5/15/23: Alaska's Kenai Peninsula Towns

Click the map to enlarge it so you can see where we drove that day.

As I mentioned previously, there are only two highways out of Anchorage: the Glenn Highway heading north and the Seward Highway heading south, so tourists would have to work pretty hard to get lost! Steven and I pointed the car south again on the Seward Highway, retracing our steps for a bit before exploring the Kenai Peninsula on the Sterling Highway, considered the heart of the peninsula.

As we again drove along the Turnagain Arm, I remembered the guide on the bus trip from Whittier to Anchorage telling us how dangerous it was near the shore. When people get stuck in the quicksand, they must receive immediate assistance to be extracted.  

Soon after entering the Kenai Peninsula, we encountered many dead trees, but we didn't know what had caused the devastation.

When Steven and I began traveling internationally together over a decade ago, I wish I had thought to compile pictures of the various animal crossing signs, as that would have been a fun post! Some people are lucky enough to catch sight of moose, mountain goats, and Dall sheep near the road, but not us. It may be just as well that we didn't come across a moose that often dart unpredictably into the road, as a half-ton moose would likely do as much damage to our car as we'd do to it!

For once, we were in no rush, so we decided to stop in the tiny community of Cooper Landing that sat at the junction of where Kenai Lake flows out into the open Kenai River. The picturesque outpost was named for Joseph Cooper, a miner who worked the region in the 1880s.

If you fancy yourself as a salmon fisherman - sorry, I just can't say 'fisher' -  Cooper Landing has one of the most iconic salmon fishing streams in Alaska, if not the country. Just a few miles away, the Russian River, which flows into the Kenai to join its rush to the sea. It is also renowned for salmon fishing. Since we're not into fishing, the well-regarded Cooper Landing Historical Society Museum was more our speed. 

I like to think that the "Catch and Release" referred to the salmon, and not to people!

I was mightily impressed that the 300 people in Copper Landing could support the museum, which was housed in two historic buildings, one, a 1920s cabin that served as the Copper Landing Post Office for almost 40 years, and the other, the local schoolhouse for nearly 50 years. 

To our dismay, however, it was too early in the tourist season for the museum to be open. That was something we hadn't considered when we booked the first cruise of the year up the Inland Passage from Vancouver to Alaska, to be followed by a two-week road trip through much of the state. We hadn't realized that the sights we'd hoped to see the day before in Eklutna and Palmer, and now Cooper Landing, were closed because of the state's very short summer tourist season.

This was our first view of the Russian River. John Muir (1838-1914) was a Scottish-American naturalist, author, and early wilderness advocate, known as the Father of the National Park for his role in preserving America's wild lands and co-founding the Sierra Club. Muir was quoted at the museum for saying, "I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found was really going in."

The shed housed an enormous cross-section of a Sitka spruce, estimated to be about 600 years old. I didn't verify that by counting the tree rings, though!

Steven and I would also have liked to stop at the nearby K'Beq' Cultural Site, maintained by the Kenaitize Tribe, the original Dena'ina people in the area, but it was also closed. Too bad we couldn't learn about their traditional way of life before the flood of sport fishing took over.

Once we left the area, the sight of the effects of a devastating fire was evident as far as our eyes could see in every direction. The Swan Lake Fire was a large lightning-caused wildfire that burned between Sterling and Cooper Landing in the peninsula's Kenai National Wildlife Refuge ten months before we visited. The fire displayed extreme behavior, including burning in the tundra above timberline and burning over rock piles. In less than 24 hours, the fire jumped the highway and the Kenai River and overran access roads to campgrounds. The Sterling Highway, the only road access to the Kenai Peninsula towns of Sterling, Homer, Soldotna, and Kenai, shut down for more than a day.

We had been surrounded by magnificent mountain ranges for days, so the sudden sight of flat terrain along the Sterling Highway was a little jarring.

