Hawaii – Day 5

Our last day on O’ahu greets us with a double rainbow.

We were up early for the sunrise and a walk in the surf. We can’t quite see the sun yet, but its reflection off the hotel glistens on the water, and soon, we, too, will emerge from the shadows. Along with the light, our hunger arrives, dragging us towards Sunset Beach with a stop at the farm stand we’ve been visiting nearly every day to stock up on pineapple and coconut to accompany our bananas: the breakfast of paradise.

Maybe the Pipeline Surf Championship is over because there are hardly any cars here this morning, and it looks like the stands are being taken down. With this abundance of parking, we stop for a while to check out those who are out on these pristine waters. These two guys above are on about their 10th attempt of getting on their boards at the right moment, getting close enough to perform the trick they are attempting and make the leap to execute it.

Blam…..they nailed it and threw their hands in the air in celebration

While the guys were trying to surf two to a board, a young woman had paddled out with her bodyboard and proceeded to power shred these waves with some gnarly spins and serious strength on display. Two boys, maybe about eight years old, were the next to join the others out on the water. After paddling out, they proved their mettle and surfed the Pipeline like seasoned pros; those kids have sand!

Okay, enough of playing the observer; time to get back out there as we are prodded by the rain that comes rolling in. Oh yeah, we changed our mind about the drive west and have turned around to go south.

Where is the day going? It’s almost noon as we leave the Pali Highway to enter Honolulu, and wouldn’t you know it, it’s lunchtime, and we have an appetite. Where else would we go but back to Ono Hawaiian Foods Cafe, where we ate after we landed in Hawaii last Thursday, and seeing it’s Sunday we’ll just call this church.

Our feast consisted of poi, Portuguese sausage, salt meat, and watercress, along with some lau lau, which, as a reminder, is pork wrapped in taro leaf. Dessert was haupia with some extra haupia. I’ll explain: as we sat there stuffed and very satisfied at the end of this culinary orgy, the owner brought us another portion of haupia. We tried waving him off, explaining someone else had already delivered our haupia, to which he replied, “You’re doing just fine.” We shut up and ate up.

Honolulu has a traffic density that compares to the worst of Los Angeles. It took us one hour to drive less than 10 miles, and when we arrived at our destination, it was raining hard. So it goes regarding the rain, though, as it has rained off and on every day we’ve been here. Once parked in a garage, we quickly pay for our entry into Iolani Palace, home of the last of the Hawaiian monarchy.

What a giant tragic mess this building represents. On one hand, it was the royal home after its completion in 1882, but within about a dozen years, it became the prison of Queen Lili’uokalani, who was the last monarch to ever oversee the islands. Contact with the West proved fatal for Hawaiian autonomy. The laying of the cornerstone of this building and convincing Hawaiian rulers they would be taken more seriously if they could entertain dignitaries in a palace was likely a ruse to start gaining the trust of those in government.

With America becoming entrenched in the affairs of the islands, it was likely already well thought out that when those loyal to the U.S. mainland made their move against the monarchy, the troops would move in from offshore to raise the American flag. From that point forward, it was only a matter of time before this territory would become a state, and the Hawaiian people would lose their lands.

Now, we are supposed to visit this palace and marvel at the modern Western-centric monarchy that is being romanticized into something that only happened due to them allowing us onshore. America’s history is, in large part, built on the displacement of native peoples from both their lands and culture. Shortly before Hawaii fell fully into American hands, the Dawes Act of 1887 authorized the federal government to break up reservations in an effort to bring Native Americans into mainstream U.S. society in order to assimilate them and destroy their cultural and social traditions. For over 100 years, right up until 2007, we were still forcing Native American children into boarding schools in the continuing effort to “Kill the Indian to save the man.” This policy didn’t have so much to do with the fact that they were Indians, but that the ruling dominant culture saw them as indigenous primitives it could equate with animals, just as we appeared to be doing with Hawaiians.

You can visit every room in the palace and never feel that you’ve seen anything of Hawaiian origin or culture. We visitors to Hawaii then fool ourselves into believing that a visit to a beach, snorkeling, attending a luau at a resort, or donning a lei put on us by a Hawaiian at the airport upon our arrival is immersing us in Hawaiian culture. We are idiots buying a fantasy TV version of reality that has been candy-coated. Don’t get me wrong, I love the scenery and the tropical paradise of this environment, but whatever Hawaii once was is mostly gone now, and it’s a tragedy.

