The Rise Up Ride: Day 100, Starting Towards Home from Homer
Date: 31 July 2021
Start Location: Homer Ferry Terminal, Alaska
End Location: Homer / Baycrest, Alaska
Distance: 17.6 km
Time: 1:31
Total elapsed: 5:09
Elevation: 264 m
The Homer Spit is an ancient glacial moraine, left by retreating ice and jutting just meters above high tide 8 km into the bay at the southwestern tip of the Kenai Peninsula. The road from the tip of the Spit into town is populated by an eclectic assortment of marine shops, bars, a campground, and an infrequently used ferry dock, appropriated by thousands of black-legged kittiwake during their nesting season. These gulls, who spend most of their lives foraging for pelagics at sea, build nests on steep cliffs (and uniquely on this dock at the end of the longest road out into the ocean in the world) from mid-June through August. The Tustumena's arrival and our disembarking in the middle of their colony's breeding ground set everyone not sitting on their clutch into a bother. (Kittiwakes bond in a monogamous pair and practice biparental care, carefully building a cozy mud and grass-lined nest and sharing time incubating one-three eggs during 27 days.) We rolled our bicycles into a swirling maelstrom of gulls, falling white globs of bird crap, and the no-nonsense business of safely unloading vehicles onto and off a vehicle elevator and across a ramp to the dock
I used "we" because for the first time riding the coastal ferries through Alaska I met some other touring cyclists. It was such a surprise to ride up to the dock to board the ferry to Homer and spy four fully-loaded mountain bikes leaned up against the railing. Genevieve, Joshua and their three girls, Liebe, Jazz and Tuulaluu are the most amazing Alaska family. They had just returned from a bikepacking adventure beyond the end of the pavement on Kodiak Island. Props to Joshua and Genevieve for managing heavy loads and their youngest in her seat over the front wheel, but each of the other kids schlepped their own gear as well. Watching these curious, adventurous girls muscle their rigs onto the vehicle elevator gave me insight into the Alaskan ethic and confidence that produces young women like Lael Wilcox, the petite but indomitable ultra-distance cyclist. Rise Up.
After a never-dark "night" on the ferry we all disembarked into Tippi Hedren-hell. Not having read the restaurant sign carefully, I had shown up at 7:35 last night for dinner, just five minutes after closing. As my food bag was below deck and I didn't have change for the machines, I pedaled off in the morning ravished and in search of the first place with breakfast burritos on The Spit.
Once again I return to one of the recurring themes of this adventure, and one that I may write about apres-ride while tying up the insights: there is a winnowing effect that deposits some of the most interesting people out on the edges of existence. Whether at the top of a peak, the end of the pavement, leaning over the railing of a coastal ferry in a fjord, or in this case out at the end of an ancient glacial remnant at the entrance to Cook Inlet at the tip of the Kenai Peninsula in Alaska, you are more likely to encounter the enlightened iconoclast.
The Breakfast Burrito with Kirsten's green chili sauce at la baleine café is exquisite! The fully-loaded Seven always attracts attention and conversations, and the occasional request for help with sidewalk wrenching of other bicycles. Kat Haber, a colorful Alaskan climate activist wearing a "Snopes" cap, bounded up to ask if I had a pump for her bike. She'd driven off with her bike to take advantage of the glorious weather but hadn't checked it since the last ride, "sometime last year or the year before." Kat organizes Ted events and splits her time between here and Vail, working to halt climate change. She was great breakfast company while she pumped her tires and with some of my chain lube tried to get her neglected chain freed up enough for a day's promenade up and down the moraine.
After some shopping in town, I rode about 10 km outside of Homer to a KOA for DOFF (day off) stuff, like a shower, laundry, and pannier organization. Tomorrow I don't know where I'm headed, although it should be someplace about 100 km in the direction of Seward on the Sterling Highway along the edge of the Kenai Peninsula. No reservations, no destination but I'm throwing myself out there, sure in the belief that something interesting may happen. The ride home through Alaska begins tomorrow.
