Alaska - The Celtic Connection

Baby Polar Bear Courtesy of Photobucket

Nearly everywhere I’ve traveled, I’ve found something Celtic to weave into the stories I write. Last month's Alaskan cruise proved a challenge in this respect. A recent Trinity College Dublin study states that ancient hanky-panky between Irish brown bears and prehistoric polar bears produced the modern polar bear. Would that do? Probably not. It wasn’t until the end of the trip that I found the Alaskan/Celtic connection I needed to enhance my work-in-progress.

Despite all the shore excursions and cruise activities, I got some work done. Stealing a block of writing time (and a Kir Royale or two) in one of the ship’s secluded spots proved no hardship. By the end of the voyage, I’d managed to draft three chapters of Autumn Glimmer, a young adult adventure set in Ireland, and the sequel to Glancing Through the Glimmer, scheduled for release this November. I’ve spent months reading mythology and archaeology books to spruce up my knowledge of water fairies, lake monsters, and crannogs, man-made islands built in lakes and rivers by prehistoric and medieval people. Fairies and monsters make sense to me. The crannogs do not.

Ten months have passed since I blogged about my visit to the Connemara Heritage and History Centre to view a reconstructed crannog. Archaeologists have dated these lake dwellings to prehistoric times. Written history tells us the Irish still inhabited them during the Elizabethan period, when they served as forts, arsenals, and hideouts. Who first built these strange abodes? And for all the toil it took to construct them, why did they bother?

Theories abound; I’ll note a few here. In Mesolithic times, impenetrable forests covered Ireland. Lakes and rivers served as the people’s highways, and they might have built crannogs as clan gathering places during seasonal festivals. Still, I can’t help wondering why the people didn’t simply fell a few trees and build houses. The idea that they venerated trees and refused to cut them down doesn’t work. They set plenty of tree trunks into the lake beds as foundations for their crannogs.

Did they live on the water because they felt the woodlands belonged to the forest gods they very likely worshiped? Or did they fear the wild boars, wolves, bears, and gigantic, lethally antlered deer who lived in the woods? Perhaps the ancients revered a sun god and had to go out on the lake to commune with him because the dense forest canopy blocked the sky. Then there’s the idea that if clearing land for cattle and crops proved more labor intensive than building crannogs, the people would consider their precious arable and pasture too valuable to waste on human habitation.

Crannogs clearly housed a wide range of social classes over the ages. In addition to weapons, sewing needles, and tradesmen’s tools, archaeologists have unearthed precious objects only the privileged classes could have afforded. The discovery of manacles suggests some crannogs served as prisons. Most experts believe pre-Celtic peoples used crannogs as storage facilities, for shelter and defense, and for platforms from which they tossed votive offerings to assuage lake gods. Some crannogs stood as single structures. Temples or shrines? Others formed entire "water towns." Why?

In my recent post describing the end of my Alaskan cruise, I mentioned a catamaran trip to Misty Fjords, a glacially carved wilderness accessible only by boat or plane. In a small inlet called God’s Pocket, the naturalist on board narrated the Native American history of the area. She also described how the mountains teemed with bald eagles, brown and black bears, moose, wolverines, river otters, black-tailed deer, mountain goats, mink, beavers, and foxes. She pointed out a rocky ledge frequently crossed by wolf packs. Spruce, hemlock, and cedar covered the steep slopes right down to the shore. No hiking trails pierced the trees, and hikers who dared to explore the region often lost their way.

Gazing out at the fiercely beautiful scenery, I sensed an odd kinship with the first crannog builders. I felt eerily safe on the tour boat, and I was only visiting the area for a few short hours. For superstitious peoples living their entire lives in such a ruggedly primitive world, a crannog must have imparted an otherworldly sense of security, a mystical, life-giving refuge whose protective waters provided food and simplified travel.

I already have my lake monster and a troop of mischievous water fairies. I think I’m good to go.

Juneau and Ketchikan

Juneau From the Ship

Alaska’s Gastineau Channel, a prized fishing ground for the native Alaskan Tlingit people for thousands of years, provides the scenic setting for Juneau. The capital of Alaska since 1906, this former mining town came into being shortly after two prospectors, Joe Juneau and Richard Harris, arrived in 1880 and learned from Chief Kowee of the presence of gold in a nearby creek. By the mid 1940s, gold mining had declined, leaving the government as the basis of Juneau’s economy. Alaska became a state in 1959, and plans to move the capital to a larger city fell through. Today the lucrative trades of fishing and tourism augment the business of governing the state.





We began our tour with a stroll along the city’s main street and visited lots of gift shops, some touristy, most exhibiting lovely works of locally produced art. At a row of tour stalls on the pier, we booked a bus tour to see both the city and the famous Mendenhall Glacier, a dazzling frozen river that sprouts from the Juneau Icefield.

The Mendenhall Glacier

The Ice Up Close - So Blue!

