5/3/08 - Alaska Ferry from Bellingham, WA to Ketchikan

Saturday, May 3, 2008

This morning I left my things in the sleeping area, taking only my wallet, to go wander the ship a bit. Now that I’ve gotten to know several people around me, I’m comfortable leaving my things when I go to other parts of the ship, and I’ve noticed they do the same. We’ll be together on this ferry for the next 3 days, so it sort of becomes its own small community over time.

A sunny chat, aft on the bridge deck (behind solarium).

Earlier I was chatting with Matt from Vermont who is bunking nearby. He’s on his way to Fairbanks to work on an organic community farm where they grow vegetables and give classes to teach others how to do the same. He gets paid to work, lives for free in a tent and gets all the vegetables he can eat from the farm. I gather he’s done this kind of work before in Oregon, and after this summer season he’s thinking about going to Hawaii or back to Oregon this winter to work at a similar farm.

Inside Victoria passage
Matt is single and in his early 20’s, and I am so impressed with young people like him. He’s making his own way in the world and doesn’t expect Mom and Dad or someone else to foot the bill for his chosen lifestyle – a mentality that some never seem to outgrow regardless of their age. It’s obvious that he has a very strong work ethic, and based on what I’ve seen him do since I met him just yesterday, he demonstrates great responsibility in his choices: if he can’t afford to do something on his own, then he waits until he can by saving and planning – instead of expecting someone else to make it easy for him with a quick handout.

In this “immediate gratification” era in which we live -- constant access via cell phones and the Internet, drive-through fast food, sometimes too-easy credit cards, and instant-everything -- it’s great to see someone like Matt, even at such a young age, demonstrate an understanding of what it means to make their own way in the world. From talking with him it’s obvious that he lives his life by saving up and paying his own way through it. What a sense of accomplishment he must feel in everything his does – because he earns it by using his brain and his labor. The more I chat with him and other people like him on this ferry, it’s clear they have all experienced that exhilarating sense of independence and pride that comes from standing on your own two feet in the world -- working hard, “paying your dues” as they say, and making your own way through life.

Matt in the solarium

And I love how most people on this ferry seem to actively engage with people who are different from them, in both age and background. When I was Matt’s age it seemed most of the people I knew were more like me – we all had similar backgrounds, jobs and home lives. I’m not sure if that sort of “keeping to your own kind” was part of the culture in the region where I lived, or if I just wasn’t aware enough of my surroundings to pay attention and seek out people who were different. So for me a great perk of moving to other parts of the country was that it provided me the opportunity to meet people who were very different from me in how they lived – both culturally and economically. Different religions, different value systems, different income and education levels – but somehow, in most places I’ve lived those differences didn’t seem to matter or be a hindrance to our getting along, but rather they were a great benefit that people seemed to enjoy.


The boat deck

The longer I live the more I realize that it’s not who we know or who we’re related to or what our backgrounds are like that draw people together (or apart), but rather how our minds work and how we think. I think of myself as sort of an observer of life, and in my own life I’ve met plenty of sincere, cooperative and sharing people out there who go out of there way on behalf of others. And I’ve noticed it’s those people who tend to live happy lives, perhaps because they seem to make the best of whatever life brings them. And of course I’ve also met plenty of the “it’s all about me and what I want or intend” people too, who seem to live at a more “on the surface” façade level where maintaining a certain image seems more important than the life lived underneath that surface. And I’ve noticed those people seem to struggle through life and be angry at the world and unhappy much of the time. When I realized that basic fact of life, it wasn’t too hard to figure out which path is the happier and more fulfilling one to try and follow.

Someone told me the other day they thought Tim and I had always led a “charmed life”. That’s pretty funny to me, because if they really believe that, then I can only say they weren’t paying enough attention to notice the error in that “perception”. It’s true that perhaps Tim and I haven’t chosen the “normal” kind of life, and perhaps we try not to make a habit of complaining about the more negative aspects of our jobs, our financial obligations, or our life and the people in it. But that certainly doesn’t mean those “negative” aspects aren’t there, we just also made different choices about how we handle those things too. Everyone needs to “vent” sometimes, that’s a healthy thing once in a while. But what good does it do to spend my life complaining to others about every problem in it? I guess I believe that life is what we make of it, and while we can’t always choose the twists and turns that life’s road will bring us, we CAN chose the path we take to get over or around those obstacles in the road.

