Too Hot on the Freezing Kenai

As much as I wish this was referring to women, it ain't.

The journey down to Alaska's Kenai Peninsula has been a mixed bag of extremes. On the one hand, you have some of the most beautiful scenery in the entire state at your finger tips, sprinkled with eccentric towns just waiting for you to accept their offerings of peace, adventure, and great food. On the other hand, my car evidently hasn't seen it this way. The Wankavador, a vehicle that's been with me since my latter high school days, is finally showing signs of age and fatigue.

I have been fortunate enough to have been blessed with the opportunity to embark on one of the most coveted roadtrips in North America, as well as to live Alaska. Not many folks can truly say they've done both of these things, especially at once. So with an epic adventure is bound to have its share of misadventures. The first batch of trouble was waaaaay back in Texas in April when, only one hour west of San Antonio, I came within feet of being annihilated by a doe. I violently swerved out of its way at a good 70 mph and did a 720 off the interstate. Even though this was in the Texas Hill Country, thank God it wasn't in an area of drop offs. I'm sure this didn't do anything good for the car, but of course, a bit shaken, I continued on my way and didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. In Seattle, when I realized I left my cameras on the roof of my car when leaving the hotel, I busted the left CV joint ball bearing doing a vicious U-turn to head back and look for them. In Skagway, my fuel pump failed, and eventually that was replaced. And now, what I hope is the grand finale of car trouble, at least for the remainder of this adventure.

In Anchorage, I first noticed the coolant light came on. It's been a while since we've put coolant in the tank so I figured, hey, it's indeed low and added more. Seemed to have solved that little problem, right? It comes on a bit later, but I then assumed the aging electrical system was just being finicky (which does happen), so I thought nothing of it. I kept an eye on the gauge, seemed to be doing alright, no problems. Leaving Anchorage for the Kenai to its south, still no issues to be had...until I reached the town of Ninilchik, my final destination that evening. After discovering its hostel and all but one of its campgrounds were closed for the season, I found the remaining open campground and noticed a lot of smoke coming from the engine. By now, I pretty much assumed something was a bit out of the ordinary. However, first thing was first: setting up camp, because it was getting dark very quickly....yeah, that didn't go too well either, since I don't have much experience setting up tents (but hey, I THINK I can do it now....). Frustrated, I decided to crunch into the front seat of the car and drift off to sleep. I will admit, though, by enveloping myself in a comforter, zipping up my jacket and wearing gloves, it wasn't that uncomfortable temperature wise. I had my nice little pocket of warmth that I was enjoying, but of course, being crunched into the front seat didn't add any comfort value. But hey, it was free and it was a bear-less adventure, and that's really what counts, right?

First chance I got in the morning, I called home to ask my dad to inform him what was wrong and to ask for an opinion on a course of action (yes, the obvious answer would be to get into a shop, but the decision was either to limp back to Anchorage or press on to Homer). Dad took Mom to a doctor's appointment, wouldn't be back for two-three hours. Son of a bitch. Well, back to sleep as best as I could! Dad called me back about two hours later, suggested to take the car back to Anchorage. However, I knew I was only about thirty or so miles from Homer, so I checked to see if they had an auto shop that could check out my vehicle. Yayz, they DID!!!!!!!!!!!! So, I limped off down the Sterling Highway, stopping four times to dump water into the coolant tank to cool off a feverish radiator. If only more cow bell could be the prescription for this fever....

An hour and a half later, I crawled into Homer, population over 5,000, a town with a strong counterculture presence, minimal impact from corporate America and the end of the Kenai's road system from the north. The art scene here is thriving and has several great galleries to visit with amazing artwork of all mediums mainly from local artists (although a few from around Alaska are also featured). More on that later.

