Heading South

Heading South

September 17-18, 2022

As we head down the Inside Passage, everyone has a mission to spot whales! It’s a perfect day, sunny with no wind. The sea is calm, with no whitecaps which makes it much easier to see the whales. First you see the blow, then with either strong binoculars or a good camera you can see the back, maybe the fluke or even the whole animal if it comes out of the water and breaches. Myrta caught the fluke of a humpback and then a small pod of fin whales as they swam past us.

(Well, i give up. After successfully transferring pictures for two weeks, the whale photos refuse to move from my phone to the iPad.)

The scenery is gorgeous, mountains covered with conifers are on both sides. There’s also a narrow strip of shoreline, mostly rocks and driftwood on both sides. We have a local pilot aboard all the way through the passage.

I know I’ve mentioned it before, but the Open Bridge policy is the best. Myrta and I usually wander down the hallway after lunch to spend some time there. It’s on the seventh deck, with windows all around so a great view. The Captain is about as well as another six to eight young officers watching any number of screens and gauges plus any passengers that have stopped in. There is no big wheel. The man actually steering the boat is back from the windows perched on a stool at a small podium.

Before we get off the boat, I ran around taking pictures of various places on board. The Whiskey Bar, the Scenic Lounge, the Observation/Library/Tea Lounge where Myrta and I would meet mid afternoon to go through pictures we’ve taken as well as try to remember what we did that day. I type, she needlepoints. 

I did remember to take a picture of our suite before we unpacked. 

By the way, the Indian dinner was fabulous. I’m not too sure what I ate, but I’d like to try it again. 

We set the clocks forward to PDT. 

Our last day on board started out with pea soup fog, again, but by midday it had burned off and it was sunny and mild. There was an open house on the helicopter deck so everyone could see the copters as well as the garages where they’re stored and talk to the pilots. 

We’ve pretty much had the whole passage to ourselves but today at lunchtime we passed a tug towing a building, two small fishing boats and a barge of timber. Loads of speculation but we asked the local pilot on the bridge and he said it was a floating fishing lodge. Huh, you might well ask. The lodge is moved around from cove to cove all summer for fishing expeditions. In the fall it is towed up to the Fraser River to over winter. Craziest thing. Who knew?

Some Pacific White-Sided Dolphins chased us for a while in the late afternoon. You’ll have to take my word for it. Every time I tried to take a picture they’d duck under water. 

Last night, last dinner. Luggage out in the hall by 11 tonight, and passengers out of their rooms by 8 am tomorrow. 

A most interesting itinerary on a most interesting boat. 

The Discovery Team

The Captain at farewell 

 

We’re Not In Kennesaw Anymore

We’re Not In Kennesaw Anymore

Wrangell, Alaska

September 16, 2022

Hunting season opened in Alaska yesterday. Today we saw a dead moose! First of the season in Wrangell. It was serendipity for us. We’d been looking at a recreation of a native long house above a marina in Wrangell, when Jim looked across the dock next door and there it was. The hunter was using the boat boom on the dock to move the moose from his boat to the back of his pick up truck. He reckoned it was 400-500 lbs. Not huge by moose standards, but would feed his family over the winter. Everyone I’ve asked up here say moose is delicious. But thy all wrinkle their noses at e mere mention of bear. An acquired taste?

The hunters go out in open boats powered by outboards and land on one of the dozens of islands around here and then hike in to hunt. It is against the law to either shoot from your boat or within 300 feet of a road. In other words, you can’t go out your back door and dispatch the moose that’s been cooling off in the kiddie pool in your back yard all summer.

When we were sailing from Kake last night it was clear. The stars were out, the full moon was rising. Perfect conditions to see the Northern Lights. When I woke up in the middle of the night and went to the balcony door to peek, fog. Nothing but fog. And no lights.

But we did arrive early this morning in Wrangell in the bright sunshine once again. The air is so pure and clear, the sky so blue. 

Myrta went off in a jet boat up the Stikine River into British Columbia. The border is indicated by a line drawn down a mountain. It is the largest protected wilderness in the US and Canada. They saw loads of seals and thousands of migrating Sandhill Cranes heading south for the winter. Spectacular sight. 

