Summer in Juneau, July 13- July 22, 2012

This is our favorite Alaskan city – an assessment partly attributed to our longest period of non-stop warm and sunny weather we have thus far enjoyed and  only slightly influenced by the presence of a Starbucks and Costco.  Juneau is the third largest city in Alaska and the state capitol.  It also has the worst internet service we have experienced (hence no blogging), as well as a north south road that leads to nowhere – it simply stops on both ends.   You can’t go east - there are only mountains - you can go west but only by boat.  This explains the Palin fiasco and evokes a bit of sympathy from me - how can you know anything about the world's geopolitical scene when your own town is a dead end?  Nevertheless, the road that does exist takes you to some of the most scenic vistas, beautiful glaciers, and spectacular mountains we have encountered. 

Salmon Going in for Smoking

Our boat is moored in the heart of downtown,  at the foot of Mt Roberts, and sandwiched between the cruise ships - as many as 6 a day - and there is always one right in front of our boat -  which is now starting to feel  like a bathtub toy.   There is also a fish processing facility at the top of the ramp from the dock and every day thousands of salmon are unloaded from the fishing boats and thrown into a conveyer belt that feeds them into the processing plant and then out the door as smoked salmon.  And the smoked salmon?   Let me just say that I will be shipping all my future smoked  salmon needs from Juneau.

Mendenhall Glacier

Our first stop is the Mendenhall Glacier, an inland glacier that has an enormous waterfall and great hiking.  In fact, we did a fair amount of hiking during our entire stay, including a 2,200 foot hike up Mt Roberts on some rough terrain with muddy washouts on parts of the trail causing us to scramble up and over tree roots.  Luckily we had our trusty dog, Zippy, to lead the way, he is clearly part mountain goat.  We decided against the hike back down and opted for the luxury of the tram – a decision Zippy clearly endorsed.

View From Mt. Roberts
(We Hiked All the Way)

Water Falls at Mendenhall Glacier

Of course the highlight of our stay was the arrival of the Moores clan, sans Peter, with the addition of a Dickie – Brian.  They were there with us for two whirlwind days of activities before we set sail south back toward Ketchikan.  We made the most of our time including a helicopter ride to Hebert Glacier for dogsledding.  Now I have always had a certain antipathy for helicopters -  a single blade that takes you straight up in the air seems to defy gravity more directly than the gradual ascent of an airplane.  But I was comforted on the drive to the airport when our van driver assured us of the capable and highly experienced pilots we would have – retired air force pilots and commercial airline pilots.  Ah yes, the crusty, crew-cut  ex-air force lieutenant, maybe even a general, with a twinkle in his eyes as he expertly, for the millionth time, takes control of the cockpit and safely deposits us on the face of a glacier.  Unfortunately, that was not our pilot.  When we boarded,  we found a 12 year-old girl with a pony tail at the controls. I quizzed her on her air force training, none, but she seemed capable, mainly because I lived to write this.



Looking as Skeptical as I Feel

The dog camp, in a bowl of the glacier, at 2,000 feet , was sunny and pristine.  The dogs were harnessed and eager, based on the barking jumping up and down, to get going.  It was an hour ride with many stops for the dogs who were getting hot from the sun.  Most interesting, the Iditarod dogs are trained to poop as they run…, hmmm, if only Zippy could be so trained.

Hebert Glacier

And the Winner Is....




We milked Juneau for all it had, superb fish, good tourist shopping and even a great haircut/color job by, none other than,  Sarah's stylist - and you have to admitt, she does have great hair.  But,  it's time to take the Moores' clan to the rawer parts of Alaska and have some adventures of the wild life kind.

Skagway, July 7 – 10, 2012: Authentic Alaska or Disney?

This is What I Call a Gray Day
Passage to Skagway

We have finally reached the northern end of the inside passage – Skagway.  Some boaters have advised us to skip this last 100 mile leg from Icy Straits up the Lynn Canal and instead take a fast boat from Juneau to spend an afternoon here.  Others have said by-pass the whole place as it’s just one big Disneyland.  Well, if landscaped sidewalks, flowerboxes, boardwalks and an absence of muddy streets defines Disney, I’m all for it.  

