Sitka to Juneau

Quite a few cloudy days in a row these past two weeks, vitalized by the occasional sunburst, an exuberant display of sky and Kodak clouds and snow-clad mountains whose sharp shapes seem etched and sculpted from background matter, and ocean that instantly turns from gray to the Deep Blue for which it is named.

Yes - the sun brings out the poet (or the poet wannabe) in me. Up here in the north, a sunny day is always something to cherish. A restorative. Proof that the universe is benign. And a welcome blessing for our passengers, to whom we've "promised" unparalleled sights and experiences.

We're currently sitting in the harbor of Auke Bay, about 10 miles north of Juneau. While in Sitka I was joined by Roger and Lynn. The first day of their visit Glenda was still attending her conference, so the three of us did a day trip, poking our noses around various islands and inlets surrounding Sitka, putting down a "lunch hook" in a delightful little bay where I made my experimental tuna salad (all by myself, Glenda :) Then the four of us went out for one overnight, finding a sweet anchorage about 10 miles north of Sitka. It was all too brief, but a delightful opportunity for deepening friendships.

Next to bat were Jason, Jacky, Mary and Arthur. With all six of us aboard, this past week was filled with rollicking card games, long naps (they work hard), and vigilant searches for wildlife. (I missed the shot, but one whale breached completely out of the water less than 75 yards away.) We started in Sitka, anchored in Rodman Bay, explored Tenakee Warm Springs, stopped briefly in Baranof Warm Springs (lots of hot baths!), Hoonah and Neka Bay, and then on to Juneau. Also all too brief, but so satisfying. I so proud and grateful for my family. It was Roger who told me that in his opinion, bliss is having all of your children back under one roof, even if for a brief time. We were half way there, (the other half coming in a week), but his words resonate.

Totem from Sitka's amazing Totem Park.

Roger, Lynn and I watched carvers at the Totem Park. This canoe, from a single log of Sitka spruce. 

Our trusty folding bicycle/trucks. My bag had more than 25 pounds of groceries.

Three of us explored to the far end of Silver Bay. This is only 5-6 miles south of Sitka. Gorgeous, uninhabited wilderness.

Trollers fishing near Salisbury Sound north of Sitka. Most of these boats are wood, and many are fifty to ninety years old.

What can I say? I love black and white pictures of ravens.

Jacky, Jason, Mary, Arthur, Glenda and I anchored here on our third night. Takatz Inlet on the east side of Baranof Island.

Jacky and I found three waterfalls. I love going to sleep to their sound.

The seining season is beginning. These guys were fishing for hatchery fish, but the takings were meager.

I'm constantly surprised by the quality of iPhone pictures. This is Mendenhall Glacier near Juneau, one of the few you can drive to.

An iPhone panorama in Auke Bay (Juneau) The harbor is filled with fish boats waiting for the July1 opening.

We were surrounded by gill netters. A little weather coming in after 2 days of beautiful sun.

Downtown Juneau, rendered in B&W. There were five of these cruise ships in the day before.

I'm finishing up this blog about a week after the Brexit disaster. Last time it was Orlando. The world keeps coming up with earth-shaking events, even as we feel distanced from the havoc, surrounded as we are by the timeless beauty of the wilderness. With limited internet and no television, we haven't felt as bombarded by it all. A blessing, providing us time and perspective to process, without the constant pressure and fears permeating the "real" world.

However, that doesn't seem to prevent us from occasionally dipping our toes into the fray. We took the "kids" to Mendenhall Glacier, where we walked out to Nugget Falls. There were five cruise ships in Juneau, and the park was crowded. I'm talking city-level crowded. (About 20,000 people descend on Juneau each summer day from the ships.) Most of the walk we were surrounded by people of many nationalities. I found it exhilarating, the tangible sense that we really are all one family. 

There was a particularly large group of folks from India, many of whom seemed to know one another. We came upon one young couple struggling to get a selfie with the glacier in the background, so I offered to take their picture. In return, they took ours. And then we talked. "Where are you from?" I asked, wondering if they were from the mountainous north or the hot south of India. "London," she replied in a beautiful English accent. And then her husband chimed in. "And I work for a French company. With Brexit, we have no idea what's going to happen when we get home, so we're going to live it up on this trip."

I repeat--we are all one family, and the world is incredibly small.

All the best,

Peter

The picture taken by our new friends from London.