I knew I was finally in Alaska when I sat myself down at the only restaurant/bar at the airport with a view of a spectacular snow-capped mountain range. At the table to my right, a man showed me a slideshow of his house in Homer with an amazing view (naturally) of nature and the Homer spit from his backyard. This really set the tone for what I would do (since I hadn’t actually made many concrete, informed plans for my Great Alaskan Adventure). To my left, a rather crazy, drunk man stood up in his seat, waved his fists in the air victoriously, and yelled, “I DRILL FOR OIL!!!” Manly. Very manly. Needless to say, he was rather unceremoniously kicked out of the bar. And to my front, a group of fishermen were trying to convince me of the value of a halibut fishing expedition. Eh. Can’t get over the idea of hooking squirming bait and knocking fish unconscious. But hey, suggestions are always welcome.
Arriving at 26th St Hostel in midtown Anchorage, I knew (over and over again) that I was completely over staying at hostels. Well, first of all, we arrived at the hostel feeling all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but the hostelites in the living room just stared at us blankly like they had just smoked the most massive joint in the world. And we were given the basement. Even the hostel manager conceded that he usually didn’t rent out the room except under more dire circumstances! Needless to say, we didn’t last there too long.
Our first experience of the midnight sun – leaving dinner at 10:30pm while it was still light out. Fabulous. As I slid under the sheets and put on my eyeshades, I made a prediction that this perpetual daylight phenomena would get old pretty quickly.
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