Arriving about an hour later on the outskirts of Soldotna, we noticed that gas prices were $3.79 a gallon, the same as in both Anchorage and Denver at the time. By comparison, two-and-a-half years later, we're now paying only $2.19, and that's not even at the cheapest gas stations in town. How does that compare to gas in your neck of the woods?

We were in luck as the Soldotna Homestead Museum had only opened that morning for the season - phew, that was cutting it a bit close. Soldotna's claim to fame was claiming the world-record king salmon, a 97-pound, 4-ounce monster! Soldotna was first opened to homesteading in 1947, with preference given to World War II vets who had to slog in on foot from Moose Pass, 70 miles away, or on foot, after arriving on the barge from Kenai, 12 miles away. 

Veterans could use their years in service toward the "proving up" requirements." Some vets had served in Alaska during the war and wanted to return to stay. Others arrived driven by a sense of adventure for hunting and fishing opportunities, or possibly to test themselves. Settling together, they became a community, and through hard work, the city of Soldotna.

Pardon the glare, but this was a replica of the $7.2 million check the United States used to purchase Alaska from Russia in 1867. 

Before 1927, Alaska was still a territory, meaning that the federal government controlled Alaska and its citizens lacked voting representation in Washington. As they had no flag of their own, Alaskans had flown only the American flag since Alaska was purchased from Russia. But Territorial Governor George Parks believed having a flag would help Alaska become a state. The Alaska American Legion held a contest open to all Alaska children in grades 7-12 to design Alaska's new flag.

In 1926, 13-year-old Aleut Benny Benson, born in the small fishing community of Chignik on the south shore of the Alaska Peninsula, designed the eight stars of gold on a field of blue flag that flies over Alaska. His father was a Swedish fisherman, and his mother was an Aleut Russian. When he was three, his mother died from pneumonia, and soon after, the family's house burned down. These tragic events forced his father to separate Benson from his two siblings. Benson and his younger brother were sent to the orphanage in Ulalaska, where hundreds of Aleut orphans lived, before it was moved to a larger facility in Seward, our destination for the next two nights. 

Benson created a scene familiar to every Alaska child who looked skyward, the seven stars of the Big Dipper and the guiding light of the North Star. He explained in his design submission to the judges that the "blue field represents the Alaska sky and the forget-me-not, an Alaska flower. The North Star is for the future of the state, the most northerly in the Union. The dipper is for the Great Bear - symbolizing strength." How insightful, especially for someone so young.

Benson's creativity inspired his fellow Indigenous people, who had only received citizenship and the right to vote four years before Benson's win. When Alaska achieved statehood in 1959, Benson's territorial flag became the official state flag. 

Outside the museum was a replica of a homesteader's cabin and a shed.

Next to it was the Slikok Valley School, the last log school built in Alaska's territorial days. It was located about 4 miles from Soldotna, but it served only 2 years, beginning in 1958.

The original Coleman lanterns were still hanging in the school, as were the plywood blackboard, the coat rack, and the bookshelf. The electrical cable spool where the children hung their lunch buckets, the students' desks, and chairs were the same as the originals.

Tommy Jo Corr, a student, was quoted as saying, "Our supplies came from Juneau (the capital). Each student had a text. We had enough pencils and paper. One year, we put on a play. They acted out a story from a book. We performed it out-of-doors."

S/he added, " School started at 8:30. It was often dark when the children arrived and almost dark when they started walking home again. The first-graders should have been dismissed earlier, but they waited to walk in order to walk home with their siblings. The big kids had more sense of what to do in case of moose on the trail."

I swear I remember these images and text from my old school days, way back when in Ottawa!

Even if you're not living in the US, I hope you'll find this as amusing as I did after clicking on the state names so you can read them more easily. Six Colorados would fit inside Alaska!