This is not the face of Hawaii; it is the facade of domination and conquest. It is effectively a grave.

O’ahu has proven to be educational, romantic, beautiful, and mostly fun. The conflict that exists within me regards the misconceptions that are allowed and encouraged to remain dominant is why I have to qualify that this has been “mostly” fun. It would be far too callous to dance on the graves of a culture and never pay respect to what one’s ancestors had to pay in order to just survive. Yet here I am today, trying to reconcile within myself how I can wear a smile knowing the truth.

Grilled pineapple and jalapenos on a burger never tasted so good as they do here in Hawaii, so a third and final visit to the Kahuku Grill felt in order before returning to the hotel for a swim and some writing.

Hawaii – Day 4

Up with an alarm and gone from the North Shore by 6:15 as we were heading back towards Honolulu for an 8:30 reservation. Should have visited Kalaupapa National Historic Park on Molokai back when we visited that island in 2006; then, after today, we would have visited all of the major National Parks in the Hawaiian islands. We are going to Pearl Harbor which is referred to officially as the World War II Valor in the Pacific National Monument. I suppose it’s okay that there are things that will be left undone out here in the middle of the Pacific that can draw us back for a third visit. So besides the former leper colony on Molokai, we still have to visit Lanai, hike the Kalalau Trail on the Napali Coast, swim with sea turtles (not really all that important), and go to an official luau at a resort – never mind, there is NO way we will ever do that – EVER!

Before venturing further, Caroline has to stop at the information desk to collect her Junior Ranger booklet and get busy identifying what she needs to accomplish to be sworn in later as a Junior Ranger.

The USS Arizona, a pre-World War I “super-dreadnought” battleship destroyed during World War II, is the main attraction here at the memorial. At the time the ship was built, Arizona had just become the 48th state of America, hence the commemoration.

As anyone who is interested in visiting Pearl Harbor already likely knows, there’s a short naval boat ride out to the USS Arizona Memorial and the most iconic site here.

Almost 71 years to the day after the Japanese bombed this port and sank the USS Arizona, the oil still leaking from below is evident. In contrast to the tragedy, it is quite beautiful on the surface of the water.

Fortunately, the visitors to this solemn place are acting accordingly and showing the respect that should always be afforded to locations where an act of barbarism took so many lives. This sense of physical presence of the tragedy is reminiscent of feelings had while visiting Dachau, Manzanar Japanese Internment Camp, Custer’s Last Stand, Gettysburg, and the Eastern State Penitentiary in Philadelphia.

Usually, the place of a human death doesn’t immediately become a memorial. The evidence is removed from the place where it happened, as human remains are taken to a cemetery or to cremation. Here, we must confront that the rusting hulk of a vessel just below us still holds the remains of over 950 soldiers who died aboard this craft. They were not able to be brought by a family member to a proper resting place, but then again, what is more appropriate than using the site of a grievous act of war as a reminder of our transgressions that take so many lives?

A place of contrasts where the beauty of Hawaii is also the site of the beginning of America’s entering World War II, a harbor where the tropical setting of palm trees and the ocean is also the setting for a mass grave, where dark clouds loom over paradise.

We see so little of the battleship standing out of the water, it’s difficult to imagine that there is so much ship just below us, but this model demonstrates the scale of what is just out of sight.

The museum back on the mainland has a great exhibit that goes into the details surrounding that fateful day. This piece of heavy steel shows what the force of the bombs was doing as they unceremoniously shredded into reality and tore at the fabric of our sense of peace.

Like all National Park facilities, there’s a Junior Ranger program for those interested in learning more about the history and importance of a location while gaining a better understanding of being a steward of America’s most important lands and facilities. Caroline is collecting yet another nearly perfect score as she does her best in our rather brief visits to finish not just the requirements for becoming a Junior Ranger but to do all of the exercises and learn just a little bit more.

