Friday, August 29th, 1997

Day 9: Homer to Denali Area

I crawl out of the truck into the sunny morning air around 9:30 and get a shower.  Back at the truck, I pull all of our loose bags out of the back in preparation for a little reorganization that will hopefully cut down on the amount of stuff floating around.  I like to be on top of things; keep straightening up, cleaning out the cab, repacking as we go.  Consumption of food and acquisition of gifts, along with the migration of clothing from clean to dirty bags, causes a slow but constant evolution of our cargo.  I prefer to occasionally get back on top of it, instead of letting more and more pockets of free space open up under the platform, while shifting more and more loose baggage around when going to sleep or accessing the storage area.

The shop that rebuilt the truck's gearbox earlier this year filled it with very light oil, and I am concerned that the long hours we are putting in are overheating it.  This could explain the rash of new rattles and growls coming from that area.  Unfortunately I don't have a wrench or socket to fit the large fill plug, and my adjustable wrench slips when I really torque on it.  I am able to hammer an exhaust clamp back into place, so the awkward trip under the truck isn't a total waste.

We finally roll out.  After a quick stop at the Rainbow Wok to say goodbye, thanks, and to get a few drinks, we drive up the spit and park in the heart of the gift shop area (photo above).  We wander around for about an hour, and again I spend way too much- truly going overboard when I buy a beautiful carving of a whale by an Alaskan artist up in Palmer.  Our next stop is downtown Homer, where we get a warm lunch at McDonald's and do some figuring with the maps and calculator.  We estimate the drive-home time from various points, and decide that we do have time to head up towards Denali.

The next stop is Napa, where Greg comes out from behind the counter to fit us with a new battery.  Unfortunately, in the process of removing the negative terminal clamp, I shear the nut off of the corroded tightening bolt.  Greg assures me that the clamp won't budge once hammered onto the new post, however, so after a brief goodbye we are on our way.  We only make it about a mile this time, stopping at the Pratt museum on the outskirts of Homer that Greg has recommended we see.  It turns out to be money and time well spent.  The small contemporary structure is full of kayak and fishing-boat models, stuffed sea animals, and an unforgettable display about the Exxon Valdez oil spill.

We are finally on the road out of Homer by about 3:30.  It is a fairly uneventful trip up to Anchorage except for a brief stop in Soldotna to make a few phone calls home.  Further north, we detour away from the highway down a twisting road and wander around Glacier Lake for a while.  The small icebergs floating in the dark water seem to glow from within.  They radiate an amazingly vibrant blue color from deep inside (photo left).  Must be due to the minerals trapped in the glacier ice from which they are calved.  We walk down to the water's edge and I immediately pick up a small chunk of clear ice and bite off a piece.  I hand it to Sean and he partakes also.  It seems like the most natural thing in the world at the time.

We pick our way impatiently through the pervasive construction south of Anchorage, and finally make it back up to the junction with Hwy 3 north towards Fairbanks.  Sean is driving as it begins to rain- light at first but increasing as the sun sets over the dismal grey forest.  Visibility is still poor as we reach Denali State Park and the rains let up.  We speculate that the huge dark humps to the west are breathtaking mountains, but we really can't be sure.  It is pitch black when we get tired of moving and Sean finds a nice dirt side-road that leads down a hill about a quarter-mile into the dense forest.  We park in a circular clearing full of gravel, and step out into the dark, wet night.  Rain gear is excavated from the rear and we cook ourselves a pretty filling meal of hot Raman noodles.

While cleaning up, Sean abruptly stops what he's doing and calls my attention to a strong animal smell that is drifting through our camp.  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I inhale the large-animal odor.  Suddenly the forest is very close and very hostile.  The darkness overwhelms our flashlight, and I experience an animalistic fear that recalls childhood panic in dark barns and basements.

Before going to sleep I make sure that the latch is loose on the window between our bed and the truck cab.  That way we can motor out of here in a hurry without having to step foot outside.

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