Our weekend adventure was accompanied almost non-stop with cloudy skies and a steady soaking rain.
Pete's diligence in waking up early to make our much needed coffee and fix the rib-sticking oatmeal made all the difference. And we were blessed to have a pavilion close to our campsites under which to enjoy said breakfast.
Here, I put my meager grilling skills to work and served up baked chicken marinated in Worcestershire sauce, with red potato and pineapple kabobs. Seriously, there is nothing better than grilled pineapple!
The Behrendts joined us for a fun filled Sunday. Jarred and Pete fished, disappearing around the bend in the river for what felt like 3 hours. Finally Renee and I were ready to go, so we hollered at them to come back. Pete came traipsing up to see what all the fuss was about. We explained, in what seemed to us very clear terms, that we were 'starving' and 'freezing' and that we really needed to go to the bathroom. He kissed me, said "oh, my poor soggy flower!" and then rejoined his friend. We stood, shivering, making a good business of flattening the sand on the shore with our feet. No doubt we resembled a pair of Irish Dancers with our arms at our sides and our feet ambling back and forth in an effort to stay warm. We were full of confidence in my hunny that he would fetch Jarred and return to us.
Another hour passed.
Finally we were reduced to hollering again. Our strangled cries carried to their ears on the rushing rapids of the river.
They finally came back. Glowing with victory, having had great success with the fishing.
Peter is fired from carrying messages EVER AGAIN.
After loading up we headed to Talkeetna for a delicious dinner and a stroll. The sun even peeked through to warm us up and we found a kind lady who was willing to take a pic of all of us.
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