Alaska Road Warriors

This is a travel/figure-it-out day. It’s raining everywhere. All day. It’s too far to drive to Anchorage for the museum (and our stupid grill part), so Dave made us the last of the blueberries for some pancakes and we pulled out. Destination unknown. In the rain. Soaking wet. 

Given that we have to be in Homer by tomorrow night for our ferry ride to Kodiak Island, we are headed that way. 

I was anxious to see Soldatna — where most of the fishermen we’ve talked were basing out of. I swear it seems more populated than Anchorage! More cars than I have seen anywhere, including Denali. (I did some research after I wrote this and, indeed, Soldatna is a large town. Nearby Kenai is even more populated. Makes sense, as this is where most fishing visitors base and that’s where the business is.)

Mark, the guide from a couple days ago, had recommended Kenai Brewery for their burgers, so we simply made a beeline there and set up shop for the afternoon — strategically spacing out beers, a Reuben, a wedge salad and more beer. Assuming we needed to be “active customers” to be able to take up space in their restaurant. It rained steady the entire day. No let up. The brewery was consistently crowded the whole time — and we were there for about 5 hours. I kept waiting for them to kick us out. It was a real good reason to day-drink, even if neither of us felt like it. 

Dave got caught up on the Olympics, which I had recorded on YouTubeTV and I, who had been writing for 4 straight hours since we left camp that morning was finally caught up.

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…I wrote that last sentence a week ago and haven’t written since. It has been a very busy 7 days. I am now sitting in a cold (but not rainy!) site trying hard to get my fingers working so I can type. So far not good.

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After we left the brewery, we continued south on the Sterling Highway toward Homer with some conflict about where to stop and camp. We knew we didn’t want to be in the circus town of Soldotna — or anywhere near it — but undecided how close to get to Homer, which we also thought might be a bit of a zoo.

We weren’t CRABBY, necessarily. Just worn down by the rain. Dave seemed to want to go one place and I was sort of contrary. I can’t even remember why. I just know it was more of a mood than a logical reason.

We explored a bit of the coastline around Kasilof River — known for its King Salmon run. Everything we read made it sound like a huge fishing hotspot, but it was completely deserted. Huge RV parks, completely empty. Which only adds to our sense of generalized bewilderment about Alaska fishing. 

We settled on the Ninilchik River Recreation Area campground which was all but a ghost town. From what we can tell, the vast majority of campers seem to want to park in RV parking lots. I’m sure you can picture it, but can you really?

This was a very nice campground. Not muddy or worn out. Lots of privacy. That said, each spot is actually TWO spots. So I guess it wouldn’t be quite so nice if there were another camper or tent 10 feet away from us before the next buffer, but in this case, we didn’t have to worry about it. 

Which is weird.

Where is everyone? What memo did we not receive?

Granted, it was a deluge. And there were exactly two other sites occupied out of 48 sites — both tenters. We felt so bad for them. But these Alaskan campers are TOUGH. They are tarp EXPERTS. But still, man. It’s a DRAG to camp in unrelenting rain. And ten times more so in a tent. With KIDS! 

We got the camper and awning set up and I set to making dinner. Nothing sounded too good after sitting in a brewery all day, but I am seriously worried I’m slowly starving Skinny Dave Menke, so cook I must — but something quick and easy, given the rain, rain, rain…

Pho? No…. I don’t feel good for it

Indian? Sounds really good, but no…. Too complicated

Mac n Cheese? Gosh no

Indian sounds so good… maybe just rice and lentils? But I have this ear of corn… That sounds really weird…

But that’s what I did. Indian Corn Chowder. This is a meal only a camper could love.

And that was it. We ate it in the rain and went to bed.

I’m starting to think this sounds like a really boring trip. Truthfully, I am super relieved we have not had any real problems. But PROBLEMS make for funny stories. I feel like there aren’t any funny stories… but I must soldier on. But you, dear reader don’t have to. Don’t think you HAVE to read these!

