"There and Back Again" - an eccentric Ryndam Alaska log, July 31-Aug 14

[fann1sh]

Thanks Ruth.

 

Too many typos I see now, too late to edit *sigh*

 

I promise I'll be back tomorrow with something lighter, and it will stay that way through my disembarkation and summary.

[Two@Sea]

Sometimes a piece of writing touches a part of your soul, and churns a myriad of conflicting emotions.

This was such a piece.

 

Thank you for the glimpse into a part of the Alaska cruise I hadn't experienced before.

 

As per usual, Ruth, you have said exactly what I was thinking... only MUCH better than I ever could.

[IRL_Joanie]

Thanks Ruth.

 

Too many typos I see now, too late to edit *sigh*

 

I promise I'll be back tomorrow with something lighter, and it will stay that way through my disembarkation and summary.

 

 

Fannish, yesterday I told RuthC that I need to see pictures to show me things that are being described. NOT The Great Land!! OMG! I can see it so clearly just from reading what was written from your heart and soul. This was an amazing read, and though I can feel the deep feelings you had in the writing of it, I also saw the stark and barren beauty of it!!!

 

Amazing read today and I cannot wait for the next installment!

[c-legs]

Thank you for a superb piece of writing.:cool::)

Cheers

[Soundsgreat6]

Fannish, I have tears in my eyes, Tears of joy and sorrow, of hope and Renewal. I also felt the way you did on my Train trip. a few years ago now. I could never hope to put in in words has beautiful, even if stark, has you just did.

I thank you from the bottom of my soul for this.

 

I also have very much enjoyed your seance of humour in your other posts.

 

Do you have anything published? If not you should.

 

Cheers! Dave

[KLLund]

We will be taking that train trip next week .. and now I will be looking at the scenery with this in mind. I am sure it will enhance my already memorable experience .. and

I thank you for that .. and for this wonderful diary of a lovely trip. You are truly a talented writer (are you sure it is your friend that is published???)

[Kween Karen]

Wonderful...just WONDERFUL.....that's all I can say!

[goody1]

You are truly a talented writer (are you sure it is your friend that is published???)

 

Funny, I was thinking the same thing when I was reading the review. A very descriptive piece of writing. Confess all Fann1sh, are you the professional writer?

[fann1sh]

You are truly a talented writer (are you sure it is your friend that is published???)

 

Funny, I was thinking the same thing when I was reading the review. A very descriptive piece of writing. Confess all Fann1sh, are you the professional writer?

 

Very flattering, thank you. But I'm a true amateur - writing for the love of words. I've written unpaid columns for local papers. Even then, I had trouble churning out copy in time for my deadline.

 

Which is one of many things which separate me from the pros. I write when I feel like it - not daily, with discipline, and to pay the bills.

 

Blogging is a keen way for amateurs to have their egos stroked. Professional writers seldom get much positive feedback. When they do, it's often years later, for something they wish they could rewrite and improve, and usually for the "wrong" reasons. As in: "I just love the names you give your characters!" Huh?

 

I have professional writer friends and acquaintances, and attend conventions and writing forums.

 

For a glimpse of at the tough world of professional fiction, take a look at this link:

 

http://queryshark.blogspot.com/

 

Previously unpublished authors must find literary agents to sell their work. To interest agents, writers send query letters. Most such letters get pro forma rejections. Janet Reid's blog is a brutal "show and tell" of how to get an agent interested.

[oliverbc]

It was so beautiful I made certain my husband read it. Then I phoned our friends in French River who wondered if they should take this excursion. I have a feeling they are signed up by now. We have taken this trip before so will pass.You are a jewel. What does fannish represent. Oh by the way. My husband is from Scotland so no explanations were needed for bairn. i wish we were meeting on our trip.

[fann1sh]

DAY 12 – TUESDAY, AUGUST 11 – JUNEAU

 

Everyone has stereotypes they carry in their head about places or the people who live there. The great thing about travel is it wipes away those stereotypes, and fills your head with real images of real places and people. The last thing I expected this late in my Alaska cruise was to meet a stereotype.

 

Since the weather for my second stop in Juneau was a lot more typical than the first (overcast, clouds threatening rain, temperatures around 55F/13C when we docked) I was glad I'd already done my “fair weather touring”. Today my objective was Mendenhall Glacier.

 

I bought my Mighty Great Trips “Blue Glacier Express” ticket on the pier, boarded the bus, and met Dave. Dave was my driver, and looked like he was ready for a casting call for “Northern Exposure” as the Authentic Alaskan Eccentric. He sounded right for the part, with a disregard for grammar, but lots of attitude to make up for it. I didn't get close enough to smell him, because I afraid he might take his method acting too far.

 

Because Dave simply had to be hamming for the tourists. Scruffy unshaved face, slapdash clothes, abrasive attitude. This couldn't be real. Could it?

 

You've probably heard about the stuffed moose and bears that populate some Alaskan hillsides. The locals have a right to innocent payback for the way the tourists clutter up their towns in cruise season. Every resort area has it own ways of coping.

