Another Fine Day Ride to Hope

Having pretty limited destination options on the Kenai Peninsula means that I tend to ride to the same destination more often than I like, as I enjoy different scenery and the discoveries to be made in a new location.  Being that we are just now ending the restrictions of the corona virus and the rules that kept us home and sequestered for months and the fact that the last summer's riding season in Alaska was prevented by one of the most ferocious wildfire seasons and further hampered by ubiquitous road construction, I am willing to ride anywhere I can.  Lots of pent up desire to be on my bike makes for willingness to go to just about anywhere no matter how many times I have been there before.

Hope, Alaska is a tiny place.  It is home to a hearty few, a place mostly undiscovered by the wealthy that like to build "summer cabins" with fantastic views and privacy.  It is the place where the Resurrection River empties into Turnagain Arm and in the later months of summer, hosts a tremendous run of pink salmon.  Surprisingly, there is a public school  ("Home of the Huskies") a couple of cafe's and a very small store.  Perhaps if I spent more time in Hope I would discover much more but for a momentary traveler like myself, it is mostly what is on the main drag through town that gets seen.  The state of Alaska maintains a pretty campground at the official "end of the road" that I intend to come back and camp in some day as well.  Those are the highlights.  Hope really isn't the motivation to the ride, although I would like to justify the reason to go there if I could ever get there when the cafe' that serves pie was open.  I seem to show up only when the doors are shut.  The impetus for the ride is the journey as they say.  It is a beautiful trip.

From where I live, Hope is only a little over a 200 mile trip.  Half a day at best if you don't spend a lot of time looking around.  From my home, you travel through Soldotna, Sterling, Cooper Landing and Sunrise, all in descending order of population as well as sequence.  All are charming in some way and offer activities that make getting there worth the trip.

On this trip, we had recently emerged not only from the 'rona travel restrictions, but from a rainy period that didn't seem like it was going to quit anytime soon.  I found myself unexpectedly free from responsibility for a full day with the promise of warmth and sun before me.  I left my home around 8:30 am and worked my way through Soldotna (Saul-dot-na) a little surprised at how light traffic was on this Friday.  I soon blinked and Sterling was behind me as well.  I really don't consider myself "out of town" until I am north of Sterling as the cluster of Nikiski, Kenai, Soldotna and Sterling are all pretty close to each other and pretty familiar.  So, as I drop into third gear and power up the little hill as you leave Sterling, I head toward the "flats" where most of the wildfire activity took place last summer. 

The fire burned hot and fast leaving all of the little black spruce trees (that's a variety of spruce) blackened, denuded of needles and the entire forest strewn down on the ground like so many matchsticks spilled from a box.  Perhaps a silver lining to some, the morel mushrooms grow well in recent wildfire areas and the pickers are already out enmasse.  The sides of the Sterling Highway are lined with cars with no one in sight. 

I am in no particular hurry as I reach the newly completed re-paved, widened two-lane road with strategically placed passing lanes, section of the Sterling Highway.  It is marvelous.  There is nothing a biker likes more than fresh asphalt.  I ascend into the hills that rise from the flats and continue unimpeded through Jean Lake, past the upper Skilak Lake Loop Road and The Russian River.  As I approach Cooper Landing, I anticipate what is coming.  I slow, gear down to the 35 mph posted speed limit as I begin to snake through this little community right on the beautiful Kenai River.  I crack open by face shield on my helmet and breath deeply.  The aroma of freshly leafed trees and alders is heavily fragrant in the air.  It always is this time of year.  I love the smell.  It is an aroma that doesn't last more than a couple of weeks at best and won't be back for another year.  To me it is almost itself worth the trip.

A small caravan of campers and cars with kayak racks on top begins to form as the slower speed limit tends to bunch us up.  I have a plan as one of the best sections of road is just ahead and I like to ride it with no other vehicles in front of me.  I turn off the Sterling Highway onto Snug Harbor Road which is right where Kenai Lake becomes the Kenai River.  Right away, there is another turn off to the left where Kenai Lake Baptist Church has been for many years.  It is deserted today and quiet, a perfect place to get off the bike, stretch my legs and wait for the caravan of cars and campers to get far ahead.

It's a beautiful little log church, it looked like it had been where it is a long time when I moved to the Kenai Peninsula 32 years ago.  I don't think much has changed.  Modern convenience seems to still have passed them by and traditional touches are evident.

 An Alaskan "cache" serves as the bell tower.  Indoor plumbing has yet to arrive.

The church "fellowship hall" has one of the most beautiful views anywhere.

I am surprised that this church is still here.  Not because it may not have a robust congregation, but because of it's location.  My surprise is that some wealthy person has not bought their location and built a gate accessed baron's lodge in the church's place.  The pictures from my iPhone 10 just don't capture the wealth of beauty this spot is.  I am pleased the church hasn't sold out.

I don my helmet and jacket again and enter the highway gain.  Open and empty, just the way I like it.  I slowly cross the bridge admiring the turquoise blue of the Kenai river and then wind my way through the rest of Coooper Landing following the lakeside path of the road.  The road here is very narrow and as I approach my favorite stretch, it appears even more narrow with the trees encroaching on both sides.  Serpentine curves, uphill grade turn to tighter curves and a downhill grade.  It is glorious for a bike rider and I have it all to myself.  Understand, I'm riding a touring bike, a Harley Davidson FLHTCU (whatever that stands for) Ultra Glide.  It is built for comfort, riding distances, interstates and the like.  On curves and such it isn't in its best element but I can pretend I am on a Japanese crotch rocket laying over with my knee a centimeter from the pavement.  I'm not, but that is the way it feels and I like it.  Too soon I am through the curves and at Sunrise which I pass by without a stop. 

