There be whales here!

This weekend one of our group up here wanted to take a cruise to see whales and this sounded like a fun idea. We found a three hour "wildlife" cruise out of the city of Seward for $60 per person. Not exactly the cheapest thing ever, but still not too bad. We decided to make a full day trip out of it and see the city of Seward, another popular Alaskan destination. So, this Saturday morning we headed out.

Seward is on the eastern shore of the Kenai Peninsula, so the first half our drive was retracing last weekend's drive down Turnagain Arm and through the Kenai Mountains on the Kenai Peninsula. This time, we took the road to Seward instead of Homer.
I really don't think that the drive down to Seward is that spectacular, but it is one of those "Alaska Scenic Byways," so I suppose it must be something scenic? You stay in the mountains and drive through a lot of trees, but I don't think that these mountains are as scenic as most of the other mountains in Alaska. But that's just me. One of the guys who was on this trip with me thought that the drive was spectacularly scenic. I suppose it all depends on the perspective. Since I was driving, I didn't take any pictures.

We got into Seward around 11 AM. It's only 130 miles from Anchorage to Seward and the speed limit is 55 or 65 for most of the way. Because of this, I don't understand why all of the guidebooks say that the drive is estimated to be around 3 hours. It took us 2 hours and 15 minutes. Seward has about 3700 people and sits at the end of Resurrection Bay, which is more off the Gulf of Alaska than off of Prince William Sound, but it's pretty darn close to Prince William Sound. The city is divided into two sections--the harbour tourist area and the downtown tourist area. We parked in the harbour tourist area, since that was where the cruise would depart, at a public use parking lot that charged $5 per day. The harbour area reminded me a lot of Homer, though without the quaintness of being out on a sand spit.
As you can see, the marine layer was in and the skies were all cloudy, but it was still rather warm with temperatures in the upper 60s. I will say that I did like Seward's Tsunami Evacuation Signs more than Homer's. Seward's signs include a stylized stick-figure man charging up a hillside ahead of the angry monster wave.
We ate lunch at a local restaurant, where for the first time I saw cod being served as a main fish dish in addition to halibut. Seward is still known as a major halibut fishing area, but apparently there are some kinds of Pacific cod in the nearby waters and I was able to enjoy a fish and chips lunch. We then walked the mile down the road to the downtown tourist area.
Downtown Seward is like that typical-looking "historic" downtown, with the quaint storefronts, advertising local products and souvenirs. I bought a shirt that says "Seward, Alaska" on it a one store. I am continually surprised at, with all of the local pride, how difficult it is at many of these gift shops to find shirts that have the name of the city on them. I can understand that it's probably more cost-effective for some huge screen printing shirt company in Anchorage to make a bunch of "Alaska" shirts and distribute them everywhere, but I want to wear a shirt that reflects the locality, the city I visited, as opposed to just the state. Anyhow, we also stopped at a local museum and spent about an hour looking at relics and photos describing the history of Seward.

I should point out that, had I not visited the (in my mind) somewhat similar tourist/fishing city of Homer the weekend before, I would have been a lot more excited about Seward--it's a very charming town with a rich history. Take, for example, this mountain right behind downtown.
This photo was taken earlier in the day when the clouds were still around. The mountain is called Mount Marathon, and every 4th of July they host a footrace up and down the mountain. This tradition started back in the early 1900s as a bar bet between two guys where one bet the other that he couldn't run to the top of Mount Marathon and back in less than an hour. So the best was taken and it ended up taking 1 hour and 3 minutes that first time for the runner to get to the top of the mountain and back. This race has expanded to include a whole field of competitors, who run, stumble, fall and crash their way up and down the mountain every Fourth of July. The current records are around 40 minutes now for the entire trip. It apparently takes the best runners 30 minutes to get up the mountain, but only 10 to get down--that's how fast they're moving. It's not uncommon for people to be all bruised and bloody at the end because of them falling on the way a few times. This is a major event in Seward every year and their Fourth of July celebrations as a whole draw hundreds of people every year. So, this is a town with a lot of life to it.

There are also more things to see in the area, like the Exit Glacier near town. This is a glacier in Kenai Fjords National Park that you can actually walk to the face of on a half-mile path from a parking area. There's also the Alaska Sea Life center, which is a large saltwater aquarium in downtown Seward that houses all the animals (except whales) you could find in the area, for those who don't want to go out on a cruise to spot them there. There are many unique restaurants and bars in the downtown area, and we didn't have a problem deciding on places to eat (for once). Seward is a good place to spend a day.

