Category Archives: Blog

3 August 2014 — Denali to Talkeetna, and beyond!

This was an early morning (5:00 wake-up, with 6:30 departure). We had one of the best drivers (according to Albert) on the roads in Denali, and indeed she was safe, yet able to point out the sights we wanted to see, and she got us to the train on time.  

 And Mt McKinley played hide and seek with us all though the first couple of hours.   We saw far more than most people see in the summer, we were told, so we enjoyed what we could see. The morning light on the whole of the mountain range made for spectacular images.  

Back in Denali, we were delivered to the railroad station. Contrary to most train schedules, they ran pretty much on time. The trip to Talkeetna was uneventful; we ate lunch in the dining car, enjoying the food, which was actually quite good. It was not really too pricy for Alaska, although the food remains pricy for the lower 48. Albert and Marlene (now accompanied by Matilda, a chiquaqua that we have hard about from the beginning of the trip. She is the apple of Albert’s eye, and you can see that the affection is reciprocated. We were delivered immediately to the local airport, as our next adventure is a small plane ride to a glacier about half an hour (air time) from Talkeetna. Gwen is not feeling well, so she decides to remain behind, which is good for getting our laundry done, and for getting her healthy, but it is my considered opinion after the trip that she missed one of the true highlights of our Alaskan vacation. The pilot, Jacques, piled the Sherman family (Mitch, Robin and Adam) into the 2nd and 3rd seat, and I get the co-pilot’s chair in what could have passed for a pre-WWII single engine monoplane. It is red, and the engine is a nine-cylinder wonder that never missed a beat. I don’t mind telling you that I had my qualms, as I had never flown in one of these small planes before. The dials are not that much different than I remembered from playing pilot simulation games on my first computer, an altimeter, engine speed, level indication, fuel consumption, and, oh yes, something not on my old computer, a GPS with a color display. Jacques starts the engine, using three pull-out controls on the dashboard between us, and proceeds to head down toward the runway. The plane has a short tail wheel, meaning it sits so that we are looking at the propeller, and can see quite well looking out side to side, but not so well straight ahead. We gain a little speed, and the plane rolls down to the end of the runway to execute the turn to take off. Full throttle now, playing a little with the fuel-air ratio and the flaps. We gain speed going down the runway, and in a remarkably short time, he pulls back on the bar and we are airborne. The ride is surprisingly smooth, and for the first time in a long time, I breathe. We gain altitude and head north, or something like north, I can only tell in that we see lots of trees, rivers, mountains, but no ocean. We do cross over the confluence of the three rivers (commemorated in the name Talkeetna, which means meeting of the three rivers in the Athabasca native tongue), which he tells us about. We had come by here on the train, and indeed the tracks are visible running by one of the rivers.

We’re up high enough now so that my fear of crashing into trees has been replaced by my conviction that we would not survive a fall at all. Surprisingly, I am not terrified, just mildly concerned, somewhat like being in a larger passenger plane. I guess the smoothness of the ride and the quality of the pilot’s handling of the aircraft have convinced me to leave the flying to him. We are all connected on an intercom system into headsets which enable us to talk to him, and of course he can talk to us, but we also hear all the communication with the control tower. There is another plane with us, carrying the other half of our tour group, headed to the same place we are, and they are ahead of us. The views are tremendous, and so much more satisfying than the two-dimensional views we have been seeing from the ground. One view we also got was again of Mt McKinley, which still had the cloud over the peak, but which was mostly visible to us in the evening sun.

