Le Voyage Fantastique

 Our Alaskan adventure begins 

My day actually begins early when a cramp forms in my calf faster than I can deal with it. That means jumping out of bed and walking/stretching to reduce the acuteness of the pain. Once I can return safely to my bed I begin to wonder what I forgot to pack the night before, why we only printed one boarding pass for each of us when we're going to have to catch two planes -- all the stuff I worry about before leaving on a trip. Oh, and for the flight out, our boarding pass is good for both legs of the journey.

Then I glance at the clock and note it will be another hour and a half before the alarm goes off, and I've only been asleep for about 4 hours. I'll need that hour and a half to get up to the average amount of sleep I've had the two previous night, so I try to clear my mind, and for once it works. The next sound I hear is the annoying alarm I picked on my tablet the night before. Just to be sure, I had also set another device with an alarm, which sounds off a few seconds later.

We're up and making last minute preparations, but we apparently did a good job of packing, as little remains to be dealt with. I'd gotten it in my head that we were supposed to fly out at 8 a.m., and I'm surprised when I check the airport web site and discover we don't leave til 9. But that's OK. The extra hour cushion will allow us to make a leisurely arrival, something we don't often do, and that means I won't be such a pain worrying about everything while I'm driving to the airport.

Because it's the Labor Day weekend, we don't want to take our chances on the airport's remote parking having space -- they were full on July Fourth -- or spend more money on one of the interior lots, I've made reservations at an off-site lot. I may do that every time. We're given a specific row to park on, and the bus drives up right next to us for convenient off-loading of our bags. The driver gives me a card that tells me exactly where I'm parked. He gives ma a card with the info on it and says to give it to whoever brings us back from the airport. That driver will drop us off right there. Much better than the remote parking, and it's cheaper.

We pick up several other passengers, and fortuitously, we are all headed to the same terminal, though Sharon and I will be on another airline from everyone else. Once at the terminal we walk forever to the Alaska Airlines check-in and speed through the process. We're amazed at the security procedures -- no need to remove shoes or belts, just walk through the metal detector, pick up our bags and head for the gates, possibly because of the TSA pre-check stamp on our boarding passes. Just like we encountered in Ireland two years ago. Never did understand why a country that had endured more strife than ours seemed to have easier security.

Microsoft bought us breakfast at one of ubiquitous airport Starbucks locations. (If you sign up on Bing and do a bunch of worthless searches each day, you earn points redeemable for stuff. They get to brag about how many searches are done with their browser; you get free stuff. Seems reasonable to me, even though I've yielded yet more information about myself to cyberspace.) When the shop starts to become crowded Sharon says we should go sit in the gate waiting area and leave room for the customers coming in. It almost breaks my heart to be considerate of others, but I agree anyway.

While waiting for our flight, we are treated to a spectacle that comes straight out of a movie. A  flight for Detroit is about to leave, and an older, overweight man appears down the hallway, huffing and panting and walking as fast as he can.

"Detroit?" he wheezes out in a raspy voice.

"What's your name, sir?" the gate attendant asks. He replies in that same rasping, wheezing voice that now also seems to be failing. I hope he didn't have a heart attack or something on the plane.

Finally it's our turn to board. When we'd checked the seating on the website, the seat next to us showed to be empty. As passengers boarded, it appeared the seat would remain empty, but the last person down theplane's aisle -- a young man about college age -- appeared and dropped into the seat next to me. I'm sure he's a nice fella, but my hopes for extra space were dashed. Oh, well. Nothing to do now but sit back, hope we arrive in Seattle in time for our next flight, and go on to meet our boat.

The flight to Seattle goes well, a highlight coming when Sharon spots a mountaintop poking up out of the clouds. Given our flight altitude and the size of the peak, I figure it's a pretty big mountain. We'll attempt to find out which one it was later.

