Our friends Mark and Maria drove all the way to Anchorage to pick us up in their campervan, which became our home for the next two weeks. We stayed with Mark and Maria when we came through Alaska five years ago on our way to New Zealand.
They live in Soldotna, a town 15 minutes down the road from Sterling.

I’ve never before experienced a road trip in a campervan–it’s quite a luxury to relax on the bed in the back while the miles slip by and someone else drives. Thanks Mark!

On our way out of Anchorage we stopped at the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center where all manner of Alaskan animals are kept, some destined for re-introduction into the wild, and others enjoying a long-term home because for some reason or other they’ve become unfit for wild life. We happened upon the bears at feeding time, both brown bears and black bears. A brown bear was chomping on a whole (plucked) chicken, bones and all….it certainly gives a good demonstration of not only its appetite, but also the power of its jaws.  Once arrived in Sterling, we parked up the campervan outside of Ben and Jeannette’s house along side the campervan where Nana and Papa (Jeremiah’s parents) were staying.  Maria even lent us her car, so we were all set up for both a place to stay and for transport–super generous!

We caught up with Mark and Maria a few times, this time at Kenai River Brewery. Maria is about as interested in breweries as the kids, but Mark is a big brew fan.

Over at Mark and Maria’s house for dinner one evening, we admired all their Alaska artwork on their walls. They have amassed quite a collection since we were there five years ago. It’s neat to see how they celebrate their local community, whether it was in Owego, NY (where we met them) or whether it is in Soldotna, AK.

It’s been two years since we’ve seen all the cousins, and we studied names ahead of time. I’m from a family of only four, but I remember appreciating if people could get our names straight. Here (left to right) is Andy, Boaz, Luke, Nathaniel, Ben (father), Mercianna,

The nice thing about a huge family is that “running the kids through the showers” doesn’t actually involve me doing any showering. The olders are quite capable and paired up with the youngers, resulting in clean scalps without any input from Aunt Molly. Uno with the youngers was a civilized affair, turns taken and rules followed. Uno with the olders was a contact sport, I’ve never seen the game played quite like it! But then again, I never had brothers.

Speaking of never having brothers…my own mother always warned me about water fights with boys, and watching the shenanigans of this crew I can see why. Talk about escalation. Ben and Jeannette remain as peaceful as Buddha though the war may rage around them. I suppose as a parent you would have to, to preserve one’s sanity. It brings up an interesting question about child rearing–is it better to let kids feel the natural consequences of their actions (if you throw water at your older brother, he will drag you face first into the frigid Skilak lake), or to intervene and attempt to teach a less-natural-but-more-wordy way of dealing with conflict? I don’t know.

The adults, enjoying the water show.

Naomi had a great time with Elizabeth (three years old, same as her) as well as with Mercianna, who is a little older than Milo.

Naomi is stubborn. Surprise, surprise. Sometimes when something doesn’t go her way, she just stops in her tracks and refuses to walk. With my uncooperative back I couldn’t carry her, but often Merci would come to her rescue.

Despite being rough with one another, the big boys were really sweet with the little ones. Here Naomi is perched on Elijah’s lap.

One evening we brought our kids into town, and Caleb, the oldest son, came along.
We stopped at the town market and wanted to have a wander with the kids, but ours were crabby and just wanted to sit in the car and watch the tablet. “If you come out,” Caleb wheedled, “there might be something nice like ice cream.” He treated them to the ice cream truck, and afterwards happily sat in the car with them watching Octonauts. That’s a pretty special 18-year-old!

S’mores with cousins, definitely an experience to treasure.

POPCORN and s’mores, to be complete. There’s quite a gang of popcorn thugs! Clockwise from the hat are Levi, Luke, James and Nathaniel.

One evening we went on a hike with some of the olders. Well, Jeremiah and his sister Missy went on a hike, I puttered along behind the gang nursing a sore back and hoping that the loud crew ahead of me had cleared out the bears from the vicinity of the trail. How in the world are you supposed to tell the difference between a grizzly bear attack and when he starts to eat you? ? Wouldn’t missing an arm be a bit too late to start fighting back? This helpful sign was at the trail head.

There is some fantastic hiking to be had in the Chugach Range, and originally Jeremiah and I had planned to take a couple days away and explore….but my back going bad just before our travel put a kibosh on those plans. However, I did make it up this far along the Skyline ridge.

