A vacation in three parts: Part 2, Section D

Our last stop in Alaska was Ketchikan. We only had a few hours in port, which wasn’t nearly enough. I saw just a tiny bit of the very cute town, looking for postcards and stamps and a way to get them home. The post office in the tourist-oriented port area was no longer open.

While meandering, I could hear the roar of the crowd from the nearby lumberjack show. We skipped activities in and near the tourist center, instead taking another float tour. We loved this one. The small boat, room for 12 tourists plus the two-person crew, met us right at the dock. It was tied up steps from our ship. We walked down the gangway and after waiting for a few stragglers, were off.

We immediately saw an eagle in a tree. The captain killed the motor and we floated near.

And that was the way the trip went. We were on the water, instead of a river just an offshoot of the fjord system that wound through the Tongass National Forest. It was damp, not surprising because the it’s a rain forest. And it was cold. Brr.

Our guide was a college kid, who studied nursing in her real life and talked to tourists all summer. She and the captain were terrific as spotting wildlife. We saw loons, bears, deer, many eagles and seals with their pups.

The rocky edges of the bay were beautiful. It was peaceful. We didn’t see another boat during the 90-minute tour. Probably the coolest thing we saw were the bright starfish of Alaska.

This striated shore, with reflection, caught my eye

Alaskan starfish. Who knew?

This our last piece of Alaska. The week flew by, and it wasn’t nearly enough. We headed out of the bay soon, toward Canada and Seattle. We loved Alaska and have hopes of returning for another trip, much farther north.

 

A vacation in three parts: Part 2, Section C

The next leg of our journey north, took us into Glacier Bay. That destination was the prime reason we took this particular trip on this particular ship.

We sailed into the mouth of the bay around 4 a.m. The sun was already up. It was advertised as a place to see whales, and though I toyed with the idea of getting up to see it, I slept and made my way onto deck around 9 that morning. We were due to reach the end of the bay between 10 and 11.

So I dressed in all my layers and went as high as I could go on the ship. It was spectacular.

This was one of the first pictures I took. It was cloudy and cold, a steady wind blowing as we traversed the bay.  But there was mountain after mountain, some rocky, some covered in snow and ice. 

We cruised past this glacier that spilled into the bay. The dark ice is where the movement of the glacier rubs the rocks off the mountains. It is still cloudy and cold.

By the time we reached our destination, the end of the bay, the clouds cleared and the sun popped out to light the Margerie Glacier in all its magnificence. I can’t say much more about what this looked like. I’ll let the pictures talk. I will say that as we cruised in, and then out, we saw wild sheep on the mountains and coastal brown bears by the water (with binoculars) and a multitude of Stellar sea lions, seals and otters cruising the cold, turquoise water. But this day was all about the ice. These are all shots of the Margerie Glacier. Everything was bigger, prettier and more colorful than these pictures show.

 

 

 

 

 

The school in my backyard

They are tearing down the school next door to my childhood home.

That is a loaded sentence which only begins to define the magic I found growing up next to Favorite Hill Elementary School. We lived in a big, old house that had its own ghost and almost three acres of wild, overgrown yard in which to fuel the imagination. A six-foot fence was the sim divider between that yard and the school.

When I was four, maybe five, I would shinny up a tree next to the chain-link fence — the prickly top of the fence was bent down there because we used that tree to climb over the fence — and just sit there, watching the kids at recess. I wanted to go so much.

I did, eventually, for five years before being bused across school to finish elementary school. I remember the name of every teacher I had from kindergarten — we only went half-days and I was a champion sleeper so went in the afternoons — through fourth grade. OK, I forget the music teacher’s name. And the art one. But we only had one teacher each year and they were Mrs. Overholser, Mrs. Buecker, Mrs. Cain, Mrs. Sweigart and Mrs. Wilcox. I did have reading with Mrs. Palsgrove in fourth grade.

My mom was on the PTA, president for a chunk of the time I was there, and there were school fairs and plays and spelling bees. I remember having some kind of drill in second grade and having to be outside for a while. I saw my mom at the fence, which was technically farther from the school where the lower grades could play — big kids only! — but I ran out there only to find she was talking to my teacher. “Here she comes,” my mom told me she said to the teacher. It was far for short legs, but just a run home for me.

But most of the magic happened when classes were out. We used that yard like it was our own, back in the day before schools were fenced in and off-limits. We played baseball and home run derby and football on the big field, which ran 80 yards from street to the west fence. My grandma donated that field to the school, and for that reason, I grew up on Ford Drive which was named after her.

We hit golf balls and threw frisbees there. Sometimes, we had actual baseball practice with our Midget and Little League teams — mostly my brother practiced and I helped because I was a girl and couldn’t play until I was 11 years old. Because I was denied the game I loved, some of my earliest memories are of being discriminated against just because I was a girl. Once I was allowed to play, I made the All-Star team. Take that, men.

We spent a happy childhood in the dirt and on the playground. I think I was 10 when I ripped my elbow open ‘flying’ on the merry-go-round. Twice.

