On July 29, 2004, Claudia and I began a phenomenal trip that I wish everyone could experience. After flying to Seattle, renting a car, and spending a pleasant afternoon and evening with John and Megan Miller in Fall River, Washington, we drove to Vancouver, B.C. on Thursday, July 30 to begin our Alaskan cruise.
Vancouver, B.C.
My first view of our ship, the Celebrity Summit, took my breath away. It is approximately 900 feet long and twelve stories high – a massive, floating hotel. It has an indoor pool, an outdoor pool, a complete workout gym, a basketball court, a movie theater, an entertainment theater which holds about 1,000 people, many shops, bars, restaurants, a casino, a card room, an art auction area, etc., etc.
We had dinner nightly in the main dining hall, sharing a table for six with Hal and Martha Eddleman, our dear Livermore friends, and with Daniel and Bea Van Damme-Beke, a couple approximately our age from Ghent, Belgium.
Jim and Claudia, Daniel and Bea, Martha and Hal
Bea was shy at first, as she was a little unsure about her English, but Daniel was outgoing and charming right from the start, and we were all amazed at his vocabulary and at how hard he worked to understand what we were saying. His English and Bea’s English both improved dramatically during the seven days we spent with them aboard ship. They were very, very nice, and we all hope we can see them again sometime – either here in California or in Belgium.
Speaking of dinner time, our waiter, Osman, from the Honduras, was fantastic. About 24, he was very polite but also very fun, and he spoiled us royally. I kidded him regularly, and he “got even” by often bringing me a second entree. Darn! The food, by the way, was unbelievable. Each night, we had a menu, which included at least three choices of appetizers, soups and/or salads, entrees (lobster, duck, prime rib, etc.), and desserts. The food was cooked to perfection, and its presentation rivaled anything to be found at the very best of restaurants. Osman, always dressed in a tuxedo, waited on three tables of six, and he had an assistant, Jirasak (from Thailand), so one can imagine how much personal attention we received.
It struck me that the huge majority of workers on board were from “emerging countries” (our cabin attendant, Peter, was from India), and we came to learn that they are only paid about $50/month over and above their room and board (this ship is registered in Liberia, which probably has no minimum wage law), and so their main source of income is from tips. We were generous in that department, and I hope the rest of the 2,000 or so “cruisers” were likewise.
Which of these two is prettier?
As I mentioned earlier, the Summit sailed from Vancouver on July 30. The harbor of Vancouver is quite beautiful, and that is a city that I hope to someday return to and get to know.
We then sailed north from Vancouver through the Inland Passage, an area of stunning natural beauty.
The Inland Passage of Southeast Alaska
Our first stop was on August 1 in Ketchikan, a small city of about 4,000 on the thin arm of Southeast Alaska. Claudia had opted to go kayaking while in Ketchikan, and so Hal, Martha and I hired a driver of an old station wagon to drive us around town. He took us to the Saxman Native Totem Village (not particularly impressive) and then five or so miles outside of town to a place called Herring Gulch, where we saw salmon swimming up a narrow creek surrounded by dozens of bald eagles. The bay was filled with fishing boats, and I wished I could stay there at least a week or so.
Heron Gulch outside of Ketchikan
He then drove us to the Totem Bight State Park, which showcased many wonderful totems and included a ceremonial house used by the Tlingit Indians. Our stay there ended in a museum and shop, which had an impressive array of guns, including a civil war era Gatling gun.
Totem Bight Park near Ketchikan
Three things stick out in my mind from our tour of Ketchikan: an old run down house that once was the home of a chief and will therefore not be torn down but will eventually rot, or I should say, “recycle” back to the earth, the local school which is built on stilts so the children can have recess outside under the school during the snowy and rainy seasons, and the school playgrounds (including baseball and football fields) which are made of gravel, not grass, for drainage purposes.
When we returned to the ship, I met up with Claudia, who had had a wonderful time kayaking over to Whiskey Cove and had made a new friend, Catherine, her kayak mate from New Jersey. We then walked over to the famous Creek Street, which houses some charming shops and the famous Dolly’s Brothel from the gold rush days. During Prohibition, rum-runners, or bootleggers, used to come through Whiskey Cove into Creek Street and deposit their kegs up through a trapdoor in the floor of Dolly’s place.
