Tag Archives: Hiking

Totem gesture

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Monday 15 August 2022 – Today, the Silver Muse visited Sitka for a brief sojourn; arriving at 0900 and leaving at 1600.  The ship was anchored out in the harbour, meaning a tender was the only way to get ashore.  (Even if we’d scored a land-based mooring, we’d have been in the cruise terminal, five miles out of town, so there was little practical difference.)  Our scheduled excursion when we booked it was a “Waterfall and Champagne Toast Hike”.  By this morning, it was called an “Exclusive Rainforest Waterfall Hike”. In any case, our instructions were to assemble in the Venetian Lounge (normally used for cabaret, presentations and films) at 0835 because we had a special early tender to take us ashore. As usual, I was concerned about the weather because I don’t like being rained on and rain is not good for my camera. The forecast was not optimistic, but then none of them have been, so that offered no practical clue.

We had a swift early breakfast, once again sitting out on the rear of the ship to help us judge the conditions.  It was a little cool, but not actually raining, and actually the view was rather nice – many, many fishing boats

against a backdrop of small islands, some of which had evidence of habitation.

However, by the time we boarded the tender, the weather had changed.  I didn’t find that the view I had of the driver offered much hope for a rain-free day.

When we got ashore, it was still raining and the outlook was gloomy.

However, Silversea’s efficiency meant we had a quarter of an hour to wait for a coach to take us to our hike’s starting point, and by the time we climbed on board, things had cleared considerably.

We were driven some seven miles along the coast, to Herring Cove, and when we set off for our hike, the rain had stopped.  Eric, our guide, gathered us round for some introductory remarks,

including such topics as: what to do when we get charged by a bear (let him handle it and don’t run away); avoid the plant called Devil’s Club

because leaves and stems have barbed spikes which will cause you real discomfort and which are very difficult to remove; and watch your step, because the locals are dog-loving, but, more importantly there might be banana slugs on the path – their slime, when it comes into contact with water (e.g. on the sole of your shoe) turns to glue, so it’s not wise to tread on them. We did see a couple, such as this one, which was sporting “chocolate chip cookie” colouring.

That said, Eric explained that the local, Tlingit, natives knew that Devil’s Club plant leaves could be made into a tea which was therapeutic treatment for lung problems, and roots, bark and stems also had medicinal value which is currently being scientifically investigated; and the banana slug’s slime, as it trailed along, trapped and dispersed seeds and pine cones which promoted further forest growth.  Not all bad, then.

Although it wasn’t actually raining, we were in rainforest, and Eric showed us what that meant for the local vegetation.  Much new growth comes from old stumps

and some trees that grow this way can throw roots round the stump they grow from and eventually overwhelm it.

To English eyes, it’s a weird woodscape

but there are many undeniably attractive sylvan scenes

and occasional glimpses of the sense of humour of the locals who maintain the tracks and look after the forest.

It’s clear that there’s a solid maintenance effort along the trail

though there are places where nature has made her own pathway for hikers as well.

The river which flowed alongside much of our walk is a delightful accompaniment.

In places the trail was quite steep

(you can spot Eric way up the trail)

but overall it wasn’t a hard as the Mount Roberts trail we’d done a couple of days ago – better maintained, less muddy and, most importantly, shorter; we climbed just 186m before we saw the Bear Mountain Falls

(sorry – difficult to do the view justice in a photo, but a lovely sight). At this point Eric produced the aforementioned champagne and we all drank a (very small) toast – can’t have drunken tourists stumbling about the rain forest!

We retraced our steps to the bottom of the hike and were taken back to downtown Sitka. Rather than take an immediate tender back to the ship, we decided to go for an amble, with the main objective being the Totem Park. The route took us through downtown Sitka

where the totem pole influence was difficult to miss.

Another key influence from history is clear to see, in the shape of the Russian Orthodox Church, St. Michael’s Cathedral, which is central in downtown Sitka.