Anyhow, we had to be back at the docks by 3 PM to get on our cruise.
Our ship was called the "Orca Song," and at maximum it could hold about 75 people. On our cruise, there were maybe 40 some people, and they were a mix of elderly couples, some college students, families with small children...just about anyone. I really, really like being on boats. I know that one day I will own some sort of boat. I've always wanted to go out on a sailboat and learn to sail, but I've never really had the opportunity to do so, nor does anyone I know conveniently have a sailboat and know how to sail. That's something I really want to do, though. There were plenty of sailboats in the harbour, as well as many fishing boats and some yachts. I was delighted to see all these marine radars on the boats being used. But anyhow, the clouds were beginning to break and our cruise headed out on time at 3:30. We were soon literally leaving Seward in our wake and heading out into Resurrection Bay.
Apparently the bay is called Resurrection Bay because the Russians who first entered it did so on the Russian Orthodox Easter. We headed down the bay toward the open ocean rather quickly and soon saw our first wildlife--a pair of sea otters playing in the bay. Since I was on the top deck of the boat, and the otters were so small, it's difficult to make them out in the photo. But, they're there...
The otters were fun to watch for a few minutes, but then the boat continued on down the coast. Next we saw two bald eagles in the trees on the shore. You can see their white heads against the dark trees in this photo.
The boat then entered a small cove and we drove right up to the cliff face. The area was a major rookery for puffins and cormorants. I'm not sure which of those birds are in this photo, but you can see how many of them there are in the cracks in the rock. Though they look kind of like little penguins, they definitely are not. By this point, I was really wishing my camera had a better zoom ability.
We then headed out to the mouth of the bay where it meets the open Pacific Ocean. There was one small island left. At the top of this island is a small station that used to be a watch post during World War II when the military watched for any boats or submarines trying to enter Resurrection Bay.
At the base of this island was a large colony of Steller's Sea Lions. Steller's Sea Lions are an endangered species, so this was apparently a rare and treasurable photo opportunity. Our boat waited and watched off the shore of the island for a while, and you could hear the sea lions grunting and barking at one another. Very fun.
As you might be able to tell from the photos (aside from the fact that my camera cannot zoom at all), as we headed down the bay and out to the open ocean, we entered the marine layer again and the weather had turned cool and cloudy. We crossed the mouth of the bay and I was able to look out at the open Pacific Ocean. This is the first time I had ever been on a boat on the ocean, so it was an experience. Somewhere out there, 2500 miles away, is Hawaii...
At this point, our captain said that they had spotted two humpback whales up ahead, and the boat plowed in that direction. Everyone gathered at the bow of the boat to see what they could see. I went down to the lower deck to get a better view. We waited for several minutes, hoping the whales would come up again. And they did. First we could see the spray from their breathing...
We soon learned (from our captain) that it looked like we had found a mother humpback whale and her calf. We next saw the characteristic humped back of one of the whales.
Then the two whales resurfaced very near to the boat. The younger whale decided to roll on its back. You can see its white fin in this photo. The mother whale's back is also there.
Then the younger whale lifted its tail out of the water in a classic shot. This photo was a chance happening, but I'm glad I was able to get it.
After this dive, the whales disappeared for several minutes. We thought they had gone and the boat turned to head back into the bay. I happened to be on the ocean side of the boat for this, and everyone was congratulating everyone else on seeing the whales. Then, there was a huge explosion a little distance away...and the mother whale leaped completely out of the water...
Which was followed by a huge splash...
Just spectacular. There were cheers on board the boat. I'm so glad I was able to see that, and that the point of us going on this cruise was fulfilled. Having seen what we all came to see, the boat turned back to Seward, this time following the western shore of the bay. We passed near the Bear Glacier which "empties" into the bay.
As we approached Seward, it was nearly 6:00. Apparently that's the time when a lot of the fishing charters come in. I felt like we were leading a full fleet back into the harbour...
Seward harbour is very scenic. We followed a sailboat through the breakwater. Once again, the maze and tangle of masts and ropes on all the ships reminded me of those puzzles I used to put together. It also reminded me of a poem we had once read in English class in high school--the Idea of Order at Key West by Wallace Stevens. It includes a stanza that goes,

"...tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night... "

This scene just reminded me of all that as we returned in the evening. It wasn't quite "night", but still...
Those few clouds were all that remained of the cloudiness that had been around all day. The sunshine was welcome after all those hours out on the ocean. We got back in at 6:30 and found an Italian restaurant for dinner. After that, I mailed another round of postcards and we drove back into Anchorage. The drive back was rather uneventful, as most of the other people slept on the way.

