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]

An Alaskan Tale of Community

(July 3) – I neglected to include a wonderful story we heard while in Ketchikan yesterday and I want to record it while it’s somewhat fresh in my mind.

As we were going by bus to the lodge down on George Inlet, we passed the Tatsuda IGA market along Highway 7. The bus driver remarked that the Tatsuda family is much loved in Ketchikan.

The family came to Ketchikan in the early years of the 20th century, he said, starting their business from nothing and becoming trusted providers of food and supplies to the townspeople. They extended credit to the hardscrabble folks who needed it to survive in such a remote spot.

Over time the business grew and the Tatsudas were respected contributors to the growth of the community. When World War II came along, the Tatsudas, because of their Japanese heritage, were sent to an internment camp in Utah, as other Japanese-Americans on the West Coast were being removed from their homes and sent to Manzanar and other camps.

When the Tatsudas were removed, the government took over their store. They did not, our driver said, manage it well and were “running it into the ground.” The townspeople decided to take matters into their own hands and took over running the operation. They also took responsibility for the Tatsuda’s home and its upkeep. It was, we were told, a sign of the respect and appreciation others in Ketchikan felt for the family who had always helped them.

When the war ended and the Tatsudas returned, the store was returned to them. In addition, the townspeople gave the family all the profit that had accrued during their absence. The market continued to operate and does so today.

In little Ketchikan, when asked what they do in winter, locals respond that they “drink a lot.” They have lived a rough existence, sometimes merely subsisting in an isolated and occasionally hostile environment. Through it all, they have retained their independent spirits, but have also learned the importance of friendship. They know the value of community.

Ketchikan—Eagles in Flight, Crabs for Lunch and the Bridge to Nowhere

(July 2) – Mike and I were walking very early this morning when our ship came up the Tongass Narrows to approach and dock at Ketchikan. The name of the town came from the Tlingit for “thundering wings of an eagle” and it’s a perfect name. As soon as we came back from breakfast after our walk, I spotted a huge eagle’s nest in a tree on Pinnock Island directly across the water from our balcony. One and then another bald eagle flew onto the nest as I watched.

The nest is in tall fir trees just behind a house on the shore. In front of the house is a float plane resting on a rocky beach above a dock. What a picture of life in Alaska. We learned later that the islands across the water from Revilla Island on which Ketchikan was built have no bridges or roads across to the town, so folks over there get here by boat or not at all.

The town itself, once the Cape Fox community, is picturesque with its buildings painted many different colors and its sign proclaiming Ketchikan the “Salmon Capital of America.” The streets are lined with shops selling a range of goods from trinkets to high-priced native art, including some amazing sculptures made from whale vertebrae and ivory. There are totem poles here and there and garden spots galore against a backdrop of snow-topped mountains. The highest, Deer Mountain, is about 3000 feet and is what locals use to forecast the weather. If you can see the mountain, rain will come soon. If you can’t see it, it’s already raining.

We had about a half-hour in town before leaving for today’s excursion, so Mike and I wandered in and out of a few shops on our way to Creek Street, site of the town’s red light district until the 1950’s. It has been turned into shops where tourists can find their souvenirs of Alaska. The creek for which it was named tumbles through a gully next to the boardwalk, providing a great spot for pictures.

A bus took us a few miles away to George Inlet for a boat ride and crab feast. Along the way we saw more eagles, this pair sitting on a mud flat along a river, waiting, our driver said, for fish to come upstream. We saw other eagles sitting in the trees along the highway which was paved part of the way and graveled the rest.

When we arrived at the lodge, we took 79 steps down to their dock, then down a steep ramp to a floating dock where the enclosed pontoon awaited. A driver and tour guide took our boat down the inlet for a few miles to a cove where we pulled up crab pots and learned about Dungeness crabs. Females are illegal to harvest, so must be returned to the water and the males taken must be at least 6 ½ inches in breadth.

Along the way we passed the cannery where Libby, McNeil and Libby once canned salmon. (Remember the commercial—“If it’s Libby, Libby, Libby on the label, label, label…”?) The cannery was sold by Libby in 1978, the year before Alaska became a state. Apparently Libby knew that the state legislature would severely limit salmon fishing and even ban the sort of trap fishing that Libby had used, so they got out of that business. Now the old cannery is a museum.

