Alaska - Day 3 - Expectations

7/5/14

Abroard MalaspinaI, Inside Passage (Alaska Marine Highway), En route Juneau-Haines

When Sokol and I first landed in Alaska, we were instantly amazed by the beauty, the trees, the mountains, the peaceful serenity of it, but I was not floored.  At first, I just assumed it was too similar to Washington for me to be amazed by it, and, yes, we are still in the Pacific Northwest, not in the heart of Alaska, but it was more than that.  I am working on developing a theory of aesthetics that involves what I’ve called implied emotional attraction, and I think I can apply similar principles here.  When I left New York, I didn’t just think that Alaska would be one of the most beautiful places I would ever visit.  I knew it.  I think the only question was whether it would be the most beautiful place I ever visited, so, when I landed in Juneau, which will make any top five list I want to write, and I saw beautiful trees and mountains, I thought nothing of it.  It’s as if someone tells you a movie will be the best movie you’ll ever see.  There is no wow factor left.  It’s either a disappointment, or it was what they told you to expect.  If someone sets you up on a date and, before the first date, says this is the perfect woman for you, the woman you are going to marry, you probably will not wind up marrying her, assuming you believed and trusted him.  What exactly are expectations?  It is an Efficient Cause of relativity.  The same movie, the same woman, you will enjoy more based on your expectations.  I have plenty of empirical evidence for this theory, so it is actually kind of surprising that it took me being in Alaska for 48 hours before I realized that that was what was happening.

I was not disappointed by Alaska, but I was not wowed.  It was exactly what I expected, one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited.  I am reluctant to segregate this small section of the PNW from the rest of The North, but, once I have more thoroughly the rest of the state, I will be glad to consider superlatives.  For now, it is just one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited.  No Caribbean island, nowhere in Central America, nowhere south of the Mason-Dixon Line could even come close to competing in terms of natural beauty to Alaska, but the same could be said about Olympic.  Alaska has not exceeded my expectations, as of yet, but it sure as hell has met them.

After a slow start this morning, getting out the door at 4:55 AM, which meant we would not get to the ferry at 5 AM as requested, we made our towards the terminal, relying only on directions and signs, not using the GPS.  We found it easily enough, and there was a sign that amused.  It had two arrows, one showing the miles to Juneau, the other said “END OF ROAD 24.”  It was kind of hard to figure out exactly the procedure for getting on the ferry with our car, but we managed, and I had an Aroma de Cuba as we were waiting.  I didn’t finish it before we got on board, so I brought it to the portside deck to finish after we left the car.  It was then time for breakfast and some much needed coffee.  I had a bowl of fruit while we were waiting in the long line, and I ordered runny eggs with crisp bacon, knowing that Sokol would give me his patty of sausage.  After our meal, we went outside for cigars, Sokol unable to sit still, as always and walking around.  I opted for an Arturo Fuente, while he had an Alec Bradley.  It was too windy on the unprotected portside, so we went to the aft deck.  It was such a beautiful view of the forests and snow-covered mountains.  After our cigars, we went up to what they called the “solarium,” where they had the same lounge chairs that you would find poolside.

Sokol immediately took a nap, and I did the same after reading some NFPA 25.  I lamented losing the view, but I could see it in my head as I slept, knowing the view would not change.  When I woke up, starving, an hour later, I was right.  It was the same beautiful view of mountains and trees.  I went down to get some bacon and considered smoking a cigar, but that would have meant having to go back out into the wind.  I decided instead to come back to the solarium, and I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close, since we are almost at Haines.

Whitehorse, Yukon

As I mentioned earlier today, expectations are everything.  This charming capital of The Yukon was excactly what I had expected it to be, no more, no less, and I was very pleased.  Everyone has heard of The Yukon, but most people have no idea where the Northwest Territories are (east of Yukon) or what a Nunavut is (the fifth largest subnational division in the world).  I learned them all.  I learned every Canadian province and territory, their capitals, and where to put them on the map.  I know Canadian geography better than American geography.  As much as I loved Yellowknife and Iqaluit, was it asking for too much to love Whitehorse just as much?  I was not disappointed.  As I told Danielle, it is a charming cowboy town.  There are saloons, and there is not a single building that NFPA 13 would require to have a standpipe system (i.e., a building over 75 feet high) in downtown.  It reminds me so much of the towns I visited with my father on our road trip through the plains.  All that was missing was the general store and, well, a white horse.  What this apart from the other cowboy towns was the allure of The North.  With forests and snow-covered peaks in the backdrop, and a WHS plaque not 2 hours away, it is an amazing place, and I am so glad to be here.

After I closed on the boat, it was a bit of a hassle and some confusion getting off, but we were still ahead of schedule.  I had allocated 30 minutes to get off.  It only took 25 minutes.  Feeling brave, and knowing that there was only one road, I didn't bother with the GPS.  In fact, I have not yet used the GPS.  We stopped in town to get some supplies, meaning butane and water.  Not knowing what the local laws and wanting to risk it, I tried smoking the Nic Toro I had lit up for my first official driving cigar in the sporting goods store.  The young kid didn't say anything, but the manager told me no smoking.  I paid for the butane, and we went to the grocery store.  I wanted to get back to my cigar, and I knew that we couldn't bring any meat over the border, so I decided to leave, forgetting the water.