 

So, I leaned back, certain this archetypal curmudgeon was having fun at the cruise pax's expense. Instead of watching the scenery as the bus made its way towards Tongass National Forest, I listened to Dave rant. He ranted about government employees (or as he preferred to call them, “gang members”); he ranted about know-it-all cheechakos. He ranted about “rocket scientists”, and I started to tune him out. Then one of the passengers asked Dave a question, and all my preconceptions got knocked out the window. Dave's off the cuff reply summarized glacier mechanics and some general physics in a way more usually heard in a university classroom. O-kay....someone with a B.Sc. hamming for the tourists? Who claimed “rocket scientists” were trying to prove things anyone who lived here and used their eyes already knew.

 

Dave started in on beaver habitat building and how anyone who used their eyes knew that was connected with – sorry, no more time, everybody off the bus.

 

I thanked Dave, and tipped him, and still wasn't sure: had I just met an authentic Alaskan eccentric? Or just another Alaskan entertainer?

 

Opinions, anyone?

 

I made my way from the bus stop across the road, and down towards the Mendenhall lookout. Like so many other places I'd seen in pictures, I both recognized it, and was surprised by it. It was like meeting an actor you've seen on TV and thinking, “He's shorter than I expected.”

 

 

 

If my link works, the above is a panorama from the ramp leading up the the Mendenhall Visitor's Center. (If not, it's a couple of blank lines, so....) The glacier is an amazing site, but it in no way overwhelms the landscape. Beautiful, but not quite what I expected. Perhaps that has to do with the incredible rate at which the glacier is receding. The bergy bits it had shed recently were numerous, and somehow, a more impressive sight.

 

In the Visitor Center, I watched the film in the theater, about glacier formation, and the sources of Mendenhall. I also gained some insight into the fact the “shrubs” I'd seen a few miles beyond the White Pass summit the previous day were likely 50 or 60 year old Sitka Spruces. Genetically identical to the monsters that grew below the tree line, they were stunted by harsh conditions.

 

When the film ended, it seemed like most of the women in the audience headed exactly where I did: the ladies' room. The line was about 20 women deep, stretching far out the restroom door. We watched the guys breeze in and out of the men's convenience, and chatted about many things. I talked to one tiny woman, almost a head shorter than me, about bathrooms at baseball stadiums, and how a friend and I had hijacked a men's john at Tiger Stadium when the line for the ladies' was unbearable.

 

The germ of an idea glinted in her eye. I knew what she was thinking. “It won't work here,” I told her as I shook my head. “We don't have a lookout to tell us when it's 'all clear'.”

 

“Oh, yes we do. Haruka!” she bellowed. “Come over here, I need you!”

 

Haruka played lookout, and once the Men's was empty, I became door keeper. A very short line began to form at the door of the Men's as women breezed in and out of both restrooms. “Consider it a practical lesson in gender parity,” I told the disgruntled men who stood waiting.

 

“Huh?” This, from a woodsy looking guy.

 

“What it's like when you're a setter rather than a pointer.”

 

“Ah.”

 

"You go, girlfriend!” one woman called out.

 

The “sisters' revolt” didn't last longer than 5 minutes – probably half that. The men quickly reclaimed their territory, but I'd made a few new female friends.

 

I considered a walk down one of the paths to look at the vegetation near the glacier, I'd learned from the women in line that a megaship was due to cast off lines around 1 p.m. The buses back to the pier would soon be jam packed. Since Ryndam 's “all aboard” wasn't until 5:30 p.m., I could have stayed and waited for the congestion to clear. But, the idea of lunch, or even a cup of tea, sounded more appealing, so I headed to the bus stop to wait.

 

A bus pulled in as I got there. It wasn't a MGT blue bus, but a competing company's white bus.

 

Note to self: if I come back to Juneau, I won't get suckered into buying a round trip ticket at the pier. I'll buy a one way fare , so I can come back on whatever bus shows up at the stop first.

 

I considered my proud Scottish heritage, and the penny pinching ways my Grandfather Scott passed on to me....and got on the blasted white bus anyway.

 

As I bought my ($7? $8?) ticket, my bus driver teased me about the “inferior service” I must have gotten from the competitor.

 

“Say....do you know the other team's drivers?” I asked.

 

“Some,” he admitted.

 

"What's the deal with Dave?”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Ooooh, Dave.” He shot me a grin at me over his shoulder.

 

And that's absolutely all he'd say on the subject.

 

There was a furry object sitting on top a tip jar. Since my driver wouldn't talk about Dave, I had to ask about it.

 

"What the heck is that thing? Raccoon?”

 

"Raccoon? Where, where!” He mimed thrashing at imaginary vermin, and I thought he'd drive us off the road.

 

Okay, evidently NOT raccoon.

 

I gestured to his shaggy companion, and he tssked my ignorance. “That is a wolf pelt hat.”

