Seattle Stay

To paraphrase Samuel Johnson, when a man is tired of Seattle, he is tired of life.  Of course Johnson was referring to London’s rich artistic and intellectual life.  Seattle has its theatres and museums (not like London of course), but it has an outdoor life that is the city’s pulse, everything centered on its bays, sounds, rivers, and lakes.  So if you love water, boating, and enjoy eating at fine restaurants, buying the freshest produce, every imaginable kind of fish and magnificent bouquets of flowers at Pike’s Market and other grocery stores, this is the place to live. There is an idiosyncratic almost hippie vibe to the city, mixed with the high tech nature of its business focus.

Our goal during our brief five day visit was to see as much of Seattle as we could after our Alaska cruise.  We were able to enjoy the city in all its dimensions in such a short period as the couple who we met on our river cruise last year, Edna and Mark, said if we ever visit Seattle, call us. We did.  They are inveterate Seattlephiles. Younger than we, they are active outdoor people and showed us the Seattle that few tourists can see in such a short time, not to mention negotiating the nightmarish traffic of the city. 

We also did some of the obligatory “tourist stuff” on our own, sparing Edna and Mark the ignominy of it all, a visit to the top of the Space Needle, a ride on the 175 foot ferris wheel extending over Elliot Bay, and even, embarrassed to admit this, a Ride the Duck tour – on a refurbished WWII amphibious landing craft.  In our case, one made by Studebaker! (How many remember that distinctive, but long-gone automaker?)

To understand Seattle, one must know its waterways, Puget Sound leading to Elliot Bay to the west of the city, Lake Union leading to one set of locks to the Puget Sound at the north, and Lake Washington to the east. Waterfront is king in the city and one may view the city from all different waterfront angles, ferries constantly running to Bainbridge Island to Seattle’s west.  There are many distinct neighborhoods in Seattle, each with its own unique characteristics.   Edna and Mark took us for a tour of several, again, something a mere tourist could rarely see without a car.

One of those neighborhoods to the north is Ballard where the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks can be toured.  There are beautiful parks and gardens there as well and, a fish ladder so salmon and steelhead can go upstream to fresh water from the Puget Sound to spawn. We were visiting toward the end of the King Salmon season, but there was still some action and as it was a Sunday afternoon, there was lots of boat traffic returning to their fresh water ports.  (Mark was wearing the same turquoise shirt that Ann said looked great on him last year during the river cruise, and he had remembered, but when we stepped into the car that last Sunday morning in Seattle, Ann made the same observation.  No memory of saying it before, but least she’s consistent -- and observant!)

Our first and second days (and nights) after the cruise were mostly spent with them.  At night we had dinner, they making the choice of the first restaurant and we having the impudence of suggesting the restaurant for the second night.  I don’t think it’s possible to get a bad meal in Seattle.  Each and every place we ate -- from touristy spots to some of the better restaurants -- was outstanding.  The ubiquitous NE clam chowder which is on most menus and at least one of us regularly ordered, seemed to be one of those award-winning soups which tasted equally delicious from restaurant to restaurant leading to our speculation that there must be one central place where it is made in a huge vat and delivered fresh to all of Seattle’s restaurants:-).

Edna and Mark took us to Salty’s that first night, as much for the food, as for the exceptional view of the sunset reflecting off Seattle’s buildings across the Bay.  But we turned the tables on them the second night, visiting the same restaurant we ate at a week earlier on our way to Alaska, Crow.  As they do not live in the Queen Anne neighborhood where our hotel was, and they have plenty of fine restaurants in their own neighborhood, they were not familiar with Crow. 

We had raved about it to them, almost forced them to go, and then began to feel a little nervous – will it be as good as the build up?  Will they be disappointed (and we embarrassed?).  It was as good if not better than our first visit.  They’re going back.  Wish we could too, although we have some fine restaurants within a short distance of our home, including those on Palm Beach.  But it’s the ambiance too (it has a funky upscale warehouse feeling), and they keep their menu limited to only 5 or 6 dishes and then do them supremely well, which makes this restaurant distinctive.  If you ever have a chance to eat one meal in Seattle, eat at Crow!! (No, they don’t serve crow there :-). 

A special highlight was visiting the Chihuly Garden and Glass Museum, the miraculous brainchild of the now internationally acclaimed artist Dale Chihuly.  He is from the Seattle area (Tacoma) so this houses some of his most significant works.  It opened in 2012, and it is absolutely breathtaking!  It is right at the base of the Space Needle and all of this was a few blocks from our hotel.  His pieces are outer-worldly in color and artistry and he created an outdoor garden (his first ever) to showcase many of his other glass pieces, these being heavier and thicker for outside display.  Each piece of glass inside the museum is hand cleaned every single day to remove any dust or dirt!  Amazing. 

