Skagway

July 30th

It was a rough night for me. When we were at Starbuck's, I think they gave me a real coffee,
instead of decaf, and the bod and eyes were wide awake for hours. Going to Skagway
motivated me to rise at 7:30, and we each handled our own breakfast: Mark at the Walmart
McDonald's for pancakes, while I did a small marketing, and me, a protein drink and decaf
mocha.

 

Mark was asked to wake me whenever there was a notable or grand sight to behold, so I didn't
sleep, but rested mightily. Rainbow Lake was ethereal, with its clear green-blue palette of
variations in the middle, on the shoreline, supposedly from refracting colors from the marl at the
bottom---a white substance from glacial deposits---probably similar to the glacial silt or flour that
makes Peyto Lake that pure turquoise. Going down the steep highland grade towards
Skagway, was not to be missed. Forests leading the way on the mountains were more like our
northwest woods, with density and strong, tall trees again, with the straggly black spruces
disappearing with the permafrost.

 

Suddenly, the terrain transformed into low rounded rock formations on both sides of the
highway, with lovely lakes and streams winding around tree-spotted rock islands. It was grey
and cool at this elevation, and images of Ireland came up as a comparable image. This
highland territory was referred to as "moonscapes" with the short firs as "mopheads," being
stunted and formed by the snows and winds. Waterfalls were long, wide and started at what we
could see as the tops of great mountains, and falling clearly and visibly down past the roadway.

There was dense fog now, and Sockeye Bike Tours had a couple vanfuls of tourists in yellow
rain gear, (passengers from the giant cruise ships) who were carted to the top of the highway, to
bike down to Skagway. Mark thought this foolish, with the narrow road and hardly any shoulder
for bikers, much less width for all the trucks, tour buses and cars zipping by either way. Several
runaway truck hills were also passed, demonstrating the steepness of this grade.

 

At the bottom, sun broke through again, and we turned right just before the Skagway sign, to
find a campsite in Dyea, where Mark had stayed two years ago. Again, it's one of those narrow
gravel and dirt roads many are resistant to travel, and RVs over 25 feet are discouraged from
even daring. I am very glad we are here, and the road was hand-able. It is at the end of the
inlet, where tidal flats and wooded areas co-exist tranquilly and beautifully. There is a stream
running through, and pink salmon are spawning in the open flats, so the dorsal fins are viewed
high up in the water, and densely populated by these brave fish whose sole purpose is to plant
their eggs before dying. Seagulls of two varieties were hopping in the stream, going for those
unhatched babes. One was of our usual all-white gull, and the other, a more delicately beaked,
with a fine black line running the width of its tail feathers.

We settled in the camp, detaching the trailer for a freer jaunt into town. Four years ago, Mark
camped on the tidal flat road, but two years ago, this was not allowed (probably due to erosion
and others not respecting the grasslands), so this current campground has been more
developed than when he was here last, with very nice, spiffy outhouses, and a free registration
system for sites used. It is a short walk and even shorter bike ride to the tidal flats, where we
had lunch, looking at the fjord-like inlet cradled between the mountains, and napped before
driving to Skagway.

 

The cruise ships, all four of them, had arrived and it was a crowded downtown of all ages on
foot, going through the multitude of diamond jewelers, and typical tourist stores, with some very
nice art galleries and sweet shops. Of course, all the building facades were Gold Rush period.
Wooden sidewalks are always a novelty and fun, and it was rare to see a car drive down the
main streets, since the ships' passengers are organized down a concrete trail into the little town,
or signed up for smaller tour vans that take them to rafting, horseback-riding outfitters, train
rides.

 

There were several female shop owners we enjoyed visiting with. Two sisters, young women
born in Massachusetts, but then relocated to Seattle, have lived here for 12 years, and have
one of the nicer gallery, gift shops on the drag. Out of 900 residents, about 300 take-off in the
winter, one shared, including them. They have an aging (most likely, about our ages) mother in
Seattle, so they feel a need to spend as much time with her as possible. Plus, one said she
doesn't want to hang-out in the local bars all winter, either. Another older gal, gave us
restaurant tips, and told us of eagle family viewing, watching the parents teach the young 'uns
how to dive and fish, by the bridge in Dyea.

By late afternoon, I was fading fast, with little sleep last night, so we bought our re-stocking of
fudge from a young gentleman, attending BYU in Rexburg, Idaho. He will be a junior majoring
in psychology, working the summer here, with this being his first day of employment at this shop
of ice cream and chocolates. I informed him of my retiring from counseling from the clinic, and
suggested he may want to do clinical work for the experience, and a very part-time private
practice initially, if he wants. Good male therapists are needed badly, and that it was a field and
career I really enjoyed, I also shared.

 

Dinner was at a terrific place in the marina, where we had beautifully presented meals of salmon
and a halibut stir-fry with wonderful veggies. Watching the behemoth cruise ships amidst the
marina boats, and edged-up to this little village seemed out of keeping, and one of them is a
Wonder Disney boat, which is what the experience reminds me of, somewhat, when sharing
sidewalks with all those people, Disneyland. At 7:30 p.m., large tour buses were still loading
and unloading ship folk, taking them to different destinations, and the smaller outfitter and tour
vans were passing us towards town, on their way from Dyea. Morning and early evening town
strolls are assessed as the optimal periods to do so, with returned ship masses, since night sails
are the routes and schedules for the boats.

It was soothing and open, getting back to lovely, quiet Dyea. Standing on the bridge over the
spawning stream in the tidal flatlands, we chatted with several others. A father had grabbed one
of the salmon with his bare hand, offered it to his school-aged son to touch, and gently held it in
the water for a moment, before releasing. A boy, about 11 or 12 y.o., was trying to snag a fish,
by dangling his line over the bridge. He seemed like a secure, engaging person, sharing his
knowledge of the salmon, e.g. the older ones are with the bigger humped fins, and that we may
be able to sight a grizzly about 9 p.m., when it isn't as bright outside (which is about when he
and his dad spotted one here). All three just gazed at eachother while fishing, he said.
Tomorrow night we will try our luck in sighting one; tonight it is time for a much sought after
slumber.