I know I was 10 when I hit my tennis ball on the roof and the janitor let me climb up and get it. Yes, you read that right. He knew we already climbed on the roof all the time.

I rode skateboards with Greg around the school, and soaped the windows with Diane. I stood at the top of the rickety monkey bars and tried to knock them down. Everyone did. They stood for decades. I jumped off the top of the slide, skinning my knees in the white gravel.

Later, when I went to bigger schools for bigger kids and no longer threw a tennis ball against the red brick walls for hours, I held hands and kissed boys near the schoolyard in my backyard. I zoomed across the field on mopeds, sometimes with boys and sometimes alone. I took my nephew to play in the schoolyard where I grew up.

It has been many years, decades, since I had a schoolyard in my backyard. I still drive past it when I get home, which is not often.

I always smile.

A vacation in three parts: Part 2, Section B

We knew it would be hard to match our Juneau experience as the trip continued. We were right. But there was still plenty to see and do.

The next day we made port in Skagway, a tiny town founded during the gold rush. I’m pretty sure if the cruise industry hadn’t found Alaska, Skagway would be just another western ghost town by now. I was up early and made the short walk into town. Main street is about six blocks long. It was quiet, few people around.

I was able to do some shopping before it got crowded. I found a nice driftwood Christmas tree ornament, crafted by an Alaskan artist in a cool shop that sold artisan goods. The lady who rang me up lived in Charleston, S.C. She was probably in her 60s, and retired. She fell in love with Alaska, so she found a place to live for the summer and was working in the shop for the season. I could do that.

Although we were in port all day, we decided to do just one excursion. We went across the fjord to Haines and then into the back country for a river float in an eagle preserve. The scenery was stunning, but we didn’t see very much wildlife. If we had a do over, we’d skip this trip.

This is one my favorite pictures from the trip. The colors are so lush.

A vacation in three parts: Part 2, Section A

We left the Port of Seattle on a brilliant, sunny afternoon. Mount Rainier dominated the southern horizon, a bold, snowy sentinel that proved a touchstone through much of our vacation. To say we were excited falls short of capturing our emotions. We were going north,  to Alaska. A trip that took about eight months to plan, book and then await was unfolding.

Pulling out of Seattle under the watchful eye of Mount Rainier

Almost 48 hours later, we approached our first stop, Juneau, on a slow float down the narrow fjord that is prevalent on this stretch of coast. Snow and ice capped mountains loomed on both sides. It was sunny and warm, much warmer than Alaska normally gets even for late June. Juneau, the state capitol, spread out before us on either side of the water. With just over 30,000 people, it’s pretty small.

Juneau, Alaska. Downtown, including the state capitol building and governor’s house, is to the right.

Our first adventure in the Last Frontier was a helicopter ride up the Mendenhall Glacier. Once there, we were going to dogsled. As it turned out it, it was the highlight of our two-week long trek west. The helicopter ride was amazing in every way. Less scary than expected, we zoomed up, over a pine-tree clad mountain beside the airport and were quickly over the ice fields that never lose their snowy cover. It was breathtaking. Because I had booked the first trip, we were the first people up the mountain. That gave us a few extra minutes so our pilot veered away from the glacier and took us over another section of the ice field.

The glacier is off to the left, beyond the nearest peak.

The ice field.

The tallest peaks in this area of the ice field. The black bar is a shadow from the helicopter propeller.

We landed to the cacophony of 280 Alaskan huskies. The camp is a training place for dogs that race in the Iditarod. The dogs and about 25 people live on the glacier all summer.  We had a double sled for our family of three. Ted, who is training for the 2016 Iditarod which will be his first, took us on a circuit around the camp, pulled by 10 impressive, friendly, boisterous dogs. Part of our team were dogs that placed sixth in this year’s Iditarod. They were magnificent. After our ride, we met a three-day old pup. It was an amazing experience. I think we’d all do it again, given the chance.

We spent a little time in Juneau, mostly the touristy area around the port, before heading back to the ship. After a short break, we went whale watching. Just being on the water is beautiful. Snowy hills line the shores. Eagles soar with a magnificent elegance. We were lucky to see numerous humpback whales. Two different pods were bubble-net feeding. The captain of our little boat said he only sees bubble-net feeding about 12 times a season, which lasts from May to September. He said he had never see two pods, so relatively close together, doing it at the same time. We had a marine biologist on board as well. They were both excited about our find. At one point the biologist dropped a mike deep into the water. We heard whale song. All I could think of was the line from Star Trek IV, “Captain, there be whales here!” The biologist said a lot of people mention that to him.

What a pod of whales look like after they break the surface during bubble-net feeding. The birds helped us know when the whales would explode out of the water.

Lots of whale tails and whale blow spouts on the water .

The captain of the little boat was so amazed by what we were seeing that we actually arrived back to our ship nearly 30 minutes late — well after the all-aboard signal. Oh well. They couldn’t leave us because we booked through the ship. Lots of people were lining the ship’s deck, watching us stroll aboard.

What a day we had in Juneau.