A room with a view (bunking in the solarium)

Speaking of obstacles, one of mine today was waiting for breakfast time to arrive in the cafeteria. I’ve been up since first light just before 5am, along with a number of others from our group in the solarium, since most of us turned in not long after dark around 9pm. After a night sleeping inside-yet-outside, I find that I’m hungry this morning at a very early hour, but the cafeteria (the only onboard place for food except vending machines) doesn’t open until 7am. Fortunately an apple in my own personal “pantry” held me over until opening time. I’ve already decided that I’ll eat at least one hot meal onboard each day, and then try to make do with my own food supply for the remainder. I enjoy eating breakfast out, and that’s fortuitous because it appears breakfast is the best value on the ship for meals. For example, today’s breakfast special is stuffed French toast for only 5.50 or sourdough pancakes for 5.00.

The cafeteria on the Matanuska Alaska Ferry

I chose the French toast and milk and carry my tray to a table decorated with laminated illustrations of sea life (animal and plant) from the nearby Alaska regions. The illustrations and descriptions are from the Alaska Fish and Game, and with the clear images and accompanying scientific and common name descriptors, it makes a great educational and fun tool to review while you eat and watch the islands cruise past on either side of the gently rocking ferry.

I just heard them announce another car deck break a few minutes ago – they seem to have those about four times each day for about 15 minutes each. There are pets on the ferry but they must remain in the vehicles, so the car deck breaks are the time when pet parents can exercise their pet and give them bathroom breaks (they hose down the aft section of the ferry afterward). This is also the only time passengers can retrieve things from their cars, since only crew is allowed on the car decks except during the car deck breaks.

Lighthouse near Queen Charlotte Sound

It’s not quite 9am and as I sit blogging on my lawn chair in the solarium I hear an announcement that we’re about to arrive at our first open water crossing – Queen Charlotte Sound. This is where the ship exits the passage inside Vancouver Island and leaves the open Pacific to port for about 90 minutes, until we reach the Queen Charlotte Islands just south of our first stop at Ketchikan. I enjoy the open water and now that daylight has arrived we can see the hilly shores on both sides of the ferry. About 30 minutes after the announcement, I see the rocky coast of Vancouver Island disappear into the ocean, and suddenly the vista is white-capped deep blue water as far as the eye can see to the west.

The boat motion has increased significantly now as the wave height has also increased to 4-6 feet. I love this motion of the boat rising and falling as the bow plows through the seas and gently sways from side to side with the rocking motion that I find so soothing – but that is probably also upsetting a few stomachs aboard about now. Two of my favorite things to do in these kind of waves is to stand on the stern and watch the rise and fall of the bow and mid-ship ahead of me, and to stand on the bow and feel the rise and fall at its most noticeable point. For someone who loves boats and being aboard them, that feeling is priceless indeed.

As I wander through the ship to check out the facilities, I am reminded that this boat is a functional ferry and not a cruise ship. The first difference between this ferry and a cruise ship is the size – this is much smaller than the major cruise lines today which maximize passengers per ship. The M/V Matanuska is one of the two largest ferries in the Alaska ferry fleet (there are 10 total), second in size only to the M/V Columbia. The Matanuska can carry 499 passengers and 88 vehicles in 108 cabins and public sleeping spaces and one car deck. In addition to the car deck, there are only three other decks. The cabin deck is where the double, triple and four-berth cabins are located along with the direct stairway to the car deck where we enter and exit the ferry at each stop. The cabin deck also houses the purser’s desk and office for information and assistance, but there is no shore excursion desk – when we reach a port, passengers are on their own to explore or book their own tours. The boat deck (named for the life boats that are deployed from there) holds the cafeteria in the stern, a small bar and lounge mid-ship, and the large observation lounge forward with massive windows that look out in three directions and comfy chairs and couches to enjoy the view. The bridge deck is restricted in the forward area where the bridge is located, but the remainder is open to passengers with the theater room at mid-ship and the solarium and open deck in the aft section. There are plenty of bathrooms and public showers on each deck, and the ship is filled with great historical photos of the ferries and images of Alaska which highlight its fishing and seagoing heritage.