The Russians first came as a consequence of Tsar Peter I’s Great Northern Expedition, which spilled over into Alaska.  The Russians wanted to exploit the area to expand the Siberian fur trade, but when they expanded to south east Alaska, the Tlingit resisted this expansion because they already had deals with America and Britain. It didn’t end well; in 1802 the Tlingit destroyed the Russian outpost north of modern day Sitka and in response the Russians returned in 1804 and fought to establish a new settlement, which was contested by the Tlingit for many years until a settlement was eventually reached in 1867.

On our stroll through the downtown area, we stopped off to get some reindeer dogs at a recommended place

and ate them sitting opposite a local ukelele band

who did their best, bless them, to overcome the ukelele’s fundamental drawbacks when harnessed as backing for popular songs.

There are some undeniably attractive buildings and some other quirks in Sitka

(let’s complete the set, here….)

(oh, the dolphin is in front of the Episcopalian Church and, in the competitive nature of these things, there’s a Catholic one close by).

There’s a very extensive marina

and even a local salmon ladder, part of the Science Centre Hatchery, which we watched a few fish try to climb; but somehow we didn’t find Sitka as attractive as we had found Skagway, I’m not quite sure why.  Sitka has the amenities and the facilities but somehow, it seemed to us, lacked the charm.

However, one thing it does have which is fairly unique is the Sitka National Historical Park, or the Totem Park for short.

This features, unsurprisingly, many totem poles along a forest trail. But before we got there, a chap engaged us in conversation, which often is a heartsink moment. However, this chap turned out to be Edward Milan, a Tlingit Indian who had actually carved the pole in the foreground here (and has written books on the subject, it turns out), with whom we (mainly Jane, I was taking photos) had a gentle conversation about the history and the modern practice of creating totem poles.

We also found the workshop where poles are being carved.

Just entering on the right above is Tommy Joseph, who showed us some of the tools he works with and helps create for his students.

Our claim to fame, then, is that we have talked to the man who created the Blue Peter Totem Pole.  He is justifiably proud that he got a Blue Peter Badge for it.

We walked a trail through the park.  There are several totem poles along it, collected from various south eastern Alaskan villages by Alaska Governor John Brady and erected in this special park after the poles had been displayed at two world fairs in an attempt to attract newcomers to the area. In many cases the older ones have been refurbished and/or re-carved by Tommy Joseph who has also created new poles addressing modern life.

Totem poles originally stood in villages near the ocean where travellers could see them, advertising the wealth of the village and/or commemorating important people, events and legends.  Often the modern world doesn’t even know what the symbols originally meant. Here’s a montage of some of the things we saw.

We then hastened back to one of Sitka’s landmarks and useful navigational aids – the bridge

where we awaited the tender to take us back to the ship.

For some reason, I find the head poking out of the top of it amusing – it’s the chap who’s driving the thing.  Anyway, aside from a small collision with Silver Muse, we got safely back, having had an engaging conversation on the way with a father-and-son combo – Dad from Virginia, son from San Francisco.

And that ends the story of the day – yet another fairly full-on one.  We treated ourselves to in-suite dining whilst I cobbled these words together, and now it’s time to get our heads down before our next and final Alaskan port of call – Ketchikan.  We’re booked on a “photo safari”, which I hope I will find interesting, but during which I can imagine Jane will be quietly rolling her eyes on occasions.  Come back tomorrow and see whether I got the “iconic images” that the blurb promises!

Juneau what we did next?

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Saturday 13 August 2022 – We could afford a relatively relaxed start to the day, because Silver Muse wasn’t due to dock in Juneau until 0930. This gave us plenty of time to (a) have a leisurely breakfast and (b) fret about exactly what clothes would be the best choice for our first Adventure of the day, which was to scale the local monster, Mount Roberts. Well, as far as what they call the Tramway Station, but what we’d call the cable car station (just before the number 1 if you click that last link, i.e. about a third of the way to the top; what do you think we are, mad?).

