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.