Page 47 – De & the Dachsies

Happy Happenstance

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” I don’t recall who wrote that, but it is apt for this story.

Having enjoyed an unprecedented three days of sunshine and relatively stress free camping, my dear hubby woke up Sunday morning a tad bit on the “wrong side of the bed.”

The cheerful smile and helpful disposition I’d been so appreciative of through most of our trip had vanished like the mist, leaving a somewhat querulous and cranky personage in its place.

Such is life with a TBI survivor. Switches sometimes turn on or off randomly. It really had been a lovely three days – a longer stretch than I had honestly expected, so no complaints. But now it was time to appease, keep things running along as smoothly as possible, and head for home.

Having slowly and carefully departed from Captain Cook State Rec Area by way of the same crater-pocked roads we had entered on, we were both relieved to finally return to decent roads ahead. Hopefully, smooth traveling would lead to … umm, smooth traveling. 😉

The drive back to Kenai was smooth and uneventful, and gave me the opportunity of stopping by the Pen-Dog training building between Kenai and Soldotna to turn in my entry form for a Barn Hunt Trial coming up there at the end of the month.

Yep! Another trip to the Kenai Peninsula is in the works. Rhonda is going to be so pleased! She loves bounding up, over and under straw bales in search of rats!

But back to my current travels for now …

My plan, such as any existed, was to head towards home after departing Soldotna. I knew I *could* drive the remaining miles back to Wasilla before nightfall, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Jerry and Baxter both prefer to stop and stretch their legs quite regularly and there are several nice campgrounds between Soldotna and home. Fingers crossed.

Besides, this stretch of the Kenai peninsula was a beautiful drive even on a bad day. This was far from a bad day – it was sunny and warm, with brilliant green hills and sparkling streams and rivers abounding. Jer seemed content to enjoy the view, so I was decidedly in no rush.

The only section of the drive I can’t call beautiful, although awe-inspiring in its own way, was the fire zone from last summer’s huge Swan Lake wildfire.

Even with the charred, black remains of thousands, perhaps millions of spruce trees spearing the clear sky as far as one could see, and the cris-crossing burnt trunks and stumps of birch, willow and cottonwood trees still laying haphazardly where they died and fell … renewal of the forest has already begun.

The roadside has been, I believe, hydro-seeded with grass to stem erosion, but the brilliant pink of the aptly named Fireweed flowers needed no help from mankind.

These hardy plants with their tall stalks of vivid color abound in even the most devastated and scarred landscape. This is almost always the first sign of returning plant life after a fire and it soothes the soul to drive through this ruined landscape and see Fireweed thriving everywhere.

I had driven through this area late last summer while the fire was still raging and saw the smoking remains first-hand. The forest will recover, stronger and more diverse than ever, but it’s going to take time.

Once past the fire zone, my eyes were drawn to the many sparkling lakes, rivers and creeks so abundant to the area around Cooper’s Landing. The conflux of the Kenai and Russian rivers are a mecca for fishermen this time of year – both two and four-legged.

The salmon are running, so catching sight of brown bear wading through the rivers in search of dinner is not at all uncommon. I didn’t take my eyes off the narrow, guard-rail edged road to search the stream beds myself, but there have been plentiful sightings over the past few weeks.

When I’m in the area, I often opt to spend a night at South Cooper Creek Campground in Cooper’s Landing. It’s a quiet, woodsy, National campground with widely spaced, private campsites and since it’s across the highway from the Kenai River (no river views), there are literally always sites available for unscheduled stops.

I was again toying with this idea as we neared Cooper’s Landing. Although I enjoy staying at the south loop, it’s the North Cooper Creek loop of the campground I’ve longed for years to find a spot at – always in vain.

The sites in the north loop are right on the Kenai River and are much coveted by fishermen as well as regular campers. I have never so much as seen an empty site in this campground even when it isn’t the height of fishing season.

BUT … at the back of my mind was the thought, “It’s Sunday afternoon and check-out was only an hour ago. Lots of folks head home on Sunday. Maybe …”

So, going with my gut, I flipped on my left turn blinker, slowed, and turned my rig ponderously into the North Cooper Creek Campground entrance. What the heck, it only takes five minutes to drive through and then we can go on over to the south loop.

I was therefore flummoxed, nearly speechless, when the very first site we came to was empty and marked as available. Right on the banks of the Kenai River. Oh, happy happenstance! I wanted it! I wanted it badly!

The easiest option, I knew, was to pull past it and back in. Not ideal, since backing in would have my big dinette window facing away from the river, but it was a warm day, and with the screen door open, we’d still have a pretty view. Besides, we could take our chairs and sit right on the river bank!

I looked it over and concluded it was wide enough and I wouldn’t brush any overhanging tree limbs.

This is when my day started to go seriously awry. My hubby says, “You should pull in nose first. We’ll have a better view.”

