We all have goals. Little goals, big goals, spoken goals, unspoken goals. Some goals we aren't even aware of until we fail or succeed, then we realize we actually had been working toward that outcome, or not.
|A huge Arctic daisy. Not only do you get a picture of this huge bloom, but you can read my palm as well.|
My particular goal was a big goal as well as a voiced goal: I wanted to reach Ingram Creek on my walks of cleaning up roadside litter. I'd done it last summer and this summer would be no different.
Ingram Creek marks the beginning of the Silvertip highway maintenance section. This is where the Seward highway curves sharply left, leaves the large valley of the saltwater Turnagain Arm, and rises into the mountains through the Chugach National Forest.
It's also where a large sign welcomes everyone to the Kenai Peninsula.
Ingram Creek was a natural boundary for me. It's forty miles form my home. I've walked every mile of it with a grab stick in one hand and a yellow litter bag in the other.
|Click to enlarge and you'll see traffic on the far side of the arm. This is low tide, or you'd see water where all that gray clay and muck is.|
And, there it is. Just ahead of the motorhome, where the guardrail changes design, is Ingram Creek.
|Like the coif? Hey, you'd look windblown too if you'd been walking facing Friday night traffic heading to the Kenai Peninsula. Also, I don't wear my best clothes when I'm out there. Quit with the snarky remarks.|
Now what? Well, hopefully the Silvertip guys will soon get their turn to use the huge mower and start mowing the roadside vegetation. Then I can do it all over again.
In the meantime, I'm considering a 35 mile backpacking trip through the mountains.
But I've already made a list of what I need to take...
A Yarrow of a Different Color
This is yarrow. It's considered a weed.
I rather like it. It has a sweet scent. It's almost always white. Occasionally, I'll find it in varying shades of pink.
But never before have I found yarrow in this intense rose color. From a distance I mistook it for dwarf fireweed. This is really special.
|Sweet peas found growing on the banks of Ingram Creek. These had a death grip on a small alder sapling with their climbing tendrils.|
|This dragonfly must have had an encounter with a vehicle. I put it out of harm's way to recover behind a guard rail post.|
|More daisies, these at Mile 53. All you see that is white alongside the highway are daisies, and this isn't all of the field.|
Losing Your Lunch
I saved the best for last. On the drive home after reaching Ingram Creek, I stopped to pick up a large cardboard box. Hidden by the grass were these:
This is hilarious and a perfect way to end a goal-accomplished day. Someone's lunch blew out of their truck/boat/whatever. Spam and pilot bread.
Alaskans consume more Spam than any other state population except Hawaii.
There was almost a panic when word circulated a few years ago that Sailor Boy was going to stop making pilot bread. What would the bush dwellers do? The mariners? Hunters? Campers?
Fortunately, Costco continues to carry Sailor Boy pilot bread, which are really big round hard crackers, in the giant economy box.
I have no idea what the tongs were for.