After winding our way out of the simple and small metropolis we finally were on our way to the Kenai Peninsula. Our tour was really just beginning. About 15 miles out of Anchorage on the opposite side of the scenic Turnigan Arm I spotted a few, what appeared to be patches of snow on the cliff lined highway. Upon closer examination we discovered they were lounging Dall Sheep. They were hard to see from that distance so we pulled out the binoculars and studied the still life. Whoa! Wait a minute, one moved. We watched it for a few more minutes and then moved down the road a few hundred more feet; yes - more of them. This time they were moving and climbing. They are graceful and strong and it is an awesome experience to watch them scale sheer cliffs with ease, totally oblivious to their audience. My excitement was on the rise as I watched more and more of these “patches of snow” come to life. There is something exhilarating about observing wildlife in their native habitat.
We continued down the road being ever alert for more distractions. After just about passing the turn off to a wildlife refuge for injured, abandoned or orphaned animals we made a squealing turn into the entrance, paid our fee and continued the photo/video journal of our animal adventures. Although very easy to spot, these animals mostly wanted to sleep. We saw moose, caribou, Siberian wild boar, porcupine, bald eagle, black and brown bear clubs, muskox, elk, Sitka black tailed deer, a coyote and caged in a dog kennel was small red fox. He had buried himself so deep he was difficult to see except for two small eyes peering through the straw. It was apparent he was not accustom to the human touch and didn't want to experience it.
It was nice to observe them but it didn't have the flair of witnessing them in their natural state. I was glad there is a place for them and didn't regret paying money to support their cause, but they were so docile and passive it would be hard to categorize them as “wild”. Later, as we went to the marine life museum in Seward and I discovered from my readings that studying injured or abandoned animals has a tremendous benefit on understanding their development and migratory patterns. That furthers the cause of saving an endangered species along with helping preserve their homes and their existence.
Across the highway we traveled down another side road to our daily destination. Portage glacier. As with all good things, there must be some disappointment. The glacier itself had receded much from what my childhood memories had recorded and information boards confirmed my memories. It had retreated back. It used to stretch clear down to Portage Lake. A lake choked with icebergs. They were small icebergs, but icebergs none the less and lots of them. Not to let a closed visitor center or a seasonal cruise that had not yet started, deter us from enjoying our stop we did see another ice field that in my mind dwarfed Portage. Maybe it was just because I didn't get to ride the boat up next to Portage glacier, but this ice field was far more magnificent. It draped the canyon walls and was a beautiful site. Pristine lakes, rivers and mountains surrounded us at every turn. Even our most disappointing site was a pleasure to behold.
I had returned to Alaska once- years ago- for a brief stint. Having been a Flight Attendant for several years I retired before my thirtieth birthday and wanted to use my airline travel benefits before they expired. I needed to go home. But with three small children who I needed to leave with family, and a short supply of money, I didn't feel I could be gone long so I looked up an old friend, called her and found I was still very welcome, even after 18 years. Then I caught a flight to Kenai.
On that particular trip I flew into Anchorage on a large jet designed to fly high, too high to see much of anything. Thus, I was anxious for the flight into Kenai. It was a smaller plane and flew much closer to the ground, but I was concerned that because of the time of day I would not be able to see much. I guess I didn't remember as much about Alaska as I would have liked. On June 21, 1992 the sun really doesn't set and although it was 10:00 pm, the view was perfect. What a treasure.
The feeling of returning home on my present trip becomes stronger and stronger. I feel like a salmon on their return journey home. Although not a native born Alaskan, I know my heart and the old adage that “home is where the heart is” proved true. My heart is here. Now that I am home, I don't want to go “Outside” again. The calm, peaceful feelings that the splendor of Alaska brings tugged at my heart strings. The pull is strong. Stay home. What is on the Outside? How could anything compare. Scenery may compare, but nothing touches the emotional state I am experiencing; content, peaceful, and calm.