A major consideration would be the weather – would it be cold? would it be wet? The forecast was for showers, and a temperature of about 15°C.  We both had fairly heavy duty jackets available, but we could see from the view from the boat

that it wasn’t actually raining so I decided instead to risk just a rain jacket over an extra fleece layer, with a waterproof camera bag tucked into the backpack that Jane personfully volunteered to take with her, along with a couple of small water bottles, a spare camera battery and my wallet, because she’s a sucker trouper. (Hah – Ed)

The official trail starts outside Juneau, so, to get there, we thought it would be good to walk through the town.  The ship was docked about a mile outside town, and we spurned the free shuttle bus in favour of walking into Juneau. I’m glad we did, as although the first part of the walk was along the road, it gave us a view of the ship

and we arrived in the town via a boardwalk, which was quite attractive.

(There’s little doubt about what Juneau’s main industry is…)

You can see the “tramway” departing in the photo above. We stopped by the bottom station to ask about ticket prices.  An all-day pass to go up and down the mountain in the cable car would have cost us $45 each, but the lass at the counter told us that as long as we spent $15 apiece in the restaurant at the top we could ride down for free.

We carried on through Juneau which is an attractive place, provided you don’t mind a profusion of jewellery shops.

Many of the cross streets are actually staircases

because the town is built on the side of Mount Roberts (not, counterintuitively, Mount Juneau), giving it the nickname of Alaska’s answer to San Francisco. There are quirky buildings and street art

and we particularly thought it would be worth seeing the State Capitol

which has a statue outside it of William Seward himself.

Just by the Capitol we met a Canadian couple, Cynthia and Steve, whom we’d chatted to whilst awaiting the Seward train, and we fooled around with a statue just in front of the Capitol.

This is Jane, bearback riding,

Just along from the Capitol, there’s a small but perfectly formed Russian Orthodox Church, which is really cute.

(In the competitive nature of these things, there’s a cathedral next door.)

The stream of attractive houses continued

with some lovely colours of paintwork.  We call these houses the Basin Street Blues

despite the fact that they’re actually in Basin Road, because we don’t want the truth getting in the way of a good joke.  Or even that one.

Passing a couple of other interesting sights,

we eventually reached the start of the Mount Roberts trail. It became apparent that an event was under way which involved people Running Up That Hill. We had a brief chat with a friendly-seeming marshal who told us that his brother lived in Wolverhampton and, presumably to get some sort of revenge on us for this horrible family destiny, told us that the trail was “vigorous” and the cable car station was “about 45 minutes” up it.

Bastard.

The trail was steep

and muddy in places

 

(there were marks along the way to guide us – the above is a root map)

and with some sections so steep they put in steps.

It runs through forest, which is great if you like forest, but this did mean that the trees rather relentlessly got in the way of anything like a decent view to give us an excuse to stop and photograph it in order to have a bit of a rest. It really was quite hard work for us, and presumably more so for the runners who occasionally overtook us as they headed up the mountain. And then passed us again as they came down again whilst we were still panting up.

I was very glad that I didn’t bother with the heavy jacket.  Even with fleece and rain jacket I felt distinctly overdressed, and before too long both Jane and I were in shirtsleeves – once again, very lucky with the weather.  We met a chap coming down who told us that he’d seen a bear and her cub just off the trail which made us at once excited and terrified.  We never saw the bear, which is at once a shame and a relief. We also passed a couple of girls who told us that the “sidewinder fries” at the top were excellent.

45 minutes? Hah! It was a good 90 minutes of toiling up the hill (and a climb, I might add, of 627 metres which is 2,000 feet) before we finally saw the top station before us.

There was finally a view worth looking at

and we could see our ship, too

but the main priority was to get to the bar and spend that $30,

I can report that the sidewinder fries are indeed excellent and the beer – Alaskan Koelsch – was, too.  The walk up represented the most exercise that either of us had done for some weeks, so we felt pretty pleased with ourselves, particularly since we met Cynthia and Steve again; they had ridden the cable car up so I felt we’d chalked one up for the UK. Not that we were smug about it, or anything.

I had our beer-and-fries receipt ready to show for the ride down, but no official showed the slightest interest in checking our bona fides, presumably because there were very few customers riding the cable car, so we could have saved ourselves the $30.  On the other hand, that would have meant I didn’t get the beer, and that would have been a shame.

