Memories of Alaska

(July 14) – Happy to hear that our fellow travelers have reached their individual destinations safely, we have begun a day of adjusting to a time zone four hours earlier than Alaska’s. It’s been pretty much an all-day laundry experience, emptying our suitcases and getting two weeks of clothing cleaned.
Somehow it is now home that seems strange with no seagull’s cries, no steep mountainsides filled with fir trees and snow-covered peaks and no salty tang of the ocean wafting on the breeze. It’s good to be in familiar surroundings, of course, but oddly quiet without the ongoing conversation and laughter among friends.
As we try to isolate a place or an experience from our time in Alaska as the favorite, we find it’s impossible to select just one. Every day was filled with new sights, new sensations and a new appreciation of a part of this world that we had not known. Alaska is a place that can’t be fully acknowledged unless you’re there. In all the years we had read about it or seen the pictures, even the videos that purport to capture Alaska, none of that could capture the entirety of the “great land.”
On the plane from Anchorage to Minneapolis, I was lucky enough to sit next to a young woman who had lived several years in Alaska before returning to the Lower 48 for her job. She had been on a short visit back to Alaska to shepherd her daughters there for a week-long visit. She was on her way back to Nebraska to work, but longs to find her way back to Alaska permanently.
She spoke of her weekend hike in the park around Exit Glacier. She and her hiking buddy each spotted a bear, but didn’t immediately realize that they were each seeing a different bear. When they understood that there were two bears, they spotted a third. Because they are experienced in the outdoors, they made noise and left the area without an encounter that was close enough to endanger them further.
She talked of a 75-mile hike across Alaska that she and a friend had made years ago. Her eyes shone as she recounted their trek. Her enthusiasm for the grandeur and majesty of Alaska is like that of so many people we met. Even those who don’t want to live there year-round, those who don’t like the cold and dark of winters there, even those folks come back in May and stay through September. Then, of course, there are those whose hearts are so taken with Alaska’s magic that they do stay there all year and find special pleasures snowshoeing in winter or skiing under the lights at Mt. Alyeska or just snuggling up in their homes with a good book. We found libraries and interesting bookstores all over the place in our travels.
Or maybe they use the quiet times to express their love of Alaska in art. For every kitschy item we saw, many made in China or elsewhere that tourist souvenirs are manufactured, we saw as many pieces of Alaska-made art. There were beautiful paintings in every style imaginable, glorious sculptures in every medium, including whalebone. Alaskans love music, too, and every town had posters for local musicians. There were, naturally, thousands upon thousands of photographs of the scenery, the wildlife and the people. Some of their art speaks of the culture of the Native People, some of the state’s Russian influences. All of it shouts and salutes and sings the assets of the state and the seas that surround it.
I think about the morning walks that Mike and I took on the upper deck of the ship early each morning. As we went round and round the boat, mostly in mist, but sometimes in a steady rain, we marveled at the landscape around us. The Inside Passage isn’t just a marine highway to the next town; it is a thrill ride among the islands of Alaska’s panhandle where Sitka spruce and hemlock trees compete for attention with eagles nesting among the trees or soaring overhead.
The towns themselves arise out of the forest with color and humor, poking fun at themselves with silly signs or names painted on the rock faces near the docks. The buildings are painted in bright colors, showing off their survival in this remote place where even the state capital, Juneau, can’t be reached by road, but must be approached by boat or plane.
We loved seeing the float planes taking off and landing along the waterways wherever we went, from Ketchikan to Homer to Anchorage. They are symbols of the interdependence between land and sea in Alaska and the spirit of the people here to adapt to their environment and thrive in it.
I will carry with me memories of the wildlife that we saw wherever we went. First there were the eagles we saw from the ship. We were thrilled at our first stop in Ketchican to spot a pair of eagles on a nest just across the way from our balcony. We watched them from our room, then from the walking track, flying around from tree to tree, but never getting too far from their nest. We never saw any chicks, but they were protecting the nest from any and all other birds that came too close.
We laughed at the comical and totally cute sea otters, floating on their backs or diving and spinning in the water. We smiled at the sea lions and harbor seals when we saw them lazing in their blubbery piles on the rocks at bay’s edge. We fell in love with Woody, the steller sea lion at the Alaska Sea Life Center in Seward as he seemed to play with us, diving down along the window where we watched and almost posing for our cameras. One of the keepers said that he likes people. I think she was right. We were awed by the whales—the humpbacks with their signature flukes high in the air, each one with its unique pattern, and the gray whale, surfacing so near our boat that we could almost count the barnacles on its back.
I was talking with a young woman this morning who has not yet been to Alaska, but wants to go. She said her aunt and uncle have been going there for years, returning each year to soak up its beauty and refresh their souls. I understood immediately how they must feel.
All my reflections of Alaska, like the reflections of mountainsides in still waters that took our breath away with their beauty, are filled with depths of emotions that will come back to me like daytime dreams. If Alaska were a dream, it would be the best I’ve ever had. I’m eternally grateful that it is not just a dream, but a reality that will allow me to explore it again and again.

Through the Mountains and Along the Coast from Kenai to Anchorage

Kenai River below Wilderness Lodge

(July 11) – We woke in our cozy room at the Kenai Princess Wilderness Lodge and headed for the lodge to get a cup of tea and take the trail down to the river below. We had breakfast while waiting for the trail to open. It is closed until a staffer is sent down each morning to check for wildlife, hoping, we think, to frighten off any bear or moose that might be there. They would prefer not to have their guests encounter one of these dangerous animals. I’m sure they have learned through experience that no matter how often we’re told how to stay safely away from the wildlife, someone might not get the message.
The trail down is quite steep as the mountainside simply falls abruptly into the river. The Kenai River is a glacial stream, so its milky aqua waters move quickly along. There are no beaches, but the lodge has placed a few decks in the forest along the water’s edge where you can view and photograph the river.

Tern Lake

Back up to our rooms by shuttle, we cleaned up and packed the van and set off for Anchorage. Our first stop along the way was at Tern Lake where we saw waterfowl and got some nice pictures of arctic terns. They perch on tree branches at lake’s edge, then dive into the water like rockets to find their prey. There was also a common loon visible and some U.S. Forest Service rangers had a spotting scope trained on some goats high on the mountainside above.
The rangers, like most of the folks staffing everything here, are seasonal workers. They work in jobs associated with tourism during the summer months, then find other work the remainder of the year. Many of the staff at the Kenai Lodge are retired folks who spend their summers in Alaska, then return to homes in Alabama or Missouri or other places in the “Lower 48.” One of the young rangers said she finds work in a nearby town during the winter, waiting tables or clerking in stores. She loves Alaska and wants to stay here.
From Tern Lake we continued on the Sterling Highway eastward until intersecting the Seward Highway where we turned northward toward Anchorage, about 85 miles away. Winding through the mountains, the road reveals more of Alaska’s beautiful peaks and valleys, as if we haven’t already enjoyed so many.

