Homer Bound:

An Account of My Solo Travels to Homer, Alaska in a 1966 VW Westy Named Clara

September/October, 2009

Page 10: The Environs of Homer, and My Shenanigans Within ...

You probably know that I already have a house in Homer, as I mentioned it before. However, due to circumstances beyond our control, we found it impossible to move into this house before the winter, and as a result, ended up getting some renters who seemed quite happy to have it, as they were also new to the area, and had not yet had time to find a house before starting their new jobs. This all happened in the week before I started this trip, and it looked like they would arrive at the house before I got there! I decided not to change my flight schedule, as this would allow me to suffer (and recover from) hellacious breakdowns en route without having to worry overmuch about time. If I had to, I would be quite happy extending the trip and living out of the bus for a few days until my flight, leaving the bus in the garage on the last day. As it turned out, I made it to Homer with a week to spare, and a little perusal of Alaska Airline's website quickly told me that I would be spending all of that week in the area, as the cost of changing the flight would be more than the flight cost initially, and I might as well just take a vacation. OK!

After meeting our tenants and checking over the property a little bit, one of the first things I did was to drive up Ohlsen Mountain Road in the rain. Dodging both the potholes in the muddy road and locals zooming along it, I went all the way to the end, where Ohlsen Mountain Overlook provides a big open area for rampaging vehicles, as well as several jeep and ATV trails up and over the steep hills jutting up from the edges. Atop the highest of these hills, large concrete slabs still rest, with the earth underneath them largely eroded away so that they stick out into midair, trailing rebar. With all the trash, bullet-ridden cars and appliances, and the concrete remnants of the military lookout from the Cold War, the feel and look of the place was quintessentially post-apocalyptic. It's a good place to go if you need to drink beer with your buddies and use your ATV to perform drive-by bottle-shooting stunts after you're done killing your television. My only problem with it was that no-one ever cleaned things up, and this turned an overwhelmingly cool spot into something sad. However, I believe spots like this should exist for people to cut loose at, but there should be some sort of unwritten code of ethics that helps keep it from becoming a dump.

Usually, from this spot, you can look off into the distance in any direction, with incredible views of the volcanoes to the west and the bay to the south, eastward, Twitter Creek watershed with the Kenai Mountains beyond, and to the north, unspoiled territory, as far as the eye can see. Naturally, this day was one of the worst to be here, and I could see very little of any of it! I promised myself I'd come back up here when the weather was a bit nicer. Maybe I'd try one of those little trails in the bus, too ... they looked like they could be fun!

I poked around a bit for the rest of the evening, looking at things, driving on roads to see where they went, and just killing time, as I wasn't in the mood to go hang out with people, and I really just wanted to go back to my camping spot, have dinner, and curl up with the book I was enjoying, "The Milagro Beanfield War", which I recommend. It was dark by the time I got to my camping spot by the Anchor river, and I pulled into it, looking forward to the aforementioned relaxation. There was someone there! A Subaru was backed fully into the spot so that I could not see it until I was most of the way down the little road, and I'm sure they were very sorry for what they had done - taking my special spot! I doused my headlights so as not to bother them as I turned around in the little room that was left, but I'm sure they really enjoyed the sound of revving VW engine as I jockeyed the bus back and forth.

Back on the highway, disgruntled, I bumbled along in low third gear, looking for other possibilities. A few spots looked OK, but upon investigation proved occupied. What the blazes were all these people doing here in the off-season? It wasn't even moose season any more! No-one had ever challenged my for my other spot before, in August no less, and I did not see so many other people camping then either. I tried one more spot, a little road that I was only able to see because by now I was in second gear. Good thing there weren't many other people driving around that night! This little road looked promising at first, so I drove down off the highway toward the darkened forest. Just as soon as the trail leveled off, I saw a formidable puddle and muddy ruts in my path. This may not have been so bad, but I also noticed a gleam in the darkness beyond the trees. Then another gleam - this place was occupied! Anxious to avoid bothering anyone needlessly, I put the bus in reverse and promptly spun the tires. Uh-oh! I moved a little to another position and tried again. No good! Plus, I was slipping sideways toward a ditch. This was getting scary, and I was now working harder than I wanted to. I tried everything I could without getting out of the bus, and then gave up. I would have to brave the big puddle and the unknown quality (and quantity) of mud beyond. Hopefully I wouldn't slip sideways and bash the bus into the trees on either side. Worse, I could get stuck, and have to convince the sleeping campers to help me out, as I would have blocked their egress. I blasted through the puddle, slipped a bit, and then regained control as I opened the throttle up to eleven. Mud flying, engine screaming, I bounced and slithered through the remaining mud, where I came upon the higher and drier patch with the two campers - 4x4s with cabovers. Meekly and carefully, I turned around, and as I repeated the performance to get out, I realized how much fun I was having, and that I wished I could have captured it on video or something. The thought that I might suddenly lose my tranny never really crossed my mind during this, either. I just didn't want to get stuck and allow anyone to think that a Volkswagen bus was subordinate to a little mud!