We took the shuttle bus back to the boat, and just about made it to La Terrazza for a swift lunch.  This ended Phase I of the day, but we had still more excitement to come in the form of a whale-watching excursion. Since we had a little time to spare, I had a strategic kip by way of prep for this, and Francis brought us hot water and milk (and canapes) so we could make some decent Twinings Earl Grey tea before we headed out to the quayside again.

The excursion was billed as a “Whale Watching and Culinary Experience” with a subtext of a great photo opportunity, which is obvs why I wanted us to opt for it.  A coach ride took us to Auke Bay and we boarded a double-decker catamaran which took us out into Stephen’s Passage.  I didn’t feel a thing, your honour.

Commentary was provided by a young lass who was a marine biology student and who was clearly on top of and enthusiastic about her subject.  The skipper clearly knew roughly where to go and before too long we spotted a whale so everyone rushed to the outside deck to take photos.

This whale was called Sasha, who is sufficiently well-known to be referred to as “The Alaskan Whale”. Apparently you can see the letters A and K in her tail flukes, but I wasn’t able to verify that.  I got a couple of snaps of her, above,

and this one, showing the scar across her back from an unfortunate encounter with a ship’s propeller. We saw a couple of others as well, and if/when I get time I’ll update this post with some video.

Overall the trip, although the culinary experience was nearer being just a snack bar, was good; these were the first whales we’ve ever seen, despite having gone on whale watching trips elsewhere.

The journey back to the dock in Auke Bay took us past a decent view of the Meldenhall Glacier

and then we were back at the ship a short while before it left Juneau at 10pm.

And so ended another fairly intense day.  We have a couple of tours in the plan for tomorrow – a train ride and a bus tour of Skagway.  Since we’re likely to get rained on, being inside looks to be the best option, but you’ll have to come back tomorrow to find out how the weather treated us.

Day 10 – We go our separate ways

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Tuesday 24 May 2022.

Steve’s Story – Off the blog and on the bog

For once, the tendency to be prolix that I acquired from my father will not detain you long, reader, as I took very small part in the day’s planned adventure. Use of fancy words or sophisticated grammatical and stylistic construction does not hide the bald fact that I got the shits.

Fortunately, we had brought some Imodium, which was brought to bear within seconds of my condition becoming obvious and so the night was downscaled from being disastrous to merely horrid. It was clear that a 15km hike would be beyond me. Fortunately, the arrangements for the day involved our bags being transferred to the day’s destination, the Feynan Ecolodge, by car; so it seemed best that I accompany them. Getting from the Guest House room to the car was about the limit of my mobility, and so I climbed into a Mitsubishi 4×4, expertly piloted by a young lad called Ehab and off we went, with me hoping that the Imodium would protect his seat coverings and good nature from abuse. Ali kindly pointed out the toothbrush I hadn’t packed and the reception also kindly handed me a packed lunch – a nice thought but not really the best idea.

The hike is about 15 km and Saeed had told us that Feynan had a reception that was half an hour’s 4×4 drive from the lodge itself, so I was expecting the whole journey to take about an hour, maybe a little longer, and that seemed a reasonable time for my abused digestive system to maintain a semblance of good order. Unfortunately, I had forgotten the Nature of Dana (see what I did there?), and so the journey Ehab and I undertook looked like this:

(Jane’s route was a straightish although at times arduous path between Dana and Feynan; we had to get to Qraiqreh round the outside of the nature reserve and then wind our way to Feynan.)

Jane left at just after 8am and Ehab and I at around 1130. I got to our room about 5 minutes before Jane did; in other words, the whole car journey took about three hours, with the last 40 minutes picking our way delicately around rocks in the faintest of tracks to get from Qraiqreh to Feynan.

(Something slightly odd took place on this final stretch to the lodge. Ehab stopped by a Toyota pickup and greeted its owner, an older, avuncular- looking Arab, telling him, I infer, that I had a stomach upset. To my surprise, this chap spoke to me in pretty good English and insisted that I take a small handful of some dried, pale green herbs. I had to grind it up between the palms of my hands, swallow it and chase it down with water as, he said, it was “very strong”. He promised I’d be better in ten minutes. He was wrong. Twice. In the first instance, I noticed no digestive improvement. For the second, read tomorrow’s entry on these pages.)