Portage Glacier

We stopped in Portage Valley to see more glaciers. The Begich-Boggs Visitor Center there (named for two congressmen who died in a plane crash near here) provides great information, including a movie about glaciers. When the film ends, the screen goes up, curtains open and there’s a giant window looking out over the lake to Portage Glacier. Unlike Hubbard Glacier which we saw on the ship calving icebergs into the water, Portage has receded up the mountainside above the lake. Some smaller pieces of ice tumble down streams in the lake, but this is much less dramatic than our experience of Hubbard.
A fellow in the visitor center told us we could “go through the tunnel” to Whittier a few miles away for a great lunch. What he didn’t tell us is that the Anderson Tunnel is a one-way tunnel, changing direction every 15 minutes, so there can be a bit of a wait on both sides, coming and going. It’s actually a railroad tunnel that was turned into a dual-use tunnel, so cars can drive through on paving around the tracks and the trains still come through on their rails. If a train is scheduled to come through, the wait can be longer. The tunnel traffic is scheduled by computer and it’s really quite an ingenious scheme.
When our turn came, we drove through the 2.5 mile tunnel and came out in tiny Whittier on the shore of Prince William Sound. This strange little place has no housing except two buildings, one of which looks like a Soviet-era barracks, built of unpainted concrete in a very utilitarian manner. The other building, also several stories high, is at least painted. Many folks are here in summer when cruise ships come in, but very few live here in winter.

Whittier Marina

The few restaurants are small and clustered together with a couple of gift shops. We ate at the Orca Café and were lucky enough to have really well-prepared sandwiches. After taking some pictures, including photos of the reindeer in a pen next to our restaurant, we hurried a bit to make it back to get through the tunnel at the next opportunity.

Moose

When we got back to the highway, we turned again almost immediately to visit the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center, a well-designed non-profit preserve for orphaned, abandoned and injured animals. We walked and drove through, taking pictures of moose, musk oxen, elk, deer, caribou and bison. Our last stop was at the black bear enclosure where two bears got up from their naps to pose for us atop some logs. They seemed almost to be making an appearance. These were our first bear sightings, not in the wild, but we’re grateful that they are being rehabilitated.

Brown Bear

As we drove on toward Anchorage, the road wound along Turnagain Arm, a branch off Cook Inlet. In low tides, as we saw, much of Turnagain is just mud flats. On certain days, the bore tide comes with high tide as a rolling wall of water as much as six feet high, spilling the sea all the way back along the Arm. We didn’t get to see that, but the views from the roadway were spectacular nonetheless.
We checked into the Historic Anchorage Hotel which is on the National Register of Historic Places. It’s been refurbished nicely and we found a warm welcome and spacious rooms in a convenient downtown location.
We met a woman who used to work for Cox to have dinner at a nearby restaurant she recommended. She now manages a TV station here in Anchorage and, after two years in Alaska, knows where the good food is to be found. We had a delicious meal at Ginger, billed as a “Pacific Rim” cuisine.
We enjoyed the evening and, as has been the case each night on this trip, went to bed well-fed and weary. We have had no problem going to bed while it’s still light outside, but have often been surprised by how late it’s gotten because it hasn’t gotten dark. Most nights we’ve been up until close to midnight.
Tomorrow we have a list of places our local friend suggested, in addition to a couple of ideas we’ve developed. It should be another busy day.

Anchorage: Alaska's Big City

Lee and the Bear

(July 12) – Morning in Anchorage didn’t come quite as early for us as usual. We slept in just a little, then had our continental breakfast downstairs and met our fellow travelers at 9:00.


We had mapped out a few places we wanted to see, so started off to visit them. The first stop was at the Alaskan Ulu Factory. Ulus are traditional curved native knives that we’ve seen everywhere here. They are used to chop vegetables (or whatever), usually in rounded wooden bowls that have the same curve as the knife.

Deciding that our luggage is already likely to be overweight for our return to Charlotte tomorrow, we opted not to purchase an ulu. I did find a gift for a friend that I think she will like. This completes the short list I had for gifts from Alaska for family and friends.

Our next stop, oddly enough, was at the Alaska Mill and Feed Company. This was recommended by our friend last night as the place to buy everything a dog might need, including some special treats marketed as Yummy Chummies. These are made from salmon and are the dog treat of choice here. Thus, our sweet Annie will have a new taste in treats.

Alaskans love their dogs and, of course, when sledding with them in snowy conditions, depend on them for their lives. In the state that is home to the 1,000 mile Iditarod, one can appreciate that dogs are very special creatures to their owners.

Next on our list was the Wildride Sled Dog Show, another suggestion from our friend here in Anchorage. She said it is a bit touristy, but fun AND they always have Husky puppies. It wasn’t open when we went by, so we deferred that till later.

We headed south to find an artist’s studio. Her name is V Rae and we saw her paintings at the Alaska Sea Life Center in Seward. Her subjects are animals, primarily Alaskan animals, including some who live at the Sea Life Center. Her work falls into two categories, one representational and the other whimsical. We liked both and had picked up a card that said she has a studio near Anchorage, so we called and asked if we could come by.

V's Pond

V and her husband live in a wonderfully creative home on a hilltop with a fabulous view of Turnagain Arm. They bought the house, gutted it and then decorated it, doing much of the work themselves. It is filled with creative touches, including one her husband suggested—using a 4-foot tall chrome tool box as part of the kitchen cabinets. It fits in beautifully and provides great drawer spaces for utensils, etc. Everywhere in their home, both inside and out are the evidences of their ingenuity, including some turned chrome-plated piping that came from oil-drilling rigs.

The home is also her studio, so her work is on display throughout. We purchased our first piece as did Ellen and Mark. They will be shipped to us when they are produced on canvas. My hope would be to collect her work over time. We will enjoy it for the memories of our time in Alaska, as well as for the sheer talent visible in every line and every color used. She calls some of her work “expressionist.”

We went from that wonderful spot to the creek below their house in the hope that we would see salmon jumping in their stream, but saw neither salmon nor the grizzly that V has seen in recent weeks.

Potter Marsh

Our next stop was the Potter Marsh Bird Sanctuary, just below V’s house. It’s a wonderful spot in sight of Turnagain Arm and is home to birds and ducks and eagles. Since it was midday, we didn’t see much life in the marsh, but did see a bald eagle and got photographs of it soaring over us as it flew around for several minutes. They are such regal creatures and we feel lucky to have seen so many.

The restaurant V and her husband had recommended for lunch was not open on Monday, so we found another where we had good food, except for a piece of wood or vine that Judy unearthed in her chicken salad. The proprietor was wise enough not to charge her for the food when that was brought to his attention.

We took a little while to explore a little of Kincaid Park, a huge public park along Cook Inlet near the airport. There are, they say, moose and bear there, but we didn’t see them. The guidebook says you can see Mt. McKinley, North America’s tallest mountain, on some days. It’s 90 miles away and was not visible to us today.