Creek Street, Ketchikan
Midway into Creek Street, we took a funicular up a steep mountain to a restaurant where we enjoyed the view and our lattés (as in coffee).
View of Ketchikan from a restaurant above Creek Street
Our next stop (on August 2) was in Skagway, an extremely picturesque and quaint little town of probably only a few hundred inhabitants. The whole town basically covers about a four block downtown area with interesting shops on both sides of the street.
Hal and Jim joining forces with the prospecters of '98
The four of us then took a narrow gauge railroad trip up White Pass, one of the two routes that the miners used to go to the Yukon interior in ’98, the other being the Chilkoot Pass, the pass on which my great-grandfather, Michael McKanna died. The rail line was built, by the way, beginning in 1898. The ride was breathtaking and frightening at times, as we looked hundreds (if not thousands) of feet straight down or crossed wooden trestles that made us want to say our prayers. We had been advised to sit on the left side of the train, as all the views were on that side, but part way up the pass, Martha’s acrophobia acted up, and she opted to trade a very grateful right-side passenger seats. On the ride, we passed the cemetery which “houses” the bodies of Soapy Smith, an infamous con-man of the gold rush days, and Frank Reid, the lawman who shot and killed, and was shot and killed by, Soapy. Among Soapy’s famous cons was his telegram scam. He would charge miners $5 to send a telegram back down to the lower 48 and then would manufacture responses from their “loved ones,” often asking for money to be “wired home.” Yet, Soapy’s telegram wires disappeared into a lake and went no farther. Frank Reid was given a hero’s burial with the whole town turning out, while Soapy’s funeral was only attended by the minister, the grave digger, and a mysterious “woman in black” whom history has still been unable to identify.
The train ride was one of the highlights of the trip for me, although I am sorry it didn’t go quite all the way to Bennett Lake, where my great-grandfather is buried. Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to visit his grave on my next trip to Alaska!
An old bridge as viewed from the White Pass train
Another point about the miners and their hardships going up the trail in 1898 amazed me. The Canadian government demanded that each prospector carry in 2,000 pounds (one ton) of supplies. There were no stores in the Yukon, and so the government figured each person needed that much to last a year up in the Wilderness. Thus, the prospectors used mules to help carry their supplies. However, thousands of mules died along the way, and so most of the prospectors had to carry whatever they could on their backs up to the top, leave it there, and go back down for the next load, over and over again. What a hardship! Their stashes were guarded, and if anyone stole from anyone else’s stash, they were immediately hanged – no trial, just execution!
Our train ride ended in Fraser, B.C., and so we had to bring our passports along to pass back into Alaska. We traveled from Fraser back down to Skagway by bus, and our driver regaled us with many interesting stories, including one about “Bruce the Moose.” Apparently, the White Pass and Yukon Route Railroad used to guarantee that passengers would see “wildlife” or get their money refunded. Well, it turned out for some reason that such creatures were not so plentiful in that area for a while, so the company hired a big man named Bruce to dress up in a moose costume, and as a train approached, he would wander out near (but not too near) the rail line so the passengers could take pictures. One time, however, Bruce noticed that one of the tour guides was waving his arms frantically and pointing behind Bruce. When Bruce turned around, he saw a very large bear approaching quickly. He started to run (on two legs, not on all four) and was ready to jump out of his costume when the bear caught up with him. As they were wrestling on the ground, the bear suddenly said, “make it look real, or we’ll both get fired.” Groan!!!
Back down from Fraser, we stopped at a small encampment named Liarsville. The name originated from the fact that many of the newspaper reporters back in the gold rush days stayed there and did not continue the extremely arduous route up the mountains. They interviewed a few miners returning from the Klondike, but generally they manufactured their stories and sent them back to the lower 48. In Liarsville, we were entertained by an outdoor show that was quite amusing, and we panned for gold, each of us getting a few flakes.
Martha gets "excited" over about 2 cents worth of gold
Actually, when I thought about what “Liarsville” was commemorating, I became angry, as the journalists’ deception probably led to many broken dreams and even lost lives, possibly including even that of my great-grandfather. Hardly a laughing matter!
