I reveled in the peace and quite of the campground and didn't climb out of my tent until 9:00 AM this morning. I was on the road to Whittier about 9:45 and spent 45 minutes waiting in line for the 10:30 toll road release through a mountain tunnel to Whittier.
I love learning about the history of towns like Whittier. Following the Japanese attack on the Aleutian Islands during World War II, the Americans went in search of a secluded location - with a lot of low cloud cover and surrounding mountains - in which to construct a secret military installation. In order to make Whittier accessible by train, engineers punched a 2.7-mile long tunnel through the Chugach Mountains. The tunnel is still the longest in North America. The military built two large buildings to house its 1000 people. The military has since left, but a population of around 170 remains and 80% of them live in one the buildings. The town remained secluded until 2000 when the state of Alaska used proceeds from the fines levied on Exxon following the oil spill to widen the train tunnel to allow passenger cars through.
On sunny days, the Whittier area is supposedly a great location to view mountains, glaciers, and marine wildlife, but as the US military had originally intended, I wouldn't see any of it. The clouds hung around and it was a cold and drizzly day. I crossed through the tunnel and spent a while walking around the small boat harbor. I visited the apartment building, the Begich Towers, where most of the population resides, in hopes of getting a high-up photo of the town, but the doors to the viewing areas on the 14th and 15th floors were locked. I explored the tunnels that connect the different businesses with the residents and then returned to Conrad to make my way out of town. I would love to see this town in better weather! I would be passing back by Whittier in a couple of days, so I thought I would stop in again if the weather was improved.
I passed back through the tunnel and through Portage Valley on my way back to Highway 1. I turned to the southwest towards the Kenai Peninsula. I had decided to visit Hope, Alaska, a 20-mile trek off of the highway to try my luck at gold panning. If all went well, I figured, I could extract a couple of large nuggets and thus be able to pay for all of the gas on my return trip through Canada.
In Hope, I watched as an experienced panhandler taught newbies how to pan on his little claim. He had spiked his claim with gold flecks, and for $20, the newbies could "discover" it as they learned to pan. I learned the basic technique as I watched, then I stopped at Sourdough Dru's to buy my own gold pan. I drove up into the hills on a gravel road to a 20-acre gold claim operated by the United States Forestry Service. I spent 2 hours squatting along the creek swirling, shaking and tipping my pan in search of the shiny rocks that would sink to the bottom of it. Alas, I came away empty handed. I would need to seek my fortune elsewhere. A little further down the creek, a woman had found a pinhead-sized speck of gold. Well, I still had my pan. If nothing else, the pan would make for a handsome fruit bowl on my coffee table back at home.
I intended to visit Seward later in the day, but I changed my mind and decided to push on towards Homer at the end of the peninsula. It was a very pretty drive, the last part of which was right along the coast. From Anchor Point, about 15 miles north of Homer, I turned east into the interior of the peninsula to find supper at a Russian-operated cafe. Until 1867, Russia controlled Alaska at which time the forward-thinking US Secretary of State William Seward negotiated the purchase of the territory for less than 2 cents per acre. The Russian history and influence could still be found throughout Alaska. In Nikolaevsk, I found I different - and newer - strand of the Russian legacy. The town was established in 1968 by Russian "Old Believers". This is a sect that split from the Russian Orthodox Church all the way back in 1650. They had found the church's reforms at the time to be heretical. The Old Believers experienced persecution in their homeland and finally left Russia with the rise of communism. They moved first to Brazil, then Oregon, and this sect finally purchased cheap land in Nikolaevsk. I had experienced a lot of Russian culture (and food!) during my days in Kyrgyzstan and while traveling throughout Russia.
Nina, the proprietor of the Samovar Cafe and B&B, welcomed me just as she was closing up for the night and just as another couple from Holland was arriving for supper. She fired up the stove again and served us borsht, pelmeni, kraut, and sausages. She topped it off with creampuffs and chocolate sauce for dessert! It was just as good as the best food I had eaten in Russia (and kicked-ass over my standard macaroni and cheese supper!) The cafe was eclectically decorated. Nina's grandchildren were in town to visit her from Russia. She was the typical Russian babushka. She doted on her grandkids and bossed us patrons around. She told us which utensil to use at each course and when and of what to photograph. What an experience.
I said goodbye to Nina and got back on the road to Homer. It was late, so I was just in search of a place to pitch the tent. The public campgrounds were crowded and rowdy so I proceeded further down the Homer Spit (a 4.5-mile long peninsula jutting into Kachemak Bay) before I found a place. It was nothing remarkable, but they had showers!
I love learning about the history of towns like Whittier. Following the Japanese attack on the Aleutian Islands during World War II, the Americans went in search of a secluded location - with a lot of low cloud cover and surrounding mountains - in which to construct a secret military installation. In order to make Whittier accessible by train, engineers punched a 2.7-mile long tunnel through the Chugach Mountains. The tunnel is still the longest in North America. The military built two large buildings to house its 1000 people. The military has since left, but a population of around 170 remains and 80% of them live in one the buildings. The town remained secluded until 2000 when the state of Alaska used proceeds from the fines levied on Exxon following the oil spill to widen the train tunnel to allow passenger cars through.
On sunny days, the Whittier area is supposedly a great location to view mountains, glaciers, and marine wildlife, but as the US military had originally intended, I wouldn't see any of it. The clouds hung around and it was a cold and drizzly day. I crossed through the tunnel and spent a while walking around the small boat harbor. I visited the apartment building, the Begich Towers, where most of the population resides, in hopes of getting a high-up photo of the town, but the doors to the viewing areas on the 14th and 15th floors were locked. I explored the tunnels that connect the different businesses with the residents and then returned to Conrad to make my way out of town. I would love to see this town in better weather! I would be passing back by Whittier in a couple of days, so I thought I would stop in again if the weather was improved.I passed back through the tunnel and through Portage Valley on my way back to Highway 1. I turned to the southwest towards the Kenai Peninsula. I had decided to visit Hope, Alaska, a 20-mile trek off of the highway to try my luck at gold panning. If all went well, I figured, I could extract a couple of large nuggets and thus be able to pay for all of the gas on my return trip through Canada.
In Hope, I watched as an experienced panhandler taught newbies how to pan on his little claim. He had spiked his claim with gold flecks, and for $20, the newbies could "discover" it as they learned to pan. I learned the basic technique as I watched, then I stopped at Sourdough Dru's to buy my own gold pan. I drove up into the hills on a gravel road to a 20-acre gold claim operated by the United States Forestry Service. I spent 2 hours squatting along the creek swirling, shaking and tipping my pan in search of the shiny rocks that would sink to the bottom of it. Alas, I came away empty handed. I would need to seek my fortune elsewhere. A little further down the creek, a woman had found a pinhead-sized speck of gold. Well, I still had my pan. If nothing else, the pan would make for a handsome fruit bowl on my coffee table back at home.
I intended to visit Seward later in the day, but I changed my mind and decided to push on towards Homer at the end of the peninsula. It was a very pretty drive, the last part of which was right along the coast. From Anchor Point, about 15 miles north of Homer, I turned east into the interior of the peninsula to find supper at a Russian-operated cafe. Until 1867, Russia controlled Alaska at which time the forward-thinking US Secretary of State William Seward negotiated the purchase of the territory for less than 2 cents per acre. The Russian history and influence could still be found throughout Alaska. In Nikolaevsk, I found I different - and newer - strand of the Russian legacy. The town was established in 1968 by Russian "Old Believers". This is a sect that split from the Russian Orthodox Church all the way back in 1650. They had found the church's reforms at the time to be heretical. The Old Believers experienced persecution in their homeland and finally left Russia with the rise of communism. They moved first to Brazil, then Oregon, and this sect finally purchased cheap land in Nikolaevsk. I had experienced a lot of Russian culture (and food!) during my days in Kyrgyzstan and while traveling throughout Russia.
Nina, the proprietor of the Samovar Cafe and B&B, welcomed me just as she was closing up for the night and just as another couple from Holland was arriving for supper. She fired up the stove again and served us borsht, pelmeni, kraut, and sausages. She topped it off with creampuffs and chocolate sauce for dessert! It was just as good as the best food I had eaten in Russia (and kicked-ass over my standard macaroni and cheese supper!) The cafe was eclectically decorated. Nina's grandchildren were in town to visit her from Russia. She was the typical Russian babushka. She doted on her grandkids and bossed us patrons around. She told us which utensil to use at each course and when and of what to photograph. What an experience.
I said goodbye to Nina and got back on the road to Homer. It was late, so I was just in search of a place to pitch the tent. The public campgrounds were crowded and rowdy so I proceeded further down the Homer Spit (a 4.5-mile long peninsula jutting into Kachemak Bay) before I found a place. It was nothing remarkable, but they had showers!
1 comment:
Leif,
LOVE THE HAT!!! Hope you're bringing one back for next January...
Randi
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