The only reason to stop at the Soldotna Visitor Center was to gaze admiringly at the humongous salmon caught by Soldotna resident Les Anderson out of the Kenai River on May 17, 1985, in Kenai. When he fished it out of the river, he threw it in his truck and didn't weigh it for seven hours. The Kenai River in May wasn't known for large king salmon, as the typical fish ran 20 to 30 pounds. Anderson wasn't after a record-setting fish. He went fishing because he loved to fish! His record still stands, by the way.

A western spur took us to Kenai, described as a "rare bird, a major Alaska town with minimal tourism." The Chapel of St. Nicholas, a National Historic Landmark, was built around 1906 atop the grave of the Kenai Peninsula's first resident priest, Igumen (Abbot) Nicholai, also known as Father Nicholas. 

With the assistance of two others, Father Nikolai brought the smallpox vaccine to the Kenai Peninsula and vaccinated many people against the deadly disease. On December 19, St. Nicholas Day, a memorial dedication or moleiben is held to remember this beloved priest and his assistants. 

Although it appeared quite old, the chapel was twelve years younger than the neighboring Holy Assumption of the Virgin Mary Russian Orthodox  Church, the first Russian Orthodox Church on mainland Alaska. Church services are still regularly held in the National Historic Landmark.

Across the street was the Parish House Rectory, built in 1881 or 1887, depending on your sources. Believed to be the oldest building on the Kenai Peninsula, it has been used as a residence since its inception. 

Not far from the beautiful churches in Old Town Kenai was the surprising Kenai Beach, a sweeping stretch of sand. If we'd been there in the latter part of July, what a sight we would have had of hundreds of frantic fishermen "dipnet" to catch sockeye salmon at the mouth of the Kenai River. What a kick I'd get watching the fishermen wearing chest waders and walking into waist-deep water, or deeper, with each one pushing a giant net out front that typically has a five-foot-wide hoop and a handle that, in extreme cases, is more than 20-feet long! The event is only open to those who have lived in Alaska for the previous year.

A view of Mt. Redoubt, the volcano that erupted steam and ash in December 1989:

Who would have thought we'd be treated to the sight of a stunning aquamarine-colored body of water here in Alaska - certianly not us!

More eye-popping shots en route to Seward:

Passing through Cooper Landing once again, we reached Tern Junction at the intersection of the Seward and Sterling Highways and drove over Moose Pass and then south toward Seward, the end of the Seward Highway.

For mural lovers like us, Seward (pronounced Soo-word) was the cat's meow, because of its many murals. Even with only 2,800 residents, there were more than two dozen public paintings in the quaint little fishing town. Tourism is big business in the town located on Resurrection Bay, at the gateway to Kenai Fjords National Park.

We saw the first one, Kenai Fjords National Park, as we entered Seward.

Seward was officially designated the Mural Capital of Alaska in 2008, upon the completion of its 12th colorful mural. This achievement resulted from the enthusiasm and energy of a group of local artists and art lovers who began volunteering their talents in 1999 to paint the town!

Mount Marathon:

Kenai Fjords, Where Mountains, Ice, and Oceans Meet:

Postcards of the Past:

Fog Woman:

The mural, Raven the Creator, described the world in the beginning as all water. As Raven flew above, he saw Salmon Woman swimming below. Curious, Raven swooped down to talk to her, became enamored of her, and asked her to marry him. She only agreed if he created land, which he did with the assistance of other sea creatures. Sand was obtained from the sea to create land and islands, so that Salmon Woman could come ashore to dry her hair in the wind.

The mural was called The Iditarod Trail, which I described in the previous post. In the winter of 1908, a gold strike on Otter Creek, a tributary of the Iditarod River, prompted the Alaska Road Commission to construct a trail from Seward to the Iditarod Mining District and then on to Nome. In 1910-11, nearly 1,000 miles of trail were surveyed, marked, and cleared. 