Now that we’ve got that out of the way…

It rained all night and was still raining when we got up. *oh my GOSH* But not to worry: weatherman Dave had a plan. Laundry and showers in Homer. That (necessary) diversion would easily kill a couple hours and give the weather time to burn off. I must say: he has been UNCANNILY accurate in his forecasts…

It took us about 45 minute to get to Homer. The laundry/shower spot was very nice. Funny, how that has become a thing: “WOW… nice laundromat! Let’s look at the showers!” I find myself wondering if Minnesota has anything like these, that have become islands of respite… I don’t think so. I don’t think Colorado does either. They should. My experience with laundromats at home is gross. They are dirty, the machines are gross, there is no one on-site to make sure people are behaving. In Alaska there is always a staff. And they do laundry if you drop it off for a reasonable price. Help me out: does this exist in the lower 48? Am I just blind?

Anyway, the woman in charge was friendly, but also seriously scary. That’s probably why it was nice; no one would mess with her. I know WE weren’t gonna mess with her. She followed us around after we paid for our showers asking us when we were going in so she could start our timer. She was intimidating.

I was so worried that after I finished blow-drying my hair, I crawled around on my hands and knees picking up any random hairs on the floor. I don’t even do that in my own bathroom! I guess you could say she is good at her job.

We took a spin down the Homer Spit (a long, narrow land mass that juts out into the bay) to the ferry depot to check out things out for our trip that evening. We dropped the camper off at long-term parking, since it is not making the trip on the ferry with us (*sob*). Since the wind had picked up a bit and the sun had come out (thank you, Weatherman Dave), we unfurled the awning to let it dry out before we locked our baby up and set about exploring Homer.

Homer Spit is tourist central. A veritable carnival. We figured we’d check it out later and proceeded back onto the mainland to see Old Homer — which was very quaint and cute. We walked the beach and visited a VERY cool used bookstore. The oldest book they had was from 1640! They also had this INSANE old bible from 1817. $5000 seemed a bargain. I kind of wish I had asked him if I could look at it.

We boogied back to the Spit, parked and walked the docks looking at boats…

Visited some famous pub with dollar bills nailed all over… and landed at a restaurant that Dave had read had good fish’n chips. But it wasn’t open. So we waited next door at a taco spot where I ordered MY dinner of rockfish tacos and beer. 

We caught up with friends on FaceTime over Dave’s fish’n chips and headed to the ferry. 

…Where we waited almost 3 hours to board. THREE HOURS! I didn’t find out until the next day that the ferry was already running at least an hour late when we got there. Not sure why they didn’t tell us that, but the way it works is you park in a “staging area” and wait until you’re told to drive on board. People with vehicles are required to line up 2 hours ahead of the departure time. We got there a little ahead of that, being nervous newbies. We asked the guy in charge (the Purser) if it was possible to be loaded last (with the idea we’d be first off), as we were scheduled to halibut fish the next morning when the ferry was scheduled to arrive in Kodiak. He was super nice and said he’d do what he could and told us to “hide” in a certain area and to wait until he called us over.

It was a super interesting process. During the long wait, we met some New Zealanders who had recently flown here and bought a vintage 1978 Toyota Chinook camper. Super cool. Glad it’s not mine, but still super cool.

Anyway… after what seemed like forever, the Purser came over and said we had to get in line and “hope for the best.” About 60% of the vehicles had loaded by that point, so we were hopeful we’d be near the front. 

We got picked out of line almost right after that. Each vehicle has a ticket on it which lists the exact length. They try to put cars in pairs that don’t exceed 40’ and load them two at a time. As luck would have it, we got plucked out of the back of the line and loaded onto the ferry with a pickup  — and unloaded on the car deck into the literal back of the bus. Unbelievable. 

We grabbed our stuff and headed up to the decks, put our stuff in our “stateroom” and went outside to watch the rest of the loading. It took FOREVER – probably another hour. We watched for about 30 minutes before getting bored and starting to move away. And right about that time (this is now about 4 hours after we were first in line) was when the NON-NERVOUS NON-NEWBIES started to show up. There were probably 4 more cars that drove up right as the last cars were being queued up to load like they owned the place, waited about 15 total minutes and ended up right in front on the car deck. 

oh the KARMA!

