Home the Long Way (3) Juneau - Sitka - Juneau
Off at Sparrow Fart to board our friend the Fairweather for 4 hour trip to Sitka, a town on Baranof Island south-west of Juneau beyond the Inside Passage and on the Pacific Coast. It was originally called New Archangel when the colonial capital during Imperial Russian control of Alaska in the early 1800s. Ferry travel is enjoyable, and this journey to Sitka was wonderful - although the channels between islands is mighty deep, the passage is very tight in places, so the boat follows marker buoys closely.

We wound through the channels, past intriguing islands - many no more than large boulders a-topped with miniature forests. We'd bought games in case we needed to pass time, but mostly we watched the view and chatted. Visibility was great as it was a bright sunny day, something which doesn't happen often in this neck of the woods. Ferry travel helps one to appreciate the vast extent of Alaska's rainforest and wilderness - it's big! Occasionally we'd pass a tug towing a HUGE barge laden with containers and, in this case, a whole house on the back.


I kept my eyes peeled for whales - although it was late in the season I'd been told to look for blow hole blasts, but didn't really expect to see one. But, to my absolute delight (as the whole boat who will have heard my gleeful but too loud squawks will testify) I spotted one and, deep joy, we witnessed a humpback whale diving - its big fluke breaching the water. Mash managed to nick a photo, but it doesn't do justice to the event - any more than the one showing my pleasure really conveys my true delight. Wonderful.

Using my eager eagley - eyes I also spotted a sea otter zipping through the kelp-beds. My delight didn't cause me to squeal quite so loudly this time, but I was just as euphoric. He was fair steaming along, undulating through the kelp, so didn't see him for long, so sorry, no photo.

Ferry travel provides a good opportunity for Alaskan-watching. Interesting to watch people. Footwear and beards are good; most Alaskan's seem to wear either wellies or walking boots, or variance thereof, while beards are mostly bushy. We were particularly fascinated by on eccentric lady, who tramped about the boat, wearing lots of baggily clothing, a large floppy felt hat - all of which topped off with a shiny space-helmet, complete with dashing flashing red light at the back. Excellent! Jacq and Mash took sneaky shots, and Jacq had a long conversation with her - she's a homeless globe-trotter who fancied a look at Sitka.

Arrived in Sitka, but had a wait for bus into the town. Staff at the ferry terminus had forgotten to let the bus people know that a ferry was coming in (times & days vary because of tides, and it seems, other eccentricities such as ferries catching on fire) We had to wait for phone calls to be made and bus to arrive. Jacq has booked us into a fine hotel right on the beach with great view, so we took in the atmosphere while Jacq sorted out car rental at the airport.

Sitka doesn't have a big harbour, but it had a real seaside feel, no doubt enhanced by the sunshine. Lots of little boats though, and harbour marina was full. Pootled around taking the place in, and visited the tiny onion-domed Russian Orthodox cathedral which was established during Russian period. Couldn't take photographs, but spent an absorbing time there-full of icons as you might expect. Talked to sweet lady who was busy dusting and brushing the place in preparation for a big service who genuflected before she clean each and every icon. It was a saint's day; St Innocent who had founded the church. We were shown his icon in pride of place - in fact lots of icons,including the Sitka Madonna. One Russian legacy is the number of Russian Orthodox people still in the area, so church is still very much in use. This cathedral had been burnt down, and rebuilt, but all the icons had been saved.


Russia's interest in the region was in sea otters - or rather their valuable pelts, and they were hunted almost to extinction. Not hunted now - except by native Indians who are allowed to do so as part of their cultural heritage.
The only other Russian building - in fact the only one to escape fire is the Russian Bishop's House, now in the safe hands of the National Park Service, who now own it as part of the Sitka Historical National Park As all the buildings were made of wood -as everywhere in Alaska, fires devastating towns seems commonplace in Alaska's history.

Jacq had used her park-rangerlyness to arrange an out-of season tour of the house for us ,which was a very informative treat. The House had been built with Finnish labour by and for Ivan Venniaminov, in 1843 who became Bishop Innocent (and hence St Innocent) who brought Russian Orthodoxy to the region. Appears to have been an interesting man - obviously a missionary converting Tlingit and Aleut native people, but spent alot of time traveling in the area, often away for months learning Tlingit and Aleut, and also wrote Russian - Aleut dictionary. Bit of a handyman too - his house had lot so things he'd made like a desk, bed, writing case.


