KETCHIKAN, Alaska

Last stop on our Alaska itinerary: Ketchikan - self-proclaimed salmon capital of the world. As we rounded Creek Street, the most (and perhaps only) charming street in Ketchikan, three harbor seals poked up their sleek heads as they swam upcreek on the prowl for salmon. Thousands upon thousands of salmon flooding the Ketchikan Creek on their last leg upstream parted as the seals bobbed and weaved in pursuit. Our tourist stops included the Deer Mountain Tribal Hatchery and Eagle Center and the Totem Heritage Center, both of which are tribally sponsored. The Hatchery uses untreated water from Ketchikan Creek to facilitate greater survival rates for the salmon eggs that are spawned in this creek every year and the Totem center restores and preserves early 19th century totem poles and carvings from Tlingit villages. Our unexpected find was the Cape Fox Lodge, a short funicular ride uphill that is virtually invisible from anywhere in town. Our goal when boarding the funicular was finding a decent place for lunch, our reward was an amazing collection of baskets, carvings and totems that had not been written up in any of the guidebooks we'd glanced through.

Ketchikan is the southernmost town in Alaska and receives the highest level of rainfall. True to form, we were greeted with showers but by lunchtime the sun appeared and we rambled about the rest of the day in dry shoes. The main highlight for the cruise crowd is a trip to Misty Fjords National Monument, a short flight or long ferry ride away. Not wanting to board another vessel we passed this one by only to learn that an hour out foul weather forced the ferry to turn back and we were glad to have avoided the long detour!

As I headed to the dock at the end of the day I realized it was my last moment on Alaskan soil. I lingered awhile and reviewed the awesome sights and sounds of Alaska and vowed to make it back someday.

The next day we cruised south through the Inside Passage and on to Vancouver. The last photo here captures a glimpse of the continuous and seemingly infinite view of rolling evergreen-filled mountains. Reclined on the promenade deck, wrapped in tartan blankets, the passing scenery provided a soothing retreat for pausing to reflect, while pressing forward.

GLACIER BAY NATIONAL PARK, Alaska

We spent the day cruising Glacier Bay National Park, one of the most spectacular places on earth, 3 million remote acres of uninhabited beauty. You can fly into Gustavus from Juneau and drive the 5 miles in to the visitors center and campground but beond that you'll need a kayak, some woollies and a tent. Most visitors observe the park from the comfort of one of the 139 cruise ships that cruise Glacier Bay every summer. We had the distinction of being the last boat of the 25-day season to see the Johns Hopkins Glacier, about 65 miles from the entrance of Glacier Bay and enroute passed Reid Glacier. Johns Hopkins inlet is closed to all boats until September 1 because it is a harbor seal nesting area in the summer (and one of only two advancing glaciers in the park). A host of seals were still in town sunbathing on floating chips from the glacier (see the little black specks in the photo), though most had already swam south to warmer waters.

250 years ago what is now Glacier Bay National Park was covered with glacial ice. The glacier had advanced so far that the Tlinglit who had been living in the bay were forced to move. The inlets present now were formed by this glacier and today there are only a dozen tidewater glaciers remaining in Glacier Bay. According to one of the Park Rangers who boarded our ship (via motorboat and exhilarating transfer) the enormous and accelerated glacial melting of the last few decades is a natural pattern of glacial activity and not an outcome of global climate change. The contact with saltwater is ultimately what causes the glacier to melt, not the temperature of the air. We spent a couple hours hovering about 1/4 mile from the face of John Hopkins Glacier on a sunny (for Alaska) day.

As we sadly sailed out of this otherworldly place a parade of orca and humpback whales dazzled us and punctuated a wondrous day on this magnificent planet with points of exclamation.

SKAGWAY, Alaska

Rain in Skagway! Though I had to admit rain was a walk in the park compared to the torturous (and often fatal) snow-trek of the tens of thousands of prospectors that made Skagway the gateway to the Klondike Gold Mines heading out over the White Pass or Chilkoot Pass at the end of the last century. The White Pass and Yukon Railroad, an International and Historic Engineering Landmark, that I took to the summit traverses the tracks constructed in 1901 and is a much cushier way to make the ascent and view the stunning mountains, ravines and waterfalls.