Homer Bound

It's been several days since I last posted, mostly because I've been busy at work putting together details of a presentation and haven't had time to do much exploring. This Saturday changed that routine, as some of our group (including to me) wanted to head down south and drive down the Kenai Peninsula to the city of Homer, Alaska, which is well-known for being a scenic and "Alaskan" locale.
This map below shows the Kenai Peninsula, which is a large area to the south of Anchorage. It's bounded on the south by the open Pacific Ocean, Prince William Sound to the east, the Cook Inlet to the west, and almost completely on the north by a deep bay off of the Cook Inlet to the south of Anchorage called Turnagain Arm.
Only a small bit of land connects the Kenai (pronounced like the words "keen-eye") Peninsula with the rest of Alaska. There is one highway from Anchorage to the peninsula, called the Seward Highway. This runs along the northern shore of Turnagain Arm (which I will describe in another blog entry) and down into the Kenai Mountains which, in turn, run down the eastern half of the peninsula. From there, the highway splits into the Sterling Highway which heads west to the Cook Inlet shore and down through several towns to the city of Homer and the other extension (which is still called the Seward Highway) that goes to the city of Seward on Prince William Sound to the east. Homer is some 220 miles from Anchorage by road and it takes 4.5-5 hours to drive there. This meant going there and back would be an all-day trip.

South of Turnagain Arm, the road enters the Kenai Mountains. These are more or less a subrange of the Chugach Mountains, except for the fact that the Kenais are lower and run north-south to the Chugachs' east-west.
Though they're not a very "spectacular" mountain range, the Kenai Mountains do provide a few sweeping vistas. I'm surprised that the road, which crosses the entire range, has very little in the way of hills or elevation gain--it stays relatively level. The mountains give way to dense forests in the foothills as you head further west. Two rivers in this area--the Kenai River and the Russian River--are very, very popular fishing locations. In fact, fly fishing on the Kenai and Russian Rivers is one of the biggest tourist attractions in Alaska. Several local companies along this road advertise fishing tours and outfitting. There are several lakes on the peninsula, too, including Kenai Lake (everything is named Kenai...) and Skilak Lake. The Sterling Highway actually crosses Kenai Lake at a place called Coopers Landing.
I was surprised how busy traffic was on the road, particularly around the Coopers Landing area. Then again, what better way to spend the 4th of July than going camping and fishing. We soon exited the mountains and went across the large, tree-covered plain that is the western Kenai Peninsula. We passed through the small town of Sterling, for which the highway is named. The highway, though, goes right on through Sterling to the city of Soldotna. Soldotna is the seat of the Kenai Peninsula Borough and has around 7,000 residents, making it a fairly large city by Alaskan standards. I seemed a lot like any other town you'd find anywhere else in the US, complete with fast food and chain stores. Of course, being way out on that plain and the Cook Inlet shore and far from the mountains made the backdrop very different from what we're used to in Alaskan cities. This made it all the more normal-looking...
We detoured north to the neighboring (and almost as large) city of Kenai (yes, everything is still named Kenai) since that's where the "Anchorage" weather radar is located, and I wanted a photo of it for my presentation. Though it had taken us almost two hours from Anchorage to get this far, most of that drive was to head far east and then far back west again to get around Turnagain Arm. As such, the Soldotna-Kenai area isn't really that far from Anchorage as the crow flies. We managed to find the radar and also spent half an hour bypassing downtown Kenai where they had their Fourth of July parade going on. We stopped for lunch at an Arby's and then continued south along the coast.