The Iditarod, initially called the Seward to Nome Mail Trail, was a winter trail, and dog teams and sleds were the most popular means of travel. People, gold, mail, and freight flowed up and down the trail until the 1920s, when mining declined, and planes began to replace dog teams. The annual Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race mostly follows the old trail and commemorates the critical role sled dogs played in opening the Alaska frontier. Congress designated the Iditarod Trail a National Historic Trail, something I never knew existed before this. 

Wildflower Garden was the lovely result of the Seward Mural Society's Mural in a Day 2006.

Pony Cove: 

While we were on the mural hunt, we spotted the handsome Van Gilder Hotel. Built in 1916 as an office building, it was named for the Idahoan who financed it, and it became a hotel in 1921. Over the decades, the hotel changed hands several times and even hosted a legendary, ongoing pinochle game. It was listed in the National Register of Historic Places in 1980.

Next post: Exploring Kenai Fjords National Park by ship!

Posted on December 11th, 2025, from an overcast but warm day in Denver, where the temperature was in the high 60s. Last week's snowstorm, which resulted in icy roads and sidewalks too slick to walk on with ease, seems like an almost distant memory now! Please take care of yourself and your loved ones.

5/14/23: Stunning Seward Highway, Whittier, & Dog Mushing

Almost half of Alaska's approximately three-quarters of a million people lived in Anchorage, the state's only actual 'big' city. It was just a 30-minute drive to reach the wilderness of authentic Alaska and Flattop Mountain, located on the city limits. One of the city's most prominent features is its abundance of tree-lined paved and unpaved trails totaling almost 225 miles. To experience them firsthand, Steven and I drove west from the city center to Kincaid Park.

We only stopped briefly, however, after encountering our first moose in the wild!

We then headed south again on the Seward Highway, a National Scenic Highway, to gawk at the wilderness. Our first stop was Potter Marsh in the Anchorage Coastal Wildlife Refuge, a 540-acre wetland that has provided critical habitat for numerous wildlife species since 1917, with a boardwalk added in 1985.

Construction of the Alaska Railroad from Seward to Fairbanks unintentionally created Anchorage's most popular wildlife haven. Workers need to build tunnels and embankments and blast rock from mountainsides to lay the track. When railroad employees created an embankment between Rabbit and Potter Creeks in 1916 and 1917, it impounded several creeks and limited tides and storm surges, creating Potter Marsh. 

Some fun trivia: Anchorage is the only known city in the world with resident brown and black bear populations, including 90 or so that live in or near the metro area, including Potter Marsh.

John, the volunteer host, told us that the birch trees had only started to bud that morning, which was a sure sign of spring - what perfect timing! Because Anchorage is located on or near the state's southern coast, Southcentral Alaska has a relatively mild climate with summer temperatures even peaking in the low 80s in recent years. 

We didn't spot any bears or other wildlife from the boardwalk, but it was still a fun way to start our day. 

Two miles south was Chugach State Park Headquarters, housed in the Potter Section House, a historic railroad workers' dorm.

Outside was a snowplow train, something I'd never heard of before.

Part of the Seward Highway took us along Turnagain Arm, the body of water we'd traveled yesterday by tour bus after our Inland Passage cruise ended. Because we didn't have time to do it justice then, we wanted to explore one of the state's prettiest roads more leisurely.

Alaska has one of the world's largest tidal ranges. One attraction along this section of the highway was the bore tide, a neat trick of geography that requires a combination of narrow, shallow waters and rapidly rising tides. The tide, sometimes swooping in as a wave up to 10 feet in height and traveling at speeds up to 15mph, fills the arm in one go. Sometimes, there are paddleboarders, windsurfers, and kayakers who turn out to ride the wave all the way up the arm. What a sight that must be!

The most popular spot to catch the dramatic bore tide is Beluga Point Overlook, several miles further south on Turnagain Arm. However, since this was our only opportunity to be here, we hadn't consulted the bore tide schedule in advance.

