Alaska Journal
2004

Travel Day:

Views from the downtown Anchorage Sheraton.

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Day 1: Depart Anchorage

Ship Log 12JUN2004 Wind Speed 10 knots Sea Temp +14C Air Temp +18C Weather Clear Crew Remarks Leave Anchorage under pleasant skies for a smooth sail down Cook Inlet, and spectacular views of volcanoes lining the inlets west side.

Denali Click on image for more pictures

Ship Log 13JUN2004 Wind Speed 6 knots Sea Temp +8C Air Temp +12C Weather Mixed Crew Remarks After roily early morning weather with good-size swell, we rounded the Kenai Peninsula to the bays and passages through Kenai Fjords National Park. At Holgate Glacier in Aialik Bay, we took Zodiac rides for close-up views of the glacier, and a variety of wildlife that included mountain goats.

Kenai Fjords Click on image for more pictures

Ship Log 14JUN2004 Wind Speed 6 knots Sea Temp +8C Air Temp +16C Weather Drizzly Crew Remarks Spent the whole day on Kodiak, also called "the rock", with tours and free time. Toured the Abercrombie Park and WWII Museum there, the Alutiiq Museum, the Baranof Museum, the Russian church, and the fisheries research center.

Kodiak Click on image for more pictures

We slept better, in part due to calmer seas. Waking about 5:30, we joined a few hardy souls on deck to watch the ship arrive in Kodiak. It was sunny very early, and there were some great photo opportunities. It was fun to eat breakfast outside and watch docking activities.

Kodiak is a fun little town, reminiscent of Petersburg. It's a fishing town, not a tourist center. The included tour had a high point in Ft. Abercrombie, which was a WWII Navy outpost. Galen got some great photos of the chocolate lily, which is fairly rare. We also took a fun picture of his "next Jeep project," an ancient WWII jeep in the museum. The museum itself is housed in the bunker used by the navy and is full of artifacts from the era.

The tour also visited a marine center and three museums downtown. Of these, the most interesting was the Alutiiq Museum, with its depictions of subsistence living. The Baranof museum is the oldest wooden Russian structure left in Alaska.

We skipped the end of the tour. Our guide pointed us to the direction of the brewery. "A long walk," but everything is relative, as it took about ten minutes. Although the brewery was closed, the owner/brewmaster was there. We sampled several beers in tasting glasses, and Galen had a good discussion about brewing. The owner has a beautiful logo, and we purchased some glasses and t-shirts. Galen also bought a growler, which is a moonshine-style jug of beer.

We went different ways in the afternoon. I explored the town. I wandered through "the mall," which was five stores. The grocery store was a fascinating mix of cultures. There was a huge Asian section, which I expected. And logically, but not anticipated, a large Russian section. My quest for dark chocolate went unfulfilled, but there was a great surprise in Hawaiian Sun juices. This was a treat, but it was a bit surreal to find these in Alaska. Kodiak is the second largest US island, after the Big Island, so perhaps there is a kind of karmic connection between the two. There is certainly a commercial connection!

Galen went flight seeing but didn't get any bear close-ups. He said the name "the emerald isle" is well deserved. The  float plane ride was also much smoother than the return from Denali. The flip side of the coin was the lack of bears. Fortunately for photos, we would see great bears the next morning.

Fort Abercrombie Click on image for more pictures

Flowers Click on image for more pictures

Around Town Click on image for more pictures

Ship Log 15JUN2004 Wind Speed 19 knots Sea Temp +8C Air Temp +9C Weather Rain Crew Remarks Zodiac tours of an inner bay of Katmai National Park, where we watched brown bears digging for clams. Other wildlife highlights were eagles, a sea otter, and ash-covered mountains from the 1912 Katmai eruption.

Katmai and Geographic Bay Click on image for more pictures

Ship Log 16JUN2004 Wind Speed 12 knots Sea Temp +17C Air Temp +14C Weather Sunny Crew Remarks We passed the Shumagin Islands, a treeless landscape of volcanic origin. At the Haystack Islands, we lingered with about a dozen feeding humpback whales, and saw sea otters and several species of birds as well. This is our longest cruising day so far, in truly Pacific seas, along the length of the Alaska peninsula.