We started being able to see mountains across the Cook Inlet. These mountains were some of the great volcanoes of Alaska that make up the Aleutian Range. Whenever you hear about volcanoes erupting and causing problems in Alaska, it's usually one of these ones. As many of you know, for the last few months, concern has centered around a volcano called Mount Redoubt that briefly erupted in March and has been steaming ever since. Since this is such a well-known volcano (and because it was actually steaming and semi-active) we wanted to get a photo of it. I had heard that the Clam Gulch State Recreation Area offered good views of the mountain across the inlet, so when we came to that area on the highway I turned in and we walked down to the beach. There, across the bay, was the Mount Redoubt Volcano. To us it was as plain as ever and rather vivid. However, it was a somewhat hazy day and, to the camera, it didn't look like anything much. There is a massive, steaming volcano in the center of this photo:
Can you see it? Don't worry if you can't--I really can't either. So I fiddled around with my limited photo editing tools and adjusted the contrast and the color levels and whatnot and this was the best I could do:
I'm sure it could be made better, but that's the best I'm going to be able to give you. At least you can somewhat make out the volcano and the steam plume rising up. To us standing on the beach, it was as clear as day. I don't know what my camera was picking up, but it did not like the haze. The beach itself was made up of a very fine particulate sand that was actually mostly volcanic ash.
There were many small stones mixed in, but for the most part it was all volcanic ash. Volcanic ash isn't really like "ash" as we normally think about it--it's small pieces of rock that make a very, very fine and soft sand. Imagine getting tons of sand dumped on your house or car and you'll get an idea of what a volcanic ash fall is like. It's a very common thing to find in Alaska, and you can see evidence of recent volcanic activity everywhere. Tons of ash were released into the air during the March eruption of Mount Redoubt and you can see what likes like dirty patches on the ice and snow near the tops of many mountains in the Kenai Range and beyond. These patches are from the ashfall that spread out over the area from that eruption. There are entire seas of sand dunes in parts of Alaska that are all volcanic ash. Quite the sight. To see what an ashfall looks like, I can direct you to http://pafc.arh.noaa.gov/stories/2009/webcam-homer-Apr04-1.html. This is an animation of webcam images taken from near Homer on the day of the eruption and compiled into a Flash animation by someone at the Anchorage forecast office. The full write up (with more webcam images and some other satellite and radar views of the eruption) can be found at http://pafc.arh.noaa.gov/stories/viewer.php?pId=Redoubt&year=2009. In the first video that I linked to, the sun comes up at the beginning and there's snow already on the ground. The day continues normally until around the time 1530Z when the volcano erupts. This sent an ash cloud tens of thousands of feet into the air which then moved over Homer. If you go frame by frame you can see the pitch black and completely opaque ash cloud move over the city, totally blocking out the sun. Then, all the ash just falls out at once in a big "whoosh" almost. It almost looks like a very brief, heavy snowfall--you can see on the roofs how before they were mostly clear, but after they are covered with white poweder. Then the cloud moves on or dissipates and the city is left with what looks like a fresh dusting of snow--but it's that sand-like volcanic ash. Pretty amazing.
The volcano didn't re-erupt while were there, and no one was that concerned about it. A lot of people had driven their trucks out onto the beach and were spending the 4th of July there. It was a very pleasant beach--the volcanic ash sand was very fine and soft and the water wasn't that cold either. I wouldn't have minded spending more time there. But, it was already nearly 3 in the afternoon and we still weren't at Homer. So we moved on.
The road continued south, weaving close to and away from the coast. I haven't done much coastal driving in my many driving adventures, so I rather enjoyed this. We passed through the small town of Ninilchik. Despite having a weather station that I've been using in some of my studies, Ninilchik is home to the Kenai Peninsula Regional Fairgrounds and Rodeo, as well as an old Russian Orthadox Church that has been around since the time when Alaska was Russian territory. We didn't see the church, but many people take a small trip to stop and see it. An hour south of Clam Gulch we got to the top of the bluffs overlooking Kachemak Bay and the city of Homer. This was the view.
Once again, the haziness contributes to the washed-out look of the background. The Kenai Mountains, which had been running along the eastern, opposite coast of the peninsula from us, swing across the southern end of the Kenai Peninsula just south of Homer. The body of water between the bluffs we were on top of and the Kenai Mountains out there is called Kachemak Bay. To the right of this photo is the end of the Cook Inlet and the open waters of the Pacific Ocean. On a clear day, looking in that direction usually gives good views of the Iliamna and Mount Augustine volcanoes. We could actually see them through the haze and I took picures, but try as I might I can't cut through the haze on the photos. So we're left with the city of Homer and its "spit" which is a large sandbar 5 miles long sticking out into Kachemak Bay. You can just see it out in the water in the center of this photo. That's where we were headed.
The city of Homer has a reputation as one of the quaintest, most "Alaskan" cities you will find. It is known as a haven for "hippies" and supposedly supports many arts colony sorts of establishments. It also bills itself as the "Halibut Fishing Capital of the World." The father of one of my roommates, who had been to Alaska before, said that Homer was "better than Denali (Mount McKinley)" as an attraction. A lot of people speak highly of the town. I'll give it a lot for its scenic beauty and overall pleasantness. It didn't seem very eccentric to me. But we headed into town. Downtown Homer is actually on the mainland and it's much like the downtown of any resort town with its shops and local groceries and restaurants. If we had had more time, I would have liked to explore that area more. However, we drove straight through to the start of the Spit.
Starting down the Spit, we drove two miles on what amounts to a causeway with water on both sides. The tide was low when we were there so it looked very muddy and the smell of dead fish was quite prominent. After those two miles, we got into the buildings, stores and docks at the end of the spit. These demand some detail, so there will be several pictures. First we drove all the way to the end of the Spit, which is, by most accounts the "end" of the paved highway system in North America. You can go no further south in Alaska and no further west on (paved) roads. There is a resort at the end of the road fittingly called "Lands End".
We parked near there and started walking back down the Spit. First thing we came across was the massive Homer harbour with all of its boats. I seem to remember putting together many jigsaw puzzles that looked like this...
While many of these boats are the property of people who have vacation homes in Homer, a lot are commercial fishing boats and many belong to fishing charter companies, of which there are many located right on the Spit. You can call ahead or come out early in the day and get on an all-day halibut fishing trip with one of the groups there. They'll provide all the equipment and explain to you what to do. Most will also offer to clean any fish you catch as well, so at the end of the day you can walk away with fresh packages of halibut fillets from what you caught that day. In fact, by the time we got there late in the afternoon, many of the charters were beginning to come in and the fish cleaning process had begun. Here you can see the workers outside one of these charter places preparing to clean the day's catch of halibut.
Halibut are large fish--most people catch ones around 30-50 pounds, but they can get up to over 200 pounds and be up to 7 feet long. Homer has an ongoing competition every year to see who can catch the largest halibut that year. The winner gets something like $30,000 dollars. Everyone is eligible, so any time any of the charters come back with an extremely large catch, they immediately bring it in to weigh it before it starts drying out. Because Alaskan law defines the "catcher" of a fish to be the person who is operating the pole that first hooks the fish and not the person who actually brings it in, there can be interesting circumstances--like how recently a 200+ pound halibut was "caught" by a 6 year old girl. All she had to do was hook it and it was hers--before three or four other adults took over trying to haul the thing in. Lots of fishing stories are made here, I'm sure...