I pulled into the auto center, a small, Napa auto part-affiliate on the southside of Homer, roughly halfway between the main town and the Homer Spit (a thin strip of land jutting out into Kachemak Bay that looks like a loogie; one of the major tourist zones of the town). I gave the mechanic my keys and he told me he would call me later that day to let me know what the problem was. Afterwards, I sold out and ate breakfast at McDonalds (I usually hate eating at national chains when traveling but an occasional exception is warranted). For shame. When I drowned my sorrows in sausage fat and hash brown grease, I decided to make best of the situation and walk into town to check it out. I didn't indulge in any of the sights or shops the first day, but the walk was nice and it gave me a little time to relax. I noticed some great little cafes and art galleries on Pioneer St. One cafe in particular featured large, colorful tea cups on top of the front entrance. One serves bee pollen in smoothies for an extra 50 cents. Another is draped with Americana decorations in its interior. Indeed, an eccentric and fun little town.

After my late morning/early afternoon stroll, the subject of lodging became a priority. I had previously decided to visit Homer before the car trouble, and I was gonna rough it out and camp along the Homer Spit. Unfortunately, my gear was in the car, the Spit's campsites were several miles away and closed, and the youth hostel in town was closed for the winter (which is a common occurrence). The nearest lodging was the Beluga Lake Lodge, a higher-end motel that offers decent views of town, part of Beluga Lake and has its own restaurant and bar. Well, there goes that budget trip idea. Luckily, due to it being the off-season, I got a room for a relatively decent price, but $85 is $85. Times that number by three, and here's why:

I visited the auto shop close to their closing time to see if they had found out what was wrong with my car. The diagnosis was a warped coolant housing and a failed power steering pump. They were shocked at how badly it was leaking coolant and damned surprise I was able to get the car down to them. I've noticed throughout my adventure, there have been a lot of "you were damn lucky" moments. Somebody up above must love me a lot. They told me the approximate cost, said there was a good chance they could have it all done by noon Thursday (being today) and it would be all gravy. Roughly $750 with labor. Yes, I know, I got off easy (considering where I am and the what the problems were), but again, $750 is $750, and it doesn't erase the frustration of the situation. I let my hotel know of the situation, informed them that despite their required check-out time of 11 AM that I had to stay until about 1 PM. I called the shop today around 12:15, they told me it would be 3ish before the car would be done. *sigh*. Yep, had to let the hotel know I wouldn't be checking out 'till 4, they informed me there would be a $25 late check out fee, frustration level increases to a 4 out of 5. 4 PM rolls around, I check out, the hotel was nice enough to wave that late fee, frustration level decreases to a 3 out of 5.

With my overfull backpack and tent strapped to my back and my toiletries bag and Lonely Planet Alaska guidebook in hand, I walked the several blocks down to the auto shop. Car should be ready in a few minutes? No problem. It's only 4:30, if I can get out by 5 I can make it up to Ninilchik and make a second attempt at battling my tent with plenty of time before the sun sleeps for the night. 5 rolls around, nothing. 5:30 rolls around...."Yeah...your left front ball bearing is badly damaged to the point where it will essentially destroy that axle if not replaced." Insert a sun-sized F bomb....here. Frustration level: 10 out of 5. If I had left tonight, I wouldn't even be able to make it back to Anchorage, they predicted. I relented. And I knew who's fault that problem was. And, here I am. My third night in Homer, car repair bill roughly $1,000 alone, and only eight days into the trip. Yes, my friends, the big picture is that I need to get home safely. Yes, my friends, considering this is Alaska, I got pretty lucky on both the costs and that the problems could have been much worse. But once again, my friends, allow me to be frustrated at the situation without being reminded of "the big picture". I'll look back on it in a day or two and gladly accept it as part of this grand adventure...okay, maybe in three days...or maybe when I successfully transverse the Alcan (Alaska Highway) back to its terminus in Dawson Creek without incident, but either way, it'll pass. But most likely a day or two is all that will be needed.

Homer is a really cool town, and I did take advantage of the situation to explore some of what this quirky place has to offer, but I think I'm gonna end this blog here. I'll save my impressions on Homer for the next blog, which will hopefully be strictly positive with a dash of playful cynicism and sarcasm for good measure. Good night, my friends, sleep well and hopefully the next blog will be recorded from a location other than Homer.