Just a few miles down the road I reach the intersection of the Seward Highway and the Sterling Highway at Tern Lake.  It's a beautiful location.  I heard a few years back, that there was a plan afoot to designate Tern Lake a national monument with and accompanying cash flow to put hiking paths and platforms around the lake to better experience it's beauty.  It must have been a rumor because it is still beautiful but no hiking paths or platforms yet.

Just a rather crusty pullout with crumbling asphalt and gravel sort of haphazardly there next to the lake.  I pause just a moment to snap a picture and again am on my way.  The dilemma of riding in Alaska is that there are so many picture worthy views that were a person to stop and take those pictures, you would never get anywhere.  So, I take a few and attempt to describe the rest.

I am now in Turnagain Pass.  The hills have turned to mountains to which snow fields still cling heavily and will into most of the summer before being renewed next winter.  Good snow pack provides lots of water that become the streams and rivers and lakes that grace the views from the road.  Upper Summit lake comes up soon.

The lodge and cafe here doesn't look like it will open this year due to the 'rona.  After last summer's devastating fires on the peninsula these small business places may dry up and not come back, a very sad prospect.  Two hard summers of no income is not a hardship many can overcome.

Lower Summit Lake is not far.  It has always had one of the most iconic "Alaskan" views of a rustic cabin on a lakeside that can been appreciated from the road that I have ever seen.  I don't know who owns these little places but I have to admit to some envy.

The traffic is still light as I head on to the "Hope Cutoff" and to my destination for the day.  The bike is performing well as I climb the grades and lean into my curves.  I finally see the sign:

 At last, I'm at the cutoff.  I signal left and leave the Seward Highway and turn onto the Hope Road. 

I don't know it at this point, in fact, it is too much to ask or think would ever happen.  For the next 15 miles I do not encounter a single vehicle in my lane.  This is a bikers dream.  The road to Hope is very curvy, offers incredible views of mountain, stream and inlet.  I go as fast as I want and as slow as I want - I tailor my speed to the road and relish every moment.  I don't know if this will ever happen again, but it is happening now and I am not going to waste the moment.  It is still early in the day on this Friday and with the 'rona restrictions recently lifted I am thinking people must not be out and about yet.  Something to keep in mind for future trips. 

Almost with reluctance I see the quaint sign that announces I have arrived at my destination.  I don't stop in town just yet, I go on to the end of the road where the Porcupine Campground entrance is.  This is a lovely site and I do intend to camp here some day.  Some campsites are in deep tall birches and some are near the bluff on Turnagain Arm.  No matter which site you choose, they are all good.  There is a easy hiking trail that goes along the Arm at the end of the campground that affords a great day activity.

I make my way through the campground and head into "town" just to check the scenery again.  It never disappoints.  Hope was a "turn-of-the-century" (the 19th one) gold rush town in it's heyday.  Thousands of gold seekers landed here to find their fortune for a year or two and then moved on.  It's a common history in Alaska.  The few who where early and vested stayed on to work their mines and live their way of life they carved from this wilderness.  It's nostalgic and a "historic district" of remnant homes still stand, some of their current owners are descendants of their hardy ancestors.  The places are kept with meticulous effort, gardens, lawns and very tidy. 

I am hungry and the Cafe' is not open for another hour and is only serving "take out".  Not what I have in mind.  I decide to take my time going back and look for other offerings. 

Almost immediately I find that the population must be waking up and moving about.  There are a few cars on the road now, not a lot, probably more like usual when I come to Hope.  I am taking my time so I only pass one car as I take the winding way back to the Seward Highway. 

I am soon there and watching the rpm's on my tachometer wind up as I climb out of the 6 Mile River valley.  I am thinking I will stop at Gwin's Lodge on the way back for lunch.  Gwin's is a long established lodge on the Kenai River in the Cooper Landing area.  I have eaten here before and it is good.  I am already thinking that a bacon cheeseburger is what I am hungry for.  I can't get there too soon.  I round the corners and pass another less long established business that is incredibly popular, Wildman's.

What it lacks in aesthetics it more than makes up in rest rooms.  Plus it serves corn dogs, chicken nuggets, cheese sticks and hand scooped ice cream.  People stand in lines inside for their turn to purchase.   I move on to Gwin's as I have other ideas for lunch.  Down the road only a couple of miles Gwin's comes into view. 

It's a little more traditional than Wildman's and just what I am looking for.  I back my bike into a front parking spot and take my helmet and jacket off.  I am surely hungry.  As I look to make my way in, I see a sign, "take out only".  Hmmm.  Not what I had in mind.  As I round the corner to find the take out window, a gentleman comes out of a side door and tells me they are not ready to serve food yet (the sign said open at 12 noon) because of "technical difficulties" unspecified.  Misfire.  Hungry as ever, I mount the Ultra again and head down the road to home assured that I will not starve to death on the way as I have stored calories up against this very circumstance.  I do feel like I will be 10 pounds lighter by the time I get home. 

The trip out is different from the trip in.  Everybody is up.  Traffic and bugs.  As I make the miles home the multi spectrum of bug guts fill my face shield.  State road crews are out and holding up traffic, an Alaskan tradition.  They are painting stripes on the new asphalt and Caterpillars are landscaping the slopes that descend to the road.  I have no agenda so I am patient and figuring my 25th place in line will not allow the freedom of the road I enjoyed so much earlier in the morning.  But, it is warm and dry and I am on my bike.