The walls were insulated using sand and paper, with calico cloth pinned to ceilings to prevent dust trickling through. Paper, a valuable scarce commodity in those times was used to line cracks in the wooden walls, but only once that paper had been used, used again and used yet more, over-writing at all angles. Within the house was also a chapel (is that correct term for Russian Orthodox?) used by the Bish before cathedral was built and still used occasionally today. Listening to Alden, the interpreative park ranger I was struck by the many historical parallels with missionaries in Africa.


Walked on to Sitka National Historical Park centre where Jacq spent some time chatting to Park Service colleagues she hadn't seen in a while and the rest of us enjoyed the excellent museum, which contained lots of traditional artifacts: cloaks, rattles ,carvings,
furs, baskets at totem poles. It was good to see many items weren't there: good because they are still used for ceremonial purposes by Tlingits who are working hard to keep alive and revive their shattered culture. It also had lots of information about the "Battle of Sitka", a time when the Tlingit saw off, temporarily at least early Russian settlers on a small peninsula. Predictably Russian forces returned later, and the Tlingit retreated from their small fort.

The centre also has workshops where local traditional craftmen work, maintaining traditional skills such as totem carving, beading and basket-making. Mash was a pig in proverbial chatting to a fella carving a totem, being shown adze and other wood- choppy things, but wanting to make most of last light we walked around the wee park - on the site of the battle, and now home to a variety of totem poles. Many originals are safe and dry inside the centre, but copies are placed along the trail. Some are ceremonial, some are memorial, and others tell a story. Traditional designs adhere to set of rules for the colours and shapes. Raven and Eagles are very significant; clans belong to either one or other.

Walk took us onto the beach, with great view of Mount Edgecombe, an extinct volcano.

Off to bed after clazones (weird name for folded-pizza things) for an early start, but not before sauna together on the beach front decking overlooking the ocean, or rather, overlooking the darkness where the ocean was. Hot and lovely treat. Much confusion about the time for the ferry back to Juneau. Ferry people hadn't been clear about the times, but we'd arranged with bus people that they'd pick us up in time. It was going to be an early start; Jacq had to ring at 3.45 in the morning to check that the Taku ferry had arrived. Which she did, luckily because the times had changed, again. Hadn't managed to get hold of bus-people to let them know, but luckily ferry people did on our behalf, only to find the bus people, despite selling us tickets and promising faithfully to pick us up had no intention of doing so - owner was flying out of Sitka that morning. This transport incident had a very African feel to it - and felt distinctly familiar.
Anywhoo, early wake-up meant we had time to sort it, which Jacq did brilliantly & so a taxi took us in good time.
The Taku is a big ship with several decks. Bit ancient -1960's - and much slower than Fairweather. Journey took 16 hours this time, partly due to slower speed, but also a stop - off in Hoonah, a native village once flourishing on logging and fishing, both now declined, but hoping for new prosperity through tourism: they've just restored a defunct cannery, turning it into an opportunity to-flog-tourist-stuff to cruise ship passengers.


Entertained ourselves easily, reading, playing games, chatting and watching the very wet and misty-twisty loveliness that we passed. Crossed with the Kennicott, another ferry, and a number of Coast Guard boats - ferries are lifelines for these isolated communities, and are subsidised by the state and act as South-east Alaska's roads, - the routes they take are referred to as SEA Marine Highway. Saw porpoises zipping along -fast wee things.Hooray, more wildlife!


Back to Juneau for last meal together, before saying farewell to Sam and Jacq. Felt very sorry to have to leave, although aware that Sam and Jacq, who had generously shown us around and looked after us so well, needed to get back to their life.
Flew to Seattle via Ketchikan, where Mash was delighted to spot 3 ferries from the air, including the Fairweather which was scheduled to leave Juneau for Haines that morning, so something had gone awry somehow. Journey back became protracted because of a 3 hour delay sitting on the airplane in Seattle because of a mechanical problem, so missed our connecting flight from Amsterdam. Got the train from Birmingham, but hey hoo, work on the track meant a coach from Wolverhampton. Lovely Xander met us at in Shrewsbury and lovely Meri had supper waiting for us. I'm glad I live somewhere to which it is good to return but having had such a thoroughly lovely time with Sam and Jacq it is inevitably sad that our time in Alaksa is over. I console myself with the thought that unless you leave you cannot return.

"Sure is a beautiful canyon"

Editors Note:
Every time we found ourselves in a problematic situation Miranda would exercise her unflagging enthusiasm by noticing something lovely and so this quote was often fired off by either Jacq, Sam or Me. However, Miranda was always right and it was a beautiful canyon.