 We are in love with this picturesque town nestled in the Skagway River Valley, surrounded by soaring mountains.  In the late 1890s, this was the gateway for the Klondike Gold Rush.  Then the town had over 80 saloons and a population of 20,000.  Now, there are about 800 people with a summer population twice that amount.  The claim to fame here is the history of the gold rush and they do mine it for all its tourist potential. 

Train Going Through the Mountains

It is a tidy and compact town - which appeals to my Germanic nature - although, according to a guide book, it is 453 square miles, Alaska’s largest town by land mass.   And for drop dead beauty, this is the place, even the 2-4 cruise ships arriving daily have their charm.  They disgorge thousands of passengers every day yet the streets are not cluttered with tourists and the restaurants are just pleasantly full – where the heck do all the people go?

 Well, one place is the railroad station to take the scenic White Pass Yukon Train.   This is a train ride of a lifetime – a 2,865 foot climb over rivers, through tunnels and up, up, up to White Summit Pass in Canada.  It follows the route that the gold miners forged by foot before the railroad was built.  It is not a trip for those with a fear of heights, an aversion to having the ground drop away right next to you, or general concern over the safety of winding your way through narrow passes and tunnels burrowed into rocky mountain sides.   The rail track bed is no more than 5-10 feet from a cliff on either side with a shear drop off to, well, the bottom.  I clammed my eyes shut more than a few times.

2,800 Feet High

We spotted a black bear or two, mountain goats – although I don’t count it as a real sighting since they were asleep and far up in the mountains.  We saw more breath taking scenery than is even imaginable – have I mentioned before how incredibly beautiful Alaska is?  It just keeps getting more and more spectacular.  This ride alone was worth the 200 mile round trip boat ride to Skagway.

So Cuddlly Looking

The Yukon



In the 60th Parallel

Of course another reason people are reluctant to take their boat up the Lynn Canal is that it is known for its storms – gale force winds are common and because the Canal is narrow with steep rocky shores, seas can build dramatically.  And the very next day, weather started rolling in – gale force wind warnings.  Did we make haste and leave like sensible prudent boaters - like the boat in front of us which left Monday morning at 5 AM?  No, we stayed and rented a car so we could drive to the Yukon.  We passed through mountain plains resembling the barren Afghanistan Mountains, rugged, rocky ground that looked like bombs exploded causing the ruble.  Further on a gray, sci-fi moon scape unfolded to lakes nestled in the valleys of the mountains - mountains as red as the Sonora Desert in Arizona.  And then back to snow covered mountain peaks.  

We make it all the way to the 60th Parallel in the Canadian Yukon and find not much there - except beauty.  Whitehorse, the biggest town, has a population of approximatly 27,000 and, we were told, it also has 90% of the population of that region.  I know we didn't see many people and we were happy to leave the desolation behind for  lively Skagway - suddenly 800 people looked like a booming metropolis.
Yup, bring on Disney any time.

Sunset in Disney

Glacier Bay, July 2-4, 2012: Dodging Whales and Skirting Glacier Chunks

Purse Seiners Competing for Fish in Icy Straits
T

As soon as we leave Icy Straits and turn the corner at Point Gustavus, we enter Glacier Bay and for the first 30 miles or so, are traveling in whale protected waters.  No speeding (13 Kts or less), remain one mile off shore and if you don’t, the Glacier National Park Rangers will hail you on Channel 16, call out your vessel by name and let you and the listening audience know that you have violated the whale rules.  Not that I was called or anything…and really, I meant to stay 1 mile away.



Entering Glacier Bay

Glacier National Park is 3.3 million acres of mountains, glaciers, waterways and forests – it is only accessible by boat or float plane. 250 years ago, this entire 60 mile long bay was itself a glacier, pushing out the native Tlingits and forcing them to relocate across Icy Strait to the city of Hoonah.  One native we spoke to lamented the fact that they were pushed out by nature and now the glaciers have retreated. 

