Exciting and New

The first thing I do every morning on this cruise is step out onto the balcony to see what amazement lies beyond the railing. We made port in Skagway before I woke up today, so this morning I was greeted by the green waters of Taiya Inlet surrounded by incredible mountains. 

A seal poked its head up across the way, where another cruise ship was docked. The deep water port of Skagway makes it a popular stop on the Alaskan cruise circuit, and this restored gold stampede town of 750 was about to expand by a factor of 10 as the tourist stampede in the form of four ocean liners arrived for the day. 

Truth be told, we've seen quite a few other cruisers on this trip, but I did a double take when I saw the name of the ship off my deck this morning. Pacific Princess... Why wasn't that? Surely it couldn't be? The Love Boat! It didn't look quite as I remembered it, but it's been 20 years or more since I saw an episode. 

Luckily, there was good phone service there in Skagway, so a quick internet search turned up the sad fact that the original Pacific Princess had gone to a scrap yard in Turkey last year. This imposter was nothing more than her replacement. I sighed in disappointment. 

Fortunately, there was still Skagway and a trip up to the Yukon on the White Pass Railway to look forward to.

Come aboard, we're expecting you!

So Lucky

This is one of the rainiest places on earth, but we have sailed under blue skies and puffy white clouds today, warm sun on our faces and cool breezes on our backs. After a whirlwind visit to Juneau this morning, they had a barbecue on the the outdoor deck for lunch, and so as the crew prepared the ship for departure we found ourselves lounging poolside, looking for bald eagles on Mt. Rogers, and watching the sea planes swoop over us to land on the Gastineau Channel.

A little while later, we spent over an hour hanging out on our balcony watching whales spout off in the distance and catching our breath at the dramatic glacier-carved scenery as we cruised the Tracey Arm on our way to view the Sawyer Glacier. Exquisite aquamarine ice bergs floated beneath 7,000 foot mountains laced with narrow waterfalls that plunged steeply into the narrow fjord on either side of us. Surrounded by wilderness as far as we could see, it was impossibly beautiful-- one of those rare moments in life when there's no doubt just how lucky you are. 

Don't Call Me Ishmael

Curious how some of the most terrible dangers of the sea from past centuries have become today's tourist attractions. Yesterday we sailed through scores of ice bergs (small ones to be sure, but genuine ice bergs never the less) to reach a glacier, and this afternoon our cruise director (not Julie, but Richard) gleefully announced that we would soon enter "whale water." 

Awesome!

Cruisin'

"A cruise?" many people remarked quizzically when I told them about my vacation plans. "That doesn't seem like you." I often nodded in agreement as they usually continued, "But Alaska? I'm sure that's different."

Is it? I wouldn't know, but I will say this about cruising so far. I have never been around another group of people so dedicated to me having a good time as the crew of this ship. This afternoon when we made our stop near Hubbard Glacier in a steady drizzle, we pulled on foul weather gear and headed to the upper decks for a panoramic view of the 350 foot blue ice cliffs. When we were cold and wet enough, we decided to go a few decks lower where it was covered to continue watching the massive ice chunks calving from the glacier iand thundering into Disenchantment Bay. The shortest route took us through one of the fine dining restaurants. In we banged with the icy wind and dripped our way across the bar to the exit where a waiter met us. "I hope it wasn't too cold out there," he said as he held the door for us.

This

So I'm relaxing with my feet up on the private deck off our aft cabin surrounded by mountains and setting sail for the Hubbard Glacier. Our day started 450 miles north of here in Denali. It was pouring rain when we got up at 5:30 this morning to finish packing and get on our bus by 7. "It's snowing in the park," the guy at the general store told us as we paid for our coffee. His words reminded me that the day before on our tour of the park our naturalist guide had told us that fall begins next week in this part of Alaska. We had laughed, but he wasn't joking. In two weeks, all the leaves in the area will have changed. I looked out the bus window as we rolled south through the rain. Sure enough, the tops of the mountains were dusted with new snow and there was a little more gold in the green on the side of the road. Fortunately the weather cleared as we neared Anchorage and it stayed fair on our trip down the Seward Highway so that our view of green velvet mountains studded with hanging glaciers, icy blueTurnagain Arm, and the boreal rainforest of the Kenai peninsula was unobstructed.

And now this.

Wow.

Alaskana

1. It's a fun state because it seems to be run entirely by people 18-27. They lend a laid back, anything goes, anything is possible vibe to everything.

2. There are a few older folks, but they are mostly docents and bus drivers. I think the young people encourage them to take those jobs because then those older people get most of their talking out on tourists. Don't get me wrong-- the guides I've met really know their material; it's just that they have a lot to say and they also do quite a bit of editorializing. I guess Alaska is such a big state that it just fosters expansiveness.

3. They run the tourist season here like a bit of a libertarian nanny state. We've been constantly reminded of our personal accountability where ever we go, but it's pretty clear they don't trust us. For example, our bus driver on the park tour today threatened to leave us at every rest stop if we were late getting back, but he stopped the bus in the wilderness to explain in great detail how we had to dispose of our trash and recycling. I suppose a guided tour is antithesis to a culture so ingrained with self-sufficiency.

4. The people who live here will tell you their Alaska origin story without being asked. Basically, they came and they knew they had to stay. They are also pretty proud of their pioneering spirit, and why not? It really does get down to 40 below, and there are a lot of long, dark days in the winter. I hear the Northern Lights make up for it, though, as does the cleanest air on the planet and the last of the true American wilderness.

Fearless Leader

Our tour guide for the ground portion of this trip is Erin, and she is young, energetic, and very ernest. "I have never loved anything so passionately as I love Alaska," she told us this morning as our motor coach rolled north from Anchorage, and it was clear she meant it. She reminds me of former students, all grown up and going for it, and I like her for that.

In fact, being around Erin makes me see the sixth grader in many of my fellow passengers. Here we are, on a big field trip riding our bus to an exciting place. Some people want to be first; others want most of Erin's attention, still others call out funny comments when she speaks to us on the microphone. "Did anyone call seatsies?" someone actually said as we waited in line to reboard after a stop. 

Erin mentioned she's an introvert, and I believe it. Her interactions with us are friendly, but there is just a faint awkwardness underneath that I recognize all too well. She wouldn't be making conversation if it wasn't her job. She's pretty good at it, though. She listens, makes connections, and shares personal information. 

On the train to Denali, she was talking to a couple behind us, answering their question as to how she came to be an Alaskan tour guide. It was a round-about route, starting in college in North Carolina, featuring a couple of summers as a deck hand on a halibut fishing boat, and then on to six months of solo backpacking through south Asia, including Indonesia and Vietnam.

"I spent a year backpacking through Vietnam," the guy laughed. He was a big guy with white hair, probably in his early 60s.

"Really?" Erin seemed impressed.

"Yeah, but he didn't do it voluntarily," his wife added.

"Ooooooh," Erin nodded. "Well, I did like South Vietnam a lot better."