Well … alright, I’ll admit it was close, but we avoided actually ending up in the water.
After a beautifully scenic drive from Soldotna in the morning, September 1st found Rhonda and I in Seward, Alaska, one of my favorite places in this ever-diverse and spectacular state.
Our water’s edge campsite afforded an unobstructed view of Resurrection Bay in all it’s vastness. The first thing we did after claiming our assigned site was to go for a long, meandering walk along the bay’s rocky shoreline.
Ronni was intrigued by some tiny sea creature between the rocks and nearly took an unintended dip when waves from a passing boat temporarily submerged the rock she had jumped to, following her prey.
Trapped! 😄
The craggy mountains across from the campground, part of the Kenai Mountain Range, are only partly visible today due to cloud cover. They afford a dramatic backdrop to the icy waters of Resurrection Bay.
Today, the bay is calm, but I’ve seen it dark and restless, with white-caps racing the wind and waves pounding the shoreline. Resurrection Bay has many moods.
I was lulled to sleep last night to the sound of gentle waves lapping softly against the shore. I could vaguely hear the crackle of a campfire about five sites away (my nearest neighbor in this near-empty campground) and the quiet murmur of the family sitting around the fire, enjoying warm cocoa and toasted marshmallows.
The sun setting behind the clouds.
Looking forward to tomorrow and hoping to see sea otters! 🦦
When you are trying to squeeze as much quality travel and RV camping as possible into a necessarily limited time-span … in my case, late spring through fall in Alaska – there are going to be days less picturesque than others.
Heck, sometimes (like today) it’s just plain cold, wet and dreary.
On the other hand, even a rainy, windy day in Alaska can be better than a sunny day someplace else – and I AM sitting right on the banks of the spectacular Kenai River.
My younger Dachshund, Rhonda, and I had just completed a fun and successful two-day Barn Hunt Trial weekend on Sunday evening and I was too tired to venture very far from the trial site. It had started raining during the last hour of the trial, making me all the more eager to be off the road.
Centennial Park Campground in Soldotna was barely ten minutes away, so I headed for this pretty, lightly wooded, river-side campground and was quickly settled in for the night.
Being Sunday night, there were plenty of campsites available. I picked a grassy site with a view of the river and was relieved to discover it was also completely level. Yay! All I needed to do was park, turn the engine off and make dinner.
I had only planned to spend one night in Soldotna, but the rain and high, gusting winds only gained strength overnight. Although the lashing rain and dripping, wind-whipped tree branches were impressive to view from the warmth of my Winnebago, I had absolutely no desire to drive a motorhome in those conditions.
Deciding caution really is sometimes the better option, I accepted that my Monday night reservation at Seward’s Waterfront RV Park was going to be forfeited. It’s only $20 (dry camping) and not worth risking my RV (or myself and Rhonda) for. Sigh.
Tomorrow is forecast to be much nicer and should offer an enjoyable drive. I may get to Seward a day late, but much less stressed.
In the meantime, although still windy here, the rain has temporarily let up, so miss Rhonda and I are going to bundle up in our wind resistant jackets and take a walk along the nicely maintained river-walk pathway.
The 1 1/2 mile walking path stretches the length of the campground to the adjacent Centennial Park day-use area and Visitor’s Center where I had spent several pleasant hours on a warm, sunny day just last week.
There are numerous side paths with viewing platforms, fishing areas and fish-cleaning stations set up, making for adventurous outings for me and the looong dog throughout the day.
Nope, Ronni would NOT walk on that nasty metal grating. She got carried across this raised section.
We got to watch several nice size salmon being landed along the riverbank – the fish flopping on the sand held Rhonda’s interest big time!
We also checked out the boat launch ramp near our camp site, where Rhonda was pretty sure she had a chance to snag (pun intended) a curious salmon. She also wanted to nibble on a nasty-looking salmon skeleton, but since it was lurking under several inches of icy river water, it proved to be out of reach of this otherwise tenacious dachshund. She is not fond of cold water!
