An Afternoon In Alaska

On Monday, October 16^th, I headed out on my last trip of the semester to visit incoming students. I rose at the Witching Hour (that’s 3 AM for you Muggles…not a good omen to start this journey) to get ready to drive to Des Moines for my 5:30 flight to Salt Lake City, Utah.  From Salt Lake City, I drove up to Blackfoot, Idaho through some beautiful mountainous terrain and visited a student who works in a funeral home that was converted from a Mormon church. I drove back down to Salt Lake City, spent the night, and left for Fresno, CA at 7:30 AM the next day.

An interesting thing about Fresno: there’s nothing there. Literally nothing. It’s just some buildings and roads. There were no planes at the airport, no skyscrapers heralding one’s arrival into a thriving metropolis; just small buildings and people driving rather aggressively as if they wanted to get anywhere else as quickly as possible. It’s not my intent to bash on Fresno…wait, yes it is. Don’t ever go there. There’s nothing there and if you do go, you’ll feel like you’ve slipped into to an irreversible space-time continuum.

After an uneventful night at the Hampton Inn in Clovis (I could literally say “Clovis” non-stop for 15 minutes…it’s such a fun word) near the virtually invisible Fresno airport, I left for Juneau, Alaska at 5:45 AM on Wednesday, Oct. 18th. Bear in mind that the farther west one travels, the earlier it gets. So, 5:45 AM in Fresno/Cosmic Void is, by my Circadian Rhythm, 3:45 AM. I didn’t know it at the time, but my body was getting ready to let me know that it didn’t like this early morning/changing time zones horse shit.

I enjoyed a brief layover at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport (SEA-TAC for you avgeeks out there…that’s fun to say, too!) where I promptly got in trouble with airport security. Like a true avgeek (that’s aviation geeks…i.e. plane nerds for you non-nerds), I found a great location on the ramp going into the Alaska Air terminal. The problem was, it was outside the “safe zone” where they didn’t want weirdos like me hanging out. So, this stern young airport lady confronts me and the following exchange ensues:

Stern young lady: “You’ll have to leave this area as we don’t let passengers stay out here.”

Me: “OK…I’m an airplane nerd and there’s a big beautiful Asiana Cargo 747 ready to take off. You can see it turning down at the end of the runway. See it?’

Stern young lady: “OK. I’ll be back in three minutes and if you’re still here, you’re in trouble.”

Me: (Gazing warmly at her with my silvery azure eyes and irresistible boyish charm) “You are the BEST!”

Three minutes later, the Stern Young Lady arrives with a look on her face that reminded me of my Grandmother the first time she heard me say “shit.”

Stern Young Lady: “OK…you HAVE to leave NOW.”

Me: “But the 747 is headed this way!”

Stern Young Lady: Actually looks and sees the giant-ass plane barreling towards us.

Stern Young Lady: “Take the video and get into the terminal!”

Me: In a full state of aviation arousal, shoots the video you see below:

Needless to say, I hightailed it into the terminal before she felt the need to call in Seattle’s finest.

Flying into Juneau was pretty cool. It’s the capital of Alaska but its population is only around 30,000 so it has a delightful small-town feel to it.

I arrived to meet my student at the Alaskan Memorial Park & Mortuary and was regaled with several stories of funeral service in Alaska. This funeral home serves several indigenous tribes of native Alaskans, many of which simply use the funeral home for embalming and take over after that, not needing any further services of the funeral home. Transportation of the deceased presents several challenges as there are literally no roads into or out of Juneau. The road literally ends at the foot of the mountains. So, other modes of travel, namely boats and planes, are needed to get the deceased to their final place of rest. It’s certainly not Iowa with the fancy black cars and silk-suited morticians in shiny shoes.

They do things a little differently up here!

After my visit at the funeral home, I had 4-5 hours of daylight remaining to see some of Juneau. I could see a massive glacier behind the funeral home and knew I had to see it up close. It didn’t disappoint. The Mendenhall Glacier is nearly 14 miles long and is the crown jewel of the Tongass National Forest. Those of you who know me well, won’t be surprised that I cracked up like the 16-year-old I really am when I saw THAT sign. Those of you who DON’T know me well…you probably don’t get the joke anyway.

Tongass...snicker, snicker.