We headed back to town and discovered that the Sled Dog show is an evening dinner show. Since we already had reservations at Sack’s Cafe, a place recommended highly by Ellen and Mark’s friends, we decided to pass on that.

We went back to the hotel to leave our extras—binoculars, packages, etc.—then walked around town for a little while before meeting for our evening wine and cheese. Then we walked a couple of blocks to the restaurant which turned out to be everything wonderful that had been said about it. We returned to the hotel in the cool of the evening and said our goodbyes since we’ll all be on separate flights home by 10:00 AM tomorrow.

Anchorage Blooms

Everywhere in Anchorage we’ve seen beautiful flowers. They are in hanging baskets throughout the downtown area, in pots and flower boxes along the sidewalks, on the sides of buildings and in flower beds in the parks. They come in vibrant colors of purple, orange, yellow, blue and red. There are petunias, roses, firewood, lupine, roses and so many with names I don’t know. They have brightened our days here and led us to believe that folks here have a great pride in their home.

It will be hard to leave Alaska tomorrow. As much as I look forward to going home to see loved ones and sleep in my own bed, I will leave a huge part of my heart here. This is an extraordinary place, rife with natural beauty and stunning vistas. It is full of color and grandeur. The people are friendly and independent-minded, here because they have chosen the freedom of this life and the uniqueness of this place, unbowed by any hardships that come with it.

Mike and I will remain grateful to Ellen for the planning that brought us here. We will remember our times with our friends fondly and will relive the trip in pictures in the years to come.

Our group at Sack's Cafe

There is no question in my mind that we must come back to Alaska, both to see again the places we’ve seen and to explore those places we missed. I will encourage everyone I know to come here, as well. It’s an experience not to be missed.
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]

Farewell to Homer as We Return North to Cooper Landing

Eagle with food in talons

(July 10) – We awoke to enjoy our last morning on Homer Spit and to celebrate Mike’s birthday. Outside our window the sun shone on the peaks across Kachemak Bay. Outside our window, the fishing boats moved out across the water and gulls and a lone sea otter were bobbing along.
Bill had arisen early to go on a half-day fishing excursion. Judy slept in and Mike and I met Mark and Ellen to have breakfast at the Fresh Sourdough Express Bakery and Café. We were impressed yesterday with their menu and decided we had to try them for breakfast.
None of us was disappointed with our choice. The food was really tasty and filling and we were lucky enough to get a table without much of a wait, despite the completely full parking lot and the obvious popularity of the place. In addition to good food, we entertained ourselves sharing tales of our travels.

Eagle Pair

As we headed back out to the hotel, we saw a pair of bald eagles atop a tall pole by the road. Mike and Mark got out of the van to take pictures. There appeared to be some nesting materials under the eagles, but we were unable to see any chicks, if any were there.
We picked Judy up at the hotel and went into Homer proper to wander among some of the galleries there. Once again, we found that there are quite a few local artists here with prodigious talent in every imaginable medium. In one shop, we saw a sculpture made of eating utensils and other commonly available metal objects, all combined to look like a very detailed motorcycle. It was so realistic, it almost appeared rideable.

Beautiful cranes

While I was in one of the galleries, I heard a woman say that she had seen a moose and two babies earlier as she walked down from her shop up the hill from the gallery. We got in our van and headed up there to see if we could see our first moose of the trip. Sure enough, I spotted her a block away and Mark was able to turn the van into the street so that we saw her as she ran behind a house into hiding. Although we didn’t get her photo, we were excited to see a moose at all. Mike did get a picture of two large cranes that were walking across a yard, the red on their faces marking them as sandhill cranes, we thought.
It was time to pick up Bill from his fishing trip, so we went back out to Homer Spit, found him and took him to the hotel to take a shower. While he cleaned up, some of us went into the hotel restaurant for tea and coffee. We learned there that the cleaning staff we had seen in long dresses are from the Russian community up the bay. Their distinctive dress is part of their culture.
We left Homer and made our way north to Anchor Point where we stopped at the Blue Bus Diner for lunch. It’s a pretty rustic little diner with an old blue school bus built into one end of the building. The woman who owns and runs it moved to Alaska from Minnesota and has stayed because it’s a warmer climate along the coast. I guess most places are warmer than Minnesota in winter, even Alaska.
She made good hamburgers and sweet potato fries and we all ate without a care for any diets. As we left, she was asked by a potential customer about the shrimp on the menu. She went into the kitchen and brought out a bag of frozen shrimp to show him. I left without seeing his reaction to this revelation of her culinary secrets.

Ninilchik's Russian Orthodox Church

As we drove on, we stopped in Ninilchik to see their church. It is the Transfiguration Church of Our Lord Russian Orthodox Church, set high on a bluff overlooking Cook Inlet with four little onion domes atop its roof. After an initial wrong turn that took us into the little village that has only walking access up to the church, we found our way back out to the highway and along a different road toward the church.
Ellen spotted a moose feeding in a field just off the road. Mike and Bill got some pictures before Ms. Moose ducked deeper into the woods out of sight. It thus became a two-moose day.
A nice lady offered to tour us in the tiny church filled with icons. The building was originally finished in 1901 and has been raised since then, but kept virtually intact, covering the log walls inside and out with other materials to preserve it. Some of the icons within the church are old, but no records are available to tell us just how old they are or when they came into the church. Some newer icons were commissioned in recent years by a member of the congregation.
Apparently those attending services can be as few as four or five on some occasions or too many to fit into the tiny building on feast days. The priest assigned to the church was away today, fishing. He supports his family with commercial fishing and the family fishes to store food to get through the winter months.
We have now arrived at our hotel for tonight, the Kenai Princess Wilderness Lodge on a mountainside above the Kenai River in Cooper Landing. We have lovely cabin rooms with wood stoves and wood to burn in them. We'll have dinner in the lodge and enjoyed a quiet night here before heading for Anchorage tomorrow. With each day full of activity and traveling, we got to bed weary and sleep soundly.
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]

Homer and Halibut Cove—Alaskan Treasures

Morning on Kachemak Bay

(July 9) – Morning in Homer and the beauty of Kachemak Bay glows outside our windows. Fishing boats appear every few minutes, heading out to the halibut grounds. Mike was up earlier and caught the rosy glow of sunrise over the Kenai Mountains, part of the Aleutian Range that flows down the peninsula and out into the sea on the Aleutian Islands all the way to Attu.
Mike and I had breakfast here at the Land’s End Resort in the dining room. The day began so sunny that we had to lower the blinds at our windowside table because it was too bright! Believe me when I tell you that such bright sunshine has not been visible often on this trip. If we saw it, it was briefly seen between clouds.
None of this is a complaint, however. The magnificence of the scenery here depends on the rainforest ecosystem. Rain in quantity insures the lushness of the greenery and the abundance of snow that ices the mountain peaks. We brought sufficient rain gear and, though often somewhat wet, we’ve reveled in the cool, damp climate.