I looked at the angle of the campsite driveway (obviously meant to be backed into), the ditch on the right side and the width of the main road.

“I think I’ll back in …” says I, thinking about the turn radius of a 27’ motorhome.

“It’ll be fine. There’s plenty of room. I’ll guide you in,” says Jerry, hopping out and assuming the “I’m in charge of this operation” pose. Sigh.

Against my instincts and better judgement, and probably thinking (at the time) it would be easier to let him have his way – I gave in. I should’ve had someone video us. 😣

I won’t go into gory details, but at one point, he had me straddling that ditch with no idea how to back me out. Words were exchanged.

Happily, for our marriage, the RV eventually settled into her nose-in destination without any actual damage done and even better, we were pretty much dead level. I promptly went for a loooong walk.

It would have been so simple to just back in. Still, all in all, it was a lovely campsite.

Once we were finally settled into our campsite, walked the dogs and took a short, refreshing nap, peace was negotiated and we sat out by the picnic table, enjoying watching colorful river rafting tours and fishermen pass by.

A couple of fishermen opted to pull their float up on the little island in front of our camp site and we were able to watch them land a nice fish!

Eventually, we settled in for the evening. By then, we really didn’t feel like making dinner, so munched sandwiches and chips. Hey, at least we were talking to each other again. 😉

I had a nice time picked a bowl full of bright red, wild raspberries along a narrow path near the river after dinner (keeping up a running conversation with myself all the while in case a bear might have similar snacking ideas in mind). I also had my “Hike & Strike” walking stick with me.

The raspberries made a nice topping over vanilla ice cream later in the evening.

The next morning, Jer offered to guide me back out of our hard-earned riverside campsite. I had a better idea, suggesting that Jerry take up a post in the roadway, making sure no one turned into the one-way campground entrance, blocking my escape.

I then calmly backed out facing the wrong direction, picked up my hubby and booked out the fortunately still empty entrance gate. Perhaps not technically correct, but SO much simpler.

Throwing Caution to the Wind

Sometimes you just have to throw caution to the wind and go with your gut.

With superb late summer weather forecast for the next four days, temps in the 70s, blue skies and balmy breezes, there was no way I was sitting home.

I headed for unknown (to me) territory – and I took Jerry, along with the two dachshunds, with me. YES, I really did!

Jer & Baxter enjoying a summer day in Nikiski, on a bluff overlooking Cook Inlet

Jer does not handle change, uncertainty or “winging it” nearly as well as he did before his TBI. A change in plans can cause him to become anxious and anxiety can make him … cranky.

A relatively minor blip can have him ready to blow his stack (so to speak) and results in me sometimes taking looong walks to give us both time to regain our composure.

And yet, I found myself inviting him along on a 4-5 day camping trip far from home; to an area where I’d never been, to a campground I had only vague information about and wasn’t sure either of us would like.

What if we arrived after a long day of driving, only to be disappointed? What if he didn’t want to stay? What if I didn’t want to stay? Tension and stress can be multiplied by a factor of LOTS in a 27’ motorhome. Fingers crossed.

I felt like I was living on the edge even inviting him to join me for this trip, and second thoughts almost had me changing our destination to a closer campground where I was in more familiar territory. I’m fine with “camping surprises”, but Jerry … not so much.

Still … I had heard so many good things about Nikiski and the Captain Cook State Recreation Area located 16 miles beyond this small, beachside Alaskan town. It was on my bucket list – go to Nikiski. Go BEYOND Nikiski!

Yes, literally at the very end of the road, after driving for several additional miles into deeper and deeper woods within the Caption Cook State Recreation Area and coming to a sign warning “END OF ROAD”, this is where we finally set welcome eyes on the small brown sign stating “Discovery Campground and Picnic Area – turn left.“

I looked dubiously at the pot hole cratered, narrow dirt road, looked sideways at Jer, gulped, and plastered a smile on my face. “Well, we made it this far”.

The entrance to the campground wasn’t promising; there was no way to avoid a series of massive potholes along the entire visible length, so we moved along at a snail’s pace, the RV creaking back and forth. Still, the woods were lovely and we caught enticing glimpses of Cook Inlet gleaming through the branches, so we journeyed slowly onward. Such intrepid souls!

If we’d been expecting to camp within easy walking distance to the ocean (we were, darn it), it was not to be, but we did have a killer view.

Our campsite at Discovery Campground. Cook Inlet at low tide.

Once I had set up camp, we took the pups and explored the many intersecting trails that meandered through the trees and bushes (there was a lot of devil’s club and pushka, so we were careful to stay near the center of the paths) leading to the bluffs above Cook Inlet.

If you aren’t familiar with “pushka” (and I’m not sure I’m spelling it correctly); this is the native Alaskan term for cow parsnip. Nasty stuff … the sap can irritate and even blister the skin, especially when exposed to sunlight.

