Following are three columns related to our summer vacation, a dream trip to Alaska that ranks as one of the best ever.
Ketchikan and points north
Originally released for publication Aug. 4, 2010
We’re big on trips in our family. It seems most of them materialize on a whim without a large amount of preparation.
Heck, a couple of years ago, Leah and I decided on a Saturday it was time to honor our 30-year-old dream of visiting Australia. By the next night, we made reservations and, a month later, we were Down Under. It merely required finding a place to stay and booking flights and a rental car.
We’ve learned, though, “The Last Frontier” is a well-earned nickname for Alaska because our trip there this summer – another longtime dream– will come as the result of meticulous planning dating back to April.
Not to make it sound too intimidating, though, because we willingly allowed planning to take on a life of its own, forcing coordination of multiple timetables and tempting the travel gods to toss a monkey wrench smack dab into the middle of things.
Back up a bit.
First, we faced the question of whether to take a cruise or fly. We’ve never been on a cruise, which has slowly worked its way up our wish list only recently.
Leah had been of the opinion that Alaska would be a great place for our first cruise. I could hardly disagree except I was afraid this might be our one time to visit the 49th state. If so, I did not want to miss what makes Alaska Alaska and I feel the interior offers the best definition. That decided (Yes, I sometimes win.), we rather quickly chose Fairbanks as our ultimate destination.
Now, while Fairbanks is the second-largest city in the state, its population is only about 35,000 with a metropolitan population of about 100,000. In other words, it did not seem likely we wanted to fill a week there.
Furthermore, we did want to visit the area of the Inside Passage. After more research, we decided to fly into Ketchikan, the state’s southernmost city of any size, and ride the ferry northward on the Alaska Marine Highway.
Originally, we looked at riding the ferry all the way to Anchorage, but the timetable did not work, so we ended up with a plan to take it to Juneau, the state capital, which we also wanted to explore.
Many Texans are familiar with our state’s two ferry systems at Galveston and Port Aransas. Suffice it to say the Alaska ferries are nothing like that.
We’re booked on the MV Columbia, a 418-foot-long vessel with capacity for 66 crew, 600 passengers and 2,680 linear feet of vehicles. It includes 103 staterooms, food and beverage service, lounge, theater area and occasional education programs.
Add the reasonable prospect of sighting whales along the 19-hour trip and the ferry sounds like a cruise, doesn’t it?
Unlike a real cruise, we opted to not rent a room but sleep on the deck. They promised “comfortable reclining chairs” and an available solarium if we tire of “roughing it.”
With that leg of the journey decided, we still had to get to Fairbanks, which was simple enough by air, but then the Alaska Railroad caught our eye. The scenery from Anchorage to Fairbanks, including passing through Denali National Park, has earned rave reviews, to which we hope to add ours.
So, if you’re keeping score, that’s fly to Ketchikan, take the ferry to Juneau, fly to Anchorage (with stops at Yakutat and Cordova Mudhole Smith airports), take the train to Fairbanks, drive to the Arctic Circle and then fly home.
As long as no monkey wrench appears. We’ll let you know how it works out.
(c) 2010 by Steve Martaindale
Just like us ... or not
Originally released for publication Aug. 11, 2010
As mentioned last week, my wife and I have enjoyed a fair amount of traveling through our 33 years together. Occasionally, I’m puzzled by the question of what is the better lesson of those travels: Is it that people of different places are so much the same or is it that we have so many differences?
Adult people everywhere (please excuse me some generalizations even though we know there are no real absolutes) seem to care about providing for their children and grandchildren.
Some address those concerns by working to instill timeless values and to carry on ageless traditions. Others confront them by trying to get their kids into position – through advanced education or additional funding – to “better themselves” or to have a more promising life.
Everywhere you go, you can find local people who love where they live. They will easily relate all of the wonderful qualities of life in their hometown, region and/or country.
At the same time, you can find people who have a desperate desire to get out of Dodge, to go anywhere else. Those people are often teens, I think, and they often do leave ... and quite a few of them eventually return.
It is reassuring to find these truths, to varying degrees, wherever you go. Sometimes we tend to think certain things are the best and/or the worst where we live.
For example, I have lived in nine different counties around Texas and have heard some local sage in probably every one refer to it as “the most crooked county in the state.” I’ve heard similar statements many places I’ve visited.
Ask them why they don’t leave and you might very well get the answer, “Why? I like it here.”