Also, in case you were wondering, all of these buildings on such a narrow strip of sand are a risk from tsunamis or large waves, which can occur from the earthquakes up here. Thus, in case people were unsure where to go with only one road on the spit, that road is indeed a "Tsunami Evacuation Route." I enjoy the stylized monstrous wave on the sign...
As I said, the one street is lined with lots of charter fishing "huts," but also several restaurants and gift stores. Here we are looking down the spit towards the mainland. It's rather narrow and most of these buildings are supported by stilts on the water side.I draw your attention to the lighthouse building further down the spit. This place is called the Salty Dawg Saloon and is the "most famous" or "most photographed" building in Homer. So they say.
The saloon is a bar, of course, but it is made up of a mishmash of old buildings from Homer's history. The lighthouse, with its new shingles on the outside, used to be a water tower for the city way back when. The smaller building to the front apparently was once the post office, and later a school, mining outfitter, fishing cabin, and a bunch of other things before it was moved and attached to the saloon. There are two other small buildings attached on the back side as well with their own history. The ceilings are very low inside and it was completely full when we got there. The inside is covered with a lot of one-dollar bills that are all signed by various people and pinned to the walls. As the story goes, once several years ago a fisherman who was having a drink at the bar took out a dollar bill, signed it, and pinned it to the wall saying that a friend of his was coming in later and he wanted to buy this friend a drink but he had to go, so this was for his friend's drink. Since then it has been tradition for all visitors to go to the saloon, sign a dollar bill and pin it to the wall. Unfortunately, there were those in our group who didn't want to go in and get a drink and do all of this, so we moved along.
There are lots of little shops like that one that are really no more than small shacks. That one happened to have a group of musicians out front playing sea shanties. This was, I think, the closest we came to radical, hippy sort of people we are told are in the city. We're convinced that, based on all of the stories we've heard about there being all of these quaint locals, that they were just all in hiding for the fourth of July or something. Anyhow, there are scattered collections of these buildings all up and down the end of the Spit. Like I said, most are on stilts on the ocean side.
In between the collections of buildings are rows and rows and rows of RVs and tents on the side of the road. Apparently it's a really big thing for people to "camp out" on the Homer Spit. I suppose there is a certain novelty to that.
We got ice cream at this one shop and I bought post cards in another. Only one person in our group was really hungry, and she half-heartedly suggested stopping at this restaurant. I was very, very pleased that no one else was in the mood to stop and eat there.
However, we had two people who had come off of working midnight shifts at the forecast office the night before and people also wanted to get back that night to see the Anchorage fireworks. So, we didn't stick around much longer. We headed back off the spit into downtown Homer, which looks like this as you come in from the spit. Like I said, a very scenic, pleasant little town on the bluffs. I would have liked to explore more and see what that whole area of town outside the Spit was like, but we needed to be heading back.
The drive back went a lot faster than the drive going out, mostly because we only stopped once for food and gas and everyone seemed more talkative on the way back. I rather enjoyed the trip, even if it was rather whirlwind. I also enjoyed being out of sight of the mountains for a while. I hadn't realized how accustomed I had become to them and how consciously different the landscape seems without them. I have lived pretty much all of my life out of sight of mountains and it just feels slightly more right to me. So, heading back we went though all of the towns we went through going out, only in reverse (there's only one road, after all). We entered the Kenai Mountains again and returned to Anchorage by 11 PM. The fireworks were supposed to be at midnight, but everyone fell asleep anyhow, so all I did was do some reading in my room and listen to the booms that were pleasantly far away.