360 Degrees of This Beauty

We were lucky enough to snag a permit to enter the park – just 25 boats are allowed in at a time.  Vessels entering must first report to the ranger station at Bartlett Cove, where their operators are required to attend a 45 minute orientation. A video gives us the history of the park, reiterates the rules (no dogs on shore), and tells us where mountain goats have been sighted, the puffins' favorite hangout and the fact that the bears are particularly aggressive this year.  Great.

Are You Looking at Me?

 Our trip north to the first anchorage is filled with nature sightings, grizzlies are roaming the shore, sea otters frolicking in the water and in the distance, with my binoculars, I see several whales.  Excitedly, I turn to tell Jim and as I look to my left, a whale surfaces right next to our boat.  All this time spent glued to my binocs and I almost fail to see what is right in front of me.

We spend the first night safely tucked into Shag Cove and the next morning, while we are having our coffee, we spot a black wolf meandering along the shore line.  As we proceed north in search of the glaciers, we get a radio call from Mellow Moments, our cruising friends from BC to Ketchikan.  25 boats in the park - what are the chances we would both be here at the same time?  Excitedly we exchange wild life sighting stories, as thrilled as kids at Disneyland.



Glacier Chunks Floating

 The mountains in Glacier Bay Park are simply unbelievable, unbelievable – they go on for miles and miles, actually, 60 miles from the entrance to the northern most head of the bay.  The vastness and majesty is humbling. 3,000 – 4,000 foot snow covered jagged peaks in every direction you peer, all of it drenched in sunlight with the turquoise milky waters glistening as far as your eyes will take you. 

Glacier Chunks in Turquoise Waters

Just when we think we can’t possibly stand this much beauty any more we are jolted out of our reverie by the hundreds of ice chunks floating all around us as we near Margerie Glacier.  We slow to a putter and hear the deafening clickity-clack of the ice careening off the boat and then, as the chunks get bigger, kerthunk, crash, grind.  This is not for the faint of heart and having heard stories about boaters props chewed up by the ice, my knees turn noddle-ly and we veer 180 degrees out of the ice-choked inlet and back into safer waters.  We spend the day ogling 3 different tide water glaciers, each one in an ice- strewn inlet – so we view from a distance. When we later admit our cowardice to Gay and Wyman, they say everyone feels that way the first time but you get used to it.



Glacier in Foreground

The next day is a wild-life bonanza at S. Marble Island - hundreds of sea lions draping themselves on top of each other and over the small rocky island – raucously barking and groaning like boisterous old drunks.  We circle the small island and see seagulls perched by the hundreds and eagles roosting as well. When we are just a little past the island, we spot the puffins lounging in the water, all white and yellow faces and orange beaks.  My life is complete now.

Our last night in Glacier Park we anchor in Bartlett Cove, the ranger station, and take a one-mile hike in the woods.  After all the snow and icy glaciers, it’s soothing to be surrounded by a forest of deep greens.  A ranger on the path tells us he just spotted a moose. The wild-life authorities tagged it with an orange collar to aid the study of their habitat.  We search high and low, tip-toeing and whispering – but no moose.

Awwww.....

After dinner at the lodge, located near the rangers station, we decide to take a stroll along the shore. Just as we are at the crest of a hill about to start the trail, I spot a moose in the distance grazing at the waters edge.  Armed with a camera and an appalling lack of ability to see anything that is directly in front of me, I race off ahead of Jim to snap some photos but now I can’t find the darn moose.  Jim, who is behind me, whistles me back, as I have stormed right past said moose, who is a mere 3 yards to my right.   She is not camera shy and while she ruthlessly rips at the tree height foliage, we get some good shots of a mug only a mother could love.  A perfect day.