Unga Island Click on image for more pictures

We actually slept in today! We didn't get to breakfast until after 7:30. It's fun to go to the bistro on the sports deck, in part because that's where the crew eats.

Our breakfast delay turned into a breakfast delight. First we saw the smoky plumes of humpbacks surfacing far off, then closer, and then it seemed we were surrounded by whales. I think I have several good photos; Galen certainly does. We thought we were past the whales several times, even with the captain turning languorous circles in the strait. Finally, we were sitting down for eggs or a last cup of coffee, and a humpback surfaced right next to the ship. We heard a chuffing noise, which was the humpback blowing, and raced to the  side andsuddenly, there were more! They were ten to fifteen feet, yes feet and not yards, away. The starboard side was full of whales; four or five surfacing so we could smell the fishy breath, and see their backs and flukes in detail. It was amazing, profound, a life moment. And then they sang. We could hear them, and can confirm that the various "songs of the whale" CDs have captured the sounds correctly. Who knows what they said? This continued for a half-hour, maybe more. Its one of those events where time changes, where every moment seems an eternity and yet later, it was all over in an instant. Everyone on deck again relaxed and started to go back to breakfast. And again, they came close. I am standing at the rail and a whale surfaces so close to the boat that it seems flukes and keel would touch. We had three humpbacks playing off the stern for another instant of eternity. Its not the photos that were taken, that might show others a piece of the moment, but instead the sense of touching the infinite, of bonding in some immeasurable way with an alien intelligence, of wondering if their song is a plea to humans to respect their home. It was a breakfast beyond words.

I stayed on deck for a while. The sky was cloudy but not rainy. The whales continued to follow us, paralleling our course at a distance. At the morning meeting, there was a moment of disappointment. Anchoring and hiking on the Shumagin Islands is canceled. With yesterday's low ceiling, the float plane wasn't able to bring the pilot to join us. The captain and crew tried all sorts of plans, but we'll be motoring slowly today. The disappointment was only a moment. Its sunny with calm seas and we are in Alaska! Anything else is a bonus.

We spent the day at sea. It was sunny with very calm seas. We sat in the hot tub during a fruit-carving exhibition and a Yupik dance class, and then just sat on deck in the sunshine. Galen even got a bit of sunburn where his robe was opened. One funny aspect of being on the fifth deck while the dance class was starting was learning how many people had not yet explored the ship. Its the fifth day on board, yet we had several people come up and ask us where the dance class was and how to get there.

Shumagin Islands click on image to enlarge

Shumagin Islands click on image to enlarge

Sea birds


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Ship Log 17JUN2004 Wind Speed 8 knots Sea Temp +8C Air Temp +9C Weather Drizzle Crew Remarks We cruised through Akutan Pass in the morning, surrounded by many species of pelagic birds, including the rare whiskered auklet. We spent the afternoon in Dutch Harbor and Unalaska, touring a war memorial, the Museum of the Aleutians, and viewing eagles.

Dutch Harbor Click on image for more pictures

It's interesting that the ship log says the weather was drizzle, because it was a mostly sunny day. At breakfast, we saw whales in the distance, but we were making speed toward Dutch Harbor and didn't stop. There were a lot of seabirds as we passed through the straits at Baby Island. One of the birders added eleven birds to her life list today.

The real attraction today was Unalaska Island and Dutch Harbor. This is a huge fishing area and another "real" town. The head of the chamber of commerce wants to promote the town to eco-tourism and small boats.

The included tour was interesting, especially the Museum of the Aleuts and some of the wildlife we saw on the outskirts of town. We raced to the two grocery stores near one of the tour stops. Galen's new photo card is not playing nice with the Roadster and we are running out of CDs to download the photos to. Fortunately, we were lucky enough to find a few.

The jewel of the afternoon was a scouting hike with Jack and Nancy. They had invited us to climb a hill near the boat dock. For the first fifteen minutes, I wasn't sure that I was fit enough! Then I got my second wind, and we just hiked. After I get through the first bit, and take a water break, then I can hike at a steady pace all day. We went up for over an hour and it was fascinating. We saw the remnants of pillboxes and gun emplacements and military buildings and bunkers. We did get most of the way to the top before our turnaround time. We crested a hill where we could see the other side of the island. There were two large gun emplacements facing the open sea. The hills were incredibly green and fairly steep. The buildings have collapsed on themselves and the metal bits are rusting away.