Here’s the hiking crew at the top. On the way back, barreling down the trail, they nearly ran headlong into a bear. Fortunately it was a black bear and not looking for trouble, and it moved off.

Jeremiah spent quite a bit of time fishing, both with the cousins and his dad, and with our friend Mark. The reds weren’t at full tilt until nearly the end of our trip, but here he is with his three-fish-a-day limit out of the Kenai River.

If only every day dawned blue like this….

Barbara Lavallee is an Alaskan artist who I love. Her characters look so cheerful and full of happiness and wonder. Here’s her take on salmon season in Anchorage. Pretty spot on for Soldotna too.

Papa (Jeremiah’s dad) is not really much of a fisherman, but even he squeezed into a pair of waders and got into the action. He even managed to catch some salmon, eventually!

If you are an Alaskan Resident you play under different rules than the sport fishermen. You are allowed to “dip net,” or stand in the river with a giant net scooping up salmon as they migrate up the river. As “head of household” you are allowed 25 fish, and 10 or 15 more per additional person in the house. In other words, you can fill up your freezer. I have an enduring memory of the dip netters at the mouth of the Kenai from visiting 5 years ago with Mark and Maria. Mounds of fish heads on the beach. Children running and playing in the frigid ocean water. We made a pilgrimage back to the site this time, and though the fishing wasn’t quite as lively, it was still a sight to behold.

Someone was well on their way to bagging their harvest.

Alaskan residents from the interior come to the coast and set up camp to get their yearly quota of fish. Jeremiah thought it looked like fun, camping with a purpose. To me it looked cold, fishy and uncomfortable….but if the kids had buddies and it was a family tradition, I guess I could imagine it.

The beach had a tide-line of scales. The level of fish carnage made me wonder how any managed to get far enough up stream to spawn.

When Jeremiah asked me what I wanted to do and see in Alaska, my number one desire was to see salmon spawning. To that end we made a pilgrimage to the Russian River, to a well-known viewing spot at some falls. Sure enough, the fish were jumping. They’re crazy! They launch themselves up these waterfalls, crashing into rocks and getting swept back down in the current. A bunch were stacked up in the pool below the falls, scales turning brilliant red. I took a little video. It probably won’t look as exciting in replay as it was in person, but for me seeing these energetic fish was definitely a highlight.

The walk to see the fish was about 5 miles round trip, and the kids did great. Here’s Aunt Missy with Elizabeth and Naomi.

Nana and the kids, at the fish waterfall.

My other obsession was glaciers. Portage glacier was accessible with a boat tour, and we dragged the kids along. Glaciers are receding rapidly, they won’t be as easy to see in the future….but the kids don’t grasp that. Neither do the Alaskans, apparently, who drive massive trucks and don’t bother about recycling.

Cheese! Nana, Papa, Aunt Missy, and us at Portage Glacier.

Cheese again! This one is Exit Glacier, and one of the most interesting things about it is that along the access road to the tourist parking lot are signs that show the end of the glacier in the late 1800s and through the 1900s. It’s been shrinking rapidly. It feels a bit funny to be posing with big grins in front of what is essentially an endangered species, gleefully ignoring the rising ocean and the part we just played in it, flying half way around the world on a big jet.

Homer Spit is about two hours from Sterling, the halibut fishing capital of the world. Ben has a beloved boat he dragged to Alaska all the way from NY, and he had been working on getting it going the whole time we were there. Just at the end of our visit the engine was given the thumbs up and all twenty of us hove off with two campervans, a boat, a truck, a car and a ton of fishing gear for an overnight at Homer.

I think it’s a challenge packing for a camping trip for our family–I was very impressed with the logistics Jeannette managed to get her crew fed and bedded down in Homer.

The boat was launched promptly upon arrival, and a contingent went out in search of halibut.

Moms and youngers stayed back on the beach, admiring the boats….

…..walking around the spit….

…and chatting while the kids played. I haven’t spent a lot of time with Jeannette before this trip, but this time we really enjoyed each other’s company, talking about families, relationships, children, husbands…the stuff of life.

No halibut on that first run, but they came back with a good haul of salmon.

The next morning a second shift went out early and this time they found halibut.

Here’s the less glorious part of fishing–cleaning fish. None of the kids were that keen, but the dads did their duty and packed all the fish away.

