It is one of those perfect West Coast mornings. Sun-glinted waves. Evergreen forests, marching in dense formation up the mountainsides. Distant peaks, like cream topped eclairs. I sit on the aft deck of the S.S. Universe Explorer, contentedly tucking into a fresh fruit compote and chatting to a middle-aged couple, Jean and Fred Whitfield, from Colorado.
"Is this your first trip to Alaska?" I ask.
They shake their heads in unison. It turns out that this is their third time aboard the S.S. Universe Explorer. A cruise like no other, Jean says emphatically. She is right.
For one thing, it is a pleasure to be on a ship that feels like a ship, rather than a mammoth floating five-star hotel, and since the passenger list is relatively small (about 720 people), it is easier to meet folks who, like the Whitfields, come from diverse backgrounds, but have similar interests. Like myself, they have been enthralled by the lectures each day on anthropology, history, marine biology and astronomy-and have spent hours browsing in the library with its stock of 16,000 books.
Another plus is the informal dress code (I've always loathed togging up for dinner each night) and the fact that there are no Las Vegas style glitzy floorshows. Instead we are treated to a selection of light classical instrumental programmes and a smattering of vocal music featuring an array of gifted duo or solo performers.
Because the Universe Explorer is a smaller vessel, it provides opportunities to dock at little towns which aren't accessible to the giant cruise ships. Wrangell for example: a small community that has relied on the fishing and lumber industry for sustenance. It doesn't offer the tourist-oriented sophistication of Skagway or Sitka, but it has its own quiet charm. Children sell garnets at the dock - a tradition unique to Wrangell.
They flash gap-toothed grins and stammer shyly as they tell you how they dig the garnet ledge (leased exclusively to kids by the Boy Scouts organisation, who take a percentage of sales to fund their activities) situated seven miles out of the harbour and up a half-mile mountain trail. Along Wrangell's beach is an outdoor museum: ancient petroglyphs, perhaps 8000 years old, carved into the rocks. Their origins are shrouded in mystery, but the designs are clear: marine creatures, and concentric circles are repeated motifs.
The morning air is crisp as we disembark in Skagway - a bustling town, set against the backdrop of the spectacular Thomas Hardy glacier. The downtown core is part of the Klondike Gold Rush National Historical Park, and a little over a century ago, Skagway's main street was just a slush trail, and the area, thronged with 20,000 gold-crazed stampeders, was the starting point for the White Pass route to the Yukon.
Today, the street, flanked by restored wooden storefronts, retains the atmosphere of a small frontier town. The Red Onion Saloon is still in business, but of a less nefarious character than at the turn of the century. The Arctic Brotherhood Hall with its intriguing wicker-work façade of 10,000 pieces of knitted driftwood is now a Museum, although its membership once consisted of prospectors who paid their dues in gold-dust! Cruise ship tourists like myself, browse through upscale shops selling Indian arts and crafts, jewellery, fine china and crystal.
Sitka celebrates its Russian heritage with gusto. We attend a performance of the New Archangel Dancers which is an all-women troupe (the men apparently declined to join as they dismissed this as just a passing fad). Thirty years later, the dancers have performed across Canada, the US and Europe - including a wonderfully successful tour of Russia. The music is lively, the dancers agile and graceful. The vignettes they portray, draw enthusiastic rounds of appreciation from the audience. Later, I snatch a few precious moments browsing through the dazzling icons, vestments and paintings displayed in St. Michael's Russian Orthodox Cathedral in the heart of downtown Sitka.
True to its reputation of being the wettest town in North America, Ketchikan is teeming with rain when we arrive dockside. Slicker clad, I explore the streets, delighted to discover that some of them are in fact wooden steps leading up the hillsides.
Much of the town is built on pilings, and the former red-light area of Creek Street is a boardwalk lined by enticing gift-shops. Intrigued by her life and times, I drop into house No. 24 which was once the residence of Dolly Arthur, Ketchikan's best known hooker. Now a museum, it is filled with her original furniture, photographs and mementoes dating from the 1920's and 30's when prostitution was legal in Ketchikan…. but that, folks, is another story!
All photos are by Margaret Deefholts.
From the top:
Young entrepreneurs at Wrangell Dockside. Garnets anyone?
Next: Skagway Main Street.
Next: New Archangel Dancers at Sitka.
Next: Creek Street, Ketchikan.
Bottom: Dolly Arthur's boudoir, Creek Street, Ketchikan.
Margaret Deefholts is a world-travelled author and writer/photographer.