Sunset in Barlett Cove

Tenakee Springs, July 1, 2012: Quintessential, Quirky Alaska

Only Road in Town

One skinny, muddy, dirt road shoots the through town – population 100, swelling to 200 in the summer.  The posted speed limit is 10 MPH but since no cars or trucks are permitted I guess they’re talking to the golf carts draped in canvas and sport utility wagons topped with blue tarps that tool up and down the road to nowhere – it ends on both sides of town.  The claim to fame here is the natural hot springs in the public bath house – “Nude Bathing Only Please” – Men 6 AM - 9 AM, Women 9 AM -12 PM and so on, staggered throughout the day, until late in the evening when there is a free for all.  No clothes,  no soap - no thanks.

When we are close to the harbor, Safari radios us, having parted company and destinations with them in Sitka, to tell us they just left Tenakee Springs and there is a great bakery in town that serves cinnamon rolls.  It just so happens that I am on a quest to find the best cinnamon roll.  Last summer I started this journey and I had plenty of contestants up and down the BC coast as every harbor and town we went to had a bakery with cinnamon rolls.  I just assumed I would continue up the coast in Alaska trying every cinnamon roll, large small, frosted or glazed - I would try them all, my quest having no boundaries, no sacrifice too great.

Words to Live By

Turns out my quest has been squelched as there are no bakeries in Alaska thus far, well…,   Ketchikan has a bakery in town but since it is only open when cruise ships are in – nada.  Next, Wrangle has no bakery, they barely have a town.   Meyers Chuck, the hamlet of 20 people, has cinnamon rolls but you must call the Post Mistress – yes, post mistress - ahead of time to let her know you’re coming and she will bake them and deliver them to your boat – a full service postal office. Unfortunately, I did not know this in advance.  Petersburg had a bakery but the owner developed a gluten allergy and closed – you can’t make this stuff up.  Sitka has a bakery that does wedding cakes but they are closed for the month of June – really, June?   June is the month you want to take off? 

The Bar

The situation is so dire that just last   night I resorted to  whipping  up my own buns based on a recipe the chef from Pybus Lodge gave me after much discussion including  the merits of raisins – sometimes, nuts – never.  But now little Tenakee Springs, they have a bakery.  I am delighted.



Nicer than Most Homes

Tenakee Springs is lined with small wooden cabins, some being added onto, and a limited “commercial” district - said bakery, a general store with the basics and one bar of questionable repute – just our kind of place,  but at 7 PM on a Saturday night – it was boarded up.



 I follow the road out of town and meet up with a resident heading the same way.  He tells me that the residents of Tenakee are at their best when things are tough but other times they just stir up trouble. Sounds like the rest of the U.S.  We passed a cemetery with one raised burial spot which got me to wondering how that whole death thing works without a funeral home for embalming.  I know that further up the coast in Haines, the local True Value store sells caskets -  but here?

Local Resident
Taking a Sip From Stream

                                               

We walked further into the woods, crossed a brook,  and there on a tree hung 2 communal coffee cups tied to a branch by some wire, perfect for quenching your thirst with the fresh water cascading down from the mountains.  These streams are what provide most of the residents with their water supply, a gravity drip system tapping into these creeks.

It’s a quirky little town all right – Jim thinks its hillbilly heaven, I prefer to see it as part hippie holdout, part artist’s haven.  But the cinnamon rolls – not so much.  

June 22 – June 29, 2012, Sitka: Seven Days Sitting in Sitka

The Sitka Harbor entrance is blocked when we approach – by a humpback whale.   He is clearly claiming right of way so we stop and boats pile up behind us as we wait for him to continue on his passage, and he does so at a leisurely pace, allowing me to finally get a good picture.  I swear, between the wolves and whales swimming in front of our boat, it’s amazing we get anywhere.

We finally dock at our slip – or “stall” as they call them here, in full sunshine – not the “liquid sunshine” they joke about but the kind that has everyone scrambling for sunglasses.  Sitka is at the beginning of a 3 day heat spell – 70 degrees and the only “summer” they have seen thus far.  Many businesses shut down for the day, posting signs in the window reading “Closed Due to Weather.”  Some locals told us they hope to have a few more nice days before autumn, others complained about the heat.   

