HALF-BAKED ALASKA, PART II

 ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (09-07-23)

     Our first five days in Alaska were filled with awe-inspiring views of America at its best (in other words with no humans in it). "Oh wow," people said to me before our trip, "you're going to see so much wildlife! Maybe a whale, a moose and a grizzly bear on a good day!" Whether it's a good day for me or them I guess depends on how fast I can run. But by the end of five days as our train pulled into Anchorage, the largest beast I had seen was a squirrel attacking a bird feeder, and I was in awe of this illustration of the brutality of nature.

     I was animal-starved, and even a chocolate mousse on a menu would have seemed exotic. I pictured myself following a big game hunter in order to see some wildlife. "What are we tracking?" I ask him as I tag along. "Keep your voice down," he says. "We're looking for moose droppings." "Wow," It was hard to conceal my disappointment. "I figured we'd go after something larger, like maybe the moose." Perhaps these animals are nocturnal, and since there's 21 hours of daylight, they're over-rested and ready to expend some energy on the first idiot who happens to blunder along.

     But all that would change as we boarded the Discovery, a 65-foot, six-cabin vessel fitted with kayaks and a motor skiff, designed to visit the natural splendors of the Prince William Sound, just south of the city. From our water-borne vantage point we immediately snapped an iconic photo of a black bear capturing a fish in its mouth. It's less iconic for the fish, but that's the nature of nature. We saw a tribe of mountain goats, the largest mammals to exist at those altitudes. They were on the move, as where they already were looked to be extremely boring.

     We pulled up to a haulout of sea lions, noisy and social, and passed a raft of otters floating on their backs. On our hike we met up with an injured bald eagle that our skipper had been keeping track of. We saw crested puffins, harbor seals and of course, the black-legged kittiwake. 

     We boarded our small craft and positioned ourselves fairly close to Surprise Glacier, and while it would be impressive to see calving activity, an entire cow would likely send our kayak out of the Sound at the speed of sound. We floated around in our kayak for the better part of an afternoon. The worse part of the afternoon was spent rowing it. There was a lot of ice in the vicinity so I was careful not to have a "Titanic moment." As the de facto captain I did not want to have to go down with the ship, when it was much easier to wait until I was back on land and figure out a way to go down without it.

     We returned to town after our wonderful cruise to relax for a couple days before our return flight. Anchorage is home to half the people of the state, which is two-and-a-half times the size of Texas but with a population roughly the size of Seattle. The city is home to several eateries and drinkeries, such as the Bear Tooth Inn, the Bear Paw and the Moose Tooth Tavern. If you assembled every bar in town you'd have one complete animal that could at any time get you drunk and then eat you.

     Our last day we we boarded a bus tour to the Wildlife Conservation Center about 45 minutes south of the city. As we neared the preserve I had to hold onto my kidneys as I realized that the rutting season is the same for roads as it is for elk. But they were all there: the brown bear, of which the grizzly is a smaller subspecies; the moose, which often feeds in the ocean and finds the orca one of its primary predators; the arctic fox, bred for its soft fur. They seemed glad to finally see me. The only animal in the park that did not show itself was the lynx. I bet if I spread out a newspaper and sat down with my coffee he'd come right out and sit on it, and I would have found the missing lynx.

     Finally our beautiful glimpse into the wild corners of America was over, and we boarded the plane back to New York. I wave at the stewardess and say "Huh-hi," since they always say "Buh-bye" on your way out. We make it back to New York in record time, and I say on the way out, "Thank you for flying Delta," which temporarily throws her off her game. It's good to be back in my natural habitat: captivity. But the animals in Alaska are gloriously free, at least until my credit card bill comes.