August 25-31

Sunday, August 25 (Day 23):  Last night, when the rain arrived, there was no hesitation, no gentle pitter patter. It came like a SWAT team serving a warrant. It pummeled my tent, hour after hour. I put it off as long as possible, but with a ferry to catch, I finally had to face reality. I was going to have to pack in a downpour. I shoved the sodden mess of a tent into stuff sacks, then into a garbage bag to deal with later. A final farewell to Daniel and Hannah, and I was on my way to Skagway.

When we arrived in Skagway, our ferry was dwarfed by four massive floating cities docked in port. While repelled by the mass of humanity pouring forth from said vessels, I was impressed by the smooth logistics that whisked passengers away to be parted from their money in shops and excursions. Downtown Skagway resembled a make-believe Disney village. Historic buildings dating to the Klondike Gold Rush housed jewelry stores, faux historic saloons, and stores offering all manner of Alaska themed shlock. One gentleman volunteered that he was on his 19th cruise! This was his fourth time in Skagway. His biggest excitement? He saw the “Welcome to Skagway” sign he’d missed on his other cruises. His biggest disappointment was that dress standards on this Norwegian cruise were “a bit too casual” for his liking. Hmmm.

After a brief respite, the weather turned foul again. I picked up dinner from the market and had an overpriced beer at the Skagway Brewery. The historic building looked cool, but completely lacked character inside. I gave up and did laundry and dried gear in my room.

Monday, August 26 (Day 24): People seeking a fortune in the Klondike gold rush had two main routes. The White Pass from Skagway and the Chilkoot Pass starting from nearby Dyea. One prospector said, “There ain’t no choice. One’s Hell. The other’s damnation!” Fearing famine and chaos, Canadian officials required each prospector to have a year’s supply of food and equipment – typically 2,000 lbs – in order to enter the coutry. In retrospect, it was a wise policy. It also meant that each prospector had the daunting task of moving those supplies thirty-three miles over Chilkoot Pass, or forty-five miles over the White Pass. Most would carry a 50 lb. load one mile, leave it, then walk back a mile to get the next load. Do the math. That’s seventy-nine miles to move a ton of gear one mile. That ends up being lots of miles just to begin the much longer journey to the gold fields.

Anyone successfully entering Canada would then then have to build a boat or raft to float through a series of lakes and, eventually, the Yukon River for hundreds of miles. And here’s the cruel little secret. By the time they arrived in the spring of 1898, two years after the initial discovery, every square inch of land had been staked, claimed, and mined. Having endured unimaginable misery to get to that point, most simply sold their gear and bought a ticket home. Of the 100,000 stampeders, fourteen were verified to have made (and kept) a fortune. Hard to fathom.

The rain let up today, so I was able to take in some of the remarkable history of the area. Away from the tourist shops, Skagway is actually a well-kept and appealing community. Ten miles away, nothing remains of the one-time boom town of Dyea. Somehow, that was actually a more powerful memorial to the folly that was the Klondike gold rush.

Tuesday, August 27 (Day 25): It is underfunded, and according to locals, notoriously unreliable. Still, the Alaska ferry system is the only option for most people to get most places along the coast. It was still dark when I rolled aboard for my ride to Juneau. I moved to the empty aft lounge and planned to spend a few quiet hours reading or watching the scenery slide past. It was not to be! The lounge filled, and eventually, Barnaby and Linny took the seats next to me.

As usual, conversation ensued! Happily, it continued unabated until we arrived at Juneau. Until retirement, Linney was involved with the effort to find solutions to the affordable housing crisis facing many communities. It is a complicated issue with no easy solutions, but plenty of creativity being brought to bear. Barnaby currently works with emergency responses to large-scale problems (e.g. landslides like the one in Ketchikan). Although, according to Linny, Barnaby has apparently done every job at least once. He seems to know people in every community along the coast. His stories were entertaining and usually delivered with a mischievous smile and twinkle in his eye.