On the way back from the crab pots, we saw killer whales, or at least their tall dorsal fins. They are beautiful creatures and we, of course, hope to see more of them during our time here.

The crab feast was both messy and delicious, served up by a cadre of young, enthusiastic women in bright yellow outfits that looked like fishing waders. They kept us entertained while plying us with yummy crab. Once again, we heard a favorite Alaskan comment about the ratio of men to women here. They say frequently that “the odds are good, but the goods are odd.” These women, claiming to have caught and cooked the crabs themselves, said that “Alaska is where the men are men and the women are men, too.”

Coming back on the bus our driver pointed out eagles in trees all along the way, commenting that “around here they are like pigeons.” I suppose that is the way locals see them, but for us each sighting of these magnificent creatures is a thrill.

We also saw salmon jumping in a small bay near the highway. All along the highway wild flowers bloom in yellows, purples and whites. This is beautiful country, much of it in the Tongass National Forest, the country’s largest. Because of Ketchikan’s rainfall average of 162 inches a year, the landscape is lush. The forest when logged by the native people regenerates itself quickly.

As I write this part of today’s chronicle, we are leaving the dock and moving northward toward tomorrow’s port of Juneau. Bald eagles are soaring over the ship as we leave and our anthropologist says there are more to be seen as up ahead.

As we pass Gravina Island, we’re hearing about Ketchikan’s international airport there. There is, as I mentioned above, no bridge. Access to the small airport is by car ferry. This is the island to which the infamous “Bridge to Nowhere” was proposed. While there is little population there now, it is the place for the town’s future growth, if there is to be any. Thus, the “nowhere” we heard so much about becomes visible to us and the story we’re hearing makes more sense than it has done before. What was always hard to swallow about this bridge and remains a choker was the price--$230 million! The bridge would have to be quite high to allow passage underneath by the cruise ships that come this way and provide income for the town. The airport, by the way, is in the Guinness Book of Records. That’s because it’s the only airport in the world where the control tower is lower than the runway.

Another story about the airport is about how a black bear cub closed the airport for a time. The cub wandered into the terminal and was riding the luggage carousel. When someone tried to scare it off, it screamed, drawing its mother. As the story is told, she did $5000 damage to the terminal in her zeal to rescue her baby.

Every place has its stories to tell. In Alaska the stories reflect its relative isolation, the wildness of the landscape and the individuality of its people. There are people here who live 200 miles from the nearest neighbor and get visits from bush pilots only once a year to deliver supplies. One of our guides told us of friends who live at the end of George Inlet and travel by boat several miles to get to where their truck is parked so that they can drive even further to town for needed goods.

The beauty of this place is truly captivating. I find myself falling more in love with Alaska each hour we’re here. This southeast part of the state is in a temperate rainforest climate where the average temperature in winter is 33 degrees, not as cold as one might expect. There is, however, snow still on the mountains, so there’s no question that winter brings enough cold for snow in this wet, maritime climate.  Now, though, we've had a beautiful, dry day to enjoy the majesty of the setting.

In the early evening, the ship hosted "block parties" on each hallway, providing us with wine and snacks, of course.  Ending the day with a beautiful dinner, we enjoyed sharing tales and laughter with our friends.  The movement of the ship will once again lull us to sleep and we look forward to Juneau tomorrow.
[Photos by Mike Lumpkin]

A Day at Sea--The Moveable Feast

(July1) – After this morning’s early walk in the mist, we cleaned up and dressed for breakfast. There’s something truly intriguing about the design of cruise ships. As we’ve traveled over the years, always on the smaller ships, we’ve seen their accommodations updated and refined to provide maximum comfort in remarkably small spaces.

With the exception of minimal water pressure in the shower, the space and functionality of our cabin on this ship is exceptionally luxurious. There’s even an Ipod in our room to provide music. The TV, while not providing much local programming while we are out of port, allows access to a large library of movies and even a constant view from the captain’s bridge at the bow of the boat so we can see where we’re headed.