Mt. Ranier from our plane window as we fly into Seattle

We arrive a little later than planned, but the gate we arrive at is a change from the schedule, and we wind up very close to our connection gate. That gives us just enough time to grab a sandwich at one of the nearby shops and get on our next plane. (Alaska Air doesn't include meals in the ticket fee, and their selection of food for purchase is limited on our flight.)

We're seated almost in the very back of the plane, and our seat mate in the back of the plane is a young man who just graduated law school in Oregon and is traveling to a job clerking for a judge in Barrow, AK. He a chatty thing who has spent some time living in Alaska and tells us what he knows (or says he knows) about places we're going to and points out features visible through the plane window.

Sharon shows him the picture of the mountaintop, and he says he thinks it could be Mt. Ranier. I'll check it when we have access to some sort of map.

Our fare also doesn't include any in-flight entertainment we're actually interested in -- some Discovery and NatGeo shows and some indie stuff for free, but everything else carries a fee. I'd ripped some of our DVDs and brought along a selection of movies to watch on my tablet, so we plug it all in and watch a movie, which helps pass the time.

Our arrival in Anchorage puts the last of my worries to rest. On our first cruise 19 years ago, with Royal Caribbean, we arrived at the airport, picked up our bags, and then had no idea how to find our transportation to the ship. In Anchorage, the Princess people are stationed right outside the baggage claim area and give explicit directions on how to proceed. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

The ship anchors in Whittier, and the shuttle ride is supposed to take an hour and 40 minutes. As soon as we jump on the coastal highway, the whole trip seemed totally worth it. We are treated to some kind of beautiful scenery. And, though it's cloudy when we arrive,  the clouds clear as we travel so that by the time we reach the ship, it's mostly sunny and the views are stunning.

While on the way, our driver points out a bald eagle sitting atop a dead tree. We'll see at least one other but fail to photograph either. Still, a bald eagle. Pretty cool for a small-town Texas boy like me who missed a sighting of one several years back in Cleburne.

The driver determines that we're a bit ahead of schedule so he turns into a pull-out with a view of Explorer Glacier and lets us take pics. Most everyone takes pics with their cameras or tablets(!), and the most common pic I see being taken is the selfie. No more need to grab a stranger to take a pic of you in front of whatever interesting background you encounter. Though why people use tablets to take pictures with, I don't quite understand. They never seem to use the smaller ones, and it seems ungainly to me to take a photo with an iPad or a nine or 10 inch Android tablet with the cover hanging down.

The driver tells us that Whittier used to be the location of a secret military base during World War II, and was only accessible by sea or air. The powers that be decided a land route was needed, so they commissioned a tunnel through a mountain to Whittier.

Whittier at twilight as we're pulling away from the dock.

But they only built a one-lane-wide tunnel that provides both road and rail access to the town. That's right, I said one-lane and road-and-rail in the same sentence. Inbound traffic goes through the tunnel on the half hour, and outbound traffic goes through on the hour, assuming a train doesn't need to go through.

Then traffic, which shares its roadbed with the train tracks, stops both ways while the train goes through. And according to our driver, the atmosphere inside the tunnel is cleared before traffic goes through. Plus, traffic is spaced out so the truck in front of us is about half way through before we start in. Our driver's a bit of a wag and plays the theme music to Raiders of the Lost Ark while we travel through the tunnel.

As soon as we emerge from the tunnel, we see the ship. Another great view. If I write "ditto" in the future notes, take note that it will mean "another great view."

Our check-in is the easiest we've ever gone through. Maybe it's because we're sailing in September; maybe it's the hour we're checking in, but I'm happy. I like low stress, especially on vacation. We haven't eaten in a while so we head for the buffet. After that we explore the ship and enjoy one "ditto" after another whenever we step outside.

Eventually, after taking the first of way too many pictures, we return to our room to crash for the evening. By the time I've sifted through all the material provided passengers and decided to call it a day, it's been almost 21 hours. Sharon checked out a bit earlier, but it's safe to say neither of us has been up that long in years.