We did learn there, though, that belugas are small white whales that are more like dolphins than like whales, which have big breaching moves. Belugas gently ascend to the surface to breathe before descending again.

Other stunning viewpoints along the arm:

I neglected to write down this location along the arm to show that the water was at an even lower tide the further south we drove.

I'll be the first to admit this wasn't the best picture, but I took it to show the train tracks paralleling the road next to the highway. 

We'd read that driving the narrow, two-lane Seward Highway was as dangerous as it was beautiful, with crowds of both lumbering RVs and passenger cars slowing to admire the breathtaking views. We noticed some travelers in a rush, tailgating dangerously, and others failing to adhere to the law to pull over and letting other cars pass when more than five cars were stacked up behind them. 

The further south we drove, the more miserable the weather became!

About 35 miles south of Anchorage was the community of Girdwood, described as a "funky little ski town" and a favorite getaway for people from the big city. 

As we left the Seward Highway and headed toward Whittier, the end point of our cruise the previous day, we encountered low-lying fog in the Portage Valley.

We didn't pause long, bearing in mind the numerous "Avalanche Area Next Five Miles: Do Not Stop" signs we'd passed.

Some views of Portage Lake, which we'd seen briefly yesterday when the bus driver stopped:

We heaved a sigh of relief when we realized we'd timed our drive through the Anton Anderson Memorial Tunnel perfectly at 1:30, as otherwise we'd have had to wait another hour because southbound vehicles only go through on the half-hour.

God forbid there was an emergency while in the tunnel, there were eight "bugout" shelters, aka safe houses, complete with a stash of MREs, in case cars or trains were stranded inside. 

Our bus driver/guide had told us the day before that Whittier, also known as Wettier for its year-round wet weather, was founded in 1941 as a deepwater military base and then heavily fortified in the early years of the Cold War before the military pulled out in the 1960s. Its location was critical because whoever controlled the port was within nine hours of 90 percent of the industrialized world, according to our driver. He added that you could only drive between Whittier and Anchorage beginning in the 1990s!

Before arriving in Whittier, I read that part of its bizarreness is that most of its inhabitants live in a single building, the 14-story Begich Towers. I'd have cabin fever living there, knowing that it is also home to a grocery store, post office, and community center! An underground tunnel links it to the local elementary school.

As we drove around what remained of the Whittier Army Port Historical District, we saw the Gymnasium, one of the structures built to "facilitate a comfortable environment for the US Army garrison based here," as the harsh winters kept people inside.

The operation of the Whittier Army Port required the use of hundreds of vehicles for port maintenance and personnel transport. Snow plows, military buses, bulldozers, and cranes were stored in the Motor Pool Building, circa 1954-60. The building used to be twice as long until one of Whittier's legendary snowfalls collapsed the roof.

During 1943-44, the tunnel was put into service, the railyard was completed, and the docks were receiving cargo from ocean-going ships. Cargo was loaded directly into the waiting train cars, whose train tracks had been placed on top of the docks. Fresh meats and vegetables had to be kept refrigerated for transport to the military bases in Alaska's interior. This concrete Cold Storage Facility, equipped with freon refrigeration units, was built by the Army Corps of Engineers in the late 1940s and used until 1960. It now serves as the Great Pacific Seafoods processing plant for the local fisheries. 

An adjacent building housed the Post Telephone Exchange or command center and the Alaska Army Communication Systems Building. The two-story concrete structure, now the Anchor Inn Restaurant, where we had a bite to eat, was the oldest surviving building at Whittier Army Port and the first capital structure in the community. Several years later, the military added a third story. In 1990, a fourth story was added. 

It was hard to miss the brutalist-style Buckner Building, a kind of mini-city built in 1953 during the Cold War for Whittier's military personnel. It only served its purpose for less than a decade after the military withdrew in 1960. Considered too expensive to renovate and too 'historic' to tear down, it remained an eyesore after being vandalized.