On the morning of August 3, we disembarked in Juneau, the capital of Alaska. By the way, “ju know the capital of Alaska? No, ju know?” (a dumb joke, I am quite aware.) It was drizzly that morning, the only example of even questionable weather we encountered on the trip. Martha, Hal, Claudia, and I opted for a bus ride to Mendenhall Glacier, about 13 miles out of town. The glacier is about 1 ½ miles wide and 30+ miles long. Because of global warming, however, it is losing a considerable amount of its mass continually. In the visitors’ center, we were informed that about 30 years ago, the glacier extended to that particular point of the visitors’ center, but now it is about ¼ of a mile away. That is a sad and frightening thought! The bay in front of the glacier was filled with small icebergs that were filled with a beautiful, transparent, light-blue color.
Claudia in front of Juneau's Mendenhall Glacier
We returned to Juneau and decided to “walk the town.” The two ladies, of course, stopped at at least every other shop, and so Hal and I decided to proceed ahead to the famous (or “infamous”) Red Dog Saloon. What a kick that place is! With its sawdust floor and its piano player (a total character!), I felt as if we were stepping back into the Old West days. Claudia and I then went alone to the city museum to do a little family research. My dad was born in Douglas (across the bridge from Juneau) in 1904, Aunt Tat was born in Juneau in 1909, and their mother, “Lizzy” McKanna Willis, was the postmistress of Douglas at the turn of the century. In the archives at the state building, I was able to locate four family references in “The Douglas Island News,” a weekly newspaper: the announcement of the engagement of Elizabeth McKanna to Robert J. Willis, including who was present at the announcement and what was served; the announcement of my dad’s birth, another of his christening, and an announcement of Katherine’s (Tat’s) birth. Back in the city museum, we found a picture of about 100 individual photos of Pioneers of Alaska (1887-1907), and in the top row were my great-grandmother, Mrs. Katherine A. McKanna (whom Aunt Tat has always referred to as Grandma McKanna), and four of her children - my grandmother, Lizzy Willis, and her three brothers, E. J. McKanna, P. F. McKanna, and James A. McKanna, three of my great-uncles. It was quite a thrill to see pictures of five relatives, four of whom I had never even met (E.J., or Emmett, lived in Yakima when I was a young boy).
Five of Jim's relatives in the top row
But what happened next was unbelievable! As Claudia and I were starting to leave the museum, the lady at the desk asked us to sign the guest book. As I was preparing to sign, my jaw dropped as I saw that the last name above mine was that of Elizabeth Willis! My first thought was that someone was playing a joke on me, my next thought was that my grandmother, who died before I was born, was “checking up” on me, and my third thought was that this was a coincidence befitting Ripley’s Believe It Or Not! I noticed that next to Elizabeth Willis’ name was “Tallahassee, Florida.” I thus assumed that she was probably on one of the four ships docked at Juneau that day. On our return to the ship, I went to the office on the third deck to ask if there was an Elizabeth Willis on board, and there was! The clerk dialed her room, handed me the phone, and I shared the story with her. Elizabeth, Claudia, and I later met on board, and, of course, we were not related. She was part of a group of Florida lawyers making the cruise, having a few short seminars aboard, and, of course, thus writing off the trip. That whole experience reminded me of the show, “The Twilight Zone”!
The morning of August 4 found us anchored in a beautiful bay outside the village of Hoonah in an area called Icy Strait Point. This is a new stop on the Celebrity Cruise tour, but I am glad they have added it. We boarded a tender, a “small” boat that can carry up to 150 passengers, for the short ride to the dock at Hoonah.
Note the size of the tenders, which hold 150 people, compared to the ship
I left earlier in the morning than my three fellow-travelers because I was scheduled to go salmon fishing. The captain of the fishing boat, a full-blooded Tlingit Indian, his young aide (an “at risk” youth whom he was mentoring), and we four fishermen went to an area about three miles distant where we all limited (three fish) on salmon. I caught two pink salmon and one silver, all of which I had smoked and shipped back home. By the way, the captain wanted to make sure that one pole wasn’t catching all the fish, so we watched all four poles and took turns as a fish struck. The person before me (the only one of us to lose a fish, and he lost at least three) had a small (6-7 pound pink) on the line and lost it right at the boat. Thus, he was still the one to catch the next fish, and, wouldn’t you know it, the next fish was a 20+ pound King! That should have been my fish, dangit!