We ate in the Museum Cafe where we had a delicious lunch (what else in Seattle, including the clam chowder!) and admired all of his collections of antique memorabilia, from Christmas ornaments to toy soldiers, from clocks to teapots, church keys, and accordions hanging from the ceiling. A surprise for me was to see his collection of Edward S. Curtis’ photogravures of the North American Indian, the same ones that I worked on in the New York Public library in the late 1960’s as the publishing firm I worked for in New York was reprinting his entire collection.  I was a Production Manager then, preparing the photogravures for offset printing, ordering the paper (I still remember -- 60# Warrens Patina paper, a high opacity, calendered, cream-color stock, so appropriate for those historic prints). Where did Chihuly have time to amass all these collections while creating such beautiful glass work?  One simply cannot describe it all and hopefully some of the photos do the talking.

Another day we rode the 1962 World's Fair monorail to Pike's market, marveled at all the produce, fish and exquisite flowers, the likes of which we had never seen before, rode on the Ferris Wheel, ate lunch on the water, took a 2 hour informative boat ride on Puget Sound, walked through the Seattle Aquarium and took photos in front of the original Starbucks.

And let's not forget the butterfly collection at the Science Museum where we also "sat for breakfast" (the museum's intention to demonstrate relativity).

The ride on the amphibious vehicle (Ride the Duck) was absolutely campy.  One could not help but get into the touristy nature of it, singing and calling out together at passersbys on the street who accustomed to this frivolity were gracious in their acknowledgement of us crazy people.  The Duck took us to idiosyncratic destinations, tours on the water of houseboats galore, not to mention the infamous Sleepless in Seattle houseboat which recently sold for $2 million.  The tour concludes with a rousing chorus of the Village People’s “Y-M-C-A,” and from my salad days I still remember the hand gestures and joined in the silliness.  Good to be silly in such a beautiful place and a perfect sunny day (the locals propagate the rumor that Seattle is 100% gloomy and rainy to keep the population down).

 

Also in the “campy camp” was a brief visit to Paul Allen’s homage to American Popular culture, the EMP Museum.  Strange to walk through a museum which simply recounts the music and pop “culture” of the 60’s and 70’s (mostly), with a particular focus on Jimi Hendrix memorabilia, years I vividly remember.  Now my memories are museum worthy.  There are so many exhibits to explore there, the most interesting one to me being a giant guitar sculpture consisting of more than 500 musical instruments.

 

We decided to leave Seattle a couple of days earlier than planned.  First, Mark and Edna took us everywhere!  And, from our centrally located hotel, we had accomplished all the touristy stuff and we had matters to attend to at home.  Also, American Airlines had changed our return flight three times, the last change departing Seattle at 6.00 AM, and we’d have to get up at 4.00 AM or earlier to make our flight.    Having arm wrestled with an American agent (couldn’t make the changes on line without ridiculous charges), we were able to get a 12.20 PM flight two days earlier, again through Dallas, making a connection with a 1.50 hour window, and then to West Palm Beach.

We arrived at the airport with enough time to get an early lunch, and then waited at the gate which had an on time departure.  We had already lined up for boarding when the agent at the desk (and I was standing right in front) announced that they just received word that Dallas was experimenting with a new air traffic system and they’ve delayed our flight to 3.00 PM (and therefore we would be unable to make our connection, visions of spending the night in Dallas) and even the 2.00 flight would leave before the 12.20.  Naturally there was pandemonium at the gate, people surging to speak to the agents. One person was screaming at the top of her lungs, “I want to speak to a supervisor!!!” Ha.

As I was right there, I formed a single line for the next available agent (there were two).  Meanwhile the surging, crazy mob pushed and formed two lines not even acknowledging my place. I was on the phone with an American Million Miler agent while waiting and she said they had no information on a delay and therefore couldn’t help.  Meanwhile I was arguing with people on both lines that I would be next at which point I heard the agent at the desk talking on her cell saying, “are you sure, we’re boarding immediately and departing at 12.37?”  I could see her grabbing the microphone to make the announcement so I left the line and got into the boarding line and indeed, the announcement was made.  Again the surging mobs.

The airlines have made everyone crazy, fighting for overhead bin space.  We had two small carry-ons, having checked our luggage, but many people were carrying not one but two pieces of luggage, the maximum size for the overheads.  It’s almost rendering air travel impossible (for me at least) unless we pay up for first class. As the Sunday New York Times noted in “A Recipe for Air Rage” – “pack passengers tightly, add the stress and fatigue of travel, stir well and stand back!”