The Crystal Symphony Docked in Juneau

The next day, the Symphony docked at Ketchikan, the "Salmon Capital of the World." The busy harbor teemed with seaplanes and boats, and though the frontier streets beckoned, we wouldn’t have time for a stroll through the town, much of which perched on pilings over the water. We had booked a 5-hour catamaran cruise to Misty Fjords National Monument.

Ketchikan also bears the dubious distinction of the "Rain Capital of Alaska." We began our tour in the covered top deck wondering if the drizzly gray skies would be with us all day. Soon, we were out on deck, for the weather cleared as we made our way through a lush green wilderness carved out by glaciers. Using an entertaining storytelling style, a knowledgeable naturalist told us of the geology, ecology, and history of the areas we visited. For me, Misty Fjords, which provides a breathtakingly beautiful habitat for bald eagles, wolves, bears, deer, moose, fox, and goats, and other sea and animal life, was the highlight of the cruise.

Misty Fjords

New Eddystone Rock (Volcanic Formation)

One of Misty Fjord's Many Waterfalls

Water Deep Green from the Trees
 and the Minerals on the Lake Bed

We spent two relaxing days at sea returning to San Francisco and the Golden Gate Bridge, enjoying the Captain’s Formal Farewell dinner along the way. We’d had a wonderful time, seen lots of gorgeous scenery, eaten some great food, met new friends, even played a game of Mexican Train Dominoes with my aunt and uncle. I hope to enjoy another Crystal cruise one day and hear Louie Armstrong warbling "What a Wonderful World" as the ship departs each port.

♪ Oh, yeah! ♫

Skagway

We woke to find the sea filled with good-sized chunks of ice, some with seals aboard. The captain announced that the icy conditions ruled out our scheduled trip to the Hubbard Glacier. Though disappointed, the passengers made no complaint. We sailed out to sea and on to Skagway.

At the height of the Klondike Gold Rush, prospectors entered the goldfields through Skagway. Surrounded by snow-capped mountains, this frontier town sits at the head of the Taiya Inlet on the northern end of the Lynn Canal, a fjord on Alaska’s Inside Passage. Skagway derives its name from Schkagua, a native Alaskan Tlingit word meaning "Home of the North Wind." The wind blew nonstop as we strolled along the old-fashioned boardwalks, and the locals told us it does so every day of the year.

A Quick Walk into Town

Statue of Gold Rush Prospectors

Skagway's Main Street

The restored buildings look as they did in the late 1890s, when Skagway was the largest town in Alaska. A few saloons remain, but most of the businesses are geared toward tourism now. We visited several jewelry and souvenir stores and the museums tucked between them.

Wax Figures in a Saloon Museum

Nothing special in the jewelry stores, I thought. Then I spotted a display of ivory jewelry carved from woolly mammoth tusks. I had to ask about it, as I thought such relics would be in a museum. The store owner told me that mastodon and mammoth tusks still turn up everywhere in Alaska, most notably in river beds, where they pop out as the soil washes down. Depending on whether the tusks are found on private, public, or federal land, forms are filled out, the paleontologists have a look, and if they don’t want it, the finder of the tusk is free to dispose of it as he or she wishes.

A Mammoth Tusk

Next up: Juneau

Sitka, Alaska

A day at sea gave the Crystal Symphony’s talented chefs a chance to present their Grand Gala Buffet, a fantasy of culinary delights. From the ice sculptures to the vibrant displays of delicious food, they put on a fabulous show.

Early the next sunny morning, the Symphony stopped at Sitka, the former capital of Russian America. Nestled in a jewel of a harbor surrounded by snow-capped mountains thick with spruce trees, Sitka is reputedly one of the prettiest towns in Alaska.


Russian explorer Alexander Baranof arrived in the area in 1799. After defeating the native Alaskan Tlingits in a series of bloody battles, he established a colony/trading post, which he called New Archangel. The Russians sold Alaska to the United States in 1867, and the town received its current name. Sitka is derived from Sheet’ká, a native phrase meaning People on the Outside of Shee, "Shee" being the Tlingit name for Baranof Island.

The ship anchored out in the harbor, and we took the tender in to explore. We toured St. Michael’s Cathedral, a Russian Orthodox church built in the mid-nineteenth century that houses an array of religious treasures and artwork.

St. Michael's Cathedral, Sitka

A stroll along the scenic waterfront brought us to the Sitka National Historical Park, where we watched a documentary on the history of Sitka from three different perspectives: the Tlingit view, the Russian view, and the American view.

We only had a few hours in Sitka. I would have liked another day! The tender brought us back to the Symphony for a hurried lunch, after which we boated back into town for an afternoon excursion aboard the Sea Life Discovery. From this ingenious semi-submersible vessel, we viewed several fascinating underwater habitats, including an eel grass bed and a giant kelp forest. A diver went down with a video camera to show us some fantastic sea life. We enjoyed a cruise through Sitka’s scenic harbor, and at the end of our tour, our Tlingit guide told us that his language has no word for good-bye, only "Until we meet again."

