The Turnagain Arm Pit BBQ on the Road to Seward
We’d forgotten to think about lunch. We had eaten all our Japanese crackers, the kind you can’t eat on the plane or the smell will make all the other passengers sick, and we still have a couple hours drive ahead of us to Seward where we are going out again to see glaciers and wildlife.
And then, we go past the Turnagain Arm Pit BBQ. We pull up at Turnagain House, a finer restaurant, but it is not open and we drive about half a mile back to the BBQ. As we open our car doors, we are so glad to be there. It smells like home, it smells like Pensacola, BBQ.
Turnagain Arm is the area we are driving through, so Turnagain Arm Pit BBQ is a clever play on words. This is what it looks like from the road:
This is what it looks like when you walk in:
This is the Turnagain Arm Pit BBQ Menu – it’s a little pricey, but hey, it’s Alaska, and you don’t fine real pit BBQ everywhere. Everything is imported . . . and there are not a lot of restaurants along the highway to Seward. . .
AdventureMan ordered his favorite, pulled pork. It was delicious, but a little fatty. The sauce was great:
I ordered the mixed plate, I ordered it because of the chicken, which I saved to eat later and then, oh aaarrgh, I forgot it. . .
The scenery along this highway is fantastic. I didn’t take a lot of photos because we really wanted to get to Seward:
The Hanger at the Wharf in Juneau
First, we really love eating at the Hanger at the Wharf. So does just about everyone else. Twice, we got really lucky. It is easier getting a table if you are just two people, and it is easier getting a table if you eat early. As we are still on Pensacola tummy time, we are in luck. As the Celebration 2014 parade ended, we zipped straight over and as larger groups waited, we were immediately shown to a table for two.
No wonder The Hanger is so popular. The food is terrific and this is the view – straight down the Gastineau channel with Douglas and the cruise ships. As the sun slides behind the mountain, it is a stunning view:
Some hardier souls were eating outside on the deck. I used to be this hardy, but my years in the Middle East have softened me, made me not so good at eating in cool and drafty places, even in the middle of the Alaskan summer.
Inside The Hanger: great, courteous, friendly and efficient employees
Every table taken, the bar is packed, and people are waiting in the hallway to be seated:
My halibut tempura:
AdventureMan’s halibut burger and fries:
We liked the food and atmosphere so well that we went back a second time during the ceremonial dances and were happy to see a lot of the dancers eating there, too. I had the first mate’s plate, with salmon and halibut and a berry chutney and AdventureMan had grilled halibut. We both left happy. We would go there again in a heartbeat.
There is only one little thing about The Hanger that makes me uneasy, and it has nothing to do with The Hanger. When I was a little girl, living across the channel, I would watch for my Dad to come home – this was the airport for the amphibious planes, Alaska Coastal Airlines (now part of Alaska Airlines) and Ellis Airlines. When his plane would land, we would all rush to the car and drive like crazy across the bridge to pick him up (no cell phones then, LOL). So I still feel a little frisson and feel the ghosts of the past when I eat there.
All to Ourselves: Mendenhall Glacier
It’s one of those wonderful mornings, we are still on Pensacola time and wide awake. LO, why not, we hit the sack the night before around seven, unable to stay awake another minute. Quick breakfast in the lobby – we brought our own home-mix cereal, but there is milk and fruit we can add, grab a quick cup of coffee, then out to the glacier. When you say ‘the glacier’ you mean the Mendenhall. People havre been coming for years to visit this glacier.
When I was a kid, it was bigger, farther out, and there were only little trails to take out to get closer. Now, it is built up – a place to watch bear catch salmon as they swim up the stream to spawn, and several built up places where tourists can view the glacier, nice paths to walk on. Normally, there are bus loads of people, and I mean that literally. This morning – holy smokes – we are the only car in the parking lot at almost seven ayem.
There are blue places in the sky between white fluffy clouds. There is sunlight filtering through, lighting up the glacier, and making the icebergs glisten.
While AdventureMan shoots shots of Alaskan terns for his birding friends, I shoot icebergs. We listen to the silence, the utter peace of being alone out in this majestic location.
We spend about an hour, hiking around the various viewpoints, feeling so luxurious, the luxury of sheer privacy. As we leave, the buses start arriving. We take the Mendenhall Loop around the lake to Tongass National Forest campgrounds, to see the glacier from another viewpoint.
As we near Skater’s Cabin, full of old memories of my Mom tying up my ice skates and giving us hot chocolate out of a thermos, our old friend calls. We used to go out fishing and berry picking with them on their big former Coast Guard boat, Dad would go hunting with her husband. She is now 90, and she is on the phone inviting us to dinner the next night.