It was super late by the time we left the dock, but we stayed up and watched the moon rise until we were out of Kachemak Bay and into the bigger sea. Dave had taken a couple sea sick pills just to be safe and was glad he did, as he started feeling a little yuck-o about the time we went to bed and things got much more wild through the night — though we were later told it really wasn’t that bad.

We saw some whales, talked with various people and had a decent breakfast on the boat before arriving. We also got the sad news that our halibut charter had been cancelled due to wind — which was probably good since the ferry was running really (REALLY) late. It also took all the pressure off getting off-loaded which, unsurprisingly, took a long time.

We were able to check in to our Airbnb a bit early — which was adorable, and VERY Alaskan (looked like a shack on the outside but was very nice inside).

We had to pass by the “trolls” before we actually made it to the door though: one GIANT mastiff, one medium golden and one happy terrier. Nowhere in the reviews did anyone mention these dogs. We LOVE dogs. ALL dogs. But I can think of several people who would not have gotten out of their cars. No one came out to call them off, so we just assumed they must be nice. 

I know, probably not the smartest move, but we like to think we are dog whisperers. And, as is usually the case, these trolls were all show/no go. We are well versed in that language.

We got settled and headed out to explore.

We hit a spot called White Sands Beach, which is very much an overstatement on the “white sand.” It is closer to “Black Sand Beach with white sprinkles.” But it was beautiful. And as we were leaving, I saw something far off a point in the water. We backtracked until we could get close enough to see what it was: medium size fish torpedoing out of the water! Obviously salmon, but we had no idea they did that. We presume they were Pinks. Super mesmerizing  and fun to watch.

The big debate of the day was hike? No hike? Yes hike? No?

No. 

No hike.

We drive.

We drove to the top of the hill overlooking Kodiak Town where there were sentinels of windmills absolutely ripping through the wind. Gorgeous view. From there, we planned to drive to a river to fish, but the road looked pretty sketch. I was dumbfounded that Dave didn’t just point the Bronco down the path and go. I fully expected it and prepared to keep my mouth shut. But, no! He surprised me! I was happy! Instead, we turned around and headed back the way we came.

And promptly got a flat tire.

Oh the karma.

It has been several years since we had to change a tire in the wild. And the first time with the Bronco, but it went pretty dang smoothly, if I do say so myself. That tire went from full to flat in a matter of two minutes. I could feel the air rushing out, but I couldn’t see what popped the tire. 

We dropped it off at a tire shop on the island that was luckily still open and were told it would be done by the next afternoon — assuming they could fix it.

We checked out an area we might want to fish and read about a problem bear in the area (which was BEAUTIFUL).

I yelped restaurants on Kodiak to see what sounded good and learned that, like much of Alaska, restaurants aren’t really a “thing”. Oh, they have them. It’s not that. It’s just that they don’t really have NICE restaurants. I don’t need fancy. I just need GOOD. But the only GOOD seems to be in the form of deep fried and french fried. I mean…

I can do that. 

But…

Those dumbbells that are wasting away under the seat of the Bronco aren’t gonna save me from french fries, so why even bother? I’ve decided I’m gonna be fat and happy until we get home. Case closed. 

Anyway, as I searched for a restaurant and realized there were NOT THAT MANY. Then, I noticed that literally all but TWO (of the not very many in the first place) were closed on Mondays. We got to choose between “Noodles” and Old Henry’s Alaskan Restaurant.” A ramen shop or bar food.

We picked bar food. And I had my childhood favorite eating-out meal of deep fried shrimp (much to my dad’s dismay as it was usually the most expensive thing on the menu). I used to BEG to have deep fried shrimp at EVERY restaurant we ever ate at, most commonly, Mr. Steak. Remember Mr. Steak?? Basically, eating in Alaska is like going back to the late 70’s and eating out at Mr. Steak, now that I think about it. 

