Hearing Voices

Next to last goal met, time to head for Wasilla, daughter, aunt, son-in-law and a re-visit to grandson.

A half-day fishing charter was all we could manage, full-day boats were already full.  As was the case with all of our trip, it was serindipitous.  We returned to Homer with 20 pounds of filets, had 2 vacuum packed, the remainder flash frozen and scheduled to ship fedEx and meet us on our return.

Sunrise over Kachemak Bay

Kachemak Bay, from the Homer Spit

We drove noth towards Wasilla but decided to stop short at Cooper Landing and spend the night at our all-time favorite camp ground, Quartz Creek, near Cooper Landing.

Quartz Creek CG, near Cooper Landing

Dad said he could hear voices as we sat beside Tustamena Lake, the voices of his children when they were young and so enthusiastic about simply living each moment.    During the 6 years he and mom spent here in Alaska, Quartz Creek was at least an annual destination.  A certain birch tree, still standing, cradled their daughter and first-born son on each trip to this wondrous place.  We stopped there first as dad insisted on yet another photo of Tim seated on the branch that last held him when he was 3.  Then it was on to the ritual of picking the best available camp site, which we did with great success considering it was two days prior to the start of the Memorial Day holiday.


Once camp was set  we prepared our dinner: fresh, self-caught halibut coated in crushed Ritz crackers mixed with lemon pepper and grilled over coals from a birch wood fire. Ah! Laska.