Beware of Covetousness

There is a post being shared on - where else - Facebook, about the preacher Joel Osteen owning a Ferrari automobile reported to be worth $325,000 or some like figure.  I read the comments and predictably they were pretty negative. 

Now just to let you know where I am with Joel Osteen, I don't know much about him.  I have maybe a time or two watched him on television.  I have not read his books, I don't go to any of his events.  I couldn't tell you anything about him except he lives in Houston, Texas and pastors one of the largest churches in the country.  That is as much as I know.  I am neither a fan nor a detractor. 

Back to what Joel Osteen chooses to drive.  What business is it of ours what he chooses to drive?  What makes me qualified to judge him on his choice of transportation or anything else for that matter?  I think the more important question for me is, why should it matter to me? (It doesn't).

Am I angry because he drives something I can't afford to drive?  Am I offended because he is more successful than I am?  Am I angry because I assume he spent ministry money on his fancy car?  Am I judgemental because I think preachers shouldn't have nice things, or at least nicer than what I have?  Why judge Joel Osteen at all?

Consider these passages from the Bible:

Luke 12:13-15

¹³ Then one from the crowd said to Him, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me.” ¹⁴ But He said to him, “Man, who made Me a judge or an arbitrator over you?” ¹⁵ And He said to them, “Take heed and beware of covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of the things he possesses.”

James 3:16

For where envy and self-seeking exist, confusion and every evil thing are there.

The bottom line of this is also the very ugly thing that is driving the protests and violence in our country.  The bottom line is envy and covetousness.  Check out these definitions to make sure we are all on the same page:

en·vy

noun: envy

a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck.

cov·​et·​ous | \ ˈkə-və-təs

1 : marked by inordinate desire for wealth or possessions or for another's possessions. He looked at his boss's new car with covetous eyes.

2 : having a craving for possession

Is our tendency to judge Joel Osteen born of envy or covetousness?  It's a very important question.  What exactly is wrong with Joel Osteen driving a Ferrari?  Would you feel better if he drove a mini van?  Why?  Where exactly is the line of what he should drive and what he should not drive? Who is qualified to write those rules?  Why do we appoint ourselves as the ones who should be his consultant about his preferred form of transportation? 

If you feel offended by Joel Osteen driving a Ferrari ask yourself some questions.  Did you send him some money for what you thought was for ministry and you think he instead spent it on this car?  I would suggest perhaps that you don't send him any more money if that is what you think he does with it.  If you never sent him any money, why are you upset?  Has he done wrong to you? 

Joel Osteen has written a number of best selling books.  He has presumably made a lot of money from the sales of those books.  Is he not free to spend that money as he would like?  You most likely work hard for your money, how do you feel if other people are critical of how you choose to spend the money you earn?  It is really none of their business.  I think Joel Osteen has the same right to feel it is no one else's business how he spends his money.

Jesus faced criticism from others about how money was spent on him.

Mark 14:3-9

³ And being in Bethany at the house of Simon the leper, as He sat at the table, a woman came having an alabaster flask of very costly oil of spikenard. Then she broke the flask and poured it on His head. ⁴ But there were some who were indignant among themselves, and said, “Why was this fragrant oil wasted? ⁵ For it might have been sold for more than three hundred denarii and given to the poor.” And they criticized her sharply.

⁶ But Jesus said, “Let her alone. Why do you trouble her? She has done a good work for Me. ⁷ For you have the poor with you always, and whenever you wish you may do them good; but Me you do not have always. ⁸ She has done what she could. She has come beforehand to anoint My body for burial. ⁹ Assuredly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her.”

This fragrant oil, "very costly" was wasted on Jesus!  Just think, this money could have fed many poor people.  The money should have been given to missions!  The outrage! 

Surprise!  Jesus instead commends the woman for what she did.  Does Jesus catch us off guard here?  Shouldn't he be offended by this woman's generosity and act of devotion?  The truth of the matter is the outrage was not over the money not going to the poor but was fueled by envy and covetousness.

John records the true motive masked by the noble outrage:

John 12:5,6

⁵ “Why was this fragrant oil not sold for three hundred denarii and given to the poor?” ⁶ This he [Judas Iscariot] said, not that he cared for the poor, but because he was a thief, and had the money box; and he used to take what was put in it.

Ah, there it is.  Sometimes we are offended and outraged because we want what others have.  Or, we at least think they should not have it because we do not have it.  Think about your situation, someone can be offended by the nice car you drive, or your house that is bigger, or your boat or plane or your nicer clothes, or, or...  We all are in the place of being judged for some perceived favor, advantage or choice that we make.  It's all a trade off.  We have something nice because we chose to cut back in another area or saved or worked hard so we could enjoy something special. 

My thoughts?  Leave Joel Osteen alone.  He doesn't answer to us.  He answers to Jesus just like we do.  Our righteous indignation does not add or detract from what Jesus thinks of Joel getting his groceries in a Ferrari. 