Galen and I went inside one of the bunkers. It was a giant metal drainage tube, big enough to drive a truck into, or at least a Jeep. At the end was an open metal door that led to an empty concrete room. We didn't have flashlights, which would have made it more possible to explore further. Galen estimated the size at 20 by 30 feet from what we could see through the partially open door. It smelled strongly of skunk but there are none on the island. Perhaps this was fox, which is also musky and marks its areas and dens with scent. On the included tour, we had seen two foxes so this seems a likely theory.

It was a great, initially strenuous but then moderate, fun hike. I started off with too many layers, based on the temperature at the boat. I ended up in just a long-sleeved T-shirt. It felt like a private view of the island, and I was honored that we were invited on the trek. Im pretty sure that we wouldn't have done this on our own, or if we did, we wouldn't have had as good a sense of the turnaround time.

Our reward was crab for dinner, which was excellent. For once, I didn't feel guilty about dessert! At dinner, we discussed that we were west of Hawaii, which initially didn't seem possible to some. A check of the world map on the Oceanus deck convinced everyone. The evening program was Jack sharing the creation legend of the Yupik people. It was another captivating performance.

Wildlife around Dutch Harbor Click on image for more pictures

The Hike Click on image for more pictures

Ship Log 18JUN2004 Wind Speed 20 knots Sea Temp +5C Air Temp +6C Weather Cloudy Crew Remarks We reached St. George, one of the Pribilof Islands, and used Zodiacs to travel to a boat ramp. We walked around the village, which is home to 120 Aleut people. Stops included the seal processing plant (closed, but used for many years during commercial sealing), a seal blind, bird cliffs, a Russian Orthodox church, and a small hotel.

St. George Island Click on image for more pictures

As we approach St. George, I keep seeing black dots on the shore. My first thought is "what huge birds!" Then reason takes over, and I wonder "sheep? What do they eat in winter?" It was fur seals, dotting the slopes like raisins in a scone. As we travel closer, I can see the individual seals and watch them. In years past, seals covered these slopes as a solid mass, but global warming is taking a toll on the population.

St. George is a small island that some would see as desolate. Its incredibly rich in wildlife. We walked from town to the fur seal blind. We were confronted with the coping mechanism of islanders everywhere "what, so far? Its over a mile to walk!" It was an easy walk, especially compared to yesterdays hill hike! The tundra is so richly green. Later in the evening, someone said that it reminded them of Scotland, and we learned that St. George and Scotland are at the same latitude.

The seal rookery was fun, it's amazing that the males haul out of the ocean in June and stay ashore, without eating, until October. The females arrive onshore in late June, have pups, and also stay ashore for a few days. Then they will leave pups for a week or so at a time, going to sea to feed. We took the bus back and wandered around town.

There was a narrated tour of the closed seal processing plant, where the speaker had worked for 25 years. They would get up at 3:30 to drive seals to the killing fields. After clubbing them, they would skin them there, and the women would work with the meat. The men would take the skins to the plant, and put the skins in huge tubs of running sea water for 30 hours. These tubs were the size of small rooms, say four feet high by eight feet by sixteen feet. The plant we were in, the only one on St. George, but smaller than the St. Paul plant, had eight of these tubs.

Next stage was to blubber the skins, which our narrator had done. Using a curved two-handled blade and a slanted board, the men scraped blubber from the skins. Next, skins were soaked in brine for another thirty hours, in a round tank big enough to lunge a horse in. After removing skins from the brine, the men salted them, rolled them into barrels, and sent them to St. Louis for final tanning. Final tanning involved removing the coarse outer guard hairs, dying and ironing the pelt. Then it was ready to be made into clothing.

It struck me, how did they decide on thirty hours? Was it trial and error? And what happened if, for example, the skins only soaked for twenty hours? Were they ruined?

It also struck me how incredibly soft the pelt was. We had mink and beaver to compare, and pelts at various stages of the process. The finished pelt was softer than anything I've felt. Velvet feels like burlap in comparison. It makes you understand why everyone wanted one of these.

Galen took close-ups of birds along the cliff and I wandered among the tide pools. Mussels, limpets, and seaweed scattered along the rocks.

