The Homer Spit is a natural gravel and sand feature, constantly changing with the littoral drift from the tides and erosion and earthquakes and winds.

We stayed in a hotel on the very end of that peculiar geographic feature.

One side is relatively stable, but the inlet side is exposed to the Cook Inlet, with the berms having once been much higher. As recently as the 1930s drivers couldn’t see the water. But what destroys also builds. Sandstone bluffs exposed by the harvest of building materials, have eroded and the drift increases the spit’s size. They function like snow fences, creating eddies where migrating material collects and builds. This is actually making the spit longer – the beach berm at the end was five feet wide before the earthquake of 1964. A year later it was 85 feet wide. Waves at high tide once washed the walls of the hotel where we stayed. Now, the locals say, only the biggest surges can get to it.

Eight months after the earthquake the small boat harbor was rebuilt. The nine-acre installation could more 200 boats. It cost $964,000. The gravel they scooped out from the sea was reused as fill for areas damaged in the temblor.

Today we hiked the Glacier Lake Trail, to see the Grewingk Glacier. It was named in 1880 by William H. Dall, a name we’ve heard a lot in this area, for named by the Constantin Grewingk, a German geologist and archeologist, who was a key member of the Estonian archeology, meteorite collections and some early explorations of Alaska, among other things. He wrote about his works on Alaska and the Pacific Northwest for Russia. He also has this nice little glacier.

Seeing it involved an alarm clock, a walk, booking a water taxi and being piloted by Shiloh:

He was an excellent captain. He gave us views like this:

That’s where Shiloh left us.

We had to work our way over the Saddle Trail. The terrain offered spruce and cottonwood trees. It is built up nicely for day hikers.

The views on the way up to the top of the climb are breathtaking:

As you work your way back down the other side the trail leads you into the outwash plain of the Grewingk Glacier and the broad, gravel beach of Glacier Lake.

We didn’t give ourselves enough time here, unfortunately. We should have planned for more. Off to the right there was birdsong. Everything else was perfectly quiet. I walked maybe half of the beach and there was no obvious pollution. Aside from one outbuilding — perhaps an outhouse — there was no obvious sign a human had ever been there. Of course they have, but it was clean.

Also, I found this:

Google tells me there is one Beth Nugget in the United States. Anyone know her?

I have a few other pictures I’ll put up from the of this hike tomorrow. Already this has gotten long and we’re just now getting back on the water on the return trip to Homer:

My new house!

And one more of our new pal Shiloh.

Adam found the Time Bandit, from The Deadliest Catch. We leaned over the rail and discovered that vessel is a lot smaller in person than it appears on television.

I found the Horizon, formerly the U.S. Navy YO-43. You can just see the old name under the paint. I discovered that the Horizon, originally a fuel tanker, was at Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941.

The Horizon’s stern:

We’ve been told the skies haven’t been nearly as clear as they usually are in Alaska. Sometimes you see it in these shots, sometimes you wonder what people are complaining about. Or, if not complaining, they’re just disappointed: the tourists can’t see everything. That’s considerate.

The reason is this fire just outside of Soldotna, about 70 miles north of Homer and 64 miles south of (or 148 meandering miles by road to) Anchorage:

We never saw the actual flames, but this weekend it became a megafire, engulfing more than 100,000 acres. As much to the location as the firefighters, only one structure has been destroyed in the blaze so far. They were evacuating people, though. Five of the eleven signs I saw in Soldotna had a similar message:

That sky isn’t a camera trick, but it is spooky if you’ve never been beside a substantial wildfire before. It is just five miles east of the town of Soldotna, we’re told.

But then, you drive out from under it and get another view like this:

And then you can just pull off on the side of the road and see sites like this on the Kenai River:

How could you ever get bored with that?

And, then, a bit later, another turn in the road and you look to the left over the Turnagain Arm and see those clouds again:

Tomorrow will be an easy day. I’ll just catch up on a few photographs here, just in case you haven’t gotten enough yet.