I retreated in a mixture of glory and defeat. Glory because I was not stuck, but defeat in being banished to another spot I used the first night in Homer with the rental car ... right by the side of the road, with little to say for it except that it was a place to park that was almost private because of bushes and scraggly trees. This time, not being hampered by the lack of clearance, I manage to get further back, and settled in for the night.

The next day was cloudy and drippy when I got going, and it stayed that way through most of it. I didn't do too much, as I didn't really have to, and I was fine with that. I went back up to my house to unload the roof rack, investigated the prices at the Safeway, which is a really nice Safeway, as far as those go, then went out onto the Homer Spit to see an eagle (one of many), and then meandered back to the Anchor River to spend a lazy late afternoon. The clouds had cleared somewhat, and I was less angry at the people who had stolen my spot, even though they were still in it, and would remain so for the duration of my stay. The reason I was less angry at them was that I was able to find another spot on the river that was better anyway.

This spot was not really that hard to find, except that it didn't look like an access road in the dark. Because it was daylight, however, I saw that the road went somewhere, and followed it. There was a fifth-wheel trailer hidden behind a thicket of willows, but no-one was around. It was a little bumpy, as I was driving on river rock, but the ground was firm enough that I had no trouble whatsoever moving around. This turned out to be "my spot" for the rest of this visit, and only once was I ever intruded upon, and it was that very night. A couple rowdies in a Jeep were looking for some guy in a purple bus. They thought I might have been him. I wasn't. My bus was green and white, and not a school bus. I'm not sure what they were drinking, but I turned down their offers to share. I was busy with a bottle of fermented grape juice from down under, and I know better than to mix spirits. I didn't have any of what they were looking for, either.

I had with me a full suit of arctic gear, as the previous owner of the house had left it for me, but the renters didn't particularly want it taking up half the closet space. This night, as it had become clear, was quite cold, and I donned the apparel designed for serious winter, and found that it made me quite comfortably warm, if not a little on the bulky side. It mattered not. After I talked shared adventure stories over the phone with my brother, I read, looked at my pictures of the trip so far (again) and went through some emails so I could send them the next day. Then I tried to take pictures of the bus in the moonlight by the river, read some more, and finally went to sleep.



The price to pay for the sunlight that graced the next day was waking cold to more frost on the inside of the bus's windows than out! The clear nighttime sky left me with a morning temperature of 27 degrees. Hey, it could have been worse! I ruefully contemplated this as I scraped the crystalline stuff off the glass with a credit card. I'll have to remember to curb my exhalations from now on! I forbore having breakfast because I wanted to get a shot of the volcanoes across the inlet with the rays of the morning sun making them glow. Grumpily, the bus wobbled over the rocky riverbank, over the impromptu road, and onto the highway. I headed for Anchor Point beach, a drive of about seven minutes. Upon arrival, I was too chicken to drive onto the beach, as the sand looked awfully ... sandy, and I had no wish to get stuck on a beach in a rusty old bus with salt water splashing up around my undercarriage while the laconic fishermen who would undoubtedly be arriving soon chortled and guffawed at my predicament while they helped me extricate the bus. No, that's not what I wanted. It wasn't a good day for it anyway, as the sky was free of clouds, and the horizon too long - the mountains I came to see were not at their most photogenic this morning, and if you're going to get stuck, do it in a place that looks good in photos!

After the beach, I made for the overlook over Homer, where I knew there would be direct sunlight I could absorb as I ate breakfast. Instead of taking the main road, Sterling Highway, I took Old Sterling Highway, which is much more fun to drive, as it is smaller and more curvy. The warm sun at the overlook was just as I expected it to be, and I enjoyed it very much. Because of the uniqueness of my vehicle, I was noticed by one of my future neighbors, who had heard that I was driving up from California in a VW, and upon sighting me, came over to say hello. Breakfast over, I seized the day. Well, OK, it wasn't that dramatic or provocative, I just had to get on with it.

This was my last day with anything specific to do. I needed to buy a ladder and a section of chimney pipe for the house, and go up there and install it. It took longer to get the stuff than it did to clean the chimney and install the new pipe. I enjoyed standing on the roof of my home-to-be, looking around at the area, and thinking about all the little things that I get to take care of once we're all moved in. I had called my closest neighbor before coming up, and he stopped by to chat a bit before heading into town. I can tell I will enjoy the people around here ... the Homer Sapiens I have met so far are all friendly, capable, intelligent, and interesting folk. Some are a little weird, too. Of course, that's why I'm moving there!

