Goodness Glaciers

While you were basking in Minnesota’s recent, unprecedented balmy weather, decked out in shorts and sandals, I was zipped up to my chin in wintry fleece while braving the Arctic seas, viewing behemoth glaciers muscling their way through bleak, black mountains under snow-capped pinnacles.

I was one of the 900 passengers, tended by a honey of a crew of 500, aboard Viking’s ocean cruise ship Venus on a month-long sail from Tokyo to Vancouver, guided by the ship’s expert lecturers on the region’s geology, history and wildlife. (Though other passengers gazed avidly at black bears, orcas and humpback whales and such, the closest I got to spotting exotic critters — near-sighted eyes — were dinner tables of Canadians.)

I began each day with a fast march round and round the outer deck (four laps to a mile), sipping a cappuccino foamed for me with a “Good morning, Madam Carla” from the barista who knew my name and cabin number, and probably my blood type, by day three. I followed up with a Salmon Benedict for many a breakfast, alternating with lamb chops aside scrambled eggs. (Lamb chops for breakfast? You bet. That’s the way Viking coddles its guests.)

Wine and beer are gratis at mealtimes, and the menus change daily, with nary a repeat: lots of lobster, crab and shrimp as well as everything from pot roast to prime steaks. And that’s just at the main restaurant. Specialty dining rooms reign, too — from Scandinavian to Italian fare.

At each port stop, a free excursion is included. (Enthusiasts may purchase additional ones, such as animal watching.) In Tokyo, our bus patrolled the famed glitzy Ginza area, then proceeded to the grounds of the royal palace for a photo op.

Traveling next to Sapporo, Japan, site of the 1972 Winter Olympics and today a museum in its honor, we could view a ski jump that seemed more like a death wish than a sports venue, and then simulate our own course down its slope, bending knees and grasping bars as a machine charts our “speed” and “jumping skills.” We then proceeded to the park-like setting of an ornate Shinto temple, where we joined local aspirants in placing paper wishes and ribbons to catch the gods’ attention.

Then, a string of restful, wonder-inducing days at sea as we sailed north along the Russian coast, then veered east toward North America, cruising along the string of Aleutian Islands on our way and crossing the International Date Line, which afforded us an extra day — Saturday followed by another Saturday — and a certificate to verify our new bragging rights.

I quickly learned to love these at “at sea” days, letting the hours, and waves, flow past as I idled on a chaise longue aside a window wall, enjoyed a proper daily English tea time (complete with scones) and poked at the library shelves that dotted cozy alcoves here and there. Others played cards, fitted out jigsaw puzzles, scheduled massages, walked the deck or dozed, until time for dinner — no assigned tables or time slot, unlike the giant “floating city” ships we sidled up next to in various harbors. We chatted, by choice, with a different twosome every meal (guests from San Diego to San Antonio to Sanibel and beyond). Dinner was followed by a full-out musical revue in the theater nightly, but I confess to preferring to snooze in our stateroom.

Alaska! At last, we caught sight of land and our first stop, Kodiak. Russians had landed here long before us, and today an iconic Russian Orthodox church welcomes visitors to admire its glittering icons. We also had plenty of time to visit the town’s history museum — the oldest wooden building still existing in Alaska, where the native population fought off the invading Russians in 1784 (and lost) — a story unfolded by artifacts inside the structure. In the Kodiak National Wildlife Refuge Center, we encountered a taxidermist’s Kodiak brown bear (the largest in the world) and, even bigger, the skeleton of a mammoth whale.

Homer, up next, was founded in 1904 by (guess who?) a smooth operator named Homer, “The most talented con man on the continent” — a gold rush newcomer who won out not by discovering gold, but rather “black gold,” aka oil. Today, Homer’s Pratt Museum relates how weather influences life in this town, such as the 1912 earthquake-cum-tsunami. An exhibit exhorts, “Tell us your storm stories,” and relates “What It Takes to Catch Fish.” Amble further down the road to poke into local art galleries (and more stories). Alas, Alice’s Champagne Palace has seen better days and remains padlocked.

Today we dock at Seward, pop. 3,000, anchoring in Resurrection Bay to view the Alaska Sea Life Center, where critters, from tanks of starfish to sea otters and giant seals, slither and dive as visiting schoolkids squeal.

It’s followed by Valdez, the town infamous for that massive Exxon oil spill and also the Good Friday earthquake of 1966, and the rebuilding each event has hosted. Its History Museum showcases Native artifacts, including a paper-thin parka fashioned from bear gut and brightly painted hunting visors. Walk a mile or so further to the Whitney Museum with its excellent portrayal of Inuit life, complete with whimsical-to-scary masks, moose antler furniture and totem poles.

On the sea day that follows, we arrive at Glacier Bay — the very reason many customers signed on for this trip. We sidle along one massive icy façade after another, rising as high as a five-story building, I’d guess, marveling at their stately power. These glaciers are framed by muscular silhouettes of mountains under their snowy toupees. The captain pauses the ship to allow for scads of photographs before we sidle slowly onward.

It’s raining when we land in Sitka, but then, that’s to be expected: the dripping town of 4,000 receives eight feet of rain a year. We ambled toward its petite domed Russian Orthodox Cathedral, cosseting its precious icons, then to a Native totem pole overlooking Recession Bay. As we set sail once again, dolphins performed acrobatic leaps under the arc of a brilliant rainbow.

At Skagway, our next stop, a pair of mega-ocean liners dominated the skyline as we hiked the town’s Main Street, which could star as a movie setting depicting the wild, wild West, in search of souvenirs. Jumping aboard a tour bus, we sped along the scenic highway into Canada, passports in hand for the Mounties’ inspection. Against the backdrop of a spiky mountain range carpeted in Sitka spruce and Western hemlock, we passed signs warning of an Avalanche Alert.

Tracing the coast of the Inside Passage, at landed, at last, at Vancouver, ready (but not eager) to bid farewell to our ship and our many new friends, grab our bags and depart for home.

When you, too, are in the mood to marvel at majestic Arctic scenery and follow the path where gold miners once trod, check out Viking Ocean Cruises’ North Pacific Crossing journey at vikingcruises.com and start packing. FYI: Viking Venus hosts an LGBT cocktail gathering (a dozen people showed up on my cruise) as an icebreaker on this icy ocean voyage.