Late on our last afternoon, as snowflakes started to fly, four sandhill cranes glided into the wetlands beside the Spit. Several of the most popular restaurants in Homer were closed, making us enthusiastic regulars of Fat Olives, dishing pizzas with yeasty, bubbling crusts that could best most pies I’ve had in the Lower 48 (from $15). As Plan B, the dispatcher recommended heading a few miles north of town to hike the Diamond Creek Trail, a short, but steep, switchback route to a black-sand beach where we wandered between boulders revealed at low tide, counting the anemones and crabs left in their tide pools. Back on shore, we visited the farmer’s market for picnic supplies, stocking up on the outsize carrots and cauliflower that distinguish Alaskan vegetables planted during summer’s extended daylight conditions.īut on the next overcast and blustery morning, the Spit was deserted and the water taxi we booked canceled. Water taxis dropped and retrieved travelers at the remote state park. On the calm and mild afternoon we arrived, the Homer Spit - a roughly 4.5-mile-long lowland slicing into Kachemak Bay from mainland Homer - was bustling with shoppers strolling the stilted boardwalks. In the trade-off calculation that is fall travel in Alaska, we came out ahead, believing, as Airbnb assured us, that the yurt was a “rare find” and “usually booked.” We soon found we had this same view from our furnished yurt on a secluded hillside property with a fire ring and a modern bathroom in a neighboring tiny house ($174). Over its last few miles, the Sterling bends dramatically eastward, revealing a blufftop view that compels motorists to pause: Kachemak Bay, and on its far shore Kachemak Bay State Park, where glaciers pooled around jagged peaks.
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