Ehab is a cheerful and friendly chap with a smattering of English, but not enough to sustain a conversation with someone who feels like shit. And I know he meant well when he insisted that I drank a can of Mirinda Apple and wanted me to eat some snacky-type junk food or other, which I managed to avoid doing. I can further report that he has a taste in up-tempo modern Arabic pop music, played slightly too loudly. And when we’d been going nearly an hour and I saw the sign “Petra 20km”, I began to fear that he’d been told to drop me off there; but if you look at the map, you can see the route goes towards Wadi Musa, the Petra town. But the length of the journey, combined with my expectations of that and my general poorly feeling meant that I spent most it of either worrying that we were going to the wrong place or hoping that the next major building I saw would be the Feynan reception.

However, we got there, and I collapsed in our room

and took, frankly, very little part in anything noteworthy for the rest of the day. So I’ll let Jane tell her version of events.

Jane’s Story

The best laid plans and all that – as you’ve just read, Steve was hit by the dreaded Travellers’ Tummy overnight – odd, since we have been eating the same foods and it is usually me who suffers from this sort of thing. Delicate female digestion…!
Anyway, we decided that several hours hiking in likely 30+ degrees heat with a squitty tummy was really not a good idea, so we arranged that Steve should rest until they were ready to transfer the bags from Dana to Feynan, and would then travel with them; while I would do the hike anyway.

So it came to pass that shortly after 8am, after a quick breakfast, I set out with Salim my guide.

There is a fairly sharp descent from the Guesthouse for 2 km or so, the track is well defined but small skittery stones on a harder surface – just about my least favourite surface to go downhill on. Still, I made it intact; after the first steeper section the trail the path winds more gently down into the bottom of the valley.

The Guesthouse is just visible high above

And the end of the valley dispiritingly far ahead!

Once at the bottom of the valley the trail is less clear; obviously you have to follow the valley along, but while there are some newer direct paths Salim preferred to follow what he called the old route, zigzagging between patches of shade and points of interest – such as this beautiful mini-Siq full of oleander and caper blossom.

The path wound on, sometimes rougher, sometimes clearer, through towering scenery.

Fantastic beasts appeared

Rock shapes like tortured faces

And some less fantastic apparitions but much more cute (mother and daughter).

We took the occasional rest stop in some shade as the mercury was rising!

About 3 hours in, I thought I must be suffering heatstroke when Salim enquired “would you like to drink tea?” Being British of course the answer “yes please” came without conscious thought – and I settled in the shade of an acacia tree and watched as he retrieved a battered kettle and tea from his backpack, and lit a fire on a “hearth” that was obviously well used by those in the know.

Fortified by tea and some of the packed lunch supplied by the Guesthouse, we trudged on through extraordinary rock formations

until after about 4 ½ hours the valley began to open out

and show evidence of Bedouin habitation

and we reached Feynan Ecolodge after about 5 hours hike. I have to say, I was very glad to reach the end; 15km in 30+ degrees was enough for me! Stalwart Salim, however, was going to take a short rest and then hike back up to Dana, since (as you have heard) getting from Feynan to anywhere is a bit of a poser…

I found Steve putting a brave face on feeling really shitty (see what I did there?) so we made him as comfy as possible, with a damp towel to cool him down (sleeping under a damp towel is magic if you are feeling the heat). The Ecolodge of course, being an Eco Lodge, prides itself on eschewing such ecologically dubious but occasionally useful concepts as aircon. There was a fan. There was a nifty porous clay bottle to simultaneously hold, seep and cool (by evaporation) water.

There was an electric light in the bathroom, and candles in niches elsewhere.

I went to explore the premises, called in at reception to set up our transport for the morning and get some matches, then as darkness fell the staff set candle lanterns on the dining tables

we lit our candles

and found lanterns at our doors.

Steve couldn’t face the thought of food, I wasn’t hungry, so we skipped dinner and eventually slept off and on (the loo in Steve’s case). If you want to know how we fared on the morrow, join us in the next thrilling instalment to find out?