Two kinds of life boats (the orange ones are the traditional tenders, and the three small round canisters in the foreground are the more hi-tech versions of life rafts).

The ferry includes very limited organized activities like one would fine on cruise ships – there are no organized walks around the deck, no shuffleboard or climbing walls, no gym, no ongoing buffet – this is a functional ferry to get us from one place to another, not a floating resort destination. However the ship does provide some basic amenities -- the theater room shows movies every few hours during the daytime (people sleep there in sleeping bags at night), there is a tiny video arcade on the boat deck, and the observation lounge includes a small children’s play area and an assortment of free puzzles and games for passenger use. During our trip there were always two puzzles going on either side of the observation lounge, with passengers taking turns at fitting in the pieces while relaxing or reading in the lounge. Other than watching the movies, most passengers spent time reading, talking, or just enjoying the view.

By 10am we had moved farther out into the open water and we now had a rolling swell hitting the boat at the port beam, so our gentle rocking motion has increased to a several foot pitch from side to side. Now we’re talking. To me, this is what being on the water is all about – feeling the boat ride out the ocean’s movement, and adjusting for the motion the way a rider moves with a horse as they move together at a beautiful slow or fast gate. I love that feeling, and to me the water is just as alive and has a mind of its own too, just like the horse that moves beneath the rider on its back.

The ocean is also alive with sea life, and later in the day we are fortunate to see both whales and dolphins. The whales spout their watery plumes high into the air and flip their tails out of the water as they dive. The dolphins danced around near our bow as it slices through the water at about 18 knots.

I met additional people as I moved about the ship, including two girls traveling to work in different locations in Alaska, a couple from the tent on the solarium who are going up to backpack and camp for several weeks, and a family with a young son and another child on the way where the husband is serving in the military and have been deployed to Anchorage for two years. It’s fascinating to meet and talk with others on the ship and to find out everyone’s “story” for what brings them here and where they are headed next. We have plenty of time to get to know each other, because with 36 hours to our first stop at Ketchikan early tomorrow morning, we have another full day at sea today.

5/2/08 - Summer work in Alaska - departing Portland for Seattle and the Alaska Ferry

Hi all,
I've been in Skagway, Alaska since May 5, but with limited Internet access so far. I hope the access will improve as we get things up and running for the season, but for now, blog updates may be infrequent. Thanks for your patience at checking back for updates! Cheers, cy

Note: New photos added 5/13/08

********
Friday, May 5

It’s just before 6am and I am boarding a United flight to Dulles, connecting from there to Seattle. The flight leg of the start of a new and untried experience for me: living and working in Skagway, Alaska for the summer season (May to September).

A picture of Tim from a prior trip to Long Island, one of the islands in Casco Bay near Portland. We took our bikes on the ferry and rode around the island.

If you’ve followed this blog then you’ve heard me talk about how Tim and I are developing a plan to exchange our previous “desk jobs” for something more physical and hopefully outdoor-related for the remainder of our working years. Part of that plan is to research seasonal employment that would allow us to live and work part of the year in one place, and perhaps part of the year in another. The Alaska opportunity came up very suddenly and unexpectedly, and when I applied online to a few companies last week, I didn’t really expect to hear back from anyone, and I figured even if I was successful I might get something starting in June or July. So it was sort of a shock to receive two callbacks right away about openings still remaining for the season starting May 5! Yikes, that’s fast.