The COVID Chronicles: Riding to Seward during a pandemic

Ha, it was no big deal!  It was like every other time I have ridden to Seward - excellent.  It just lends some drama to mention "pandemic" and since I don't have a lot of drama to add, I thought it would just add some interest to the title.  Sorry.

My fellow pastor friend, Jon just bought himself a motorcycle.  He's a grown man and can make his own decisions, but I like to think I kept up the enthusiasm for him buying his own bike to some degree.  I would send him ads for bikes for sale and talk about how fun it is (which it is) and make sure he saw my posted bike pictures on Facebook.  Maybe I didn't have much to do with it, but at the end of the day, he has a bike.  It's a nice bike, Honda VTX, the 1300 cc model.  I almost bought that very bike just before I found my first Harley Davidson.  He did it right, he bought the bike, signed up for riding classes (3 days worth) and asked a lot of questions about riding gear and whatnot. 

We took a short ride up Funny River Road,14 miles not long after he bought the bike.  It has a few curves and hills but its mostly a nice, not busy little ride that is a nice warm up for longer rides.  It served to keep him motivated about the next bike ride. 

Just a few days go by and he is inviting me to ride with a few men from his church to Seward.  Yes, I would like to go.  So it is set up for mid Sunday afternoon on July 5, the day after 4th of July.  It might not have been the best planning for this reason.  Since the COVID restrictions, Alaskans, like everybody else have been dying to get outside.  Motorhome sales are through the roof, boat sales are through the roof, travel trailer sales are through the roof, you get the idea.  On any holiday weekend the population of the state's largest city tends to descend upon the Kenai Peninsula, this 4th of July even more so.  The point being that as the Monday work day looms, all of the weekend warriors begin their migration back to Anchor Town clogging the highway. 

As I pull onto the Sterling Highway, it is in fact full of large lumbering motorhomes, monster trucks pulling long trailers loaded with multiple 4 wheel off road transportation, trailers with boats sprouting nets and halibut poles like spiny urchins, and little Subaru's with kayaks on top, loaded to the gills with sleeping bags and tents.  I pull into traffic and follow the flow to just north of Soldotna to Big John's Chevron.  I am the first to arrive.  No big surprise here.  I am always the first to arrive.  It is part of my DNA in being a pastor's kid.  We always got to the church before anyone else and stayed until everyone else left.  It's still my pattern.  Even when I am at someone else's church and not in charge or speaking, I just have to get there early and pretty much stay there until everyone is gone.  I can't help it.

Soon another biker pulls up next to me.  This is Randy.  He is a classic looking biker.  Wearing a biker bandana on his head, white handlebar moustache, leather vest, riding a Harley Wide Glide with custom paint.  We visit while we wait.  Not long after Randy's arrival, Sam arrives on his Suzuki Boulevard, a big road bike.  Aaron pulls up on his BMW dual sport and then Pastor Jon arrives on his Honda VTX.  We are a pretty diverse looking group but we are all up for the same thing, a ride to Seward on our bikes. 

We compare some notes, plan to take a break at Tern Lake before continuing on to our chosen destination.  We merge into a break in the traffic.  I have been selected to lead as my bike has cruise control.  This is nice as it keeps the group together better instead of the leader creeping the speed up little by little as you go down the road.  It's really hard to keep a steady speed on a motorcycle, so the cruise control helps regulate that. 

I find the prevailing speed of the traffic and set my cruise control.  Traffic is moving along quite nicely actually and we get down the road at a decent pace.  Leading a group is much different than riding by yourself, especially if you haven't ridden together before.  Not knowing the riding experience of the other riders I decide that we won't pass slow moving vehicles as it will be easier to keep the group together in the busy traffic.  Once we get to Tern Lake, the Sterling highway will T into the Seward Highway, I am betting 90% of the traffic will turn north and we will turn south.  We ride patiently knowing soon the road will be ours.

We arrive at Cooper Landing with the herd and pass Wildman's which is a hornet's nest of activity with every description of truck and trailer, motorhomes, cars and campers all jockeying for position in the long and narrow parking lot.  We don't feel like adding motorcycles to the mix and just keep on going by.  Wildman's is located just south of a completely blind corner.  I am amazed more accidents don't happen there but I don't want to start the trend right now. 

With no undue drama we arrive at Tern Lake.  It takes right at an hour to get here from Soldotna.  A rule of thumb is to take a break from riding every hour.  That's somewhere around 50 miles or a little more.  It has been an hour and the idea of stretching our legs sounds really good. 

We pull up together and park our bikes, dismount stiff-leggedly and begin to walk around a bit.  It's a great excuse to pull some snacks out of the tour pak.  Beef jerky it is.  Several in the group take some to chew on and we gather for an awkward selfie to memorialize the trip.

A nice Russian lady sees us lamely attempting to get our own picture and offers to take it for us.  Sure!  Thank you!  She takes some off center pictures with several of our phones.

