There is a hint of sadness in the air as close friendships have been formed in the last five weeks. Everyone knows that these relationships will now be long-distance ones, however, many will be long-lasting. Don and I still hear regularly from several that we took this tour with three years ago.
The road from Homer to Kenai is a fairly short one compared to some of the traveling days we have taken.
The ground cover here is the fireweed’s leaves turning from green to a deep burgundy color.
And more and more trees are turning gold.
Finally we arrive at Beluga Point RV Park, on a high cliff overlooking where the Kenai River dumps into the Pacific Ocean.
Don and I are, of course, waiting for the caravan to arrive. We are doing our usual thing of planning which RV’s will go in which of the spaces assigned us by the park, moving the hundred-pound (or so) picnic tables that are always in the way of where the rigs will park, and of course getting Don in his final costume.
Then we wait listening on our radios to hear Spike and the group talking so we know when they are close.
Finally they are only a block away. I grabbed the radio (Don having no idea what I am going to say!) and in a somewhat panicky voice called Spike, knowing everyone on the caravan could hear me.
“Spike, we have a problem here. Don is in the bathroom and can’t get out! I don’t know how much longer he is going to be in there! You may have to park yourselves. I just don’t know how soon he will be able to come out!”
Spike gave a tenuous, “OK…” and in they came, Spike leading the pack…then I heard a snicker over the radio as spike spotted Don…
Yes, he WAS in the outhouse…literally!
…then Don turned around displaying the message, “The End of The Tour,” complete with "bare buns" and a handy roll of toilet paper…just in case.
Of course everyone ‘cracked up,’ (pun DEFINITELY intended) and came running with their cameras.
After the craziness settled down, I grabbed a few pictures of the view from the edge of the park. The cliff overlooks the Kenai River on the left and the Pacific Ocean on the right where they meet.
Kenai was originally settled by a certain Russian population that still is in residing there. As a result, there is an old historical Russian Orthodox Church very near the park, and Spike has for years been friends with the priests that regularly hold services there.
We all walked over to the tiny church where Father Thomas told us about the Russian Orthodox faith and the church building itself.
We asked a lot of questions and then walked over to the Russian Orthodox cemetery that was nearby.
Unfortunately, I couldn't get a picture of the discarded street sign that was leaning up against the entrance to the cemetery that said, “Dead End.” Yes, it was certainly that!
That evening provided an opportunity to grab some sunset pictures off the cliff.
The next evening was our final potluck dinner together and more craziness mixed with poignant goodbyes, exchanging plans to see one another down the road, etc.
There was tons of food, and then people began putting on skits, that they had worked up the last few days, reading poems and singing songs, all original material relating to the trip of a lifetime that we had all shared.
Before anything could happen, Dave showed up in his ‘Spike-Look-a-Like’ outfit, curly white hair and beard, yellow jacket, and a little stuffed ‘Skippy’ dog stuck in his jacket. (Spike often carries Skippy that way.) He even managed to snitch, without Spikes knowledge, the hat Spike often wears that has his name embroidered on it. We all loved the ruse.
Spike immediately grabbed the real Skippy and stuck him in his jacket for a “twins” photo op.
Then we were off and running with the skits, poems and songs.
These three ladies traveled by themselves from Tallahassee, Florida to be on the tour with us. We all fell in love with them at the same time being somewhat protective of them, not that they really needed it. They were quite self-sufficient. Except for the time their RV’s slide stuck in the ‘out’ position.
Spike nick-named them, “The Cupcakes,” for no particular reason. Linda, the one pictured in the middle, who was the clown of the tour, declared she was, "No Cupcake, Biscotti, maybe, but not a Cupcake!"
There were numerous other fun things from several of the group and then Don finished it up with the “Tail-Gunners Awards.” We had worked on these for the entire trip, evaluating people and things that happened to come up with an “Award” for one person in each rig.
Most of the “Awards” were funny, having to do with crazy things that happened on the tour.
There was one exception. That was for Marty, whose wife, Bette, has MS and is limited in her mobility. We had all watched as he tenderly zipped jackets for her, put gloves on her hands for her, and many other little things that she could no longer do for herself. He did all this and more with never an irritated word or attitude. He got the “Most Sensitive Husband Award” and he deserved much more.
The next day everyone pulled out of the park, going their own ways, but always keeping an eye out for the bright orange sticker that was on all our rigs and tow cars, indicating that we were part of, ‘Alaska RV Tours.’
Don and I decided to go back to Soldotna for a couple days of fishing in the “World Famous Kenai River.” Right now the Silver Salmon are running and we are looking to fill the rest of the space in our freezer with fresh salmon.
We stayed at an RV park right on the river with it’s own private dock. We fished for two days exactly like everyone else was fishing. We caught…NOTHING!!
Jim and Sonja, the Hawaiians from our group, fished from the Soldotna Visitor Center dock across the river from where we were.
While fishing off the dock Sonja ran into another lady who was fishing as well. She was from Maui where Jim and Sonja live and was someone that Sonja knew. Neither of them knew the other would be in Alaska. Small world, isn't it?
At the Visitor Center was this wonderful bench made by the wood carver whose place of business we had stopped at a few days earlier.
Then there was this carving, intended, I’m sure, to taunt fishermen like us…
…Now that’s just not right!
From here we will go to Glennallen for the night, then start our way back toward home.
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