Salmon hunting
It’s still blowing outside, but as I settle in for the evening, I’m grateful for this day of unexpected relaxation. Sometimes you have to look a little harder for the “silver lining” under the ominous clouds, but with the right attitude, the beauty – and fun – is there to see. 🌲🦅🌲 Have a great day!
The last week of August has traditionally been a super busy late summer camping week in Alaska, leading up the the grand finale over Labor Day Weekend. Traditionally …
The summer of 2020 seems to be petering out early, fizzling out with little fanfare, fewer and fewer RVs on the roads and none of the awesome end of summer blow-outs like the Palmer State Fair, open grass music festivals and craft fairs.
I refuse to give in to the change in season just yet! There are several days left in August, and I’m making the most of each and every one! Camp on, weekend Warriors, go forth “some-timers” like me, let’s rock this summer, full-timers!
Whether you camp on the beach in a van, climb mountains and camp in a tent, roll across your state in a class B, C or A motorhome, pull a trailer or 5th wheel – GO CAMP! Summer is not over.
On Thursday, August 27th, I found myself in a lovely, wooded campsite high on a hillside above the salmon infested Russian River on the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska.
Perched atop a steep ravine, I had a great view of the mountains across this river valley, although sadly, not a view of the river itself.
The Russian River National Campground has a total of over 80 campsites, spread across four large camping loops covering quite an extensive area.
The entrance to the campground is down along the Russian River, not far from the conflux of it and the Kenai River, where there have been numerous bear sightings as the bear compete with fishermen for the much prized salmon. From the name, you’d think it was a river-side campground. But from there, the narrow, paved road curves and winds steadily up the mountainside.
I passed several campground loop signs before finally climbing to my assigned “Silver Salmon” loop. I only saw one other camper as I passed by the entrance of Coho Loop. The place was eerily empty except for those few sites right on the river.
The park Ranger was a nice young man who had put well-appreciated effort into choosing a nice site for me, one with a really pretty view. He was very enthusiastic about it. I’m not sure, though, why he didn’t just tell me to go pick a spot and enjoy – I seemed to be totally alone on my mountainside with a multitude of empty spots surrounding me.
I will add; although I appreciated my private, quiet and isolated campsite … I found taking Rhonda for an evening walk was a tad intimidating. I just know there are bears in them there woods!
If we had run afoul of a bruin, I’m pretty sure there was no one close enough to hear me screaming (or even Ronni barking), and I had one bar of cell service. Yikes.
We went to bed early – there would be no late night potty breaks for Rhonda this night. 🐻
The morning view being pretty much the same nice but unchanging woods, Ronni and I saw little reason to tarry. We were on the road by 9:00 am, in search of a more interesting landscape.
It only took an hour or so of driving south to find what I was seeking. Ah … the Kenai River. Time for coffee. ☕️
Ronni and I spent a great morning and part of the afternoon at Centennial Park in Soldotna, exploring the walking trails and watching fishermen landing salmon along the Kenai river. Score! Summer continues!
Maybe SOMEDAY. “Someday” has always indicated to me a probability of this elusive eventuality actually happening – and of my participating in it. I sure hope that’s still the case.
MAYBE someday. “Maybe” used to indicate to me nothing more than a series of choices to debate, or possibly a financial decision or two to be made – should I do this instead of that, or go here instead of there if I couldn’t afford to do both – but still something I hopefully had some say in. “Maybe” now has more serious implications, but unlike when I was a child negotiating with a parent – maybe does NOT mean no. 😉
So, “maybe someday”, to me, used to be an optimistic day-dream of future adventures or perhaps a detailed listing of my Bucket List, with colorful Post-it’s marking “must-see” pages in my well-thumbed Milepost book.
The biggest challenge until recently was my age (70) and the ever-increasing time pressure I felt to fulfill at least some of my Bucket List before my body or my mind let me down or limited my favorite mode of travel.
