The Brink

Leaving Homer this past Friday, I was happy my car was fixed and set my course for Seward...with a few little stops first of course. The first stop was a ten-mile detour to a small, isolated village called Nikolaevsk. Here, a traditional sect of the Russian Orthodox Church called the Old Believers thrive. They separated from the mainstream Russian Orthodox Church in the 1600s, fled Russia after the Communist take-over and eventually made their way to Alaska's Kenai Peninsula, where they settled in several communities, Nikolaevsk being the most prominent one. They aren't like the Amish who shun technology, but they still hold on to traditional beliefs, and they don't appreciate anyone photographing their gorgeous church unless you ask permission first.

After my little stint there, I returned to Anchor Point (a town roughly 15 miles north of Homer) to indulge in lunch at the Blue Bus. Evidently, it's changed in the last five years, because now it's an actual restaurant instead of meals being cooked and served from the blue bus outside (according to my Lonely Planet guidebook anyway). Nevertheless, my burrito-in-a-boat was pretty tasty and the atmosphere was relaxing, with locals chatting about issues of the day, such as how assanine the Westboro Baptist Church is.

After lunch, I continued northbound to Ninilchik (where the main onslaught of the car issues took shape) to visit the old village and its Russian Orthodox Church, since I wasn't able to my first time through due to car issues. This church and its cemetery, being tourist attractions, can be photographed without permission. Although not as impressive as the one in Nikolaevsk, it stands on top of a hill overlooking the town and makes for a quaint walk to visit the grounds.

Alright, so I'm falling a bit behind on the time and decided to gun it for Seward. I was pretty excited to try my luck at pitching the tent successfully and to go on a ranger-led hike up to see Exit Glacier. The beautiful mountains around, good music streaming from my Zune when low and behold I begin having problems accelerating. I had to literally slam down the accelerator to get any speed, and when I slowed down even for a bit, my engine shut off. I was lucky to be able to coast into a bed-and-breakfast off of the highway, where I preceded to restart the engine. It started up, but the instant I pressed on the accelerator, it shut off. How may sun-sized F bombs can one drop in a trip?

Luckily, I was just outside of the town of Cooper Landing, and a gentleman there by the name of Ken was able to tow my car to his shop. Ken originally assumed it was the timing chain in the engine that went out. He asked me how many miles roughly the car had, I told around 165,000, he subsequently asked the last time we had the timing chain replaced, I said never to my knowledge and that helped to reaffirm his prediction. We get to his shop, I gave him my phone number and car key and proceeded to head down the highway a bit to a nearby hotel. Closed. I walked the other way, whipped out my guidebook for the listings of recommended hotels and B&Bs in the area and called a few of them. One of them was opened but they weren't currently hosting due to an ill family member and the other one was a Princess-ran lodge, so obviously being outside of the cruise season, it's closed.

So, I sat for a while, not knowing at all what to do, and still not feeling confident enough to grab my camping gear and attempt to set up camp without having my car to fall back on. I walked back to Ken's shop and asked for a quick ride through town to check for open hotels. He suggested we head back to the Sunrise Inn and Cafe (where he picked me up from). I said okay, so we drove the ten minute drive back and I stayed there for the night. It just so happened I was gonna stop off at their cafe on my to Seward, because they use quirky and witty names for some of their menu items. That usually translates to weird for me, which means I must check it out. Sure enough, Pig Vomit Omelete was one of the selections. It featured a lot of pork products and cheese, and even features a disclaimer about how bad it is for your heart. I decided to pass on that selection, though, and went with an eggs benedict over a sausage patty which was amazing nonetheless. It didn't have a quirky or witty name, though.

