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Luxury in the Wilderness By Nancy Nichols Printed in the Dallas "D Magazine" - March 2007

Alaska comprises more than 365 million acres, and there are almost as many ways to experience it. Camping, hiking, mountain biking, and white-water kayaking opportunities abound in the interior, home to Mount McKinley, the highest point in North America, and Denali National Park Preserve. The Southwest region, tossed up against the Bering Sea, is a spectacular destination for exploring volcanoes (there are 40 along the Ring of Fire), the Yukon Delta, or the McNeil River State Game Sanctuary, with the world’s largest concentration of brown bears. To the north, the sky’s blue light sweeps across vast, flat land. Caribou roam the tundra; the polar bear is king. In the Southeast, the Inside Passage, a network of waterways that extends 500 miles north from the Puget Sound along the western coast of British Columbia, is a paradise for nature lovers and fishermen. During the summer, five types of salmon and 15 of the world’s greatest whales cruise the coastal waters.

I picked the Southeastern section of the state in a blink after a brochure for American Safari Cruises (888-862-8881; www.amsafari.com) landed on my desk. The small company promised “exclusive yacht adventures” in Alaska, as well as itineraries in the Sea of Cortés, Columbia and Snake Rivers, and Pacific Northwest.

The yacht approach appealed to me. I’m hyper aware that most Alaskan cruises tend to attract an older demographic and are port-intensive—which is a nice way of saying the large cruise lines draw hordes of travelers who are just as happy roaming fudge factories and souvenir shops as they are watching a whale spout 300 yards away.

I didn’t have the luxury of time, so taking a cruise made sense, because it’s the easiest and fastest way to see a lot. And exploring Alaska on the 112-foot Safari Escape matched my lust for adventure with my addiction to luxury. There would be physical activities like hiking, biking, and kayaking instead of gambling, tango lessons, and karaoke. The beds are fitted with down comforters; the food is freshly prepared by a chef. Why would I choose to fight 2,000 passengers for a glimpse of a glacier when I could perch on the bow, my binoculars in one hand and a bloody mary in the other? I wouldn’t even need binoculars because this little ship traverses the fjords and brings the glaciers to you.

A few weeks later, I began a voyage that included exploring the waterways that weave between islands and the mainland, learning the finer points of totem-pole carving, and touring a caviar factory. Along the way, I encountered humpback and orca whales, glaciers, and too many bald eagles to count. I kayaked within 30 yards of a grizzly bear and came so close to a Steller sea lion that I could have kissed him on the nose.

For eight nights, Alaska was my private playground. The crisp air, the acidic aroma of muskeg bogs, the taste of fresh crab and salmon, the haunting call of a loon at midnight—it’s all forever imbedded in my brain.

And so is the recipe for the best damn bloody mary on the planet.

Day 1: Meet, Greet, and Shove Off
As our plane landed in Prince Rupert, my photographer and I felt a pang of anxiety at the thought of spending eight nights in close quarters with 10 strangers. What if this boat was full of geezers who just wanted to play bingo? But half an hour after boarding our ship and meeting the crew and other guests, I worried that I would be the one left behind. To say that our bunch was enthusiastic would be an understatement—and that goes for the 90-year-old grandmother who was looking forward to kayaking for the first time.

Following a late-afternoon briefing from captain Tim Voss, we headed north across Chatham Sound to the Misty Fjords National Monument Wilderness. After dinner, we retired to the top of the ship for the 11:30 pm sunset.

Day 2: Killer Whales and Totem Tales
Nitakuwa Barrett is a naturalist and the expedition leader for the Safari Escape. Her enthusiasm is infectious. Sure, it’s easy to listen to her morning briefings on bears and whales, but it’s not until you find yourself looking forward to spotting a pile of warm bear poop that you realize you’re under her spell. After our first breakfast on board—an endless train of bacon, eggs, fresh biscuits, and pancakes prepared by chef Dave Gipson—Nita began her first post-breakfast talk on what we could expect to see along our way.

