Homer Spit

I could see how this landmark could be brutal at other times during the year, but at that moment, I couldn't think about the dark side of Homer Spit. The 4 1/2 mile strip of land jutting out into Kachemak Bay was breathtaking. It was more than we could have hoped for when we took the advice of a local Alaskan, "You might want to travel down to Homer. It is pretty down there." I don't know if I have ever witnessed to a bigger understatement.

We had arrived in Anchorage the afternoon before, and after a quick shower at the local university, we followed the advice of the aforementioned local and set out for Homer, AK. But we were unable to make it all the way there without needing to stop and rest. So we pulled over on the side of the road and fell asleep in our cozy Aerostar. In the lower 48, pulling over on the side of the road to sleep may have prompted a visit from the local authorities and a light shining through the window in our eyes, but there really isn't that problem up there. I guess because we were far enough from town that they didn't send the cops around to check on stopped cars. Or they figure that if you are brave enough to risk taking a nap on the side of the road, they don't want to mess with you.

In the morning, we drove a short way to the small town of Homer. It resides on Kachemak Bay nestled amidst picturesque mountains, green hills and a billowing sea. As we crested the last hill before town, we saw a sleepy town waking up to the early morning light, perched on the edge of a breathtaking, but untamed body of water. There weren't many places to go that morning, but the one spot we noticed from the top of the hill was a spit of land running out into the bay.

As we drove the slim strip of rock and earth, we noticed a small campground right on the beach. So we pulled over onto the rock parking lot and noticed a few tents spotting the landscape. We emerged from our own driveable tent to feel the blast of the autumn-like wind blowing off the bay. It would have been incredible to camp on that resolute little spit. That strip of land has seen portions of it covered by the waves and battered by the winds, but still stands, unwilling to give in. And all of this drama set against the backdrop of pristine mountains and clear skies.

We took in the scene as passers-by, unable to spare too much time in our whirlwind journey across the last frontier. We hopped back in our tent, wondering what new campsite we would step out onto next.