(Note: This post was accidentally published before I had finished editing it. This is an edited copy.)
Since arriving home from Alaska I’ve become involved in the age-old declutter process, the goal of eliminating all that is not “loved, appreciated, or used,” according to my Fung Shui book I pulled off the bookshelf as I was cleaning. It’s a slow process, as is the healing of my foot. I work for a few hours and then want to sit and put my feet up. But I’ve made progress.
Today a friend came who I hadn’t seen since before the trip. I put on the Alaska sideshow and realized I had posted only a smidgen of those I took. I also had a request from blogging friend ShoreAcres to post more photos of the Alaska trip.
Besides the people, the marvelous landscapes, and the wildlife, there were the harbors–also teeming with wildlife, including the delicious people variety–a perfect people watching venue.
The co-mingling of the rich and the poor in harbors is a phenomenon not to be found in any other setting that I know of. Sixty-foot yachts moor next to rusted fishing boats moored next to fully outfitted sailboats, moored next to the most moss-encrusted piece of crap boat you can imagine. I realized that I shot more photos of the piece of crap boats because they are more interesting.
I call this one Dream Boat….like my worst nightmare dream.
Small yachts moored in Ketchikan Harbor next to fishing boats.
“Our” sailboat, Illumine.
Sitting on the bow of the boat on a sunny day in the Ketchikan Harbor was one of my favorite days of the trip, including our time at the pristine and wild Ford’s Terror. Every manner of individual, young and old, fit and unfit, sailors of every ilk, yachtsmen and women, traverse the docks to their boats, hauling gear, groceries, loading and unloading. Boats leave and other boats take their place. If the boat that left “owns” their spot, another boat may pay the electrical bill to take their spot for a day or two while boat one is out fishing.
On one permanently moored cement sailboat a single mother lives part-time with her seven children. One adolescent climbed the mast and stood on the spreader enjoying the view. Her younger brother ran around in diapers on the cabin roof, while others lounged with blankets and games in the sunshine.
We went to town a couple of days, saw some sights, like Creek Street in Ketchikan, the former prostitute “alley” that now houses shops and restaurants. We went to the totem-pole museum and drove up the coast. But none of it measured up to the harbor, except maybe the totem poles.
Unique to Ketchikan and to ports we did not visit, are the cruise ships, behemoth floating hotels dwarfing the boats beneath. These were moored in the Ketchikan Harbor. We were moored a mile north at another harbor.
Float planes that take tourists to visit the fjords and glaciers cued in the air above the channel.
And then the sunsets.