 

My driver had killed the wolf himself, but it was his hunting partner who'd tanned the pelt, and made it into a Russian style hat with flaps. As an Itidarod volunteer, my driver had proudly worn it the previous year, as it was perfect for keeping your head warm in the worst winter weather.

 

Even if they're not all Authentic Alaskan Eccentrics, you meet the most interesting people in Alaska.

 

I gave my spare ticket for the blue bus to a stranger on the pier.

 

 

******************

 

That night was our second formal dinner night on the southbound leg. Roger, the middle school guidance counsellor, was excited about his first return visit to his birth city, Ketchikan. He'd convinced me to accompany him on a ship's own catamaran tour of Misty Fjords National Monument. Our table drank too much wine, stayed too late, and were the last out of the dining room – again.

[fann1sh]

I'm sorry the above pix which distorted the post so badly, and made it hard to read. Tried to edit it out, but I was too late.

 

OliverBC: "fann1sh" is really "fannish". I also have the CC identity under the correct spelling, but lost my password and...never mind. People who enjoy reading SF (science fiction, or speculative fiction, which includes fantasy) consider themselves "fans"; along with other individuals, they're members of "fandom". Wiki explains pretty well for anyone vaguely interested:

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fannish

 

I hope anyone who takes the White Pass & Yukon Railway doesn't do so solely because of my post. At least, not the "tundra" part of it. There's so much more to the excursion. Besides, very few trains go more than a hundred yards beyond the summit; we were the only train that day which did so. YMMV as to your impressions, too. My first reaction was, "There's an awful lot of ugly rubble from blasting the roadbed around here." It took a second, and third reaction for my feelings to sink in.

[papadave]

I was on the same trip and can't place your face, even though I played team trivia at least half of the 14 days and my daughter and I were on the winning team on the second day of the cruise. We (myself, my wife and 10 year old daughter) were also on the Renown 11:30 boat in Kenaii Fjord. Your words bring back memories from every day of the trip. This was our second 14 day HAL Alaska cruise in 2 years. We are already considering taking the trip again next summer.

 

We changed from fixed seating in 2008 to open seating in 2009 because of a situation which mirrors your first week in the dining room, except ours last for two weeks. During the first week our table mates missed the ship in Vancouver and caught up in Ketchikan -- missing the first two dinners. After that, they showed up in varying configurations until the week ended. For the second week, southbound, we were joined by a woman who was recovering from recent surgery; after one night she wasn't able to make it back to dinner; after two nights she and her husband were taken by helicopter to a hospital in Juneau, leaving only the woman's sister-in-law at our table on the nights she chose to eat in the dining room.

 

In 14 days we met hundreds of people, almost all of them very pleasant and very interesting. We ate very well. I was quite fond of the well-prepared game dishes: venison steak, pheasant, reindeer sausage.

 

Anyway, blogging isn't my thing, but I am really glad it is yours. Thanks for posting!

 

-- Dave

[oliverbc]

Another enjoyable read. I guess I understand fannish but really as we would say clear as mud.We took the school bus to Mendenhall and if it wasn't Dave it was his brother. This fellow became very interested in where the police cars were going and Bill and I thought he was who they were looking for.It was the first sail of the season in May and he had just returned to town. There are interesting people there. Bill thinks it was more likely he was just released from jail. 4;50 here In half an hour I will check for a cabin assignment.

[fann1sh]

DAY 13 – WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 12 – KETCHIKAN

 

We weren't scheduled to arrive in Ketchikan until 2 p.m., so the day began with some welcome sea time.

 

It also began with a hangover. Yes, everybody at the table last night had enjoyed wine for formal night. But maybe not everybody had drunk as much of it as I had.

 

Maybe some of them had more sense than me.

 

Maybe it was time to get out of bed and rehydrate myself.

 

I took a couple painkillers, drank a couple glasses of water, and dragged myself and my book to the Lido. I planned on having a quiet breakfast alone.

 

But I ran into my dinner companions from the previous week, the pair who'd opted for open dining instead of main seating. We were joined by another acquaintance, and we sat for far longer than it took to eat breakfast, chatting about an amazing range of topics. In fact, we solved the problems of the world in about 90 minutes, tops.

 

There's a reason these are called “bull sessions”.

 

I've written about the great library on Ryndam, but don't think I've mentioned the informal paperback exchange. There were several shelves filled with interesting books left by previous travellers. I visited here next, and turned in my humongous copy of Michener's Alaska, and an equally heavy large print omnibus containing two “no brain strain” novels. I picked up one slim paperback, and considered it a smart packing trade. Yes, I'd begun to think about packing.

 

Team trivia was in the Crow's Nest at noon. You already know what happened. (For the baseball official scorers out there, write in a “K.")

 

The Captain announced we would be slightly later arriving at the pier in Ketchikan than 2:00 p.m. Since our catamaran tour was scheduled to depart at 2:30, I made my way down to Main/Deck 5 early to try to disembark promptly.

 

For the first, and last time on Ryndam, I found myself in a massive traffic snarl.