Even with the overcast, drizzly weather, I was dumbstruck by the brilliant blue hues emanating from the ice of the glacier. There were many signs of its movement all over the park. Scars etched into smooth, flat rocks where the glacier had moved over it like a gargantuan ice scraper on a windshield. The mountains were like fortress walls all around the park and there was a lonely waterfall peeking out of one side of the mountain. I’ve never seen such beauty.

My view of the Mendenhall Glacier.

NOTE: If you mouse over the video, you'll see the "Full Screen" icon at the bottom right. Click it for a better viewing experience.

From the glacier, I headed out to the Shrine of St. Therese, about a 20-minute drive on Glacier Highway along the beautiful coastline of Auke Bay. The shrine was built as a retreat center in the 1930s and looks out over Lynn Canal, with the Chilkat Mountains serving as the perfect backdrop.

Walking up the path to the Shrine of St. Therese

Inside the Shrine

Driving towards downtown Juneau.

Downtown Juneau

By this time, I didn’t have much daylight left and still wanted to explore downtown Juneau. At the top of my list was St. Nicholas Russian Orthodox Church. I may be a Russian at heart because I have a love of Russian/Soviet history and the bleak landscapes of central and eastern Russia. As I walked around the corner of Main and 5th Street, I saw the trademark onion dome (cupola) of the Russian churches. St. Nicholas is a small church, mind you, but it’s still distinctly Russian and for a moment, I felt like a true Muscovite walking on the brick streets of Red Square towards St. Basil’s Cathedral.

St. Nicholas Russian Orthodox Church

As I walked up to the church, I saw a man bent over awkwardly, talking to himself in a mildly aggravated manner as he was attempting to fix a small white gate in front of the church. I was in luck. Here was the archetypal church caretaker literally mending fences for the Lord. I introduced myself as a traveler from Iowa who had a love of Russian Orthodox churches, apologized for interrupting his work and dared to trouble him for a tour. As if on script, he grumbled with a Yoda-like exasperation, “I’m just trying to be the best servant I can be. The church is locked but I’ll be glad to take you inside.”

Standing with Patrick in front of various artistic renderings of the Church.

Inside St. Nicholas Russian Orthodox Church

Patrick the Caretaker proceeded to take me into this simple but sublime Russian church built in 1893 and shared its history with me as if I was the most important person in the world. If you read the reviews on Trip Advisor, you’ll see many mentions of Patrick and how much he knows about the church history. In an unexpected finale to our tour, Patrick offered to ring the church bell, which I caught on video. What an experience…standing in front of this quaint, old-world Russian church, not too far from Mother Russia herself, listening to the church bell toll.

The day’s adventures ended with a medium-rare steak at the hotel restaurant overlooking the Gastineau Channel that separates the city from Douglas Island. I headed to bed, dreading yet anticipating the 5:20 AM flight that would take me home.

Downtown Juneau with the Gastineau Channel in the background.

Remember earlier in my story when I mentioned that my body was going to speak to me? Well, at 2:30 AM on Thursday, October, my body spoke LOUDLY. It may have been the afternoon of outdoor exploration in the 40-degree drizzle; it may have been the lack of sleep and early departures; it may have been the six different airplanes/flying germ canisters I’d been stuck in over the past three days; hell, it may have been the nearly raw steak I ate! Regardless of the cause, I endured wave after wave of stomach-clenching diarrhea. Normally, one just rides it out but my main concern was the impending 10+ hours of airplane travel ahead of me. If you’ve ever been in an airplane restroom, you know that it is NOT conducive to a rather large man with diarrhea. There’s barely room to stand there and piss let alone bend over, blast the bowl, and get an effective wipe.

Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. After one last embarrassing episode at the Juneau Airport at 5 AM, it subsided. However, I decided that it wouldn’t be wise to eat anything so I spent an interminable 10 hours of flying without sustenance, which was enhanced by the obligatory screaming child and scrawny guy next to me who felt my ribs were the best place for his bony elbows. For a brief time, I actually prayed for the diarrhea to return so I could make the flight as miserable for them as they were making it for me.

Mercifully, I landed in Des Moines at 5:30 PM Central time and, consequences be damned, stopped at the first McDonald’s and devoured a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese, large fries, Diet Coke, and chocolate chip cookies. 

It all stayed down.

Peace…

Travis