Day Nineteen - 11/4/07 - The Homer Spit

Surprised that we felt rested on an average amount of sleep, we puttered around our cabin for an extra hour before the Pats game with our gift from grandpa daylight savings time. The start of the game was rough; Bryan and I watched as the Colts’ defense matched the Pats’ offense. Ray stopped by to drop off extra sheets and tell us we could watch the rest of the game. Bryan hinted at being the mother of his children, but Ray interpreted the interaction as a simple display of gratitude, leaving Bryan heartbroken. Good always triumphs, though, and the Pats finally exacted their revenge for last year’s AFC game. Brad was relieved that it was all over and we packed up. We noticed a Dior scarf on the table that we thought was Ivan’s, so we took it along. (Later, I called Ivan telling him that I had retrieved his scarf. He said, “What scarf?” I said, “The Dior one in Ray’s cabin.” He said, “I think that was decoration.” We had found our first present for Nick and friends.)

The drive from Kenai to Homer was unremarkable because we made it mostly in the dark. Upon our arrival in Homer, we drove to the famous “Salty Dawg” bar which we found, unsurprisingly, closed for the season. We made our way back to the little “park” which was a beach with a gazebo. Surveying the land, we found the gazebo the most suitable place for our tent, encouraged by the sign on it which read, “No Camping.”

The sand on the beach was covered with terrifying pieces of seaweed that in the dark resembled large snakes; they had round heads the size of softballs and long, hollow tails at least eight feet long.

With a tarp as a makeshift wall and some clam chowder, we hunkered down in the drizzle and rested for our tour of the peninsula the next day.