She then tells us that she is a reporter for the largest Russian language newspaper in Portland, OR.  I don't know how many Russian language newspapers there are in Portland, but good enough.  Now she wants to know what we think of all of the Black Lives Matter riots, monument and memorial defacing and "protests" going on in the US.  She chooses Jon to give the answers as she videos him on her iPhone 11.  Jon gives some dialogue and she seems to be satisfied and bids us "good luck" in her thick Russian accent. 

We mount our bikes and start them with the popping and drumming sounds that all of those tailpipes emit.  It is literally only 100 yards to the T and just our luck, not one car, motorhome or monster truck has turned south.  We get to the front of the line and have the road completely to ourselves.  It is beautiful.  There is temptation to up the speed a little but I know that the "thin blue line" will be out in force this weekend doing their job, so we keep it in line.  Occasionally there are a few vehicles in the northbound lane making their way home from their weekend in Seward.  In our lane, just open highway.  It is so nice.

Soon, we arrive at the community of Moose Pass which has a strict 35 mph speed limit from just outside of town not only on the official speed limit signs but painted on the road itself. The 35 mph speed limit proceeds through town and just to the other side of town which we observe.  It's a good thing because the thin blue line is having a chat with someone wasn't observing the signs right where the limit goes from 35 to 45 mph.  Soon we are back up to road speed and passing beautiful scenery like the Trail Lakes.  There are people laying on air mattresses in the near freezing water and I honk my silly sounding horn on my bike as we pass and I wave to them.  Honestly, I don't know why Harley Davidson puts such an un-manly sounding horn on their flagship motorcycles. It sounds more appropriate to my grandson's bike with training wheels.  I suppose Harley Davidson's clever marketing strategy is to embarrass their buyers to the point of upgrading to the more manly sounding (more expensive) version.  I've almost done it a time or two, but I just swallow my pride and keep my money in my pocket.

We soon emerge alongside Kenai Lake which is fabulous scenery.  The road here is fun as it snakes tightly against the mountainside and lake.  Not a lot of margin here to run off the road, it is either steep straight up or down.  As we take the nice curves, I know my favorite section of the road is coming up.  There is a sweeping right hand curve from the uphill approach that turns into the bridge that crosses the Snow River which empties into Kenai Lake.  It is banked ever so perfectly and I can't resist.  At the top of the hill I put the hammer down, shifting into my last gear and indulge myself in the moment.  Soon I am across the bridge and the group is in the far distance behind me.  I purposely slow to allow them to catch up and we proceed on.

This section of the highway is grandly scenic. There are still snow capped peaks, lush forests, lily pad choked ponds and four lanes.  It is so enjoyable on a bike, plus it is steep going up and then steep on the long descent into Seward. 

Speaking of Seward, we have arrived.  A large lighted portable highway sign informs us that Seward is now requiring COVID masks inside every public building.  Seward has had a big increase in positive COVID tests and the city fathers are concerned.  I am a bit concerned myself as I forgot to even bring a mask and I am hungry.  I can't let a little COVID stand between me and dinner! 

We are saved.  There was a little outdoor BBQ place right on the side of the road as you enter town.  Good enough I think, and I lead the group into the BBQ parking lot.  It sure smells good even inside my helmet.  We all pull in and park our bikes.

The menu is tacked on the posts of the little sheltered eating area.  The prices are not bad which is a surprise, summer prices in little towns like this can really get high as the business owners rake the tourists who have money to burn.  I can't blame them, it is their one chance to make it before the long less income months of fall and winter.  I select the combination meal for $12.  I get a brisket sandwich, a side of coleslaw and a tea.  I am asked if I want jalapeno's and coleslaw on my sandwich.  Sure! I reply.  I guess I didn't see the fine print because those two choices up the price $2.  With the tip, I pay $16.  I wanted to tell them they should comp me the meal as I, like a bus driver, lead the group to their establishment.  Oh well, I am hungry and the meal is delivered in the open air eating area quickly.  It is good. 

Seward is quite chilly tonight.  It is clear we are in for a change of weather and the wind has come up and the temperature has dropped.  The day before, the 4th of July I actually managed to get my knees sunburned sitting in the 75 degree sun.  High clouds began moving in about mid day and it looks like it could actually rain on the way home.  I rode to Seward wearing my leathers, a long sleeved t-shirt and a leather vest.  It felt just fine.  However, I am thinking my leather riding coat feels like the right choice for the ride home. 

We all finish our meals and head to the harbor area as we begin our journey home. 

We use the public facilities and get on our bikes when Jon mentions we should ride up to the Exit Glacier road.  I haven't been up that road in many years so I think it's a good idea too.  We ride the 7 miles in at the posted speed limits of 25, 35 and 45 miles per hour.  It is a beautiful ride, I forget how beautiful it is up at the Exit Glacier.  It is also substantially warmer and I almost think it was a mistake to have donned my riding jacket.  We get to the visitors center and stop for a moment.  

