Petersburg Alaska
9. The Inside Passage
Following my stay in Ketchikan there ensued a series of ferry connections which took me to Petersburg, Sitka, Juneau, and finally Haines where I connected with the Alaskan Highway crossing over a corner of the Yukon Territory in order to reach Alaska again.
The ferry connections were often not as advertised because of delays and breakdowns. Sometimes I experienced boarding late at night or being discharged in the wee hours of the morning. And it rained, rained, rained. It wasn’t particularly cold just very, very wet.
Petersburg is Alaska’s little Norway as it was originally settled by Norwegian immigrants. Fishing seems to be the main occupation, and during a rare break in the weather I did a sketch of an old, half sunken fishing boat.
Sitka is interesting historically having been the capital when Alaska was Russian. An entertaining description of this period can be found in James A. Michener’s Alaska. Upon arrival I got off the ferry and went straight to a National Forest campground to try and get some much needed sleep. It was another large campground and, again, I was one of the only people there. I selected one of the most remote campsites. It was a beautiful pristine spot, very quiet and ideal for communing with nature. I slept well except Georgia started walking on me about 5:00 a.m. At 7:30 a.m., after Georgia was finally able to get me up, I heard what sounded like a truck and around the bend came a tour bus packed with tourists. Apparently there was a cruise ship in port. The bus drove by slowly so that they could all have a good look at me getting dressed.
My impression of this campsite the night before was that there were so few people present, and my spot was so secluded that I would not even have to draw the curtains. The whole bus scene was repeated about a dozen times in the next two hours. The driver would be speaking into a microphone and although I couldn’t make out the words my paranoid imagination filled them in. “See the camper brush his teeth. See the camper chop wood. See the camper hide behind that tree….What’s he doing back there?” I very much resented the intrusion into my privacy and enjoyment of this otherwise idyllic spot. I had some over ripe tomatoes and I think I showed remarkable restraint. I started for them a couple of times but checked myself.
On a more positive note, I did do a good business in Sitka selling eight prints to Jill Hanson of the Impressions Gallery. I guess those tourists were good for something after all.
During the passage between Sitka and Juneau there was another break in the weather. For a time it didn’t rain and there were sky holes or patches of blue in the overcast. Best of all every once in a while the Sun would pass through one of the sky holes and WOW! undiluted Sunshine. What a treat!
Not only is Juneau the state capital, but it is also a main tourist stop. There seemed to be a cruise ship in port almost continually which was good for the art business, and I made some art sales to several galleries in downtown Juneau.
There is quite a bit to see in the Juneau area. I did the short hike to Mendenhall Glacier, checked out the State Museum, did a sketch at Eagle Beach, and visited the St. Teresa Shrine on a pretty little wooded island connected to the mainland by a causeway.
The day I visited the Shrine the weather was absolutely sublime. The temperature was in the mid-seventies, not a cloud in the sky, or even a breeze. The island has a mystical quality. The Sunlight filters through thetrees and is reflected off the water. A path leads around the island’s perimeter complete with stations of the cross. The whole effect is designed to produce a contemplative state for a walking meditation. One could almost get religion in such a place on such a day. I wondered if maybe religion wasn’t more about how you felt than how you thought. A devotee of Mother Nature must be just as awe inspired under such conditions as any body else. . . . . . . It sure was nice to see the Sun again.
I camped the second night at Mendenhall Lake. Shortly after arriving I heard a sound I couldn’t identify and then there appeared a team of five dogs pulling a large tricycle on which a man was riding. I guess they were training for winter. Georgia’s tail went bushy at this unusual sight but the dogs didn’t spot her. Its probably a good thing, no telling what would have happened. A short while later Georgia was treed by a neighbor’s Labrador retriever. It was a small tree and Georgia was just able to get out of the dog’s reach.
That evening as I was fixing dinner and Georgia was staring out the window I heard her heave a long sigh/purr which ran down the musical scale about half an octave. I looked at her bemused, “A rich full day, eh Georgia?” She looked at me and smiled with her eyes the way cats do. I think at that point in the trip Georgia was quite happy with this new way of life. It certainly was more stimulating than the staid old Art League. Assuming she continued a domestic life, Georgia was probably at about mid-life giving us something else in common. There we were on the “Inside Passage” which, looking back, I can now read as a kind of synonym for mid-life passage.
After dinner, during the long twilight hours I was visited by a member of a Christian sect well known for its door to door proselytizing. Perhaps I was in a receptive mood since I had been thinking and writing about basic philosophical issues. At any rate I took the usual literature and gave him a small donation. Thus encouraged he invited me to a church service the following morning. By way of a preview, he told me the sermon would concern God’s teachings on the subject of good government. At that point I couldn’t resist asking a few questions.
“What god are you speaking of?”
“Why the Lord God of all, the God of the Bible, the Creator,” he answered.
“I see, but what about all those Hindu gods Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, et al. do you put any stock in them?”
“Of course not, I’m a Christian, those are false gods,” he assured me.
“But there are a whole lot of people in India that believe those are the true Gods and the Christian God is false.”
“I know, it’s too bad, but they’ve been misled.”
“Well, one thing is certain simple logic says they can’t both be true.”
“That’s for sure,” he replied, looking a little relieved.
“And you’re sure the Christian God is the true God?”
“Absolutely, I know it.”
“Well okay,” I pondered, “but one other possibility occurs to me that simple logic would not rule out.”
“What’s that?”
“They could both be false.”
He paused momentarily and his eyes slightly narrowed as if suddenly seeing me in a new light. I decided that was a good place to end the banter. I thanked him again for the literature and retreated to the van.
Also while in Juneau I met Deborah Vogt. We had a mutual friend, Isabel Rowen, who had provided me with an introduction. Deborah was nice enough to let me use her shower and I gave her a private showing of my prints. We went out to dinner and over the course of a few days we had a number of extended conversations. I learned much about Alaska from Deborah and she was a uniquely qualified instructor. As a young woman right out of college she had homesteaded with several friends in the Brooks Mountain Range in northern Alaska. As I remember, this was in the seventies during the “back to the land” movement of that era. When that had run its course, she decided on law school, got her degree, passed the bar, and when I met her she was Assistant Attorney General for the State of Alaska.
The Brooks range is about as far from civilization as one can get in the United States, on the other hand, what could be more civilized than a law office at the seat of government. These two vastly different perspectives gave her a rather thorough understanding of Alaska and its people. I am indebted to her for contributing greatly to my Alaskan education. She spoke of the various population segments, the problems of the natives, the politics of oil, the boom and bust economy and much more. I felt like I was on the “Inside Passage” in more ways than one.
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