By Sally F. Moe

I came home in July bursting with souvenirs from my cruise of Alaska’s magnificent Inside Passage. Decals and magnets, tee shirts and totemic art and jewelry...but the one souvenir that means the most to me is a tiny friendship pin adorned with microscopic glass beads and feathery soft eagle down. It came with a handwritten note that read N’ Dim El Git Nii Zen (“until we meet again” in Tsimshian). At my request, our tour bus driver in Metlakatla, the giver of the pins, spoke the words. I couldn’t begin to reproduce the sounds.

That’s the thing about Alaska. It’s America—my country—I can come and go as I please and I don’t even need a passport...yet it’s worlds away in its primeval beauty, history, and day-to-day rhythms. I mean, you know you’re not in Kansas anymore when the July sun is still tinting the horizon at 11 p.m.

Over the Water and Through the Fjords...
Cruise West is devoted to revealing and exploring Alaska’s road-less-taken attractions. Its stylish, nimble ship, the Spirit of Endeavour, pursued the mysteries of the Inside Passage, taking us through breathtaking fjords and past massive glaciers; fragrant forests; and rugged, snow-capped peaks. We spotted an astonishing variety of wildlife, including humpback and killer whales, harbor seals, bald eagles, brown and black bears, mountain goats, puffins and Rufus hummingbirds. One memorable day, our captain actually backed up the ship so we could follow the path of a foraging black bear. Another day, he steered the ship to the very edge of Hole in the Wall Falls in Tracy Arm so two crew members in waterproof gear could gather a pitcher of glacier water for us to taste. And when the waters of Frederick Sound were unusually calm, a series of excursion boats took groups of us out to explore mist-shrouded Thomas Bay, where we were told a creepy, century-old tale about a gold prospector’s encounter with the legendary Kushtaka—Tlingit for “otter people” (half otter, half man, according to Tlingit legend). Searching for gold in the area, the prospector was chased out of the woods by a frightening group of “devils,” “shaggy beasts” who resembled both “men and monkeys.” There’s even a book about it: The Strangest Story Ever Told.

Watching the Glacier Channel
Nightly, our “exploration leaders” gave talks on what we would be seeing the next day...describing the region’s history, culture, geology and wildlife. (Those who wanted to relax in their rooms could listen via the intercom.) In preparation for our cruise into Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve, a National Park Ranger came on board for the day. He was an impassioned font of information about the park, its wildlife and its geology.

One of the most visited national parks in the state, and home to some 15 tidewater glaciers, all of Glacier Bay was under ice a mere 200 years ago. The park’s official map and guide indicates the approximate times when various lands and waters of the park were exposed to the atmosphere. Such rapid glacial retreat is known nowhere else, and attracts intense scientific interest.

Cruising up Glacier Bay as we did, in effect, mimics glacial retreat: Bartlett Cove, near the entrance to the park, is carpeted in mature spruce and hemlock forest; progressing northward, the vegetation grows increasingly younger, until you arrive at the bare earth of the bay’s farthest reaches—its most stunning, otherworldly scenery. (An interesting note: as the pressing weight of retreating glaciers withdraws, the previously submerged land is actually rising in height—in some instances as much as two inches a year—a process known as isostatic rebound.) These factors were explained in depth during our cruise of the bay, but I barely heard, because the scenery was so extraordinary. Expect to be impressed.

After deftly navigating a sea of floating hunks of ice, the captain brought us to a stop in front of two sprawling tidewater glaciers roughly at right angles to each other—Margerie and the Grand Pacific. Here we enjoyed a front-row seat to a spectacular display of calving—huge chunks of ice breaking free and dropping into the bay—which set off a fanfare of waves and thunderous sound effects (imagine echoing pops and explosions of gunfire).

The Small-Ship Experience
By now, the prime advantages of small-ship cruising—its flexibility and accessibility—should be obvious. But there are still more, such as little or no time spent in line; a gentler impact on the environment and communities visited; and a more informal onboard ambience.

For socializing, the popular choice was easily the lounge. Convenient to wildlife watching on the bow, it was a cozy spot as well for a light breakfast, enjoying a game of Scrabble®, or—the odds-on favorite—cocktail hour. With tasty hors d’oeuvres and a different featured cocktail every evening, the atmosphere was ideal for building new friendships, sharing the day’s exploits or simply chilling out. And it was during cocktail hour that Irv, our debonair bayou-country chef, would regale us with drawling descriptions of what was coming up for dinner.

These dinners became a nightly ritual to savor, with their passing backdrop of ravishing scenic beauty, creative cuisine served at an unhurried pace, and animated conversation about the day’s adventures.

The Large-Ship Experience
While small-ship cruising excels at bringing you up close to Alaska’s beauty and wildlife in an intimate, casual setting, exploring Alaska onboard a large ship has its own unique appeal. (Many of my fellow passengers had tried both and enjoyed them with equal enthusiasm.) On Holland America’s ms Zaandam, for example, exploring the Inside Passage is an altogether upscale affair, accompanied by a top-flight spa, dazzling nightlife and casino action, and a five-star assortment of splendid restaurants. In fact, the entire fleet has been inducted into the Confrérie de la Chaîne des Rôtisseurs, a prestigious society founded in Paris that is devoted to promoting the pleasures of the table.

But regardless of your cruising personality, be assured of one thing: no earthly pleasure can surpass the spectacle of a whale breaching while a late-night sunset flames the snow-capped peaks of Alaska’s Inside Passage. That’s an experience that will linger deep in your heart...long past dessert.

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