Five hours passed too soon. With hugs and promises to stay in touch, I donned my raingear yet again and rolled off the ferry. I was immediately greeted by my Warmshower host, Tom. He and his wife Eva had agreed to let me stay with them for two nights. We made quick work of five miles through the rain to their home on Auke Bay. Given the constant rain, their hospitality was very welcome. As a small token of appreciation, I  contributed a hot apple pie to our dinner.

Wednesday, August 28 (Day 26): Wednesday is group hike day. I accepted their invite to tag along, although I couldn’t help notice the low clouds puking rain. They didnt seem to mind! I kept thinking they would come to their senses and call off this nonsense. Nope! The fact that locals wear high-end Arcteryx rain gear AND carry umbrellas pretty much tells you all you need to know about the people here and hiking in SE Alaska.

Tom is a regularly volunteer on trail building efforts in these parts. He was well versed in the historical aspects of our chosen hike along the Treadwill Ditch. The “ditch” was originally built to bring water fourteen miles to power a gold ore stamping mill in Douglas.

Back at the house, we traded stories and I learned more about my hosts. Eva’s  business degree was put to use to help with economic development in Juneau, and now with a bookstore that supports the local library. Before retirement, Tom was a dentist with the Public Health service. He is particularly proud of helping to develop a program to train and equip locals in native villages to provide basic dental care. That program continues to bear fruit. While Tom is the cyclist, they both have a long history of outdoor pursuits. Notably, they’ve rafted a number of extremely remote Arctic rivers. No small feat.

Thursday, August 29 ( Day 27): I very much wanted to camp one last time and spend the day exploring the area around Mendenhall Glacier. Unfortunately, the clouds here seem to possess an inexhaustable supply of water. I reached out to another Warmshower couple, John and Steph. They graciously opened their home to this soggy biker.

With dry lodging for the night ensured, I felt better about splashing my way along the soggy Mendenhall Glacier overlook trail. It’s always a bit shocking to see how far all these glaciers have receded in the past century. While still impressive, the current version is a shadow of its former self.

Late afternoon, I squelched into John and Steph’s kitchen and received an enthusiastic, warm welcome. Clothes were hung to dry. I showered and changed into my least offensive clothes.

As with their friends Tom and Eva, I found myself in the company of kindred spirits. John and Steph have made their way on bicycles to remote corners of the globe. Africa. From their driveway to Inuvik (Google it – its impressive). Norway. Finland. Estonia. Europe in general. Just to name a few. Their life experiences could fill volumes. Carpentry. Woodworking. Bassist in an Orchestra (John). Geologist. Bush teacher. Musher. (Steph). Etc.

Friday, August 30 (Day 28): Last night, it was just John and I chatting. Steph had another engagement. This morning, John went for coffee with the guys. I stayed back to chat with Steph. Two hours later, when John returned, we hadn’t moved from the kitchen table. I certainly had not satisfied my curiosity about this interesting couple.

But alas, the time had come to say our good-byes…but only with the promise to meet later for dinner. I spent the afternoon getting ready for my flight. Dinner was lovely, as expected. I will see John one final time on Sunday. He has volunteered to ferry me and my bulky gear to the airport.

Saturday, August 31 ( Day 29): Another wet day was perfect for more organizing and packing. Also, for reading, writing, surfing, and other indoorsy pastimes. By afternoon, though, I’d been inside long enough. I  joined the sodden, shuffling cruising masses as they made their way past countless jewelry stores, T-shirt, and trinket shops.

I.JUST.DON’T.GET IT! I understand coming to a town like Juneau and taking some excursion. There are opportunities to hike, or bike, or ride the tram up the mountain, or visit the Mendenhall Glacier in some manner or even go up to ride the zip line at the ski hill. But I am mystified that many (most?) simply walk around an area filled with what appears to be exactly the same shops found in every other port of call. And then to get back on a ship with thousands of other passengers? Hard pass! I’ll take my wet tent, headwinds, bears wandering through camp, and the kindness of random strangers any day.

This was to be my last night in Juneau. Tomorrow night, I begin the trip home. This then also marks the end of another memorable journey. I’ll have some final thoughts to share next week. But for now, I’m going to enjoy a last $9 beer and some world-renowned fish tacos. STC!