smitten on the kenai peninsula
Dates: August 16, 2022 - August 26 , 2022
Distance traveled: 602 mi / 967 km
Route: Anchorage > Girdwood > Cooper Landing > Homer > Cooper Landing > Seward > Hope
With our truck and family business taken care of in Anchorage, the only thing standing between us and the Kenai Peninsula was a sleepy little off-season ski town, Girdwood, where we stopped for drinks at the Girdwood Brewing Company followed by dinner at the Hightower Pub.
Unbeknownst to ourselves, we had a dinner date waiting on us at the pub. As we were getting the animals situated in the camper before heading inside, a man came up to Mike chatting about the rig.
Man: “Are you coming in for a drink?”
Mike: “Yeah we’re heading in for dinner.”
Man: “Why don’t you join us. I’ll buy you a drink and would love to hear more about your camper.”
Mike relayed the invitation to me–but what does that mean? Where are they sitting? Do we just go up to them when we get inside or wait until later to have a drink? My mind was reeling. Mike laughed and shrugged.
Sure enough, the confusion cleared up when we walked inside and saw them seated facing the door with two wide open seats at their table and expectant smiles on their faces–I guess we’re having dinner with them.
And what a great dinner it was, not that we should have expected anything less. But you never really know what to expect when strangers insist you join them for an entire meal with no escape plan, now do you? Luckily these folks were more like friends we just hadn’t met yet than “stranger danger” kind of people. Chris and Christie (not sure on the spelling) are locals in the area and just acquired a Lance truckbed camper. Christie recently joined Chris in retirement (possibly from teaching, but I don’t entirely recall) and they’re hoping to start venturing south to Baja in the winters. As a former commercial pilot, Chris told us about the many years he spent traveling all around the world by plane. In turn, they were surprised to hear our own tales of international travel experiences, given our age.
When we tell folks we’ve quit our jobs, sold our house, and moved into our truck camper to travel full-time, it never ceases to amaze me how genuinely happy they are for us. I would understand an “oh wow, how exciting!” or something like that while they’re thinking to themselves “wouldn’t it be nice if everyone could do that.” But the response we get is so much deeper and heartfelt–their eyes light up as a smile spreads across their face and they tell us “that is so incredible, good for you to be doing this while you’re young! What a wonderful adventure you’ll have!” This happens all. the. time. And it always leaves us walking away from the conversation with a smile of disbelief. This was the experience we had with Chris and Christie. Trading travel stories, hearing about their lives in Alaska, making hopeful plans to keep an eye out for each other in Baja later this year, and leaving dinner genuinely happy for the good fortune that has befallen one another in life. I’d call that a good dinner date.
Our new friends Chris and Christie
Next stop, the Kenai Peninsula.
The Homer Spit
Under a blanket of soft, thick clouds hiding the mountain peaks in the distance, we drove as far south as you can on the Kenai Peninsula onto the Homer Spit, situated in Kachemak Bay.
WIth unlimited beach running along both sides of the spit, this was undoubtedly Granger’s favorite destination in all of Alaska. Here, she chased seagulls to her heart’s content and waded happily into the crystal blue waters.
We booked a campsite at the Homer Spit Campground. The manager of the campground, Micah, welcomed us warmly, and chatted excitedly with us about our rig and travels. Packed tightly between a line of RVs, our camper door opened right out to the black pebble beach with views of the mountains across the bay. We didn’t mind being in the busy campground one bit.
The Salty Dawg Saloon is a famous landmark. A small, crowded, and dimly lit bar with every inch of wall covered in dollar bills left as a token of appreciation by visitors from all over the world. After a quick stop in the heavily graffitied bathrooms, which made for great reading, we grabbed a seat out on the patio.
Apparently we were late to the party, because the only other group outside had clearly been there for a while, with someone running to grab another round for the table every so often. Their discussion was lively. From what we gathered, they were local fishermen and women, kicking back after a day of hard work. Their conversation turned passionately to politics, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out which side they supported, if any. There was too much commotion to discern what beliefs they held–they seemed concerned about fish conservation but annoyed with regulations on fishing, two very contradicting points of view. It was puzzling.
Mike finished his beer and we walked over to A Bus Named Sue (a nod to the Johnny Cash song, A Boy Named Sue) for a dinner of rockfish fish and chips and a halibut quesadilla. We dined alone in the upper deck of the bus, which was a first for us.
Later that evening with our campfire interrupted by the rain, we retreated inside the Scout. When the rain cleared up and we stepped back outside, we were delighted to find the sky swept in a pastel pink sunset. Standing on the smooth, rounded rocks of the beach, we took in the view with absolute awe. In these moments, we can only think of how lucky we are.
The following morning we grabbed a delicious breakfast at La Baleine Café before returning back whence we came, heading north on the western edge of the peninsula.
Cooper Landing
I’m not sure if you can call Cooper Landing a town, per se, but it has a brewery, restaurant, and lots of little campgrounds along the Kenai River. When I first laid eyes on the Kenai River, I felt my heart explode a little bit in my chest (in a good way). The beauty and vibrancy of this river is overwhelming–the water, a bright turquoise color, cuts powerfully through the landscape and surrounding mountains. It’s a breathtaking sight, and I was instantly obsessed.
We decided to spend several nights with the river, camped along its bank. It rained much of the five days we spent there, but that didn’t dampen our spirits. We sipped our coffee while watching bald eagles go about their business on the other side of the river. Every few seconds a bright red sockeye salmon would leap out of the water into the air, as if putting on a show for us. We dipped our bodies into the chilly water for a cold plunge one morning and were applauded by some folks floating by on the river. We were only slightly nervous that a massive salmon would try nibbling on our toes, which thankfully didn’t happen.