It was a beautiful and scenic drive, but I was worried about getting searched at the border, not that we had anything on us.  We were completely clean, but I had been constantly replanning our next couple of days, and any delay would jeopardize getting to the souvenir shop before it closed.  Two circumstances made that irrelevant, but I didn't think we had an hour to spare to get searched.  We did get searched, but it was a perfunctory search, and I had declared all of my tobacco, which was under the limit.  He asked a few of the usual questions and was curious why we were going to Whitehorse instead of just staying in Haines Junction.  I said that I wanted to see the capital, but I don't think he understood what that meant.  It didn't matter.  We were clean, and he let us go.  As soon as we entered Canada, the WHS was going to be on our left all the way up to Haines Junction, over 100 miles later.

I had decided to partition our trip to segregate the days each into their own unit of the WHS.  Today was for Tatshensini-Alsek Park, the British Columbia portion of the park.  I broke 100 when I found a straightaway, and we were soon at the hiking trail, such as it was.  I lit up my Por Larranga Asia Pacifico Exclusivo, and we took a nice walk to either the Tatshensini river or the Alsek river.  When we got there, we took our official Us into the river and then took some pictures.  I wanted to smoke the whole cigar inside the Park, and I was not even close to done by the time we got to the river, so we explored the park a bit more.  It was perfect except for one thing: Sokol complaining about his ex.

Since it was my duty as his best friend to listen to him bitch and moan, I let him do so until we got to the border with Yukon.  I did not want his negativity to by my first memory of The Yukon.  He stopped, and we took our pictures at the sign.  I hit 100 again as soon as I find a nice and empty stretch, and we made great time by pretending that the speed limit was in mph, not km/h.  I knew that the plaque was coming up on the left, but wanting to give Kluane its own day, I did something I had never done before.  I saw and skipped a US/CAN WHS plaque.  I knew we would come back for it tomorrow morning, and I also knew that, if I was able to get my souvenirs in Whitehorse tonight, I could redo tomorrow to get an extra stamp at Wrangell.

When we got to Haines Junction, we finally got on the ALCAN, which would take us to Whitehorse, allowing us to arrive at 6:30 PM, smoking an Avo on the way, over an hour ahead of schedule, and I was told the souvenir shop would close at 7 PM.  Not having the GPS on, I asked Sokol how to get to our hotel.  Bullshitting me, he said we had to make a left on Main Street.  It turned out that was exactly how to get to our hotel.  I knew the legislature was on Second Avenue, and that was the main street in town, so I just took out, and, sure enough, there was our hotel, on Main Street, off to the left.  I refilled my water bottle at the town VC, where we took our first official Us in The Yukon, and we went straight to the legislature.  We could not go inside, but it was enough to take my picture outside the building and announce that I had now visited all 3 territorial legislative assemblies in the past year.  Am I the only American who is not in politics/lobbying to have done that?  Maybe.

Wanting to recreate the experience from Juneau, I lit up a Camacho, and we walked around town, but it was raining, and I knew it would not be the same.  We headed to the Midnight Sun Emporium, which I knew to have Cubans and souvenirs.  It was closed.  Oh no!  All of my replanning was for naught.  We would have to wait around tomorrow anyway.  Then I saw across the street a souvenir shop open, and they had everything I needed: shirts, keychains, magnets, and the most important thing of all, flag pins.  I loaded up, knowing I would want the bulk of my gifts to come from the two capitals.  It was the only souvenir shop still open, but I got everything I needed.  Sokol then asked about the Cubans, and I told him that the flag pin was worth more to me than a box of Cubans, even if the price of the flag pin was less than 1% of the cost of a box of Cubans.  There was a big line outside of a restaurant called Klondike Ribs & Salmon, which the shopkeep had recommended as the best place for dinner.

It was going to be a long wait, so we moved the car and walked around a bit while I finished my cigar.  The meal was delicious, even though we had neither ribs nor salmon.  We got a veritable assortment of game dishes, along with Yukon potatoes and local beers.  It was so good.  Sokol wanted dessert, and the last thing I wanted was to be tempted with the sugar and have to wait around while he finished, so I went to the hotel.  It was a non-smoking room, but I decided to risk a pipe and opted for my Ardor.  I had trouble opening up my Travelogue, so I instead uploaded my photos, did the official replanning, and got ready for the morning.  I tried a bunch of tricks, but I still could not open Word.  I was able to fix Excel, so I formalized the route, but I had disabled Outlook, so I couldn't email it to myself.  Actually, I guess I can use OWA.  Getting very tired and not wanting to wait for the install to finish, I proceeded to write this entry in Notepad, so I will have to transfer it over when the install is done, and I will now close.