The challenge of this wonderful experience onboard is not to eat ourselves into a stupor. Food is everywhere all the time. Breakfast fare was available in multiple locations and we managed to eat well without going crazy. Then we attended a presentation this morning about Alaska which was very well done by a cultural anthropologist. There were, of course, drinks and pastries available there. She even joked that the humpback whales that come to Alaska come here from their winter habitat near Hawaii for only one reason—to eat, much like the folks on cruises. The whales apparently consume about 1400 pounds of krill and phyloplankton a day. We will attempt to keep our intake somewhere below that amount, despite the efforts of the cooks and wait people to feed us at every juncture.

Our speaker shared some of Alaska’s history with us and also told us about some of the country and wildlife we might see in the days ahead. With the help of pictures and maps displayed on a huge screen in the theater, she made the geography clearer and also helped us understand better how to identify the wildlife we might see along the way. Obviously, most people who come here are anxious to see bears, whales and eagles. Her descriptions were really helpful in orienting us to both sight and name creatures.

She also told us what not to expect, such as a sighting of the Aurora Borealis. While the “Northern Lights” are a year-round phenomenon, there is too much daylight at this time of the year to see them from this far south of the Arctic Circle. Toward autumn, when the days are shorter and nights actually get dark, those lights are visible from the ships. We’ll have to add that to our reasons for another trip to Alaska in years to come.

Then, of course, there was lunch. Mike was keen on the fresh seafood to be served on the pool deck until we got out there and he realized that the food would be cold before he could get it to the table. Between the temperature and the breeze created as we’re motoring along, it’s been quite cold outside today, truly deliciously cold and we love it, just maybe not to sit and lunch.

So, darn it, we had to go inside to the buffet with its roast lamb and fish dishes and extensive salad bar and dessert section. We suffered through that and even nibbled a bite or two of some sugar-free cheesecake for dessert.

Back in our cabin, I reviewed our shore excursions and discovered a mix-up for the two excursions we had booked for Skagway. Somehow they had been overlapped instead of kept separate, making it impossible for us to do one or the other. Since our friends were doing something altogether different, we decided to change to what they are doing. So we’ll take a train ride over mountains to the Yukon (back to Canada and we’ll have to carry our passports). It promises to be both a scenic ride and another great destination.

Then it was time for the wine tasting. The sommelier was overwhelmed by the number of people who showed up for that. Clearly our ship has an abundance of winos this trip. We tasted four California wines that were pretty good and enjoyed meeting people from Australia in the process. It was fun to share our experiences in Australia and New Zealand and to hear about their travel. Living down under, they think nothing of flights that are 12 or 14 hours; they always have a long way to go to get most places.

The afternoon was sunny, if cold. We were out of sight of land most of the early hours after lunch, but have come back to the Inside Passage again. The forested shoreline is dramatically beautiful with the deep green of hemlocks and other firs, including the state tree, the Sitka spruce. I had the binoculars out hoping to see a bear along the shore, but didn’t have any luck. Maybe part of the problem is simply using binoculars while we’re moving at a clip—it’s a bit disorienting.

The captain’s welcome reception was held in the theatre, complete with champagne or other drinks of choice. The captain wore his clan tartan kilt and introduced the other officers. The obvious jokes were made about what he wears under the kilt, if anything. He claims to have the family kilt made in three weights, one of which is heavy enough to remain at knee level even in the wind on the pool deck. We did not, however, see him outside in the kilt.

Dinner was once again both tasty and bounteous. Local salmon is offered every night with a fairly wide range of other fish and meats. Portions are generous, but not beyond a normal appetite. The menu always includes dishes for vegetarians, those leaving sugar out of their diets, etc, as well as something children will like. While there is a relatively small percentage of children on board, kids’ needs factored into each day’s plan and activities are planned especially for them.

We are sailing into the sunset just before 10PM this evening. Although the sun does set each day here and we haven’t been awake in the middle of the night to check, we’re told some light remains and there are few dark hours, if any.

Tomorrow we’ll dock in Ketchikan at 7AM with a couple of hours there before our excursion. Today’s weather cleared and allowed beautiful views as we cruised. Ketchikan is touted as one of Alaska’s wettest cities, so we could have a rainy day. Whatever the weather, the setting is so gorgeous that we’ll manage. As one of the officers who is from Germany said this evening: “There is no bad weather, just bad clothes.” We’ll enjoy it, whatever comes.
[Photo by Mike Lumpkin]

Getting to the Inside Passage and our Alaska Adventure

(July 1) – It’s Canada Day and we’re cruising the Inside Passage between Canada and Alaska. We’re not sure at this point which country we are in, probably still British Columbia, but we’re sure we wouldn’t want to be anywhere else this glorious morning.