The views along the bluffs at the near edge of the campground were beautiful – and only a minute’s stroll from camp. We made regular pilgrimages along these paths during the day to peer down at the changing tides.

We did manage to find our way down to the beach on Saturday. It was a bit of a hike – back out the entrance road and then down the road to the day-use area – but it was worth the efforts.

We spent a couple of hours walking the beach and looking for agates. I brought home a few small specimens, but we were mostly just meandering and enjoying the scenery.

Low tide here seems to me the more intriguing; the shore is boulder-strewn, even at high tide – you can easily visualize how the gigantic slabs of gneiss (pronounced “nice”), granite and similar rock had been wrested from the cliff wall during raging storms.

At low tide, you can also see where the boulders – some bigger than large trucks – have been rolled far out into the inlet by the tides and restless ocean waves. There they lie, waiting for another vicious storm to continue rolling them along the ocean shore like pebbles in a stream.

The long walk to the beach, along with our rock hunting and following along at the end of dogs leashes as Baxter and Ronni investigated wonderful new sights and smells, eventually wore us out.

After sitting for a bit on a really uniquely patterned augen gneiss boulder, we cautiously eyed the steep dirt path we’d seen kids scampering up and down … it really was steep. Almost more climbing than walking. But it led directly up the bluff to the campground. Did we dare??

On the other hand, the alternative was to walk half a mile back down the beach and then up the road and around to the campground.

The very steep path we successfully navigated back from the beach to the campground!

That was enough adventuring for us! All in all, we spent three warm, peaceful days at this campground, basking in very reasonable temperatures in the low 70s with a mild off shore breeze and warm sunshine.

On Sunday, along with everyone else in the Kenai, we reluctantly packed up to head towards home. I trust you’ll note I didn’t say we’d actually GO home … 😉

Flexibility is Important

Yes, I can still touch my toes, but that is not what I mean by flexibility. 😉

My “plan”, to the extent that I had a plan, was to wind up my beach vacation on Thursday morning, with the idea of possibly stopping for one more night at one of my favorite woodsy campgrounds in Cooper’s Landing or maybe Hope on the way home.

Both campgrounds have spacious, nicely wooded sites with pretty views and plenty of scenic paths for dog walking. I thought it might be an enjoyable change of pace from the beach and would be fairly protected if the weather turned.

Hope, in particular, appealed to me because it would then be just an easy drive on Friday, arriving home fairly early in the day and hopefully missing the “heading out of town” weekend traffic.

Oh, but then there is that bit about the weather turning that I invariably forget to factor in – especially after a spell of sunny weather.

It’s called fibromyalgia, and it sometimes plays havoc with both my body and my brain. Many people don’t realize that fibro can have adverse cognitive effects as well as physical aches and pains and chronic fatigue. This is also one of the disadvantages of traveling solo. You can’t just say, “Here, you drive today. I don’t feel like it.”

On the bright side, my travel companions almost always take unplanned “down days” with equanimity. ❤️

The skies were still clear and the temperature relatively balmy when the pups and I crawled into bed Wednesday night.

We’d watched the tide come in and spent some quality beach-combing time along the high-tide mark, but didn’t manage to stay awake for the sunset. I was feeling extra tired in spite of doing pretty much nothing but walking dogs, reading and enjoying the sunshine all day. That should’ve been a hint, but it slipped by me unnoticed.

Calm evening on Cook Inlet in Alaska

I remember briefly waking up to the sound of rain on the roof, but the pitter-patter just as quickly lulled me back to sleep. Thursday morning brought continuing rain, dark, brooding clouds and a view of absolutely nothing except the choppy waters of Cook Inlet outside my window.

The mountains across the inlet were completely lost behind clouds and sheets of rain.

See? No mountains! Cook Inlet had taken on an eerie shade of muddled pale green.

Managing no more than turning the fire on under my tea kettle and dressing myself and the dogs in raincoats for a very brief morning potty walk, I then fumbled my way through making a big mug of hot coffee before the three of us retreated, sans raincoats, back to bed.

So much for my Thursday travel plans. I definitely wasn’t going anywhere that day, except to the “metal ranger” to pay for another night. The sudden barometer change had thrown me into a fibro flare. Since this is always a possibility in my life, I try to roll with the punches, keeping my plans as flexible as possible.

Giving myself an extra day to get somewhere (you may have noticed there’s been days I barely travel 60-100 miles before stopping for the night) and an open-ended return date, gives me the flexibility to not stress out if something like this happens.

My new plan was to take it day by day, heading for home when I felt more like driving.

In the meantime; I actually enjoy a rainy day or two on a camping trip. It’s a great excuse to get the jigsaw puzzle out, take a guilt-free afternoon nap, knit or even spin.

