A River Runs Through it

I’m beyond ready for another camping trip. Several destinations are calling to me, and many of them have me passing through an area I seldom think of as a destination unto itself. I’m not sure why, except that I’m so often on my way someplace else.

Cooper’s Landing is a small community of close-knit, adventurous fishermen, woodsmen and watermen. And, of course, the businesses that have traditionally supported these mostly seasonal, mostly tourist-driven ventures.

I drive Roada through Cooper’s Landing at least six times every summer and overnight there when time and opportunity allows.

The Kenai River in all its sparkling glory flows right through the middle of town, and the community itself has a relaxed, slow pace. The strictly adhered to 35 mph speed limit throughout the entire winding, narrow, guard-rail lined two-lane roadway helps remind tourists to slow down and safely enjoy the view.

There are plenty of pull-outs on the side of the road created just for that purpose.

The fast-flowing glacial-green water sparkles with jewels of changing milky opal and aqua shades glinting with sparks of diamonds and the surface froths white where it surges over a river bed of rocks and boulders.

There are also a couple of spendy RV Parks, but only one campground, Cooper River North, that actually boasts campsites right along the river.

Only once has a combination of luck and good timing snared me one of those coveted river’s-edge camp spots.

The glistening blue-green river flowed right by our campsite. Fishermen with their gear also walked right through, which they technically shouldn’t have, but the way the campground was set up, the riverfront campsites were really the only easy-access points for those camping on the other side of the camp loop. Besides, allowing them to walk through gained us a pair of nice, very fresh salmon filets! Yum!

Cooper River South is on the other side of the highway from the Kenai River, and is one of my favorite overnight campgrounds. Quiet and well, forested, sites are nicely spaced and the camp host is attentive and helpful. A few of the sites on this campground loop actually back onto the smaller but still lovely Cooper River – something I think most campers there don’t even realize.

Another campground just a couple miles further down the Sterling Hwy, the Russian River Campground, would seem from its name to have riverside (or at least river-view) sites, but I’m thinking you must need some secret code to access them. I sure didn’t have one.

I tried twice. Once, I ended up paying to spend the night at the Russian River Ferry Landing, which was a paved parking lot. Probably a wrong turn on my part. You do have a view of the Russian River and can fish from shore, which is a big draw for fishermen … but camping on asphalt is not my idea of camping. Still, I DID see a bear!

Russian River Ferry
Brown bear cub watches fisherman

When I finally tried the actual Russian River Campground, the site they assigned me (I wasn’t given a choice) was beautiful and woodsy, but SO high up the mountain, I couldn’t even hear the river, much less see it.

Campsite view high in the clouds!
Wow! My own “bear-box! 🐻
Pretty, but no river.
Very woodsy and isolated.

My site was also remarkably isolated, with no other campers in sight, in spite of it being late July and the height of tourist and fishing season. I guess everyone else had found campsites down closer to the river?

I found myself walking Rhonda close to the RV and carrying my Hike & Strike walking stick more to give me courage than because I needed it for walking. There’s bears in them there woods! Who was I going to call for help?

Although perhaps the perfect campsite/campground for tourists looking to find the true “Alaskan Experience”, it gave me the willies.

I quickly decided I was happier being closer to Cooper’s Landing, with the friendly camp host nearby and Two Brothers Roadhouse within walking distance from my camp.

First Rain

A storm front is moving in. I can feel the barometer changing, but even more immediate is the scent of moisture on the light, periodic shiver of a breeze.

The breeze has died off again. There is a stillness to the air now. The trees seem almost to freeze in sheer anticipation of the hoped for showers to come. Oh, if only it does come this time! The entire state of Alaska, like so many other places, needs this rain desperately.

For the past week, Mother Nature has teased and taunted south-central Alaska with light sprinkles here and there, sometimes a short burst of actual light rain or sometimes just a forecast of sprinkles, only to have the sun pop back out and the clouds scud away as if to say, “Hah ha! Just kidding!”

Today has the look of something more substantial, so I cross my fingers and wait. Hmm … I should probably take Ronni out for a potty break now, just in case. As you know, she, like most dachshunds, dislikes wet feet.

I’m already looking forward to falling asleep to the steady sound of rain on the roof. It’s been entirely too long. The anticipation is real.