Jim and I were supposed to go on a walk through the rain forest but figured we had already walked through enough rain forests along our route so switched to a city tour with local guides. We lucked into a couple who’d lived in Wrangell for a long, long time. In fact, Craig was born here, grandson of a man who came to Wrangell as a young man to establish a trading post. Back then it was rough and rowdy, with muddy streets and canoes for transportation. Now it has paved roads, sidewalks and at least five restaurants, a Trident seafood processing plant (the big money maker is the Omega-3 fish oil pressed from salmon roe), commercial fishing and a favorite docking spot for pleasure craft. Smaller cruise ships call in here on a regular basis so there is tourist income, too. It has a wonderful, small but well designed history museum and a brand new hospital. There are three family practice docs in town but no anesthesiologist. If you need that, you go to Anchorage or Seattle. No birthing center either. 

Also, no street addresses. Everyone gets their mail at the post office. Directions are given, “I live up The Road (the main road has a name but it’s always just called The Road) just past Bob Smith’s place.” It could be Mayberry.

Craig’s wife Kerry, once worked for Cruise West, the first cruise ship we were ever on. She even wore her Cruise West name tag and we rode around the area in a little Cruise West bus. She was surprised that we had traveled with them through Alaska.  We saw a lot of the town, the museum and the petroglyphs on the beach. They were such fun to chat with that we followed them to the local place for a great cup of chowder and sandwich and continued our visit.

The town is very walkable. We wandered about, stopped at a drug store/general store for NyQuil. Only 11 dollars and change. We thought for sure it would be at least 20. More end-of-the-season low inventory of touristy stuff. Looks like I’ll be souvenir shopping in the Vancouver airport!

Back to a strong Wi-Fi signal, too. 

We leave at 7 tonight, about sunset. They’re having a special Indian dinner tonight in the Yacht Club, our favorite restaurant for breakfast and lunch. It’s normally not open dinner. The executive chef on board is from Mumbai so it should be good. 

We’ll be at sea for two days until we land in Vancouver where we disembark. 

omes the Sun

 Here Comes the Sun

Kake, Alaska

September 15, 2022

What a great day! The sun was out, Kake was a pleasant surprise and the people who guided us about were so forthcoming. 

Did I mention the sun was out? For the first time since Matthew Island. Blue skies, no wind, no rain. It was the best day of the trip. Everyone dug out their sunglasses, hats and sunscreen for our morning visit to Kake. It once had both logging and fish processing industries but those are gone along with half the population. 550 or so Tlingit people remain, more or less living a similar subsistence lifestyle as there ancestors have for 1000s of years. 

Before we left the ship, Fallon, the Cultural Practitioner, and two of her former students came aboard to welcome us, talk a little bit about life in Kake and sing some Tlingit songs. Fallon is a learned speaker. Even though she grew up in Kake, the Tlingit language and culture were discouraged to the point of near extinction. She left Kake for a while, but returned so her children could grow up there. She began taking language lessons from the elders (Tlingit is not a written language. It has 40 consonants, 8 vowels and a range of guttural sounds.) an eventuality began teaching school children (100 students K-12) their native tongue. It’s distinctive rather than lyrical. Her sidekicks, young women in their 20s, wore gorgeous capes decorated in buttons and embroidery with their tribal animals. They sang a couple of native songs and You Are My Sunshine in Tlingit and then it was time to board the tenders and go ashore. 

We did a little shopping at a craft market set up for us in the community center/basketball gym just off the dock. Jim was hung ho to buy our grandson a drum like the one Fallon played but since that is pretty much textbook cultural appropriation that was a no go.  I opted for a necklace made by a local silversmith instead. I can almost hear the sigh of relief coming from Lucas’s parents. 

The pride of the city is the 132’ totem pole, the largest ever carved from one single spruce tree. It was commissioned in the early 70s and began the restoration of the Tlingit language, customs and art. It is a story totem that honors each of the tribes with carved interpretations of their mythical stories. It was once painted in black, white and teal, but is now weathered and grey. The Tlingit believe that totems shouldn’t be restored, but allowed to age naturally and eventually return to the earth, called “walking into the forest.”

Across the street, in the fire department’s garage, Fallon’s brother, was working on a commissioned totem for a customer in Juneau. He was carving a red cedar he guessed to be 300 years old. 