Ice, Water and Beer

Today I had to check out of my hotel in Juneau by noon, and leaving my hotel means bringing all of my stuff with me and forfeiting their shuttle to the airport. Since my flight didn't leave until after 6 PM, this left an awful long time without that hotel safety net. I still had things to check off on my list of things to do in Juneau, though, so I checked out around 10 AM and trusted to the good fortune and providence that had sustained me so far on this trip to carry me through to its end.

First on my list of things to see was the Alaskan Brewing Company, which is located in the Lemon Creek neighborhood, a small valley halfway between the residential Mendenhall Valley area where my hotel was and the downtown Juneau area. This was well beyond walking distance and it was another overcast, rainy day in the Mendenhall Valley. I decided to try using the Juneau city bus system. I obtained a map from the hotel lobby and attempted to figure out. Ostensibly, the system is very simple--it runs in a loop around the Mendenhall Valley area and then into downtown Juneau. And that's it. Fares were $1.50 no matter where you were going. Very simple. I found the nearest bus stop and got on.

I've never been a big fan of bus systems. Sometimes, in Norman, when I'm looking to go around and see things without having to drive, I'll take one of the city busses around. I used to use that as my main transportation before I had a car. I met a lot of interesting people on those busses, people who would just start talking about their entire life to you without asking. As such, I feel like I have to be in a particular mood to ride the bus. I wasn't really in that mood this morning, so I wasn't looking forward to it. The bus I got on was very, very efficiently run and there was such a high turnover of people, no one had time to talk about anything. Of course, I didn't know where exactly I needed to stop, and the map wasn't clear. I took a chance and got off at a stop where many other people got off just past Lemon Creek. My fortune held and the next cross street I came to was the right one to turn down to get to the brewery. It was only two blocks away.
The Alaskan Brewery is the largest regional brewer in Alaska, and its beers are more popular than any other mainstream on-tap beer in the state. All of their beer is brewed at their Juneau brewing facility here, back in the hills of the Tongass rainforest. It was lightly raining out when I go there, which kind of added to the liquid atmosphere. I have never toured a brewery or winery or anything like that before, though (at least up here) I have been to many brewhouse pubs and restaurants. I've started collecting glasses with he brewing company logos on them, maybe to outfit a wet bar in my future home one day or something like that. I just like that kind of item to collect. Anyway, I decided to take advantage of my 21 years of age and go on the tour of this place.
Their "tour" didn't exactly go through the brewing part, but they did have a gift shop and "gallery" room where we got a 20 minute presentation by one of the brewers about the history of the brewery and why their beers are so special. Small digression here. Way back in January when I first flew to Anchorage for my site visit, I had just turned 21. I flew Alaska Airlines on my way up and our flight was delayed due to some refueling issue. To make up for that delay, the flight crew announced that, for their beverage service, they would not charge for any alcoholic beverages that people ordered. One thing that Alaska Airlines "proudly" offers is small bottles of Alaskan Amber beer, which is the flagship beer of the Alaskan Brewing Company. On my flight up, I was sitting next to a native Yupik Eskimo who was a doctor of some kind, and he ordered an Alaskan Amber. At the time, having just turned 21 the week before, I was still leery about ordering alcoholic things so I opted for a tomato juice. However, this man insisted to me that while I was in Alaska, I had to try an Alaskan Amber at some point, because it was such a local staple and, according to him, amazingly good. Every time I went out to eat in Anchorage on that trip there were always people around me orderin Alaskan Ambers or Alaskan IPAs or Alaskan Oatmeal Stouts...I began to realize how big of a deal this was. So when I returned for this summer, one of my earliest goals (now having had more experience with the different varieties of beers) was to try this Alaskan Amber and soon after I got here I bought six bottles from the store. And the beer was fantastic--it's by far my new favorite. It still retains the hoppy flavor that comes out so strongly in the craft beers, but at the same time I find it very drinkable, with or without food. I really, really do enjoy it. So, this added to my excitement at visiting the Alaskan Brewing Company.