We left Pearl Harbor now hungry as our breakfast of bananas and pineapple was wearing thin. I’d already scoped that the Highway Inn might be a lunchtime winner, so we headed over to Waipahu and, in an unassuming strip mall, started our wait. Twenty minutes later, we had a small table and were trying to figure out what to eat. Considering this might be the first and last chance to ever visit this eatery, we got indulgent and started with an appetizer of Kahlua pork and purple yam in a quesadilla topped with mango salsa. Already, the meal was super yum squared. Next up was the laulau combo with pork and a side of squid lū’au. Determined to gain a wide sampling of their dishes, we ordered some of the made-to-order tako poke. In case you don’t know, or if Caroline is reading this to me when I’m old and in the throes of dementia, tako is the Japanese word for octopus. This dish is served with a creamy wasabi sauce, onion, and ginger miso, and it alone should have qualified the Highway Inn as great, but there was more. Haupia, oh my god, this was the greatest haupia we’ve yet had! And while it is just coconut pudding, it was the best coconut pudding.

Seeing that we were already in the Honolulu area, we decided to head over to the Bishop Museum, where Hawaiian and Polynesian history is on display. Our introduction to the facility was right here in the main hall and while difficult to see down on the ground floor, there was a men’s choir singing Hawaiian songs and lending a terrific start to our visit.

Our brief concert was followed by this gentleman giving a talk about clothing and feathers of which the exact details escape me as I’m trying to write about the day.

Along the way, we encounter a story that speculates that it may have been a group of people from Southeast China that had ventured away from the mainland and went on to discover and populate the Polynesian Islands before embarking on the journey over the ocean to populate the Hawaiian Islands. Funny how, growing up in America, I learned nearly nothing about the rich history of anyone else on Earth other than those we conquered.

Stone and wood tools were common in Hawaii, as there were no early steelworks. Wood has a difficult time surviving the centuries, but there are plenty of stone artifacts here at the Bishop. This particular tool was used for mashing foodstuffs, particularly taro, for the making of poi.

This urn with embedded human teeth is so interesting that I wish I’d photographed the card that explained its utility or symbolic meaning. So without that, I can only present you with an urn of teeth, not something I’ve ever seen in another museum or at any friend’s house.

Weavings in the form of mats, basketry, and cloth are represented well in the museum with great examples.

This is Kapa, as it is known in Hawaii; in the broader Pacific Islands, it is more widely known as tapa. Tapa, depending on how it’s prepared, can act as a cloth or be used as paper. It is often made of mulberry or breadfruit bark and was a common form of clothing before the introduction of cotton.

Lei Niho Palaoa, which is Hawaiian for a necklace of hair and whale ivory, is on display here. The hair was from a person of nobility and was diligently collected because it was thought to contain the power or “Mana” of the person it had belonged to. Interesting to see this mythology that there was strength and power represented by hair stretching from the Middle East to Native Americans to Polynesian culture, and it makes me wonder if the modern-day habit of keeping one’s hair cropped short and beard shaved clean isn’t a form of disempowerment.

The Ahu ʻula is a feathered cape made of hundreds of thousands of feathers that were delicately harvested a few at a time from living birds who were then set free to continue producing these valuable feathers. Why were they so important to early Hawaiians? Because the Ahu ʻula was worn by people of great power to provide spiritual protection. Seeing these in person is nearly as extraordinary as seeing the Grand Canyon with one’s own eyes; they are spectacular, profound even.

Masks of tattooed wooden figures are common among the Pacific Islanders, and as part of the culture and tradition of these areas, they are featured in the museum to help tell the story of customs and art shared across such a vast region.

So, while we are a bit gun-shy and apprehensive about the tourist zones of Honolulu, Waikiki, and Diamond Head, we slowly warm up to their appeal, but probably more due to our interest in the history of Hawaii found here rather than the consumer and tourist culture. While still in the area with time to spare, we’ll continue on our exploration that started today in the southwest and trek up the western shore of O’ahu.

Our destination up Highway 93 is Kaʻena Point State Park. Wouldn’t you just know it, the side of the island that is a predominantly indigenous area would be the desert side?

Compared to the North Shore, the ocean here is calm, with almost no surf.

With about two hours of driving to return to our lodging at Turtle Bay, we scope the area here on the western shore and quickly turn around to head back. On the other side of the island, we encounter a steady rain that is dimming our hopes for another spectacular sunset. No big deal, really, as we are having a perfect time with whatever comes our way. After a mediocre dinner, we arrived again at the hotel to a blustery, occasionally rainy evening that suggested we head to sleep early. But who goes to sleep at 9:00 p.m.? Old people, that’s who, are we old now? Maybe it’s that we’ve been going for over 15 constant hours? Nah, we’re just getting old.