And so it begins. The first soaking rains of July feel like a renewal. I don’t feel any tearing desire to stand outside with my face to the stormy heavens, reveling in the downpour and running my hands through drenched hair, but I’m uplifted nevertheless.

The earth itself darkens and swells like a sponge, sucking the moisture deep into the soil. Plant roots close to the surface sense the coming sustenance and strain tendrils towards the burgeoning dampness.

A good, soaking rain after an extended period of hot, dry weather renews me as much as the dripping, forested world around me. I can see, and very nearly feel the earth expanding with the much longed for nourishment as rain drops fall, first on woefully dry but still green tree leaves, then glistening as it caresses wild rose and cranberry bushes, tall, thirsty stalks of fireweed and various other low-growing plants before finally splashing to the dry ground.

Ahh … the forest shudders in relief, then opens itself to the bounty that is summer rain.

Morning Rituals

A drop in the barometer is never a good thing for someone coping with fibromyalgia (or quite a few other autoimmune disorders).

However, that discomfort is somewhat offset when rain accompanies the low-pressure system. Waking to the patter of rain on the roof this morning was blissful. I delayed moving a single muscle for several minutes of peaceful enjoyment.

Not moving served multiple purposes; the two most important being not waking Rhonda up (who would immediately and joyfully wiggle over my neck, often upside down, to deliver morning kisses and what Jerry and I both refer to as “neck hugs”), and as long as I remained motionless, I wouldn’t have to take an accounting of which body parts were aching most on this rainy morning.

Too late! I must’ve wiggled a toe – here came Ronni, already doing her happy morning dance. I tried ignoring her at first, wanting one more moment of dozing, but seriously, how does one ignore this particular morning ritual?

Our morning always begins thus. Once kisses and belly rubs are delivered, Ronni scrambles from the bed and trots straight to the door, where she sits, waiting patiently for Mom to complete her part of the morning routine.

I slip my feet into comfy sheepskin-lined suede slippers, open the black-out shades beside the bed, turn the burner under the tea-kettle on while opening the galley window shade, and go to the bathroom.

Ronni’s tail is whipping madly at this point, knowing her morning walkie is next. I don a light rain-jacket over my PJs and grope around in the dog gear for Ronni’s raincoat.

Rhonda gives me a suspicious look, but allows herself to be draped and Velcro’d into her little rubberized neon-green slicker.

I opened the door and stepped out, inviting her to join me. The rain was not a downpour, but it was coming down steadily. Need overcame her reluctance to walk on wet grass and she had soon accomplished her morning toilet. But not without half glaring, half squinting at me, mid-squat, as if to say, “My head is wet. This is all your fault!”.

Ronni headed promptly back to the stairs, all thoughts of an extended morning walk banished from her head. She wanted back inside where it was warm and dry.

As soon as I relieved her of the raincoat and used a doggy towel to wipe her feet [mostly] dry, Ronni raced up her ramp to the fleecy comforter on the bed, diving under it and curling into a tight ball.

By then, my water was hot, so I proceeded to make a tall 16 oz. mug of my favorite Arctic Wolf blend of coffee, using my pour-over cone and filter. I kid you not, this little set-up makes the BEST coffee, once you have the amount of grounds dialed in for your size mug. Just add hot water.

After placing my morning bran muffin in the microwave for 15 seconds (hey, I’m on shore-power today), I rattled Ronni’s food dish, which had her out from under the covers, zipping past me and rump-plopped on her “meals-mat” in mere seconds.

As she consumed her breakfast, consisting of kibble, two tablespoons brown rice and a short squirt of salmon oil, I gathered my coffee and warm muffin and retreated to the bed, where I prop myself up against pillows and snuggle under the comforter for an enjoyable half-hour of coffee and the still constant sound of rain on the roof.

All told, it took longer to write this down than it had to complete our little morning ritual. And yes, of course Ronni rejoined me under the comforter as soon as she finished breakfast. It’s what we do.

The Mat-Su Valley – My Home

I dropped in via the internet this morning to visit the Alaska site, under Travel & Culture, of the BellaOnline magazine. (www.BellaOnline.com), with the intent of searching the archives for a couple of specific articles I wrote for them in the past.

Although I stopped writing weekly articles for the magazine nearly two years ago, they don’t seem to have noticed. I was surprised to see I was still listed as the Alaska Editor. Admittedly, this inattentive management style is the main reason I wandered off in the first place.

