A few hours after hiking the Moose Preserve, Drew and I began the 125 or so miles drive southward to Seward at the tip of Kenai (pronounced "key-nigh") Peninsula. The drive would take us around Turnagain Arm, a popular inlet for surfers taking advantage of the fast-moving tides.

Alaskans refer to the Kenai as their "playground" -- a rich, wooded wonderland of lakes, mountains, glacial expanses, fjords and rivers just a short drive from Anchorage. We would spend the rest of our time on the Peninsula -- camping, hiking, sea kayaking, eating large amounts of fresh seafood, and taking in the grand vistas that surrounded us on all sides.

Seward was named for William H. Seward, the U.S. Secretary of State who successfully negotiated the purchase of the Alaskan territories from Russia in 1967 at the price of 2 cents an acre. Nestled between the Kenai mountains and the looming Mount Marathon, Seward's main industry is fishing and tourism, both due to the teeming wildlife in Resurrection Bay.

The small town (pop. 3,000) blossoms in the summer with the arrival of the tourists. RVs lined the shores, B&Bs and hotels were booked full, and the camping grounds were places of constant activity. Drew and I pitched our tent at Miller's Landing, a campground we had discovered and pre-reserved on the internet the week before. I doubt I would come here again. Although they advertised showers, I would liken this shed to facilities one might find at a P.O.W. camp in Vietnam. I wasn't expecting the Park Hyatt Vendome, but frankly this was sheer nastiness. Flies and other mosquitos had conquered the bathrooms as had mold, cracks and an unconscionable stench. The shower nozels were refashioned sink sprayers that had to be held while you manually dispensed the water. Someone had etched his feelings in large letters onto the walls of one of the men's shower stalls: "this shower sucks!" I couldn't agree more. After the first day, we used bathrooms in restaurants and took advantage of showers at the ubiquitous Alaskan laundrymats. The campsite itself was decent enough and well-used, but we soon discovered that there were plenty of much cheaper locations for pitching a tent.

The long drive from Anchorage had stirred our appetites, and we wandered into town. As we soon discovered, the only thing cheap in Alaska during the summer is advice. A popular seafood place was Ray's, we were told, down by the harbour. It was our first salmon and halibut of the trip and both dishes were pleasant, if not pricey.

With rounded bellies and a few more hours to kill before sunset, Drew and I donned our fleeces for a stroll along the boardwalk. The last fishing boats of the day were settling into dock and Holland America's Ryndam cruise ship was steaming out into the Bay under the glow of the disappearing sun. Other tourists joined us in our pursuit of enjoyment, and soon we were surrounded by laughing children, lovers huddled together in the chill, and the yelps of household pets.

Our day ended, appropriately, around our campfire discussing women, politics and Alaskan wildlife. I didn't think the day could be topped, but it was.