 

There were many, many people in line ahead of me, and the traffic flow was routed in some arcane manner I never did figure out: looping around the elevator core, and down corridors. My job today wasn't door keeper or traffic director, so I did what seemed sensible to me. I sat cross legged on the deck.

 

Yes, I know – where was that rented wheelchair? Back in my cabin, on Lower Promenade/Deck 6. Going back for it now wouldn't accomplish anything except make it harder to find the new “end of the line”. We've all seen how often HAL stewards vacuum, so I knew I wasn't going to get my slacks dirty or catch germs by sitting on the floor. Yes, I got strange looks. No, it didn't bother me. Remember, I'm the one who sat cross legged on an asphalt pier in Skagway.

 

I'm the Queen of Strange Looks.

 

Eventually, the line started to move, and I got up and moved with it. The conga line snaked in such interesting ways, every time you saw a smiling crew member around a corner, you were sure you'd reached the front of it. Nope. But it was an orderly line, without pushing or queue jumping (except for a few bewildered latecomers getting out of elevators, but that was purely unintentional).

 

I finally saw daylight, and I headed down the gangway and to where Front Street dead ended at the small boat pier. Down another ramp was the Allen Marine “St. Nona” catamaran.

 

I've already told you my companion for this excursion was Roger, who shared my dinner table. He was born in Ketchikan, but left as an infant.

 

Because he wanted to see the home town he'd never known, Roger was disappointed by our delayed docking time. As a 7 day passenger instead of a back-to-back one like me, the lost minutes of leeway meant no opportunity to find his family's former home before our excursion. However, he didn't want to miss the trip to Misty Fjords.

 

Our naturalist Sonya began telling us the history of Misty Fjords National Monument Wilderness as we pulled out of Tongass Narrows into the Revillagigedo Channel. I was surprised to learn this was not a virgin forest. Commercial logging and clear cutting had marked the area's past. However, when President Carter enacted legislation creating the monument in 1978, it became in inviolate. No roads, no trails, no cabins. Just 2.3 million square miles of true wilderness, which man is not allowed to touch.

 

The concept is simple. The islands we passed were lovely. Sea met trees, rocks and sky.

 

But the notion of “wilderness” slowly took hold of my mind as the miles slipped by. Our captain navigated past Point Alava, and turned down the Behm Canal. The land became steeper, starker, more beautiful, more dramatic. My mind started to play tricks on me. I saw a “cottage” that was just a flash of rock in a clearing; a “dock” that was a knot of deadwood. My brain couldn't accept mile after mile of landscape where our small boat was the only trace of human beings.

 

A landscape that was completely unspoiled.

 

Sonya described for us George Vancouver's voyage to this area in 1793, in a futile search for a Northwest Passage. Sailing up this very stretch of the Behm Canal, Vancouver was astonished to see in the misty distance, in the middle of the canal, what appeared to be a frigate under full sail.

 

This was our introduction to New Eddystone Rock, a jutting 230 foot remnant of a volcanic core which glaciers failed to scour away with the surrounding rock. Graced by trees on its summit and sides, surrounded by water at high tide, its soaring silhouette was remarkably like a sailing ship.

 

I found it vaguely comforting that over 200 years ago, someone else's eyes hungered to interpret shapes in this wilderness as being man made.

 

The crowning vista of our excursion was Punchbowl Cove. Here, sheer walls of rock, striated by glaciation, soared over 3,000 feet straight up from the water's edge. It was...awesome.

 

Roger and I had chatted happily as we left Ketchikan, but as our ship probed deeper and deeper into this amazing wilderness, we got quieter. By the time we reached Punchbowl Cove, the entire ship seemed hushed. When anyone spoke, it was usually to utter just one word: “wow”.

 

We travelled about 40 miles from Ketchikan, to get to Punchbowl Cove. On the return trip, Roger and I tried to figure out what we could tell our friends and family about this excursion. We came up with a lot of descriptions about what was fantastic, what was amazing. None of the words seemed to have anywhere near the impact of the vistas which rolled past us. As we struggled with what to say, our phrases got shorter and more imperative.

 

What did we finally settle on as we finally tied up at the pier, back in Ketchikan?

 

“Just go.”

[DizzyDallasDi]

Hi fann1sh - I was just wondering if you've ever taken a flightseeing excursion in Misty Fjords and, if so, how that compared to your boat excursion. I did the flightseeing in May and it was spectacular. I may have to take the boat tour next time.

 

Also, I'm thoroughly enjoying each of your entries. Love your writing style and sense of humor! :D

 

Diane

[fann1sh]

Hi, Diane - thanks for the compliment.

 

This was my very first Alaska cruise, so I have no basis for comparison. I think the flightseeing would be amazing, to see areas inaccessible by water.

 

I suspect the boat trip gives you a better, sustained idea of BIG, wow, so BIG.

 

I may try flightseeing next time :D. We can compare notes then!

