It seems that a trail always finds me (or perhaps that I always find a trail). This one was flat, flat, flat, unlike our last one, Purisima Creek Redwoods Open Space Preserve (https://johnpavolotsky.com/2023/09/10/purisima-septiembre-2023/). Consider this Anchorage’s version of the San Francisco Bay Trail (https://johnpavolotsky.com/2023/01/02/the-san-francisco-bay-trail/), but with Chugatch State Park to the east, Cook Inlet, and beyond that, the Kenai Peninsula to the southwest, and the Alaska Range to the northwest. Yes, Flattop Mountain, a short Uber ride from my hotel, would have been more challenging, but with 48 hours in Anchorage, I simply did not have the time. Unfinished business, for an avid hiker.
The Coastal Trail is eleven miles long, from downtown Anchorage to Kincaid Park. No bears sighted. Same for moose, although there was a brief encounter elsewhere, as evidenced below. Late September, perfect weather, fifty degrees, no wind, clear skies, in sharp contrast to the dreary, and particularly wet, summer, water as far as the eye can see, snow covered peaks across the water, and behind you as well, a setting as unreal as any I have experienced. Maybe Norway (https://johnpavolotsky.com/2021/08/05/one-week-in-norway/), but on a bigger and grander scale. Plus, birch trees, in their golden splendor, reminding me of where I was born. Pelmeni, potato, my favorite filling, helped the cause. No sour cream, sorry.
In Alaska, I have been told to expect the unexpected. Usually, that means weather, or bears, or moose, or other natural (and unnatural) surprises. I had bought a few gifts, including a hat and socks (with moose, of course), but nothing for myself. As I was walking to my gate, I passed a local bookstore, and a book signing. I spoke with the author, a humorist outdoorsman, or an outdoorsman humorist, I cannot recall. The book, below, described the author’s (mis)adventures in the Alaskan wilderness. 60,000 copies sold, I was told. As an avid hiker, I was intrigued. I had the book signed and bought it. After reviewing a few documents, I opened the book, 35,000 feet above the Gulf of Alaska, glassy and glistening, read a page or two, and chuckled. For now, I will need to live vicariously, through these (mis)adventures. Surely, I need to return, but probably not before the spring.
Comments welcomed.
The Peninsula Hiking Club 