We passed a photo pull out on the way in and we agree to stop there and take some pictures.

It is getting a bit late in the evening by now and our thoughts are pretty much about getting home.  The traffic has fortunately remained almost nonexistent.  The climb out of Seward is beautiful and as we eventually turn back onto the Sterling Highway both lanes are nearly empty of traffic.  We stop after an hour at Wildman's which has quieted down considerably for a snack and a coffee while we rest ourselves.

We agree that on the way home we will all peel off wherever is closest to where we live so there will be no need to backtrack or have a formal farewell.  The trip back is on mostly recently improved highway, wider and newer, it makes room for everyone with better visibility and passing lanes.  Not long and I am by myself, the last one to get home.  I take the long route as I want to go via Bridge Access Road which crosses the beautiful flats at the mouth of the Kenai River.  The grasses that grow there are at their peak, green/yellow hues intersected by the Kenai River with the mountains as the backdrop.  After living here 32 years, the view never gets old. 

Soon I am on the final leg home feeling good about the ride and escaping the dread COVID virus once again.

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.

POW! Getting Ready

Early in the spring  of 2019, I found out about a great opportunity.  Our Alaska Chi Alpha ministry (Assemblies of God university campus ministry) was given a week to use a charter fishing lodge to raise funds.  All they had to do was fill the week with donors and let them fish to their hearts content.  As soon as I found out about it, I was in!  It was a "bucket list" kind of opportunity that I have wanted to experience for a long time.  Since turning 60 years old recently, I figure it is time to start crossing off those "want to's" off the list.  This was a big one.

It was easy to justify as, 1. It was for missions!  All the money goes to Alaska university missions outreach.  Justified right there.  2. I called a good friend and urged him to go and he signed right on.  I was going to spend some time with quality people, my friend and the leaders of our Alaska Chi Alpha.  3. Fishing!  A whole week of it.  On Prince Of Wales Island in Southeast Alaska (POW)!  I have never been to POW before but had heard much about it from people who had.  I was excited.  I call it #winwinwin.

So, I had a couple of months to ponder what kind of equipment to bring while I anticipated the adventure.  If you subscribe to the theory, "there is no bad weather, only bad gear", you know that the gear you bring can make or break your experience.  Being cold, wet or too hot can all diminish the enjoyment of a great outing, so having the limited amount of gear and that I have, I wanted to put together the best and most applicable stuff I have.

There is a lot to consider.  First, what am I going to actually carry all that gear in?  Am I going to roll my suitcase around at a remote fishing camp?  Is it going to get wet sitting in a puddle of water in the bottom of a boat with a bunch of dead fish or in the back of a pickup in the rain?  Lots of unknowns.

What am I going to wear?  I like cotton jeans to wear, but when wet, they bind and offer no warmth.  Plus, when I eventually spill food on them (for some reason mustard is a frequent spill), they just stay dirty for the rest of the time.  They don't have laundromats in fish camps, do they?  So, I had to come up with some pants to wear.

Shirts are another critical consideration as well.  What to wear that will provide some warmth, even if wet?  Also, easy to clean since I am wanting to pack light.  Synthetic materials are a must and some even have odor defeating treatments that can make you easier to be around.

Gear.  Rain is a likely element to deal with.  On Prince of Wales, they get over 200" of rain each year, so it is likely some of the days we will see rain.  Something waterproof to cover myself is a must.

What about a firearm?  If I do some freshwater stream fishing (part of the appeal of POW) not all the fishermen walk upright on two feet.  I have the answer for that question.  My Super Redhawk Alaskan in .44 magnum will provide a margin of safety if there is a dispute about who belongs on a stream with one of the more hairy residents of POW.  By the way, POW has one of the highest densities of black bears in the world.  No brown bears on this island which is surprising.  It is documented that black bears have killed more humans than their bigger cousins, the brown bear.  I feel good about bringing the SRA even if it is a bit of a boat anchor to lug around.  I chose this particular model as it was what a friend of mine used when he was charged by a large male brown bear just a few years ago.  Without it, he most likely would not have lived to tell the tale.  It is an additional hassle to bring it along, double locked hard side cases, declaring it at airport check ins, picking it up at baggage claim, ID, TSA, etc., but, it would better to have it than not if it was needed.

Fishing poles and tackle.  Now this is a fishing lodge and they do provide fishing poles and tackle, but they do not provide my preferred fly fishing rods or tackle.  All of the saltwater fishing and tackle and bait is covered, so are spinning rods for freshwater, but I want to fly fish.  POW has a legendary run of steelhead trout and sea-run cutthroat trout.  Both species are high on my list to catch.  So, I select two rods, a 5 wt. and an 7 wt. with appropriate reels.  I have a huge selection of wooly buggers, beadheads, egg sucking leaches, beads and glow bugs to throw at any thing in the water so all of that goes in the pile of gear.