Now that the stage is better set, I enjoyed their little presentation and asked several questions about their fermentation processes and whatnot. Having tried to ferment wine myself in a closet at college, I was aware of some of these challenges, even if wine is an entirely different concept. Of course, the highlight of this kind of brewery visit is the free beer. They have a little bar in their gift shop area with every variety of beer that the brewery produces, and they hand you a small sampling glass when you come in, encouraging you to return to the bar many times to sample their wares. I tried the Alaskan Summer Ale (which tasted like a lighter version of the Alaskan Amber to me...), the White (which is a wheat ale--definitely had a more fruity flavor) and the India Pale Ale IPA (which was an odd combination of bitter and slightly fruity?). I'm not a big one for stouts or darker beers, and after having one of their roasted malt beers described to me as, "It's like drinking liquid campfire smoke..." I was glad to stick to my lighter beers. The amber is still my favorite, though.
In their gallery where they gave their presentation, they had bottles from craft breweries in "every state," and I was eager to explore this (as recently finding these craft brewers has started to become a hobby of mine). There were several from Illinois, a ton from Wisconsin, and none from Oklahoma. (I do know that COOP Ale Works opened in March in Oklahoma City as I believe the first craft brewery in the state of Oklahoma...I'm looking forward to sampling their stuff...). At the gift shop, since this was a big deal for me, I bought two large pint glasses with the Alaskan logo on them, two smaller sample glasses and a set of coasters. I think it would be fun one day to have a little wet bar in the corner of the basement of my house and stock it with a few bottles of all these different kinds of local craft brews from around the country. It would be even more fun if I could serve these brews in the actual glasses I bought when visiting the brewery... But that's just a whimsical plan for the future. Anyhow, if anyone out there has any suggestions for any good craft breweries, by all means let me know--I'm finding exploring them to be fun. And Alaska is as good of a place to start as any. Alaskan beers are only distributed in Alaska and in basically every state from the Rocky Mountains west, so locally you won't be able to find them. This is kind of sad, but at the same time adds to the uniqueness.

Anyhow, after that tour (and with more beer than I planned on drinking at 1 PM), I took the bus back into the Mendenhall Valley loop to find the Juneau Weather Forecast Office where I was supposed to meet with someone to discuss their radar usage for my project. The Forecast Office is located on the same property as the National Forestry Service's headquarters for the Tongass National Forest. As such, the Forest Service dictated how the Weather Forecast Office's external appearance had to be. For this reason, the Juneau office is one of the most pleasant-looking forecast offices I have ever seen.
Most Weather Forecast Offices (WFOs) are white brick or white siding with blue, Culvers-like roofs (to echo the blue and white logo of their parent organization, NOAA, furher representing the sea and the sky), but this one is all wood siding with a green roof (to echo the trunks and leaves of trees, like one would expect from the Forest Service). I will say that I found it somewhat odd that the Forest Service, dedicated to preserving and maintaining our National Forests, would want buildings that were covered with wooden siding. But...who am I to judge. There are several trails that lead from the Forest Service's headquarters out into the National Forest, and apparently this is a major hiking trailhead for local hikers. However, none depart from the Forecast Office, as this sign that I though was AMAZING and unique out front indicated...
What other WFO is concerned with trailheads? There were a few people working that day, and I was quickly welcomed into their little fold. It has been amazing how accomodating all the people in these WFOs I've been visiting have been. They are all very interested in what I'm doing and quick to engage me in conversations about everything. I don't feel like I'm impinging on their time or that they feel like they have far better things to do than talk to me. On the contrary, they seem eager to have someone else to talk to. Maybe that's saying something about professional meteorologists... Anyhow, I also met their two summer interns, one who is a graduate student at Oklahoma named Richard who I had met while I was still in Oklahoma, and another who is one of my Anchorage roommate's best friends from college and is also a Hollings Scholar like me who will be doing her internship next semester. Once again, this feeling of belonging and community was really there. After an hour-long discussion about the local weather and how they use their radar, Richard and Andrea (the other intern) offered to drive me out to the Mendenhall Glacier in the WFO's government car and then on to the airport, all without my having asked. I had planned on taking the bus to the airport and hadn't even planned on seeing that glacier--luck and providence come through again!