Oregon Coast – Day 4

A yurt at Sunset Bay State Park in Oregon

We are inching ever closer to something akin to hibernation; what else should we call over 10 hours of sleep? I’d like to call it luxury living in yurts! Out of the cocoon, we slink off to the toilet hut; a hint of blue sky sits behind the cloud cover. Got breakfast made just in time for a light rain to start falling. Oops, spoke to soon. Big drops are starting to hit the yurt, and in moments, we are being pummeled. Caroline knits while I write. We sip our coffee and stay snug and cozy here at Sunset Bay on the Oregon coast.

hing on the rocks at Shore Acres State Park in Oregon

With a break in the rain, we use the opportunity to fill the car with our gear and hit the road. Just when we think we’ve seen the entirety of the coast, a turn in the road proves that we, in fact, have missed something. This time, it is Shore Acres; once home to a wealthy industrialist, it is now a state park. Great location this man chose for his oceanfront home, too. Tilted sandstone with fossilized blobs juts out of the ocean below the cliffside. We head for the observation deck that marks the spot where Mr. Louis J. Simpson’s mansion once stood; it burned down twice. Following the Great Depression and Mr. Simpson’s fortune dwindling, he donated the property to the state – lucky us.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Shore Acres State Park in Oregon

Inside the enclosed observation deck are displays that show what sunny weather visitors might see out on Simpson Reef and the ocean that was once his front yard. Those fossilized blobs are concretions; rocks that formed within the sediment that likely had been collecting around the organic matter. Seals, sea lions, ospreys, cormorants, pelicans, and black oystercatchers are just a few of the species of wildlife living down on the reef, which is a part of the Oregon Islands National Wildlife Refuge. The big visitors are the gray whales that pass by, though they don’t usually arrive until December on their southerly travels and then again between March and April as they head north with calves in tow.

Unger's Bay Fish-N-Chips at Winchester Bay, Oregon

Up the road a bit, we round the corner overlooking Cape Arago. We don’t linger very long as the wind is whipping against us hard. Another road leads us to South Jetty and Bastendorf Beach, while the next turn takes us to Eel Lake and Tugman State Park, another park with a great selection of yurts. A few more miles and we are in Winchester Bay with a sun that is trying to poke through the gloom. We spot the roof for Unger’s Bay Fish-N-Chips and set our taste buds on drool, wouldn’t you know it, they were closed. I have a vague memory that this is a deja vu from another trip. Remember that Unger’s is closed Monday through Wednesday. Across the way is a cluster of restaurants; we see a sign for Griffs. Turns out that this was the original. No longer owned by the same people, their red snapper is undeniably super yum. Caroline toasts her beer made in Deschutes called Mirror Pond Pale Ale to the Sun, which is making more frequent appearances.

The Oregon coast as the sky clears from a heavy fall storm

Our intention was to drive through Florence, but it is one of those coastal towns big enough to feature a Dutch Brothers, which sounds great after a lethargy-inducing lunch. Not quite out of Florence, we are forced to pull over at another of those “stop sign” shops where a dealer of yarn beckons us. This one is called Happy Kamper Yarn Barn and is on the north side of town. One of the big motivators for stopping at these shops is that the yarns become projects that become souvenirs from the locations where they were picked up. Those objects then take us back on our journeys when, at other times (most likely traveling), we reminisce about how this scarf, hat, or pair of gloves came from the yarn we picked up in town so and so back when we were in Maine, Oregon, Hawaii, or Florida. This way, our souvenirs no longer take up shelf space and grow dusty; they are worn as reminders of how lucky we are to be able to visit so many places. With the sun still pouring down on us we ponder visiting Heceta Head Lighthouse but opt instead for a walk on the beach, our first in the three days we’ve been up here.

The sun getting low in the sky as it competes with the clouds over a beach on the Oregon coast

The sun pushes us to drive on and skip our intended campground at Carl Washburne State Park. We’ll go where the road takes us. Beachside State Park is closed for the season, maybe the next park. First, though, we’ll have to walk along another beach.