After flying around for awhile, we come into the local mountain range, and I realize we are not flying over them, but are flying at an altitude that was less than their height. This brought more concerns, as I could see us flying right into the side of one of them. Indeed, we flew through and by them, viewing them close up as we passed. I thought I might get seasick from the rocking back and forth as he maneuvered through the peaks, but I didn’t feel any queasiness at all. To my totally unpracticed eye, it looked like we passed some of the cliffs awfully close, but miss them we did, and I am sure with plenty of room to spare. We finally went by one obvious glacier, wide with steep mountain sides on either side of it, and it is here we were to land. First, he said, we have to lose some altitude so that we are coming up to it rather than coming down on it. This did’t quite make sense to me, but of course, I wasn’t going to argue. So, descend he did, but not very far, and he turned a 270 degree turn as he descended to come in as he had said, gaining altitude. I should point out that about 10 minutes before we started this maneuver, he grabbed what for me would have been the parking brake handle on our old Honda, and started pumping away at it. The copilot’s seat was so close to the pilot’s seat that his right arm came up into my left inner elbow when he first started to pump, so I quickly moved closer to the door so he could pump. He told me that this was how he lowered the skids on which we were going to land. Lowered the skids? I had seen them skirting the wheels on the plane as we got in, and had noted the use of cables tied to the body of the plane, but it looked like a home-made structure, so I could not imagine that it actually moved. Move they did.

Jacques’ dialogue on the way was not limited to descriptions of the flora and fauna of the region. He started talking about the Athabasca Indians, and a study he had read recently relating the mitochondrial DNA (which, he explained is carried by the mother only, and therefore traces the lineage via mothers). The study had been of the DNA structures collected from the native indian populations, comparing them with that of the Asian populations from which they would have been derived according to current theory of the origin of the American peoples. The study had found a strange anomaly: the small random changes that were found in the Asian populations up to 27,000 years ago are reflected in the American Indian populations, but not those after that. The implication is that the American population separated from their Asian forebears at that time. That was as far as he got with the story, before he had to come down on the glacier, so that is as far as the story went. Once on the glacier, I asked him about it. I had read recently that there was some conflicts arising challenging the “walking across the Bering Straits” theory of the source of mankind in America, and the study he quoted seemed to fit this category. The concern is the timeline. Dating of the archeological remains suggests that the American Indians started to populating the continent around 10-12,000 years ago. When did the Bering Straits become “walkable”? Study’s suggest earlier, but now if the mitochondrial DNA suggested a separation 27,000 years ago, then what happened from then until 12,000 years ago? Interesting conversation.

Once we were on the ground (and the plane felt strange sliding on the snow), we extracted ourselves from the interior and started to explore our environment. Out in front of where we were was an obvious glacier (blue color, ridges, and so on). Behind the area where the planes were, vertical cliffs rising at least 2000 feet above our already high elevation. The snow on the ground was just that, snow. Somewhat slushy, but able to support us, snow. Across from us, at least a football field away, was the other side of this ‘valley’, with rocky outcroppings projecting up. On top of the nearest one was, to our surprise, an outhouse size building. Turns out it is indeed an outhouse. Around the rock it was on top of is a cabin that Don Sheldon built there to enable him to stay overnight if he wanted to on the glacier. The cabin (we were told, as we did not actually walk over to it) is a one-room affair, with benches around the walls where one can put a sleeping bag, and a stove in the center for heating. Everything has to be hauled in, of course, but people do stay there periodically. Don, who was a pioneer of commercial glacier flying and landing in lower Alaska, built it in the 1960’s. Our tour guide, Albert stayed there for three days with his daughter a few years ago, and said it was one of the most peaceful experiences he’s ever had.

We got back into the planes and flew back to Talkeetna. On the way, we saw two bears and two swans, although seeing was a bit of a challenge. They were small, and could only be distinguished by contrast to the background. Landing at the airport was not a problem, at least it was not for me. Jacques seemed to handle it in his stride. Me, I just pushed myself into the smallest area I could occupy on the right side of the plane.

From the airport, Albert took us on a tour of downtown Talkeetna (at least the historical part), which was not a long drive. We stopped and were able to get a table big enough for us at the Wildlife Restaurant. Dinner took awhile in coming, so we were happy to get dropped off at our hotel (Susitna Lodges) shortly thereafter for a good night’s sleep.

