We woke to gray and wet, the drizzle making the black streets shine. After a fine continental breakfast at the Best Western Plus (the Plus means it features more amenities, like a nice breakfast with omelets, waffles and sausage), we climbed into rain gear and headed out taking the side streets for a quick view of Seward. This quick tour happened throughout the tour, the adventure fitting into two categories; ride to the next place, spend one night, ride again, and the second to stop at visitor centers, museums and tourist traps, ride again. We don't sit still much. Fine with me.
I saw my shadow, twice today, a first. The weather vacillated between gray and cold to gray and rainy, so the sun was a brief, wonderful encounter.
We rode beneath huge mountains, their tops disappearing into the fog. Turning toward Homer, we skirted an ice cold mint green river teeming with fishermen, lined like soldiers. A fisherman described it as 'combat fishing.' The weather cooperated, the moisture managing to stay in the clouds. Soon we followed the coastline, the trees stunted with peekaboo views of the ocean, vacation cabins dotting the grassy landscape.
Homer hangs on the edge of the coastline, jutting into the water. We stopped for lunch at an organic bakery. I've learned that 'organic' means, 'we get to charge a lot more,' and charge they did. Two cups of hot chocolate and a cup of clam chowder, $18. I s'pose they were organic clams, however.
Once again we dressed for rain, as the sky looked daunting, yet we'd experienced minor skirmishes. Backtracking, we spotted the same fishermen. You'd think the fish would be wise to them.
We stopped at a viewpoint and Mel noted that Alaska does not provide rest areas as he headed off into the woods. When he returned, we both remarked how the weather hadn't hammered us like we expected.
Soon after starting, the skies opened and dumped rain on us, the oncoming trucks showering the bikes with spray. Worse, a side wind whipped at us, pushing us toward oncoming traffic. Wind is terrible as one cannot see it and adjust, so all adjustment are reactive.
We stopped for gas and a pit stop, taking twice as long to get prepared as our hands were too cold and stiff to work buttons and zippers. Finally the rain abated again, leaving it's mark with soaked boots, gloves and other edges. The wet wicks up one's pant legs, even though they hide behind rubber gear.
We found the motel, the same one from the first night, and checked in to the exact same room. Two fans run full speed, drying out clothes and shoes. But for a twenty mile section, the day was pretty darn good.