A view of Prince William Sound, as we left Whittier:

If you look closely, you can see the waterfall roaring down the mountain, also outside Whittier.

Once again, we'd timed our drive through the tunnel well, arriving shortly before 3, as northbound departures only leave on the hour. Signs in the tunnel indicated the significant distance apart between buses and cars, so the eight escape hatches weren't overloaded in case of an emergency. The price two plus years ago for the round-trip fare was $13 - not bad, especially since it included MREs in a pinch!

Ten miles south of Girdwood, there was a barest hint of a blue sky at the Portage Glacier Overlook, technically the ghost town of Portage. The ground it was built on sank more than ten feet during the 1964 earthquake. 

There was little to see except the skeletons of trees that were essentially mummified by the sudden introduction of saltwater.

A few old buildings peeked up out of the wetlands.

Despite the mummified trees, the area still had a stark beauty.

We had hoped to spend longer at the Bird Point Overlook, as the views were gorgeous. However, its proximity to the highway made it too noisy to be pleasant.

How sad that crime in Anchorage is so high that even the Welcome to Anchorage sign was shot out!

Signs every few feet proclaimed this was Anchorage's Mushing District! 

For those of you who didn't read my post on Greenland's sled dogs, dog mushing is a traditional and recreational activity in which a team of sled dogs (not bears, as in the photo below!) pulls a sled across the snow, a practice that originated with Indigenous peoples for survival and transportation. Now, Alaska's official state sport, dog mushing is practiced for fun, adventure, and competitive racing, such as the famous Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. 

Each winter, Anchorage hosts two of the world's greatest sleddog races, the Fur Rendezvous World Championship and the Iditarod. This was the starting line for both races. The sculpture was dedicated to all dog mushers and their dogs.

Built in 1915, the Wendler Building, Anchorage's first general merchandising store, was the city's first permanent building. 

On the side of the building was a sign listing the Iditarod champions. The Iditarod, often called the Last Great Race on Earth, is an annual long-distance sled dog race held in Alaska every March. Mushers and their teams of approximately 12 to 16 dogs cover nearly 1,000 miles of rugged Alaskan wilderness, from the interior to the Bering Sea coast, finishing in Nome. 

The historic City Hall building was constructed in 1936 and served as the city's administrative center until 1979. Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, it was designed in the Beaux-Arts architectural style. 

Just north of downtown Anchorage was Ship Creek, which became, in the early 1900s, a central hub for the Alaska Railroad, leading to Anchorage growing into the city it is today. This area was where workers set up camp and helped build the railroad. Now described as one of the best places for urban salmon fishing in the US, we would have seen people reeling in king or silver salmon if we were visiting later in the summer.

A sculpture depicted Grandma Olga, aka Olga Nikolai Ezi, who originally hailed from the Tyone Lake, Copper Center regions. In about 1986, Olga married Dena'ina leader Simeon Basdut, one of the last recognized chiefs of the upper Cook Inlet, including Anchorage and the Matanuska Valley. The Russian government certified Simeon as a Chief due to his success in trade and his Russian Orthodox faith. 

Olga, Simeon, and their five children led a hard-working, subsistence lifestyle, fishing in the spring and summer months and hunting moose, sheep, and ducks in the fall and winter. The pair eventually settled in Eklutna Village where they were well-respected elders. What a shame that we hadn't known to look for her grave when we were in the village cemetery the day before.

After the rich and fattening food on board the ship for the past week, Steven and I craved some comfort food that night for dinner. The best choice was the Northernmost Denny's in the World - don't laugh too hard at our culinary choices!

Next post: Driving southwest to the Kenai Peninsula towns of Cooper Landing, Soldotna, and Seward.

Posted on December 8th, 2025, from an almost balmy Denver after the significant snowstorm we had several days ago. The roads and much of our lawn are clear of snow - things are looking good for walking with a friend in our neighborhood parks tomorrow. Please take care of yourself and your loved ones.