I took the 12:45 round trip - the very last train of the season - which had an unexpected surprise. It is a rite of passage for the new train operators to dive into the glacially formed lake (34-degrees warm) at the summit on their last ride of the year. Watching our initiate dive in, swim a few strokes and then wave before running back to the train made my already frigid feet shiver. For most of the three-hour ride I staked my claim on a small patch of platform outside at the end of our car to take photos and experience the thrill of huge drop-offs. Brrrrr ... when I made it back to the ship all my clothes were hung to dry on the retractable clothes line in our stateroom.

Our morning was spent wandering the boardwalky historic streets of Skagway (in the rain) which maintains two-story wooden clapboard buildings just as they were 100 years ago, though the jewelry and curio shops of today were saloons, gambling houses and brothels during the gold rush days. The National Parks Department maintains several small museums: a saloon, an original house with furnishings and an exhibit featuring the Klondike Goldmines and those that came to seek their fortunes here, which add to the historical vibe of Skagway. Another moment of interest, the U.S. military took over the town after Pearl Harbor to stage the building of the ALCAN Highway.

At 9pm, while peacefully processing photographs in our stateroom, we observed another Skagway tradition. We heard shouts and hollers and assumed it was some kind of scheduled event on board. Then Benedicta peered out our porthole and saw a swarm of young people running along the pier after our ship. Oh no, had a few busloads of stragglers missed the boat? No, these were not castoffs of the Veendam, they were about 200 Skagwayans waving and partying and mooning us as they waved-off the last "out-of-towners" and reclaimed their quiet town for another isolatory winter. Ahh, the perks of being one of the 1200 passengers on the last boat out of town.

JUNEAU, Alaska

Juneau - Capital of Alaska, accessible only by boat or plane, a land
formed from Glaciers. The Tlingits fished the bountiful waters of
Southeast Alaska long before the Russians arrived to trade and then
settle. Their influence is still felt in the native arts and crafts,
including totems that fill the handful of fine art galleries in these
parts.

Our ship, the MS Veendam docked at 2pm just as today's morning rain
subsided. We raced ashore to catch as much clear day as we could
squeeze in. First up, a 20-minute shuttle to the Mendenhall Glacier.
The "old salt" driving our bus gave a head count of the several bears
that had been frequenting the Mendenhall area but we didn't expect to
see the mama (who had just been shot with bear-mace for acting out the
day before) and her two babies in the woods by the parking lot. We
watched from 30 feet as the disinterested cubs munched on some berries
and then the three waddled across the road and up the mountain. Not
half an hour later as we wandered toward the glacier, a little black
bear emerged from the bushes and stared at the lake before circling it
in hopes of finding a late season salmon.

Before catching a return shuttle to downtown, sprinkles returned and
we hoped our planned tram trip to the top of Mt. Roberts wasn't going
to be shrouded in a sea of fog. Alas, the canopy of clouds gave a
mysterious and ethereal feel to the views of Juneau and her beautiful
surroundings. We walked the muddy trail wrapped in our rain gear and
were grateful we'd made it ashore. On the cruise north we'd run into
two patches of rough seas. The morning portion had me seasick and in
bed eating saltines and green apples. With calm waters I staged a
recovery but the captain had warned of six more hours of a rocking
ship so we tucked into bed at 8:30, just as the dips and heaves and
clanking that made me feel like I was on a waterbed in a blender
began.

By the time we docked in Juneau, not only were my sealegs intact, but
my appetite was raging. After our trip up Mt. Roberts we stopped in at
The Hangar on the Wharf, a favorite with locals and cruisers alike for
a pre-dinner snack before donning our slickers for the walk back to
our ship amused that all the locals we met considered it "great
weather for Juneau."