Socks, underwear, t-shirts, and oh, they have a jacuzzi hot tub!  Swim shorts go in the pile as well.

Knives, cameras, handheld GPS, and a Leatherman folding pliers make up the hardware pile.  Now I love knives so it is difficult to select just a single knife.  There are so many for such diverse uses.  I try to keep it to half a dozen with a sharpening steel thrown in as well.

I make lists to be sure I don't forget anything important.  I look over my outdoor gear to see if it is in good repair or if it triggers a thought that I might have need of it.  Understand, some of this is my love of anything gadgety, and by taking it on this trip, it would justify that I have it.  One can feel a little guilty or sheepish if you have gear you have never used, but have it "just in case".  I resign to the fact that I can't bring everything I would like to bring.  I would need the Queen of Sheba's entourage and caravan to carry it all.  Besides, I have this contradictory desire.  I want to be an ultralight traveler.  Weird, I know.  I have a love of all things neat and handy but I want to carry a backpack of only two pounds.  I have a lot of thinking to do and decisions to make.

I go shopping to get some of the stuff I'll need and where I live, the second hand store is the place to start.  I need the right kind of bag to carry all of my bulky gear.  I score.  At the second hand store is a extra large waterproof duffle bag with pack straps that I could crawl into to use as a boat if necessary.  The price?  $18.  Condition?  Brand new, never used.  I look it up online: $169.  I love the second hand store.  A couple of days later my wife and I stop by a random garage sale.  A brand new back pack is scored for $10 and a waterproof back pack for $8, new as well.  I have my traveling gear.

By the time it is the night before I leave, I have selected 40 pounds of stuff to go in my extra large waterproof duffle, which included wading boots, chest waders, fly reels and tackle, sandals, the aforementioned boat anchor, knives, rain gear and my coat.  Also stuffed in are the waterproof backpack, empty at this point and some of my gadgets.  Ready or not, here I come.  I fill the new backpack with just my clothes for the week, and some snacks.  Getting hungry would not be a good thing on a bucket list adventure.

A Spring Ride

It was a rare day in the spring of 2019, the sky was blue and sunny though the temperature had not risen higher than 54 degrees all day.  The sun starvation of our long winter was making me antsy in the church office.  My staff must have sensed my antsy-ness as they urged me to take the afternoon off to go riding.  I told them I had to go to the post office and I would "pray about it" and if the Lord told me to take the rest of the day off, I would.  I knew before I left I was not coming back.

I had been coming out of a bout of sickness that was hanging on and on so my energies were not up to par, but I was very interested in getting on my bike and getting out of town for even a few hours.  With the hit and miss weather we had been experiencing this spring, my obligations as usual lined up on the few nice breaks in the weather and my free time always seemed to come when things were cold and wet.  I was going to take advantage of my moment.

Not being on a bike for some time, one should take extra precautions to get reacquainted with the bike, traffic, and road conditions.  So I chose the road less traveled for those reasons and headed out.  It's a funny thing that when I head out on a day trip I usually don't have a destination in mind.  I kind of let the road be the decision maker.  If the traffic is busy one way, I'll go the other.  If the clouds look forbidding in the direction I was going to go, I'll go the opposite direction.  Today, the traffic and weather were all at comfortable levels so I considered that the road construction going north would have too much stop and go so, I decided south would be the thing to do.

There really are no bad decisions when it comes to destinations where I live.  The scenery is fabulous wherever you decide to end up.  One of the frustrations of writing about my riding is the limited amount of pictures I can plug into my blog.  Riding a motorcycle tends to occupy your hands, (at least one of them) so taking pictures isn't really a possibility unless you stop frequently to safely get a picture.  As a result, most of the pictures I take are at the beginning and end of a trip, or at gas stations and once in awhile on a long trip, a rest stop.  So the brunt of the descriptions are the creative use of words to convey the idea.

It isn't until about five o'clock that I am ready to pull out of my driveway and head somewhere.  I have already decided to go south.  How far south?  There is Kasilof, Clam Gulch, Ninilchik, Anchor Point and Homer.  Each place takes at least 20 minutes to get from one to the other with Homer at the end of the road being an hour and a half away.  I pull out still undecided as to my final destination.

I am soon on Kalifonsky Beach Road and turn my Ultra Glide south.  It is running exceptionally fine.  This is the first real ride since I had it tuned up last fall.  New tires, spark plugs, oil change and all the fussy adjustments with clutches and cables, cams and cogs.  As the still somewhat weak power of the sun begins to warm me as I ride, I think I would be a fool not to go all the way to Homer today.  What if this is the only opportunity I get?  I make the decision to go to Homer.  With that settled, I switch on the cruise control and set my speed.

I am not in any particular hurry today, usually I ride a little faster, but I am savoring the moment, not trying to make speed and distance.  I want to just let the things that build up in my head be dragged away by the wind as I take in the scenery.