While I fished, Claudia, Martha, and Hal went to the Native Heritage Center Theater for a dance ceremony by the local Tlingit Dancers, an amateur group in native costumes. Through interpretive song and dance, they told the story of their culture, emphasizing the role of the Eagle and the Raven. Claudia loved the experience.
Tlingit Dancers at Hoonah
One of the most stunning sights I’ve ever seen greeted us the next morning. Our massive ship entered a bay that ended with the Hubbard Glacier, a glacier more than six miles wide and considerably taller than our twelve-story ship! The bay was filled with icebergs (again, not particularly large), and every so often we would hear a roar reminiscent of a dynamite blast, and we would then see a section of the glacier fall into the bay, a phenomenon called “calving.” When the ice hit the water, it would, of course, create quite a wave. Considering that these chunks were the size of houses falling about 20 stories, the roar is quite understandable. Some of the icebergs were dotted with seals – also quite a sight!
The Hubbard Glacier
Our cruise ended the next morning, August 6, in Seward, and we then boarded a luxury bus for the approximate 2 ½ hour ride to Anchorage along one of the most scenic highways in America. On the ride, we passed through a town of about 40 people named Moose Pass. Our tour guide for the rest of the trip, Nicole, a young, vibrant woman of about 25, told us that at one time, an oil company considered putting a service station there but decided against it, as they chose to reject the title of “Moose Pass Gas.”
We had about an hour or so in downtown Anchorage until we had to leave for the airport for our flight to Fairbanks, so “we four” went to a local art gallery and then to lunch at the Snow Goose Restaurant, where we thoroughly enjoyed the best halibut I have ever tasted! Anchorage, by the way, is the largest city in Alaska (about 240,000). Fairbanks and Juneau are second and third in size, with both having a population of around 40,000. In fact, there are only about 600,000 Alaskans, even though it is twice the size of Texas! If the weather in Alaska were always like the weather we enjoyed, the population would be about 600,000,000!
The flight to Fairbanks was short, about an hour or so. The highlight was when we saw Mt. McKinley (I will from now on refer to it as Mt. Denali, an Indian name meaning “The Tall One” because, as someone told us, why name a mountain after a second-hand politician who never even visited the state!). Even the Alaska Airlines pilot was so excited by how clear the view was that he circled the mountain and tipped the plane so both sides could get equal views. It was spectacular! Mount Denali is the tallest mountain in North America, 20,390 feet (I think), but it has the highest vertical rise of any mountain on Earth – about 16,000 feet. It also is extremely broad. What a sight it was!
When we got off the plane in Fairbanks, we were met by an unexpected surprise. The temperature was about 85 degrees – in Alaska, no less! We came to learn that the temperature in Fairbanks ranges from the mid 90’s to around 60 below zero. I’d hate to have to pay for utility bills if we lived there!
At the airport, Nicole and her entourage of about 45 travelers were met by Will, the bus driver for the rest of our Alaskan stay. He drove us to the University of Alaska, Fairbanks, where we spent an hour (too short a time) in the university museum, an extremely fascinating place. The exhibits were very informative and very well put together. We then had lunch at the Fudge Factory in downtown Fairbanks, a rather unimpressive city. One interesting detail – all the local cars have extension cords sticking out of the front grill. When they park at the university or downtown, for that matter, they plug into electric outlets to keep their radiators from freezing and their engine blocks from being destroyed.
Our next stop was Pikes Waterfront Lodge on the outskirts of Fairbanks. After a pleasant dinner on the outdoor deck of the restaurant next door, overlooking the Chena River, we walked to a nearby tent and saw a short video on Susan Butcher, a four time winner of the Iditarod, the 1,036 mile yearly dog race starting near Wasilla and ending near Nome. The race, unbelievably, is covered in about ten days! Susan won in 1986, 1987, 1988, and 1990. She then married one of her rival mushers, David Monson, and the two of them train dogs but no longer race. One interesting story from the video – before her string of victories, one year she was racing along when she encountered a bull moose that attacked her team, killing two and severely injuring 13 of her dogs. Of course, that ended her race.
Next to the video tent was a second tent with memorabilia about the Iditarod. There was even a handful of young Alaskan Huskies there, dogs in training for upcoming races. They were very attractive and friendly mutts!