After breakfast, we wandered across the road to take a picture of a bald eagle sitting atop a light pole, surveying the water for its breakfast. No matter how many of these birds we see, we continue to admire their majesty.

We met our friends in late morning to pick up our tickets for the “Danny J,” our boat to Halibut Cove on the other side of Kachemak Bay. It’s an old, but well-maintained wooden boat with deck seating, officially known as the Kachemak Bay Ferry. Our captain, Sydney Bishop, and her deckhand, Elsa (Sydney’s lovely daughter) provided red-and-black checked blankets to help us keep warm as we cross the water. There were about 35 of us on board for the trip.
A little further research tells us that the "Danny J" brought soldiers to Homer in 1941. She could hold 75 men. Later the boat was used by halibut fishermen, before it was bought by Sydney's family to use as a ferry to the Cove.

Gulls and Puffin on Bird Island

First stop was Gull Island, a group of rocky outcrops out in the bay where gulls and murres and puffins and cormorants gather to nest and fish and, perhaps, party a bit. Their cries filled the air as Sydney skillfully maneuvered the boat around them, getting us close enough for good photo opportunities while she identified the birds and talked about their behavior.
On the nearby shore of other islands, we saw eagles nesting high in the trees as we motored along on our way to Halibut Cove. Then, as we came toward the cove, we passed in sigh t of a natural arch on one end of the island. As we actually entered the cove itself, its beauty unfolded and we all felt the magic of this beautiful place where Sydney and others live in a community linked by boats and boardwalks that cling to the cliffsides. There are no cars in Halibut Cove.

Halibut Cove

Right away, we knew that we must come here again. All around the cove, the mountains rise as steep slopes, rock faces topped by the green of grassy cliff tops with forested slopes rising even higher behind that. Houses on pilings in the water are set against the cliffs, as are restaurants, shops and galleries. A boardwalk attached to the cliff face meanders around one side of the cove.
Captain Sydney expertly pulled the Danny J alongside a floating dock and we climbed up the ramp to enter the Saltry Restaurant. This is obviously an artist’s domain with its polished wooden walls and floor and tables surfaced with mosaics. The menu tells the story of the owner, who is indeed an artist, Marian Beck (and Sydney's cousin), who grew up here. Her mother was a well-known Alaska artist, Diana Tillion, whose gallery sits up above on the crest of the island.
After a wonderful meal that included local dishes, including one of the best seafood stews I’ve ever enjoyed, we walked around the boardwalk. We climbed up a hill and passed through a pasture with horses on both sides. Marian Beck raises Morgan horses here and has been teased by her cousins for her passion, they claiming to call her the "horse lady."
Over the hill and down again, we regained the boardwalk and went into a gallery featuring the work of several Halibut Cove artists. These artists paint and sculpt, produce beautiful jewelry and wonderful depictions of Alaskan animals in copper relief. It’s quite an array of talent.
We continued on the boardwalk, meeting the restaurant owner, Marian, along the way. We passed a house with a sign indicating it’s for rent for visitors. Mark, our coffee lover, wandered down to a quaint shop at the end of a pier.
I wandered up off the boardwalk via a stairway that leads to the hilltop gallery that was Diana Tillion’s until her death. Her work is displayed inside. Famous for her drawings of Alaskan scenes using octopus ink, Ms. Tillion’s work has been shown all over the world.

The Danny J at Halibut Cove Dock

Our time in Halibut Cove passed much too quickly. We hurried back to the dock and boarded the Danny J. With rain beginning to fall, Elsa distributed ponchos to all who wanted one and we settled onto the deck for the ride back to Homer Spit. Thanks to the ponchos, we stayed relatively dry, if chilled, for the ride of about 45 minutes.
Back at the marina, the rain abated and we left our ponchos aboard the boat and headed back to our van. We decided to head toward toward town and find a place to get hot coffee, cocoa and tea to warm up. We found the perfect place, called the Fresh Sourdough Express Bakery and Café. In addition to our drinks, we discovered they make fabulous apple pie.
The restaurant began in 1982 when Donna and Kevin Maltz came here to sell baked goods from a glorified cart. Their baking skills led to success and the development of this restaurant. The original cart is parked out in front for kids to play on. The décor of stained glass and natural wood, as well as the tie-dyed tee shirts worn by many of the staff, including the owner, Donna, reflect the bakery’s free-spirited style. They believe in local foods and much of their menu is created from organic ingredients. All of it is delicious.

Sea otters float on their backs a lot

We headed back to the hotel, dried off a bit, then met for our evening wine and peanut butter chat that has been a nice social hour each evening during the trip. Then we headed out to experience another of Homer’s well-known culinary options.
Fat Olive’s is an Italian restaurant, well-known for its pizzas, including a 28-inch size that is simply huge. We watched the cooks slinging the dough around before loading the pies with all types of ingredients. Our wait for a table was more than a half-hour because it’s a place that doesn’t take reservations and has a loyal following of both locals and tourists. In addition to those who eat in at Fat Olive’s, there is a steady stream of customers picking up pizzas.
We all agreed the restaurant deserves its reputation. The aroma of tomato sauce and baking pizza dough is seductive. The food itself is generously served and well-prepared. It was delectable!
Back to the hotel we went, once again to fall into our beds gratefully and sleep well. It’s been great to wake up each morning looking forward to the sights we know we’ll see each day.
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]

Seward to Homer: The Charms of the Kenai Peninsula

(July 8) – Breakfast in Seward was back at Alaska Nellie’s Roadhouse this morning. Nellie’s was busy, but had room for us and fed us well. They even served grits AND prepared them well.
We headed out of town in the direction of Homer, roughly 170 miles away at the end of the Kenai Peninsula, west and south of Seward. We stopped not far out of town to see the Exit Glacier in the Kenai Fjords National Park (KFNP). We keep remembering that there are said to be 100,000 glaciers in Alaska and we marvel anew at such a plethora of ice.

The news of the day included a story of hikers in the KFNP who were attacked by a bear. Everywhere in the Park we saw warning signs about the potential to come face to face with bears in the woods there. We didn’t see any bears, but saw a vehicle that had come there from Argentina. The folks had a huge map on the side of their car showing their path up through the Americas to Alaska.
Moving on down the road, we stopped to walk around near a boat launch on the Kenai River where we could see mountain goats high on a mountainside. Without binoculars, they were just tiny white spots against the green of the mountain. Even with the aid of binoculars, we couldn’t be sure they were goats rather than sheep. Again, there were signs of caution about bears.
Ellen had heard about a book that details Alaska’s roads, milepost by milepost. We found it very useful in knowing where we were and what was nearby along the way. We could identify the lakes and rivers we passed and we were amazed to find warnings about “Moose Danger Zones” along the highway. Apparently there have been many accidents involving cars and moose. The animals are so huge that such collisions can be fatal to all concerned.