I gotta say, my deep fried shrimp was to DIE for. Dave’s was not. He got the “Captain’s Platter” which was a medley of grilled seafood — one item of which was bacon-wrapped scallops. The problem is, bacon doesn’t really crisp up (or even cook for that matter) on a grill in the time it takes a scallop to cook. So it was unappetizing at best and dangerously raw at worst. And it kind of wrecked everything else for him.

But the beer was good!

We were super tired — or maybe that was just me, as Dave slept pretty well on the ferry and I did not — so we didn’t dally. We went back to the Airbnb and pretty much went right to bed.

We went to bed super early with hopes of getting at least SOME sleep before our THREE A.M. alarm. We had gotten the rather disappointing news yesterday that the guy we researched and booked for our fly fishing trip to Saltry Creek was passing us off to a guide who works for him. Sound familiar? Whatever. I’m sure it doesn’t really matter. Or at least that’s what we tell ourselves, because: what are you gonna do about it?

We called him, because, at some point yesterday, after driving around the Island and watching people fish, something occurred to me. Knowing much more about Alaska fishing than we knew when we booked this trip, I said to Dave, “So I assume we are gonna be flossing tomorrow,?” And Dave was like “No. We are fly fishing.” And then like one minute later, “Right?” And then another minute later of debate, “Oh my gosh. You are probably right.”

He called and Travis answered. He was on his roof, in the middle of replacing it.

[Aside] All we heard yesterday as we explored Kodiak was how AMAZING the weather was. (And it was.) But the genuine looks of pure astonishment and the “NO REALLYs” that we encountered from locals was a bit crazy. 

Now, talking to Travis, we learn that it’s *because of this nice weather* that he is sending us out with someone else. He’s apparently been waiting FIVE YEARS for 3 sunny days in a row on Kodiak to do his roof. And here it is. 

And oh, by the way, “You’ll be meeting your guide, Jack,  at 4 am.”  When Dave balked at that ridiculous call time, Travis said, “Four a.m. if you want to catch some fish. It’s fine if you want to go later if you just want to have a nice day and see the sights.”

Four a.m. it was.

Which actually meant three a.m. for our alarms.

I didn’t sleep more than an hour. Not sure if it was knowing I had to get up at 3 a.m. or if it was the damn waterproof mattress pad. I HATE THOSE! I guess I’m like the Princess and the Pea. I can feel every wrinkle; hear ever crinkle…

We were both, honestly, just putting our heads down and trying to make the best of it. We felt like VICTORS, having escaped the comedy of flossing for Sockeye on the Kenai. We had been imagining real fly fishing on Kodiak and had been looking forward to it more than anything else. And we were getting up in the middle of the night to go snag fish — and that was if we were LUCKY, since the Sockeyes were all but done.

If I haven’t waxed poetic enough about the strangeness of fishing in Alaska then you haven’t been reading along. But I should clarify that our experience is largely based on the timing of our trip and the order of the salmon runs. We are here during the beloved (because they are so tasty, not because they are fun to fish) Sockeye run — which don’t bite bait or lures 95% of the time. So you snag them by “flossing.” We are also here during crazy rains. August is always rainy in Alaska but this has been a record year for many of the parts we are in. So that pretty much shuts off trout, Dolly Varden and char — the species we were most excited to fish for. Very soon the Silver (Coho) run should start, which from everything we hear, is a gas. They bite. So do Kings, which run much earlier. Pinks and chums bite as well, but these have not yet been seen by us.

As I said, we are still (STILL!) figuring all this out. 

Anyway, we actually were EARLY meeting Jack, the guide. Three rounds of APPLAUSE for the MENKES!! 

Jack was also adorable. 

I wonder if manly fishing guides would take issue with being called adorable…

He loaded us up into the ATV and we hit the trail. It was about an hour and a half on a rough, flooded out trail, up and over a pass, and down to the other side of the island. We went through HUGE puddles of standing water that I would have thought were impassable. Despite being the sister of the former president of Polaris, I can’t say I’ve ever truly ATV’d before, so what do I know? It should also be noted that this was a HONDA 4×4, so… ?