It isn't but 20 minutes or so until I intersect with the Sterling Highway near Kasilof and turn further south.  There are a couple of stop and go construction projects but they are doing a pretty good job about keeping the traffic moving.  Everywhere in Alaska they are removing old, small, salmon blocking culverts and replacing them with ginormous culverts that allow a more natural flow of the stream and do not block fish from moving further up their natal streams when they are there to spawn.  It's great for the fish and for Alaska so I am patient with it.

The scenery is at it's best today.  The humidity must be low as there is no "haze" obscuring the view.  The waters reflect the perfectly blue sky in a mesmerizing azure hue that is deeply intense.  Cook Inlet often looks "muddy" due to the silty glacial tide flats the that surround it.  Today it is beautiful.

The traffic is light and the few vehicles I encounter I pass easily and quickly with a short twist of the throttle after a quick downshift and then back to cruising speed.  I slow as I go through Ninilchik and then twenty minutes later, Anchor Point.  It is at Anchor Point I decide at the last minute to pull off the Sterling Highway and turn on to the Old Sterling Highway for a 9 mile diversion.  This narrow, old, twisty section of road was once the main highway.  I have no idea when they rerouted it, but it is easy to understand why.  The thing with narrow, old, twisty roads is that motorcyclists love them.  Generally, they are less traveled. you get to see different scenery than the main highway and you get to lean into your turns.  And lean I do.  I love it.  (Fun fact: Anchor Point is the most westerly point you can drive in the northern hemisphere on a connected road.)

When I emerge to rejoin the main Sterling Highway I am not far from Homer.  As you approach Homer, you realize the highway has been following a ridge that is a few hundred feet higher in elevation than Homer itself.  At the top of this ridge, is a "point of interest" with a large parking area, beautiful plantings donated by the Homer Garden Club and that "million dollar view" that people come the world around to see for themselves.  I can't not stop.  I have seen the view more times that I could ever recount, but I have to see it again on this day.  It does not disappoint.  What does disappoint is my iPhone's camera's ability to capture the view with justice.  It is a great day for viewing as Kachemak Bay is also haze free and the mountains feel ten times closer than they appear in the camera lens.  I assure you, it is fabulous.  My squinty-eyed selfie is testament to the sun and brightness of the day.  The break and the view was nice but I can't come this far without going to "land's end" and the end of the Homer Spit.  

Now I glide down "Homer Hill" into town and take the Homer city bypass and go directly out to the Homer Spit.  The term "spit" must sound strange to people who don't live here.  The "spit" is a narrow strip of land that extends into the bay, the Homer Spit being about 7 miles long.  It really shouldn't be there but for some reason it is and it makes for a great harbor, charter fishing boats, sea food restaurants, and little shops that sell hand made fuzzy sweaters and tie dye shirts.  It is a great destination and come July at peak season, it will be teeming with tourists.  I don't have any reason to linger except to take in the view, so I stop briefly at the end of the spit to take another inadequate picture.

 It is somewhat past dinner time and my hunger is making itself less easy to ignore so I decide to sate myself cheaply since I don't like to spend much on a big meal eating alone.  McDonald's chicken tenders it is.  Now you may wince at that choice, but again, the Homer McDonald's has probably the best view of any McDonald's anywhere.

I relax and slowly eat my chicken tenders and cruise a little Facebook and let my saddle weary backside catch a break.  First rides are always a little bit that way.  I know by the time I get home I will really be looking forward to getting off the Ultra.

As I step outside, I immediately sense that the air temperature is falling.  It was only 54 degrees at the peak of the day so anything less than that is going to feel a bit chilly.  I don my heavier gloves and my neck warmer in addition to my other riding gear and power out of the McDonald's parking lot.  I begin to ascend Homer Hill and run my gears to their best effect.  I love the power to weight ratios on big cruising bikes, you feel the mild g-forces set you back in your seat and you fly up the steep hill in what seems like a lighter than air moment.

The temperature certainly has fallen but I feel pretty good in my increased layers.  The return trip home is smooth and almost traffic free, something that will be increasingly less so in the weeks to come as the ponderous motorhomes and pickup trucks hauling boats will crowd the insufficient Sterling Highway.  By the time I turn into my driveway, the sun is still high overhead at 8 pm.  I love the land of the midnight sun!

I back the Ultra into its spot in the garage and begin to unwrap myself from the layers of leather and  polar fleece.  I feel satisfyingly at peace with the world.

Riding To Hope

It was one of those days where I had a couple of options, do something I felt obligated to do on my day off or something I wanted to do.  The summer of 2017 hasn't been a banner summer on Alaska's Kenai Peninsula.  Lots of less than stellar days and the few really nice days more often seem to occur on days I was, well, obligated to something that was not my first choice.  This morning the sun was out, the temperature was agreeable and I had to choose.