And speaking of forests, some of the conifers are draped in a light green material like Spanish Moss in coastal southern trees. This stuff is called Old Man’s Beard and only grows in very pure air. Lots of deep breathing to fill our lungs with the good stuff.

We had a special guest, the eldest of the elders, Marvin, age 90, talk to us about his life. Charming guy and a proud Korean War veteran. Courtney and Kelly (they all have Tlingit names that can’t be spelled phonetically) gave us the practical information of living in Kake. Most are employed by the local or state government, the school, the clinic. Their electricity is generated by diesel in Juneau. The state subsidizes some of the cost. Food and any other supplies come by water from Seattle once a week. The women says their biggest expenses is freight. A gallon of milk is $12, $2 for one onion and a single  avocado will set you back 7 bucks. 

Their protein comes from fish they catch or moose they hunt. Fallon has three deep chest freezers; one for fish, one for meat and one for everything else. Today is the first day of hunting season. As she drove us back to the dock on an old, but very comfortable Princess Tours bus, Fallon was keeping an eye out for the first Moose head of the season mounted on the hood of the proud hunter’s truck. We didn’t see that but there was a man filleting a big halibut on the dock by the tenders. 

The wildlife highlife was watching a trio of black bears filling up with the dead and dying spawning salmon from a bridge over the stream. FYI Bears prefer the heads. Lots of birds helping themselves to the salmon buffet, too. Also FYI, dead and rotting salmon stink.

 

We had to head back to the ship by noon when our ship headed down the Inland Passage towards Wrangell. After lunch Myrta and I went up to the bridge to watch the captain and others doing their jobs and to look for whales. Various crew members take turns with binoculars watching for wildlife in the water ahead. It didn’t take long for the first humpbacks to appear, blowing and slapping their tales. Then we had an escort of porpoises for a while. 

100” of Rain a Year

 

Sitka, Alaska

September 14, 2022

Sitka gets 100” of rain a year and I’m pretty sure most of that fell on us today.

When we got up this morning it was still windy, rainy and rough. There were not too many people at breakfast. Another thing about real world re-entry, no concerned waiter to bring me toast and a pot of tea for breakfast. I’m fairly certain I was a princess in a previous life.

We got to Sitka around noon. For once it was coolish but not raining. Jim and I went out on the foredeck in just light jackets and watched seals frolic around as we drove past another Norwegian ship to anchor spot #1, closest to the tender dock. And again we didn’t anchor but the ship did that hover in place maneuver with thrusters and GPS. This is the Scenic Eclipse’s first visit to Sitka so smaller boats were zooming around to get a closer look.

By the time we boarded (so easy to do in calm waters) the tenders for shore it was really raining. Put the brakes on strolling around town and shopping but we did go out to the Raptor Center with a lot of other people from the Norwegian. Time to be polite and share. 

The Raptor Center takes in injured raptors, nurses them back to health and then releases them back into the wild. Some of the birds cannot regain the strength and skills to survive out there, so they become “teaching” birds both in Sitka and other similar centers across North America. Today we met Spirit, a mature bald eagle that had arrived at the center after being hit by a car while eating some roadkill in Juneau. She never regained the ability to fly straight and was always a second or two slow to do any tasks. She could never make it on her own. So she came out onto the stage with a young woman who told about raptors and the work at the Center. She was giving Spirit rat bites (as in bites of rat) as a treat. There were at least two eagles being rehabbed in the huge aviary/nursery. Fascinating place run by people passionate about their work.

Next we went to The Fortress of the Bear. In this case, the bears living there will never return to the wild. They are all orphans,  both brown and black bears. Jim and I were there three years ago just as a couple of cubs had arrived. They were small and adorable and tumbling all around. They are now four years old, big and not tumbling around so much. Needless to say, they receive excellent care so look magnificent. They also will ham it up for the humans snapping pictures by the dozens. A nice visitors center has been added since we last visited. Plans are now afoot to  make the bears’ habitat look more natural. 

Our final stop was a salmon fish hatchery. These fish are not “farmed,” rather the salmon from the hatchery return to it to spawn. The eggs are harvested, fertilized and then raised until large enough to be released into the bay and then out into the open ocean until they return to their birthplace to spawn and die. The pinks were going up the faux river to spawn. Just outside the net fence, Earl the sea lion was enjoying the salmon buffet. Ditto the eagles. We had another delightful guide. She’d visited Sitka on vacation with her parents, loved the place so went back to Boston, changed her major to marine biology  and returned to Sitka. That seems to be a common refrain among the young people we’ve met along the way. They come here on vacation and then stay for the adventure of it all. 

