HOMEr again

6,000 birds. That's the official estimate of the number of birds on Gull Island in the middle of Kachemak Bay. Winter count: zero. The migrating birds return here to hatch their eggs, puffins burrowing in, others just taking turns balancing the egg on the rocks.

Today we went across the bay with the Center for Alaska Studies to see the tidepools at their Peterson Bay Research Center and saw Gull Island up close and personal on the trip. We were ferried by St. Augustine Kayaking, and the plan was to kayak in the afternoon. Things don't always turn out the way you plan.

Getting to land is by way of a rope barge from a floating dock. Why? The tides can change by as much as 28 feet; the community lives by tidal times. The education tour dealt mostly with plants strange and unique to the area. We also learned a great deal about the spruce beetle, which is systematically destroying all the old growth spruce in the state. In the long view, the spruce beetle is simply recycling the forests. New vegetation is growing under the dying trees and in a few more lifetimes, the spruce will return again. There is a bog on the island, like an English bog, very acidic, but strange plants adapt and survive in its harsh environment. If we had been avid birders, we would have hiked back to a lake filled with millions of birds, but the mosquitoes like it just as much, so we passed on the birds. I was looking forward to the tidepooling.

Poor planning on tour times, I would say, because the tide was in, not out, while we were there. Therefore, we never got to walk in the tide pools to see the sea creatures. Could have switched our times, I would think, to tide pool. I am putting that in the suggestion box at the center.

In the afternoon, the boat returned to take us kayaking. Carl had voiced many reservations about fitting in a kayak, and he was right. He really doesn't. The guide shoehorned him in, and he could neither move nor breath. I am sure she had visions of rescuing him and trying to dislodge him from the kayak. After a few paddles around the bay, it was time to say, nope, this is not working.

Scott, the man who owns St. Augustine Kayaking, took us up to his house on the bluff, where we waited for the others to come back from their kayaking. He has built a house, three guest houses, and three outhouses, mostly from native growth off the land. The guest houses are one room, with a sink and a wood heater and a Coleman stove on the porch. It is camping at its quaintest. Scott is in the process of building an outdoor kitchen to cook for his guests. He's been in the area for 30 years, always in the outdoor adventure business. His building talents are quite extraordinary, especially his imagination in incorporating timber from the land.

The day was rain, sun, cloud, rain, sun, cloud, but never very stormy. The trip back was pretty chilly though. Summer has just not come to the peninsula yet. Salmon are late, and bears are getting hungry!

The next morning, we awoke to sunshine and forgave Homer for all its gray blustery days. We had a leisurely coffee at the Two Sisters Bakery down the street, which we have come to love in the few days we have been here, and after Daisy's walk, which she will probably tell you about, headed for the view overlooks. East End Road follows the bay about 12 miles east, and the views are breathtaking. If you have the kind of vehicle that likes rough roads, you can keep going past the pavement's end to a Russian fishing village. We traversed up East Hill Road to Skyline Drive, where the view made all the previous ones seem mundane. From the upper bluffs, we gazed over at the glaciers across Kachemak Bay, coming down from the Harding Ice Field, and down on Homer, the Homer Spit and the sparkling bay. It was the only sunny day in about a week, I think, and we were not alone in heading out for the views, the wildflowers and the seratonin. I now understand the allure of this place.