June and July had flown by in mere moments it seemed.  Here it was the closing days of July and I hadn't really done anything that celebrated the summer much.  Staring out the window asking myself, "what's it gonna be?" I dug down deep and stared obligation in the eye and didn't blink.  I am going for a ride.  Obligations aside, I am going to do something for me today.  I feel the need for this.

Wasting no time once the decision was made, I topped off my Harley Ultra Glide, reset the trip meter and donned my leathers.  I rolled that heavy road bike out of the garage and pressed the starter button and with a cough that 96 cubic inch V-Twin broke into that world famous shaking rumble as it began to warm up.  I pulled on my gloves, fastened my helmet and put on my sunglasses.  Sitting astride the Ultra I pulled the clutch lever all the way in, tapped the gear shift lever and heard the clunk that lets you know you are in gear.

I am on my way, not sure of my destination yet, but as I make my way through Soldotna I decide I will ride north as I rode south to Homer on the only other local ride of the summer.   I think through the possible destinations I could make going north.  As I make my way through the dip netter traffic in Soldotna, I mentally cross Seward off the list of possibilities since I was there last week on another trip in my car.  Anchorage is a little far than would be practical and Portage or Girdwood would mean I might have to deal with the motor homes and boat trailers all day.  Hope.  Hope it is.  I haven't been to Hope in a few years and that is where I decide to go.

Hope isn't much of a destination mind you.  It is the road that beckons.  Less traffic, more bends and turns, beautiful scenery make the journey an attractive one.  I am in the mood.

I maneuver through the ponderous caravans of elephant-like motor homes traveling at the speed of turtles, eventually pass pickup trucks towing boats of all types, most of the boats sprouting recently used dip nets waving in the wind like flags and at last I am at the head of the pack with nothing but highway in front of me.  I like to be in front mostly because it is the safest place to be.  Traveling behind one of those skyscraper high motor homes is like staring at a block wall for hours.  You can't see ahead and detect problems, road conditions or brake lights or things of this nature.

I ease the throttle up through the last two gears of my bike and I pull away from the pack.  For awhile.  Until I catch up with the next caravan of ponderous motor homes.  I am patient and keep my place in line until we eventually reach the community of Cooper Landing.  I love riding my bike through Cooper Landing.  It is right on the banks of the upper Kenai River.  The flora thrives through this corridor and the fragrance of the leaves, grass and wild flowers is a pungent, pleasant aroma.  I open the face shield of my helmet as I ride and breathe in deeply.  It is almost intoxicating.

What comes up not far from Cooper Landing is one of the best sections of highway for a bike rider on the Peninsula.  I do not want to ride it behind a stodgy line of lumbering vehicles.  I am going to employ a trick to enable me to ride this section of the highway as it was meant to be ridden.  I am going to pull off the highway and wait for about 10 minutes.  If I can get it right, we have at least that much of a lead on the caravan I passed early on and it will give enough time for the line of slow moving cars I am behind now a chance to be clear of the section of road I want to indulge myself in.

Besides, pulling off at Cooper Landing is a treat in itself.  The day is extraordinarily beautiful and the river is its usual turquoise, glorious self.  I enjoy the subtle breeze, the fragrance wafting by and the chance just to sit and take in sights people come from the far flung corners of the world to gaze upon.  It is a cherished moment.

I spend a little longer than I planned and decide to get back to the road.  I pull back onto the Sterling Highway and congratulate myself.  I am a genius.  There is no traffic in sight.  I cross the Kenai Lake bridge and round the bend that continues to follow the shore of the lake.  I enjoy every unobstructed curve and bend in the road.  It was glorious.  I pass Sunrise, a even smaller community with a restaurant and gas pump where the way north breaks into two lanes.  I pass the few cars that are in front of me with ease and continue on to the Hope Cutoff which now is not far away.

At the end of the Sterling Highway there is an intersection with the Seward Highway.  At that intersection is one of the most striking viewing areas anywhere.  Tern Lake fills this small spot that is surrounded by tall peaks on every side.  I want to stop, but most of the caravan I was trailing before has pulled off and I assume  will be getting back on the road soon.  I decide I will enjoy the views on my return trip.

I make my stop at the intersection, look both ways and pull onto the Seward Highway heading north and uphill.  I wind through the gears again and find my sweet spot between speed and rpms.  I may sound like I am some kind of speed demon to you.  I am not.  I am over going fast.  Even when I am taking corners and curves I find the best balance between speed and the abilities of my bike.  After all, I am not riding a Japanese crotch rocket, I am riding a heavy touring bike and it rides best when you aren't pushing it to its limits all the time.  I will say that I tend to find the "sweet spot" of my cruising somewhere north of posted speed limits, but not too far north.