We had a bit of excitement on the way back to the ship. One of the Zodiacs has a recurring problem with the engine dying. We happened to get this Zodiac for the trip. About halfway back to the ship, probably a quarter-mile from shore, the motor sputtered and died. The swell wasn't too bad, it wasn't windy, and the weather was clear. I wasn't worried, nor was Galen. Some of the other passengers became stressed almost immediately, asking our driver to call the ship for a transfer. I thought, perhaps a tow, but none of you could jump from Zodiac to Zodiac even in this moderate swell. The Alaska saying is "50/50" for unexpected dips in the ocean, meaning that the average swimmer has a 50% chance of surviving a 50-yard swim. A couple minutes of fiddling with fuel lines, and we were on our way.

Birds on the cliff


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We left St. George in fairly cold weather and cloudy skies. The weather continued to get worse and we woke to cloudy, windy weather. This was a long open sailing day, with plans to arrive at Nash Harbor in Nunivak shortly after lunch. We arrived a bit late, but the seas were huge. The day before, in St. George, we used Zodiacs off the fantail (stern) of the ship. The crew was very helpful, but it was good to be agile and know how to time the swell to make the hop from the ship to the Zodiac. Today, the seas are much higher and there is a lot of fog. At least in St. George, the skies were clear and everyone could see a straightforward path to the ship.

We circled about in the harbor area for a while, hoping the fog would clear. The crew talked with the Nash Harbor folks, and developed a new plan. Three of the Nash Harbor residents came out to the ship in a small covered boat. We had a better understanding of the size of the swell by watching the small boat climb up and then fall into the troughs. I think that anyone who watched agreed with the decision to cancel the Zodiac excursions.

Nash Harbor hosts a summer camp for teens and adults, teaching them about traditional ways of life. One of our speakers is on leave from the Army, stationed in the interior, and gave a great description of the camp, life in Nunivak, and how he lives among two worlds. The residents had sent several boxes of crafts along with the boat, and these sold out quickly. I purchased a hair ribbon of qiviut, the undercoat of the musk ox. Jack later explained that when Russians began working with Native cultures, they assigned patterns to each village. The villagers still follow the assigned patterns, even though they are no longer required to do so. Experienced eyes can tell by looking at a scarf, or headband, or pair of mittens, where the item was made.

Day 9: Savoonga

Ship Log 20JUN2004 Wind Speed 16 knots Sea Temp +8C Air Temp +10C Weather Cloudy Crew Remarks Spirit of Oceanus is the first cruise ship ever to visit the Siberian Yupik community of Savoonga on St. Lawrence Island. Zodiacs landed on the beach between two dead minke whales, and we took walking tours of the village. Everyone gathered in the school gym for a presentation on whaling and subsistence culture. Villagers had been working for months to create exquisite ivory carvings and other crafts, to sell to passengers.

Savoonga Click on image for more pictures

One of today's highlights was Jacks presentation in the morning, while we were still traveling to Savoonga. His talk was titled "Of Igloos and Orphans: Alaska Native Myths and Legends." As we have experienced with other presentations, he skillfully blended a story with humor and an underlying message. Jack explained how most white people have views of "Eskimos" that are founded in the movie "Nanook of the North." Originally a silent movie, it starts by showing Nanook and his family leaving for a journey. Jack points out that the fatal mistake of the cameraman was not to turn around and show Nanook's village. Along the way, the family is stuck in a storm on the ice, and Nanook builds an igloo. The silent movie had a plate explaining that this was a "temporary shelter, never to be used again." Yet, even today, how many children are taught that "Eskimos live in igloos." In the later version, the narrator even states that this is a temporary home, never to be used again. From this, the Native conclusion is obvious. White people can't read, and they don't listen. My summary is far briefer and far less entertaining than Jack's entertaining version.

We saw another world today, of the Siberian Yupik in Savoonga on St. Lawrence Island. Were still in Alaska, but so remote. We are the first cruise ship ever to visit the town. The townspeople all zipped around on their four-wheelers, and everyone we saw said "welcome to Savoonga!" They had been preparing beautiful carvings for weeks in anticipation of our arrival. It's a very different lifestyle, and "subsistence" seems to diminish it, to make it less than the harmony with nature that it is.