It’s still raining and getting close to last tender back to the ship, so once more, no shopping. I may leave Alaska with more money than I brought. 

Tomorrow, Kake. Yeah, had to Google that and still am not quite sure why it’s on the itinerary. Stay tuned. 

At Sea/ Hubbard Glacier

 At Sea/Hubbard Glacier

September 13, 2022

Another grey day. Grey seas, grey sky. The helicopter flights over the glacier have been canceled. The ceiling is just too low but the captain has promised that the four-mile visibility won’t hide our shipboard view of the Hubbard Glacier, one of the few advancing glaciers in Alaska and at 76 miles long, one of the largest in North America. 

The weather never improved as we approached the glacier. Really windy. Really rainy with very poor visibility. Everyone is just aiming their cameras over the bow and hoping something glacier-like appears in the pictures. 

We had to sail through a lot of chunks of  sea ice to get close enough to see the glacier. There’s a local pilot on board who makes the call if it’s safe to go through the ice fields. Rumor has it that our dockside neighbor from Seward, the Norwegian Jewel opted not to approach the glacier. Frankly, I don’t blame them. The weather is just awful. I remember previous trips when you had to wear a coat, hat and gloves for the cold but we all gathered on the foredeck in the sun and marveled at the immensity of the Hubbard Glacier. I guess we floated around for an hour or so. Every once in a while there was a loud boom indicating the glacier had “calved” which is when a chunk of the front edge separates and falls into the sea. Speed of light VS speed of sound means if you hear the boom you’ve already missed the calving.

Now we’re going back out into the Gulf of Alaska to reach Sitka by noon tomorrow. The captain has already warned us that we’re going to be heading into a 38 knot wind and choppy seas. This translates into “hang on!” It’s sort of like your dentist saying there might be a little discomfort. Uh oh

I’ve learned that if the heavy seas warning goes out, one should jump into the shower immediately before the motion gets too severe. I love that shower head but there are no grab bars in either the shower or bathroom so a bit of caution is a good thing.

We had our pre-ordered filets in the dining room for dinner. So good. Now we’re trying to think of something else we have a hankering for. Once again, re-entry into the real world is going to be abrupt and cruel so we need to take advantage of this “whatever you wish, Madam” stuff while we can!

The captain was right, when we left the bay and hit the open water the wind was screaming, the rain was pelting down and the seas were white with foam. I’ve forgotten what that would be on the Beaufort Scale. Let’s just call it nasty and leave it at that.

After so many calm days at sea, it’s time to tread carefully with “one hand for the ship.” Our cabin is located amidships and just a couple of decks up from the surface (thank you, dear Paula, our travel agent extraordinaire for reserving that suite) so the motion is pretty minimal. I went up to the Observation/Lobby which looks out over the deck and prow of the ship. Oh, my. Lots of motion up there. Up and down. Up and down. And I’m outta there. I don’t really get seasick anymore, but why take any chances?

I woke in the middle of the night and thought, Wow! I can really hear the ocean rushing by and My! Isn’t it a bit cool in here? I hadn’t completely locked the sliding glass door to the balcony and the movement of the ocean had opened it a few inches. How could that happen? That thing weighs a ton! Slammed that bad boy shut and locked it but good. Gotta respect the ocean.

One more thing…

 One more thing…

I completely forgot about the most surprising thing that happened in Homer.

We hopped on one of the shuttle buses out on the Spit and decided to ride into town (8 miles) just for fun and to stop at the Safeway for some Advil. PePe, the ornithologist. came with us just to make sure we got back to the ship. As we were trudging along from the Safeway to the museum shuttle stop, we flagged down a passing shuttle who seemed to have been tasked with meandering around looking for stray passengers. I was looking out the bus window and all of a sudden, there’s a moose! On the sidewalk! In the middle of a neighborhood! We were all so startled that no one got a picture but we got a close up view before the moose disappeared through a shrub into, I’m guessing, someone’s back yard.