I pass upper Summit Lake and then Lower Summit Lake.  I am nearing the area that once was a gold mining community called Sunrise but now does not exist.  I gear down and make my turn from the Seward Highway on to the Hope Cutoff.  I am smiling behind my full face helmet.  This little road, only 16 miles long is a bikers dream.  Low on traffic, scenic, tight, twisty and full of that pungent fragrance that only overgrown brush on the sides of the road can produce.  Plus, there are lots and lots of signs like this:

I am in heaven.  There are no vehicles of any size in front of me which allows me the luxury of taking those serpentine curves at my discretion unhindered.  This is so rare for this to ever happen.  I indulge myself once again.  Near mile 14 or so, the views become amazing.  I have to stop and look as rubber necking just cannot do justice to what can be seen.

The views are of Turnagain Arm, a treacherous body of water that is long, narrow and shallow.  Turnagain Arm is 21 miles long.  It has so much water to move between low and high tides that the currents are quite dangerous.  I have seen stranded whales and have read terrifying accounts of loss of life of people who ventured out onto the quicksands at low tides.  Often the incoming tide will come as a miles wide wave, two or more feet high.  This is known as a "bore tide" which occurs only two places in the entire world.  I park the bike in a pull out and clamber over a guardrail to gain a better vantage to take some photos with my entirely inadequate iPhone camera.  I am rewarded with ripe raspberries secretly hiding below the tall brush.  I eat all I can find and enjoy superbly ripe wild raspberry flavor.  So good.

I am nearing the community of Hope so I take the next couple of miles slower.  Hope is one of many "end of the road" destinations on the peninsula.  I don't know if people who live in more developed civilization can relate to this.  Several communities on the peninsula are at the end of the road, meaning you can't drive anywhere else from where you are.  The road just simply ends.

I drive to the end of the road and a simple sign declares you are there.  Just beyond the "End" sign is a campground.  For whatever reason, in the few times I have been to Hope in the past, I have never taken the time to investigate this campground.  What I find is perhaps the most scenic campground I have ever visited in the state of Alaska.  It has to be in the top 5 anyway.  There are many designated camping spots with phenomenal views, most of them available.

I am amazed I have never really heard how good this campground is.  Maybe no one else knows of it either?  It is the best kept secret as far as I am concerned.

I make my campground survey complete and head into Hope.  Not far from the end of the road is the only "gas station" I can find.  My suspicion is that they don't sell a lot of gas in Hope.  I wonder where the residents run for gas as Hope is a long way from the next nearest gas station.  I am glad the range on my Ultra will get me the 200 miles from home and back without filling up.

This gas station reminds me of many gas stations I knew as a kid growing up in pre-pipeline era Alaska.  The tank truck looks like it may have been new during the Eisenhower administration.

I continue into town.

Hope claims to be "the best preserved gold rush era town in Alaska."  It just might be.  Through the main part of town are many period buildings, well maintained and many of them year around residences.  The lawns are well kept and most of them have historical plaques with their histories and dates of origination.

I come around "B" street to Main Street and head to the business district of Hope.

There are a few tourists here.  Hope gets a strong run of "pinks" or "chum" salmon in the Hope river that runs through town.  No self respecting Alaskan would actually fish for pinks, they are only accidental by-catch that are hastily returned to the water with as little touching the fish as possible.  Alaskans detest the soft, pale flesh, the slimy, slimy, slimy nature of the fish and to many Alaskans who tend to be salmon snobs, they stink. Tourists?  They don't care.  The pinks bite rabidly, put up a heck of a fight pound for pound and the supply seems endless.

Even if you don't like to fish for pinks, the views will make you want to stay for a week.  I wish my iPhone camera could do the views justice.

I am hungry.  The Discovery Cafe is the only game in town today, today being Monday.  All the other eating establishments are not open.  That's OK, the Discovery Cafe had a killer bacon cheeseburger the last time I visited AND they make homemade pie.  I am set for some of that.

I walk inside and pick up a menu.  The place has changed hands since I was here last.  The menu now offers "quiche" and "lemon grass salad."  No bacon anything in sight.  Fortunately the host is occupied with a customer and I slip out without trying any quiche.  I decide I will eat later.  I start my bike again and head out of town and back up the Hope Cutoff.

The return trip south has less traffic than on the way in.  The other lane heading north, is one unending line of traffic.  The weekend warriors are heading home.  I am glad I was ahead of that bunch.  I press on and near the Sterling Highway intersection I pull off one more time to try to squeeze Tern Lake into the tiny lens of my iPhone.

The sun is at the wrong angle so I don't get any drama but hopefully you get the idea.  I am still a little hungry so I plan on pulling off at the one stop everyone pulls in at in Cooper Landing, Wildman's.  It is actually just a sort of rural Alaska 7/11.  Wildman's does have the best rest rooms between Soldotna and Anchorage so it is popular with the wives which is excellent marketing genius from Mr. Wildman.

I select chicken fingers and a coffee which comes to 8 bucks.  I would rather eat chicken fingers than quiche and pay less too.  I savor the coffee and contemplate the day.  Good decision to make this ride today.  I probably won't get a finer day to do this until next summer.