The local authorities at Homer provide very nice fish cleaning stations and big bins for disposing of fish scraps. I suppose if the scraps are left around it becomes a major bear hazard. I think all these unsavory parts go to the land fill…..tells you we live in a country where people have plenty to eat.

So there we have it, Alaska distilled. Cousins.

Fish.

Cousins and Fish!

The first hurdle was the shoes. Naomi would have to wear the perfectly functional hiking boots that Milo had grown out of a few months ago. She put up a noisy rejection, which I was temped to squash with a swift “don’t be ridiculous, you’re wearing these because we have them” Mother Statement…which would have been completely ineffectual. Instead I resorted to compromise, and suggested adding some decorations. We raided my sewing box.
It took about 10 minutes to sew on a red felt flower, three purple flowers, an orange sparkly ribbon and a pink bead. The mood changed immediately. Compromise was much easier than unbending practicality after all.

Bling bling shoes not withstanding, 50 meters from the car Naomi declared that her legs were tired. “We’re not carrying you,” Jeremiah reassured her, unsympathetically. I had stashed the old Ergo carrier in my backpack just in case, but was glad Jeremiah was along to brazen it out. Milo ran ahead and hid along the trail (yes, lower down some of the bushes were big enough to conceal a small boy), and we were off on the hunt.

Mid way up the hill there was a pile of rocks. No pile of rocks will be left to molder in peace when a 6 year old boy could action them!

The walking poles don’t actually propel small bodies forward and upward, but they provide a welcomed distraction. You can see the road to the wet coast below.

Trig peak! Everyone reached the top on their own two legs! Milo made sure that he got to the very top of the old survey marker. The dog (named Fish….um, yeah….no, he’s not ours) looked on quizzically.

More rocks! These ones he built into a wind shelter. There was hardly any breeze, but the shelter was still a good idea….most days it would be welcomed. As it was, we were able to linger on the exposed top enjoying the view with our lunch. Both kids pooped in a tussock. Necessities don’t wait.

Milo uncovered a Weta, a special Kiwi bug (wait, that sounds funny….a NZ bug) that I’ve never seen in the wild before. It had these four very neat little palpae that looked like they were tasting the ground as it went along.

I can’t finish an alpine hike without a tribute to the tough plants that live up there. “It’s a nice day today,” I told Milo, “but tonight these plants are going to freeze, and last week they were whipped around by the wind, then they get baked dry by the blistering sun.” This one is a little coprosma, believe, and with the alpine form all the branches are hidden under a tight mass of leaves, making it look like a moss with pearls.

Treats back at the car, followed by a nap on the way home. Well done, kids.

A couple weeks ago we had one balance-biker and one pedal-biker. She’s been proficient on that balance bike for a year and a half, so that’s nothing particularly new. 

Milo has been getting more and more daring on his bike, trying the off-road route here underneath the cool volcanic rocks in Govenor’s Bay.

But then Naomi discovered a pedal bike at playcentre, hopped on, and wobbled off around the track.  Look at that grin–man, was she pleased with herself.  

Their west coast hunt started with an interesting cultural experience. Across that lake is a colony of conservative Christians, the Gloriavale community, whose land one must cross to access DOC land beyond. They hold the gate key, so to get to the lands beyond, you must meet the leaders and walk through the compound where the clothes are home made, the families are enormous, everyone works together onsite in the various business ventures. No one is paid; all money goes into the church. Mark, one of Jeremiah’s hunting buddies, wants to return to see one of the group’s theater performances….   Not me. That pings too close to a former life.

The valley they walked up has a river but no trails. At this time of year the crossings are swift snow melt. Campbell (one of the threesome) does back country search and rescue, so he gave the team some tutelage in the craft of river crossings. Jeremiah was almost smug about his new knee-high waterproof socks, but after one “balls high” crossing even his feet were soggy.

Soggy is the name of the game in west coast hunting, where the annual rain fall is measured in meters. That does make for impressive tree ferns….

And difficult fires. They got one going in the end, using kindling cut from the insides of dead wood. Look at that bonfire–perfect pentagon with precision kindling. They’re all engineers.

Hurray, success!

One guy snores, one farts, and the other one wants some peace. Three dudes, three tents.

Mark looks like a hobbit against that tree, doesn’t he?
“Wow,” I say, admiring the hunt photos. “What kind of tree is THAT?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jeremiah admits. “A big one.”  So I can’t tell you what exactly to admire…maybe a silver beech?  Or Mark’s Aussie/Kiwi bushman style?

