Goodbye Denali! I enjoyed my long stay at Denali but was eager to move on. On my way south, I stopped at the two Mt. Denali viewing sites between the park and Anchorage and was able to get a last view. Along the drive, I tried to ignore moose munching down the young plant growth. I sure wont miss you gals, I muttered. In Anchorage, I stopped at the Joann Fabric store to pick up some yarn and a few other things. Back in the car: destination Homer, AK on the Kenai Peninsula.

I was speechless as I drove from Anchorage to the Kenai. With towering mountains all around, the road followed the shoreline and then rose into the mountains themselves. At Turnagain Pass I decided that – this– was this prettiest part of Alaska (I feel that way everywhere I go).

The next adventure started when I suddenly turned off the highway, at the sign to Hope, AK. I wasn’t consciously headed to Hope; someone, somewhere must have told me to stop here. Or, I read it somewhere, because when I saw the sign and another smaller sign with a tent icon, I simply turned. Hope, AK, where have I heard of it before?

I followed the 16-mile road to where it ended in the Pocupine NPS campground. At 6 PM, the campground was full. Darn. I wanted to stay around here someplace but maybe not.  I started to drive off. Then I saw the barely visible turn into Hope. If I had been looking the other way I would have completly missed it. But I did not miss it. I turned left into an amazing small coastal Alaska town (pop 190) set behind the trees and across the river. They seemed dedicated to welcoming travelers, folks from Anchorage needing a respite, and old wanderers like me.

I found, at the foot of main street, at the edge of the tidal flat lands, a small RV park. It was full, but I read the sign anyway, which said something about tent camping. I looked across the road and there I saw the welcoming scene: a grassy area along the river with a few tents. Joy, joy, joy. Tango! A cool place to spend the night.

Next door to the cafe, which was next door to the saloon, I found the little office and paid my $10 for the night. I learned that on this very night, on the deck connecting the bar and cafe, which were right across from the grassy tent area, a band would play. I drove right into a party. After so long away from human activity it sounded wonderful to be in a happening little place, camped on the grass. Over the next few hours, many others arrived to the party and set up tents, a mix of young professionals, young familes with cute kids, and a few older folks like me. The rest of the older folks were in the RV spaces. The people brought dogs so it was a bit unruly at times, but mostly they managed around each other.

Then, the music started, ambitious soft and medium soft 70s stuff, like “Blackbird.” The crowd spilled onto the deck and enjoyed the perfect night. I sat across the road and talked to folks while listening. At one point, I heard that Hope is famous for its pie, so I walked to the cafe and bought a piece of caramel apple, the best pie ever. Better than Pietown, NM or maybe it was the setting.

Then, without warning, at 11 PM the sun moved out from behind the mountains to the west. Instead of setting, the midnight sun circles behind the mountains then reemerges. It was low enough then to look like it was setting and cast a golden swath of light across the tidelands. I can’t describe yet the magic of the late summer sun, except to say that the light it casts is sublime. Some of the best light is on the buildings and scenery to the east, which is lit up as though on fire. As the sun emerged, people poured out of the pub, restaurants, tents, and RVs, and they drifted along the riverbank and onto the open tidal lands, as though on a pilgrimage. I heard, “amazing”, “gorgeous,” this is a beauty you won’t see anywhere else.” It is true. With no darkness at night now, the sun follows an impossible path and casts hues and shadows that are only seen here or in other areas under the perpetual sun. At that moment, it seemed as if summer finally arrived in Alaska. After all the cold and all the rain, the Alaska summer made its appearance and I was ready. That is not to say I can do without long underwear at night, but warm sunnier days make the memories of bleak rainy days fade even farther into the past.

I eventually settled into my tent and turned on an audiobook (“State of Wonder”, Ann Patchett). The human sounds competed and I enjoyed them more, so I turned off the book. From the pub across the street, late night partiers laughing and talking. At the campsites, the crackle of fires and conversations. Someone yelling “Moose”. Wait, moose? Moose followed me from Denali? Moose dare to interrupt this bucolic scene? F—-ing Moose. I stayed in the tent and listened for any further commotion. Nothing. Eventually, after cursing the moose of the world, I fell asleep.

Weeks ago I gave up looking at the clock. With perpetual sun, cycles get disrupted. I tend to fall asleep quite late and arise late. No matter. I was still one of the first to arise. I fed Tango, made my coffee and then we walked along the river across the tidal lands, and the through town. The town was littered with a few cigarette butts, empty beer cans, snack wrappers and other evidence of last night’s party. Still, a sense of peace and contentment floated on the air.  When I saw the campground lady, I paid up for another night. Why not, more music tonight and Tango seems to love this place as much as I do. 

One lesson on this trip is the importance of people. Even for a loner like myself, I have too much alone time as I travel. Isolation is okay for a time but it must be followed by time with people. Stops like this one in Hope, AK recharges my people battery. The following is a mish-mash of photos from the web. I will eventually upload my own!