All the guides had practiced, and all were very proud of the village. They gave a fascinating tour of the village, and a talk in the school gym. The mix of old and new was at times incongruous, such as when we saw baleen piled up next to ATV parts. Another time, we saw a whale jawbone, waiting for carving, lying next to a snowmachine. Butterflied walrus hides stretched on racks in the sun, and seal hides were stretched and tacked to shed walls. Seal meat and fish hung on drying racks in the sun.

Our tour ended in the school gym, with a whaling demonstration. The elders spoke Yupik, which was translated to English for us. One of the speakers was the last sled dog mailman in America. I asked our guide about women and whaling. Captaining a whaling expedition is a position of honor and experience, not inheritance. This year, there is one woman whaling captain. Her husband died last year, but her position as captain  isn't based on his passing alone, but also on her expertise. The logical follow-up question, which I didn't think to ask, was if there could be more than one whaling captain in a family.

There were several dead minke whales on the beach, including one on each side of the Zodiac landing site. One had been harvested by hunters and another washed up dead this morning, with obvious wounds from orcas. Other passengers had hiked along the beach and found other dead whales two harvested and two washed ashore dead. The village uses what it can from whales washed ashore, but often cannot use the meat because it has spoiled even in these frigid waters.

Back on board in Savoonga, someone commented in the days debrief about the "meager" existence of the town. This made me angry, because it showed that the passenger did not understand that the lives of these people are very rich. Savoonga has reached a harmony with existence on this planet, not succumbing to the materialism that runs rampant in the Lower 48. This isn't the "noble savage" idea of 19^th century literature, but an approach in alignment with today's movement to "live the simple life". The difference is that the people of Savoonga have a rich heritage of tradition as background, and today's movement attempts to find a path through materialism without an underpinning belief system.

In Alaska, there are still white spaces on the map. This is true on both land and on sea. While we were ashore, Giovanni was in a Zodiac traversing the waters between ship and shore. We anchored fairly far out, in part because the waters around Savoonga are a white space. Giovanni took soundings, and will later map the area, and provide maps to others. Its part of the lure of Alaska that the white spaces still exist. I feel no need to fill them in; in fact, a part of me wishes the white spaces to forever remain.

Most of the other passengers turned in early after leaving Savoonga and having dinner. All fathers were wished a happy day, and for the first time this trip, I missed the availability of telephones! There were only a few of us up to see the arrival into Russia. We were allowed to watch the tug come along side, but as soon as the Russian border guards boarded the ship, it was time to leave. We were not allowed to take any photos. For the duration of our stay in Russia, we will stay on ship-time and not local time. Oddly enough, if we had switched to local time, we would have missed the day of the summer solstice.

We left Provideniya Bay in very early morning. I awoke about 5:30, as we moved into open ocean and hit some swell. While the swell was moderate, it was a definite change from the waters of the bay.

Ship Log 21JUN2004 Wind Speed 10 knots Sea Temp +10C Air Temp +12C Weather Cloudy, drizzle Crew Remarks We landed on the Russian coast, at an important archeological site where a 2000-year-old whaling culture hunted bowhead and gray whales. The site is thought to be ceremonial, with whale skulls arranged upside down in lines and other whale bones forming arches. Fog and ice kept us from the nearby village of Yanrakynnot.

Whale Bone Alley Click on image for more pictures

Morning in Russian waters is very foggy and rainy, which seems a metaphor for the country. The metaphor remains apt throughout our stay in Russia. We didn't see the sun until returning to American waters.

The most memorable aspect of today is the visit to Whalebone Alley on Itygrin Island. This is an ancient site, something like a Stonehenge for Russia. No one is sure exactly how this site was used, but it's clear to both of us that this was a holy place. When we could get away from the flock of passengers, the energy reminded me of Honaunau in Hawaii. Looking beneath the obvious whale skulls, there were even older groupings of skulls almost sunk into the permafrost. The beach was littered with walrus skeletons. Whale jawbones formed arches and amphitheaters. No hunting has taken place here in recent memory-the site wasn't discovered until 1976. (More white spaces on the map.) I wonder how many other sites exist in remote places. Perhaps the key is that the possibility of these places exist, rather than the certainty. It leaves a sense of unexplored mystery.

Most of the morning was spent on Itygrin Island, looking at Whalebone Alley. We got very wet and cold. Once again, we were glad to have bought rain pants; otherwise, we would have been soaked through.