Fellow Scout owners noticed we were in their neck of the woods and reached out on instagram offering to take us on a float down the river, an offer which we accepted without hesitation.
Just a couple of Kenai Scout Campers hanging out on the Kenai Peninsula
With the Alaska weather gods smiling down on us, we met up with Meg and Ben and reveled over our good fortune to have such a beautiful day to hang out together on the water.
Meg took the helm and paddled us down the Kenai River while Ben tried his chances at catching some fish. Mike and I, seated up front, kicked our feet up, relaxed, and enjoyed the view. Meg who leads educational programs for a salmon conservancy generously shared her knowledge with us as we briskly floated down the fast-moving water. This is when we learned that the bright red fish we had been seeing were in fact spawning sockeye salmon and also learned more about the fishing regulations in the area.
Spawning sockeye salmon under the surface of the water
Floating down my beloved turquoise river, spotting black bears and bald eagles on the banks, and chatting with these incredibly warm and friendly Alaskans about their lives in this wondrous state was truly a highlight of our entire time in Alaska. We expressed our sincere gratitude and thanked them with a few beers at Cooper Landing Brewing Company.
Seward
We could have lingered even longer in Cooper Landing, but it was time to keep moving.
Incredible views along the drive to Seward
Seward was our next destination on the Kenai Peninsula. We stopped in town for a delicious lunch of rockfish tacos from Lone Chicharron Taqueria, courtesy of a great recommendation from Meg and Ben, and then headed to Exit Glacier.
Exit Glacier viewpoint
After taking in the sight of the glacier from a distance, we set up camp in an incredible spot on a riverbed surrounded once again by stunning mountains. The days passed slowly here. In the moments when the rain eased up, we took walks around camp and Mike ran Granger with the dirtbike. The rainier parts of the day were spent inside the camper, watching the Star Wars movies we had downloaded on our iPad.
Before leaving the area, we headed back into town. Mike parked the truck along the street and we hopped out to be warmly greeted by someone walking down the sidewalk. A few feet later, another friendly “hello! How are you?” I don’t know what it was, but something about these greetings were extra friendly and heartfelt. I was beginning to think Seward might be our kind of town.
We walked into Resurrect Art Coffee House, a homey, eclectic coffeeshop inside of an old church building with all kinds of art and trinkets covering the walls and shelves inside. If we lived here, this would be a regular hangout spot. We sipped our coffees and caught up on some laptop and wifi things, enjoying the local ambiance.
Enjoying a latte, decaf americano, and good wifi at the Resurrect Art Coffee House.
We couldn’t leave without a second round of rockfish tacos, so we walked down the main street, stopping in some of the cute shops along the way to Lone Chicharron. The tacos were as delicious as we remembered from two days prior. We ate and talked about how much we enjoyed this little town and its positive vibes.
Hope
Many people skip over the tiny town of Hope when they visit the Kenai Peninsula, but our friends Logan and Tara warned us that doing so would be a grave mistake. Heeding their advice, we made our way to our final destination on the peninsula.
Much of the town is operated by volunteers, which is something I still don’t fully understand but read about on a number of signs posted in the town. There’s a library, a few restaurants, a rafting company or two, and a school which serves 18 local kids, kindergarten through twelfth grade.
The Seaview Cafe is a popular spot in the area, complete with its own little adjoining campground. We reserved a spot and headed inside for open mic night, which they host every Thursday. Because of my long Covid, I’m very selective these days about when I choose to drink alcohol, as it exacerbates my symptoms. The vibe in this little bar, bustling with locals and live music was exactly the kind of moment I wanted to celebrate with a few, smooth Hefeweizens.
Once again, we were too busy enjoying ourselves to properly document the evening. This is the only photo we took in Hope.
We enjoyed the evening immensely chatting with the bartender and a handful of the locals. We were the only ‘outsiders’ there and it was fascinating learning about the local culture and seeing how everyone there knew and appreciated each other. We spoke with one older man, Flip, who is an ultramarathon athlete–he was once a top competitor in his races, but has lost his edge since getting covid. He can still run long distances, and is grateful for that, but he’s unable to compete at the same level. We bonded over our experiences with long covid and enjoyed a dance together in the tiny open space in front of the band and the rest of the bar.
Interesting story: Flip isn’t just a nickname, it’s his legal name. The day he was born his dad flipped his airplane in a crash. We’re under the impression that his dad survived and was completely ok, and Flip got a cool name out of the experience.
Ironically, Mike and I caught covid a few days after this night in Hope. We had let our guard down and threw our usual covid caution to the wind to partake in this unique experience. Sometimes it’s hard to weigh the benefits and consequences of these kinds of decisions against each other, especially when the potential consequences are unknown. We made incredible memories that night but we also know first-hand how devastating covid can be–what if Mike developed long Covid because of that night or what if it severely worsened my condition? Luckily, that hasn’t been the case so far, but these are the kinds of things we’re constantly thinking about as we’re navigating this life on the road, wanting to experience as much as we can of the local cultures we pass through, but also wanting to be safe and responsible for ourselves and others. It’s a tricky time–not just for us, but for everyone.
Until next time
After nine days on the peninsula, of which one or two of them were clear and sunny, we were smitten. What a bountiful and beautiful piece of the world.
When we bought our Scout Kenai camper, ‘Kenai’ was just a model name to us. But after this pilgrimage to the Kenai Peninsula, and a brief but everlasting love affair with the Kenai River, the word ‘Kenai’ now means so much more to us.
