In the last few days, we have made our way out on the Kenai Peninsula, a huge natural playground jutting out south of Anchorage.

We left Valdez last weekend, making our way to Anchorage over two easy days of driving through spectacular scenery. Nic fed our RV yet another fuel filter when we started losing engine power just outside of Glennallen. We think the fuel pump is going to fail sometime, and we really hope it will wait until we’ve done about 6,000 more miles. In the meantime, monthly fuel filter snacks seem to appease the monster well enough.

Anchorage provided a breath of…civilization. I can’t say it was refreshing, because we’d choose empty roads and slim grocery choices most days over the rat race of Anchorage. It’s easy enough to get overwhelmed in the rush of people in their daily routines and tourists like us bumbling around clumsily. We did enjoy checking some important items off our to-do list: a very speedy oil change, our second prenatal appointment, an expensive stocking-up groceries trip, lunch at Pita Pit, and a new battery for the old girl.

Did you hear our big news? Our reading list might clue you in on what’s happening in our lives in December!

Between all these errands, we found some quiet and free camping on the Matanuska River. Luna and I enjoyed the paved multiuse path by our campsite, as it gave us a chance for a long and safe run more than ten feet away from traffic and free of the fear of making a new bear friend. Our only choice the day before had been running on the shoulder of a busy highway and then finding dead-ends, seriously debilitated bridges, and threatening private property signs on the few nearby dirt roads. And we can never escape the ever-present possibility of seeing a bear stroll out of the woods. We don’t mind taking our chances on running into a bear, but we do enjoy the peace of mind while running on a nice, friendly paved path. Nic doesn’t threaten to creep behind me on his dirt bike with a shotgun in hand either. (Can you picture that?) Any Alaskan would probably tell me I am just as likely to see a bear on the paved path, but it’s easy to think that’s not the case. You may be surprised to hear that small-town Alaska provides its residents a paved path. I don’t know of many paved paths like this one where we lived in Wisconsin, yet nearly every tiny town here seems to have at least a few miles of path. The paved paths often peter out into dirt 4-wheel trails, which go for many miles around some small towns.

We headed south from Anchorage to charming Girdwood. More Colorado ski town than Alaska frontier, Girdwood was a pleasant stop for us. We slept through a very rainy night, hoping the skies would clear for some hiking the next day. The sun wasn’t shining, and we couldn’t see any blue sky, but the rain had stopped when we woke up the next morning. We have seen very little sunshine since being in Washington state, really, so now we are just very grateful for overcast skies with anything less than drizzle coming down. We took Luna on a hike up Winner Creek. After a pleasant few miles through lush forests, we arrived at a unique hand tram that would carry us across the gorge high above the rushing river. Tram riders and spectators at both sides of the gorge get a workout when they help tow each other across the river by tugging the rope through the pulley system. I had tried to find information online about whether or not dogs could use the hand tram, but I never found solid evidence saying it was possible or permitted. Luna has a rather consistent track record of freaking out on bridges and being somewhat nervous in general, but after watching a few people use the tram, we decided to see if we could get her across. The whole thing was so foreign to her anyway that we thought she would be over the gorge before she even figured out that the situation called for a neurotic episode. She and I crouched in the metal basket together as Nic and some kind strangers pulled us across the river. Luna probably didn’t love the experience as much as rolling in dead fish, but she did just fine and even got some encouraging cheers from spectators.

Nic gets his workout towing a few people across the gorge.

Winner Creek hike.

Nic’s turn to ride!

Hiking by Winner Creek gave us a chance to have an informal executive meeting about the future. We are both really excited about settling down in northwest Montana. While we are still loving the adventure, we are also thrilled for what lies beyond the big road trip. We look forward to that day when we park our vehicles in the same spot every night, get squeaky clean in our own real shower, bake homemade bread, watch our sewage disappear effortlessly, and wash our dishes in a dishwasher. And we now have a hard deadline with a baby on the way in December. We certainly want some time to adjust to new surroundings before the baby’s arrival. So we made our next prenatal appointment in Kalispell about a month from now, and Nic applied for a job. We will swing through the area in late July/early August and try to find a place to live and a job or two. We will make our way back to Wisconsin in August to spend time with friends and family and pack our storage units into a moving truck before heading west for good.

Since the rain continued to hold off after our Winner Creek hike, we decided to squeeze in one more tourist activity for the day. While the Alyeska Ski Resort tram whisked Nic up 2,200 feet of ski hill, I hiked up the steep slope. He gave me a big head start, so we arrived at about the same time. The clouds hovered over the mountains, but we still had a nice view of Turnagain Sound and a few of the hanging glaciers in the area.

Alyeska Ski Resort tram.

Hanging glacier views.

Turnagain Sound

We left Girdwood that afternoon and made the short drive to Whittier. Accessible by road for less than two decades, Whittier is an interesting little town. The only way to drive there is to pass through the one-lane Anton Anderson Memorial Tunnel, the longest combined vehicle-railroad tunnel in North America. We paid our tunnel toll and waited in our assigned lane for our turn in the narrow 2.5-mile tunnel. Traffic alternates between each direction on the half hour, and you can’t drive into town at all hours of the night. A train passes through the tunnel at regular intervals also, which we had a chance to observe while waiting. At 7:30pm on the dot, the tunnel officials began releasing the lanes of traffic around us. The tunnel itself was dark and damp, and Nic said he could feel the slippery train rails pulling on our wheels. We couldn’t see much of Whittier over the next twelve hours because of the heavy downpour of rain. We drove to the end of town the next morning, passing by what was once the largest building in Alaska (built to house 1,000 military personnel during World War II). We also saw the two small condo buildings where the majority of Whittier’s small population now resides. As we headed back to the tunnel, we wondered about the long line of cars coming into town. Whittier does connect with other port towns by ferry, so maybe the cars were headed for other destinations via water.

Kachemak Bay views from the end of Homer Spit.

Trying to follow the path of least precipitation, we headed to Homer next. Our drive took us through beautiful mountain scenery on the Kenai. Eventually, the mountains gave way to the dreaded spruce swamps we had been so happy to escape recently. As we drove toward the Cook Inlet, we hoped we weren’t in for more mosquito wars. Though the flat route took us past famous (and attractive) fishing rivers, we wondered if driving all the way to Homer was worth it. Just before reaching Homer, the highway crested a hill, and we were astonished to see the Kachemak Bay and a backdrop of towering mountains. Worth it. We’ve been enjoying the small town of Homer these last few days. We can see glaciers and mountains from our relatively quiet campsite. We did a few scenic drives, visited the local farmer’s market, acquainted ourselves with the high school pool (very clean and very hot showers), and browsed some interesting local shops. We love this little town at the tip of the Kenai.