BEST MORNING EVER!!! What is better than waking up (slightly head-coldy sick, but feeling a bit better, thanks) to the view of Alaska outside your balcony window? Waking up and finding out you've GAINED AN HOUR during your sleep as you've marvelously sailed into another time zone. My favorite day of the year (setting back your clocks) coupled with a spectacular view! Like Christmas in June.
After a tip from Maria, I clue into another greatness of having a balcony room: continental breakfast delivered to your room and eating breakfast outside with the Alaskan coastline in front of you. During breakfast, and our slow (and quiet!) approach toward the port, we start to notice the icebergs floating around us. To the untrained eye they look like small, light blue boats (ahem...Brian.) To those of us who know things, we know they are huge chunks of ice floating in the frigid waters. And yes, images of "Titanic" come to you (but not *too* graphically, as you have never seen the whole movie. The only person who hasn't, I'm sure.) I am convinced, however, that the coast guard boats we are passing have something to do with the blue nature of the ice. I do not believe for one second that it is a natural occurring color (According to Amy Tam, they are "Windex blue". And she's exactly right.) in nature for icebergs. Even after everyone - including park rangers - have instructed us that it's compacted ice/water molecules that can't process or refract (or some weird science term) the blue, which give them their distinct color. Whatever. I still contend that someone goes out there and throws blue paint on them to keep boats from running into them. (Titanic, anyone? anyone?) What? It could happen.
The fantastic morning continues after breakfast - Brian has booked us a couple's massage at the Lotus Spa on board. We pop for the hot stone option, and are treated to an hour of relaxation bliss. I get the cheerful gal from South Africa who tries mightily to remove the knots from my shoulders ("where I carry my stress") to very little end. Brian has the firm handed Polish gal, who has a strong handshake (and I'm grateful I have the soft handed South African) until Brian discovers that there isn't much strength behind the firm grip. Since he's on vacation, he's already suitably relaxed, no real knots to work out for him! [Is it wrong that I can't remember the name of the woman who spent an hour rubbing me with hot oil? Yeah, I thought so too...] Once we've been oiled up and rubbed down, the hard sell begins: we can purchase all of products used on us today! for one inflated price! or separate inflated prices!
After the relaxation, we gather the kids, prepare for our first dose of Alaska, dress in layers (as recommended by the 'Princess Patter' - ship's daily newsletter) eat a buffet lunch, meet up with the Dulacs and head off the ship around noon. We take some advice and hunt down a shuttle bus to Mendenhall Glacier, about a 20 minute drive from "downtown" Juneau. If you've been to Frontierland at Disneyland, then you've been to downtown Alaska (maybe not Anchorage. I haven't done that place.) Take Frontierland at Disneyland, add the whorehouse history, and you have Juneau...AND Skagway... Ketchikan and Seattle too, for that matter.... The shuttle bus has a local driver who is also a native Alaskan (in the truest sense of the word) and does artwork in the offseason. He narrates (with a delivery that rivals the receptionist of Joel Fleishman) our way through Juneau - pointing out the governor's mansion, among other things, and then adding "Well, then I guess you can all see Russia from here too." We all laughed. And that, my friends, was the one and only anti-Palin instance of the whole week. Judging from the paraphernalia in the (too numerous to even try to count) gift shops, the tour guide speeches, and any other advertisements or such, the state seems generally proud of it's hometown girl. Or they're just very tight lipped about the whole thing. Like keeping your crazy aunt in the attic.
At the shuttle drop-off point we see a very large and dirty piece of ice - it's magnitude somewhat hidden by our position. After contemplating the various hike options, we decide to break into two groups: "the hikers" and "the pseudo-hikers". Guess which group I choose? As the "real" hike is about 3 miles, I make the executive veto decision not to allow Ed to join in. Brian does some eye rolls, Edwin looks crestfallen, but I hold firm. The hiking group takes off and Maria, Edwin and I head down to the water's edge before we start our walk to Nugget Falls. Ed is immediately interested in the rocks and starts trying to skip them into the water. Maria, trying to cheer a sad Ed up, challenges him to a rock skipping contest. She manages to miss the water completely on her first throw - instead hitting Edwin in the leg. They both crack up and then start the contest. Ed wins. We find some mostly melted ice at the edge of the water, and we revel in the fact that we are holding a piece of iceberg. Pretty cool. The walk then takes us down a path and to the waterfall. It's pretty spectacular. And warmer outside than any of us would have ever guessed it could be. At times, it feels almost hot. Hot. Standing next to a glacier. In Alaska. Crazy!
