Alaska, 2006
(or Northern Exposure)
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June 20, 2006 (Tuesday)
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The ship docked in Ketchikan at 6:41 Alaska Daylight Time, which is an hour earlier than Pacific Time. Helene and I received our 7:00 wakeup call and got ready for breakfast. We met Dan and June in the Horizon Cafe for another round of the breakfast buffet (which by day three is looking less appetizing), then went topside to get a shot or two of Ketchikan. In the distance, another cruise ship practiced lifeboat drills in the harbor.
Ketchikan is Alaska's fourth-largest city, perched on Revillagigedo Island between the mountains and the sea. The city originated as a summer Tlingit fishing camp situated to take advantage of the five different salmon species that spawn nearby every year. The name derives from Kitchsk-kim, which translates from Tlingit as "Kitchsk's Stream." As with many areas in this region of Alaska, the discovery of gold and other minerals meant boom times for the town at the turn of the 20th century. Ketchikan developed into a supply center for the area's mines, and fishing and timber industries soon followed. Ketchikan became known as the "Salmon Capital of the World" during the 1930s. Ketchikan now is know as the "First City" or "Gateway to Alaska" due to its position as the first port of call for many liners cruising the Inside Passage. The town boasts excellent sport fishing and nearby access to the Misty Fjords National Monument.
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We finished breakfast and gathered our things to see a bit of Ketchikan before the snorkeling tour was due to pick us up. We dismbarked at 9:15 and entered the city. The dock was already humming with activity, and the row of shops along the street made it easy to see the truth in the naturalist's statement that tourism was the second-largest industry in Ketchikan after timber. The volume of jewelry stores here is amazing. Every other store is a jeweler; in one spot I saw at least five in a row. And apparently, they all have roughly four to five months in which to make their money (I'm guessing these shops don't really benefit from the Christmas retail season). Helene bought a pendent in a shop called Jade, where we learned that Alaska is currently supplying a hefty percentage of the world's jade market and that there's a veritable mountain of jade on Seward peninsula. We also got a great shot of one of the local totem poles.
We needed to get back to the dock to catch our bus, which we did by 10:20. We were met by Amy, one of the tour guides, and driven by Doug, who may or may not have been smoking something this morning already. There were about 18 of us on the excursion altogether. We headed southeast out of town toward the diving shop to get fitted for our equipment before heading to Mountain Point, the southern cape of Revillagigedo. We were joined at the shop by Abbie, a diver from New Orleans who spoke like a California surfer. Every sentence is punctuated with "cool" instead of a period. Abbie gave us a brief orientation and then directed us to the dressing rooms to get into our wetsuits.
For those of you unfamiliar with the joy of neoprene, it's difficult to describe accurately. Think of putting on panty hose made of 1/4" rubber, and then imagine doing that on both your upper and lower body. It felt like I pulled rib muscles just getting into the body suit. You start to sweat the moment you're enclosed, and you lose at least a quarter of your flexibility due to the thick, rubbery fabric. It's also worth mentioning that you should really consider that last trip to the restroom before getting into it.
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Once all of us had suited up, we drove the rest of the way to the beachhead from which we'd be entering the water. Although Abbie said the water temperature would around 48 degrees, we were all ready for it after fifteen minutes in the suits. For some unfathomable reason, I had a shot taken of me in the suit for less-than-flattering posterity. We got our masks, snorkels, and fins; I opted for a 10-pound weight belt to help me get under the water. Then we hiked down to the beach, put on the gear, and got in.
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The water was great. The only place you really felt the cold was on your lips, and that didn't seem so bad. Abbie gave us some more guidelines and then led us out. I did feel a bit like a cork bobber on the water, even with the weight belt, and getting under the water and staying there was next to impossible. Virtually none of the underwater shots came out, because it's damned difficult to take a pitcure with one hand while flailing with every other limb in an attempt to keep yourself vertical and under the water. I did manage to snap a shot of Helene holding a sea urchin and one decent underwater shot of a starfish. The exertive photography combined with the effort of simply swimming from point to point was enough to tire me out after nearly an hour and a half. The experience, however, is one that I would recommend to anyone with an interest in water, wildlife, and something more than a tired bus tour to a rote script.