We drove out to the Mendenhall Glacier, which is a major tourist attraction in the Juneau area. The glacier comes almost to the city limits and is one of the most accessable in the state. It's only about a mile and a half from the WFO and apparently the forecasters often go there on their lunch breaks. It also is amazingly crowded whenever the cruise ships were in and, remembering that I had seen three in the harbour yesterday, this proved to be true. But, anyhow, you park at the parking are and there's a large viewing platform to see...the glacier.
You're a lot closer to the glacier and it's a whole lot bigger than this photo makes it seem. There's a visitor's center on a small hill behind where I took this photo, and they have an elevated viewing deck there (with a roof over it...very important in this rainforest...), but it cost three dollars to go into the visitor's center, so we didn't enter. Richard and Andrea had been here many times before, so they knew a lot of the trails to get closer to the glacier and the lake. We headed down a few and I was able to get some good photos.
The glacier periodically calves off several very large and very blue icebergs into the lake below. The lake water was not as freezing cold as I thought it would be--maybe all the rainwater mixing in near the surface helped keep it warmer. But, however cold it was, it was cold enough to support these icebergs. They came in all shapes and sizes and were this very pleasant and rich shade of blue--more so than you can tell from the photograph. I'm told that this blue hue comes from the rock sediments that are compressed into the ice as the glacier grinds its way down the mountain. These particles help scatter the reflected blue light better, so it gives a very bluish hue. If you ever look at a river or stream that forms at the end of a glacier, often the waer will also have a blue, milky color. In free-flowing water, those rock sediments are called "glacial flour" and, because of their presence, it's apparently not advisable to drink water freshly melted off a glacier. You'll end up with a mouthfull of rock and sand. Remember this the next time you see an adverisement for "Pure Glacial Water...". It had to be filtered first.
There was a very powerful-feeling waterfall next to the glacier that just seemed to pop out of the rainforest up the hill. Lots of people from cruise ships ventured out and got very, very close to this waterfall. It was very refreshing to be near it, though, as it gave off a spray that was, for some reason, far more pleasant than the light rain that continued to fall. From the base of the waterfall, we were as close as we could get to the glacier.
Because I had my flight to catch, we couldn't stay long, otherwise I would have explored more and taken more photos. Since I was with a few friends now, I finally did manage to have a photo of me taken while I was in Juneau...
Richard drove me to the airport and arrived two hours before my flight was scheduled to leave. Right on time if you're planning to fly out of O'Hare. Way, way, way too early if you're planning to fly out of Juneau. I was sitting in their gate area, which is probably the size of a banquet hall and has only 5 gates (all Alaska Airlines), and was the only person in the gate area for at least 45 minutes. There weren't even any airlines people working any desks or anything...I was literally the only person there. Then, another family of three arrived and a business traveller, so now there were five of us. And the five of us were the only people waiting for our flight until ten minutes until boarding time when 20 people suddenly showed up all at once. I guess you don't have to worry about waiting in lines to check in or get through security in Juneau (I certainly didn't). Our flight was immediately cleared for departure and we arrived back in Anchorage early. I wish all flying was like that. Though I suppose growing up flying out of O'Hare I've only seen the worst of air travel and assumed all air travel was like that--it can only get better, right?

Anyhow, I enjoyed this Juneau trip immensely and definitely recommend Juneau as a vacation stop for anyone who wants to go there. It was kind of odd landing in Anchorage and feeling like I had arrived back "home"...in Anchorage. But, I'm happy to be back as well.