When she finished, we all set about to explore the ship. There are six sleeping rooms, each with a private bath, TV/DVD, and port windows. Speakers in the ceiling enable the captain to make announcements—or, in our case, Nita to grab the microphone and wail, “Orcas starboard!” Our leisurely morning morphed into a madcap orca-finding mission. We boarded the rubber skiff and, for the next hour, chased the unmistakable black fins of three orcas feeding close to the shore of a small island.

Mid-afternoon we docked in Ketchikan, a picturesque town perched on the steep edge of Revillagigedo Island, a lush rainforest area that receives an average of 13 feet of rain a year. Before we set out to tour the Saxman Totem Park, we were joined by Joe Williams, a local American Indian from the Tlingit tribe, who gave a brief talk on the history and culture of totem poles. I admit I was ready to run to the nearest fudge shop, but by day’s end, I’d developed a strong appreciation for the traditions of totem poles. We even scored a private tour of renowned Tlingit master carver Nathan Jackson’s studio, where he hand-carves 30-foot cedar logs, masks, and bentwood boxes in the traditional designs and forms used in Northwest Coast Indian art.

Day 3: Black Bears, Grizzly Bears, and Kayaks, Oh My!
Our post-breakfast talk with Nita was all about bears. Like black bears and grizzly bears and why you really don’t want to run into either kind. We were making our way through Misty Fjords National Park, where the views in all directions were breathtaking. Waterfalls streamed down 3,000-foot granite cliffs, and thick rainforests dotted with pocket-size lakes hugged the coastline. Once we pulled into a secluded cove surrounded by a verdant valley, the kayaks came out. It was the most tranquil spot I’ve ever visited, with the still water reflecting the sky and snow-capped mountains. The only sounds were the splashes of our paddles hitting the water and the occasional click of a camera. Oh, and the chomping of grass. By a grizzly bear.

Yes, we were minding our own business, kayaking near the shore looking for pretty starfish when we heard him. Then we saw him munching the tall grass about 30 yards away. Thankfully, he didn’t care about us and didn’t mind posing for pictures. Nonetheless, we backed out slowly and headed across the bay to explore waterfalls. That’s when we passed Agnes, the aforementioned 90-year-old who, with her daughter Lee, was kayaking like a pro. She shot us a thumbs-up and a smile.

As we meditated on the soothing waters of a mini-fall, we heard voices. Fearing we were in trouble for wandering into an off-limit area—Misty Fjords has protected wilderness status—we turned around to see a kayak approaching. “Hark,” said a friendly voice. It was Rachael Palko, the ship’s hotel manager, and chef Dave bearing a freshly baked batch of chocolate chip cookies. “Special delivery,” she chirped as she passed us a napkin loaded with warm cookies. Special, indeed.

Day 4: Things Great, Green, and Small
As we slipped out of Misty Fjords, a double rainbow appeared off the stern. We were headed to Yes Bay, up a remote channel accessible only by small boat or floatplane. Our mission was to discover the beauty of the Alaskan wilderness by exploring an old-growth temperate rainforest. We docked at the remote Yes Bay Lodge, a luxurious facility for serious fishermen, and strolled under the canopy of towering hemlock, red cedar, and Sitka spruce trees of the Tongass National Forest. Notched-out fallen trees provided rudimentary stairs as we made our way over the muskeg hill to Wolverine Creek. Thanks to Nita and Rachel, we didn’t miss a wild blueberry, salmonberry, huckleberry, or tiny sundew plant.

By the time we got back to the lodge, anglers had returned from their morning outings and were weighing their booty: halibut, sockeye salmon, steelhead trout, and Chinook salmon. The staff snapped pictures of the guests with their catches, which were filleted, flash-frozen, and boxed before the fishermen had even removed their gear. We returned to lunch on the ship as we ventured deeper into the wilderness. By cocktail hour, we’d reached Traitor’s Cove, where, after a mile and a half hike, we were scheduled to meet some of Alaska’s real fishermen—black bears—at Margaret Creek, via a camouflaged blind cantilevered over a salmon ladder built by the U.S. Forest Service. We watched black bears plunge into the rushing water to retrieve wriggling salmon as bald eagles sat on low tree branches waiting for scraps. Just another lousy day in paradise.

