Dead Porcupines, Nauti Otters and Bears, Oh My!

DEAD PORCUPINES. So J comes home from a run on the beach the other afternoon and casually mentions seeing a dead porcupine on the sand. Indigo immediately perks up and demands a venture down to check it out. Thus began our quintessential after dinner dead porcupine walk. Her cause of death remains a total mystery: quills - present and firmly attached, eyes - bright and uneaten, body - dry and unbloated. (All of this confirmed through the use of a professional dead-thing-poker-stick conveniently found next to the deceased.) We feel confident that she is now nourishing the marine life at the mouth of the Kenai River and gave her a short seaside service, conveying as much.

Is it odd that we're so darn excited about this?

Yes! A dead-thing-poker-stick!

Very mysterious.

NAUTI OTTERS. No longer needing to uphold the high standards of a grandparent visitor, we decided to stay at the Nauti Otter Hostel over the weekend for another Seward adventure. Our cabin was of extremely rustic construction (yes, if Team Leslie thinks something is rustically constructed, it is completely fair to imagine protruding nails, gaping holes and copious amounts of duct tape), oddly contrasted with a DVD player set to go with Back to the Future (Indigo is now familiar with the original use of the phrase "Flux Capacitor"). Our bathroom was an outhouse with a flush-able toilet covered in red shag rug, and the classic Alaskan jokes and stories posted throughout. A sample:

"A boy is very unhappy with his family's outhouse. It is too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter and always smells terrible. One day he decides to take action and push the outhouse into the nearby river. Later, at dinner, his father asks him if he is the culprit. The boy confesses. As his father gets out the leather belt, the boy bravely reminds his father of the story of George Washington chopping down the cherry tree. 'Father, George Washington told the truth and his father did not punish him.' 'Yes Son, but George Washington's father was not in that cherry tree.'"

A note to Gran: We put paper down on the toilet, washed our hands a bunch, and checked for bedbugs... there were only a few and they seemed friendly.

Nauti Otter lair.

Strangely cozy.

Spoiler: Bear habitat!

BEARS. While exploring said cabin upon our arrival, I opened a blind on the back window, revealing a rocky hillside covered in low vegetation very close to us. "Let's keep this open; perhaps we'll see a bear!" And moments later, a medium sized, pretty-darn-adorable, black bear came lumbering past the window... not exactly the ferocious, towering, grizzly encounter out in the wilds that some might have been waiting for, but a bear none the less! Our weekend adventure was complete. (And yes, J got in his September ski. And a bike ride. And homemade waffles... Team Leslie packs it in!)

Our bear friend.

Indigo and J at the edge of the Mt. Marathon Bowl.

YES.

Kim as Sherpa.

Russian River Trail bike ride en route to Seward.

View from the road.

Indigo collecting high alpine shells of the bullet variety (J's ski terrain behind).

Back to the Future

FLUX CAPACITOR. September has arrived which means hopefully, you got in your August ski. What? You didn't know you needed to get in your August ski? Let me explain: There exists a fanatically dedicated crew of individuals (said in the nicest way) who go skiing every month of the year. J, of course, is one of these unique people. He has logged a ski day for more than eighty consecutive months. Multiple surgeries, the birth of a child, summer - nothing had stopped J's streak... until we came to Alaska. Now August is usually one of the trickiest months anyway with hard to reach, sun-cupped, dirty snow at higher elevations. This August had the added challenges of unknown terrain, head-high bushes, and massive piles of bear scat. Remember that blueberry picking venture after we ran into the boaters near the gold mining claim? I wasn't allowed to blog about it at the time, but it was actually a failed ski attempt. And with only working week days between J and September, it looked like the Leslie household was in for a period of mourning. Just as I was about to dye our hippy-beanie-hats black, a new friend invited J on the most cockamamie scheme of our Alaska experience (on a school night):

6:00 PM "Hey, I'm still in, are you in? Sweet. See you in a few. What? Sure I can bring my bike."
7:00 PM J and friend park truck at primary trail head, put packs and skis on backs in traditional A-frame formation, and begin bike ride in to secondary trail head.
7:30 PM J and friend park bikes at secondary trail head, switch packs and skis to flux capacitor* formation, and begin ascent.
9:00 PM J and friend actually find a relatively large snow field with decent white stuff. Game on.
9:30 PM With the sun setting, J and friend ski in August. (The streak lives!)
9:45 PM J and friend cannot find trail back down. Friend realizes he has not brought a headlamp.
10:30 PM J gets enough cell reception to call Kim and say, "I think we just found the trail... but I won't be home at eleven like I thought."
10:31 PM Kim falls back asleep, happy to know that her husband is stumbling around the Alaskan wilderness in the dark with his new friend and a ridiculous amount of gear, alive and well for the moment.
1:00 AM "Honey, I'm home." "Did you get to ski?" "Yes." "Excellent." "Night night."

*NOTE: Apparently non-winter cross country travel in Alaska can pose quite a problem to those of us who like to hike with skis on our backs. They stick up too high and get caught on trees, bushes and other overhanging vegetation. Thus a very creative soul invented a different way to position one's skis to allow for more aerodynamic travel. See picture below.

Eat your heart out, Doc.

The elusive August ski.

BACK TO NH. With 150 mph wind shears shutting down flights out of Anchorage last night, it was looking like Gran was in for yet another horrible travel epic back to NH. However, after a lovely last lunch at Veronica's, we gave her covertly tearful hugs and kisses at the Kenai airport and watched the first leg of her trip fly successfully. Indigo's thoughts to me in Ice Cream Newton after Gran's departure: "Since I don't want to cry when I'm a grown up, I think I'll just choose to live near my parents." Can we get this in writing?

And although she and Indigo wore it quite a bit, Gran's silver whistle was not used to scare a bear on this trip. In fact, in a very unAlaskan turn of events, Gran never saw a living bear on her visit. She did, however, want to pass along this bear wisdom gleaned at the visitor center near Exit Glacier:

If you encounter an aggressive black bear, you may fight it.

If you encounter an aggressive brown bear, play dead.

If the brown bear begins to eat you, you may fight it.

Here are a few more Gran-in-Alaska statistics for you:

• Spotted a sea otter, a bald eagle and a moose within a twenty minute period in Homer. 
• Survived 7 days of rain and only 2 days of sun.
• Had a fisherman wave a massive halibut tail at her in greeting.
• Saw a rainbow and a glacier at the same time.
• Photographed a record number of Russian Orthodox Church steeples.
• Collected too many beach treasures to bring home ("Look guys! Doesn't this rock look like the head of a dog? Can you see it? If I turn it this way? Well I think so and I'm keeping it.").
• Loved us up like only a Mom/Grandmother can... we love you and miss you, Gran.

Kenai church

Treasure hunting on our beach.

Counting the loot.

Several generation dress for Miss Indigo.

Beach warriors.

Beach snugglers.

Ninilchik church.

Seal intestine and grass Native raincoat (with modern comparison).

Hiking twins.

We've got options.

I spy the whistle.

Glacier hiking.

Somewhere over the rainbow.