At the falls, Ed is much more interested in gathering rocks than witnessing the awesomeness of nature. When he excitedly calls me over to a bigger boulder, I haul my quickly-expanding, cruise-buffet backside over to him as lickety-split fast as I can. He points to a line of sandstone in the big rock and proclaims that it's gold. Hmmm. Not one to be a TOTAL buzzkill, I agree that it could be. He then proceeds to look for any small pieces of rock that shimmer with gold flecks. He finds several and pockets them - certain that he's just made a cool million. Or maybe just thousands. It changes by the second. Who am I to argue with 8 year old logic? I let him pocket the rocks - even though it's a national park. I just tell him not to take them out and show anyone. It's at this point in our "hike" that Ed agrees that it was a good idea to stay with the moms. We wonder how the rest of the hikers are doing on their 3+ miles, as our 45 minute walk is turning into an hour and a half.
Back at the visitors center - which I swear is swaying, thanks to my inner ear cold issues and the sea legs combined - we check out the displays and ranger talks. No one will use the term "global warming" to describe the cause of the retreat of the glacier. They will use the term "global climate change" as if that's any different. The scientist in the film being shown every 20 minutes (a chance to sit down! hooray!) WILL use the term "global warming." Hmmm. Methinks I will believe the scientist and not the 22 year old National Parks employee from North Carolina who has been here for 3 weeks.
We decide to head back into town - catching a very crowded shuttle bus. We do get to see an extremely unique sight (even though we have to duck our heads to see it as the shuttle is so crowded that we are standing in the aisles.) There, in the distance is an ice field (name escapes me.) In the foreground? Walmart. Seriously. Amazing feat of nature upstaged by amazing feat of capitalism. I would have LOVED to stop at that Walmart. If it had been closer to the ship, I would have totally gone in. In fact, I contemplated bypassing the glacier and going on the Walmart/Costco excursion that was offered on the docks. I have no shame in admitting that. Walmart and Costco are my world as a suburban mom. I have a professional interest in what products are sold in these stores - and I'm sure it would have been fascinating. Completely anthropological and very appealing to me. This time the glacier (and finding gold!) won out. Next time? Walmart.
Back in Juneau, I promise Ed a hot chocolate. After standing in line at the Red Dog Saloon we decide that what we really want is just a coffee shop. Ditching the saloon, we find a coffee shop with fairly decent coffee and hot chocolate with sprinkles and sketchy wifi. Maria can barely log on with her phone - no luck with the laptop she's been carting around all day. Her oldest son is taking a summer school course in college and needs Internet access to receive/send assignments. As he's on the "hike" - we're trying to find decent access in Juneau so that when he's done, he can check in. (Internet access on the ship costs more than my first car did.) I had taken Colin's ipod from him before his hike started - thinking I would need something to distract Ed with. (Thank you, Colin.) Ed happily sat in the shop for almost an hour listening and bopping his head to the Black Eyed Peas. (Thank you, Will.I.Am) We finally gave up on trying to get connected (to the real world!!!) and headed back toward the ship - stopping at one gift shop. Amazingly, Ed picked out one souvenir. One. Total. After I said he could pick one. One. (People with children are shaking their heads in amazement at this right now.) God bless him. And then we found some gold leaf in a vial that we bought for him, so that he could have some real gold. Or in his mind, add it to his collection from the hike.
Back at the ship, I signed Ed into jail - aka kids' club - so I could have an hour of peace and quiet to take a shower and rest. Ed, Maria and I went to the formal dinner. (We had second seating at 8:15.) The last we had heard of the "hikers" - they had done their 3 miles, then did the Nugget Falls hike that Ed, Maria and I did - and caught one of the last shuttles back to Juneau where they checked out the Red Dog Saloon. Brian and Steve had beers at the Saloon and sent all the kids to the coffee shop to try the internet and see if Paul could get his classwork downloaded. Yeah. The dads did some great parenting. I'm helping my kid sneak gold out of a National Park and Brian sends the other 3 to roam the streets of Juneau while he sips a beer in a former whorehouse. So when we make it to dinner on the ship, we really don't know who, if any of them, will be joining us. Our waiter, Mario likes to call Ed "Boss" and as Ed's the only male there for a while, he enjoys the title tonight.
The hikers drift in to the dining room in small groups. It seems that after all the Red Dog Salooning and Coffee Shop interneting, they all felt the need to hit every souvenir shop between the Saloon and the ship. And I couldn't even guess at the number of shops that would be. And Brian thought that the formal pictures were torture? Yeah. Shopping was worse.
So another great dinner. Maybe fish. Probably fish. I ate a lot of fish. Two bottles of wine (not ones that we brought on either. With a $15 corkage fee, the wines on the ship turn out to be about the same cost as the ones we brought on.) And then to bed. Early again.
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