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Get On With It

And on the last day we went to Victoria...blah...blah...blah

We've been home from our Alaskan vacation for more than a month now, and the memories of our adventures are melting faster than the glaciers. Since our return, we've been working hard at our respective offices; I've been ignoring my thesis while watching my self-imposed deadline tick away; we've been to a few parties, including the 1st birthday of an impossibly cute nephew; and we went to a very intimate Howard Jones concert.

I've been to more concerts than I can possibly remember, from ginormous events at Shea Stadium to summertime waterfront shows at Jones Beach to talent-packed line-ups at Radio City and other arenas. But I have never been one of fewer than 100 people at the concert of a well-known artist.

If you don't think you know who Howard Jones is, you probably avoided the radio in the 80s. I've always liked Howard Jones; apparently so much so that I effortlessly sang along with nearly every song. Sometimes even in tune.

Seeing Howard at a keyboard with a guitar accompanist from just 15 feet away was like having a private show in someone's living room, and like the director's commentary of a favorite film, Howard talked about the inspiration behind many songs and the memorable moments attached to each one.

It was one of those spontaneous midweek experiences that catch us by surprise when they take us beyond our expectations.

Catch me if you can in Ketchikan

Okay, sorry for the hokey title but I just cracked myself up. Hopefully it will amuse some of our visitors. Actually, this day was one we had all been anxiously awaiting with pure unadulterated excitement. After my death defying feats of rock climbing and repelling ;-) I was feeling pretty sure that this wouldn't have the same "fear factor" component as my Skagway excursion. However, it was a bit different for some members of our group.

The bus was filled and we were in amazement at the "advanced maturity" of some of the participants. If I were to feel any pangs of fear I sure as heck wasn't about to let anyone know, not if "they" could do it. Well, our being impressed was quickly deflated when the driver announced that the first stop (first stop?) would be for the zipline excursion group. The remaining bus riders would be heading for the very mild mannered wilderness safari hike. Ah ha! THAT explained everything. As we exited, those left behind waved with bewildered looks on their faces as if to say, "Why? Why would you intentionally cascade 140 feet above the forrest floor attached to two small cables by nothing more than a harness?" I did, however, appreciate the blessing by a little old lady from Pasadena in the back seat.

From here we had to load into this very cool all-terrain vehicle, the likes of which I had never seen before. The good news was there were plenty of window seats, all wide open, providing plenty of fresh air. The bad news was every seat was a window seat, all wide open and if we flipped over we would all be ejected into the fresh air through these very same windows. Not to worry, we made it to our destination at the top unscathed.

After we geared up we each made a 20 foot practice run 10 feet above the ground. Piece of cake. We were all ready to roll. I zipped out over the forrest first. Exhilarating! No fear, just fun! After I landed on the platform I looked back and realized that we were a man down. One of the wiser of our elite troop had made the prudent decision to opt-out of the day's event. It happens... there's a message sent from the brain to the body and it's screaming "What, are you crazy? Abort!"

Here's what it looked like as we moved from platform to platform at 20-30 mph over 7 different ziplines...




















And 3 very long aerial bridges...



















The views were amazing as we looked out over the Tongass National Forrest, searching for bear feeding on salmon that made the long journey upstream, more four-legged woodsy wildlife creatures and a variety of feathered friends soaring above us.














At the end the day, after we all relinquished our gear (if I had more time I definitely would have gone again!), each member of our group was awarded a medal for completing the expedition. Becky & Stef should have each received a second one for their amazing feat of courage! What a thrill for all of us to do it together. It was an incredible experience in a beautiful location making for yet another once-in-a-lifetime Alaskan memory. Priceless.

Glacier Bay

This cruise had a great itinerary. We left Seattle late Sunday and Monday was a full day at sea, allowing us ample time to get acquainted with the boat. The ship has lots of activities so you are never bored at sea, and we wound up playing Wii tennis on a giant movie theater-sized screen.

Thursday was the second of our two sea days for the vacation but we spent the majority of it on-deck absorbing the amazing vistas of Glacier Bay National Park. It was breathtakingly beautiful with all-encompassing mountain ranges, peaks lightly shrouded in clouds, crystal white snow, slatey grey rocks and burnished brown.

The thing that I found most surprising during this trip was that Glacier Bay didn't meet my expectations. I thought we would cruise down this shiny waterway, crystalline white and turquoise blue mountainous glaciers flanking both sides of the boat, but instead, we saw mostly brown, green and grey. Again, this was one of the times when you have no concept of how big everything is that you are seeing -- only how small we all are.

