Living in Paradise

Well, my wife and I did get married in August. The funny thing about it is that I did not actually meet her until five days before our wedding. Our courtship was entirely online and on the phone. Some of our friends were amazed; others were doubtful. However, I love my wife deeply, enjoy being with her and could not imagine life now without her.

After we married in Anchorage, we honeymooned in Seward for two nights (try the Falls Inn B&B, it's wonderful), then spent two nights in Anchorage before she flew home to Missouri. I packed and shipped my worldly goods to Missouri, then left on the road on my motorcycle to meet her. I spent 5 days traveling through Alaska, Canada, and the lower 48 to reach her. It was my 5th time riding through Canada, and I always enjoy it.

Now her job has brought us to Hawaii, were we shall probably be for the next 3-5 years. It's her dream location. She has been here before on vacation, on Maui, and wanted to return for an upcoming birthday - now she will be living here and has to select somewhere else to go.

As time goes by, I'll continue to post to this blog about our time here, and try to give a good description about what it is like to live in "paradise."

The Summer Doldrums

July is going to be a long month. In August, my fiancee finally flies up here from Missouri, which sets a number of things in motion. Originally it was to be a visit, a chance for us to get to know one another and for her to see some of Alaska. We have since decided to elope during her visit, and I will then move from Anchorage back to her home. It promises to be an exciting month.

But waiting through July will be miserable.

Homer

Back on June 27th, I rode down to Homer, Alaska, to meet my friend Sean. Sean and his wife Tia were in Homer to attend a friend's wedding that week. Sean used it as an opportunity to ride his new (to him) Sportster some distance. He asked if I would ride down and meet him, and we would ride back to Anchorage together.

Homer is about 225 miles south of Anchorage on the Kenai Peninsula. To get there, you take the Seward Highway south, then take the Sterling Highway east to Soldotna, then south to Homer.


So I left early so I could have breakfast at Summit Lake Lodge in Moose Pass on the way down. When I lived up here in the 90s, Summit Lake Lodge was a common stop for lunch riding down to or back from Seward. Breakfast was eggs with reindeer sausage.


Keith's BMW R80 parked in front of Summit Lake Lodge on the Seward Highway on the way to Homer for the day.

My friend Tina wanted to ride along, so we linked up in Sterling, about 10 miles east of Soldotna. Leaving Sterling, I quickly realized I had a problem - my bike was firing on only one cylinder. We pulled into Kenai Peninsula Harley-Davidson in Soldotna to see if I could troubleshoot the problem. I had fuel and spark, but after about a half hour I could not trace the problem. Some Harley riders were there for a ride, and one rider walked over, listened for a few seconds, and stated "you're leaking spark." He said he could hear it cracking; he was right, I had a cracked lead in the spark plug and the spark was jumping from the wire sheath to the cylinder without firing the spark plug. The techs at the Harley shop recommended heading down the road a couple of miles to the auto parts store to find a wire that would work - there is no BMW motorcycle shop in Soldotna. The fols there were wonderful, and allowed me to search through their stock of wires in their backroom to find one that would work. Second wire I picked up - success! $2 later, we were back on the road.



Replacement automotive spark plug wire adapted for use on Keith's BMW R80.

We then headed down to Homer. We met Sean at the hotel he was staying at, then proceeded down to the Homer Spit. The Spit extends out into the sound, and has a number of shops, restaurants and such. It also has the town's marina, and a ferry terminal for the Alaska Marine Highway System.










Sean and Tina at the end of the Homer Spit. The fishermen are fishing for salmon that are running in from the ocean to spawn in local creeks and rivers.

Since we were next to the ocean, I had to stop at a restaurant on the Spit and enjoy some of Alaska's local seafood. We stopped at a place called Captain Pattie's - dumb name, but nice place with excellent food.




Eating at Captain Pattie's on the Homer Spit. I had deep fried halibut (foreground) and fresh oysters. Sean had a cup of clam chowder.

Now the best part of eating their was a picture on the wall above the hostess station. I've been fascinated with the "celebrity" photos that you find in local businesses around the country. It started a few years ago when I was visiting the North End in Boston with my friend Craig. We spotted a "celebrity" photo in a shop we visited there; here is what Craig wrote in another forum:

"We had Keith staying with us a couple of weeks ago, so I took a couple of days off to show him around. He wanted to see Boston, so we got up early on Thursday and rode right into the heart of the city.

We're in a great little Italian market with these two cute Italian chicks behind the counter. And they're speaking Italian. Anyway, I take a momentary break from my reverie and I realize that there are two pictures hanging on the wall behind the counter. One is the Santa Maria. The other is Robert Loggia. ROBERT LOGGIA!! HAAAA HA HA HAAAAA!! You can't buy that kinda atmosphere!"

Here's the "celebrity" photo I saw hanging in Captain Pattie's.

"To Captain Pattie's Seafood,
I've never tasted better nor had more.
G' Bless
Ernest Borgnine"



So I ask the hostess, "Does he eat here?"

"Yeah, all the time." Like he lives down the block.