As I write, I’m looking out our balcony door to see the water with logs occasionally floating by and the islands beyond, dotted with clouds like cotton balls scattered across the dark green of the fir trees. In the distance on both sides of the ship we’ve seen snow-covered peaks. Too tired to chronicle yesterday’s travel last night, I’m catching up this morning.

After our long day getting here, Mike and I collapsed after dinner and slept soundly. We woke early and went up to the walking track and enjoyed the glory of walking in the cool mists amidst the fabulous North Country scenery all around us. Birds were skimming across the water, occasional small boats were moored along either side of the passage and we saw a rare home or lodge along the shoreline.

Getting here was as painless as one can hope in these days of air travel fraught with obstacles. Our pickup at home was scheduled for 4:30AM and we hit the front sidewalk just in time to be sprayed by the sprinkler system that kicked on for our departure. Fortunately, I was only wet on one side and not so wet that I needed to change clothes.

Despite the early hour, there were lots of folks at Charlotte-Douglas Airport, all trying to go different places at the same time. With an inefficiency that’s always frustrating, not all of the security gates were staffed, so there were long lines. We got through in time for our flight and made it to O’Hare in Chicago ahead of time.

O’Hare seemed to be humming, but not overcrowded and our layover was just long enough to stretch our legs and get the breakfast we were hungry to find. The flight to Vancouver was uneventful. We were not sleeping soundly much, but dozed between attempts to read or do crosswords.

Vancouver’s airport is big and beautifully designed, perhaps redone for the recent Winter Olympics visitors. The immigration and customs process was handled well and before we knew it, we were greeted by the Regent Seven Seas reps and whisked aboard a bus for the 40-minute drive through Vancouver to the Canada Center where cruise ships depart.

Vancouver is an interesting city. We were here about 15 years ago and enjoyed its combination of natural beauty and cultural diversity. Our coach ride took us through the city, reminding us of Auckland with its neighborhoods dressed in well-kept houses surrounded by flowering gardens and hedges, very English in feel.

There are great old buildings in Vancouver, harking back through its history—the Canadian Pacific Railway building and others, many now repurposed, but still standing proudly. They are part of the panoply of skyscrapers that house Vancouver’s business center and city dwellers, as well as the Olympic venues. The stadium where opening and closing ceremonies were held is a construction site again as workers install a retractable roof. Professional sports teams will use the facility going forward.

We were greeted with champagne as we checked in onboard our ship, the Navigator. We had lunch on the pool deck and were happy to see our friends, the Spells and Bramsons arrive a little while later. They had come in earlier for a couple of days in Vancouver.

Our rooms were ready earlier than promised and we’re really pleased with the accommodations. We share a butler, decked out in tails, and a housekeeper with 11 other cabins. They and others in the crew are both helpful and efficient, all friendly and well-trained. We have plenty of room in a shipboard space designed to get the most out of limited space. Our balcony is small, but big enough for a small table and two chairs. More than anything, it allows us a big view of the beauty to be seen as we cruise.

We participated in the obligatory lifeboat drill yesterday before sailing. It’s always good to know what to do, just in case an emergency arises. It also allowed us to begin to meet other passengers with whom we’ll share the week. We had already met some in Chicago who are part of a three-generation family enjoying something of a reunion on this journey. Our favorite part of the drill was the captain’s commentary which included the instruction: “if someone falls overboard and it’s someone you want to save,” report it to the crew immediately. A droll fellow, this captain is.

As we sat in the harbor before departure, we were fascinated to see float planes taking off and landing in the water nearby. There’s something very different about the idea of taking off from water and landing there again.

The ship makes a celebration of sorts out of leaving the harbor. It is thrilling to feel the engines starting up far below our level, then to feel the movement. The harbor is spectacular with a beautiful blufftop park and a coastline pathway that is used by walkers, runners, bikers and inline skaters. The pathway hugs the shore, curving in and out, separated from the water by only a low stone wall.

Leaving the harbor, we passed under the Lion’s Gate Bridge. As we left, another cruise ship, somewhat larger than ours, followed us out. All through the harbor, we saw sailboats, motorboats, every manner of watercraft venturing about. Along the shore we continued to see houses, even a picturesque lighthouse. And the backdrop for it all is the glorious mountains.