Heh heh

We got set up on the creek and got schooled in how to FLOSS. No one makes it out to be anything more than it is: a legal snag. Apparently, it’s pretty easy if there are a lot of fish in the water. Jack claims there isn’t much skill involved, but I would beg to differ, since he was able to hook a fish after just casting a few times while I damn near wore out my rotator cuff with nothing to show for it.

Dave caught a few — good for him! Jack caught a couple and handed me the rod to land and I lost them. Jennie is not a good flosser or fish lander, sadly.

Ironically, both Dave and I can see how people get into it. It becomes sort of an obsession to see 5 or 6 fish schooled up and seeing your fly/hook/lure go past them and miss. It’s kind of like playing that bar game where you try to swing the hoop on a rope and hook the nail on the wall. 

The vistas and scenery were breathtaking. Cliché, I know, but it was.

We got three very nice fresh silver sockeye salmon (you want them when they are still silver in color, vs the red color that they turn as they start the spawn). 

We moved upriver to have lunch and talk to the guys who work at the weir counting the fish in the stream as they enter the lake. Manually. One at a time. It must be mind numbing. And lonely. Cuz that guy, Ben, damn near talked our ear off. (He, too, was adorable.)

We planned to end the day casting to pinks (I FINALLY CAUGHT/SNAGGED ONE lol)…

…And wouldn’t you know, just as if God Himself ordered it up, a grizzly came walking up the river! Ben, the fish counter, told us his name was Bruce and he had a bum leg from an unknown incident. They’d seen him around all summer. We were glad to have seen Bruce and not Reba McIntyre with her two daughters (a mama bear with her cubs), as they are far more unpredictable. 

What a great end to the day. 

The ATV ride was much more fun in the light of the day, too. 

We brought the fish to the processor/shipper and headed back to the Airbnb to hang out on the deck and enjoy the weather. 

We ate an early dinner at a sushi place on the water and it was warm enough to actually eat outside! 

Despite wanting to sleep in, we never really CAN. We wake up when we wake up and that is kind of it. (Doesn’t mean I have to get out of bed though, does it?) Dave, of course, made us coffee and then went out to the car to grab some breakfast stuff out of the car and reported back that the neighbor boys were already outside playing (7:30 am) — the youngest, naked again. We had assumed he was only circumstancially naked the first time we met him upon our arrival. This was false. 

He is always naked.

The kid simply doesn’t wear clothes. Ever. 

We have this on good authority (mom and grandpa). Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think it’s any big deal. As my brother will be quick to point: MY kids were naked most of the time. So I want to be clear that I find the naked part adorable. I’m simply taking issue with the ALASKAN ELEMENTS and the temperature! He’s running around on rocks, climbing on cars, sitting in the dirt while he is also NAKED. In 50 degree weather! Impressive.

We had the whole day to kill before leaving on the ferry in the evening, so we set out to drive around the island. Maybe fish. Maybe hike. 

But definitely drive.

We stopped at fossil beach and saw the cool bowling balls made of sand and silt locked into layers of rock that hold ancient shells and crustaceans. We fished Pagashak River, known for its King Salmon run which was all but deserted. (No. We didn’t catch anything.)

We drove to Chiniak Point going the other way, which, despite the description wasn’t “all that.”

We saw thousands of salmon in every little creek we crossed. Mostly Chums, we think. Dave dangled a fly from a bridge to see what would happen and wouldn’t you know, he got a bite. Much chaos ensued as he had to scramble down the steep brushy bank while I held the pole (and the fish), then handed him the pole so he could release it. 

I think (though we did not see this for ourselves) this is how thick the Sockeye can be when you are flossing for them and why it’s considered so easy to snag them. Makes sense. (Versus casting to just five of them.)

We ultimately were headed back to the Buskin River near the Coast Guard base (biggest in USA) to fish for whatever would bite — presumably pinks and chums. It was a beautiful day and we were just enjoying it. 