The wind whipped up in the late afternoon, driving in from the Pacific ocean, and as high tide approached on Thursday evening, it was with an entirely different attitude than the gently lapping wavelets of the night before.

Having grown up near the beaches of southern California, it’s hard to call these big waves 😉, but it was sure a change from the previous day!

Without the stress of a deadline to keep, I relaxed and enjoyed the play of storm clouds over the bluffs and beach, watched the eagles ride the wildly buffeting air currents, and napped to the music of wind and rain.

I remember thinking, “If it’s still this windy tomorrow, I may just pay for another day. There’s sure worse places to be.” 💨🌊💨

Social Distancing Alaska Style

I have a new T-shirt!

This (once again) tranquil beach-side campground is most likely going to fill up with weekend campers and fishermen by Friday afternoon, but mid-week, it has been an oasis of quiet. Perfect for social distancing!

There is one travel trailer parked well off to my left and behind me. It’s an active camping family with children, but far enough away to provide no more than visual entertainment.

There is another Winnebago parked at the far back end of the campground with a nice view of the marshlands and river. I’m guessing bird watchers? Although I must admit, my only bear sighting for the week was while walking past their campsite.

Don’t be alarmed – the two bears (far enough distant, I couldn’t really tell if they were brown bear or black bear) were simply loping across the river in that very distinct rolling gait of bears. They quickly disappeared into the marsh on the far side. They paid no attention whatsoever to the couple of campers taking delighted note of their passing.

My tent-camping lady friend (three campsites away) and I have the front center of the campground mostly to ourselves.

Then, for whatever reason, there is everyone else in the campground … 7-8 RVs, all jammed side by side in the one small “ocean-front” area, so close together it may as well be a parking lot. Only the RVs on either end could possibly have a decent view of the water.

Prime “ocean-front parking”; note I say parking, not camping!

There were a couple of sites available there when I first pulled in on Monday afternoon, but the close quarters didn’t appeal to me – especially these days. With an entire, nearly empty campground of fairly roomy sites to choose from, I still don’t understand why they all squeezed together like sardines in a can.

My site was spectacular, and with the one brief exception (read “The Wednesday Debacle”), I had not only a lovely view, but all the privacy I could wish for.

Watching outbound fishing boats from my RV

The sunshine and balmy temperatures held sway throughout the day on Wednesday, adding color to my cheeks in spite of sunscreen and a hat.

My outings were varied and always included at least one dachshund (usually just one dachshund, as I quickly realized I wasn’t going to get many good photos with two dogs on leashes – each with their own agenda and often at cross purposes).

Baxter preferred to play the jaunty gentleman-about-town and wanted to prance down the center of the sandy gravel road, head high, checking out anything that moved. One brisk circle of the campground, with a stop to water each corner post, was usually enough for him.

Rhonda, on the other hand, seldom had her nose off the ground unless she startled a bird into flight and insisted on following each scent to wherever it led her, which was invariably off into the tall roadside sea grass or other bushes. At least, to the extent her 6’ leash would allow.

Ronni discovered at least two old, abandoned sea-bird nests, innumerable fish skeletons (thankfully, she didn’t seem to have a desire to eat them – just finding them seemed sufficient), and heaven knows what else.

I thought she was going to start digging clams on the beach at one point, but no … she unearthed a large fish tail, still mostly intact and recognizable. She carried that prize with her for a ways before abandoning it for the next intriguing scent.

All in all, Tuesday and Wednesday were both the much-sought-after summer beach weather I had been hoping for.

The campground was fairly quiet, the surf alternating between gently swishing ashore when the inlet was quiet and mirror calm, and a peaceful but distinct background thrum of waves when weather out to sea pushed the tide in with robust rollers.

I was able to sit outside in my camp-rocker a good deal, dogs napping in the sun at my feet as I read and listened to the musical combo of ocean waves and birds. The latter consisted of several species of seagulls, ravens, small shore-birds and quiet often, bald eagles.

Every day in Ninilchik, the scenery seemed to change by the hour. The tide going out exposed a whole new beach to explore, while high tide pounded a short distance from my campsite. The family of four eagles (brilliant white-headed parents with a pair of shaded brown adolescent offspring, I’m pretty sure) added delightful aerial acrobatics for my viewing pleasure several times a day.

Walking the short distance to Deep Creek, at the end of the campground, offered a completely different view, with the family of eagles almost always in sight since their nest was high on the bluff overlooking the river.

The campground was just to the right of this photo, where Deep Creek empties into Cook Inlet.

The weather, of course, was always changing – although it stayed remarkably blue and mostly clear for these precious two days. This has been a fairly wet summer, as summers in south-central Alaska go, so I’m always appreciative of good camping weather when happen-chance offers it.

Being Alaska; of course the weather was about to change …

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: