The Inland Passage & Glacier Bay

(Note: This is part of my Big Trip 1996 retrospective travelogue. See
this
page for an introduction to it and links to all other posts)

Sunday, August 18, 1996 – As I write, we are heading away from the
crossroads of Tok, Alaska and moving toward Chitina. It’s raining off and on,
and our back window was covered in gunk within seconds after cleaning it at the
gas station.

I left off with us being in Prince Rupert, Canada, where we were to
catch a ferry through Alaska’s Inland passage. We did that the next day, Day
8 [August 12, 1996] of our trip.

Our ferry wasn’t until the afternoon, so we killed time exploring the town.
We drove out to the sea plane port but were disappointed to find the planes took
off just out of view. Then we drove up and down Prince Rupert’s main shopping
street looking for a place to eat. It doesn’t take long to drive, only about two
minutes. In fact, the night before, a souped-up car did that all night long. The
driver must pass for Prince Rupert’s version of a rebel.

We stumbled upon a place call
Cow Bay, down by
Prince Rupert’s fish packing plant. At last, a safe port. There was a little
cafe there that we ate at, then we went to a coffeehouse across the way for
drinks and peanut butter cheesecake. It was nice to just sit in the coffeehouse
and watch the people come in and talk. There were three young women who seemed
to run the place, and they seemed to know everyone who came in.

It’s easy to get caught up with the things to see when traveling, but it’s
often the experiences that you savor more and often don’t expect. I remember
walking with Tom along the coast of a remote Irish town, just happy to be out
walking to no where in particular. The coffeehouse was the same. It was just
nice to sit and experience the energy of the place, the people coming and going,
exchanging greetings and news and smiles.

Our trusty companion – the small, red Ford Festiva

Finally, it was ferry time. We lined up on the road in the appropriate lane
and waited. It was about two hours before we moved, and in the meantime,
everyone was getting out of their cars and talking to each other. I succumbed to
the enthusiasm and got out to chat, but Lorna’s British reserve let her resist
such idle friendliness. The guy in front of us demonstrated how his car could
switch from kilometres to miles with a push of the button, but I got the last
laugh when we compared gas mileage. Apparently, his big car doesn’t get 40 to 50
miles per gallon.

Tucked away for the trip.

Getting loaded on the ferry was pretty straight forward. We just drove on and
parked as directed. I had to take all of our propane and our gas can and store
it in the ship’s paint locker. Then we went upstairs and got the keys to our
cabin.

The cabin was very small, two bunk beds and a small bathroom. Despite the
small size, we were quite happy. We dumped our bags, then had a good explore of
the ship. It had a huge observation area at the bow, with aircraft-style seats
for sitting and watching wildlife. We settled in to hear a nature talk from the
US Forest Service naturalist that rides on each of the state ferries.

Unfortunately, our naturalist had a degree in hospitality, not biology, and
she was about the worst person I’ve ever seen in a ranger uniform. We nicknamed
her "Clueless" for her inability to answer any question properly.

Tired, we crashed, slightly worried about what would happen if the ship were
to sink while we were sleeping. I assured Lorna that we’d probably drown before
the cold water froze us to death. That eased her mind, and we fell right to
sleep.

Interact with this map
here.

Day 9 [August 13, 1996] came, and we were up and into the observation
lounge to watch wildlife. We waited and waited, but little came. Whales, otters,
eagles and more were supposed to appear. Instead, we saw lots of water.

Around noon, we stopped at the town of
Wrangell. The purpose of the state ferry system, the
Alaska Marine Highway, is to link
all these little coastal towns like Wrangell. Off the ship we went, and at last,
we’d arrived in Alaska.

A street in Wrangell

It was a little anticlimactic. After all, Wrangell was a tiny little town on
the coast, so it didn’t have the feel of wide open spaces that being in Alaska
was supposed to bring. We took a walk along the main street, and that killed
about 10 minutes. Then it was back to the ferry, which only stays in port for
about an hour while people, cars and supplies get on and off.

Wrangell Narrows

The excitement level was high
when we returned to the observation lounge. Clueless had returned, and she was
describing the Wrangell Narrows, through which we were about to pass. At last,
we’d see bears wandering on shore and all sorts of other wildlife, because the
coast would be so close to the ship. The Narrows are also very shallow,
requiring the ship to go through only on a rising tide.

We did see wildlife, at last, a bald eagle flying from shore to shore. We
also got to watch a former Coast Guardsman feel uncomfortable as Clueless pulled
him from the group and forced him to describe the different buoys that we were
seeing.

At the end of the narrows was Petersburg. I can’t tell much about the town,
because we didn’t have time to walk into it. Instead, practically the entire
ship got off, walked about 15 minutes away from the port, then turned and walked
back to get on before it left.

Back to the observation lounge, at least for Lorna. I’d had enough of
watching for mythical wildlife, once they announced "The Arrival" would be
playing in the theatre. Away I went to watch the science fiction film, which was
quite good.

Orcas

As I planned, the wildlife appeared once the movie had ended. We saw numerous
orca whales spouting and swimming off either side of the ship. Everyone was
running around shooting photos and looking through binoculars.

After having dinner, we settled in to watch the evening’s film selection,
"Sense and Sensibility." Then we were docking in Juneau, and it was time to find
our campsite for the evening.

It was very dark, because we got in at about 11pm. We drove to a nearby
coastal campground, but it was all full. That meant we had to go to a campground
near Mendenhall Glacier, a few miles from the ferry port. Along the way, we
passed one of the University of Alaska’s campuses–which led to all sorts of
fears for Lorna.

You see, Clueless, who lives in Juneau, had described how she’d seen a bear
once when walking toward the university. This, combined with the darkness of the
campground, convinced Lorna that bears were lurking everywhere, just waiting to
pounce. For her, we were finally in the wilds of Alaska, and she wasn’t liking
it one bit.

Despite her fears, she held in there and the tent went up. I had our small
buck knife open to one side, in case a bear should attack. I imagine it would
gain us about a second or two more of life. The pepper spray, which Lorna had
clutched as a safety blanket while I had assembled the tent, had been left in
the car and wasn’t available for the potential battle with nature.

Day 10 [August 14, 1996] arrived without a bear attack, and Lorna’s
mood brightened with the morning’s light. We quickly pulled the tent down in the
freezing cold that came off the nearby glacier. Then it was off to the airport.

Low cloud cover meant that our flight to
Gustavus was delayed, so we left and got drinks and donuts at a nearby
supermarket. About two hours later, we finally headed toward the plane, thanked
for being the only people with any patience. Many people had only one day to get
out to Glacier Bay and take a tour but we had three days there, so we were much
more relaxed.

Our flight with Lorna’s friend Rocko in a small Cessna back in February
proved to be good training for our flight. It was a little five-seat plane we
jumped into. I sat up front, while Lorna sat next to a young woman from North
Carolina.

Glacier from the plane

Up we went, and we had a marvelous view of everything around, including the
rising mountains directly in front of us. It didn’t seem like we had much room
to clear them, but we slowly rose and were treated to a great look down into
valley carved by glacial ice.

After landing, Sandy from the Puffin Lodge came to collect us. As we drove,
in a van where the speedometer never moved from 0, she filled us in on the big
event in Gustavus — paved roads. They’d
finally arrived, after the last ones fell apart just after WWII. We also got a
quick tour of Gustavus. We saw the store and cafe, next to each other, and that
was it!

Our cabin was small, but nice. After having much needed showers, we took
bikes out from the lodge and headed to the cafe. Unfortunately, the cafe was
closed. We bought some chips at the store and were told there was another
restaurant further down the road.

Sandy had also mentioned this restaurant, and after we found no good pickings
in the store to make picnic sandwiches, we decided to give it a go. It turned
out to be directly across the road from the lodge. We parked our bikes, took off
our shoes as requested, and went in.

Almost immediately, we wanted to leave. Everything LOOKED nice and homey, but
it was quickly apparent this was more like being in someone’s extended kitchen
rather than a proper cafe. Lynn brought us some menus and a chalkboard with more
selections, but then she proceeded to erase about half the items on the board,
which she was now out of.

We settled on lasagna, overpriced at $10 , even for Gustavus’s remote
location. $2 more got me some sausage added to it. While we ate, Lynn’s three
employees came in and all chatted about bears, mail and how one of them was
apparently out of a job because of slow business. They all also enjoyed
cheesecake, which we had passed on in order to make it out the door for under
$30.

We did get one good tip about wild strawberries that grow along the sea
shore, so thanking Lynn for our wonderful meal (which did fill us up), we took
the bikes back out toward the beach. Along the way, we stopped at the store for
ice cream bars and watched as roller-blading kids hung out along the porch. I
later learned that the arrival of paved roads meant that the kids now for the
first time could try out roller-blading and skateboarding. It was sweeping the
area, Sandy said. Unfortunately, it was driving the proprietor crazy. I shared
with her the tip of tossing out small gravel so that the roller-bladers couldn’t
skate. I guess we’ve had more experience in discouraging roller-bladers down in
California.

Armed with ice cream, it was off to the beach. At the small pier, we had to
get off the road due to paving equipment. We followed a path until it ended,
seeing lots of strawberry plants but no actual berries. It then led us through
what turned out to be wetlands. There were absolutely no signs saying to stay
out, as you would see in Southern California. Perhaps there is just so much
wetlands area up here that it doesn’t matter! At any rate, feeling somewhat
guilty, we finally made it out and back onto the road.

Exhausted from our tramp through muck, it was back to the store. At this
point, we decided that the store was obviously the main highlight of Gustavus,
so we sat on the porch with our drinks and watched the people come and go. The
best was when a young woman pulled up, got out of her truck, then ran back to it
as it rolled forward and hit the store’s porch. No one and nothing was damaged,
and we all had a good laugh about this runaway truck. Then the woman, Megan it
turned out, starting talking with a friend of hers who was parked there about
meeting once she got off work. They talked for about 15 minutes, leaving us
wondering the entire time about what job it was she was supposed to be doing.

Finally, we left the store to which we’d lent so much financial support and
headed home and to sleep.

Day 11 [August 15, 1996] saw us get up at 5 for a breakfast that was
nothing like described in our brochure. We’d expected a great selection of
pancakes, fresh fruit, orange juice and other choices. Instead, it was pancakes
and coffee. Then we headed to Bartlett Cove and
Glacier Bay.

We filed onto the tour boat along with all the other tourists, and then it
was off on our 7 hour long sail. Fortunately, this boat came with a naturalist
that was anything but clueless. She had answers to everything.

We settled in next to an older couple. The woman spend most of the trip upset
that someone else they’d met were at a lodge that served three meals a day. We
didn’t try to console here with our story of dining at Lynn’s.

Binocular rentals were only $2 each, so Lorna and I both had a pair. They got
put to good use, because bears and whales were spotted as we headed up the bay.

Arriving at the glaciers was somewhat disappointing. We’d both expected these
mile long stretches of ice that would dwarf the ship. Instead, they seemed much
smaller, probably due to the distance we stayed back. That’s for safety, though,
so you can’t complain much.

Grand Pacific Glacier

The

Grand Pacific Glacier is the one that carved out Glacier Bay and then
retreated back 40 miles over the past 200 years. It looked more like a wall of
dirt rather than ice, due to all the rock fragments and chunks the ice it picks
up as it moves across the land.

Margerie Glacier: Before

Margerie Glacier: After

Next to it was the

Margerie Glacier, which was much more spectacular looking. It was brilliant
blue in some places, gleaming white in others. Margerie put on quite a show,
too. Some ice began falling into the water, then a huge section right in the
middle collapsed into the sea, sending up a huge wave that moved the boat. We were watching from the end of the boat and pointed directly at the glacier
when it occurred. The naturalist said it was the best collapse she’d seen all
summer. The size of the glaciers may have seemed disappointing, but we
considered ourselves very fortunate to have seen that collapse.

This incredibly annoying looping GIF has waited 10 years
to finally show how I could put six photos together to make
a movie. Please appreciate its
Web 1.0 pre-YouTube moxie.
(Note: OK, OK, it’s not animating right now — I’m working on it!)

I also found it extremely interesting to see all the valleys left behind by
the various retreating glaciers. It so easy to see how they carved out the gaps,
leaving nothing but bare earth in the way. It’s harder to see this in a place
like Yosemite, since there’s been so much growth since the glaciers have
retreated. In Glacier Bay, advances and receding are measured in years, not
hundreds or thousands of years.

We stopped at a few more glaciers, then it was back to port. We had dinner at
the cafe that was closed the first time we went. It was everything Lynn’s
wasn’t: good food, friendly and good prices.

Day 12 [August 16, 1996] saw us at a loss. We’d really done all we
wanted at Gustavus, not that there was much left to do short of kayaking, which
we’ve both decided from experience looks like more fun that it is. Our flight
out wasn’t until 5:30, but then there was a cancellation and we had only a few
minutes to gather up stuff and leave. We scrambled but made it, up and away on
another small plane and back to Juneau.

We were in good spirits, because of what would have been a wasted day in
Gustavus, we now had plenty of time to explore Juneau. First off, we found a
small hotel to say in. I had to do some work on the NetGuide article and needed
a phone and a place to work for a few hours. We found a lovely place down where
the cruise ships dock, a former brothel turned into an inn. Budget be damned, I
figured–this was for work!

Before going to the hotel, we stopped off at
Mendenhall Glacier. It’s a huge
one, just outside of Juneau and quite pretty to look out. There’s also a stream
nearby that was just filled with huge salmon swimming upstream to spawn. It was
incredible to see them all struggling to move up in the shallow water. They were
so clearly exhausted, and there were several dead ones about. It smelled awful,
but apparently everything we saw, and smelled, was quite normal.

The dock area is very touristy, but in a pleasant sort of way. There are all
sort of little shops, and there’s a historic feel to it all. Lorna did the
laundry while I worked on the article, then we had a good explore and got
dinner. After that, I stayed up working through the night on the article until
it was time to leave at 4 a.m. for our ferry.

Day 13 [August 17, 1996] started with the early morning drive to the
ferry. I got some advice from a car waiting behind us on putting screen over our
radiator. I was trying to cover the headlights and the radiator grill in
preparation for driving along the Alaska Highway, but he said it’s mainly bugs
getting into the radiator to be worried about. I guess he’s right, because the
screen I covered the grill with is full of bugs.

On board, we went right to sleep. About four hours later, we were getting off
at Haines and heading up to meet the junction with the Alaska Highway. We had to
cross into Canada, and I was worried about not having proper proof of insurance.
Insurance never came up, but questions about banned items such as pepper spray
did. Why yes, I do have pepper spray I said — and now I do not! Oh well, it
probably wouldn’t have helped against bears much, anyway.

Alaskan Highway

We hooked up with the highway and wondered what all the big fuss was about.
The road seemed perfectly fine, and the scenery was spectacular. Then we hit the
construction area, miles and miles of gravel roads, potholes and dips.
Construction work can only be done in the summer, and they’re going full-out
along this one stretch we traveled. Lorna drove most of it, and there were only
two scary parts. A rock hit our windshield square on but didn’t crack it or
leave any damage. Later, I hit an uneven part of the road and we bottomed out
hard on one side of the car. Again, the Festiva came through fine and carries on
like a trooper.

Day 14 [August 18, 1996] started with rain. We stopped and camped the
day before at a place in
Tok, and rain poured down in the
early morning. The tent performed admirably, and we stayed perfectly dry though
unwilling to move into the wet world beyond our fabric walls.

Eventually, we did get up and had breakfast at the campground’s cafe, known
for its sourdough pancakes and reindeer sausage. The pancakes were great, but
Lorna refused to eat the sausage, fearful of committing some type of sin against
Santa Claus. I had one and found it spicy but great, although now I may have
second thoughts as my stomach jumps around. It’s probably just reading in the
car, not the revenge of Santa Claus or Rudolph.

• Previous In This Series:
  Orange County, California
  To Prince Rupert, British Columbia
• Next In The Series:
  Wrangell-St. Elias
  National Park