That's the plan for our remaining two weeks in Alaska. We cruise out of Anchorage late afternoon Sunday on Highway 1 in our rented Ford Focus, headed southeast along the Turnagain Arm of Cook Inlet. We have chosen gas mileage and tent camping over gas guzzling and the creature comforts of an RV. The bank of clouds squatting on the Kenai peaks where we are headed for the evening raise questions about that decision.
Jason and Noah at the Lodge advised we stop and walk along the Turnagain Arm Trail if weather permitted a clear view of the bay. The beluga whales might be passing through at this time of year, a sight worth a hike. It is windy and clear, so we park at McHugh Creek and after a short uphill climb continue on a narrow path through birch and willow trees, wondering when we will come to a location where we can see the open water of the bay.
Before we reach a viewpoint, my brother almost steps in a large fresh bear scat, prominently blocking the trail. Thank you to the Greeks for that perky term for poop and for the root of scatological, the prime descriptor of adolescent male humor. The operative descriptors here, though, are large and fresh. It is peppered with partly digested red bearberries and other bits of flora, a logroll fruitcake that calls for a high stepping bypass.
I size up the landscape. Steep wooded hill above and below me. Dense undergrowth of berries, alder scrub, and cow parsnip. Narrow pathway fore and aft. My enthusiasm for beluga whales wanes, especially since I've left the bear spray in the car.
My brother, Dale, forges on. We finally reach a break in the foliage and are disappointed with the view. Without field glasses, Captain Ahab would have trouble spotting a whale from this vantage point, too far from the water. I have been making muted suggestions about turning around and Dale agrees. We double time back to the car and on to the Portage Valley towards Whittier.
The Kenai area is far more mountainous that I envisioned with all the talk of salmon spawning up its many rivers. Towards Portage and beyond, the snowy peaks cradle massive glaciers, blue and white tongues of ice striped with rubble licked from stone in their paths. We pick a campsite at Willowaw for the night, right below a brilliant blue glacier visible from the road driving in.
The campground is clean and about half occupied, mostly with large RV's. Potable water at the push of a pump handle, a recently emptied pit toilet, and a bear box for storing food all promise a comfortable stay. After dinner and dishes, we hike along a salmon viewing trail and past reconstructed spawning habitat that is explained by trailside interpretive signage. The reparation project makes use of old logging ponds and has helped restore salmon numbers in the Portage Valley. We will find many of these same kinds of helpful trails and signs, as well as spotless campgrounds, all over Alaska, which reflect the obvious care Forest Service and state park personnel take with the public lands entrusted to them.
The late evening sun is peeking through the clouds on surrounding peaks as we walk the half mile or so back to our campsite. Temperatures are predicted to drop into the low 40's for the night. We tuck into the tent around 10 p.m. and like every night this trip, we fall asleep while it is still light outside.
During the night I wake to a steady rain. By morning the tent is soaked where the weight of the rain has pushed the fly against the inner fabric. Despite resealing the floor and fly prior to the trip, water has also seeped into the seam corners and some of our clothes are damp. We eat a hurried breakfast -- oatmeal, hot chocolate, banana, tangerine -- and break camp, stuffing the wet tent into the trunk of the car.
We drive a few miles in the Whittier direction and stop at the Begich, Boggs Visitor Center, built on the remnants of a moraine from the Portage Glacier. The building is named to honor Alaska Rep. Nick Begich and House Majority Leader Hale Boggs of Louisiana, both of whom died in a small plane that flew southward in an ice storm over the Portage Valley and Whiiter in 1972 and was never found. Begich, a Democrat, was home campaigning for re-election. Despite his disappearance, he posthumously won the election, but was replaced by a Republican, Don Young, in a special vote to officially fill his vacancy. Young was the same fellow defeated by Begich in his posthumous election. He has served as US Representative for Alaska since 1973. Begich's son, Mark, a moderate Democrat, recently replaced longtime Republican Senator Ted Stevens, who ironically also died in a plane crash in 2010. Stevens was on his way to a fishing lodge in a deHavilland Otter when it went down.
A busload of Korean tourists swarms around inside and out of the center, cameras clicking. We weave our way through the crowd and stop to talk to a young ranger, recently arrived from Texas. I ask him how he likes Alaska.
"The sun shone here 10 days in June, five days in July, and so far one day in August," he answers. No further explanation needed. An older ranger at the information desk encourages us to head to the theater where a film, Voices from the Ice, is about to begin. The photography and narration are National Geographic stunning, but still can't match the end of the film when the wall-sized screen retracts into the ceiling, curtains part, and we are looking out a bank of ceiling to floor windows at the Portage Glacier itself.
After browsing the center's interactive exhibits on native flora and fauna, we head to the car. The sun is squeezing through the clouds back towards where we entered the Portage Valley and we decide to head there for better weather and skip a trip to Whittier. Within 10 miles, a glance at the rear view mirror confirms that the glaciers create their own weather system. It looks like the rain has resumed behind us. Ranger Rick may not see the sun for another month, if at all. Hopefully it shines a bit more often on Seward, our next destination.
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