100% Chance of Rain

 100% Chance of Rain

Seward, Alaska

September 12, 2022

After a week of being the only ship in port we awoke this morning to backing up beep beep beeps of lift trucks, flashing brake lights on a row of buses and a great wall of balconies. We were sharing the dock with the  Norwegian Jewel. 950+ feet long, 15 decks of balconies, 2400 passengers and 1100 crew. If there were sun, it would probably be blocking it!

Welcome to Seward. Nestled between mountains and the ocean, it’s a lively, bustling harbor. Some of the cruise ships are now embarking and disembarking passengers in Seward rather than Whittier on the other side of Anchorage. It’s easily accessible by road or rail from Anchorage and less than a day’s sail from the massive Hubbard Glacier.

Last night the captain advised that we might run into some “movement” as we entered the Gulf of Alaska en route to Seward, but once again the stability features of the Scenic Eclipse did their job. Barely felt any movement. Alas, the continuing cloud cover has hidden the Northern Lights. 

We arrived in Seward about 7:30 am. Once again, wet and rainy but little wind and not really that cold, around 50 F. Of course we are layered up, which helps. My last minute REI raincoat purchase is a success. Repels water like a champ.

Myrta went on a wildlife spotting boat on Resurrection Bay while Jim and I spent the morning at the Seavey’s Homestead and summer home of their Iditarod champion dogs. It was just a quick ten minute ride from the harbor. What a place! A long row of very handsome cabins, with hanging baskets of flowers yet, are the dog houses. The Seavey’s have 100 racing dogs. In the summer they live in Seward, give tours  and dog “sled” rides to visitors. There are fourteen dogs on each team. They were harnessed up and eight of us rode in modified ATVs as the dogs went flying along a two mile gravel trail. They live to run, so this both allows them to do so as well as building up their strength for the Iditarod race each March. They run best in temps from -30 to + 20 F so every so often our musher would stop the dogs for a few minutes   and allow them to cool down. They’re all pretty quiet as they’re hitched up but once the last dog is attached to the line, they all start to bark and yip like crazy.  The noise is deafening and the ride is thrilling, through giant puddles, along a raging creek and back to the compound. 

Then we spent some time indoors with hot chocolate and one of the drivers demonstrating how the dogs and drivers are bundled up for the long, arduous race. The Seaveys have won fourteen Iditarods with  three generations of mushers.  One of the dogs pulling our sled was Keys, an Iditarod champion. The dogs are much thinner than you’d expect and definitely don’t look like fluffy Huskies. 

Last of all, puppies! Half a dozen little guys from one litter were handed out to us to hold and cuddle. It’s great fun fir the humans and helps to socialize the dogs. Litters are named with a theme. Types of pasta, hats, cheese, music. The youngest Seaveys, the fourth generation, is in charge of choosing names, with veto power given to their grandfather.

  

Fun morning. The city of Seward was running a shuttle to town, but after lunch it was really raining. Not a blinding downpour but a steady, unrelenting rain. I’d planned to visit a quilt shop in town plus look for a bookstore but spent the afternoon instead in the observation room/library chit chatting with Myrta while she worked on a very complicated needlepoint. The bag of knitting I brought along is still in the drawer. 

We had dinner  in Lumière with another member of the Discovery Team, Saskia from Reunion Island in the Indian Ocean. It’s so fascinating to learn about the career path taken to arrive on this boat. Ah, to be 50 years younger and ready and able to set off on such an adventurous life. 

The chef made us an amazing chocolate cake for a special dessert to mark our 41st anniversary. JJ decorated our room with folded towel swans and red hearts. Happy Anniversary, Jim. 

The End of the Road

The End of the Road

Homer, Alaska

September 11, 20221

Just as Tom Bodett said on his NPR show, Homer is indeed at the end of the road, specifically Alaska Highway #1. It’s fairly temperate (once again, temperate for such a northern location), about four hours by car from Anchorage, known as the halibut fishing capital of the world. 

We “anchored” as before without actually anchoring just off the Homer Spit that juts out from the city. A remnant of an ancient glacier, the Spit is now Hamer’s tourist district. 

We also landed at low tide.  Very low tide. In six hours it will rise over 20 feet. The pilings in the boat marina (100s of boats) are 40 feet tall to accommodate the tide falls that can reach 28  feet. We tendered to a landing dock in that marina and then had to climb up a long, steep, very,  very steep gangway.  It had steps built in! The Health App on my phone said it was equal to three flights of stairs. 