Sunset at South Beach State Park near Newport, Oregon

Just outside of Newport, South Beach State Park has space available; they even have yurts for rent. Lazy, here we come. To heck with pitching the tent, we’ll take another night of indulgence. The clouds are starting to move in, but not before the sun attempts an encore performance and tries to stay ahead of the clouds that threaten to blot it out. We couldn’t have asked for a better day, and all we had to do to earn it was endure a few days of weather that added its own character to our week-long stay on the coast.

The Ultimate Monster Burger from the Newport Cafe in Newport, Oregon

Dinner, if you can call this exorbitance, is served at the Newport Cafe in Newport, Oregon. Yelp said that lots of people like the place, we’ll go with that. Famous for their large portions, the burgers come highly recommended. No wonder. We compromised and ordered the Ultimate Monster Burger for only $13.95 as opposed to the heftier 8-pound version called the Super Ultimate Monster Burger for $26.95; ours was only 4 pounds of burger. When the beast arrives, our eyes grow as large as what’s on the plate – this is crazy big. The table next to us lets out a gasp, muffling our own. As it hits the table, we are all smiles until the thud has us utter an “Oh my god!” This burger is amazing, not just its novelty, it is truly a great burger. This thing is piled high with grilled onions, ham, fried eggs, cheddar cheese, pickles, lettuce, and maybe a few other things. Amazingly, we finished it, not that this was anything special. That honor goes to the youngest person to finish their very own, a 12-year-old girl who finished one of these by herself! We are told that no one individual has ever finished the 8-pounder, so the challenge is on. This thing was so good we talked about coming back in the morning for another, and we would have if we weren’t worried about death making an appearance if we had. One more important note, the Newport Cafe is open 24 hours a day.

Settled into our yurt. Dinner, though, was playing the fiddle of guilt; time to walk some of this off. With half a moon out and the first stars we’ve seen since leaving Arizona, we walked out into the dark for a stroll on the beach. Through the coastal forest and sand dunes to the beach, we lay our eyes upon the ocean glimmering in the moonlight. Thin low clouds are darting north, occasionally blotting out the moon, but only for moments. I wonder out loud about how early humans might have seen this world back when few people inhabited these lands and the earth was infinite. The pressure put on our species by self-awareness has had impacts that few can comprehend. Maybe the abandonment of our awareness of the infinite is what keeps us from enlightenment that would be difficult or impossible to attain by the superstitious. At what point in our evolution will the masses be ready to perceive what we know about the complexity of life? Gods are easy, atoms from here to infinity that self-organize to create matter and intelligence; now that’s hard. Will there be a moment when destiny dictates that we come to terms with that? What if we fail? What other species might arise that would be better suited to pick up the ashes of learning to deal with our place in the infinite?

We then walk back to camp. There is hope that tomorrow brings more clearing skies, but how do we tackle clearing minds of fear and hostility when cadres of people specialize in mongering the halting of our march forward? Where are humanity’s lighthouses on this dark shore as our intelligence extends beyond the night it has lived in for millennia?

Stay In The Magic – My Book

After two years of soul searching hard work, I am happy to announce the availability of my first book: Stay In The Magic – A Voyage Into The Beauty Of The Grand Canyon. Starting in October 2010, Caroline and I embarked on an 18-day rafting trip down the Colorado River, following that journey into the amazing, I started to write a blog entry. Well, that blog entry never came about, it was getting far too long to post here. Instead, it became this book.

Stay In The Magic is printed in full color with over 300 photos I shot during those 18 days on the river, it is 8.5″x11″ in size and 306 pages long.

The book is available at Amazon by clicking this link: http://amzn.to/PHYvPH

You may also order it directly from me for $29.95 plus shipping – a 25% savings!




California Coast

Beach near Santa Barbara, California

Disclaimer of sorts, as with the first post from this Labor Day weekend in Los Angeles, this post wasn’t penned and pushed into the sunlight until the summer of 2023, 11 years after the events depicted took place. And so, without further ado, let’s jump into the sea. Once again, we awoke at the Wilshire Motel, except this time, we bolted north on Highway 101 because we had a date with a yarn store in Santa Barbara.

Caroline Wise on beach near Santa Barbara, California

Being who we are (meaning: John and Caroline, just to be clear), we were not going to drive by the ocean without stopping to admire where the sea meets the shore, gaze at how the sun is illuminating all of this, and hold out until we spot a bit of wildlife.

Beach near Santa Barbara, California

Well, these seagulls will do just fine for our wildlife encounter. Time to continue the trek north.