After a warming lunch, our next destination was a native village of Yanrakynnot. We ran into fog that became thicker and thicker. Then, we ran into ice. Big, big chunks of it. It wasn't icebergs as there are no glaciers nearby, and most of it wasn't sea ice. Most was huge chunks of land ice from last winter, broken away from the edges of islands. This wasn't too surprising, as the beach at Itygrin Island had been ice-covered. The rest of the ice was pack ice, broken away from far northern arctic waters. The ship slowed from 15 knots to a crawl. We aren't rated for ice, and even with our captain's experience, hitting one of these chunks would be unfortunate. We went up one channel, only to be blocked by pack ice. Then we went another way, and another way. The captain thought the fog might lift in late afternoon, but it never did. We missed the town. I feel for the villagers, who had prepared a dance presentation and food; and had spent winter creating crafts to sell.

The rest of the day is fairly quiet, as we don't have very far to travel by sea. Backing out of the ice-filled channels took some time. The fog never lifted. I think we spent most of the night driving around in either a slow circle or a figure eight. The swell kept changing direction on a fairly regular schedule.

Next to Whalebone Alley, the second highlight of the day is the evening presentation. Jack told the story of "the boy who ate too much". This was wonderfully entertaining, with the underlying messages of responsibility, learning from mistakes, and taking what you need, not what you think you want. As Jack later said, "it's the Yupik version of the old woman who swallowed a fly." We later found the printed version in Anchorage, albeit with a less satisfying ending. When reading, I can't help but see Jack in his storyteller attire, with white gloves drawing attention to his hand movements, turning a story into theater.

Not pictures of Yanrakynnot

 
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Ship Log 22JUN2004 Wind Speed 6 knots Sea Temp +12C Air Temp +14C Weather Cloudy Crew Remarks We landed at the Native village of New Chapelino, where we toured the town and were entertained with dance. We took buses to New Provideniya, where we toured the town and saw a superb cultural performance of Russian song and dance before rejoining the ship.

New Chapelino Click on image for more pictures

Arriving in New Chapelino was a contrast to Savoonga in so many ways. This native village did not have a single ATV, snowmachine, or privately owned vehicle. The boats were all battered, and there was less walrus and seal meet hanging to dry. The village is getting new housing, almost identical to the houses in Savoonga. The village had done a massive cleanup for the visit. No cruise ships visited New Chapelino last year, but they have done so in previous years. Our visit isn't quite the watershed as at Savoonga, where we were the first cruise ship ever to visit the town.

We went on a brief walking tour of the town, and waited in the school gym for the dance to begin. Some tried the muktuk (whale skin and blubber) and walrus, but with my cold, I passed. As with Savoonga, the town had many handicrafts to sell.

An interesting facet of the heritage of Native people in Russia Far East and Alaska is what was lost in the past to centuries of invasions. Especially in Soviet Russia, the Yupik (called Eskimo by the Russians) and other native cultures lost the breadth of their historical activities. Soviets relocated villages to areas they had never seen, and divided crafts as commerce, one craft to a village. As a result, a formerly cohesive group might be mixed together with a different culture; and then told they were all now walrus hunters, or all ivory carvers, or all fur sewers. The groups retained their identity by preserving their cultures of dancing and chanting. In contrast, Alaska natives had a mirrored existence. With "subsistence," they were free to retain an integrated lifestyle of living in harmony with land and sea. Their price for dealing with Amero-European cultures was a loss of pieces of their own culture. Children were forbidden to learn their own language, not permitted to wear traditional clothes, or to practice some aspects of their traditional religion. Oddly enough, the Soviets, who are seen as repressive, had less of an impact than the supposedly freethinking Americans. Some of this is changing, starting with the "freedom flights" of the 90s, where families separated decades ago were able to meet again. The suppressed puzzle pieces in each culture are helping both to regain a richer sense of identity.

I was struck by a common feature of both Savoonga and New Chapelino. Like Moorish sites in Europe, and like traditional New Mexico homes in the Lower 48, the windows and doors were bordered with an azure blue. This occurred only on the older homes, not on the new government-provided homes.

The "Rising Sun" dance troupe performed for us. They have traveled all over the world, which must be a huge challenge. How do they retain a sense of self when dealing with the challenges of post-9/11 travel? Two aspects that must be even more frustrating for them than for us are that the troupe is Russian; and second, that they speak little Russian or English.

