We decided that instead of a father and son backpacking trip, a family trip would be better before returning to college in 2019. My mother suffers from MS, so hiking was not an option. We decided that a cruise from Alaska through the Inside Passage was the way to go. This allowed us to travel in comfort while providing the opportunity to visit natural wonders only accessible by boat
So, in the middle of August, we gathered our passports, suitcases, and (in my case) books, and strode forth: to the airport. We flew to Minneapolis and then Anchorage.
My Nemesis Returns
As we were descending out of eighteen thousand feet and the peaks of the Chugach Mountains became visible, I realized that either 1) they had started installing fireplaces in first class and had lit ours for ambiance, or 2) for the second year in a row, wildfires would cloud our trip. The air in the plane smelled like a campfire. Since the former seemed unlikely, I resigned myself to the latter.
Wildfires raged north between Anchorage and Denali, and south on the Kenai Peninsula — the worst Alaska had seen in years. That left Anchorage smothered in smog: there were advisories recommending that everyone refrain from outdoor exercises and wear a mask.
Anchorage is not a destination city. It really isn’t much to see (even without the miasma). If you look up the Anchorage online you will see images of breathtaking mountain vistas and winding rivers pregnant with fish: unfortunately, none of these are actually IN Anchorage. You can certainly get to these picturesque destinations from the city, but Anchorage itself has the dreary feel of a small rustbelt city that is limping along.
I spent a day exploring the museum and Native Heritage Center (both of which are well worth visiting) while Dad made an unplanned trip to an urgent care. The air quality kept Mom indoors at the hotel. We had dinner at an excellent little restaurant called the Bridge, which is, well, a bridge. It spans Ship Creek in the valley below downtown and serves exceptional seafood.
Drive to Whittier
The next day we rented a van for a leisurely trip to Whittier on the Passage Canal (east side of the Kenai Peninsula). After a brief driving tour of Anchorage of southern Anchorage, including the area most damaged by the 2018 earthquake (vacant land today), we headed south, driving along Turnagain Arm. This stretch of highway is considered one of the most scenic in Alaska.
Turnagain Arm is a branch of Cook Inlet which cuts east through rugged terrain, mountains rising precipitously along its shores. The highway clings to the north shore as it winds its way east. William Bligh (yes, THAT William Bligh) named the Arm in 1778 while serving as sailing master on Cook’s third expedition to find a Northwest Passage. They had already sailed up the other Arm, Knik, and had to turn back, so it no doubt seemed an appropriate, if wry, name for the second inlet which rebuffed their efforts.
Unfortunately, our view was once again tainted by smoke, though gorgeous, nevertheless. Turnagain Arm has the most dramatic tides in America (about forty feet), second only to the Bay of Fundy in North America. We drove along its shores during high tide, so our driver told us that, if we were lucky, we might catch sight of a beluga whale. We were more than lucky; we saw more than two dozen. In one spot we stopped to watch a pod of at least six.
We stopped for lunch at a small gastropub in Girdwood. We had intended to take a tram up Mount Alyeska at the nearby ski resort and dine at the top, but with the ubiquitous smoke decided it wasn’t worth the time. We continued to the head of the Arm (it’s not every day that I can use that phrase), past the site where the town of Portage once stood before it was destroyed in the 1969 earthquake (the second strongest ever recorded). There we turned off to visit the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center.
…and who decided upon that number? Is seven much safer than eight?
A Difficult Place to Visit with Little Reason to do So
We were only able to spend about two hours at the AWCC since the time of our reservation loomed: our tunnel reservation.
Whittier, located on the passage canal (which is a bay/fjord of Prince William Sound) was used by the Chugach for centuries for portage to Turnagain Arm, but wasn’t developed until the Army decided that they needed an ice-free deep-water port. In 1941 The military constructed a secret facility there named H-12. An engineer named Anton Anderson was tasked with blowing a railway tunnel beneath Maynard Mountain, the peak between the fjord and Portage Lake, to connect the port with the rail network. The 2.5-mile tunnel was completed in two years.
Camp Sullivan, as the base was later known, was an army facility until 1960 (three years after Alaska became a state). Whittier, named after the Whittier Glacier above the town to the south, wasn’t incorporated until 1969.
Whittier was only accessible by ship, train, or plane until 2000 when the railroad tunnel was converted to dual-use and connected to the Seward Highway.
The Anton Anderson Memorial Tunnel is only wide enough for a single rail line: tall, narrow, and rough-hewn. With only one lane, train and auto traffic must be tightly scheduled — hence the reservation. Jet-powered turbines ventilate the tunnel between trips.
Our reservation was for 5:30. We waited for a half-hour before entering, and it took about 10 minutes to reach the other side. The drive was dim and rough (since you drive on top of the recessed railroad tracks, it’s like a 2.5-mile railroad crossing). There are small shelter houses built along the way in case of an accident, or fire, or earthquake, or tsunami, or avalanche, or rogue marmots or…
Whittier is little more than a port next to two multistory buildings, both built by the army in 1957. One is abandoned, and the other houses the entire population of the town, literally. Whittier is nicknamed the “Town under one roof” since everyone lives in one renovated 14-story building.
Our ship was waiting, and we arrived before the bulk of the passengers, who were traveling by rail, so we boarded quickly and found our way to our suite. We had time to settle in and enjoy the view from our terrace since the train carrying the aforementioned bulk was delayed by the forest fires and was about an hour late. It was near sunset when we set sail for Prince William Sound and the Gulf of Alaska beyond.