Yep, it’s somewhat reassuring to know other people think they have worse local politicians than you ... that might mean yours are not so bad after all.
It is easy to make the mistake that people in different parts of the country have cohesive ideas, as if everyone is a flaming liberal in Massachusetts and everyone is a gun-totin’ redneck in Mississippi.
However, when you start talking to people, you find location does not automatically mean everyone believes the same.
And here we thought our neck of the woods was the only spot where political discourse got so heated.
While we were in Alaska last week, my wife broke the promise we had made to each other not to ask residents about Sarah Palin. The reason for our planned silence on the topic was not a fear of starting an argument but to respect the fact they are probably sick of tourists asking the question.
We spent two nights in a couple’s home in Juneau and got to know them a bit. His comments had already gently underscored him as a strong conservative and Leah finally asked, “How do the people here feel about Sarah Palin?”
His answer was a bit of a surprise, sort of an amalgam of the country. He said she had good ideas and definitely had her heart in the right place. However, he added she was not ready to lead a country and he implied those who put her on a national stage so quickly might have done her a disservice.
One final example of how similar some things are. As we left Texas, people were complaining about the 100-degree heat. In southeastern Alaska, they too were complaining about the heat ... the 72-degree heat.
(c) 2010 by Steve Martaindale
Too big?
Originally released for publication Aug. 18, 2010
During our recent Alaskan vacation, we scheduled nothing but transportation and relied on serendipity to provide insights into the 49th state.
After picking up our rental car, we had all day Friday to do what we wanted in Fairbanks. More than one person suggested a museum at the university and others a dinner cruise on the Chena and Tanana rivers. Nearby is the town of North Pole, Alaska, which sounds like an entire village caught in year-round Christmas mode.
All good ideas, for sure, but too touristy for our tastes. We wanted to experience more of “real life” in Alaska.
As usual, fate proved a great traveling partner. The Tanana Valley State Fair kicked off at noon.
A state fair? Are you kidding? You cannot get more local than that. Indeed, we felt treated like locals as we wandered the fairgrounds, applauded performers, sampled food and examined handicrafts and huge vegetables.
With a population of people who moved there from all over, even our Texas accents did not seem to stand out. We’re proud Texans, it almost goes without saying, but our mission there was to observe, not preach.
I was forced, however, to approach one young man, probably in his late teens or early 20s, and reveal my residency status as Texan. The fellow had spiked hair, partly dyed green, purple or both. His bottom lip displayed a ring at a particularly awkward and uncomfortable angle.
What I initially noticed, however, was the back of his T-shirt, dominated by an outline of Alaska, inside of which sat a noticeably smaller outline of Texas. Then I read the words: “Alaska / Pissing off Texas since 1959,” referencing the year Alaska became a state and Texas was no longer the largest.
Coming up behind him, I placed a hand on his shoulder and read confusion on his face as he turned, “What does this old guy want with me?”
“As a Texan,” I opened, perhaps causing him some concern, “I got a kick out of your T-shirt.” He smiled and we chatted, enjoying a brief moment of bonding across borders and generations.
JUST HOW BIG?
Truth is, the “size” of things proved difficult for us. Leah continued to complain about her attempts to take photos. She would look out over the scenery and desire to capture the moment on what serves as film, only to find frustration.
“It truly is too big,” she exclaimed repeatedly. “It won’t fit in the viewfinder.”
Likewise, she asked more than once, as the week wore on, what I found to write about.
I honestly did not know. The ferry ride was memorable, the glacier awesome, the train ride relaxing and the people watching phenomenal. The drive to the Arctic Circle was special, to be sure, and the cool weather a welcomed respite from the Texas heat.
But the state fair (considerably smaller than the Texas State Fair and probably smaller than many of our county fairs, by the way) might have been the most special activity during the trip. There is no surprise it came from an unplanned and unexpected event.
The fair did provide another fun encounter.
We were in a vendor’s booth, looking at a broad selection of witty and interesting signs. I noticed a couple of Aggie signs and Longhorn signs and even a Red Raiders sign but no other college references. “What’s up with the Texas universities?” I asked.
“We’re from Texas,” the woman said, “and we find they sell up here, too.”
Come to find out, this couple who have set up at the Alaska state fair more than a dozen years live less than 40 miles from us.
Amazing.
(c) 2010 by Steve Martaindale
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