I whiled away the day bopping around Homer, perusing various stores, many of which are all-inclusive. Where else but Alaska can you buy a bicycle and an air compressor at a grocery store, fishing tackle and electronics at a clothing store, and groceries at the hardware store? My explorations were given a bit of a perk by a cup of coffee from one of the many espresso shops around town. This day's brew was my all-time favorite, an exquisite roast by the Master Roaster at Captain's: Ethiopian Yergacheffe. The treatment the roaster gave this venerable bean resulted in the most delicious balance of flavours. However, they only had it available on random days, so I only got it twice during my stay. The other shops had good stuff, but nothing like the Yergacheffe! Since I had not been drinking coffee much these days, opting for the convenience and gentility of tea instead, these daily cups (usually taken in the afternoon) really got my motor running!

The rest of the afternoon was spent talking to a few people, walking on the beach, partaking of the conveniences at the combination showers/laundromat, and finally, as darkness (and cold!) descended, I went to Safeway to get a couple things. I was going to be quick, but ended up getting accosted by another of the many people who thought to talk to me because of the bus. Seems this thing I was driving around was the only one such in the area. There were a few other VWs, but they were mostly Vanagons. A few newer beetles and a baywindow was about it. People told me that it was the heaters - they couldn't stand up to the cold, and winter drivers opted for a bit more comfort, not to mention all-wheel-drive. At any rate, I finally got back to my Anchor River Hideout, and read, drank, ate, and shivered, as it was another cold, clear night.

The next day, also a cold, frosty morning, I went again to the overlook for sunshine and breakfast, and then to check out the Wildlife Refuge Center. This place was pretty amazing, and had lots of cool and informational displays that must have been a lot of fun to design and set up. Later, I went again to the hardware store for a couple things I had thought of, and back up to the house to apply them. Since I was in the vicinity, and the weather was cooperating, I took the bus back up Ohlsen Mountain Road where I had lunch at the top of a trail that went to nowhere. That place really isn't that much fun if you're alone, so I decided to go back to Homer and watch the weirdos and use the Internet via the town-wide WiFi. On my way, though, I spied a road that went up to the UFO landing slab. After a brief time deliberating about the wisdom of attempting a rough and steep hill climb, I went for it. I'm glad I did, as it got my heart rate up, and re-affirmed my confidence in the old bus. I should have shot some video, that's for sure. The photos don't really do it any justice at all. But I sat there, looking out over the edge, feeling like the king of the hill or something. Too bad I wasn't brave enough to get the bus closer to the edge! That would have made a better photograph, but I did not wish to upset the balance of the concrete slab I was on, as nearly half of it was sticking out into thin air!

By this time, the end of the eleventh day of the trip, I was finally relaxing into a simple "being here" mode but with nothing much to do, and I wasted so much time dawdling about! It was great. Without pressing matters to attend to, I could finally fully relax, maybe edit some pictures, as I had way too many, and read some more, possibly go hang out at one of the several places in town that advertised live music, and perhaps have a beer or something and enjoy the company of others. I never did get around to doing that, however, as I tend to shy away from groups of people. I had had plenty of interaction, however, as wherever I parked, it seemed there was always someone at my elbow, either indicating that they had never seen such a vehicle as my bus, or that they wish they still had theirs. A lot of them were very cool and fun to talk to.

In the morning, the forest came alive. Yep, there was movement in the bushes - something big and brown. I started, then realized that it was not in fact a bull grizzly about to charge me, but a mother and her baby. Not a bear, either. These was mooses! Baby moose didn't seem too concerned by the guy creeping toward them with a big black shiny thing, but Mama moose did seem to be on the verge of possibly coming to stomp my head in. I cooled it on the moose footage gathering. No need to get stomped for a photo of one of the more commonly-sighted critters in these parts!

This day held not too much in the way of excitement. I looked at prices in yet more stores, followed East End Road out until I felt like doing something else, drove back and forth on the Spit again, and parked on the beach waiting for a sunset to happen. One cool thing about the beach by Homer is that you can drive on it. There's packed sand to keep you from sinking, and some people like to go out there past the packed part to rampage in their trucks without the benefit of four-wheel-drive until they get stuck, then use the extra traction afforded by that particular option to get out. Another benefit of having a beach you can drive out onto, so close to a town that is so married to its WiFi, is that given the right set of circumstances, your computer can get reception! (Beats me what "the right set of circumstances may be ... lack of sunspots?) Sitting in your bus, eating chips and salsa, nursing a microbrew and surfing the Internet while on the beach waiting for a sunset has got to be one of the more groovy/unusual feelings I felt during this adventure.

