Pics from our recent trip
Here are a few lovely photos from the trip that Kai and I had taken. The first photo is here at home, but the rest are in different places. Will possibly make an extended post soon.
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I live in Seward, and winter evenings here are some of my favorite times of the year. These are a few older photos from one of those nights. I went out while the sky was still a soft blue, and by the time I made it home, downtown had gone all quiet and golden under the streetlights.
It's a small town, so the whole walk is one easy loop: down to the water, back up toward the mountain behind the houses, then through the middle of town.
Blue hour over Resurrection Bay
We're tucked in at the top of Resurrection Bay, and the mountains across the water keep some of their snow pretty much all year. Around the winter solstice we get about five hours and twenty-five minutes of daylight. People hear that and wince. Thing is, blue hour starts early and lingers forever, and the bay goes this deep quiet blue I've somehow still not gotten used to.
The peaks hold on to a little pink and white after the water has already gone dark. In a couple of these you can spot a small cluster of lights on the far shore, right at the edge of the water. They look so tiny under the mountains, and for whatever reason that's what I keep coming back to.
Our beach is rocks, crusty old snow, a few tufts of dry grass. Cold out, no wind to speak of. Mostly you just hear the water shuffling the stones around.
Looking south toward the mouth of the bay, there was one thin line of orange left behind the bare trees. I stood there until it faded.
The mountain behind town
Turn around from the water and there's the mountain, sitting right over the houses like it's keeping an eye on everyone. In summer the waterfront campground fills up with RVs and visitors. In winter it's ours again: empty benches, patches of snow, and warm windows glowing here and there.
That little weathervane is a steam train, which feels right for Seward, since the Alaska Railroad ends here. Just down the street, somebody had outlined their whole house in pink lights. Little things like that make the dark months feel a lot friendlier.
Holiday lights downtown
Closer to downtown, the park gets its light sculptures every winter, and a few of the trees get wrapped from the roots up. This one goes blue, then warm white, all the way up the trunk:
Fourth Avenue after dark
By the time I got to Fourth Avenue it was fully dark. There were cars parked along the street and the neon was on, but almost nobody was out walking. Everyone was inside somewhere warm, which honestly sounded pretty good to me too. In July this street is busy all day. Come winter it kind of exhales, and that's the version of it I like best.
Coming to Seward in winter?
If you do, here's what I'd tell a friend:
- Getting here. From Anchorage it's ~125 miles on the Seward Highway, so two and a half hours give or take. Peek at road conditions first; the passes have moods.
- What's open. A lot of the summer tour boats and restaurants close for the season, but the Alaska SeaLife Center stays open year-round, and it's a lovely way to spend a slow afternoon.
- The light. Short days are kind of a gift for photos. You get a long, soft sunset and a long blue hour, and you're still home in time for dinner.
- Staying warm. Layers, and boots that grip, because the rocks by the water get icy. Tuck a spare camera battery inside your coat too, since the cold eats them.
- Northern lights. The mountains block a lot of the northern sky, so Seward isn't the easiest spot for aurora. On a strong night, though, it can happen, so keep an eye north up the bay.
Winter here is dark, sure, but it's a cozy kind of dark. Lights come on early, people stay in, and town feels like ours for a few months. That's the Seward I wanted to share.
Seward, Alaska during a winter night
A few of my old photos of the beautiful Seward, Alaska during a cold winter night.