Backyard Bowls in Santa Barbara, California

This was not our first time to Backyard Bowls for breakfast here in Santa Barbara, not even our second or third. Looking for a fresh treat to start the day with a bunch of fruit atop acai or porridge? Then this place is for you. Note to Caroline, who will edit this before it’s published: Backyard Bowls now has locations in the Los Angeles area; just saying.

Santa Barbara, California

The beautiful hibiscus flower is also a tasty treat, especially when used in tea.

The Casa Covarrubias in Santa Barbara, California

We are visiting the Casa Covarrubias Adobe, built in 1817, which is now a historical landmark here in Santa Barbara, California. It’s also one of the oldest buildings from the earliest days when the city was just taking shape.

Loom at the Casa Covarrubias in Santa Barbara, California

If there are tools of the fiber trade, then you just know that Caroline would be looking for a photo, and this loom featuring some ancient parts fits that bill.

Casa Covarrubias in Santa Barbara, California

I can’t remember if we sampled the grapes growing here. I’d like to think I did, but I’m also fairly certain that Caroline would have reminded me that if everyone helped themselves, there’d be nothing left for photos of yummy grapes still on the vine glowing in the morning sun.

Casa Covarrubias in Santa Barbara, California

Just where the adobe gives way to the El Presidio de Santa Barbara State Historic Park is lost on me in long-forgotten memories, and I’m too lazy at the moment to tease them apart. I’m astonished at our good luck in visiting the Santa Barbara area mostly when the weather is stunningly perfect.

Courthouse in Santa Barbara, California

It’s a short walk over to the County Courthouse of Santa Barbara, another historic site.

Courthouse in Santa Barbara, California

This is the Mural Room; it was once the County Supervisors’ Assembly Room.

Courthouse in Santa Barbara, California

The courthouse opened in 1929 following a devastating earthquake; it would come to define the architectural style that Santa Barbara is known for.

Courthouse in Santa Barbara, California

View from the courthouse clock tower. Is there any wonder why Santa Barbara has become one of the greatest places to live in the United States?

Caroline Wise and John Wise visiting the Courthouse in Santa Barbara, California

If we were millionaires or willing to not have a life beyond a mortgage, we’d live here. Instead, we’ll have to satisfy ourselves that we can afford the luxury of frequent visits.

Arlington Theater in Santa Barbara, California

The Arlington Theater was built in 1931 and can seat 2,000 visitors, no wonder they host concerts here in addition to showing films.

Caroline Wise at Loop & Leaf in Santa Barbara, California

NO! Did someone assume because it’s the weekend that, the very reason for visiting Santa Barbara, the Loop & Leaf yarn and tea shop would be open? Sadly for my morose-faced wife, her opportunity to splurge on the only real luxury she shops for has been squashed.

La Super-Rica Taqueria in Santa Barbara, California

Nothing left to do but eat the blues away under a pretty blue sky. Based on a tip, we’ll endure the lengthy line here at La Super-Rica Taqueria because the food is that highly recommended. Was it worth it? With a super enthusiastic exclamation of Muy Rico! Yes, it was worth the wait.

Caroline Wise on beach near Santa Barbara, California

One more stop at the oceanside for a walk in the sand before continuing south as we’re staying one more night at the Wilshire Motel.

Mashti Malone's Ice Cream in Hollywood, California

Based on this image, we can be certain we had ice cream at Mashti Malone’s, but nothing else is known about the evening. Where’d we have dinner? Did we catch a movie, walk around Hollywood or Santa Monica? Nada is known, no photos, no notes, no nothing.

Last Day in Alaska

Caroline Wise at Oomingmak Shop in Anchorage, Alaska

It’s not always easy to know what’s important when it is so, and so it happened back in 2012 following a monumental experience that took us down the Alsek River out of the Yukon into British Columbia, and finally delivered us to Dry Bay, Alaska that all the important stuff was duly noted and extensively blogged about using near 30,000 words and just under 200 or so photos. Well, that was 11 years ago, and in looking back I realized that I neglected writing of our last, equally important day, of our first visit to this corner of the earth. Now in 2023, I’m going to try and repair that by including what I can about this day in the Anchorage, Alaska, area.

