The seaside village of Hope has a small but comprehensive library. A few of us stopped in to check out the Alaska history section and were instantly engaged by one of the volunteers. He not only shared his account number so we could borrow books, but talked about world and local politics, let us fill our water bottles, and even gave us some boxed wine. He also encouraged us to go to open mic that evening, where it turns out the host is a great jazz guitarist. So I had a couple beers and tried not to look at the twenty or so people in the bar while singing standards and party band covers all night.
Being indoors in Hope was a nice respite from a classically cold, rainy, mosquitoey weekend. Krista, Luke, and I did some chores as quickly as possible in Anchorage (random drug test, finger post-op/stitches removal, and new car battery, respectively), then retreated to the woods beside Portage Glacier to skip rocks on the lagoon and cook decadent camp stove mac 'n' cheez. We tried to reach a second ice behemoth above Palmer Creek but were buffeted by what felt like 50 mph winds and alarming clouds of fog on the ridge top, and so returned to Hope for hot drinks and soup.
It's just about the middle of the season, and so many great hikes and books and desserts and birdsongs and winds beckon. Plans for fall travel also pervade my thoughts, with a confirmed spot on a hiking trek in Bhutan. You never know where you'll end up.