The end of the waterway put us in front of Margerie Glacier, where I felt like we were this ghoulish audience waiting for her to calve. While it would have been astounding to witness this natural phenomenon, I think it would have been accompanied by sadness for me. The glaciers' longevity and fragility bring a sense of personification to these ice structures and a significant break would seem too personal, too severe. Like watching a living thing withstand a traumatic event.

Tomorrow we are ziplining over the rainforests in Ketchikan, one of the highlights of the trip for us thrill-seekers!

Skagway

Dan left early for her horseback riding, canoeing, rock climbing and rappelling excursions, while I opted to do the Glacier Point wilderness safari with Howie, Stef, Becky (who took these great photos), John and Lenny. Before we left for our trip, I took a walk by myself through Skagway (or, at least, the inauthentic part of the town where they sell T-shirts to tourists). It was another bright, sunlit day where only two basic layers were needed to stay warm.

The tour began by catamaran through Lynn Canal. While "canal" would suggest that this body of water was man-made, it is actually the deepest fjord in North America. The guide suggested that the name was originally Lynn Channel but became bastardized over time. Interestingly, we saw a distinct line of demarcation in the water as it changed from a clear bottle green to a murky brownish black. The transformation has to do with water run-off from the glaciers and tides. We saw a couple of waterfalls that were cool too.


After about 45 minutes on the boat, we arrived at Glacier Point (population: 11), got suited up with coats, boots and life vests and walked through the rain forest to the canoe. We weren't paddling long before we saw Davidson Glacier.

Though we couldn't leave the canoe to walk on the glacier, we got quite close and navigated around the moraines, where you could see the sparkling turquoise beneath the silt.


The return trip to the boat was uneventful, and I looked forward to reuniting with the rest of the family over dinner and hearing about Dan's big adventures.

Skagway Excursion #2: Rock climbing and Rapelling

Knowing I would have a good part of the day in front of me when I returned from the Yukon, I planned a second excursion for the day. Well, maybe not quite as much time as I thought cuz I missed the bus by 7 minutes. The NCL rep at the excursions booth immediately got on her walkie-talkie and tried to get them to come back for me. Not happening. Instead, they sent a van for me! And on the way to our destination we swung by the office and picked up another guide.

I missed the orientation talk but quickly got outfitted with my equipment and safety gear. What it lacked in style it made up for in function. The rock wall loomed in front and above me...
After the first two in our group went there was a volunteer stall so I jumped at the chance to go. Until I was face to face with the wall.

Then the nerves hit. Holy cr@p! I was scared. I told my guide and he asked what was I scared of. I realized I didn't know exactly. He told me to trust him, trust the equipment. That was good enough for me and away I went. The higher I got, the better I felt. I had the beginner and intermediate walls mastered.

Now it was time to repell. I trekked to the top of the trail and got harnassed up, stepped over the rope and approached the ledge. (Repeat of conversation I had with guide below.) Close to the same response, with one addition "just blank out your mind for 10 seconds." I leaned back 90 degrees, 100 feet in the air and took that first step back. From there it was a breeze. I was bouncing off the wall, returning momentarily, repeating it over and over 'til I (very quickly) reached terra ferma.

As I heard more than once that day, "It's all good." It sure was.

Skagway Excursion #1: Paddle and Saddle, part II

Our group met up with our wranglers, a gal who was a seasoned competitive rider with a killer Stetson and her husband, and donned our helmets [Helmets?! I wasn't about to get on a bike, I was getting on a horse! What the heck was this about?] to reduce risk and liability. Even in the Yukon they're concerned about litigation. Hrmph! My trusty steed, Ice, was the youngest of the fold with limited training, which was fine by me. Afterall, me and my childhood best friend had jumped a fence when we were kids and I hopped up on a horse grazing in a field and rode it bareback... until I got bucked off that is (there's a reason I told you that story). Anyway, we all saddled up and headed for the trail.
It is truly God's country up there. The foliage was already ablaze as we rode on this beautiful sunny afternoon.