Then we drove on to Cooper Landing to Gwin’s Lodge, a log cabin eatery and store with cabins for rent just between the Kenai River and the Russian River. We’ll be coming back to Cooper Landing in a couple of days to stay at a different lodge nearby. Gwin’s lunch today was hearty (including smoked salmon chowder) and good. We took advantage of a sale in the store to buy souvenirs and presents for the people back home.
This is sport fishing country -- in a big way. We passed one of many fishing charter companies and saw a group of men standing in front of a rack on which their catch of the day was displayed. They had a row of huge halibuts hanging there and looked quite proud of themselves. I don’t think any of the fish was close to the weight of the unofficial record halibut that weighed more than 460 pounds, but these guys had achieved what they wanted to accomplish, to come home with a big fish.
We stopped here and there along the road, once to attempt to capture four volcanoes that are part of the Pacific “ring of fire.” Because they are all the way across Cook Inlet from the highway, the nearest of the four is more than 50 miles away and the farthest two are more than 80 miles away. One of them, Mount Redoubt, only 54 miles away, erupted fairly recently. The cloudy conditions made this a difficult photograph, but the sight of that mountain range with snowy tops is an awe-inspiring sight.

The wildflowers are blooming everywhere along the roads here. There are beautiful blue and white lupines and some flowers that look like Queen Anne’ Lace, but are much larger than those we see in the Southeast. We found out later that these are called Pootschki or Cow Parsnip and if you touch them, you’ll break out in blisters. If they are burned, just breathing in the smoke can blister your esophagus. While Alaska has no snakes or reptiles, it does have a number of “defensive” plants that can hurt the uninformed.
We drove through the town of Soldotna, a fishing mecca that actually has many of the oh-so-American fast food outlets that we haven’t seen along our way until now. There was also, however, the local bakery with a sign outside that said something like: “When the aliens come, they’ll eat the skinny blondes first with a side of one of our muffins.” That, we’re thinking, is Alaskan humor.
Not far from Soldotna is Clam Gulch. As you might imagine from its name, it is famous for clam-digging and specifically for the razor clams that abound here. You have to have a license to dig and the rules for harvesting them are very specific as to the number one can take, regardless of size.
We cruised through Anchor Point, a little town that bills itself as “the westernmost highway point in Alaska.” It sits at the mouth of Cook Inlet, not far beyond Ninilchik with its famous and tiny old Russian Orthodox Church with onion domes. Once again, the influence of Russian history in Alaska was visible.

The road turns further south toward Homer and we stopped at a park overlooking Kachemak Bay to gaze across at the Kenai Mountains on the other side as we entered Homer, “The Halibut Capital of the World.” Homer lies along the end of the Kenai Peninsula, then actually stretches farther out into the bay on the 4.5 miles of Homer Spit, a narrow bit of land that ends at our hotel, the Land’s End Resort.
The spit itself is a mélange of RV’s, shops, hotels, boat marinas, campgrounds and other tourist sights. It’s not a pretty sight, but sits in the middle of gorgeous natural surroundings. Across the water from our hotel is the Grewingk Glacier in the middle of the long line of mountain peaks.

We’ve seen bald eagles, both sitting atop poles along the spit and flying nearby over the water. They are such a common sight that wildlife regulations remind us that it’s illegal to feed them. However much they seem at home close to people here, they are still wild creatures and deserve our respect and awe. In some Alaska communities recently, there have been stories about eagles hurting people, apparently because there’s more proximity than is wise.
We went out to dinner at Café Cups, a very kitschy little restaurant in a colorful building in Homer. The décor was inventive and the food was delicious. Coming back to the hotel after 11PM, we saw sea otters floating on their backs in the bay and an eagle perched atop a nearby light pole. It is, of course, still quite light at this time of night here in summer, but the sun was “setting” and tinting the tops of clouds a glorious pink color. We’ve had a long and pleasant day and will sleep well, no matter how light it is outside!

[Note: My apologies for any typos or strange construction in these Alaska posts. Many of them have been written very late and haven't undergone the rigors of editing from which they might have benefitted if Mike and I read and corrected them before publishing. I hope they give you some sense of the wonders we're experiencing in this magnificent place.]
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]

Land Ho and We're in Seward

(July 8) - Morning came with the sunshine that has been rare on this trip and we were docked early in Seward, coming into the harbor through Resurrection Bay circled by snow-covered peaks. Seward seems to be a working town, the port for much of Alaska's commercial traffic, including cruise ships. Anchorage is further north and has its own port, but the bigger ships come here.

We left the ship after breakfast and made our way to Hertz to get our rental van for the next few days' travel around the Kenai Peninsula. Our traveling companion, Ellen, made the arrangements and made sure that we got a van with enough room for the six of us and all our luggage. She brought fudge to the rental agent and that may have been the secret ingredient that got us our spacious van rather than something smaller. There's a lot of competition for vehicles in summer here as everyone wants to explore Alaska.

The town has been busy through the July 4th holiday with a marathon race that goes up and down a very steep mountain overlooking the harbor. Apparently it drew 20,000 people, but we are finding that most of them are gone. There are other tourists besides us, but nothing like the thousands that they tell us were here last week.

We are booked into the Seward Hotel, an interesting and kitschy old building right in town. There are stuffed and mounted animals all over the lobby and lots of Victorian touches like the lamp next to me as I write this--the lamp shade has beads hanging all around it.

Our rooms are fairly recently refurbished and large and comfortable with wonderful views of the harbor. I'm told that new ownership that bought it four years ago has spent that time completely remodeling.

Of course, when it comes to the view, it's a great view WHEN the harbor is visible. It's been a rainy day and as night falls the mist is obscuring the mountains all around us. The peaks that were crystal clear earlier today now can be seen only as ghost images through the milky obscurity of the mist and fog.

We went to the Sea Life Center a block or so from the hotel. It's right on the harbor and has a remarkable exhibit for such a small town. We enjoyed our time there, photographing a steller sea lion who played and posed for us. They tell us he's quite sociable and likes people and his behavior reflects that. We also photographed their harbor seal. Both animals have habitat above and below the water with wonderful viewing areas where you can see them swim through the glass.

Their exhibits include all sorts of marine life. They also operate rescue and rehabilitation services for injured sea creatures. It's a really special place and we appreciated the opportunity to explore and learn there.

We lunched at Nellie's Alaska Roadhouse, just a block over from our hotel. Most places here serve fresh halibut and other seafood, prepared in whatever way suits you. Nellie's is named for a woman whose dream when she was a child in the Midwest was to come to Alaska. Ultimately she made her way here and was apparently quite a character.

We spent an hour or so wandering through the shops on Fourth Street, seeing all sorts of Alaskan made items, as well as products from all over the world. The cost of living here is expensive because so much of what sustains life has to be imported from elsewhere. Many of the places in Alaska cannot be reached by road, so things have to be brought in by ship or plane.

The rain had returned while we were at lunch, so we retreated to our hotel rooms to rest before dinner. Another short walk to Christo's Palace and we had a good dinner from their very electic menu--Italian, Mexican, Alaskan and Greek.

