Dotted along the Seward highway from Anchorage down along the coast and across the Kenai peninsula are floral tributes to those who died making the trip. It’s the sort of journey where it is almost impossible to keep one’s focus solely on the road ahead. Some poor souls pay dearly for that moment of distraction.
Yet from the moment you leave the outskirts of Anchorage and hit Route 1 proper you are subject to panoramas so vast as to be unfathomable, such is their size and scale. The glaziers and mountains you see are probably three times the size your mind makes them and three times the distance away.
Today the cloud is low and they brush the sides of mammoth mountains, settling into dips and gullies like sheep sheltering from the coming storm.
Along the 120-some-miles drive I stop many times to take in the views. I see an eagle drifting lazily on the warming air as the mists begin to burn away and Seward looms closer.
I turn into the Marina Motel and my heart sinks a little. It’s ‘for sale’. But I needn’t have worried, the room was great and the people there terrific too. Including their vigilant doggie receptionist, Honey.