Everyone was enjoying the sweet serenade of John Denver songs by our gal wrangler. It was so majestic, so tranquil... until the clown (I say that in an endearing tone, I swear), in front of me gently tumbled to the ground when his horse stumbled and then reared up. Not such a big deal if it's just the two of you but not so good on a precarious part of the trail with 13 other now-nervous horses to contend with. The wrangler from the back came bustling forward, threw me his reigns, quickly dismounted and ran to the aid of the fallen rider, Bob. In the meantime I'm trying to keep the elderly woman behind me calm, and her horse, as well as my own. It added an exciting dimension to the ride! I can assure you Bob was none too keen about the final 20 minutes back to the lodge. I, however, was soon lost once again in the splendor of our surroundings. Happily snapping away, capturing the best the day had to offer from horseback.

A perfect time and place for reflection. This rugged and beautiful landscape reminded me of my Dad.



I was so grateful to add this adventure to my cache of life experiences. "Stay in the moment, live for today."

Here's one last pic, taken on the ride back to Skagway.

Skagway Excursion #1: Paddle and Saddle, part I

This was the day I had been waiting for (ok, all the others were great too but this one was particularly exciting). I would forgo my now early morning ritual of stretching and aerobics classes. Instead I made a b-line for the Garden Cafe for a(nother) hardy breakfast. Then I dashed off to meet my excursion mates at the end of the pier @ 7:20am. We were all Yukon Ho! bound, where we would paddle on a prestine lake in canoes and explore the countryside on horseback. It was approximately an hour and a half drive, every minute beautiful and thoroughly enjoyable.
First, let me say that we had an AMAZING guide, Paul, who was not only a comedian but also very well informed about the region we were traveling through. He provided in-depth background about the gold rush, it's main players and towns, great stories of exhilarating success but more often devastating loss. He did a number of voices including Jimmy Stewart, bits from Saturday Night Live episodes (back from the good 'ol days) and told us wonderful personal tales the whole way there and back.

Our entourage was so large we split into two groups, my group would be the first to paddle. I had made fast friends with Ann Marie and Mike from (of all places) Long Island during our ride to the lodge. Oh my gosh, they are two of the nicest people on the planet!


Since I was without a partner I was paired up with our guide, Mike, who has been an Alaskan resident for more than 30 years. I felt pretty fortunate because I learned a lot and got to hear more up-close and personal stories. He took us to get our gear together and we made the short trek to the lake. Mike taught us all about the indigenous trees, shrubs, berries and habits of the local wildlife (you'd be amazed at what bears will eat when they're hungry!)
We quickly reached the canoe launch and were just awestruck by the prestine beauty of the still waters, colorful foliage and towering mountains. Our paddle would last 75 minutes (I wished it could have been MUCH longer) before we had to wrap it up so we'd be on-time for a homemade lunch (clocks jump ahead when you cross over from Alaska into the Yukon). We learned that Fritzy (aided by her husband, whose name escapes me) was right out of the Seinfeld "soup" episode and so we followed our guide and his instructions to the "t" as no one wanted to be eliminated from line, especially before she dished out her famous and FABULOUS homemade pie offerings. After a brief break we were off to part II of our excursion. Next: The Corral.

Juneau

The day started with a 9/11 memorial service on the ship, led by a rabbi who would be performing Rosh Hashanah services later in the week. Six years later, I can still feel all the emotions of that morning: the anxiety of tracking down Howie and friends; tremendous grief for the victims and families; and the pain of losing the buildings that were at the centerpiece of a treasured childhood memory.

Lots of firsts were scheduled for today: first steps on Alaskan soil, first excursion, first time kayaking together in a long while. We layered appropriately and boarded the bus to North Douglas Island where we would paddle Auke Bay and see Mendenhall Glacier. Sitting in the kayak and paddling reminded me of how much I missed being out on the water like this and it was great to do something familiar in a brand new setting.

In the second seat of the tandem boat, I was charged with working the rudder via foot pedals, paddling, and peering around Dan's back to navigate while she snapped shots of eagles, harbor seals and scouted for other wildlife. Needless to say, I was unaccustomed to all this work when I expected to pretend-paddle and relax in the back seat.

In Alaska, eagles were as ubiquitous as pigeons in Central Park and we even had one who gave us an extended sitting for a close-up photo shoot. Heron were also plentiful, as were other water fowl that only Dan and her Sibley's bird book could identify.

Mendenhall Glacier rose majestically before us, against a brilliant blue backdrop and bright Alaskan sun. In Alaska, all sense of scale is lost. There was no way to judge distance, size, width or height, and my brother often used his urban yardstick ("Is that taller than the Empire State Building?") as a measuring tool. I had no way of knowing how many miles away we were or how many feet high the glaciers actually loomed. At least the Grand Canyon confirmed how insignificant we are; the glaciers make us guess.