From there, fast forward one week from that first callback, the same day I submitted my online application; and here I am heading north to Alaska for my first season as a Customer Service Representative for Alaska Travel Adventures (ATA). Mostly the job is working on the docks meeting the 4-5 cruise ships that arrive most every week day, connecting passengers with their guides for onshore excursions, and then ensuring they get back to the correct ship after their daytime adventures onshore.

I actually have two jobs sort of pieced together to make one 40-hour-week position (give or take, depending on ship arrivals), as I gather is pretty common up here in season. The other part of the job is to work in the gift shop (and wherever else they need me) at one of the local recreated “gold rush camps” called Liarsville (interesting choice for a name). At the camp ATA operates a salmon bake and miners tent camp settlement that is recreated -- complete with saloon girls and brothels (not real brothels of course, even though they did exist in reality back then).
None of these entry level seasonal jobs pay very much (mostly $10-14/hour), but this is a great way to find out if I like this kind of work while “paying my dues” as they say at the same time. Of course if I do well and demonstrate other skills that perhaps qualify me for other and higher paying jobs later this season or next, then that’s great. But either way, it’s a great opportunity to do something different.


Tim sent these photos of the guys to me while I've been in Alaska (see more below).
Kennam in the car for a road trip. He loves to ride in the car.

Like most things in life, how this turns out depends on how hard I’m willing to work and how resourceful I am at taking advantages of whatever opportunities might arise – a combination of effort and luck (and what I do to help that luck). Sort of a “paying my dues now” for perhaps a return on investment later. In my experience if we’re looking for the free or easier ride, then the ride we get in return is probably worth exactly that.

Jazzie panting after a romp with her pack. We have one seat in the cruiser that we leave down (with a "dog rug" over it), and the three of them take turns using it. Very cool.

One advantage of this job is that it includes housing assistance, a pretty significant perk since--like most areas where tourism is important--the cost of living in Skagway is high. ATA provides housing assistance for their crew in the form of cabins in the Liarsville camp. I’ll be sharing a cabin with another employee (or two) – very basic amenities with no telephone, cable TV or Internet unless the cabin mates set that up themselves. Once I’m settled, I’ll send the mailing address soon via email for anyone who asks, so please let me know if you’d like that address.

This is the first time I’ve taken a job that takes me away from home for more than a few days once or twice a year, so it’s a new experience for both Tim and I. But it fits within our plan to move ourselves gradually to more seasonal and “outdoor oriented” jobs in the future. Fortunately the seasons of Maine and Alaska are opposite the season in the Caribbean, so this seems a good start.

Tim’s jobs have always taken him away from home between 50-75 percent of the time, so we’re both used to him being away. But neither of us is accustomed to me being the one on the road. Perhaps that’s why it seems strange to me – months on my own away from the daily responsibilities of home and all that entails – walking and feeding and otherwise caring for Sammie, Kenman and Jazz; mowing the grass; cleaning the house; keeping track of Tim’s crazy travel schedule as he comes and goes between trips most every week or so, and all the other day-to-day things that come with life.

Samantha (left) and Kennedy. Best buds.

I’m sure it will be a change for Tim too, because of course this means I won’t be there to take care of things he’s accustomed to me doing, and when he travels I won’ t be there to take over both his role and mine as I’ve always done. Thank goodness we have our reliable friend and awesome house/pet sitter Natasha to fill in the gaps for us, and with both of us traveling now we’re lining up backups so hopefully she won’t feel trapped if something comes up for her while we’re both away.

Even with all the planning (albeit quickly done) -- I’m still not sure I’ve fully realized the impact of this yet. Even though I tried to think through everything carefully to be sure I wasn’t forgetting anything major before I committed to doing this – because I don’t like to go back on my commitments once I’ve made them. It doesn’t seem fair if I’ve led people to believe they can count on me to do something I’ve agreed do, to then jerk the rug out from underneath them after they’ve already moved ahead with plans of their own based on that input from me. If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of that, then you know how disruptive that can be. But even though I’ve signed my contract agreement for the typical May to September season, for now it still seems pretty surreal, and I half expect to wake up at some point and find out this has all been a dream.

