Following my first bigship Alaska cruise a few years back, I came home very happy. When I went back last year to sail aboard Cruise West's wee Spirit of '98, it was an altogether different experience. This time I communed with nature--the stupendous landscape, variable weather, birds of all sorts, wildlife galore in the water and onshore, and sweet scents and pungent smells (those sea lions!)--in an almost spiritual way.
In fact, the adventure dredged up the past when first I drove to Alaska one summer at age 18, backpacked and hitchhiked there another summer, and then cruised the Alaska Marine Highway by ferry in the unlikely month of January. For me, Alaska is the lure, and I want to get in under its skin and witness it from the deck of a small ship, rather than rooting around a floating entertainment resort.
Unlike many small coastal ships, the 100-passenger Spirit of '98 has character. She exhibits the graceful profile of an early 20th century American steamer with her rounded superstructure, upward sheer to the decks, straight stem, and a tall black stack embossed with Cruise West's white bear logo. The vessel began life on the East Coast in 1984 as Coastwise Cruise Line's Pilgrim Belle, and I made one of her very first trips in Long Island Sound. Then under the banner of Exploration Cruise Lines, she became the Colonial Explorer, and I spent a week aboard her in the Chesapeake Bay. When that company went bankrupt, she moved north to Canada as St. Lawrence Cruise Line's Victorian Empress, and I sailed on her along the St. Lawrence River and Seaway. Now based in the Pacific Northwest, the Spirit of '98 looks as if she might have headed north to the Klondike Goldfields in 1898, but the happier reality has her taking modern-day explorers in search of wildlife, scenery, and a good time.
The plush interiors of the Spirit of '98 are Victorian and Edwardian with pressed tin ceilings, square mirrored columns, overstuffed furniture, an elaborate dark-wood bar, and mirror-backed dining-room buffet. Heads turn when she passes or approaches a dock, and her passengers soon develop a deep affection for their conveyance and the young all-American crew.
Most of our fellow travelers, ranging in age from 30 to past retirement, hailed from the Lower 48, but 10 percent were Australian, a nationality that enlivens the atmosphere. Meals took place in the big-windowed, open-seating dining room at large round tables and cozy banquettes. A buffet breakfast served in the lounge drew early risers and light eaters, and an ondeck barbecue featured spare ribs, fresh Coho salmon, sausages, and burgers. Dinner menus offered just one soup, two salads, fresh hot breads, a choice of six main courses, and a featured dessert plus sherbets. For the cocktail-hour set, the pre-dinner hot hors d'oeuvres served as appetizers. Cooking was straight-forward American-style and uniformly very good, better and more varied than expected, with memorable entrees such as Dungeness crab, grilled halibut, and prime ribs.
Cabins are all outside and small but not cramped, the majority opening onto one of two covered promenades. The announcement of a humpback whale sighting meant just a quick step out the door for a look-see. TVs, unusual for most small ships, had VCRs for screening freely selected videos. Cabin windows dropped open, a big plus, allowing the sound of the sea to lull one to sleep, and it is not an exaggeration to report that I slept better here than at home.
Enrichment opportunities included Native Americans offering insight into their oral traditions, costumes, and dancing; talks by Cruise West expedition leaders and National Park Service personnel; much socializing and bonding among the souls onboard; and the "Great Land" of Alaska.
As the 192-foot Spirit of '98 was preparing to sail from Seattle's Pier 69, a 778-foot cruise ship was slipping her lines at the adjacent cruise terminal. Both ships were northbound along the Inside Passage to Ketchikan. While the purposeful liner made straight for Puget Sound, we detoured for an early-evening tour of Seattle's active recreational and commercial waterfront. The big ship's speed would put her into the first port after two nights steaming, while our slower ship would take three; but more to the point, the relaxed schedule allowed our captain to dawdle and diverge from the set course when there was good reason.
The first such opportunity arose on the second day when we encountered a large pod of Pacific white-sided dolphins that our interpreters estimated to number 100. Once in their midst, passengers standing one deck above the waterline looked directly down as the dolphins played in the bow wave, while a few yards away others rolled on their sides and even breached. On day three the Spirit of '98 slipped into Green Inlet, and ringing "dead slow," silently eased up to within a few hundred yards of four brown bears--a sow and three cubs--grazing on the sedge grass and pawing at rocks encrusted with succulent caches of mussels.
In Misty Fjord, most aptly named for an almost constant drizzle, we trailed well behind a 50,000-gross-register-ton cruise liner, and when she paused about three-quarters of a mile off South Sawyer Glacier, we passed on through rafts of floating ice to within 400 yards of its face, remaining for an hour to ogle the massive formations and varied shades of greens and blues. On the way out, we nosed up to a waterfall, and those standing at the bow got showered in spray.
Shore trips were offered at Ketchikan, Skagway, and Haines--many similar to those offered by the big ships, but there were differences. More choices are available on the big ships with 1,500 to 2,500 passengers, and they get preferential time slots for the helicopter and float-plane trips; but apart from these two examples, Cruise West contracts its own excursions, and with less than 100 passengers, the groups are smaller when spread over three to five tours.
At Ketchikan we walked independently out to the Totem Heritage Center, then strolled past the shops along Creek Street to an excellent first- and second-hand bookstore with lots of titles reflecting Alaska and the Pacific Northwest.
At Skagway, several White Pass & Yukon Route trains backed down to the piers, and Spirit of '98 passengers occupied their own private railway coach for the climb paralleling the arduous trail the prospectors followed in 1898. A few years later, they traveled far more comfortably over this very rail line. The narrow-gauge train whistled out through town, then twisted and turned up to the summit for long-range views back down to Skagway and west to the distant St. Elias Range. Once I made the complete rail trip to Whitehorse, capital of Canada's Yukon Territory, but the service is now truncated to Lake Bennett, and onward travel is by motorcoach.
Back in Skagway, the National Park Service runs a free city tour (the entire downtown is a designated national historic district). The interpreter relates stories of hardship the gold seekers endured, such as the Canadian government's requirement that prospectors carry a year's supply of provisions before being permitted to cross the Yukon border, the terrible toll of 8,000 horses dying along the trail, and the rampant lawlessness and greed.
By contrast, the nearby port of Haines is a sleepy little place, not much more than a transfer point between the Alaska Marine Highway ferries and the road north to Anchorage and Fairbanks. Some passengers went birding in the "Valley of the Eagles" aboard a white-water raft, while I took a walking tour of Fort Seward, a former early 20th century U.S. Army Base. Its line of fine wooden hillside houses looks across a village green to the Lynn Canal, the main channel leading from Skagway south to Juneau. The most anticipated event came on the final day when we entered Glacier Bay at 6:30 a.m., not to exit until 8:30 p.m. While waiting for the big ships to leave, our captain took us close to tufted puffin and pigeon guillemot rookeries on the islands of North and South Marble.
In Tidal Inlet, we had black and brown bear sightings in four different directions, a bull moose on the beach, a rare wolverine peering at us from the brush, and a humpback whale feeding close in to shore. In South Sandy Cove, we watched mountain goats cavort and yet manage to maintain footing on a seemingly 90-degree slope. At the waterline, a pack of Steller sea lions, mostly males, gave off guttural grunts and an odor that sent one reeling aft in search of fresh air. Moving up through the bergie bits to Margerie and Grand Pacific glaciers, we stood off watching the calving ice, and when one sizable blueish-white tower collapsed, the captain aimed the ship's bow into the oncoming waves.