The dancing was mesmerizing. One little girl was exquisite in her subtle and precise hand movements. Jack explained that precocious children are said to be "dancing with the elders." I could have watched all day, even in the broken-walled school gym. The drab exterior melted away.

In retrospect, the Native approach to living in Russia had a different richness than the "white Russian" approach of New Provideniya. If I were asked to choose between these two challenging lives, I would choose New Chapelino.

The transports to take us across the mountain to Provideniya were again something from a children's story, where the vehicles often have oversized tires and appear out of proportion to the landscape. The vehicles are renovated troop transports, with the original open back replaced by a cab with seven rows of seats. Although these buses are painted cheery shades of orange and blue, and have lace window curtains, they have no obvious suspension and only one window that partially opens. It was a fascinating ride, climbing via switch backs to a fabulous scenic view of the bay. From a passenger's perspective, the buses have a high center of gravity. They probably don't, even with their massive 42-inch tires. Dry rot and low tire pressure aside, I did peer over the side as we drove up the mountain. "Look ma, no guard rails!" This can be frighteningly disorienting when you are on a gravel road raised above the permafrost with steep mountainsides sloping away just inches below you.

Imagine if America had a state that was ten time zones away from Washington DC. With Alaska and Hawaii five time zones away, people in these states feel disconnected from the East Coast; as if it's a different, barely relevant culture. Now imagine if the time difference is doubled, so that there is no overlap in the workday. Add in a bankrupt central government that struggles to maintain the infrastructure in Moscow and a few other large cities. The result is Provideniya. Ten hours separate it from an indifferent Moscow.

An example of the infrastructure issues occurred in our guided tour of the local museum. All the other rooms were dark, and our museum guide explained that this was to save on electricity. About halfway through explaining the display cases in the room, the lights went out. Much discussion between our guide and someone downstairs, where the switches were, ensued. After a couple minutes, our guide announced that we would be moving downstairs to rooms with windows. Other groups who visited the museum later in the day reported that the power was eventually restored, one room at a time, and that we had missed some extraordinary examples of ivory carving.

The drab exterior and infrastructure decay masks a rich interior. We were treated to a lavish performance at the cultural center. Beautiful costumes, with glitter sparkling under the lights, professional and professionally made-up performers, gave a stark contrast with the potholed partially-paved streets, buildings with broken windows and crumbling facades, and the few ancient vehicles in the streets. The performance was fabulous. Adults and children sang Russian folk songs, performed folk dances and classical ballet, and showed examples of Russian Far East culture. My favorite was the children's examples of games they play.

One game is a form of "duck, duck, goose" in America, where the child who is "it" runs around the outside of a circle and drops a hankie behind someone. The new hankie owner must chase the child who is "it". If the new hankie owner doesn't catch "it", then she becomes "it." A new game to me involved balancing a two-foot dowel, like a broomstick, with one finger for as long as possible. With both these games, passengers were invited to join the children. For the broomstick game, our Exploration leader held the broomstick for a count of fourteen, nearly double everyone else!

Some of us walked the half-mile back to the ship, which was more refreshing than the buses. I think everyone was tired, and has a new appreciation of what we take for granted in America and Europe. Both New Chapelino and Provideniya had made clear efforts to upgrade as much as possible, to welcome us with food and drink, and to share their cultures with us. New Chapelino had bulldozed and graded their streets to make walking easier. In Provideniya, we saw fresh mortar over drainage ditches and new guide ropes along the pier walkway to the ship. Our bus driver had built a brand new plywood box to help passengers reach the first ladder-step into the bus. I hope our passengers and future passengers can see and appreciate these efforts, and see beneath the exterior.

An interesting bit of education is that we had all called this place Siberia. Officially, Siberia is the part of Russia between the Ural Mountains and the Lena River. Everything else, including the Kamchatka and Chukokta peninsulas, is considered the Russian Far East.

Yup'ik Dancing Click on image for more pictures

The road to Providenia Click on image for more pictures

Providenia Click on image for more pictures

Ship Log 23JUN2004 Wind Speed 10 knots Sea Temp +12C Air Temp +16C Weather Clear Crew Remarks We leave Russia, and fog, to travel north above the Arctic Circle, the land and sea of the Midnight sun.

