Getting some northern exposure

Tom Moulson

My wife Tita and I stepped out of a helicopter onto the surface of a

moon: cold, silent, blue and white. We were atop a glacier one mile

deep. This was the highlight of our trip to Alaska.

It began with a night in Fairbanks, in the middle of Alaska, after

flying in from John Wayne. The next day, we boarded the Midnight Sun

Express south to Denali through a spectacular landscape of winding

rivers, craggy mountains and treeless tundra, homes to moose, caribou

and bear, though we saw few of these. In Denali, we toured the

national forest and saw distant spots, which our ranger assured us

were caribou.

The next morning, we took the train to Anchorage, passing the

world’s only two-person city -- a cabin and yard sporting the U.S.

flag and belonging to a Mr. Lovell -- which he had incorporated. Each

year, his wife elects him mayor and then impeaches him. As in

Scandinavia, months of darkness seem to breed a dry sense of humor.

Our park ranger shouted “Bobcat!” while pointing to a yellow tractor.

The morning we left Anchorage for the port of Whittier, the

thunder of afterburners from jets taking off into the gloom at

Menendorf Air Force Base was a reminder of Alaska’s key strategic

location. It had one of only three missile silo sites targeting the

former Soviet Union, together with Greenland and England. Ironic,

since the U.S. purchased Alaska from Russia in 1867. At Whittier, we

boarded the Dawn Princess cruise ship and sailed south for seven

nights through the Inside Passage, between wooded islands and

peninsulas, with stops at the ports of Skagway, Juneau, Ketchikan and

Vancouver, whence we flew home.

The sight from our stateroom on the morning of our arrival in

Skagway was extraordinary. Facing us was a sheer rock wall covered

with elegant graffiti, applied -- one wonders how -- by ships’ crews

since 1930. At Juneau, the state’s capital, we took our helicopter

trip over the ice fields. Alaska boasts more aircraft per person than

any other state, flying usually being the only way to get around.

Single-engine tail-draggers are tethered alongside cabins, and

floatplanes buzz the lakes and ports. Bush pilots fly anybody

anywhere in air taxis. Flying makes things expensive. “USA Today”

costs $1.75. A banana costs $1.25 (and was still too green to open

four days later).

Our final port was Ketchikan, small and pretty, with a boardwalk

main street and shops well prepared for deep-pocket tourists.

Go to Alaska -- the nation’s largest, most northerly, most

westerly state (and, since it straddles the international date line,

the most easterly also). But go in the summer, when days are 20 hours

long and the climate equable. Alaskans say they enjoy four seasons:

winter, June, July and August. If you want to see whales or bears or

moose, you may be lucky.

The cruise alone, though, is a sure thing. Glide through the

Inside Passage on a palace that makes the Ritz Carlton look like the

Cab Shack, viewing the haunting beauty of wooded hills and islands,

salmon fishing boats and tiny ports buzzing with floatplanes.

The great English explorers Cook, Vancouver and Puget, who charted

these waters in a failed 1770s search for a northwest passage to the

Orient, were disappointed. You will not be.

* TOM MOULSON is a resident of Corona del Mar.