We are so honored. We don’t want to put her out, we don’t want her to have to fix dinner, but we always have such wonderful conversations with us (she asks us things like ‘tell me what it is like grocery shopping in Tunis?’) and we get her to tell tales of life in early Juneau, so we accept.
It’s been a wonderful morning. We know just where we want to have lunch, a place we haven’t tried before. And tonight is the opening parade for Celebration 2014!
Leaving Civil Seattle
No, I didn’t take that photo, but it was exactly that kind of day. It was beautiful when I got to Seattle, it rained buckets one of the days I took my Mom shopping; she was such a good sport as we raced across the parking lot to the restaurant, both getting soaked, and then it was beautiful again for Mother’s Day and departure day.
Had juicy, laughing, crying visits with two very long time friends, feasted my eyes on all the rhododendrons growing so luxuriously, dancing with their intense colors in the Seattle gardens, watched the ferries coming in and out of little Edmonds. It was heaven.
This is really a Chihuly rhododendron 🙂
On the way to the airport KUOW, the local National Public Radio station, mentioned, very politely, that there was a huge accident on I-5 going South, blocking all lanes of the freeway, and would I please consider taking an alternate route south, and gave a couple of suggestions.
So so Seattle. So civil.
Rarely do I hear a car beep in Seattle. People actually do the “after you” gesture – all the time. It takes some getting used to. 🙂
As soon as I got there, I opened the window where I was staying and just breathed the fresh sweet air. It always smells like fresh mown grass when I drive into Edmonds, and then the salt air. It is cool and refreshing. When the birds settle in for the night, there are the sounds of a thousand bird voices, loudest of all the seagulls, squawking at one another while the others are all doing sorter nestling sorts of sounds.
There are trains that go through in the middle of the night, but you learn to just wake up a little and say “oh, the train” and you go right back to sleep.
I took highway 99, which at one time was the major north south road, and while it was a little crowded, due to cars like me taking the alternate routes, it was peaceful and steady, with no delays. I haven’t taken the route for a long time, and got to see an old truck-stop my youngest sister mentioned, and I got to see all the things that are no longer there – the teepee pancake house, the elephant car wash sign. Things change. Taking 99 South took me a little longer than normal, but sometimes it can take a long time on the interstate, too, even without a major accident. Seattle, like Kuwait, has outgrown its infrastructure.
It seems to be the story around the United States. Who is paying attention to the decaying bridges, the once smooth and now potholed highways? Who is checking the buildings in the abandoned city centers and malls?
When I turned in my rental car, the little girl checking me in was in hijab and looked Sudanese. She asked me where I was from, and I told her, and I asked where she was from and she told me Cleveland. LOL.
The Seattle Airport is a gem, full of art works, you just have to take the time to look. Off in corners, they also have free wi-fi, free power plugs, Chinese take away and quiet areas where people can read or use the internet. For some reason, I am TSA PreCheck. Someone said it is age related, but AdventureMan looked it up online and there doesn’t seem to be a connection. I love the shorter line, and not taking off my shoes.
I have plane karma. Just before the plane was loaded and ready to go, the two inside passengers for my row arrived – a basketball player and his also-tall Mom. Behind us arrived a Mom and her two babies – in two seats. The doors closed. There were only three empty seats in the plane, and they were across from me. The basketball player jumped into the window seat and the woman sitting in the aisle seat behind me jumped into the aisle seat across from me, and the Mom and her babies had all three seats to themselves, while the rest of us had room for knees and elbows and room to breathe . . . it makes all the difference.
I like Pensacola, and I like our life here. I am already missing the beauty and coolness of Pensacola winter, dreaming of the beauty and coolness of Seattle summer, LOL.
Where is the Diocese of Cashel and Ossary, Ireland?
Today the church prays for the Diocese of Cashel and Ossory. Fascinating history these Irish people have, full of waves of immigrations and invaders and territorial squabbles. Here’s what Wikipedia had to say:
When we visited Cashel, it was because of the legend of Saint Patrick, and it was one of the most beautiful and memorable places we have ever visited, lots of places to walk and see. Here’s more from Wikipedia:
According to local mythology, the Rock of Cashel originated in the Devil’s Bit, a mountain 20 miles (30 km) north of Cashel when St. Patrick banished Satan from a cave, resulting in the Rock’s landing in Cashel.[1] Cashel is reputed to be the site of the conversion of the King of Munster by St. Patrick in the 5th century.
The Rock of Cashel was the traditional seat of the kings of Munster for several hundred years prior to theNorman invasion. In 1101, the King of Munster,Muirchertach Ua Briain, donated his fortress on the Rock to the Church. The picturesque complex has a character of its own and is one of the most remarkable collections of Celtic art and medieval architectureto be found anywhere in Europe.[2] Few remnants of the early structures survive; the majority of buildings on the current site date from the 12th and 13th centuries
The Creole Nature Trail
In the next to the last episode of True Detective, at the very beginning of the episode, you see this sign, old and beaten, alongside a narrow country road.