I took a mini-nap on the little sofa/cushioned bench in our cabin while Mike went above to take pictures. Then we dressed for a little get-together in the Spell’s cabin. To complement the complimentary wine and champagne provided by the ship, they had resourcefully brought peanut butter and “Easy Cheese” and Ritz crackers from home for our “hors d’oeuvres” and we enjoyed the time to talk about what everyone is doing in retirement and ooh and aah over the passing scenery. Then off to dinner where we had wonderful food and chatted and laughed before Mike and I headed for bed to catch up on some sleep. We had no trouble falling asleep to the sound of the ship passing through the water.
[No photos today--the ship is moving and apparently that prevents photo uploads]
[Photo added later, taken by Mike Lumpkin]

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Peter, Paul and Mary (alternating with John Denver) are singing in my head as we pack for our two weeks in Alaska. We are almost as excited about being in cooler temperatures as we are about the wonderful scenery and wildlife we anticipate seeing.

I’ve been following some of the Alaska news sites in preparation for the trip. It seems like there’s a lot of Palin coverage of all sorts. She’s clearly the focus of their celebrity news. Much like a family, Alaskans seem comfortable criticizing her themselves, but don’t much appreciate outsiders’ opinions of their gal from Wasilla.

What’s truly interesting to me, though, is the flavor of their news. If all politics is local, as Tip O’Neill famously said, then I’d have to say at least most news is local. It’s what affects people’s daily lives, what touches their pocketbooks and speaks to their hopes and their fears. Thus, the stories in Alaska may involve polar bears or whales or other wildlife that we don’t see in the Lower 48, but most of them reflect the same cares and concerns that the rest of us have. Jobs. Homelessness. Jobs. Addiction.  Jobs. Abuse. Jobs. The echo resounds everywhere these days.

In Alaska, the story that leads a news bulletin may very well have to do with whether the salmon are abundant in the Kenai River. That’s important to folks there on many levels. They count on fishing to sustain their lives; the salmon are business (jobs). They count on being able to ship salmon elsewhere (jobs) and on attracting fisherman to their waters as sportsmen and tourists (jobs). The Kenai River has been closed to king salmon fishing because state biologists are concerned with how few salmon they are seeing in the water.

We’re going to Homer after we depart the cruise in Seward. In Homer, the news is that they have a new ferry and they’re pretty excited about it. Homer is a town that relies to some extent on tourism (jobs) and the ferry is a big part of that.

In Sitka, folks are hoping that the clear water in their Blue Lake might be a business (jobs) opportunity. There’s an entrepreneur, according to National Geographic, who thinks he might be able to export that water in bulk to the Middle East. There are folks in Sitka that like the idea for the benefit (jobs) it might bring their town.

What I’m loving about Alaska already is the sense you get from learning about the people there that, while they’re like the rest of us in many ways, they are there because they’re different, too. If their families have been there for generations, their culture has unique elements. They may be Native People or have Russians in their DNA.

If they’re relative newcomers to the state, they came and stayed because there’s more wild there to enjoy—open spaces, fewer people, room to roam where you might see more bears than people. There’s some of that quirky independent spirit that permeated the TV show, Northern Exposure. I just today read a story about a woman from Anaktuvuk Pass who married her sweetheart so hadn’t been posting much in her blog called “Stop and Smell the Lichen.” The groom posted photos of the wedding on his blog, called “Wasilla by 300.” It looks like they were married in a sort of gym, surrounded by family and friends. The photos and story are really beautiful and sweet. And, apparently the ceremony and reception were followed by an “alcohol-free tundra party.” That’s not how wedding stories end in North Carolina, our being short on tundra and longer on alcohol, perhaps.

Anyway, we’re looking forward to the people and places we’ll find in Alaska. We’re excited about wearing warm clothes on cool days, having many more hours of daylight than we’ve ever known and taking lots of pictures.

Among the Tlingit (pronounced clink-it) people of Alaska, there aren’t expressions for hello and goodbye, apparently. There is an expression used often there that I think works well for us. It’s Haa kaa gaa kuwatee translating to It's good weather for us. Whatever weather we find, we think the adventure will be one we’ll remember forever.