Victoria and Vancouver

Himalayan Blue Poppy / Butchart Gardens

Frequent rain showers keep things green in the Pacific Northwest. No worries. We’ve visited Ireland too often to let weather interfere with a trip. Along with our rain gear, we packed sunscreen and visored hats (my husband's Red Sox baseball cap generated some interesting conversations with Vancouver hockey fans). For our first stop, we were glad we did.

We spent our first full day on the Crystal Symphony at sea, a relaxing cruise that ended in the lavish Captain’s Welcome Dinner. The next morning, we docked at Vancouver Island’s Ogden Point Pier in Victoria, the capital of Vancouver, British Columbia.

Captain James Cook discovered the island in the late 1700's. The British traders who settled there named the sparsely settled island after Queen Victoria. In 1858, the gold rush brought a population boom. Victoria, now a popular destination for tourists, is nicknamed the "City of Gardens," and with good reason.

Delighted to have a sunny day, we visited the renowned Butchart Gardens. Our tour began with high tea in the house that cement mogul Robert Butchart built around the turn of the twentieth century for Jennie, his dynamic bride. When Robert’s cement business tapped out the property’s limestone quarry, Jennie transformed the place into a spectacular sunken garden. The Butchart family still supervises the estate and have added hundreds of exotic plantings over the years. Now a 55-acre paradise, it includes Japanese, Italian, and Rose gardens. Our June 4th visit was too early for the roses, but the rhododendrons were in full bloom and surrounded us with rainbows of color.

We sailed off that evening and docked the next day in Vancouver City. Sunshine graced us again as we headed to the waterfront for a stroll through the historic Gastown district, Vancouver's first downtown section. Gastown was named after steamboat captain and saloon keeper "Gassy" Jack Deighton, who arrived in 1867 and opened the area's first saloon. His rough, tough customers hailed from the ranks of loggers, sailors, trappers, and fishermen.

"Gassy" Jack Deighton

Gastown’s most famous landmark, the Gastown Steam Clock, covers a steam grate that is part of Vancouver's steam-heat system. The clock not only works by harnessing the steam beneath it, it prevents vagrants from sleeping on the spot in cold weather.

The sun still shone when we returned to the ship, and we relaxed in the top deck’s open air hot tub. Vancouver surrounded us, as did other cruise ships. Seaplanes, a common sight in the area, buzzed in and out of the water.

Vancouver

The Crystal Symphony spent another day at sea on her way to Alaska, and the crew had plans to keep us busy.

North to Alaska

My husband and I have always wanted to visit Alaska. We decided we'd cruise to The Last Frontier to celebrate a major wedding anniversary. Two years ago, we thoroughly enjoyed sailing around the British Isles with Crystal Cruises (see Cruising Into History), and we didn't hesitate to book our Alaskan adventure with them.

Before we departed from San Francisco, we enjoyed a brief visit with my intrepid aunt and uncle, who live in northern California’s idyllic Sonoma County. John and Diane would be cruising with us, and though they were busy packing, they found time for a daytrip to the Alexander Valley.

We visited Geyserville, where, set in the midst of acres of vineyards, Francis Ford Coppola added a park and Movie Gallery to his outstanding winery. Displays of props and memorabilia that include Don Corleone's desk from "The Godfather" and costumes from "Dracula" delighted us. Mr. Coppola’s countless awards had a showcase of their own. After touring the sunny grounds, which included a swimming pool and bocce ball court, we enjoyed a delicious lunch in Rustic, the winery’s restaurant, whose menu ranged from burgers and fries to classic Italian cuisine. And delicious wine, of course.

A Few of Francis Ford Coppola's Awards

Godfather Don Corleone's Desk

Various Movie Costumes

Mike, Me, Diane, and John Outside the
Francis Ford Coppola Winery Guest Reception Area

Our departure date arrived. My husband and uncle did a stellar job of fitting luggage for four into Diane’s car. We drove to San Francisco and boarded the gorgeous Crystal Symphony, which had taken the four of us around the British Isles.
 

The Crystal Symphony

The crew led us to the main dining room for a pre-departure lunch that included complimentary champagne. It all came back to me: the waiter holds my chair, and after he seats me, he unfolds the napkin and sets it in my lap. Oh, yes. We’re going to have a wonderful time, and I'm going to get lots of writing done!

The Golden Gate Bridge

Once we’d settled into our small but well-appointed staterooms, we made our way to the top deck to watch the Symphony sail from San Francisco Bay. We glided under the Golden Gate Bridge to Crystal’s signature departure song, a recording of Louie Armstrong warbling "What a Wonderful World." Our Alaskan adventure had begun.

♪ Oh, yeah! ♫