It’s another grey, drizzly day. Looking at pictures we’ve taken it looks like they’re in black and white. Very dramatic and artsy. Our original cruise around Kachemak Bay was canceled because the local tour operator couldn’t get enough people to work, a very common problem everywhere. We wandered in  and out of shops along the Spit (many were already closed until next May) before returning to the ship which then moved a few miles across the bay for kayaking and Zodiac exploring.  Myrta and Jim both got pictures of wildlife (harbor seal for Jim, sea otter for  Myrta, with the Scenic Explorer in the background. 

A pretty quiet day. 

A couple of nights ago the Executive Chef stopped by our dinner table to chat. Myrta asked him if ravioli would be on the menu any time soon (the menus in all the restaurants change regularly) and he whipped out a little notebook and asked if spinach and ricotta in truffle sauce would please on the 11th. We’ll, yes, kind Sir, that would be lovely. And so we had that ravioli for dinner as scheduled. Delicious. Our server told us we could order anything with 24-48 hours notice so we ordered filets for the 13th. Myrta and I also signed up for a class given by the pastry chef on the next sea day. Wonder if he/she will tell me how to make those delicious little kiwi Pavlova in the Azure Cafe? Luxury Adventure is in the eyes of the explorer. 

Kodiak

 Kodiak 

September 10, 2022

Kodiak Island is the second largest island in the United States, second only to the island of Hawaii. 

The total population on the island is approximately 13,000 with the majority of those residents, about 5,500,  living in and around the city of Kodiak and its road system. The largest industries in Kodiak are commercial fishing (2,000 commercial fishing boats are based there) and seafood processing. Even the city trash cans are decorated with vintage canned fish labels. 

It is also home to the Integrated Support Command (ISC) Kodiak,  the largest operating installation run by the United States Coast Guard. It covers 23,000 acres of Kodiak Island with over 3,500 active duty, retired military, DHS civilians and family members.

The humans share the island with 3,500 Kodiak brown bears, the largest bears in the world. Two thirds of the island is the Kodiak National Wildlife refuge providing them with a pristine environment and plenty of food. 

The climate is relatively mild for the location, generally between 40 and 60 F. It’s also usually cloudy and always damp. 

We spent the morning walking around the docks and town with one of the best guides we’ve ever had. Anna has lived in Kodiak for 23 years, was married to a commercial fisherman and has worked for various business and government agencies in the area. Some of her most dramatic stories were told at the fisherman’s memorial with brass plaques naming every commercial fisherman lost at sea. And there were dozens and dozens of names, the latest from just last month. From these tragedies have come safety improvements that have saved many lives. She even pulled a bright red survival suit out and demonstrated putting it on. It protects the wearer from the icy seas and is also buoyant. She said she made her then 10-year-old daughter practice putting on her suit countless times before she went out on the Bering Sea with her dad. Yikes! 

We spent some time in the small but inviting history museum that had a great gift shops. The various museum shops feature art, jewelry, books and crafts by native artists which makes for very special souvenirs to take home. Ask me how I know. 

Then we walked up the street to the Russian Orthodox Church, claimed to be the oldest in the US as does the one in Dutch Harbor, a distinction of much debate between the two towns. 

After we left the tour, Jim remembered exactly where the quilt shop was. We’d visited years ago on another stop in Kodiak and he walked right to it. Bought some Alaska-looking fabric. Alas the near-by yarn shop was closed. 

Back to the ship on the  school buses the town provided as a shuttle service between dock and town. Kodiak is a bit cold, a bit damp, but everyone we met loved living there. The high cost of fuel was the main reason a lot of cruise ships had canceled planned visits to Kodiak this season. Too bad. 

Huge stacks of the unused huge king crab traps were stored on the dock. Also too bad. As the availability of seafood such as the king crab and cod is threatened by climate change and/or over-fishing, the state of Alaska is working with scientists to develop farmed seafood industries  such as oysters, kelp and sea cucumbers. I’m now on the  lookout for products made from kelp  under the “Barnacle” label— hot sauce, popcorn seasoning, bbq sauce. I’ll make Jim test taste them first!