On August 7, we got aboard a sternwheeler paddleboat for a ride down the Chena River.
Sternwheeler on the Chena River
To be honest, I wasn’t too excited about the trip and thought it would be rather boring. Boy, was I wrong! Highlights of the trip included watching a bush pilot land and take off on a short field of grass alongside the river, the many beautiful homes along the river, including one where Ronald and Nancy Reagan stayed while greeting the Pope and especially the stop at Susan Butcher’s kennel. From shore (with a microphone), she talked about her dogs and even put on an incredible athletic display for us. She had the rope halters, with places for about ten dogs, attached to a tractor with its brakes on. As she brought individual dogs out to place them in position with the halters, the dogs started quite a racket that seemed to say, “take me; take me.” After the dogs were haltered, they would jump up and forward as if to say, “let’s go!” Susan then got on the tractor, released the brake, yelled some command, and those dogs took off at breakneck speed. We then watched her run them around a lake and back to the starting point. It was some sight, believe me!
Susan Butcher, four time Iditarod winner at her kennel
A few miles downriver, the Chena emptied into the Tanana River, a glacial river. Where the two rivers met was most interesting. The Chena is crystal clear, while the Tanana is filled with silt from the glacier and is milky (or almost muddy white) in color. Where they met was a dramatic line showing the difference.
The clear Chena River meets the glacial Tanana River
A short distance down the Tanana, we stopped at a village used by the Athabascan Indians. We went ashore and visited four sites: a display of furs and lodges, an area with Alaskan Huskies and a short seminar on the dogs, an area with a handful of caribou (reindeer), and a final area with a display of native clothing.
A Caribou at Chena Village
A young Athabascan woman wearing a tribal coat
At the end of the river cruise, we proceeded by bus to the town of Denali. Shortly after leaving Fairbanks, we stopped briefly at a point of the Alaskan pipeline. En route to Denali, Nicole pointed out the perma-frost forests. Part of the soil is permanently frozen, so the trees’ roots can only go down a short distance, and thus they can’t grow very tall. It was strange to see such midget forests. Also en route, we crossed a bridge into a small town whose name I can’t recall. Every year, there is a lottery as to when the river under the bridge unfreezes. At that point, a pole in the river breaks loose and sets off an alarm. The lottery ticket, costing $2, which is closest to the exact second, wins the pool, and last year’s pool was over $600,000.
Claudia and the Alaskan pipeline
In late afternoon, we entered the town of Denali and proceeded to the Grande Denali Lodge, high on the mountain above town and with a spectacular vista.
The Grande Denali Lodge, high above the town of Denali
After checking in, the four of us went to town for what was termed a “Cabin Nite Dinner.” The fare included barbecued ribs, salmon, corn, bread, and beans, mixed with a music/drama presentation given by our waiters and waitresses. It was a little melodramatic but fun. The performance included audience participation, and Claudia was singled out at least twice for such. When the dinner ended, and we went outside to return to the lodge, we were amazed that it was still daylight even though it was past 11:00 p.m.!
Fairly early in the morning of August 8, we boarded a school-type bus for a trip into the spectacular Denali National Park. Along the road, we stopped at a foresters’ cabin, saw a bull moose, weighing approximately a ton, and in the hills above, we saw Dall sheep and caribou.
A bull moose as seen from our tour bus window
At our turn-around point, an Athabascan woman with an American name of Shirley told us about her people’s culture and traditions. She was beautiful, graceful, deeply spiritual, and filled with gentle strength. The backdrop to her presentation was Mt. Denali in all its splendor. Also, at that spot, we saw a group of ptarmigans, Alaska’s state bird, and I even saw an arctic hare. The park, by the way, covers over six million acres, larger than some of the smaller American states. The driver of our bus, Brian Gross, was a young man who was very passionate about the park and very well versed in its geology, zoology, and “plant” and “tree” ology. By the way, before her ceremonial dance, Shirley invited Brian to join in and then presented him with a scarf she uses in the dance, and he was visibly moved by that.
We were then dropped off at the Denali train station for our train ride to Talkeetna. Will drove our bus, with all our luggage, passenger less ahead of us.