[Storylady]

Fannish,

 

Beautiful description of your trip to Misty Fjords. We took the HAL excursion (Allen Family) to Misty Fjords in May. It was the highlight tour of our 3 different trips to Alaska. Nice thing about the boat trip vs the floatplane was seeing all the wildlife---Eagles, Bears, Dolphins, Humpback Whales, Seals, & Deer.

 

Thanks again for sharing your adventures. Your words are as beautiful as the trip. And we all can create our own pictures of your journey.

[fann1sh]

DAY 14 – THURSDAY, AUGUST 13 – AT SEA

 

Breakfasted in the main dining room. Then, back to the cabin.

 

I had to start that most awful of cruise tasks: packing to go home. You see, they would be throwing me out of MY cabin tomorrow, and completely off the ship. That was...that was just WRONG, and in so many ways!

 

It didn't take long to get my checked bag ready to be stuck outside the door that evening. Decided to handle the carry on stuff later.

 

The Mariner brunch was held at 11:00 a.m. On the main level of the dining room. Caesar salad, and quiche for me, plus generous wine refills. Amazingly, Jess, my trusted dinner sommelier, was also assigned to my section.

 

Jess proved he knew me well after 2 weeks. My glass got topped up about twice as frequently as anyone else in our area of the dining room. (What can I say? I just don't know how to sip. Perhaps I need to drink more, so I can practice?)

 

I was pleased when Sam, table companion for Main seating dinner, was called forward for his 300 day medal.

 

From there, I went up to the Crow's Nest for my absolutely team trivia. My team was eager, and we felt confident of many of our 20 answers. Finally, there was only one question to go.

 

This final bonus question,” Matt informed us, “is going to take a bit more space than usual. Name all 14 Holland America ships.”

 

I snatched a fresh piece of paper, and started scribbling. From quite a distance behind me, I heard an awed voice: “Wow, look at her go”.

 

I didn't look up.

 

“Matt, do we get an extra bonus point for putting them in alphabetical order?”

 

“Um...that's an interesting idea,” he waffled, as I continued to write.

 

I slapped down my pencil. “How about extra bonus points for naming what class each ship falls in?” I suggested brightly.

 

“Shhh”, he hissed back.

 

Yup, Matt had definitely dealt with children before.

 

Matt reviewed the list of 20 regular trivia answers. When he reached the bonus answer, he gave me a focused look. “I will now name the 14 Holland America ships,” he announced, “in alphabetical order. They are: Amsterdam, Maasdam...”

 

“Eurodam,” I interjected.

 

Matt pointed a finger. “Shush!”

 

I let him continue. He forgot Prinsendam, and had to double back. Reversed Zaandam and Zuiderdam at the end. I think I flustered him, staring at him with that smug grin on my face. But he did get all fourteen.

 

Of course, so did I. But once again, it was just one point too few....

 

Rats. No plush zip jacket for me.

 

What next? Despite the brisk temperature (60F/15C) I decided to take one last swim in the Sea View pool, to say “goodbye” to the soon-to-be-gone Navigation deck feature. Once again, the whole area was deserted. But, once again, it was an awfully chilly day, and on an Alaskan route.

 

I tested the water. It was profoundly warmer than the air – which wasn't saying much. Stripped off my robe, climbed down the ladder, and began my steady breast stroke, circling without touching the pool sides.

 

From high up on the Lido deck, a couple people pointed, and I got some strange looks, but it didn't bother me. (Haven't I already mentioned I'm the Queen of Strange Looks?)

 

A curious female passenger climbed down the stairs, crossed to the pool, and stuck her hand in the water. “Hey, it's warm!”

 

“Canadian?” I asked.

 

“No, Michigan. How did you --- oh, water's not all that warm?”

 

I shrugged, as best you can shrug when you're swimming. “Matter of opinion. They're getting rid of this pool, you know.”

 

“WHAT?!? They can't!” she wailed.

 

A couple also came down and joined us, to see what we were talking about. The husband stuck his hand in the water. “Dang, that's freezin'!”

 

“Floridian?” I asked.

 

“Naw, Arizona. What's this about the pool?”

 

Both members of the couple echoed their outrage at the idea of getting rid of this swimming pool, even if it was way too cold for sane people to swim in it.

 

I noticed from the clock mounted above the doors it was almost time for Indonesian tea. Got out, towelled off fast, grabbed my robe and headed to my cabin to change.

 

This was my first HAL Indonesian tea, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Indonesian music played quietly in the background. The servers wore batik shirts and trousers, and had the air of a group of people enjoying themselves, even though they were working. The teas I chose from proved to be outstanding. I sampled Indonesian Spice black tea, and found the mixture of cardamom, cinnamon and ginger seductive. The sweets offered were exotic and looked lovely. However, after two weeks of ship's cuisine, I decided I had to start rejoining the real world, and firmly declined. I almost relented when I saw how disappointed my server looked, but – nope.

 

I buy flavoured teas on a number of Internet sites, but for those of you who would like to sample HAL's own, please check out the photo at this link:

 

 

[url="http://travel.webshots.com/photo/2146623050105503019sCUVAU"

 

The photo shows the teas offered, and gives the HAL shopping link to purchase them.