That was my feeling when Tim and the pups chauffeured me to the airport this morning for my 6am flight to Dulles to connect with the Seattle flight. Tim and I are already working out how to connect when we can in person, but it was strange to say goodbye to Sammie, Kenman and Jazz knowing that I probably won’t see them again until late September or early October – that’s a long time in their short lives, especially at their age. But then, if we put our lives on hold waiting for the “perfect time” to do things, then chances are we’ll never do them at all; so personally I’d rather move ahead in life and just work things out as best I can to make them work when the opportunity presents itself – as long as I’m willing to stand on my own two feet and be responsible for whatever that means. I don’t speak Latin, but I understand that saying “Carpe diem” – “seize the day.”

Kennedy out for a romp with Tim, Sam and Jaz recently at Bug Light (one of three lighthouses within walking distance of our houes). You can see Casco Bay in the background through the trees.

The short flight from Portland to Dulles and the connecting 4 ½ hour flight to Seattle were both on time - the Seattle flight was packed as usual. I was in the middle seat on the Seattle flight, but enjoyed it anyway because I sat next to a gentleman who lives in Seattle now, but who formerly lived in NH where he worked for BAE Systems. I also worked for BAE in Colorado Springs for 5 years, so it was fun to compare notes about our time in the DoD realm of military systems. I worked in the mission systems area (air force systems for flight aviation and battle management), and he specialized in satellite systems. It’s so amazing how much we can find in common with perfect strangers if we make the effort to get to know them a little bit, and how small the world really is if we look for the things we have in common with others, rather than noticing only the differences. Of course personally I’ve found I can learn a lot from other people because of those differences, especially if I keep an open and inquiring mind and heart.

Bellingham, Alaska Ferry Cruise Terminal

My solo adventure begins. After my flight arrives on time at SEATAC, I collect my large backpack containing most of my clothes for the duration of my stay and another bag with bed/bath linens for the cabin in Skagway and my sleeping bag for the ferry. That combined with a smaller duffle with my clothing and gear for the ferry and a smaller carry-on with laptop and other personal items is the extent of my luggage for the 5-month stay, although I’m anticipating asking Tim to ship some things late when I see what I need after being here a while.

Terminal for the Alaska ferry at Bellingham, Washington - the start of the Alaska Marine Highway which ends in Skagway. The ferry I was on was the Matanuska (shown here ready to load vehicles).

Tim helped me with my bags in Portland, so while collecting my bags in Seattle I quickly realize an error in my logistics – neither of my two largest bags (backpack and large duffle) include wheels so I can roll them – and I simply don’t have enough hands to carry everything. Note to self: next time bring at least one rolling bag to pile everything else on as a base. But since I can’t do anything about that now, it’s time to get resourceful: so I rig up a system by using the bag straps to hook the two biggest bags together, one on top of the other, and then I just drag them behind me. If I can take it, then the sturdy duffle bag should be able to take it too.

Map of Alaska and the Gulf of Alaska.

As these things go my bags arrived on carousel #16 (the last one at the south end of the airport), and the shuttle stop is at the north beyond carousel #1, but the long walk will do me good after sitting for several hours on a cramped plane. Fortunately I’m in time to catch even an earlier shuttle bus for the 90-mile drive to Bellingham, Washington and the Port of Bellingham. The drive is beautiful up I-5 through the valley of the smaller coastal mountain range, with a periodic view through the clouds of the snow-covered Cascade Mountains to the east. After a few stops the shuttle drops me right at the doorstep for the cruise dock terminal for the Alaska ferry.

The 3-day ferry ride sails along the Alaska Marine Highway with stops in Ketchikan, Wrangell, Petersburg, Juneau, Haines, and my final destination Skagway where the marine highway terminates near the Canadian Yukon border. The ferry departs Washington at 6pm pacific time (5pm Alaska time) on Friday, May 2, and arrives in Skagway at 2:30pm on Monday, May 5 – my base for the summer.

