Day 52 Anchorage to Seward to Homer. 327 miles
"The virtue lies in the struggle, not in the prize.
~Richard Monckton Milnes
Once again I overdid it. Without Quilter Girl to talk sense to me, I just bite off more than I can chew and ride until... certain parts of me are very sore.
I left the dump motel and rode about ten miles and stopped for fuel. No credit card. And no license! I must not have gotten them back from the drug deal-I mean, clerk, last night! I hurried back with thoughts of what my card purchased in my absence.
I told the clerk my problem. He said, "Do you want your deposit?" I said no, and repeated I lost my Visa and driver's license. "What room?" I said 120. He typed away on the computer and finally said, "Do you want your deposit?" for the third time I repeated my need. Then I said look in the copier. He opened the top and there they were. Even better, since now I knew no one used it. I was just waiting for him to ask me about my deposit again. This is your brain on drugs.
I motored down to Seward with another feast for the eyes, as the highway followed Cook Inlet with mountains edging the water. Again, fuzzy green along the bottom with black and white above, but certainly not mundane.
Soon the road turned inland, with occasional mountains of snow remaining from a winter of avalanches. The slides they followed extend upwards for hundreds of feet.
Many towns give away their main commerce with smell. A pulp mill town for example, a farm town or a stockyard let people know where their bread is buttered with its smell. Seward lets one know it is fish. Tourists too. What do tourists smell like? Waffle cones, pizza and frying fish.
On impulse I cruised to the Kenai Fjords National Park and hiked up to Exit Glacier. How long did it take the marketing team to come up with that name? What a huge chunk of ice, grinding down the rocks and smoothing them over as it deposits tons of rock and silt into the water.
I met Ron at a gas stop in Seward. He's been around the West a lot, and is settling down here. Says it's sort of a spiritual pilgrimage. Looking at the landscape, I see God.
Seward accommodates the cruise ships too. Huge docks reserve parking stall for the mega boats to drop off people for land packages-kayaking, fishing, even an 'Ididaride'
dog sled ride. The sleds skid over the grass with barking dogs pulling it and having fun.
Fired up the scooter and rode to Homer.
The ride to Homer is almost all through stunted spruce forest with groves of birch trees mixing it up a bit. Homer appears to be more bedroom community with the fishing and tourism tossed in for fun.
Due to poor-make that no planning-I rode for twelve hours today, with breaks for meals, fuel and fun. Nonetheless, a long day.