Had we done nothing else, Caroline required that we make a pilgrimage to the Oomingmak Co-Operative. This is possibly the only place on our entire planet where one can walk in and buy a handknit object created from a fiber known as qiviut, which comes from a rare northern creature called musk ox. The “Pack Ice” headband design Caroline is wearing will likely forever remain the most expensive small article of clothing she will ever buy at $130. And, as she reminds me, she chose the “discount option” because the yarn of this headband is 80% qiviut and 20% silk. No matter the expense, I’m certain Caroline will forever cherish this rarest of luxuries and how it will remain a part of her first experience in the wilds of Alaska.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

I’m barely into the narrative that accompanies these photos, but with the 21 images I’ve included here and then the realization that I only used about an average of a dozen photos per day in the original blog entries, I feel I need to return for further investigation of how I whittled nearly 5,500 photos down to the tiny number I shared. I do know a huge contributing factor to my possible lethargy in tackling more: I had just recently finished writing, editing, and publishing my seminal (and only) book titled Stay In The Magic about the Grand Canyon rafting adventure on which we had marked back at the end of 2010 prior to this Alaska trip and I’d had enough of venting my heart and mind. Looking at this railroad track, I’d like to try the corny, “That train has left the station,” but knowing me, I’ll revisit those directories of old photos and see if I might feel enticed to add a little something here and there.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

After two weeks in this environment, nothing had grown old. Every vista was spectacular and held an incredible amount of mystery as at best, we could only glimpse the tiniest of surface views regarding what the environment holds beyond the first glance.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

Our flight doesn’t depart until shortly after midnight, so we are driving somewhat aimlessly southeast until we know that we need to turn around.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

We are driving along the Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet, where the waters flowing out of Portage Lake head to the open sea.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

The telltale turquoise watercolor lets us know that a glacier is ahead.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

Oops, almost forgot to stop and smell the flowers, a lupine in this case.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

Looking across Portage Lake at a glaciated area. I don’t think this is part of the Portage Glacier.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

This was as close to Portage Glacier ice as we were going to get, the remnant of some broken-off ice that drifted across the lake.

Seward Highway thru the Chugach National Forest in Alaska

The road turned to the west, taking us past a bunch of lily ponds; if only we were present when the waters were still and reflected the surrounding mountains.

Kenai Peninsula in Alaska

This was the end of our exploration of the Seward Highway today. After reaching the Welcome to the Kenai Peninsula sign, we decided this should be the time to turn around, as reaching Seward or Homer was out of the question due to our limited time remaining in Alaska.

Caroline Wise at Turnagain Arm Pit on the Seward Highway in Alaska

Having a beer and BBQ at the Turnagain Arm BBQ in Indian, Alaska, on the Seward Highway because even if we had to stop for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Kool-Aid, this would still be one of the greatest stops for dinner ever. Does the sunlight have you thinking I meant lunch? Well, it was 7:00 p.m. when this photo was taken.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

We’ve stopped at the Potter Marsh area after spotting birds galore, and everyone knows that this is exactly the right number of birds to arrest our attention and force us from the car to inspect all of them.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

Unless you live in Alaska or some other northern clime, I’m guessing it’s not every day one sees a great black-backed gull chick.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

I’m calling it “Arctic Tern with Midnight Snack.”

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

I literally crawled on my belly, as monumental as it is, to approach this tern from a distance I would have never guessed possible.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

From this point, until we reach the airport, I’ve not been able to identify the park we visited, but who cares? Just take a moment to enjoy the warm sunset (9:15 p.m.) light illuminating the grasses in the woods.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

More flower-smelling time.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

Do you know what they call a daisy in Alaska? Daisy.

Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge in Alaska

And with this last late-day photo, we pointed the car towards the airport to catch our flight.

John Wise, Caroline Wise, and Daniel Billotte flying out of Alaska

We were seated and waiting for a couple of late arrivals, and as one of those stragglers was walking down the aisle, I nudged Caroline and told her that the guy approaching looked a lot like a guy we’d not seen in 5 or 10 years, Daniel Billotte. Of course, she said, “NO WAY!” So, as he started to pass us, I kind of blurted out Daniel under my breath, not directing exactly at him, but his head snapped; sure enough, it was Daniel. How on god’s green earth are we running into this guy on a midnight flight out of Alaska? I’d like to say stranger things have happened, and while this is up there in the unbelievable department, we’ve had our fair share of the No Way.