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Anyway, we got out of the water at around 1:00, and were back in Ketchikan before 1:30. Helene and I took a detour through the historic Creek Street section of town, where they've reconstructed the Ketchikan red light district from the early 1900s. The street is a boardwalk on pilings built along the banks of Ketchikan Creek. Of course, now Creek Street consists of shops and eateries, but back in the day, it housed mostly brothels such as Dolly's House, which now runs as a museum dedicated to Ketchikan's most celebrated hooker. It seems prostitution wasn't illegal in Akaska until 1953, and Dolly lived at 24 Creek Street from 1919 through 1974, passing away in 1975 at the age of 87. Apparently Dolly made quite an impression—her obituary made its way into every major West Coast newspaper.
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After Creek Street, we stopped in the local Pioneer Cafe for some lunch. I had a chicken strip sandwich with fries. Following that, we headed back to the terminal and went aboard the Sun Princess right before 3:00. With some time on hand, Helene and I rested in our stateroom and watched the last half of Pride and Prejudice while lazing around until the boat departed Ketchikan at 4:40 p.m. Like many of the other passengers, we decided to go topside and watch the ship depart. We both felt that Ketchikan had been a nice introduction to Alaska.
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Helene and I joined Joel and Cindi on the bow as the ship slipped her moorings.The Sun Princess steamed a northwesterly course from Ketchikan. Along the way, we passed Ketchikan International Airport on Gravina Island, across the Tongass Narrows from the town (the only access is via ferry); the waterway was full of traffic, including a barge and the Prince of Wales ferry. We finally found the entrance to the forward observation deck on Deck 10 as well (apparently we'd been trying the wrong side of the ship).
When we'd finished, the family made plans to meet up for dinner. Actually, Cindi and I were going to sample the grill and meet the rest of the family back at Verdi's, but the grill was shut down for cleaning. So the two of us ended up back at Verdi's and joining the family for the worst food service of the voyage. I won't name names; all I'll say is that I understand and appreciate the diversity of the crew, but on an American cruise, you would expect the English competency to be better than that demonstrated by our Hungarian waitress. At least the calzone was good, as was the Raspberry Fizz when it eventually arrived.
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We'd purposely eaten dinner early because the ships's naturalist was going to narrate a whale-watching session starting at 8:30, and we wanted to get a good spot on deck for viewing. We all left dinner for our staterooms to retrieve gear suitable for cold and damp weather and regrouped topside near the bow. The wind was gusting over the deck, and it started to rain. We did see a few spouts off to the northeast, but nothing near enough or picture-worthy other than the Guard Island lighthouse.
When the rain picked up, I led the way down to the Promenade Deck—or so I thought, until I realized that I was the only one there. After waiting around for the rest of the gang, I headed back to the stateroom in the absence of any better ideas. No sooner had I gotten inside than the phone rang; Helene and the rest had valiantly abandoned the elements—and me—for the Horizon Cafe and coffee. I went up to Deck 14 to join them. We stayed there until 10:15 p.m., when Helene, Cindi, Joel, and I decided to reconvene at the casino.
Helene left after betting and keeping $25 on her own. I wasn't doing nearly as well at that point, being down half of my $100 bankroll for the session.After coming back conservatively, I then commenced with what henceforth shall be called the "Green Chip Gambit." Illustrating the fact that you should never put a chip on the table that you're not prepared to part with, I got cocky and bet—and quickly lost—a $25 chip. Compounding the error, it was a sure double-down bet on an 11 versus a dealer showing six. I drew a three, or one of the worst cards possible in that situation. As I prayed for the dealer to bust, I watched him flop a four and then follow that with an ace to twist the blade as it went in. I don't remember much after that; it's mostly a blur of drawing bad cards and watching chips veritably fly off the table. I left $160 poorer and muttering to myself about greed and desperation. Eager to be done with the day, I retreated back to the cabin and tried to remember that at least I was still gambling on the house's dime.
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