Sunday was sunny so we went to the beach.
We only found out about the Beach the summer before last. It's not exactly a secret -- everyone seems to know about it -- but yet we all act as if this isn't really a coastal city. Many people run, ski, or bike the Coastal Trail, 11 miles of pavement skirting the edge of the mudflats and bluffs between downtown Anchorage and the airport, but everyone drives south for saltwater sports. The Beach is a stretch of real sand (as opposed to silt) along the bluff below Kincaid Park, just beyond the end of the Coastal Trail.
Our first and last visit to the Beach was last October, on another sunny day. The south facing bluff caught the fading warmth of the autumn sun. We had been transported to an undeveloped beach in California.
Yesterday was just as sunny, but the November sun causes more of a mental than physical warmth. My friend Rose had told me about biking the ice and icebergs on the beach the week before. Paul doesn't have studded tires so we decided to just walk. We passed two men and a dog huddled around a bonfire. A few other couples walked along the waters edge or up against the bluff, out of the wind.
We walked about a mile to a small point and saw that the major point was still another mile away. The beach ahead was more exposed to the wind. Paul suggested climbing up the bluff to the trails on top. We topped out near the highest hill, 330 feet above the beach, with clear views of the Kenai Peninsula to the south and the Alaska Range across on the west side of the inlet.
1 comment:
This has taken so long that I have forgotten what I wanted to say about Paul at Kincaid Park. Mom
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