 

Elsewhere, I've posted details of a question and answer session with Hotel Manager Cees Tessalaar, held at 4:30 p.m.:

 

http://boards.cruisecritic.com/showthread.php?t=1046473

 

As I dressed for my final Ryndam dinner, I mused there were so many things I promised myself I'd do on this 14 day trip, but I never found time.

 

I didn't take the iPod art tour. I didn't take a cooking class. I seldom even glanced at the Daily Quiz. I'd only seen a HAL's ship's galley once, and this cruise didn't change that. I didn't sample any 2-for-1 Martinis.

 

I'm one of those people who mourned the end of “small venue games” like Scattergories. This cruise, wouldn't have found time to play them anyway.

 

Granted, Alaska is a more port intensive destination than the Caribbean, where I've often cruised. But, I'm beginning to suspect the “I have time to do that tomorrow” mentality of a slightly longer cruise could have something to do with it, too.

 

I know for many HAL regulars the notion a mere 14 days could be considered “longer” is laughable. But, we all start somewhere. This was my start, and it gave me food for thought when weighing possible future cruises.

 

Tonight was the Master Chef's dinner. The only reason I didn't skip it was I couldn't sneak out on our wonderful serving team, as I had envelopes to hand out.

 

The servers streamed in beating large salad bowls in time to music. They were led by one of the Ryndam dancers. Himself a strutting gander, he failed to infuse any of his own enthusiasm into the shy goslings that reluctantly trailed after him.

 

I perused the menu one last time.

 

“What's it going to be tonight?” Kathleen queried.

 

“I just don't know...nothing really looks, well, safe.”

 

“What about the duck?” she suggested.

 

“Oh, no, that's SURE to have it!” I protested.

 

"You, two,” Roger rolled his eyes, “are just going to have to grow up and get over yourselves. It's just a garnish.”

 

“But it's on every dish,” I protested.

 

“Every, single dish,” Kathleen echoed.

 

“I'm having the Tagliatelle with Roast Chicken,” Sam announced."

 

"It will be there,” Diane warned.

 

Sam shrugged.

 

George snorted, and shook his head.

 

We ordered. We enjoyed each others company.

 

And, eventually, our main course dinner plates were placed before us with a flourish.

 

I peered at my plate, plucked the usual suspect from where it was embedded in my mushroom strudel, and brandished it in the air. “Rosemary!” I deposited with disdain on my bread plate.

 

Kathleen nodded. “Rosemary on the shrimp.”

 

Roger grinned. “The lamb chops were supposed to have oregano, but isn't this---?”

 

“Rosemary,” Diane agreed. She removed a spring from her own salmon without comment.

 

"You people are too fussy,” George informed us. However, I noticed he surreptitiously scooted a sprig of rosemary as far as possible across his plate from his beef and mashed potatoes. “Sam, tell them it's not the end of the world. C'mon, with all the exotic things you've eaten in exotic places, this is such a little thing, right?”

 

Sam looked up from his plate. “They really did put rosemary in the pasta, ” he announced, shaking his head with disbelief. “In Rome, the chef would be shot on sight.”

 

We laughed. The food was good, the company was wonderful, so...what's a little rosemary between friends?

 

At 10:20 p.m., we rose from the table one last time, said our goodbyes, and trouped out of the dining room: last, for the last time.

 

I returned to my cabin, in that state of mixed feelings: Happy to have had fun, sad to be leaving, happy to soon be home. All that remained was disembarkation, and, perhaps, a chance to process all that had happened into a few last thoughts.

 

I'll post about those things tomorrow.

[fann1sh]

Yep, there's a ton of typos above. Sorry about that. In reformatting for this forum, a few new errors crept in, some words got deleted, etc., and frankly I ran out of time for edits, even when I'd already spotted the problems.

 

Apologies.

 

Obviously, there was no metal on Diane's salmon. Sprig, not spring.

 

*sigh*

[CowPrincess]

Happy to share one of my favorite shots from "our" Ryndam -- I hope it makes you smile, fannish:

[fann1sh]

Happy to share one of my favorite shots from "our" Ryndam -- I hope it makes you smile, fannish:

 

 

:):):)

[KLLund]

Fannish .. I want to thank you again for your wonderful travelogue .. I have so enjoyed reading it and I think it is especially nice that you will you to finish today .. thereby saving me internet minutes on the ship tomorrow!!

Truly a memorable read !!!

[fann1sh]

DAY 15 – FRIDAY, AUGUST 14 – VANCOUVER DISEMBARKATION

 

I was up at 7:00 a.m., and was shoving the last of my things in my carry on bag when room service knocked. I quickly ate a light breakfast. Double checked my cabin, to make sure I wasn't leaving anything behind (except the rented wheelchair).

 

Disembarkation was silent, and my assigned time was 8:30. I left my cabin door open, and headed down the hallway for the last time. At 8:30 sharp – no line up – I scanned my way off Ryndam, and entered Canada Place.