Remarkably, they didn’t come back with any dead animal trophies. They shot a sheep, a black one, but apparently it wasn’t impressive enough to bring back the head. Probably had no horns. They brought back some meat though, which we will enjoy.

You can tell she likes pink and purple with her choice of attire.

You can tell she likes pink and purple by her toy choice from the library.

She even swaddles Scarlett bunny in pink and purple. I can't figure out WHY. But other moms find the same phenomenon. Their little gurls are, well, they're girly.

We might need to graduate to a bigger car…or at least a roof rack. After a masterful pack job (thanks Jeremiah!), we all wedged in and drove north from Christchurch to the Abel Tasman. Milo was super proud–he didn’t throw up once. Naomi, on the other hand….let’s just say that New Zealand roads aren’t kind to the faint of stomach.

Last time we were up at this far north end of the Abel Tasman national park was our first Christmas in NZ, when we walked the Abel Tasman track with Milo on our backs. This time we met our friends Laura and Jordy with their two kids, Audrey and Noah for a slightly more sedentary vacation– to camp at Totaranui camp ground.

My tent buddy!

In lieu of a mantle….

Laura took the kids for rides on the NOLS paddle board–her husband Jordy is director of the National Outdoor Leadership School NZ branch, and we enjoyed use of the school’s paddle board and kayak.

We camped right on a low bluff next to the estuary, where, depending upon the tide, our back yard was either a calm shallow lagoon or a low stream perfect for minnow hunting. Jeremiah was flushing the poor fish out from under their hiding rock and into Milo’s waiting net. When the full tide turns the exit of the estuary turns into a quick flowing river, and all the local kids ride it giggling out to the bay. I’m really scarce on photos of this fun, since camera-phones don’t mix so well with sand and water.

The notion of car camping baffled us at first–why drive a long way to set up a tent next to hundreds of other people? But it’s perfect for the kids. Scores of tents pop up to make an instant village, with little people zipping around on bikes and splashing in the ocean. When kids are happy, parents can relax and enjoying one another’s company.

Success! We ate a delicious big blue cod one night, thanks to Jeremiah’s spear fishing prowess.

At the end of our Totaranui stint we packed our backpacks and walked up to the last hut on the Abel Tasman. We’d been prepping Milo for this hike for months–every time I took him for a walk I told him I was exercising his legs for our big Christmas tramp. It’s 10 k (6 miles) with hills and beaches, and Milo did it all on his own two feet. Here’s one of the more successful tactics to pass the trail cheerfully–tickle fern monsters! Milo never failed to giggle when his fern made contact with the back of Jeremiah’s knees, resulting in a satisfactory jump and squeal.

The other really successful tactic was hide and seek. Jeremiah would trot ahead a decent distance, drop a clue on the trail (a purple flower in this case), and tuck himself discretely into a nearby bush. Hours of amusement.

Another trail game we owe to good old DOC, poisoning non-native wildlife. There were more than 150 numbered yellow bait stations for wasps, and we sang their numbers to the tune of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”

I also gave at least five spirited renditions of The Three Billy Goats Gruff, interspersed with Little Red Riding Hood and Goldilocks.

One charming feature of the trail is that between every hill is a pristine beach. A beach for lunch, a beach for tea, a beach for the day’s end.

The native NZ forest here feels almost tropical–giant tree ferns reach three stories above us, vines twine up into the trees, and blue water laps calmly at the shore.

“Look Milo, we’re almost there!” We reached the high point on the last hill and grinned to the backdrop of the bay where our hut was nestled in the forest.

“Whariwharangi hut” it’s truly a mouth-full.

A festive Christmas tree at the hut–beach style.

The hut was originally a settler’s home, and DOC has restored it as a tramper’s hut. It looks homey and welcoming.

I think this is the only DOC hut I’ve stayed in that has a second story.

After dinner we strolled down to the water to stomp the waves in the last warm light before the sun scooted behind the hill.

They were ready for bed, those tired kids!

Another family with two kids was staying there too, and they were absolutely lovely with our kids. After ours hit the sack they played Eucher together.

We returned via the same track, and arrived back at Totaranui just as Milo was beginning to squat in the trail and draw pictures in the dirt. Two days of hiking was enough for him, and we’re really proud that he did it….and even had enough umph left to climb the giant stump for a victory photo.