After eating we posed in front of Homer's most famous landmark, the Salty Dawg Saloon. I see people wearing sweatshirts from here all the time, and I have always wanted one, but do not think it would be appropriate to advertise for a saloon. I have no idea if it is even a working saloon. Certainly not on the old portion of the building we were posing in front of.


Sean's Harley-Davidson Sportster, Keith's BMW R80, and Tina's Honda Shadow parked in front of the famous Salty Dawg Saloon on the Homer Spit.

Rabbit ears never get old.

Afterward, we gassed up and headed out of town. We had a nice ride back to Anchorage, even with the rain we had between Cooper Landing and Girdwood. I'm glad I had the opportunity to go; I lived up here before, and never made the trip down there. This may have been my only chance to visit while up here this time.

A Luddite is converted

Not really. I'm not really a Luddite, that is. If you have a BlackBerry, an iPod and a laptop running Vista, you cannot be a Luddite, right? Right. Although the last qualification means you are of below average intelligence to a Mac user.

I've resisted joining networking websites like MySpace, Facebook and Twitter, thinking that they were for kids. Then one of my friends (who I thought was a close friend - that punk!) encouraged me to join Facebook, but thought I wouldn't because I "was too old." To which I said "harumph."

So I joined. It looks like it can be useful, and that I will enjoy using it.

Once I figure out how it works.

How to Find Bin Laden

Today was a watershed day in my moving to Alaska. I moved up here from Missouri the last week in July; I have now lived here for just over 4 months.

There are a number of tasks that need to be accomplished when making a move. One of the most important is ensuring that your mail is delivered to your new address rather than where you formally resided. Dropping off a change of address form at the local post office is the easy part; making sure that all the folks you do business with (creditors, banks, clubs, organizations, magazines, mail-order houses, and maybe family and friends) can be more difficult. The ability to change your address with businesses using the Internet has made this task a little easier. However, there is still the concern that you will forget to give your new address to someone.

There are some that you intentionally forget. Organizations or businesses you do not want to hear from, and had never contacted in the first place.

Not long after I moved from Alaska to Missouri the first time, I started receiving newsletters and solicitations from my alma mater. How they knew where I was I have no idea; maybe they have students working full time Googling names of alumni.

Today I received my first piece of mail from them since moving back to Alaska. If the President had deputized the University of Alaska Anchorage Alumni Association into the War on Terror, Bin Laden would have been found long ago.

The Last Frontier

I'm posting this entry from a Kaladi Brothers coffee house. It's like many coffee houses that you would be familiar with, except it is in ANCHORAGE, ALASKA. I'm looking out the front window watching the clouds roll down the green Chugach mountains that border the city to the east, with snow still in the high crevices near the peaks. Awesome.

I still can't believe I'm back. I lived in the Anchorage area for nearly 9 years prior to moving down to Springfield, MO to attend seminary. I served for 4 years as a squad leader in an airborne infantry battalion on Ft. Richardson, adjacent to Anchorage. I earned my BBA from the University of Alaska Anchorage. I've motorcycled nearly everywhere in the state where there are roads, and some places where there weren't any. It feels like I'm back home.

I was a little surprised by how much the place looks the same. Sure, there have been some changes, but everything is so familiar. It is almost like I went Outside for a short vacation.

One thing that has been different is the weather. Anchorage is in the midst of the coldest, rainiest summer in most folks memory. It tends to be overcast the majority of the time. I think it's FANTASTIC! I was never really happy with the heat and humidity of the Ozarks, and tended to stay inside most of the time. The fellow I drove up the Alaska highway with commented each morning about how the temperature was dropping as we continued traveling north. The temperature difference from his previous home (Mesa, AZ) was greater than mine. Each time he commented on the temp, I'd reply with, "Isn't it great?" and laugh.

Following posts will detail how I ended up here, and why.

The Passing of George Carlin

By now everyone knows that George Carlin died last week at age 71. At least, I though everybody did - everyone except the woman that I heard quoting Carlin last night.

"You know he died, right?"

"What? No! When?"

"Last week."

"Nooo!"

I wasn't a huge Carlin fan. Carlin is probably best known for his bit on "The 7 Things You Can't Say on Television" from back in the '70s. He had a long career, with appearances on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson in the '60s to shows in the last year. The past couple of decades seem to have made him more bitter and vitriolic, and I stopped listening to him almost 20 years ago. Of course, he ridiculed religion, especially Christianity.

But he had a sharp intellect and keen perception, especially about human behavior. My favorite bit of his, called "A Place For My Stuff," released in 1981 on the album of the same name, was a good rant about how materialistic we are. Matthew 6:19-21 states "Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." But Carlin's bit was based on the fact that we spend so much of our lives working against this very warning, working hard to earn enough to fill our lives with possessions. It's a funny bit, because it points out the absurdity of our actions (I think much of comedy is about the absurd), but is extremely sobering when measured against Scripture.

Here is a clip of his "Stuff" bit recorded for Comic Relief '86. WARNING: Carlin does use some profanity, so if you are offended by profane language, please do not watch this clip.