Police dog sniffs my bags for contraband.

I have arrived at the cruise terminal an hour before boarding time at 4pm, so I have time to look around and take a few photos. As boarding time nears and we are lining up in the boarding area, the Bellingham police canine team comes by to check all the passengers and their luggage for drugs or other contraband before boarding the ferry. I love to watch these canine-human teams do their work, so I’m glad when they come around again later after another policeman hides some scented item for the dog to find. We all watch with interest as they make their way up the steps from the arrivals area below to the boarding area on the second floor, stopping at every potted plant, trash can, or window sill on the way for the dog to make a quick but thorough sniff. They move as a team among the crowd, with the officer redirecting the dog as needed with “low” or “high” commands, to which the dog responds immediately. One of our nieces wants to do this in her career, and I can certainly understand why because it’s really an important job and I’m sure very rewarding, especially if you love dogs.

The police canine team searches for a "hidden" contraband as a test.

The “contraband” item has been stashed under a seat near where I am sitting, and as the dog passes those of us nearby with the normal “okay” sniff, when she reaches the affected spot she slows and sniffs again and “alerts” by sitting down with her nose pointing to where the item is hidden. She is rewarded immediately with a favorite large white bone-shaped rope toy and a congratulatory pat and “good girl” by her partner. She’s given a few seconds to enjoy chewing on her toy, and then the toy is removed and they are off again, to continue their work through the facility.

After the canine team finished their inspection, the ferry crew lowered the grey steel boarding ramp connecting our ferry, the “Matanuska”, to the dock. So after showing my boarding card and photo ID to the ships’ staff, I drug my bags up the ramp and onto the ship. The ferry doesn’t have porters like cruise ships do, and that’s cool because to me being a responsible traveler (and good traveling companion) means that if I can’t carry it myself, then I probably shouldn’t be taking it. So whatever luggage I have is mine to worry about, even when I’m traveling with someone else.

As a training exercise, the dog comes through a second time sniffing the passengers and bags in the ferry boarding area. That's my bags being checked now.

As I reach the passenger deck, a crew member offers to help me stow the bags temporarily in a corner along with some others, knowing that we’ll all need to hoist the bags up two flights of steep outer steps to the bridge deck at the top where we’ll be sleeping. There are several of us running up and down the steps making however many trips it requires to get our gear stowed for the duration, and as I head down the white and grey steel bulkhead steps on the stern for my second and final trip to collect my remaining duffle, I notice the cars lined up to drive onto the ramp into the car deck on the lowest deck.

After getting my gear stowed aboard the Matanuska, I next settle on my lawn chair and sleeping bag in the solarium to enjoy the departure. The solarium is actually a covered but exposed outer deck area on the top of the ship, behind the bridge. The glass-enclosed area provides walls on three sides, but is open to the rear where the helipad is located. From my advance trip-planning I know that tents can be set up on the helipad area and on designated lower outside decks, and for those without tents, the ship provides reclining lawn chairs that make great bases for sleeping bags.

The solarium deck as passenger arrive to setup their bunks. The solarium is located on the top deck, aft of the bridge. It's covered and closed in on three sides, but open to the rear. Heat lamps in the ceiling keep it reasonably warm as living space.

The 50-square-foot solarium area includes more than 20 heaters mounted overhead in the ceiling, similar to the outdoor heaters found on restaurant patios. Farther forward inside the solarium are several sets of large lockers for storing valuables, and forward of that are male and female bathrooms on either side, complete with public showers. I’ve selected my spot and setup my “sleeping area” on the port side near the outer glass-enclosed bulkhead, near one of the several orange 60-man lifeboats that are suspended overhead on the other side of the glass and white steel bulkhead.

Taken from the stern of the top deck of the loading ramp for vehicles - Bellingham, Washington.

