They come from near and far. Here a pair of fathers and sons traveling from Kangaloon, New South Wales, Australia, and Radcliffe-on-Trent, United Kingdom, there a family of five traveling from Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Families with three generations are in attendance from Dallas, Texas and Sharon, Massachusetts. Grandparents with their two grandsons are here traveling from Greene, Rhode Island. Like all of us on board, they come to celebrate family bonds, to create a shared adventure in a new place, and to drink the tonic of wildness here in the stunning beauty that is Southeast Alaska.
It is my pleasure and privilege to immerse myself momentarily into these family units. This morning at Cascade Creek in Thomas Bay I introduce kids of all ages to the Tongass National Forest. We stand next to the cascade where this trail gets its name from, posing for family photos and letting the mist of the falls lightly cover us. Along the trail we stop to munch on not-quite-ripe blueberries and tasty salmon berries. We run our hands in sphagnum moss and learn not to touch the devil’s club. Shaking hands with Sitka spruce and alder and western hemlock trees we talk about the life that surrounds us, so very different than the life we know at home, wherever that may be.
After lunch we find ourselves in Petersburg, the town that fish built. Some of us take to the air to see mountain goats and glacial ice from the wings of a floatplane. Others stretch their legs on bicycles or by foot exploring this lovely Norwegian community, now busily engaged in the business of fishing. We walk the docks to look at boats of all shapes and sizes, with men and women working on their seine nets, or the boats themselves, in preparation for the summer catch. I watch as a father teaches his son to fish from the dock, coming to us from the lower forty-eight, here to share this wild place together.
At some point in the afternoon most of us travel by inflatable boats across Wrangell Narrows to the island of Kupreanof. We have come here specifically to see a new landscape called muskeg. On our hands and knees we find carnivorous plants called round-leaved and great sundews. Bog cranberries and orchids catch our attention while we are inspecting the acidic ponds that characterize this area. Twisted and tortured looking shore pines surround us, along with juniper and mountain hemlock, the only trees to be seen that can tolerate these conditions.
As evening comes hotel manager Anna Marie invites us to crack fresh caught Petersburg crab in the dining room together. For most on board Dungeness crab is a new found pleasure and challenge, how to get that tasty meat out of that hard shell? Laughter fills the dining room, as crab parts fly from crab crackers and slippery hands alike. Again the joy of the generations is evident in a new found shared experience.
After dinner, almost as if on cue, humpback whales are sighted in the last of the fading light. We have not seen the sun today, but she chooses to now illuminate the glassy whale-filled waters with pinks and reds and oranges. Chief mate Andrew maneuvers the National Geographic Sea Lion deftly near these leviathans, and we are afforded views of literally dozens of whales in every direction and as far as the eye can see. Grandparents, parents and partners, brothers and sisters, and friends of all ages share in the wonder of the whales as the sun sets and we continue on our way towards tomorrows shared adventures.
