Finding Hope (Alaska): Michael Valliant

Finding Hope (Alaska)

by Michael Valliant

Sometimes the universe conspires with your dreams. Things come together in ways you don’t expect to swirl what seemed like disparate realities. I’m not sure how I would have made it to Alaska in short order otherwise.

My partner Holly’s parents, Butch and Sharon Slaughter, have RV’ed to Alaska twice and were planning to make one more crosscountry trip there this summer, taking two months to be on the road. I turned 50 earlier this year and had been thinking through ways to commemorate a half century. Alaska was a trip on both of our bucket lists. And the idea of being able to meet up with Holly’s parents and experience some of the state with them as tour guides, and some on our own, made this summer the time to go.

My pining for Alaska kicked into high gear with the television show Northern Exposure. The 1990s drama/comedy was set in the fictional rural town of Cicely, Alaska,

Holly, with her parents Butch and Sharon Slaughter.

Finding Hope stayed our first night in a lodge on a lake that had 46 sea planes with a cast of characters, a vibe and docked on the shore. Not a single a landscape you wanted to spend boat. And it was daylight at 11 p.m. time with. Despite later learning We were not on the Eastern Shore the show was filmed in Washington anymore. State, it was still what began my Talking to friends, we got longing, and I was holding on to great advice that if we were gohope that there was a town some- ing for a week, to either go south where in Alaska like Cicely. North- to the coastal towns of Homer and ern Exposure is still my favorite TV Seward on the Kenai Peninsula, or show. north to the mountains of Denali

We flew into Anchorage and National Park and Fairbanks, but

Finding Hope out into Kachemak Bay. There were marinas full of fishing boats and stands where locals were cleaning halibut and salmon off the boats. For the time we were in Alaska, halibut seemed to be the equivalent of summer rockfish on the Chesapeake Bay. Over the next two days, we took our time driving to Seward, where the waterfront parking lots were packed with RVs, the town’s park not to try to do both on such a tight had tent campers strewn about and schedule. We read, we watched vid- cruise ships came and went out eos, we talked and we picked south of the harbor, which had resident to the Kenai. seals supervising things.

To be on the move and appreci- People RVing are happier than ate the road, we made the call to other people. They are friendlier, rent a small RV and stay in parks. laugh more and seem to approach Then we drove to Homer going the day differently. We always want down Seward Highway, which is to bring things back from vacation one of the most scenic roads in with us ~ memories, of course, but America ~ the incredible blue wa- more than that; things that make ter of Turnagain Arm with moun- our everyday lives richer. I hope tains rising in the background. to be able to keep the RVing atti-

The two easiest things to find tude in the way I see each day. A driving on the Kenai Peninsula are camping neighbor next to Butch espresso and cannabis ~ with big and Sharon came back from fishing signs every mile or so making sure and offered up salmon filets, which you know you can get up, or you were grilled for dinner. can get down. RVs and trucks pulling trailers were everywhere, and the towns each had multiple RV parks as well as more remote state parks to camp in the woods.

We joined Holly’s parents and their friend Dave Smith, who was towing his camper along with them, on Homer Spit, a finger of land extending from the mainland 48

Leaving Seward, the Slaughters and Dave began to make their way back to Canada and then back across the United States to Denton, where we would see them a couple weeks later.

Seeing a glacier was on our mustdo list for the trip, so we headed to Exit Glacier, just outside Seward. Kenai Fjords National Park is a perfect starting point with a number of well-marked trails, and Holly and I took a trail that climbed a couple miles to get us to a shade of prehistoric blue that my eyes had never experienced.

An interpretive sign read, “Look for the glacier’s signature blue glow in the deep crevasses. When light passes through ice this thick, all the colors of the spectrum are absorbed except for blue.”

As you approach or leave the gla-

cier, signs mark where the ice was in various, incremental years. Even where it was in 2010 shows a staggering loss.

We stayed that night in Cooper’s Landing, at the Russian River Campground, where the Russian and Kenai rivers come together and there were people fly fishing everywhere they could wade. We took off shoes and stood ankle-deep, just listening to the river. Signs posted noted that the bear activity that day was particularly high. Thankfully, we didn’t see a bear.

When we were lining up places to stay in Alaska, we watched a video that mentioned the town of Hope. There was an RV park right next to a bar and café. I called and they had a space for Friday night when we were going to be there. We booked it knowing nothing else.

Main Street in Hope, Alaska, is a dirt and gravel road that might be a quarter mile long. You pass by Sourdough Dru’s “greatest gift shop in the world,” a food truck with coffee and rockfish tacos, the town social hall and then the Seaview Café and Bar, where we were staying. When we checked in, we found out they had our same spot available for Saturday night, so we doubled our stay.

Our first five nights in Alaska were largely about geography. Our two nights in Hope were rooted in community. Though it rained for most of the time we were there, it didn’t matter.

People come to Hope each weekend from Anchorage, Fairbanks and other towns. They pull up in vans, trailers, campers or some combination, they walk into the river fishing, they enjoy live music at the Seaview and they spend time together.

Hope is the real-life version of Northern Exposure’s Cicely. When

the Hope school outgrew its oneroom schoolhouse, organizers in the town decided to turn the building into a library. To support it, they opened a gift shop of local arts and crafts and a book barn selling used books. Across the street is a Methodist Retreat Center, and around the corner is an outdoor outfitter that takes people whitewater rafting each day.

Asking what time the gift shop opened on Saturday, we heard the joyful image, “Noon, but we’re going to listen to the band tonight and if I’m too hung over, then 1 p.m.” There was story after story of people who had found Hope and then decided to stay.

Saturday night, the rain stopped long enough for the band Wiley Post to play at the Seaview, so we walked over from our RV. The crowd was a micro version of a family reunion combined with a Grateful Dead show. People were laughing and talking and dancing; a guy with a chest-long beard, cowboy hat and pajama pants on had a bubble machine blowing bubbles across the deck. We met a grandmother who was there with her son and his family dancing with her grandson, and she showed us pictures of their weekend.

There was joy in the air. There was Hope. A guy we met while he was volunteering at the library was there with a Ziploc bag full of melted crayon hearts that he was giving people to pass out. He had made the hearts with local kids and they each had an “H” for Hope. He was another who had come to Hope in 1997, from Boston.

Holly asked him why he made them, why he was passing them out to people.

“To change the world,” he smiled.

We found Hope. We’ll be going back.

Michael Valliant is the Assistant for Adult Education and Newcomers Ministry at Christ Church Easton. He has worked for non-profi t organizations throughout Talbot County, including the Oxford Community Center, Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum and Academy Art Museum.