The RV was a big item on my Bucket List. ✔️
I figured, optimistically, I still had plenty of time, but I was/am aware that my most active and athletic years are behind me, so it was past time to up my game and get busy. My plans for 2020 included some ambitious travel endeavors. Canada and the lower-48 beckoned!
Then, of course, covid-19 hit and most everyone’s plans were deferred, mine included.
So, I sit here this morning in my currently stationary Winnebago, dreaming of plans for next year – and realizing that I am struggling to not include “if I survive the coming winter of Covid” to my list of challenges to overcome.
Generally, I am an optimistic soul. As long as I take reasonable precautions, Jerry and I should be OK. My health is fairly decent, with my only big risk factor being my age.
Jer, on the other hand, is high-risk in multiple categories, so my level of caution may be higher than might seem warranted for only myself.
I really can’t take into consideration the opinions of others when it comes to this topic. I’m the only one responsible for deciding my own comfort level and what risks I am (or am not) willing to take.
I’m aware that I have friends and even family who think I’m being overly cautious. I’m sure these conversations are going on all across the country – even the world, as individuals and families wrestle with balancing feeling safe and having a good quality of life.
Over the summer, I felt my quality of life wasn’t being seriously impinged on since I was able to be outdoors quite a lot, camping, walking local trails and getting together with my K9 Nose Work group for regular, safe outdoor practices with our dogs.
But with the days getting shorter and cooler, I know my much-loved camping window is getting shorter. Meeting with friends at an outdoor cafe won’t be an option much longer. My smooth-coated dachshunds are going to be more than satisfied with shorter walks, even with coats on.
Last night was a sobering reminder (for me) of what is to come. It was the final evening of teaching my K9 Nose Work group in person for quite a while because I’m not comfortable moving it into the busy, multi-use indoor training facility for the winter.
I realize this wasn’t a popular decision among the teams I’ve been guiding, teaching and supervising for the past five years, and I’m grateful for their understanding and support as I transition our ongoing practices to an online-learning platform.
I can only hope my family and friends realize how painful it is for ME to miss out on spending this time with my friends, as well as missing birthdays, graduations, weddings and other social gatherings because of my decision.
I’m hoping (and Ronni is hoping!) to be able to continue getting together periodically with a few teams for shorter practice outings, where I can come and go as “just one of the teams” and not have to spend several hours in one indoor location as instructor/supervisor. It’s really just that longer-term possible exposure I feel the need to stay away from right now.
So, I’m sorting out my feelings and my “bubble parameters”, trying to decide where I’m comfortable being flexible and where I need to draw harder lines.
I plan to keep my “social bubble” fairly small this winter, but hope to be able to include a few of my friends in it, so as not to be completely isolated. Of course, that will have to depend on their “bubbles” as well.
This coming winter is going to be a difficult one for many people in a myriad of ways. 😢
The beginning hints of Fall are already flavoring the air, with crisper mornings, yellows and golds peeking through the still [mostly] green branches of the trees, and our beautiful Fireweed flowers not only topped out but starting to go to seed.
Final fireweed blossoms as plants go to seed.
I don’t intend to stop dreaming of the future, or stop living life to the fullest extent possible within my self-imposed restraints.
I am HOPEFUL that next spring will bring with it renewal, hope and new possibilities. And travel!
In the meantime, [depressing] thoughts of winter can wait. Fall has always been one of my favorite seasons of the year and I’m going to enjoy it!
Maybe someday we can put all (or much) of this behind us. FOR SURE, right now, we still have lives to live. I’m sure everyone, like me, has days when they can’t help but ponder the vagaries of life and our own transitory place in the overall picture. We are but sparrows in this huge universe.
I look with determination to a small plaque on my wall that states with conviction, “This too will pass!”
Outside my window, sparrows are singing joyously. It’s a beautiful day and I’m going to head outside to be part of it! Come join me!
De & the Dachsies - Our Rambles 