Sitka

 

Was very much looking forward to seeing Sitka, the capital of Russian America, after reading James Michener’s Alaska. He told such an engaging story of Alexander Baranov, the real-life manager of the Russian-American fur trading company who came from Siberia to establish some sense of order amongst the Russian sea otter hunters, most of whom were convicts serving life sentences in one of the most formidable environments on Earth. Baranov, a business genius who turned the Company into a Pacific powerhouse, did not do so well by the Tlingit (KLIN-kit) natives. Eventually he took the prized hilltop on the island from them by force, naming it Castle Hill and building his rustic “castle” at the top with spectacular views of Mount Edgecumbe volcano on Kruzof Island across Sitka Sound.

We climbed Castle Hill, now just a paved hilltop, and looked out across the Sound, but views of Edgecumbe eluded us. Even on this sunny day, its head was in the only clouds to be seen.

As we departed Sitka by ship that evening, we happened to dine in the Italian restaurant in the aft end of the ship. As we rounded Kruzof Island and looked up from our antipasti and prosecco, there was the volcano peeking out from behind the clouds. Farewell, Sitka!

Mount Edgecumbe bidding us farewell

Salmon running!

 

It’s one thing to see a still photo of a stream full of salmon, but it’s something else to see them in motion. We were blown away with how full of fish the Taiya River was. And the water was so shallow that you wonder how they can swim through it. These salmon–pink salmon, also called humpies for the humps on their backs–were barely swimming, more like maintaining their positions in the stream without making any headway. As they approach the end of their life cycle, they can barely make their way to the lake or stream where they hatched to begin the next generation. They never really readjust to the fresh water after living in the Pacific Ocean for years. They stop eating and use what energy they have left to swim–or flop–upstream. Some of them were pretty ragged looking, and the males were already starting to challenge each other for dominance. Sea gulls, not strong enough to go after younger, more robust salmon, were taking advantage of their weakness by swooping down and pecking at them.

Salmon spawning is one of nature’s many interesting phenomena. There are so many people and wildlife in Alaska that depend on it. So exciting to witness it first hand.

Skagway: Gateway to the Klondike

bike ride through the Tongass Rainforest

The first Gold Rush in the Pacific Northwest was in the Klondike River area in Canada’s Yukon Territory in the late 19th century. Travel over land was mountainous and difficult so many hopeful gold miners attempted the route by sea to Skagway and then through the Chilkoot Pass of the Coast Mountains into Canada. Approaching the pass directly through Skagway was steep and arduous. The path through nearby Dyea, 15 miles away, was longer but not as steep, and horses could help carry supplies if they didn’t fall to their deaths off the narrow trails. Considering a traveler was required by Canadian law to bring a year’s worth of provisions with him or her (1000 lbs. of food!) before being allowed to cross the border, many chose the horse-capable route. Others chose the shorter path through Skagway; they were in a hurry to stake gold claims before they were all taken.

the Chilkoot Pass trail head

Dyea and Skagway were in fierce competition for the business miners brought until the Alaska Railroad decided to lay their track through Skagway. Dyea became a ghost town almost overnight. Today the rainforest has reclaimed Dyea, and we took a bike ride through it.

Facade of a real estate company in Dyea. Behind the false front would be a tent which served as the “building.”

 

The cemetery where those who didn’t survive the Dyea route were buried. Seventy-some lives were lost in a Palm Sunday (1898) avalanche. Others were often shot for stealing supplies.

 

The salmon (pink or humpy) were running in the Taiya River.

 

The Taiya River flowing out to sea.

The town of Skagway was, in itself, a disappointment. Now, with a population of just over 1000, it exists to support the cruise-line industry, including many high-end jewelry stores owned by the cruise lines. We couldn’t even find a place to get lunch in this Disney-esque town, so we went back to the ship.

downtown Skagway

driftwood facade

 

 

 

Mendenhall Glacier

Juneau

Once in Juneau, we boarded a bus for nearby Mendenhall Glacier, the “drive-up glacier” as it is called because you can get so close to it by car. We rafted down the Mendenhall River, the melt from the glacier that flows out to sea. At the closest point, we were probably two miles from the foot of the glacier.

A glacier can be differentiated from regular snow by its blue-green color, the result of densely packed ice. All colors of light are absorbed by glacial ice but only blue light can reflect back out, so that is the color we see when we look at a glacier or its icebergs.

The blue-green ice of the glacier appears to be a dam holding back water in the background. Look for the blue color to see where the glacier is.

Tracy Arm

Just before cruising into Juneau, the captain made a detour into Tracy Arm, a fjord over 30 miles long. It was absolutely stunning!

State #43

 

First port of call: Ketchikan, Alaska. We took a canoe trip, followed by a short nature hike, on Harriet Hunt Lake in the Tongass Rainforest. The Tongass is the largest national forest in the US. The rain held off during the paddle, and by the time we returned to the dock the sun had broken through the ever-present clouds. The guides were ecstatic; said they hadn’t seen the sun for over a month! Good omen?

One more state on my bucket list accomplished. Only seven more to go!

Cruise to Alaska

 

I’m not a fan of cruises, but I’ve been looking forward to this one for months. I cannot wait to witness the phenomenal beauty and amazing wildlife of Alaska, but the launch from the Port of Vancouver was spectacular in itself. We’ve had banner weather in Vancouver for ten days and, true to form, the sun shone on our departure.