After getting settled, I called Tim to let him know I had made it to the ferry on time, using my pay-as-you-go mobile with newly installed SIM card for home location of Alaska. I wanted him to know because this time of year the ferry leaves Bellingham only once/week on Fridays, so if my flights or other connection problems had caused me to miss the ferry I’d have needed to find another way up. I find Tim’s been out with the pups to give them their daily romp to work off excess energy -- important especially for big dogs like ours. We’re both conscious of the expensive roaming fees, so we keep our call short in hopes of longer (and less expensive) calls later via Skype.
Another view of the solarium and helipad on top deck, with view of Bellingham hills in the background. This was just before our departure.

Later, as I sit waiting for our 6pm departure and first stop at Ketchikan 36-hours away, I can look out from my makeshift berth across the stern to the pine-tree-covered hills and houses of South Bellingham. The houses clinging to the hillsides near the small downtown are mostly older wooden homes, but are mixed with the newer and more modern composite ones with contemporary iron railings, flat roofs and lots of glass to take advantage of the views of the Juan De Fuca Sound. Bellingham has a beautiful backdrop on either end, with the hilly terrain of the town and the nearby mountains to the east, and the cold waters of the sound to the west and north marking the beginning of the Alaska Marine Highway.

The ferry's wake and town of Bellingham as we depart at 6pm on the Alaska Marine Highway.

Soon the solarium has begun to fill as more people arrive and drag lawnchairs to their chosen “berth spot”. Eventually there are almost 30 of us “bunkmates” spread around the open deck, including one couple who setup their tent in the designated spaces on the open portion in the helipad area – lashing it down to the steel deck with duct tape so it doesn’t blow overboard when the boat turns if they happen to be out of the tent at the time (I guy who makes this trip every spring commented he’s seen that happen before).

A kind sole snapped this of me standing in the helipad circle near the solarium as we were all setting up our "bunks."

One of the guys in the chair next to me, who I later learn is Matt from Vermont, comments that he’s never lived in a commune before. Sounds like a pretty apt description to me. Matt appears to be in his mid-20’s or so, and is on his way to work at an organic farm co-op in Fairbanks, also until late September when the growing and harvesting season comes to a close. As I get to know people during the 3-day voyage, it’s fun to hear the different stories about what is bringing people here. An older couple is leaving the our ferry to connect to another in Ketchikan, then meeting their son in Fairbanks where he’s graduating from the University of Fairbanks with a degree in forest management. A single young woman has driven alone except for her dog from Minnesota, and when departing our ferry in Haine’s she’s making the 700-mile drive to Anchorage where she’ll meet friends from Canada and Fairbanks, traveling Alaska for a few months. Another lady is coming up to work at one of the hospitals in Anchorage for the summer; her husband is retired now so he has accompanied this time. Most people are coming up to work in one town or another, although some are here to hike and camp their way through the state.

Our "view" from the solarium. That's Matt standing near the rolling luggage.

Even our small group in the solarium is an interesting combination of mostly people traveling singly on their way to work, with the occasional couple sprinkled in here and there. We appear to be from all walks of life and backgrounds and certainly represent varied age groups -- from the young twenty-something travelers, to several people who appear to be about my age (most of them actually), to a couple and a few other people traveling singly who appear to be in their 50’s and 60’s and perhaps even a few older than that. It’s really cool how varied the group is, and yet here we all are.

There are also some young families on board with small children, but most of them chose the cabins which are provided for an extra charge. I understand from talking to someone later that the cabins are pretty basic as well and not very sound-proof, so for those of us without children perhaps the solarium isn’t that different except for the lack of a separating wall and a private bath (although some cabins offer no-bath options for a lower fare).

Around 5:45pm I hear the first long blast of the ship’s horn and the announcement advising all visitors to go ashore. I had noticed the rumble of the engines through the steel floor a while earlier, and right at 6pm I hear another long blast indicating our imminent departure, and a few minutes later we begin to ease away from the dock and into the sound between Bellingham and Victoria B.C.
My "bunk" in the solarium aboard the Matanuska Alaska ferry.