28 July 2014 — Sitka

Today we decided to take it easy, and just go into town and walk around. Gwen got the laundry done by 11 am, so we headed out. Once we hit the visitor’s center, we began getting hungry. They recommended a local fish and chip shop “in the ANB Hall.” We found it on the map, and walked to it. That was what it was called, the ANB Hall, and there was a sign out front telling us that they were indeed offering fish and chips. So we went inside, into what looked like a large church hall, with a kitchen off one side, and big round tables set up throughout. We ordered our fish and chips (Rockfish and chips with a couple of crab cakes on the side), and about 20 minutes later, they brought it out. It was really good, just as advertised.  While we were not alone in the hall, it did not seem very well known. And “ANB?” It stands for Alaska Native Brotherhood. We were being served by the local Tlingit tribe in their social hall.

After lunch, we walked to the Russian Orthodox Church, and the Russian Bishop’s House. The church is an active one, and indeed two priests were there as well as many visitors. The arrangement of the building was different from what I’m used to in a Catholic or Protestant Church, where the church is a hall with rows of pews and the area for the priests up front, and maybe a choir beyond. This arrangement was circular, with rows of chairs as you come in, then a central area without furniture in the center, and then beyond that a wall with doors in it, open to view, where the priests presumably occupy. On either side, there are icons with candle holders where one can invest to light a symbolic flame for a loved one or friend. The icons are (according to the signs) special messengers to God, who may choose to answer a prayer, or to channel support for the petitioner through it. The Russian Bishop’s House which is about a five minute walk from the church is no longer related to it. The house is now owned by the National Park Service, and they preserve it for its historical value. It was built in 1843 for Bishop Innocent (Ivan …..) who was one of the first Russian priests to live in the Alaskan area while it was claimed by Russia. Russia sold Alaska to the US and William H. Seward (U.S. Secretary of State) in 1867. Known thereafter as “Seward’s Folly”, Alaska was purchased for $7.2 million. The Russians had fought the Crimean war against England, France, and the Ottoman empire in the 1850s and needed money to rebuild their weakened military and political institutions.  Russia’s main interest in Alaska had been the fur trade, but it had waned as the sea lions became harder to find, and as competition from American and Canadian interests increased.  After the sale of Alaska to the U.S., the Bishop’s house was retained by the church with various functional uses until about 1970.  By that time it had gotten so expensive to keep up that it was just boarded up and abandoned. In 1972 the Park Service bought it and over succeeding years restored much of it to displayable condition.  One thing I learned was that many of the Tlingit were members of the Russian Orthodox church (as opposed to Catholic or Protestant) mainly because Bishop Innocent treated them with fairness and respected their already existing customs and practices.  He did not pressure them into his brand of religion, rather he served as a good example, and won them over with his activities on their behalf. He translated the bible into their languages.  He interceded on their behalf with the Russian traders to assure they got fair return on their efforts (they were the ones who actually trapped the animals for their furs).  After the US purchase, Roman Catholic and Protestant preachers came in to help convert the lost souls of the Tlingit people. These religious zealots took a much more dogmatic approach, and as a result, the Tlingit stayed with the Russian Orthodox Church by and large.

We then found our way back to the Visitor Center, and took a bus from there to the Alaska Raptor Rehabilitation Center. They have a variety of Raptors there.  These birds are either recuperating and awaiting reintroduction into the wild, or, if they would not survive reintro-duction, they become part of the birds for display and education.  In addition to the aviary spaces for the birds on permanent visit, there are two areas for the recuperating birds to practice flying again. Each bird in the facility has its story. Probably the most unusual is a bird that had gotten hit by a Fed Ex plane. It was more than a bit shell shocked, and it lost the feathers on one side but physically, it was not hurt. Amazing! After growing its feathers back, it was reintroduced into the wild.

We then caught the reverse bus rides, and got back to the ship at about 3:30. And now is the time for us to rest!