The challenge to Seward businesses is to keep going through the winter when the cruise boats and tourists aren't here. The transportation of coal out of the port and the fishing industry are the stable businesses that provide employment for the 2800 full-time residents.

As with other places we've visited in Alaska, many folks live here during the summer months, then go to live in warmer places the remainder of the year. If they are still wage-earners, they have to go elsewhere to find jobs. If they are retired, they just don't want to winter in the conditions here.

This is where the famous Iditarod sled race starts. That, of course, is a winter event, but we did see brochures today for "summer dog sledding." We also saw a beautiful Husky today on the sidewalk in town, but he is a pet rather than a working mushing dog.

We look forward to a good night's sleep, then we're off on the road to Homer tomorrow. It's about three-and-a-half hours from here, but we anticipate taking our time so may meander that way through the day, stopping to take photos, have lunch, etc. The nice thing about this trip is that we're on our own schedule and the group is easy-going and just happy to be here, so no pressure to do anything other than enjoy the beauty and pleasure of this time together.
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]

Sitka to Seward—Awesome Ice and a Foggy Sea

(July 6) – We left Sitka yesterday and rolled and pitched in the ocean as the ship moved northward toward the Gulf of Alaska and a side trip by the Hubbard Glacier this morning. When Mike and I hit the walking trip this morning about 6:20 or so, we were coming into Yakutat Bay. As we walked the next half-hour, the ship moved up Disenchantment Bay, an arm of Yakutat, to where Hubbard Glacier comes down to the water.

Not only does the Hubbard come down here from its beginning 76 miles away in the Yukon Territory, but two other smaller glaciers, the Turner and the Haenke hit the water here as well. On our approach, the water became thicker and thicker with chunks of ice, some white with the glowing blue of rock flours and other floes blackened by the rock of the moraine beneath the glaciers. As the ice moves over rock, it grinds it into a sort of gravel and carries it along.

We began hearing the ice, too. The smaller pieces make snapping and popping sounds as they float by. (Some wag dubbed them “ice krispies.”) This was only the beginning of our audio experience.

Not only is Hubbard Glacier visible, but it’s audible with the growling thunder we heard as the glacier is calving (losing chunks into the sea). Because the captain was able to bring the ship in close to the glacier, we were circling in a sort of icy amphitheatre and the booming of the glacier as pieces were breaking off was stereophonic.

In the midst of this icy splendor, we spent the first hours of the morning marveling at the grandeur and beauty of it all. To see the glacier up close is astounding. It is a river of ice, appearing to have been poured from some giant unseen bucket down the slopes of the mountains toward the sea. As we learned, Hubbard is actually famous for “surging” or moving forward quickly (as glaciers go).

It was somewhat daunting to be so close and hear that Hubbard hit the news in 1986 when it advanced into the mouth of Russell Fiord dammed it into a lake with the water rising to 90 feet above sea level. At that point, the glacier was advancing 30 meters a day. When that dam broke a bit later, the rush of water was like a tsunami.

Hubbard surged again in 2002. So, it’s possible that it could happen again. Of course, captains of ships like ours are cautious and won’t go as close if the ice is coming down dangerously fast. They are understandably cautious, so we were lucky to have the right conditions today for such a close-up view. It was Hubbard in 3-D for us and truly awesome to behold.

Leaving Yakutat Bay to sail out into the Gulf of Alaska toward Seward, we are having yet another misty, foggy trip. We could see the steep mountainsides as we left the bay and watched for harbor seals on the ice floes and bears on the dark beaches along the shore, but didn’t catch sight of anything much, just one seal’s head popping up beside a floe.

Our day and the night to come will most likely be spent rolling on the sea in a dense fog. The ship has provided lots of activities and, of course, lots of food and drink to amuse us. We have to have our checked luggage packed and ready for pickup by 11 tonight, so most folks are getting that done between trips to the bar or the ship’s store for those ever-popular last day sale items.

I haven’t been able to keep my sea legs under me today, nor have most passengers. The rolling is somewhat unpredictable, so we wobble and wander our way down the hallways and through the common areas, trying not to run into each other or the walls and furniture. We appear much like drunken penguins, unsteady on our feet and often suddenly veering sideways rather than keeping a straight course. I suspect those with motion sickness aren’t having much fun in this sea.

We’ll go to the crew “capers” tonight to see what talents they might possess. They have been unfailingly pleasant and helpful, obviously well recruited and trained for these jobs that keep them at sea for six months at a time. While they are seeing the world, some of our crew have revealed a wistfulness for home and family in our conversations.

It has been a great cruise. I suppose one could complain about the few sunny days we’ve had (and some do), but this feels like a genuine experience of Alaska to us. After all, we’re in a rainforest, visiting places that have hundreds of inches of rain each year. All that rain creates this incredibly lush ecosystem and supports the abundant wildlife that we came to see. So the rain does seem to belong here.

Tomorrow morning we’ll leave the ship in Seward and spend a day there before heading out to Homer on the Kenai Peninsula where we’ll wander and sightsee for a few days before heading home.

Sitka, or How I Fell in Love with Sea Otters and Decided to Move to Alaska

(July 5) – Have I mentioned that I’ve fallen in love with Alaska? As I write this, we are leaving Sitka, a glorious town on its own little archipelago. The town itself is on Baranof Island, but all around it are other small islands, some just large enough for a single home, some a bit larger and many uninhabited by people.

As we approached our anchorage this morning, we saw the charming little town with its historic buildings spread along the shore. Its Russian heritage is quickly visible in the onion dome of St. Michael’s Russian Orthodox Church in the center of town. Unlike previous ports on this cruise, Sitka does not dock ships of our size, so we anchored a short distance from their pier. The ship’s tenders provide transportation to and from the pier.

We had an early excursion billed as a Sea Otter and Wildlife Quest. The excursion boat, a big comfortable catamaran, picked us up from the ship and we headed out into the sound. Both the captain and the tour guide on board offered commentary as we motored south along the shore of Baranof Island and in and out of the smaller islands nearby. Both these spokespeople were wonderfully knowledgeable and adept at both spotting and explaining what we were there to see.

We left the Inside Passage overnight to come to Sitka, so Sitka Sound opens into the Pacific Ocean unlike the places we’ve visited up till now which were all protected from the ocean. This allows lots of wildlife to come in easily from the ocean. It also makes for bigger waves. Some of the folks on our boat were looking a bit woozy at times. Fortunately, neither Mike nor I have trouble with motion sickness.

Before we had gone very far, we saw a group of female sea otters, happily floating on the surface in a kelp bed. They use the kelp to anchor themselves. Many of these girls had babies on their bellies. That’s where the babies live for their first few months of life. Sea otters are among the cutest mammals with their sweet faces full of whiskers and their front flippers tucked onto their chests and back flippers sticking straight up.

While our captain was careful not to get too close too quickly, he was truly skillful at getting us close enough to see these amazing mammals with binoculars and even with just our eyes sometimes. He also managed to “spin” the boat each time we saw something so that folks on both sides could see. As it was raining, our deckhand went around the outside of the windows more than once to squeegee the windows to improve visibility. These folks are true professionals!