Less than an hour later the ship has picked up speed and made headway through the sound to the more open areas of the huge waterway, and I notice several gigantic tankers anchored here and there, yet still leaving lots of sea room for everyone. It’s a cloudy and overcast cool day, with temps in the low 50’s just now and a slight drizzle “spitting” now and again. As dusk approaches and we sail north into the night, past Vancouver to starboard and into the Strait of Georgia running east of Vancouver Island, the sea air becomes brisk and the temps drop into the lower 40’s.

Darkness is falling now, and except for a few soft lights here and there in the solarium ceiling, the only other light is the soft orange glow of the metal heat lamps suspended throughout the ceiling of the enclosed area where we’ve set up our makeshift cabins and combination sleeping areas. I’m not sure if the heating system in the solarium is handled manually or automatically, but it seems the warmth radiating from the lamps above continues to increase a few degrees throughout the night, as the temperatures outside the walls inches lower into the upper 30’s. At one point I actually found myself too warm in my sleeping bag, and was glad I had stowed a cotton sheet and slept a good portion of the remainder of the night under that alone.

Area surrounding Bellingham, Washington (near San Juan Islands).

Darkness has enveloped the stern of the ship which is not lit on this deck, and as I look aft at our present location, I see only the sparse lights of the small communities which line the starboard side of the ferry as we make our way north. The only sounds are the steady low rumble of the engines reverberating throughout the ship, and the quiet voices of a few people chatting nearby.

So far everyone has taken whatever cell phone calls they make outside to the stern of the boat where the wind will carry away the sound of their voice aft and off the ship, or around the corner on the other side of the glass bulkhead and along the rail. There’s no smoking allowed in any public areas, so anyone who smokes must do it at the very end of the ship along the stern, since the smoke will simply blow off the back of the boat harmlessly to anyone nearby.

The solarium while we're under way - most people have chosen their spots for the 3-day trip.

There are about 20 of us in the open-air deck on the uppermost deck of the Matanuska ferry, and even though it’s pretty early most people seem to be settling in for the night. The late20-early30-something guy in front of me is watching “300”, some type of video about that time period apparently from what I can see over the top of his head as he lays in his lawn chair in his sleeping bag. As he started it he mentioned what he was about to watch and invited me to watch it with him if I wanted. The lady next to me, who’s probably in her 50’s, has just come in from smoking a cigarette and is sitting quietly reading a pocket-sized Bible. Two guys who appear to be in their mid-twenties near the forward part of the sleeping area are sitting in their respective “bunks” and talking quietly. A couple in their early 30’s are putting up a tent on the stern portion of the top deck which is uncovered and open for tent camping. There’s a group of 4 or 5 men, ages somewhere between 40 and 60, on the other side of the deck (starboard side) – who have obviously done this before because I’ve been watching them bring in coolers and boxes of food and they have sort of a floating tailgating party going on over there (but quietly and respectfully to everyone else). It seems most everyone brings food of their own and avoids buying it on board – perhaps because this type of travel option attracts those either on a tight budget or who are very thrifty with their money. There’s an older couple, I’d say mid-60’s, who have set up their chairs side-by-side at the very edge of the covered area with the best view (in daylight at least), but also with the least heat since they are under the last heater and more exposed to the open deck only a few feet from their heads. Matt is sorting through his things and arranging his sleeping bag and makeshift pillow for the night. The others appear to be in other parts of the ship – perhaps the cafeteria or the bar, with only three non-restricted decks there aren’t that many places to go.

Another view of the surrounding land as we're underway on the first night. As night fell the weather turned cool and rainy.

My “berth” is located on the port side near the bulkhead for at least a bit of perceived privacy from one side, and my view through the windows at my head are of the sea and islands beyond. As people drift in and out and gradually retire to their sleeping bags for the night, things become mostly quiet, except for the occasional disruptions from one young man who doesn’t seem to realize how far his voice carries, a typical scenario with a group this large. For the most part however, everyone is quietly reading or sleeping or just enjoying the ride, as we sail on through the night on the calm and cold waters of the northern Pacific inland waterway.