We were on the Sterling Highway, gliding along the Kenai River, which reflected the gray of the overcast sky.
I’d been on the lookout from the back seat since we’d left Anchorage a couple of hours earlier. Nothing so far. Through the tree line, I gazed at two distinct clumps of fishermen knee-high in the chilly water, at what I assumed was a choke point for salmon. Then I spotted it across the river.
“Bear!” I shouted. “Pull over, quick.”
There was a spot about a hundred yards down the highway. Both kids slept in the back seat with me; my yelling woke only one. I grabbed the conscious one by the hand and jumped out the car, running back down the highway. The 5-year-old was losing ground, so I went back and grabbed her under one arm, like I was running with a roll of carpet.
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I looked ridiculous and didn’t care.
This is why I went to Alaska: I wanted to see wildlife with my daughter. Our first couple of days in Anchorage revolved around my girlfriend, Michelle, running the Mayor’s Marathon last June. Her friend Tamara, a resident of Soldotna, down the Kenai Peninsula, played tour guide. The scenery was breathtaking enough for my daughter and Michelle’s daughter to not once complain of being bored. But this was Alaska, where moose roamed through towns of colorful folks. At least they did on TV.
By now the other 5-year-old was awake and bringing up the rear with Michelle and Tamara. I scrambled down the riverbank, hoping it was still there.
We got there just in time to see a black bear stick its head in the water and come up with a salmon, oblivious to the fishermen dozens of yards away on both sides. I snapped a couple of fuzzy pictures across the wide river, just as the bear ambled back into the forest. Then a bald eagle landed on a branch just above where the bear took his lunch into the forest.
That was why I went to Alaska.
Flying seven hours with two 5-year-olds is never a picnic; at least until you get their attention by pointing out the midnight sun lighting up the glaciers below. Going to Alaska on the first day of summer is a never-ending lesson for kids on geography and the seasons, because you never stop explaining why it’s not dark at midnight. You never stop talking about mountains and moose and glaciers and whales.
Anchorage was an intriguing, midsize American city plunked down in the wilderness. One can walk a few blocks from the convention center to a river where fishermen pull salmon from the water under a restaurant/bridge spanning the waterway. But the real action started once we journeyed south on the Seward Highway. The road runs between the Cook Inlet and spectacular snow-covered mountains, before going over Turnagain Pass and next to the Kenai River. Where bears live.
After spending the night in Soldotna, we drove a couple of hours down to the end of the highway and Homer but not before stopping by the Challenger Learning Center of Alaska — a sort of space camp where kids learn about the space program.
Down the road a bit was where I saw my first pair of moose — and by the time the day was done, I’d seen no fewer than six. There are so many moose on the Kenai Peninsula, officials have placed signs along the way, counting how many had been struck and hit by cars that season (that particular day, the count stood at 170; they don’t have signs telling you how many cars didn’t survive the collisions).
You also can drive for miles when suddenly, out of nowhere, pops up an establishment such as Walt and Connie’s Knives, featuring a huge wooden jackknife on the side of the road.
Homer bills itself as the halibut fishing capital of the world and “a quaint little drinking town with a fishing problem.” Homer’s most notable characteristic is its 4.5-mile spit, extending out into Kachemak Bay, across which stands the snowy slopes of Augustine Volcano. Homer is full of shops, bars, restaurants and halibut fishermen.
The summer halibut derby just started and what turned out to be the season’s runner-up was just being strung up behind the Salty Dawg Saloon. It was a bedroom-wall-size, 340-pounder that landed on the front page of the Anchorage newspaper the next day.
With a quick break from the kids, we ducked into the Salty Dawg, a dark and semifamous tavern where money lines the walls and finding a seat is difficult. Most people were drinking the local brew from the Homer Brewing Co. just down the spit, served in recycled Sobe bottles.
The owner told us the story of how, decades ago, a man walked in and tacked a dollar on the wall of the log cabin/bar. He explained that his friend would be by later and the buck was to buy him a drink. A tradition was started: People sign their names to bills and find an empty spot to tack them up.
