It's time to attack a trail, torture the earth, kick some rocks, strain some muscles. So to the Resurrection River Trail we will go. The trail is a really long one, almost takes you to Anchorage. That, however, was not our intention. It was a lovely trail that wound around a mountain and followed the Resurrection River for a while. Pretty steady elevation, not too steep, and scenery galore. Among all that scenery was scat galore too. We figured we had seen several bears markings, a moose maybe, and a possible wolf or coyote. Phyllis and I should write a Hiker's Scat Guide. Really!!! After we had gotten back, Barry talked to someone who knew there were lots of bear in that area - no scat! We already had figured that one out.
We walked about three miles and started home. There were signs posted for a "Mud Bog" and Barry couldn't resist. By the time we made it the bog was history. You just wouldn't believe the vehicles sitting around that had been dragged through all the bog. I just don't get the attraction. That and taking your truck up into a mountain and wrecking it while trying to drive it over boulders! Guess it takes all kings!!!!
While we were motoring around, we explored parts of Seward we hadn't seen before: the regional prison, the marine repair yard - just hours of informational, entertaining amusement! The prison was nice.
Since it was such a nice night we all decided to sit out by the Bay around a fire ring and toast our toes. We had a couple of live wires beside us. A couple with their son from California visiting his brother who was from Anchorage. The two brothers like to fish and had a bunch of stories to tell. As we sat there, Barry holding Maggie and with the two little guys, a little fellow came running through crying and dripping blood. I couldn't move, but Phyllis and the brother from California (who happened to be a dentist) jumped up to help him. He was just a little guy who finally stopped crying long enough to give his name and age. He had fallen in the rocks and had a big laceration in his forehead that was bleeding. In a flash the dentist had the little fellow, who was 7 years old, calmed down Phyllis washed his hands that were all bloodied, and help came from everywhere. He was confused where his RV was and was just running in the wrong direction as it turns out. Anyway, Phyllis and Barry set off to find the parents. In the meantime, the father shows up and seems very blase about the whole thing - only later did I find out he was really appreciative of the help. So it was an evening of good Samaritans gone right!
From the MABarry - over and out.
http://outddoor.blogspot.com/?zx=d5329d66be9d1f31
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