We saw some steller sea lions at a distance, again looking like those we saw during our photo excursion in Juneau. It’s a bit like seeing overweight, pink naked ladies lounging on the rocks.

We found a group of harbor seals in a pile on another rock. This group was gray in color, but rounded with blubber and looking for all the world as if they were on the beach in Miami. There was no sun, of course, as this was an overcast and rainy day. We were told that they get on the rocks when the tide is flowing over the surface, and then the seals are left on the rocks when the tide goes out. When the water rises again, the seals float off. Despite their size (and they are enormous), they are very swift and agile when swimming.

What we learned as the boat moved to another area was that the females travel together and the males travel with other males. Apparently once a year, for a brief period, the males and females find each other, romance blooms (or what passes for romance with sea otters) and they mate. Other than that, it’s not a co-ed lifestyle.

Thus when we found the next group, they were all males, some showing the whiter faces that indicate they are the elder otters. We watched a couple of smaller, perhaps younger males as they dove over and around one another and lunged at each other, seeming to play together.

Since we’re still in the rainforest that extends up this coast from Oregon to Alaska, the islands are densely wooded with the mix of Sitka spruce and Western Hemlock that we’ve seen elsewhere, The landscape provides a rich habitat for brown bear (not that we’ve seen one yet), bald eagles, black-tailed deer and other wildlife.

There are bald eagles all around and on one small island we were treated to the sight of an eagle’s nest. Though we didn’t see the parents, an eaglet popped its head up occasionally, drawing oohs and aahs from the crowd. The word from the naturalists is that only 40 percent of the young ones survive to adulthood; many deaths occur when the young ones make their first attempt at flight.

Per our commentator, there are 100,000 bald eagles in North America today. Of those, 75,000 are in Alaska. Those statistics seem believable to us as we’ve seen so many of them all along our way. Once on the endangered list, they are now a vibrant population and no matter how many I see, I’m thrilled each time.

Along the beach on one island, we saw two black-tailed deer. They are much smaller than the whitetails we see at Lake Lure. Once again we were lucky because they didn’t immediately run back into the forest, but tolerated our boat coming relatively close to the beach so that we could see and photograph them.

The hope we would see whales was more than realized. A gray whale surfaced not far from the boat and as we watched it came up again and again, once very close to the side of the boat. It was so close that its barnacles were clearly visible.

Soon we spotted a humpback whale in the bay nearby. We tracked along near it for awhile as it dove and surfaced close to the shore. Because the mountains here are so steep, as that slope extends beneath the water, the area along the shore is immediately deep rather than deepening gradually.

We spent a truly exciting three hours on the boat, enjoying the opportunity to see both the beauty of islands and water and the great wildlife. We’re not only seeing a lot, but learning so much that we didn’t know with the help of good guides. Did you know, for instance, that the sea otter’s fur is so thick that you can attempt to find the skin on its pelt but won’t be able to move the hair aside to see skin? We had a piece of otter pelt on board to test this for ourselves.

We also learned that sea otters have a sort of pocket in the fur under one arm where they keep a stone to use to crack open shells to eat the meat inside. They choose and keep one stone in that pocket, pulling it out to use as needed. As comical as their behavior can seem, they are pretty intelligent creatures, these sea otters.

The tour boat dropped us off at the pier in town and we wandered around a bit, making sure to step into little St. Michael’s Church. Built in the mid-1800’s, it was destroyed by a fire in 1996. It was rebuilt with the original plans and is open to visitors. Some of the icons and relics were rescued from the fire and are displayed in all their golden splendor. Many of the buildings in Sitka are on the National Register and a very sweet Tlingit lady at the church told me that the entire town was named an historic town, the only town on our west coast to be so designated.

We are now back out in the open ocean, sailing north up the coast. There’s a pretty thick fog, so there’s not much to see outside right now but the water. We’re rolling more out here than we’ve done in more protected waters and it’s a bit like being rocked, so we should sleep well tonight. We’ll sail overnight and spend part of tomorrow sailing in sight of the Hubbard Glacier. It will be our last full day on the ship. It’s hard to believe that we’ve been aboard almost a week and seen so much of this amazing state.

One thing is sure. We want to come back and will make sure we do. We still have a few days after we disembark in Seward Wednesday morning to explore the Kenai Peninsula and Anchorage, so there’s more to come.

Oh, about me moving to Alaska—I don’t really plan to move, but would seriously consider coming to live for a month just to have the opportunity to explore more.
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]

Skagway: A Little Town with a Big History

July 4) - Awaking early this Independence Day morning, we found ourselves sailing in the Lynn Canal, a deepwater fiord called the Taiya Inlet which runs 90 miles north of Juneau. As we walked on deck, Mike and I watched as we approached and docked at the little town of Skagway. With reservations for an early sightseeing excursion, we got ourselves ready, ate breakfast, and went down the gangway to find our tour manager.

A train track runs along the harbor frontage in Skagway, just below a rock face on which images have been painted remembering ships that have docked here over the years, all surrounding a large representation of a skull. Unlike our dockings in Ketchikan and Juneau, Skagway’s harbor is a few minutes walk from the small town laid out on the flat delta of the Skagway river where it comes down at the base of the mountains. The name of the town is translated from a Tlingit reference to “the northern winds.” We found out as the day wore on that the winds are a significant force.

Our train, the famous White Pass and Yukon Route, arrived on the track as promised with its old-fashioned cars named for lakes. We boarded our car, appropriately named the Lake Annie (recalling our Shih-Tzu, Annie) and began as ascent up the mountains to the White Pass, following the trail used by would-be miners in the Klondike gold rush of 1897. This narrow-guage railroad is part scenic festival and part thrill ride as the track hugs the side of the cliffs on one side and overlooks the plunging slopes below. In essence, the track climbs the sides of one of the deepest fiords in the world.

As the train climbed, we heard commentary about the history of the gold rush, as well as stories from Skagway’s storied past and information about the surrounding countryside. All along the way, waterfalls rush down the mountainsides into the gorge of the river. Some of them come from glaciers out of sight in the peaks above. This morning was foggy with the clouds sometimes hanging around the snow-covered peaks above us, sometimes lowering into our path.

We passed through tunnels, up through Dead Horse gorge where would-be miners once lost thousands of horses attempting to pack supplies over White Pass toward the Klondike. The effort to reach the gold was a frenzied one in which miners were required by Canadian Mounties to bring a ton of supplies with them, first up the mountains and over White Pass then another 500 miles or so down the Yukon River to the site of the gold find. In the two years of the rush, thousands tried, but only about 400 struck it rich before the bonanza played itself out.