 

My checked bag was right where it was supposed to be, in Green 3. So was a porter. He snagged both my bags, and asked, “Where to?”

 

"Isn't there an elevator right here in the terminal for the Pan Pacific Hotel? That's where I have reservations.”

 

“Ooo, Pan Pacific, very nice.” I could see him surreptitiously reassessing my khakis ($29 on sale), T-shirt ($15, half price sale), and scuffed Rockport walking shoes (8 years old, 85% off clearance sale, and you don't get a deal like THAT every day!)

 

"I got a great deal on Priceline,” I felt compelled to explain. “$82.”

 

He stopped short, and a couple behind us almost rammed into us. “Eighty-two dollars?” His expression wasn't surprised; more than anything he seemed offended.

 

"Yes. Well, Eighty-two dollars U.S....plus tax.”

 

My porter shook his head. “No, this is wrong, this is very wrong. My worthless cousin, he runs a terrible hotel across town. The cockroaches, they are as big as the rats. He would spit on only $82!” He resumed pulling the trolley, much faster than before. I struggled to keep up. “Eighty-two dollars, this I cannot believe.”

 

My porter continued to mutter, “Eighty-two dollars!” under his breath for the minute or two it took to reach the Pan Pacific's elevator.

 

There, my bags were whisked away by a member of the Pan's bellman staff, while I myself was whisked by the elevator several floors up to the lobby.

 

I had no expectation of being able to check in before 9:00 a.m. My plan for the day was to take in the exhibit “Vermeer, Rembrandt, and the Golden Age of Dutch Art” at the Vancouver Art Gallery. The receptionist checked my reservation, and told me she would call my cell phone when the room was ready. However, would I be interested in an upgrade to “Pacific Club” concierge level for a nominal fee of $75?

 

With an $82 room, an additional $75 seemed more than nominal at that moment. What would my porter think, after nabbing a room for “Eighty two dollars!”

 

I asked if I could decide about the upgrade when I was called a room was available? Certainly. I was told the lobby concierge would help me with my plans for the day, in the meantime.

 

I walked across the vast lobby, soaring upwards several floors. It was not quite an atrium, but on a cubic foot basis, I've seldom encountered a larger hotel space. Adjoining bars and restaurants made the area look even larger. The windows in all directions showed a grey, forbidding day outside.

 

 

Yet the space seemed to grow larger with every step I took. Suddenly, I was overwhelmingly, incredibly exhausted. Emotional let down? Maybe. But the urge to see a collection of paintings that I'd (mainly) seen before became much less urgent. I turned, and returned to the reception deck.

 

If I paid for an upgrade, would the room be available NOW?

 

The computer was consulted. I was handed a key.

 

Room 2219 was one floor below the penthouse, and across the hall from one of the hotel's premium suites.

 

I opened the door, collapsed on the bed, and absently ran my hand across the duvet. Hmmm – 800 thread count Egyptian cotton?

 

As tired as I was, I briefly explored the room. Chaise longue, perfect for reading. Bathroom where the double hinged door would either close the entire area off, or just the commode - very ingenious. Bathrobe and slipper in the closet.

 

For a return to “the real world”, it was a remarkable gentle and luxurious one.

 

The bellman arrived with my bags, and told me the Pacific Club was one floor up in the penthouse, accessible by elevator or a winding staircase.

 

My curiosity kept me going out, and up, to meet the helpful private concierge. The lounge had an amazing view of the harbour...with Ryndam directly below us, at our feet.

 

For one last time my camera went “grrr, grrr – CLICK” as I took a final shot.

 

I slept or read the day away. I went down to the lobby to print my flight boarding pass for the for my flight the next day, only to discover the printer in the computer area had been broken for a week. Back up in the Pacific Club, the concierge was happy to print it for me, perhaps justifying the “nominal fee” upgrade in the hassle saved.

 

I snacked on complementary prawns and chicken brochettes, and fell asleep without any other dinner. In the morning, fresh fruit and tea were all I wanted from the complementary “continental” breakfast, but there were cheeses, meats, waffles and other items that reminded me of the Ryndam Lido.

 

As I descended the elevator on my way to the airport, I looked down. There at my feet was a mat which pronounced it was “Saturday”.

 

For anyone who wants to delay their return to “the real world”, I heartily recommend the Pan Pacific Hotel. It may not be a HAL ship, but it's close enough!

 

AFTERTHOUGHTS:

 

I learned a lot on this cruise. Some of if was stuff I should already have known. (“No, the stripes down the middle of the glacier aren't where snowmobiles left tracks. They're called medial moraines.”)

 

In no particular order:

 

Alaskans have no insulting slang term for “tourists”. OK, there's “cheechako”, but that applies to new residents to the state, too. Just about everyplace else has a pejorative word they reserve for tourists. In Michigan, the nicest is “fudgies”, and it deteriorates from there to names like “citiots”. Granted, a lot of Alaska's butter is spread on bread baked from tourist money. But the Sunshine State relies as much on tourism, yet many Floridians openly loathe “snowbirds” . Maybe I missed something, but it appeared to me all Alaskan tourists were met with politeness, usually friendliness, and often genuine warmth. Granted, many people here in Ontario are courteous to a fault to a “gorby”, while laughing behind their back. But in Alaska, my “secret snicker-o-meter” didn't go off. Well....not often.