Day 5: Shopping In The Wilderness
We headed to Meyers Chuck, a small (winter population 6; summer 18) village that offers a glimpse of what typical mid-20th century Alaskan life was like. The post office is the last in the United States to hand stamp every piece of mail. We learned quickly that “chuck” is Chinook jargon for a saltwater body that fills at high tide. When the tide rolls into the tiny oval harbor at Meyer’s Chuck, you have to row across to see your neighbor. When it’s out, you can walk across the sea floor filled with beautiful starfish, crabs, and mussels. After a short hike through the forest, we ended up at a gallery filled with local art, honey, hand-woven baskets, batiks, and soaps. After five days in the wilderness, we all needed a little acquisition therapy.

Day 6: A Fishy Day
The fishing industry is the backbone of the Alaskan economy. Each year the average harvest of salmon alone tops 157 million fish. That’s just one of the many factoids—“good friends don’t let good friends eat farm-raised salmon” was another—we learned during Nita’s morning fish lecture. We’d just traversed the 22-mile Wrangell Narrows and arrived in Petersburg (population 3,200), where we toured Petersburg Fisheries, the town’s first cannery, which has been in operation since 1926. Our mission was to witness the “salmon caviar” production. It’s no easy task: Japanese Ikura experts supervise the production of the red Ikura, and the entire inventory is then exported to Japan. However, we managed a private viewing and a few samples. But the real show came at dinner, when we strapped on our bibs for a feast of Alaska king crab legs just pulled from the water.

Day 7: We’ve Got Whales
Each year, around 500 whales make their way to the feeding grounds of Frederick Sound. By the end of the day, I felt like we’d seen most of them. Even Nita, who encounters these gentle giants almost every day, was astounded by our good fortune. As skiff skipper Steve Eagleston guided the rubber boat toward a pod of humpbacks, Nita’s face lit up. “They’re going to bubble net,” she squealed. “Huh?” we asked in unison. She explained: a gang of whales blows bubbles to create a barrier for fish. Then a couple of whales make vocalizations that force the fish against the wall. Once the bubble wall is closed, the fish are trapped, which allows the whales to swim up through the bubble net and swallow thousands of fish in a single gulp. It was an awesome display of nature.

When we got back to the ship, we were all over-stimulated. And there’s nothing like a good cocktail to wind you down. Rachael decided to give an impromptu, cocktail-making demonstration. She whipped up a batch of lemon-lime daiquiris before moving on to cosmos. But she blew us all away with her bloody mary: V8 juice spiked with a shot and a half of spicy Demitris bloody mary mix, lemon, and Tillen Farms pickled vegetables, all hand-shaken and garnished with spears of celery and asparagus. Cheers to that.

Day 8: Ice Rivers
Anchors away for an early morning cruise through the Tracy Arms-Ford Terror Wilderness (yes, there was a Ford, a U.S. Navy crewman, and yes, he was terrified) to explore two active glaciers, Sawyer and South Sawyer. We, too, were terrified when, about a mile from the glacier, we encountered a huge cruise ship with about 2,000 people on deck, jostling for a glimpse at the glacier. How smug we felt as we passed them and headed up the fjord, dodging giant icebergs until captain Tim decided it was time to stop. That’s when staffer Kim Dahm helped us into our insulated orange body suits and packed the skiff with thermoses filled with butterscotch hot toddies. Surrounded by sheer rock faces that descend directly into the sparkling aqua waters, we picked our way around turquoise ice sculptures and flirted with Steller sea lions. Our senses came alive as we listened to the popping noise the ice makes before calving huge avalanches of ’bergs. Warmed by the butterscotch toddies, we lollygagged for hours. The monster vessel we’d passed was no longer in our sights, for we’d gone where no cruise ship will ever go.

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