Dearest Rachel –
When we were walking around some of the residences around Kodiak, trying to find the bridge to Near Island, we passed by a lot of cars in driveways with bumper stickers. Some were fairly anodyne, like a place they’d traveled to or a local radio station. Others were endorsing one politician or another, which is also fairly standard territory for such stuff. And then there were some interestingly humorous – and maybe self-deprecating – ones, like the one announcing that its owner was a member of an organization called “C.R.A.V.E.”, as a “Chigliak Resident Against Virtually Everything.” Dude must be an absolute hoot at parties.
But one we came across puzzled the two of us; “Keep Alaska Great,” or maybe “Safe,” I forget which it said. But the method it recommended was a little odd; “Fence Off Homer.” It would seem that there’s a certain rivalry between the two nearby (well, ‘nearby’ by Alaskan standards) towns; Kodiak sees itself as gritty and working-class, while Homer has a reputation for being a bunch of artsy hippies. Consider if Pittsburgh and Portland were miniaturized and set relatively close together on the Alaskan coast (with the weather, hopefully, minimizing any tendencies toward the worst of Portland’s current reputation taking hold). Anyway, I gather that the two towns don’t like each other very much, although it’s possible that the rivalry is more in good fun than actual bitterness. Then again, someone from Boston or New York would look at Chicago and Green Bay and say the same thing; it’s all relative, I suppose.
So after wandering around Kodiak on Saturday, it was time for us to visit the other side of where the proposed fence would go up (not that it’s ever going to be built, of course; Homer residents wouldn’t consider themselves to be the problem, after all).
But before that, we would have to wake up, which proved to be more difficult than expected. Both of us were up late the night before; Daniel was ‘bathing’ (and while I don’t know how he does it without actually showering, I know it involves soap and water, since he makes use of towels and the like. I don’t ask him about the particulars, as long as the job is done), and was having difficulty uploading my Kodiak footage. Neither of us entirely managed to shut down until three in the morning, although I’d gotten in a few catnaps while the loading process was underway.
As a result, I was up and about several hours before Daniel, so I took my first little tour around the top of the ship while I waited for him to be ready for breakfast.
Things actually worked out pretty well for our excursion to the museum in town; we were among the later groups going out into town from the Spit (which was where we were docked, and where the high-end, touristy places were located; anyone who just wanted to step off the ship rather than going into the town on the mainland could have made a reasonable day of things right where we were, to be honest), so I could wait for Daniel to rise organically, we could visit the restaurant for a leisurely breakfast, and we’d still have time to lounge around the room before our call time just before noon. Although once we were on the coach headed into town, it occurred to us that they didn’t seem all that strict about group numbers as listed on our tickets; we probably could have come out and ridden into town that much sooner.
But then, were we really in all that much of a hurry to do so?
No, not really; while I might want to look around the place, it was obvious that museums aren’t really a thing for Daniel in particular. I get the impression that, when he was with you and your folks, you all took him to more than his fill of such places, and he’s not really wanting to go to one, if he has a choice.
That, and we’d both come on this trip in order to visit Japan – I’ve said this several times before already – and while I don’t want to give these Alaskan towns short shift, some of them don’t make it easy. If we can’t get out and walk around on our own recognizance, we tend to feel a little bit… railroaded. Daniel more so than myself, but even I felt a bit confined within the building among crowds of my fellow passengers; I could barely walk around for all the people that were there, let alone bring out the selfie stick and film.
We actually missed a shuttle back to the dock area as we walked around the museum grounds, much to Daniel‘s dismay. I reminded him that there would be a bus within the next twenty or thirty minutes, which, even given the short amount of time that we would be in town, would still give us plenty of time to roam the Homer Spit.
In the meantime, we perused the map of the town proper, trying to find out if there was any places worth going to in the meantime. Most of what was in the area were restaurants – and we get fed well enough on the ship, not to mention the fact that they were all pretty good walk from the museum. Not only that, but it didn’t take long even the twenty minutes I thought it would before another bus showed up; I think they have them on a rota.
However, rather than taking us back to the ship itself, the bus offered to drop people off on the other side of the marina. Given how large the area was – and that Daniel and I are probably among the youngest (and most energetic) people on board (setting aside some staffers given shore leave), that was probably for the best. Even so, we did decide to stop and grab something to snack on – more out of Daniel‘s interest than actual hunger. 
Meanwhile, our full perusal of the Homer spit was a little more involved than all that, but not by much. Each little business was quaint and charming, colorfully painted on the outside and well stocked on the inside, but there isn’t much here that would grab our attention in terms of stuff we want or need. There was a consignment store that we stepped into just near the end of our circuit around the marina; it had the sort of ‘thrift store’ feel that would have appealed to you, but not having a boat, its wares would be of no interest.  The cheerful proprietor gave the impression that, after a year in business, they were still struggling to break even; I do hope it works out for them. 
I’m going to say that, from a purely practical standpoint, it would be easier to wrap a fence around Kodiak than to do what its one native asked for regarding Homer. And really, the part that probably irritates the fellow is confined to the spit, anyway – and you can’t stick a fence in the ocean (or rather, I suppose you can, but it’s absurdly impractical). Guess this little rivalry – to whatever extent it exists – is going to have to remain as it is for now; not that it matters to me.
For now, it’s on to Seward; and with that in mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d continue to keep an eye on us, honey, and wish us well. We’re going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 