Sitka is similar to the other towns we have visited -it’s like we’ve stumbled into the middle of an episode of Northern Exposure – we don’t know the beginning of the story, we  have no idea how it will end and we don’t even know what it’s about. 

Our Dinner View from Our Flybridge - A Pink Ribbon

The town has a strong Russian and Native American history and those cultures are still on display.  There is an active Russian Orthodox Cathedral in the middle of town and a National Historical Park known informally as Totem Park.

We take a one day fishing excursion in the Gulf of Alaska with three other guys.  Of course by this time, the weather reverted to normal Alaskan climate, 50 degrees and rainy and the sea conditions are particularly turbulent.  When we get to our fishing destination - in the middle of this big body of water that looks just like every other spot around us but somehow this is the spot - Rich, our guide, anchors the skiff   in the rough waters, with high waves rolling the boat back and forth.  We are tossed around like a toy boat in a waterfall – Jim and I both had bruises from banging against every surface of the boat and the only thing we have to show for our 8 hours are our black and blue marks.  Not a single fish wanted us – the three other guys snag Halibut, silver salmon and red snapper.  They take pity on us and give us their rock fish and red snapper, which were mighty tasty.

All the Fish We Didn't Catch

Our last day is spent provisioning the boat, which takes much longer than you might imagine especially since the grocery store is 2 miles up the road, we are walking and it is raining.  First we must dress for this activity.  This means two of us in complete rain regalia, 3 schlepping carts and a good dose of humor.  The store has everything we need, and more, filling 4 large boxes.  Luckily, they have a car to take us back to the harbor.  Of course now that we are riding back to the boat, the rain has stopped.  Make that an extra dose of humor.

Dinner with Gay  & Wyman

Sight-seeing and a couple of really good dinners later and we are ready to leave civilization once more explore the remote Alaska we have come to love.

June 20-21, 2012, Ell Cove and Deep Bay, Baranoff Island: Final Solitude before the City

Ell Cove

At 7 AM the big fishing boat tied behind us in Warm Springs loudly leaves and another commercial fishing boat, that can’t possibly fit into that same spot, nevertheless circles the harbor, eyeing it with intentions of squeezing in somehow and jamming us in in the process.  We start our engine and rush out like thieves fleeing the scene of a crime.  Safari is on our heels having also been bumped out by a fishing boat they had been rafted to.  We both cruise on up the coast for 8 nautical miles and duck into tiny Ell Cove.  By 9:30 AM we drop anchor and by 10:30 AM the sun is out, kayaks are in the water and we’re off to explore. 

Actual Sand

We paddle around the corner to a neighboring cove and as we turn the bend, instead of the typical rocky beach we spy a white sandy beach!!  And the water is turquoise!!!  I feel like we are in a “Lost” episode where we hurl through a space warp and end up in the Caribbean.  We drag our kayaks onto the shore and embark on a hike of the mountain behind us for  spectacular views of Chatam Strait.

                                                                         

Chatam Strait from Mountain We Scaled, (Huff, Huff)

Tree Roots We Conquered in Climb

                                                                         

Back in the harbor, we notice millions of tiny just-hatched jellyfish floating in the water and later that night, when our generator suddenly overheats and stops, we find millions of tiny jellyfish that have been sucked into our raw water strainer.  And what better time to clean said strainer than after a wonderful dinner and relaxing glass of wine.  But hey, on the plus side, it may be 11 PM but it’s still daylight out.

Millions of Jellyfish - Yuk

The next day we anchor fifty-one nautical miles north in Deep Bay – our last anchorage before Sitka.  Dodging the crab pots filling the bay we find a spot for the evening.  A low-grade feeling of melancholy hoovers over us because we are now in love with the anchoring way of life.  Marina sluts no more – we have morphed into anchor addicts.   I had no idea I could live off the grid this well – of course, it’s much easier to live off the grid when you have a generator, bread maker and hair dryer on board - but still….

If Only I Could Get This Thing Started