All along the track, wildflowers abound at ground level and evergreens reach up from the slopes. Caribou moss is scattered along the slopes, its whitish color visible among the dark trees, looking like scattered sawdust at a distance. Thanks to a booklet available on the train, we were able to identify the purple flowers known as fireweed, beautiful deep blue of the Notka lupine and the feathery white Goatsbeard. With the speed of the train, we weren’t sure whether the yellow flowers were Alpine arnica or Shrubby cinquefoil, but we enjoyed the range of color, whatever their names.

The fir trees were full of cones of various shapes and sizes. The mountain ash trees were full of orange berries. Everywhere here there’s eye candy of one sort or another.

At the top of the pass, we left Alaska and entered British Columbia, so we were required to bring our passports and go through Canadian customs. In our case, a very polite and humorous Canadian customs officer came through the train checking our passports at the tiny settlement of Frasier. We were given the option to stamp our own passports at a little building housing restrooms. The stamp is chained to the wall on the porch and shows a graphic of climbers with packs going up a steep slope.

All through this high area are small lakes in different beautiful colors as influenced by the glacial rock flours. One lake, bisected by a sandbar, actually is two different colors in one spot, fed by two different glaciers.

We went by bus from Frasier to the Yukon Suspension Bridge which isn’t in the Yukon at all. A clever entrepreneur has created a tourist stop with the bridge, a gift shop and concession area, as well as several displays where photos can be made with pictures of Mounties or a statue of a brown bear as it appears to emerge from the woods in a mural behind. It is, however a place to take glorious pictures of a river tumbling through the gorge below and vistas of snow-topped mountains all around.

Our trip down the Al-Can highway by bus allowed more photos, this time captured at a few stops, including one at the “Welcome to Alaska” sign, a favorite for tourists. Every turn has its breathtaking views in these high mountain valleys, some carved by glaciers, some by rivers.

Wearied by our short night’s sleep and early waking, we were lulled to sleep on our return to the ship by yet another bountiful lunch (shocking, ey?). So, rather than explore little Skagway’s stores and celebration of Independence Day, we decided a nap was in order.

When we woke just at 5:00PM, the ship was preparing for departure and the captain suggested that we stay indoors, enjoying the view from the windows until we came out of the Taiya Inlet. The wind, he warned, would be fierce. In fact, as we cruised down the inlet, marveling at a number of spectacular waterfalls, whitecaps were visible along our path and after a few steps onto our balcony, we were “blown” back into the stateroom.
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]

Tracy Arm and Juneau: Icebergs, the Fiord, Glaciers and a Whale

(July 3) – We woke early again this morning and went up to the walking track to find ourselves surrounded by fog and occasional mist. As we walked, the Navigator moved through the water and a couple of folks spotted and photographed humpback whales. We weren’t carrying either cameras or binoculars, but needed neither to see a spectacular glacier appearing to tumble down a mountainside. Its beautiful aquamarine ice shone in the morning light with its own glow, no sunshine needed to capture its light.

When we finished our walk, Mike went down to get camera and binoculars so that we could see what appeared to be icebergs ahead of us. They were, indeed, smallish bergs, some just white ice and others filled with the blaze of blue that glacier water reflects because of the ground rock flours within.

As we continued into a beautiful fiord, called Tracy Arm, more bergs floated around us. High rock faces rose all around and waterfalls tumbled down, some racing as thin ribbon-like streams, other bursting from the bottoms of the slopes in a froth. We ate breakfast when the dining room opened, keeping binoculars on the table for quick looks at the glorious sights we were passing.

After breakfast, we found ourselves dashing about the boat and in and out of our cabin to the balcony, grabbing our cameras or the binoculars to savor and maybe capture the magic of this experience. It seemed that each minute there was some new sight, something we wanted to see or photograph.  The water in Tracy Arm is a beautiful mossy green color, its hue again influenced by the glacial runoff. Everything we were seeing merited the word “spectacular” and our “ohs” and “wows” were continuous.

On many of the rocky faces, no matter how sheerly vertical the slope, fir trees grow, coming up out of the rock without any apparent soil in which they might root. In some places, the shrubs clinging to the rock faces have clusters of yellow flowers.

Our anthropologist tells us that we’re unlikely to see the humpback whales up in the fiord because they are baleens, gulping up 500 gallons of water and filtering it to capture the small fish and phyloplankton. They don’t like the glacial silt, so this is not good hunting ground for them.

She did suggest that we might see a fin whale or, in areas where there are small icebergs, called growlers, that are like flat rafts, seals with pups are sometimes seen. The seals keep their pups on these rafts for a few months until they are weaned. These seal “nurseries” draw orcas, the toothed killer whales, who feed on the seals if they can get to them.

At one point as I was working on the blog, the ship began to tilt rather dramatically back and forth. It was enough of a shift that outside our cabin I could hear things falling and clanking and I had to brace myself to stay steady. The captain came on the in-house TV to apologize for the “little lean.” He said that he had to take evasive action to avoid an iceberg. I approve--better to lean than damage the ship. I wouldn’t want to go into this cold water!  We learned later that dishes had been broken all over the ship, sliding off surfaces when the ship tilted without warning.  Fortunately, no one was hurt.

After an exciting morning we expected an equally exciting afternoon, but were disappointed that the rainy weather kept us from going on the “flightseeing” helicopter to the Mendenhall Glacier as we had planned. Instead we walked into Juneau from the pier and went to the Red Dog Saloon to celebrate our friend Judy Spell’s birthday. We were there for an hour or so, then back to the ship to relax before our next excursion in late afternoon.

The “Capture Juneau” excursion was billed as a photo tour to include a whale watching expedition. It was everything promised and more. Our guide, Stacy, was really knowledgeable and personable, gave us great photography tips and even spent some time with each of us with our own cameras, teaching us how to get better results. It was very helpful.

We went out to the Mendenhall Glacier, took about a two-mile walk through the rainforest (in the rain, appropriately) and learned a lot about glaciers, rainforest flora and fauna, as well as how salmon impact the ecosystems here. It was a great experience, despite the rain. Since ponchos were provided, we really didn’t even get that wet.

We then took a bus to get on a boat for our whale-watching tour. We saw some stellar sea lions first, lying in a heap on a rocky shore. Stacy, not just a skilled photographer, but also a naturalist, referred to their behavior as a “haul out.” That pile of pinkish blubbery creatures looked more like a “fall out.”

Then we began our search for whales. It took quite a while, but finally a nearby boat radioed the position of one they had spotted and we raced over to see it. The humpback we saw and photographed was “lunge feeding,” diving fairly shallowly in an area that must have been full of fish. The whale put on quite a show for us for about half an hour and we got lots of photos, some of which were pretty impressive views of its flukes waving high out of the water as it dove. It was really a thrill.

We returned late this evening, tired and soggy, but happy. The ship’s crew had held open the dining room because so many of us were returning late, so we had a nice supper before bed. I’m about to turn in because we arrive in Skagway at 7 tomorrow morning and our tour there begins at 7:50AM. We’re keeping busy, to say the least.  Goodnight from our 50th state and, as it is now officially July 4th here, Happy Birthday, America!
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]