Polar Bear Club Click on image for more pictures

Our last day at sea was familiar fog and occasional drizzle. Seas were fairly calm, which has been a general and unexpected trend. When we have experienced bigger swells, we have also had a following sea most of the time.

Our experience with the seas may be part of a larger phenomenon. All the native cultures lived intimately with the land until the disruptions that occurred with the arrival of Western cultures. Native cultures passed down details of weather through the generations. It was vital to survival to know when the fur seals would beach themselves, when the whales would migrate, when the sea ice would melt, when new shoots of plants could be gathered, and on and on. Time was focused on cycles of the moon since the sun was unreliable. It was not present for some months, and always visible for others. Part of children's education was learning the weather for their summer and winter homes. The elders told us that they stopped teaching the weather about twenty-five years ago. They said the weather was no longer teachable. Nothing was behaving according to countless centuries of knowledge. Rather than teach children what they recognized to be wrong, they simply stopped. Twenty-five years ago, they stopped. They stopped before "global warming" was a recognized phrase, before glaciers retreated across Alaska, before many bird species declined precipitously, before fur seals all but disappeared, and before the snow crab industry collapsed.

We didn't listen then, and we aren't listening now. Twenty-five years ago, there was more awareness of ecology and conservation than there is today. I wonder about the voices that are being lost, about the elders who no longer teach the weather. Generations of detailed knowledge of the subtle changes and larger cycles are imbedded in lessons not taught. As the last generation of teachers leaves us, who will know? Who will be able to say, "this is how it was for all time past, and now it is not"? Who will help others to see if balance is returning, or at least if a recognizable pattern is emerging?

The fog and grey and unexpected calm of the Bering Sea is simply another example. All morning, we steam through ghostly gauze, relying on electronics to navigate, because there is no sun, there is no sky. As we near the Arctic Circle, the weather becomes a beacon of possibility.

Fog fades into a cloudless blue sky, and the seas calm to near stillness. Of the 118 passengers, fourteen of us stand on deck in bathing suits and robes, waiting. The ships small pool is filled with Arctic Ocean water, as we pass that magic latitude. One at a time, we take off robes, and jump into the pool. I am third, the first woman. Another passenger, who said he would not be able to do this after watching others reactions, was first, and then Galen. Both almost levitated into the hot tub, so I know at some level that the water is cold. I jump in, and at first, it doesn't seem that bad. Then, following the plan, I put my head fully under, to join the "polar bear club". Instantly, my breath is sucked out of my lungs like a vacuum hose is attached to my mouth. The muscles in my chest contract, trying to shrink around my heart to keep it warm. I surface gasping and blind, because I have closed my eyes. I wipe the icy water away and stumble to the ladder, thankful that the water is not deep enough to require full swimming. Eleven others follow and we crowed into the small hot tub, restoring both warmth and sanity. We did this voluntarily; and I wonder how those in accidents at sea survive more than a few minutes. From the ships doctor, I have learned that it's nearly impossible to die from hypothermia in these waters. Long before your core temperature can be lowered to hypothermic levels, all your muscles cramp to immobility. At first, this doesn't sound bad, if rescue is nearby. Then, I realize that "all" includes the muscles that power heart and lungs, and are not under voluntary control. What I experienced for seconds in an arctic dip is what happens. In these waters, your heart and lungs simply stop.

Immediately after our polar-bear dip, the fog rolled in again. We sail into a headwind and into six to eight feet of swell. This is the roughest sailing of the trip, almost as if the Bering Sea is sending a message of what we could have experienced. Our bow wake is huge, and once again I stand on the top deck staring down into turquoise iridescence and white foam. I have spent a lot of time here this trip, and almost always have been alone. It's been a sanctuary of solitude and peace. While the ship is beautiful, the opulence is overwhelming at times, at odds with the way of life we visit onshore. Here on the sixth deck, there is just what exists, sea and wind and sky, with broad vistas or foggy glimpses depending on natures whims.

Ship Log 24JUN2004 Weather Rain Crew Remarks We arrive in Nome in early morning, and clear American customs. Passengers depart for a tour of the city, lunch, and a charter flight to Anchorage. The crew "flips the ship" for arriving passengers on the reverse trip, who embark later today.

Nome Click on image for more pictures