And here is one reason AdventureMan and I have been married over 40 years. He looked at me, and I looked at him, and we knew where our next mini-adventure would take us. The Creole Nature Trail is mere hours away, in a part of Louisiana we love.
Even better, this is so cool, you can download an app for The Creole Nature Trail, free, and using your geo-tracking capabilities in your smart phone, it can tell you about each stop along the 180+ miles of natural wilderness along the trail. I love technology.
True Detectives was atmospheric; the atmosphere was so thick it was like it was a character in the series. The cameras loved the bayous, and the shacks, and the run-down bars; the cameras loved the trees and the semi-swampy lowlands – and they made Woody and Matthew run through them often, LOL. The end comes in a fortification that looks a whole lot like our own Fort Pickens, but is one of what must be several colonial forts, some abandoned, some maintained, along the Gulf coastline.
The Creole Nature Trail is just past the area we know from our visit to the James Lee Burke sites around New Iberia, one of our favorite trips. We know it will be wild, and beautiful, and in some places, a little bit bleak. We know to take insect repellant, as they have world famous mosquitoes in Louisiana. This photo is from our trip to Avery Island, where they make the world’s most famous Tabasco Sauce.
I’m just thankful to be married to a man who is up for the same adventures I’m up for 🙂
The Driftwood Inn, Homer Alaska
We stayed at the Driftwood Inn the last time we were in Homer, and liked it, except that our room next to the Elks Club got a little noisy on a Saturday night.
This time we tried another room, room 29; you can choose and book for specific rooms at the Driftwood Inn. We love the view, we feast on the view. We love the cleanness and spaciousness of the rooms, and we love all the common areas – there is a fridge and microwave and stove, and a large sitting room, kitchen table, etc. There is a washer and dryer, woooo hooooo, even though we are mostly in jeans and chinos and layers of shirts, things get dirty and I like a chance to wash up.
We also have a lovely large closet where we can stow all our gear, and we have a Keurig coffee maker, well stocked. Alaska is like Seattle, people drink a lot of coffee.
LOL, first things first, the closet:
This room could work well for a family, with two beds, a double and a queen:
There is also a lovely balcony, and a door to the balcony, which we often kept open so we could listen to the waves.
View from balcony on a cloudy day:
Florida is a Very Long State
Unless you have traveled extensively in Florida, you have no idea how much Florida there is. We often have friends call who want to ‘drop by on the way to Miami’ and we gently tell them that Pensacola is next door to Mobile, Alabama; they might want to check the mileage on a map.
Our trip to Fort Myers, we started around 6:30 in the morning to avoid prime-time traffic. With a couple stops for late breakfast and early dinner, and a couple stretch breaks – AND heavy traffic – and a time zone change – it took us around 13 hours to get there.
The trip back took less. Traveling I-75 early on a Sunday morning is the way to go. I-10 is always a pleasure, far less heavily trafficked.
Refined Dinner at Fresh Catch Bistro, Fort Myers, FL
We were in the mood for a really fine dinner, not your beachy fish n’chips, but something nice, you know, like with a white tablecloth. Reading through reviews on Trip Advisor, we debated several and decided on Fresh Catch Bistro. It was only about 4 in the afternoon, but it was a Saturday night and there were a lot of tourists in town, so we bit the bullet and made a reservation.
After a little while, we decided to head over ‘early.’ We thought it was early. Evidently ‘early’ at Fort Myers Beach is all a matter of perspective, because the road into the beach was bumper to bumper, so much so that while we had thought we would have time to drive around, now we were wondering if we would even get there in time for our reservation.
Traffic narrows into alternating lanes, then down to one lane crossing a bridge into Fort Myers:
Sometimes you wonder just how many cars can fit on one narrow little strip of road and beach properties . . . Fort Myers transformed it’s turquoise and purple beach look with a little Christmas deco:
At Fresh Catch, the phone for reservations never stops ringing. We are glad we thought of it earlier in the afternoon, but even so, we weren’t early enough to snag an outside table. We were happy with the window table we were shown to, and the beautiful view of the sunset, which broke through the low-lying clouds:
Our waiter, Jason, was superb. He was knowledgeable about the specialties, and helpful. He took good care of us. One thing we really liked is that while the restaurant filled quickly, and had some large parties, and while the tables were fairly close, you could still have a private conversation without being overheard by the next table.
We ordered the bacon wrapped scallops first. The plate showed up with two scallops and a bed of small greens, but when we cut into the scallops – sheer heaven. They were the largest scallops I have ever seen, and one scallop was about eight bites of perfectly seared and spiced scallop. It was a divine way to start a meal.
