Intersections along the Seward Highway
Where so much of life in Southcentral Alaska comes together
The first time I drove down the Seward Highway, the whole thing felt mildly dangerous. This was Alaska. I was on an adventure. What if something happened?
For those of you who live here in Alaska, I know: painfully dorky. But give me a second to explain (and catch the out-of-staters up).
At the time, I was living in NYC and my daily ride was the subway. As much as I loved driving, I didn’t do it all that often. I hadn’t owned a car in at least a decade.
The Seward is a 127-mile road that runs from Anchorage south to Seward. While there are streets and other highways that branch off of it, once you’re out of Anchorage, the Seward is the only road that runs that stretch. It’s not an oh, there’s traffic, let’s switch over to the blah blah blah kind of road.
Nope.
When there’s an accident or an avalanche or, say, a power outage along the entire Kenai Peninsula and you’re just about out of gas*, you are stuck. I’ve sat on that road for hours, just waiting.
There’s also a mountain pass where the weather can be radically different than it is down below. (Yesterday it was spring-ish in Anchorage but it was still all deep snow up on Turnagain Pass.)
All these years later, the Seward is part of my daily life. It’s what I drive to meet friends for dinner or go food shopping or to head up to a trailhead for a backpacking trip in the Chugach Mountains. One stop along it was home to the best reporting day of my life, when I got to hang out with a team that was giving wood bison medical exams. And, whenever possible, I make the drive down its length to go camping in Seward or turn off at the Tern Lake Junction to head down the Sterling Highway.
Yesterday I drove along the Seward 71 miles from Anchorage to the Hope cutoff to drive another 17 miles along the Hope Highway into the old mining town. It was a gray day and it wasn’t looking like a completely-happy tent camping night (not that it always needs to be) so I opted for a day trip. There was fun ahead: Finch would get the chance to roll around in the spring mud along Turnagain Arm and I would dine with R.V.-owning friends for dinner. (The friends made delicious tacos.)
That shift from mystery road to daily life road (with adventures mixed in) really struck me yesterday. It was a moody sky day. Perfect for a pondering-this-and-that-while-driving session.
Life (and traffic) on the Seward impacts every single person who comes through Southcentral Alaska by car or other on-the-road form of transportation. Between travelers and residents and the people doing construction and on and on, it’s amazing how many usage intersections one curvy road can have. And how it can shift over time, slowly working its way into familiarity.
Like everything in modern life, the road is also a source of much discussion on social media.
The Facebook group, Seward Highway Traffic Report, is oddly fun to follow (ok, maybe I am dorky) for its back and forth about the how-tos or how-shoulds of driving the road. (Quick note: do follow the group if you’re planning to drive the road this summer—or whenever. Drivers frequently offer up info on the road conditions. The real conditions, including wait times for construction and loads of other goodies. Come for the info and stay for the crankiness. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. Some people would describe me the same way.)
And, this summer, if you happen to end up in a Seward Highway traffic jam behind a black Kia Soul that has loads of bumper stickers on the back, say hello. There’s a good chance we’ll have hours to chat.
*A long-overdue apology to my parents on this one. They were visiting me several years back when there was a Kenai Peninsula-wide (or, I guess, peninsula-long) power outage. The rest of my family are fill your gas tank as soon as it hits half a tank people. I like to play chicken with my fuel light. So on a drive down to Homer, my “oh, we’ll get gas along the way” did not go well. After eating at the Kenai Burger Bus, we drove off to find traffic lights off, stores closing down, and my gas tank fuel light close to winning the game of chicken. Had I filled up earlier, we would have been in Homer and hanging on the beach while other drivers up and down the Kenai scouted for gas stations that both had gas and could pump gas. (Seriously, power outages shouldn’t mean that you can’t pump gas. Would one old fashioned gas pump per station really be all that bad an idea?) It took hours to find gas. Once we did, all was well. But I fully admit that I am not good at apologizing when I’ve made a stupid error in judgment and find myself embarrassed about said error. My parents know this but whatever. They still deserve an apology. OK, that’s done.
The Alaska Dog of the Week
(Want to make other people smile by gazing upon the joy that is your Alaska dog? Send a photo of your pup, her name, and three facts about her to jenna@jennaschnuer.com.)
See you next week,
Jenna
p.s. Please share the newsletter with your friends. As for the podcast? Two weeks to go. (Oh my!) Episode 1 goes live on June 1, 2021.
That Revna is one good looking gal. Loved reading about the Seward Highway. Really looking forward to your June 1 podcast.
I loved this. Dad is reading it now. Apology accepted. We had such a wonderful visit that nerves on edge because of low gas are part of the memories But please, we’re older now, for our sakes just fill up!! Remember how dad dropped the french fries all over the front seat🤪
Love you to pieces❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️