Tonight’s entertainment is another music show, this time entitled the Piano Man. The music was by Billy Joel and Elton John. It was very well done, as have been all the presentations. The gymnasts still continue to fascinate me. Yesterday I thought the woman was small enough to enable the man to maneuver her around very easily, but tonight, comparing her to the other women, she is no smaller than they are — he is just incredibly strong!

When we got back from dinner, we received, as I’m sure everyone did, the debarkation paperwork. It said that we had to have the bags packed and available at 11:00 pm, and be ready to exit the ship by 8:00 the next morning. Panic set in… We wanted to go the show at 9:30, and it was 8:30, so we hurriedly decided what we had to have out with us beyond 11:00 pm and packed the rest. It took awhile, but we made it to the show, and enjoyed it. At the end of the show, as he did each night, Jamie, the cruise director, reminded us what was happening the next day. But what he was saying was not making sense. He said the commentary on the Hubbard Glacier would start at 7 am, and we would be approaching to the closest point at about 8 am. He talked about tomorrow night’s show being an amateur presentation by the members of the crew, and it would start at 6 pm. I’m thinking he must be describing the show for those who would not be leaving at Seward, but how could the ship be at Hubbard Glacier at the same time we were expected to be ashore? Gwen and I went back to the room bewildered. She’s panicking as perhaps she had miscalculated by a day the whole of the next part of our journey. How can she get hold of Albert at 10:30 at night (Alaska time)! We finally got our bearings reset when we realized that indeed today was not the last day of the cruise, but the next-to-last day. The computer was contributing to the problem as it was still on Eastern Time, and thus had already turned over to July 29th, which indeed is the last day of the cruise. Rereading the debarkation notice, we realized that we were due to leave on Wednesday, and it was only Monday night (the 28th). With that realization, we breathed a sigh of relief and climbed into bed and went to sleep knowing we had a whole extra day, and indeed Gwen had planned it all correctly to begin with.

29 July 2014 — Hubbard Glacier and on to Seward

We were up early (as usual), and indeed Terry Breen started her commentary on our approach to Hubbard Glacier at 7 am. We had a spectacularly clear day (not cloudless, but relatively fog-less), and the visibility enabled the Captain to sail the ship to within half a mile of the glacier. It is indeed immense. The glacier is not smooth, as I imagined it, but quite craggy especially on top where the soot of dirt, smoke, and whatever created a gray to black covering that made clear the splits and cracks that marked the top. The main part of the glacier is characterized by the blue color we have now come to expect of the arctic ice, but it is softened by white of snow and / or melt-refreeze that made it seem like a blue creamsicle. The face of the glacier was not smooth, but also had the visage of craggy mountainsides, only with horizontal lines visible through it where dirt layers alternate with the white of snow.  The water we were floating through was full of ice rocks that had come off of the glacier. These small “rocks” helped us to see how the current flowed, as the ocean saltwater went in a giant counter-clockwise path across the front of the glacier. The glacier, Terry told us, averages 700 feet under the surface of the water where we couldn’t see it to tower as much as 500 feet above it.

Unexpectedly, the area was not quiet. The ice gave off snaps and groans as the air and water trapped in the freezing – refreezing process breaks free due to the warming brought by the daylight. Also giving off noise, much louder and deeper are the chucks of glacier dropping off the main glacier face and falling into the bay waters below. Much of the surface area of the glacier is moving, as it melts and freezes at different rates in different places, responding to the ever-changing stresses put on it. The sounds of loud booms and wails were audible occasionally, as if large land-based whales were singing their songs to each other through the air. Some of the sound is caused by ice calves dropping off the front of the glacier into the bay. We saw some large drop-offs, not so much as chunks breaking off but rather like sand falling down a steep sandpile raising a high splash as it sinks into the water.