Day Thirteen dawned, and I slept in on purpose, just because I could, and then did my (by now) standard routine - made tea, went to the overlook for breakfast, dropped down into Homer for WiFi, and then toodled about. Today I thought I would explore the roads around Anchor Point, so once I was done with the computer, I headed out of town. On the way, just across from the overlook parking lot, I met Igor. This entertaining chap was keen to get a ride in a bus, or for that matter anything that was moving on wheels, as he was hitchhiking. It turned out well - he had business in Nikolaevsk, the Russian village to the east and north of Anchor Point. As luck would have it, I had no objection to his presence, and I had no schedule, so I agreed to take him out there. In exchange, although unprompted, he told me a lot about the area, and having heard some of my story, knew that I was looking for cool roads to explore, and gave me some recommendations. On the way, a light rain began to fall, and one of the first things I noticed was how slimy the roads were. I drove accordingly. I'm still not sure what caused the loss of traction, but it could be volcanic dust, or a layer of the super-slippy soil that the area's ground is largely comprised of. At any rate, the road was seriously slick!

The account of the adventures with Igor requires many paragraphs, and deserves its own page, as it was the two most significant events that happened during my time in Homer. You can read the full account here: Backroadbussing with Igor. Since it pretty much took up most of the day except for getting coffee and using the Internet in town later, you might as well, but the gist of it is that Igor took me out on a proper backroad, then directed me to a short but adventuresome muddy road to a beach with a waterfall, and there was a lot of engine-screaming, mud-flying slippery fun. I can't even remember if I did anything else interesting that day. There will probably be a video of that on the video page associated with this report ... later.

My second-to-the-last day in Homer was easily the most colorful. Starting out normally enough, the main difference being the weather, which was vibrant and alive. Exhilarating clouds adorned the wickedly blue sky, and in sharp relief against them both were the mountains across the bay. Here's my full account of this most excellent day in Homer. I saw an unlikely RV cruising by as I was leaving the camp spot, and was lucky enough to see it again in town. I met the owner and got some shots of him and his vehicle, which was possibly the funkiest-looking RV I'd ever beheld. This ended up on Rollingheads.org with the other stuff, including some things I saw out on the Spit. The owner gave me some suggestions on how to enjoy the rest of the day, and I took them to heart, and really had a great time out on the Spit, seeing great scenery and lots of wildlifes, including an otter, seabirds, eagles, a jellyfish, a whale or two. Later, I found a little road that looked like it went somewhere, and drove on it toward the coast. It ended at a dual trailhead. Forty minutes later, I ended up (on foot) at the beach, and found myself really overheated in the bright sun. After the hike, back in Homer, I finished the day by beach with the modern equivalent of a flagon of ale at the beach, enjoyed a nice sunset, and went back to my camp site by the river for one last night.

On my final morning in Alaska, I woke up cold. It wasn't any colder than it had been of late, but the new dampness that was ushered in with the brewing storm had crept into my bag with me. Perhaps the fact that this day was not going to be as much fun had something to do with it. I basically spent the day trying to make sure I was organized and ready to take my good bus up to her house for her lonely winter in Homer. I went to the dump to get rid of recycling, to the carwash to try to clean some of the salt goo and mud off the bus, to the laundromat to take a shower to do the same for me, and to the Spit to see if any of my friends from the day before were still out and about.

It was sort of a gloomy day, with shrill winds and a sad, tearing sky. I felt like I was being ejected from Homer. The final run up the hill to the house was not a happy thing, as I knew it was to be the last for a while. I was giving up my autonomy is what was happening! It took me a while to make room for the bus in the garage, and then I just managed to jockey her into the second bay, where a car is not meant to be! She looked sad peering out through the window of the people door. It had taken me longer than I thought to get her all situated, so I hurriedly buttoned her up and called a taxi.

At the airport, after making sure all was in order, and that I knew where "Gate 1" was, (there is only Gate 1!) I sat down to write the last log entry of my trip into my ever-present VW Logbook, and closed its covers. Almost immediately, I started writing this report, and until I am done with it, I cannot turn to the next adventure, which may well be happening - I do not yet know. Perhaps, after the tenth annual Shasta Snow Trip, I will drive Bart, the 1960 doublecab, to Homer, to join his friend Clara.

This will be in the snow, however. It MIGHT be a little different this time! One can only hope.

With that, I close the book, so-to-speak, on this adventure. I hope you enjoyed the ride!

fine'


Gene Cornelius
mizamook@geemail dot com



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