Seward, on Resurrection Bay

We leave Anchorage having enjoyed our stay and drive the 130 miles or so to Seward, on the Kenai Peninsula, for our next stop.  

Weather has continued to be beautiful and the drive affords spectacular views of the Cook Inlet on the right (a repeat of what we saw on the train, as Hwy-1 parallels the tracks) and tall peaks dotted with snow and glaciers on the left.

We camp at the Municipal Campground on the waterfront of an area named Resurrection Bay by the Russians.  The snow-clad steep mountains loom across the water as far as we can see in both directions.  This seems to be a recurring theme of Alaska - vast mountain expanses everywhere.

Patty and some others suggest we join them for a happy hour but Marcia seems hesitant and I end up going by myself.  Later I check on her and decide she has just reached that point in a long large caravan when you want to be alone for a while to do your own thing, such as quietly read a book. 

Marcia reads as the Men of NorCal preen for her attention.

At the happy hour I notice Bev sitting like a mother with a baby swaddled in her arms.   I take the chair beside her and she introduces me to her 12-year-old dachshund, snuggling against the cold.  This is the first we have spoken  and we talk about life in general, pets, and children.  She and Fred drove trucks for many years for a living, and I mention that my cousin abandoned a career as a writer to become a truck driver and loved it, and is now a dispatcher only so he can spend more time with his wife and young daughter, adopted from India.  I mention that I’m disappointed Scott hasn’t combined his skills and written a book or magazine article about his career change. Bev smiles and says he should.  She and Fred have two boys but chose to adopt a girl from Korea many years ago.  She confides all these years she has kept a very frank daily journal.  This prompts me to say that if I’m honest with myself one of the reasons I’ve been keeping a trip blog is so our grandkids as yet unborn may have a chance to know something personal about their grandparents.