After executing a 540 degree turn to give all a chance to see the glacier wall close up, the Captain aimed the ship back down Disenchantment Bay and we slowly made our way away.

The day passed slowly. We spent a couple of hours in the card room playing bridge, but other than that, we read or napped until time for the crew-based show. The 20 members of the crew did very well, and the show was done with humor and wit, as well as music and dancing. Notable were the couple of bamboo dances that were quite well done.

This is the diary of our trip to Alaska, starting with a cruise up the west coast from Vancouver, BC in Canada to a number of stops in southwest Alaska.  After the cruise, we went on a “Planet Earth Adventures” trip with ten other people who quickly became friends and traveling companions.  That trip was led by the owners of the travel company, Albert and Marlene Marquez.  Gwen set up the whole trip with Albert, and having now completed it, I can honestly say she did an excellent job.

22 July 2014 – Leave MI and go to Vancouver

Measured on the scale of “did we get there on the day planned?” this was a good trip   The journey to Vancouver via American Airlines is a three-part plane ride. We arrived at Flint thanks to Hank Kerr with plenty of time to spare, and happily the plane departed on time. The plane to Chicago arrived on time, and the wait there for the plane to Dallas was relatively short, and retained the original schedule. Once in Dallas, however, the trip ground to a halt. Four extra hours wait and one terminal transfer later, however, we were on-board the third plane of the day (a different plane than the airline had originally intended), and heading to Vancouver.   Arrival was much less effort than anticipated, as despite the late hour, there were plenty of taxis to take us to our hotel.  Without further delay, we got to our room, and dropped into bed.

 

23 July 2014 – Vancouver onto the cruise ship

 

 

 

 

 

Gwen’s cousin Ann, who lives in Vancouver, met us at our hotel, and we quite happily talked until we had to board the bus to take us to the port to board the Regent Seven Seas Navigator. This cruise ship is larger than the one we were on in the Caribbean at the end of 2012, as this ship has on board 400 passengers and 300 crew, versus 200 passengers and 200 crew. This ship is still small enough to have reasonable service, but larger so it can handle the waves better (at least that is my hope).

 

Once checked in, Gwen immediately unpacked us, and we were off to do something we were to find the staple of our time on board: eat! We had a nice lunch, and relaxed until dinner. We had dinner reservations in their premier restaurant, which indeed was premier. The steak and lobster was superb, while Gwen’s prime rib was also very good.

Tomorrow is a slow day, as it will be spent on board as we steam along at 15 knots up the coast of British Columbia toward Alaska.

24 July 2014 – Up the coast of British Columbia

An easy day. We spent the day reading, and helping put a puzzle together. We also explored the ship, but not much else. We were a bit worried, as it was just this kind of sailing that got me seasick on the Caribbean cruise, but dramamine did its job, and I didn’t have a moment’s problem. This cruise had its opening social foray, a “block party”, at 5:30, and we went out into our hallway, and met some very nice people. We have since seen several of them in our excursions, so it was worthwhile. Gwen got tired, but I went to the Broadway production later in the evening, and was pleasantly surprised. The production was a few songs from each of about six current Broadway productions, sung and danced by a troop of about eight members accompanied by a live band. It was professionally done, and the result was quite good. Afterwards, I found the piano bar, and enjoyed a woman who liked Carol King songs. The band that had backed the Broadway production changed venues and played Motown music in arrangements that sounded more like musak than music, unfortunately. I then joined Gwen in our room and we slept soundly through, catching up a bit on our sleep.

25 July 2014 — Ketchikan

Today started our exploration of Alaska. We were up early enough to watch the docking of the boat at Ketchikan. The day was cloudy overhead, something we are beginning to get the idea is the common weather pattern here. We got our breakfast at the Italian Restaurant, which was very tasty. I had an omelet, and Gwen had oatmeal. The food here is quite good — something we were used to from our first cruise, and this trip has so far only furthered. Our excursion started at 10:30, so we got off the boat and decided to walk around Ketchikan ahead of the excursion. We did a bit of walking, but it started raining almost immediately, so we quickly got the the point of the walk (the candy store: Kechi-Candy), bought some (got to have our chocolate!) and then waited for the excursion to begin.