Do I sound like I am making excuses for not catching fish?

I am. 

I casted till my arm fell off. I tried everything. I DID have a bite or two. Dave snagged a chum by the tail and caught one legitimately. He might have had another one on and lost it — I can’t remember and I don’t care. I’m working hard not to be petulant when Dave catches fish and I don’t — it happens more often than not and it’s hard not to be a baby about it. At least for me… And right now I’m being a baby.

Plus: we watched two guys upstream catching fish after fish after fish. I finally went up there to ask them what they were fishing with. Usually I’m not one to do that (“too embarrassing”) but age, casting fatigue and envy — along with the 100% positive, friendly interactions I have had with Alaskans so far — fueled my bravery. 

Plus I’m a girl and therefore unintimitdating, right? Surely they’d be nice to me?

Wrong.

The guy was an ass.

But I stood there anyway and watched them. They were doing exactly what we were and using similar flies. I think they were just in the honey hole. Which was also the troublesome bear that we had read about’s honey hole — from what a FRIENDLY local fisherman told us. 

I don’t know. I don’t know what to say or how to explain it.

I just know I got skunked again.

But it was really beautiful. And nice out.

We had picked a very dicey-looking spot to eat dinner called The Rendezvous which got really good reviews. It was quirky. But very good. I got halibut tacos and Dave had a Halibut burger and we split some clam chowder. (Spoiler Alert: even after almost the whole trip Dave still rates the Halibut burger he ordered here as the best of the trip).

Speaking of halibut, Dave was able to get us on a charter out of Ninilchik (30 min north of Homer) for Friday, so we plan to stay in the area after we get back to Homer. Weather is iffy, though, so just hoping we are able to go out. 

The Rendezvous was delicious and we timed it perfectly for our 6:45 pm arrival to the ferry staging area. We were no long newbies and knew what to expect. And I had done my homework and knew the ferry was in port and on time. Far less angst and drama knowing we didn’t need to be to a fishing charter right when we docked the next morning. However, we DID have an appointment at Midas in Soldatna at 10 am to get the oil changed and the tires rotated on the Bronco in anticipation of the drive home.

And, as luck would have it, we were loaded pretty near the front, so things are looking good!

Dave went right to bed  (in the same room we had coming over!) and I sat and watched Kodiak go by. It was calm and beautiful. 

We arrived back at Homer right on time and got unloaded. But even with everything going right, we didn’t drive off the ferry until 9 am. And we had completely forgotten that Soldotna, where the oil change appointment was, is 90 minutes away from Homer.

And I needed a latte.

And we decided we should probably drop the camper at the same campground we stayed at on our way down.

(We like to keep things exciting.)

So we were like 45 minutes late for our appointment. Which, honestly, didn’t really matter because they were so short staffed we probably would have just waited longer than the 4 hours we DID have to wait if we had arrived at 10. 

We walked to a restaurant for breakfast but missed the cut off and had lunch instead. It was pretty bad. And let me just say this: Soldatna is INSANE. Busy. Super high prices. Crazy drivers. Clueless rental camper drivers. It’s not a place I’d want to stay. It’s a place to get out of!

We walked to the grocery store and shopped. 

We sat outside Midas. We sat inside Midas. We waited.

And eventually it was done. We drove back down to Ninilchik River campground where the camper was and climbed into our waders to go fish Deep Creek.

We fished. We walked. We bushwacked. We looked high and low for fish. We walked all the way from the highway bridge to the mouth of the river where it meets the bay. 

Nada.

Just when we think we are getting a handle on this Alaskan fishing thing, we get schooled. Are we supposed to be fishing with the tides? Where are the salmon? You usually at least see lumbering salmon…

WHO THE HECK KNOWS! We gave up.

It was raining and raining and raining. Both awnings out for the first time ever. More Italian sausage. More pasta. We have the campground entirely to ourselves. Isn’t that weird? We think it’s weird. Maybe even a little creepy.

Halibut fishing in the morning. Call time: 5:30 am *sigh*