As we ate our scallps, the sun was setting:
People can actually come to the restaurant from the beach side, and this parachutist beached just in front of the restaurant. There was a lot going on.
Hubby’s Garden Salad with vinaigrette dressing was delicious:
As was my own Ceasar:
And then, the main course. AdventureMan ordered off the special menu where you choose your fish, choose the preparation, choose the sauce and choose a side. His tuna arrived perfectly seared, and huge – like three inches thick. It was melt-in-your-mouth perfection, although he commented some people might find it a little rare in the middle. The preparation allowed the full tuna flavor to shine:
I had the Mediterranean Shrimp, huge shrimp served on a bed of creamy risotto, with a sauce of sweet red peppers, pesto, capers, artichoke hearts and just enough cayenne to get your attention. It was a taste treat.
Sometimes, even when you are full, the experience is so positive that you just want to keep going. We looked at the dessert tray, full of enticing goodies like creme brulee’ and key lime pie and chocolate selections, but were entranced by a pear tart, modest and refined. AdventureMan chose it, and I was so glad he did! We miss France, we miss the art of preparing foods simply and exquisitely. This tart was about as close as we’ve been able to find in Florida to that artistry.
We ate too much. We enjoyed every minute and every bite. So totally worth it.
A TCK Wedding (Third Culture Kids)
Several years ago, back in my earlier blogging years, a Kuwaiti friend, Amer al Hilaliya wrote a wonderful post: I Am a Third Culture Kid, Are You? He never anticipated the result – comment after comment, some short, some a little bitter, some longer and insightful. The Third Culture Kids know who they are, and are eager to share their insights and experiences – but mostly with other Third Culture Kids, who understand.
Others . . . don’t get it.
This weekend, we went to a wonderful Third Culture Kids wedding. It wasn’t billed that way, but it was so thoroughly that way that I couldn’t stop seeing it. It doesn’t hurt that we are reading the seminal work on Third Culture Kids by David C. Pollock and Ruth E Van Renken called, yep, you guessed it, Third Culture Kids.
It’s almost like reading a whole new book. It has all the Third Culture Kids stories, but has expanded to include third culture kids cousins, like the adult third culture kids, ATCKs (those who have lived a goodly share of their lives in a non-native culture), cross culture adoptees, cross cultural marriages, etc. One of the points they make is that being third culture kids cuts across a lot of boundaries and makes for odd – odd by normal standards – friendships. Once again, across the boundaries – countries, old, young – friendships are determined by a commonality in experiences outside the native culture. It is a fascinating read.
People don’t think of how LONG Florida is, tip to tip, but from Pensacola to Fort Myers is a fuuur piece, as they say, even if it is on an inside curve. Thank God it wasn’t Key West! We thought it would be an eight hour drive, and it turned into thirteen, with heavy traffic from Lake City to Ft Myer.
The wedding was sweet, simple and heart felt. Both sets of parents had done significant missionary work in foreign countries, and the kids were definitely third culture kids. The groom would speak Turkish in his sotto voce asides to his best man, who grew up with him on the streets of Ankara. The bride’s brother read all the greetings and best wishes to the bride from her friends in Hungary – and he read them all in Hungarian.
Just as the ceremony started, along came a pirate ship! Some things, you just can’t plan, they just happen.
They all told family stories, and one of them stuck in our hearts because it reflects our own experiences growing up in the Moslem world. The groom, as a young man, came home flustered because a woman on the metro, as he was coming home, noticed he was not wearing an undershirt under his T-shirt, and assumed he was a homeless child. She started talking with all the other passengers, and they marched him off the train to the souks, where they insisted on buying him an undershirt (who knew that you were not properly dressed in Turkey unless you were wearing a sleeveless undershirt?) and also a sweater, to keep him warm on the streets. All this, in spite of the fact that this homeless boy spoke excellent Turkish and kept telling them he had a home! No! No undershirt, he has to be homeless.
Few people in America know the kindnesses we experience living in the Moslem world. It may not always make sense to us – in Tunis, we always wondered if we were getting the annual Eid platter of lamb and couscous showed up because we were thought to be poor or because we were strangers? There has always been a sweetness and generosity to our Moslem neighbors that humbled us. Because of the layering upon layering of these kindnesses, we see Islam, and the Middle East, differently from most of our American friends who have never lived among Moslems. Maybe if we all knew one another a little better, we would have less cause to fear one another, and maybe without all that fear, we could manage a little less hatred.
What is a wedding without babies and children to remind us of the Circle of Life (which AdventureMan calls The Circle of Death). This little one speaks English and Turkish already, and loved the sugar white sands of Ft. Myers Beach and the little seashells, just her size.
As more and more people cross borders, for work, for play, for marriage, for education, as we live in ‘alien’ cultures and learn other ways of thinking, maybe we are growing into an entire world with a larger viewpoint?
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