Our tour was to an area just south of Ketchikan on the island we are on to a place where the largest of the three native populations has their central community. This native population is called Tlingit (pronounced “clinket”), and the location is called the Saxman Village. The village was established in 1896, combining a number of smaller such Tlingit villages into one. It is named for the priest who organized the establishment of this area, although he died before it could be completed. Apparently the native populations were suffering a small pox epidemic, thus the need to combine villages to enable a sustainable population to be maintained. Since the Alaskan gold rush was fairly close in time to this, I can only surmise the connection, but I’ll have to do some investigation to sustain my suspicion. The central part of Saxman village is the family lodge (beaver family, it turns out). This was built in the late 1890’s out of red cedar (one of three local species that are commonly available, the other two are spruce and alder). The cedar was fragrant as we walked in. Inside we were seated on wooden chairs (also made from cedar), and treated to a traditional dance and song ceremony. The singing and dancing was done by a group of Tlingit family members spanning ages 7 to 77,   It apparently is traditional for the Tlingit to welcome visitors in this way. For the last dance they invited anyone who wanted to participate, and Gwen volunteered. She was loaned a costume (or regalia, as they called it) and found a youngster who served as her mentor and guide.

Earlier we were given a short film shown by one of the Tlingit leaders explaining who they were and giving us some background, and then introduced to one of the elders who was doing traditional beadwork.

After the singing, we were taken to the local Totem carving shop, operated by one of the more famous Totem carvers (Nathan Jackson). Another of the Tlingit leaders gave us some information on the carving, and showed us some of the traditional tools. She told us that Totems cost anywhere from $1500 per foot to $4-6,000 per foot, depending on the skill level of the artist (apprentice to master craftsman). There were some interesting totems around the entrance area to the Tlingit house. Most had animals (birds such as eagles and ravens) on the top, but one had a likeness of Abraham Lincoln, and another had Seward’s likeness. The Lincoln one was carved to commemorate a visit from an American ship during Lincoln’s time as President, while the Seward one commemorated a visit by him to see his acquisition. He had apparently been the recipient of four different Pugwash events (large party where the local tribe invites all the friends and neighbors nearby to join in, and in the process spends loads of money). The idea, is that these Pugwashes are reciprocated, and as Seward didn’t do so, his totem is actually a totem of shame! It is colored as such with red ears and cheeks. The Tlingit folks were at great pains to help us understand their culture, and to feel their appreciation for our visit, and for our interest in their culture.

The second half of our excursion was to see the lumberjack show. I thought this was going to be a part of a greater competition (you know, like a summer series), but it was a one-off for our fun, done twice a day. There are two two-man teams, one team member competing in each of eleven events. We as the audience are divided into two groups and cheered for our team while booing the opponents. The competitions apparently are real enough, and I believe they are doing their best to win, but it is nicely staged.  The eleven events are as one would expect of lumberjack competitions.   The competitors chop wood logs in half, both vertically and horizontally, and up high on top of a vertical log balancing on a beam wedged into a vertical “tree”.  They saw off disks with a single and double-man cross-cut saw, as well as with a chain saw, and throw axes at a wooden target. There are competitions to tie up and belay a log from one place on stage to another. The final event is the log-rolling, where one man from each team has to get his opponent off his log two out of three times. It came down to the end, but our team won (cheer, cheer!).

We then walk back to the ship and re-embark. We’re now on our way to the next stop, where we’ll visit and go on a wildlife watching tour in the afternoon. One thing that is noticeable to me is the number of float-planes that share the waterways we have been cruising in (especially the ports). They apparently look for clear water (and air, presumably), gun the engine and they are off.  Some are fast to get up, and others take their time.