We retraced part of our drive the next morning, heading south to Seward. There we boarded a ship called the Glacier Express and spent six hours in the Gulf of Alaska on a guided tour through Kenai Fjords National Park. The cruise featured a park ranger putting kids through paces along their way to earning Junior Ranger badges.
A six-hour tour seemingly would bore kids to tears. But there was no end to the sights. Just when someone would see a sea lion on one side, the captain would spot a humpback whale and everyone would scramble to the other side. Even on a bright, clear day in summer — thankfully — Alaska is cold enough to keep the ice intact.
The green mountains gave way to the Harding ice field and one magnificent glacier after another. The ship got close enough to hear the clunking of floating ice against the hull and the shotgun-like boom of blue ice breaking off the glacier and splashing to the bay. Even pulling back into the harbor at day’s end, there was still a sea otter floating by to excite the kids.
Seward is home to the Alaska SeaLife Center, the region’s equivalent to the Monterey Bay Aquarium, and we went there our second day in town before heading back to Soldotna. The center was built in 1998, with the Exxon Valdez Oil Settlement fund providing $26 million of the $56 million needed for construction.
Though it serves as a rehab hospital for sick and injured animals, the place is a prime spot to take kids. There are lots of sea lions, sea birds, fish and other critters. There also is plenty of information on not only the animals in their care but the 1989 oil spill that wiped out so much of the area’s wildlife.
We retraced our drive back to Anchorage the next day, just as awed by the mountains, lakes and rivers as we had been a few days earlier. Again, there was enough scenery to keep the kids occupied.
By this time we hadn’t seen real darkness in a week, as the sun usually would go down only for a few hours, long after we fell asleep. We watched our last Alaskan sunset around midnight from the airport terminal, just before we got on the plane.
And what I thought might be a week of complaining kids, bored without cartoons, turned into the rare vacation exceeding all expectations. The kids still ask when we can go back.
– – –
IF YOU GO
GETTING THERE
Tackling the Kenai Peninsula probably requires flying into Anchorage and renting a car to drive south, though trips in smaller planes from Anchorage to the Homer airport are available. Driving takes longer, which isn’t necessarily bad with all that scenery. The narrow roads in this part of Alaska aren’t nearly as bad as some might lead you to believe. Though, to be fair, we were there at the beginning of summer and there was still plenty of rain while driving through the snow-capped mountains.
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WHERE TO STAY AND EAT
Anchorage is no problem, as just about every major hotel chain is represented. Restaurants and stores are far more plentiful downtown than in the outlying areas.
Doing the Kenai Peninsula means hitting both Seward and Homer, at the very least. Seward is a major harbor for cruise lines, and the daylong sightseeing cruises originate there, so there are plenty of smaller places to stay and restaurants in which to eat (quick hint: make reservations at the nicer waterfront places, or you can wait for hours). Seward also has camping and trailer facilities. Check out Seward at www.sewardak.org.
Lacking the cruise ship industry, Homer isn’t quite such a tourist destination, which may appeal to people wanting to get to know some Alaskan locals. Homer still has more than 35 lodging options. For more info on Homer, go to www.homeralaska.org. For authentic Homer brewed beer, try Salty Dawg Saloon (4380 Homer Spit; 907-235-6718; www.saltydawgsaloon.com).
WHAT TO DO
Homer’s Halibut Derby runs from May 1 to Labor Day, and the town hosts salmon derbies in the fall. For a city of about 5,000, Homer has more than its share of art galleries and museums. In Kenai, learn about the space program at Challenger Learning Center of Alaska (8711 Kenai Spur Highway; 907-283-2000; www.akchallenger.org/). View the glaciers and Kenai Fjords tours with a Glacier Express cruise. Two tour companies include Renown Tours (888-514-8687; www.renown
tours.com) and Kenai Fjords Tours (877-777-4051; www
.kenaifjords.com).
In Seward, visit the Alaska SeaLife Center (301 Railway Ave.; 888-378-2525; www.alaskasealife.org), an aquarium and wildlife rehab facility.
In Anchorage, enjoy a multitude of outdoor activities. Go to www.anchorage.net for more information.
— T.H.