Relaxing on the train
The train ride, along with the river cruise on the Chena River, were two very unexpected and very pleasant extras of the vacation. Celebrity Tours had two cars of its own on the train, and we definitely traveled in style through some very spectacular scenery. Our car had a glass ceiling, a bar, and on the floor below, a dining car, where we had a lunch that rivaled the meals on board the Summit.
Around dinner time, we arrived in Talkeetna, probably the funkiest town I have even seen. About three blocks long, it had a definite Bohemian feel.
In the funky town of Talkeetna
A mile or so outside of town was our hotel, Talkeetna Lodge. What a beautiful place and setting! We had dinner that night on the back deck of the lodge, with Mt. Denali clear as could be in the distance. We had been told that the chance of seeing the mountain was 5%, and there it was in all its glory. How fortunate we were! The lodge was so wonderful that I was curious about the cost of staying there. I learned that a room with the view of the mountain was $360 per night, while a non mountain-view room was $260. I’m glad the price was included in our overall package, but I would definitely say it is worth it.
Early the next morning, I took off on my second fishing adventure. Nine of us (two families of four and yours truly) went by speed boat with two guides about six or seven miles up the milky, glacial Talkeetna River. When we reached the confluence of the Talkeetna and Clear Creek, there were so many anglers there that our guides chose to go another quarter mile or so upstream, where we went ashore, hiked across an island, and fished in an isolated, magnificently picturesque spot on Clear Creek. We fished from the bank with spinners, and even though it was only about 20 yards wide at the spot, the creek was teeming with salmon. I caught the most among the group – 15 salmon, including three silvers (Coho), six pinks (Humpbacks or Humpies), and six Chum (Dog Salmon). Our guides told us to only keep silvers and reds (Sockeye). Among the nine of us, there were three silvers and one red caught, and so I caught three of the four keepers. I gave one of my three silvers to the family that was skunked. I have never had a fishing experience to even remotely rival that one!
When we arrived back in town, I met up with Claudia and the Eddlemans, who had arranged with a woman named Heidi to smoke and mail home the fish they apparently assumed I would catch. The four of us are sharing the salmon, and we will probably use much of it as gifts.
By midafternoon, we were back on the train for the two-three hour ride to Anchorage. Though not as spectacular as the first leg of the train ride, it was still very beautiful. Along the way, we passed through Wasilla (“all I saw” backwards), the usual starting point of the Iditarod, and we had a scrumptious prime rib dinner in the dining car.
That night, we stayed at the Anchorage Marriott, and Tuesday morning, August 10, we began our last day in Alaska with a breakfast at the hotel. We then walked to the Alaska Art and History Museum in the heart of town. It was a first-class museum, with wonderful native art.
An Athabascan mask in Anchorage's Art and History Museum
Martha and Hal had to leave us early as they had a 2:00 transfer time to the airport, while we had an additional two hours before our departure. And so, Claudia and I “hit” a few shops and returned to the Snow Goose Restaurant for lunch. This time, I opted for the clams, which rivaled the halibut, and Claudia had some wonderful fish tacos. One point about Anchorage that has to be made – there were flowers everywhere downtown, and they were extremely vibrant in their colors. I guess the long summer days are the reason for that.
As it turned out, we were the only passengers on the 4:00 bus to the airport. Our driver was a 26 year old first-year teacher who graduated from South Dakota State, where he played basketball. We quizzed him about his job, as we are going to try to talk Kenon into getting such a job in the upcoming summers.
On our flight from Anchorage to Seattle, we sat next to a very large teenager, an Alaskan Samoan who was the defensive high school football player of the year in Alaska. His name is Junior Aumavae (spelling is questionable here), and he was offered half scholarships to Colorado, Oregon, Oregon State, and USC, among others. He comes from a very poor family of 13 kids, and so he chose instead a full-ride to Western Washington State College in Bellingham. Among other D2 schools, they play UC Davis, and he said he’d send us tickets. He was fun, cocky, and quite naïve. It will be fun to try to follow his football career.
As it turned out, our United flight from Seattle to San Francisco was overbooked, and Claudia and I chose to spend two more hours at the Seattle airport in exchange for two free flights to anywhere in the lower 48 to be booked in the next year. That was probably worth about $200/hour for both of us. Also, we were rewarded with first-class seats on the subsequent flight. And thus ended our marvelous trip North to Alaska.