By this time, the realization of possibly cutting my losses was real. But I wanted to hear what Ken had to say before making that kind of a decision. He called me later that evening and told me he was wrong on his original diagnosis, and that he now thought it was one of the coils. Unfortunately, he didn't have the tools on hand to effectively check that out, so he suggested trying a former GM dealership in Soldotna, a town modeled after the typical Lower-48 town rather than harboring a rustic Alaskan feel. I called them the next morning, sure enough they still repaird old GM cars (as long as it didn't pre-date 1930; a little humor was needed). I called Ken and asked if he could tow me to the dealership and he said he could. So, I ate lunch at the cafe, Ken arrived and we were on our way.

On route, we chatted about my time in Skagway, his experiences of living in Alaska for many years (including a lengthy discussion about the bear issues in the area) and dove a little into politics. He's like many Americans; angry with the government. Although he does slant towards the conservative side of the spectrum, we all know Americans of all political ideologies are upset. It should be our one unifying purpose but instead our own politics get in the way because we all have different ideas as to how to fix the issues of our day. But even in Alaska, seemingly so far from the bulk of the problems, is still feeling them, whether its the frustration of its populous or the lower numbers of tourists visiting.

Arriving in Soldotna, we found the dealership. Being a Saturday, their service department was closed for the weekend but their sales department was still open, and they knew I would be arriving. So, after filling out a little paperwork and dropping the keys off, Ken drove me to the Diamond M Ranch Resort, about 5-and-a-half miles to the west of Soldotna. There, I decided to camp out, and what do ya know, I can pitch a damn tent now! I was pretty stoked, which was a much needed boost of energy considering the trip has been seemingly dominated by car problems. The ranch didn't start out as a megaplex for guests to crash at. It was a simple, family-run ranch. However, in this part of Alaska, one thing that makes up for the uninspiring towns of Soldotna and Kenai is the fishing. It is here where some of the largest king salmon to ever be caught are found. Fisherman and tourists by the truck loads flood this area during the salmon run, forcing the Kenai River to its knees, giving up its fertile supply to the hunters. Over the years, many fisherman asked to camp out on the family's ranch and they agreed. So they decided to go the extra distance and turn the ranch into a large complex designed for guests to stay, whether it be in one of their cabins, an RV spot or pitching a tent on a nearby hill.

Combat fishing takes place in this part of Alaska, and isn't as gruesome as it sounds. You don't have Liu Kang or Sub-Zero fighting to get the biggest fish. There are no fatalities due to specialized maneuvers involving hooks through the eyes, crushing the opponent with a large salmon, or bears randomly coming out and mauling folks. No no, this is a (for the most part) a bloodless competition for folks with similar interests to engage in sportsman-like fishing. According to my guide book, the only rules are don't take another fisherman's spot and shout "Fish on" when you have a bite so your neighbors can reel in their lines and move, allowing you room to nab your catch. Oh yes, and don't bitchslap your fellow man with the fish you just caught unless they deserve it.

Outside of the salmon run, this area is a place where boredom can fester very quickly. While there are worst places than Soldotna to be stuck with car trouble (the Alcan), there are also far better ones (i.e. Homer). One of the nice things about the ranch is it's located about halfway between Soldotna and the City of Kenai, and both, if one is willing to make a day's excursion out of it, can be walked to from the ranch. Having a bike would make the journey go by a bit faster. Kenai is really no different; another uninspired town choked with corporate entities, except Kenai has an old section of town and a beach (yes, a beach) that harbors nice views of Mt. Redoubt across the Cook Inlet. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to visit those two places. While in Kenai, I went to their resident Wal-Mart and picked up a pair of hunter's wool socks and some fleece gloves to help my little feet and hands stay warm at night (my feet froze pretty good the first night camping out; figured it was a good idea to solve that problem). It's dropped to the uppers 20s both nights I've camped and due to my sleeping bag and layers of clothing I've kept reasonably warm (a chill every now and then emerges).

And here I am, waiting for the call that will decide the fate of my car. Will the cost of these next round of repairs justify getting it patched up, and then risking the drive home? Or, do I cut my losses and leave it here, making Soldotna its final resting place?