Here, I’ll show you what I mean. I wrote the article below, I believe, in 2019, although it could have been as far back as 2009. I’d need to dig into my laptop files for the date. It’s one of the articles I’d gone in search of this morning for some fun, local summer color. I do SO love summer in the Mat-Su.

The thing is, I thought I’d have to go into archives to find this. Instead, I found it still actively listed on the current menu for the Alaska site.

Hmm … I wonder (if I even remember my password), if I could go back and add some new content? Or maybe edit and update a few articles – including this one. I may have to give it a try and see what happens. It’s not like I ran out of ideas. 🤷🏼‍♀️

The writing style required for the magazine is different in many respects; less personal and more of a third-person approach. More like a travelogue.

Let me know what you think.

Pioneer Peak, one of many majestic sites.

The Matanuska-Susitna Valley (by Deb Frost, Alaska Editor)

The “Mat-Su”, as this large, activity-filled valley in south central Alaska is called by locals, is a thriving residential, business and agricultural community only an hour’s drive from Anchorage. The valley holds some of Alaska’s most spectacular scenery, exciting summer and winter activities and historic sites of interest to visitors and residents alike.

Surrounded by no less than three towering mountain ranges; the Alaska Range, the Talkeetna Mountains and the Chugach Mountains, the Mat-Su valley was given this name because it contains the entirety of the Matanuska and Susitna rivers, from river heads spouting from their mother glaciers all the way to the mouths of the rivers where they flow into Cook Inlet and the Pacific Ocean. From start to finish, these spectacular rivers are entirely within the bounds of the Mat-Su Valley.

The Mat-Su has the fastest growing population of any geographic area in the entire state. In spite of this, visitors can still experience a very real “back to nature” atmosphere once they are off of the main highway. Like so much of Alaska, it’s a BIG valley.

The verdant green valley floor is criss-crossed by rivers and streams of all sizes. Fast flowing glacial rivers from both the Knik and Matanuska glaciers carry massive loads of glacial silt down river each spring; ice cracking and booming as the rivers break free, sending muddy flood waters to temporarily widen and alter river beds across the valley. The rich silt contributes to the fertility of the valley where gardens, wild flowers and wild life abound each summer.

Once the spring “break-up” is over and the brown, roiling rivers settle back into their banks, visitors can recognize true glacial rivers by their unique milky, opaque greenish-white water color and boulder strewn river bottoms. The color is reminiscent of opals or perhaps a pale shade of jade. It’s difficult to describe but easy to recognize when you see it.

Follow the wide, meandering Matanuska River up into the mountains above Palmer by car and you will find the largest single glacier actually accessible by land vehicle. The Matanuska Glacier is 27 miles long and 1300 feet high, with the main entrance at Glacier Park at Mile 102 of the Glenn Highway. Here you can camp or park within view of the glacier and then hike or drive to the very edge of the ice. The park offers a choice of short, medium or day-long guided hikes right up onto the glacier – or the more challenging experience of a full day of ice climbing!

If hiking is not your cup of tea, go the opposite direction and take a quiet, peaceful float trip down a lovely, scenic stretch of the Matanuska River, surrounded on both sides by lovely forests and towering mountains. Bald eagles, moose and other wildlife are not uncommon sights along the rivers edge. Looking for a little more excitement? There are various levels of white-water rafting adventures available as well. The Matanuska is a long, winding river with many faces, not all of them gentle.

Want to experience the wonder of it all in one day without all the driving or hiking? A flight-seeing trip by float plane is the perfect way to visit all of the Mat-Su Valley’s glaciers, rivers and mountains. Some tours will actually land you on top of a glacier for an exciting, awe-inspiring photo op.

Take a slightly different route out of Palmer and you will find Knik Glacier not far off, peeking out from the edge of the massive ice fields on the back side of the Chugach mountain range. This slightly more off the road glacier can be accessed only by jet-boat or by guided ATV tours that go splashing through the braided shallows of the Knik River and offer a picnic lunch at the base of the glacier.

There are also a large number of carefully monitored, active salmon and trout rivers, streams and lakes throughout the Mat-Su valley, offering excellent fishing opportunities in season. Between sight-seeing, hiking, fishing, kayaking and river rafting, the rivers and glaciers of the Mat-Su are a draw for tourists and locals alike.

Hatcher Pass in the May-Su Valley