After leaving the cocoon of Coldfoot and grouchily (me) reentering society, Abby and I skied our hearts out with the help of two lovely ladies in Denali. We also enjoyed the benevolence of local skiers in Homer, who maintain miles of trails atop the hills overlooking the Cook Inlet and peaks all around. After lots of sightseeing and driving, I felt gratitude beyond expression to relax in Seward with (Shuttle) Josh and (Baker) Karen. We hiked in the sun and had a bonfire in the not-sun and talked and ate good things.
So why would I leave such paradise? What could possibly draw me back to moderate latitudes? There is a tired person currently muddling through a layover in L.A. after flying from that other paradise, New Zealand, making his way eventually to western Colorado. And I need to pile some of my stuff in a car and meet him there for an incredibly long and long-awaited hug.
The Caines Head trail is mostly ice, so there was a lot of butt-scooting to get down to the beach.
Whittier is accessible through a tunnel shared by the train and cars; the train couldn't make it through all the snow and we thought we might be trapped, which would've been ok if everything weren't closed.
Abby + old concrete + Seward sunset