 

Master Chef's Night just isn't my idea of dinner and a show.

 

Life in a wheelchair isn't for sissies. There's a reason that, when I was able, I didn't use it. It takes a lot of effort to get it places you want to go. When you get there, some people tend to ignore you. Or else, assume sitting in it lowers your I.Q. 40 points. That's O.K. - I have a few assumptions about their I.Q.'s, too.

 

Suite cabins are dandy, but inside cabins aren't a hardship. If I can't have a window that opens, I don't really need a window at all.

 

There's still a lot of words and names I don't know how to pronounce correctly, but a few new ones I do: Tlingit is “KLINK-it”; Kenai is “KEEN-eye”; and Valdez is “val-DEEZ”. Three down, half a million to go.

 

Always bring a backup camera.

 

No matter how frugal you think you're being, that shipboard account at the end of the cruise is an “ouchie”.

 

If you wanna have fun, you'll have fun. If you wanna complain...you guessed it. I've decided I wanna have fun.

 

I've already proved on HAL cruise ships I could live for a week without email. And live for 10 days without email. Now, I can live for 14 days without email. Anyone want to lay bets on how far I can push this?

 

However, I've learned I can't go 14 days without a phone call home. This new rule forced it's way down my craw at the Ryndam's rail in Vancouver. “Hi, Dad, I'm back in Canada. What's up?......My fridge really, truly, completely died? But, wait...no....Dad....NO, it's my landlord's job to buy a new one. Oh, man, he's going to be so annoyed you did that!” He was, he is, and I'm still working it out.

 

And, no, that doesn't disprove the part about email. Dad, and some other important people in my life don't use computers. However, my cat is trying to learn.

 

HAL passengers are still among the nicest anywhere. Oh, sure, you'll probably meet one ***** per cruise. (Don't they issue them, just like life jackets?) However, most people are darned pleasant and upbeat. Even the people in line ups who might have an excuse to be cranky, or the ones who've found out the weather had turned their plans upside down and * shaken them hard* were overwhelmingly calm and reasonable. That condition was not matched by the behaviour I observed of passengers on larger ships. Whether that's a “HAL thing” or a “small ship thing” remains to be proven.

 

When you open your very own front door after a cruise, it's wonderful when your cat leaps in your arms and tries to lick you to death.

 

And, most important of all: I have to go back to Alaska.

 

****

 

I'd like to thank all the people who came with me on this journey. I kept my journal, and started this thread, because remembering is important to me. I want to remember not only what happened to me and around me on this cruise, but what I felt, and what made me laugh. My mother is currently struggling with memory loss that may (or may not) be caused by Alzheimer's. My Dad and I are grateful much of her personality is intact, and she's still crystal clear about which faces belong to people she loves. Unfortunately, this runs in Mom's family. My odds of developing the same problems look 50/50, depending on whether Mom or Dad's genes prove dominant. Yes, I know health and genetics aren't that simple, but...I'm really, truly hoping to win this lottery.

 

Also, medications I've taken for a completely different set of medical problems seem to have locked away whole compartments of my early life. Sometimes a scent or a sound can prompt a cascade of memories for which I thought I'd lost the key. I bless the daily calendars my Mom kept all my life, with her very clear notations. It's also a way to reconnect with a part of Mom that's fading away.

 

So, while I started this epic to etch a more legible record than my journal hen scratchings, I've picked up observers along the way. I figured there would be a few of you, and expected that fact to nudge me, and keep me going until I finished. However, I shake my head every time I see the numbers in the “Views” column. Many of you have been incredibly kind in your praise of my writing style. I almost always respond to any kind of compliment with “It was nothing,” or “Don't even mention it”. Recently a friend grabbed me by the shoulders, gave me a firm physical shake, and looked me straight in the eye.

 

“DO NOT DO THAT.” Words of one syllable work best sometimes.

 

"What?”

 

"Blow people off like that.”

 

"I don't - "

 

"You DO. When people want to appreciate something you've done, let them. If they tell you 'Good job', just say 'Thank you.' Don't denigrate them by denigrating yourself.”

 

Okay. I hope I haven't already done that to people who were being nice. So, for all who praised...(deep breath)...thank you. I really appreciate the compliments. A lot. Hope you had as much fun as I did.

 

----Patricia

[RuthC]

Okay. I hope I haven't already done that to people who were being nice. So, for all who praised...(deep breath)...thank you. I really appreciate the compliments. A lot. Hope you had as much fun as I did.

 

----Patricia

I guess the polite thing to say is "You're welcome". But really, thank you for giving us the opportunity to share this excellent adventure.

As far as having as much fun as you, probably very, very close.