 

Not the end of the saga though.  Because of the late departure (later than 12.37) and given the size of the Dallas airport, our connection might be in jeopardy.  The pilot said he’d try to make up time.  He could not.  Meanwhile, as we approached Dallas, an American hub, the long list of connection flights and gates was read out. We were arriving in terminal C and our flight was departing from A10 although we were told A9 when we checked our luggage tag, both a long ride on the Dallas terminal-connecting train.  But it seemed we’d have enough time.  We landed and began to approach our gate and the pilot announced another plane was still there and we’d have to wait about 15 minutes, which was about the margin of error I figured for safely making our connecting flight.  To the iPhone I went to check whether our departing plane was still on time.  It was.  But it also reported that the departure gate was A28, not A9 or A10 as announced (conjuring up scenes from the 1980 movie satire of air travel Airplane!).  I showed this to the flight attendant and asked what should we believe, their announcement, my luggage receipt, or what is on the American Air site on my phone?  She said the phone; they frequently get wrong information on the plane!  And she also advised that we hoof it to the gate as it is closer to the one we’re arriving at.  It would be faster than the connecting tram.

After 15 minutes we indeed got to the gate and began our trek.  Well, “close” in the Dallas airport has a different meaning than most places.  It was still a long haul but we found an attendant with an electric cart for disabled people, just waiting for business, and figured as older folk we qualified, and he was happy to take us.  It was further than we had imagined and we pulled up to the A28 (and I had verified the gate by checking the board before embarking on the trek), but the flight sign read Austin, TX!  Our driver inquired.  No, that was the last flight; they just hadn’t posted the soon-to-leave West Palm flight.  So all was well after all, but the needless anxiety.

We finally arrived home after midnight, tired, but thankful to Edna and Mark for sharing their time and love of amazing Seattle with us. 

Alaska Cruise

Embarrassing to admit that I’ve lost track of the number of cruises we have taken. But I know for a fact this was our second cruise to Alaska, with almost but not quite the same itinerary.  Why go back after nine years?  Alaska was one of our favorite cruise destinations, a visual splendor unlike any we’ve known, massive in its grandeur, the only comparable natural wonder that we’ve seen being the Grand Canyon.  I think of Alaska’s glaciers (most of which are receding) and majestic mountain ranges as almost other worldly, knowing that under our ship the glaciers have carved deep craters below. 

The highlight of this week was a full day of slowly cruising around in the placid waters of Glacier Bay National Park, a World Heritage site, a United Nations biosphere reserve that is managed by the National Park Service.  It is not often that ships have the full reign of that territory. More on that below.

We had another motive for this trip and that was to see Seattle, a city we’ve passed through but never visited in detail.  The other special reason for visiting the city was to spend time with Edna and Mark, a younger and very energetic couple we enjoyed getting to know on our European River Cruise last year. They frequently talked about how unique and special their city was and how much they loved living there.   They said if we ever visited Seattle, they’d want to show us around, so when we told them we were coming to take them up on their invitation, I believe they were as excited as we were.

I will write separately about our Seattle visit so this entry covers half our trip. Our departure from Palm Beach airport to Seattle included a tight connection in Dallas.  Anyone who has flown through Dallas knows it’s a huge airport and although they have a tram that runs from one terminal to another, getting to some terminals takes longer than others.  On the flight to Dallas they announced our arrival at terminal A and our departure gate to Seattle at gate B29, an easy one stop ride to B terminal.  So we get on the tram, get to B and discover that B29 does not exist, with B28 being the last gate in Dallas’ B terminal.  I looked at the board, and our soon-to-depart plane was leaving from the C terminal, which we made in the nick of time.  I tell this story as there is an analogous, more interesting one that I’ll include in my Seattle write up.  American Airlines needs to buy a good computer! Their logistical planning and information provided to passengers needs improvement.  The one big plus about our flight into Seattle included a great view of Mt. Rainier from 30,000 feet, a relatively clear day in Seattle.

We decided to fly into Seattle the night before, although the cruise was scheduled to leave in the late afternoon the next day.  No sense leaving arrival to chance.  And dealing with connecting flights as we did we would have been cutting things close if we came in the day of the cruise, too close.   Using points, we stayed at the Hampton Inn Downtown. 

We are long time Hilton Honors members, frequently staying at their Hampton Inns up and down the 95 corridor.  That route normally leaves dreary eating choices at America’s on the road fine restaurants such as Arby’s  Denny’s, and Hooter’s and the like (actually, good catfish at Cracker Barrel), so staying at Hampton has conditioned us to eat in, even if it means picking up a Subway.  No such thing in Seattle which probably has more good restaurants per capita than most cities in the US and the Hampton Inn suggested “Crow” – a two block walk from the hotel.  Eating at Crow; it seemed incongruous until we looked up reviews – one of the most highly praised – in the top dozen – restaurants in Seattle among some 2,000!  We liked the irony that (as anyone knows who reads this blog) we’ve been going to “Crow Island” in the Long Island Sound for more than 30 years where we have a mooring.  So, hi ho, hi ho, it was off to Crow we went and what a meal.  We ate there again when we returned to Seattle, so I’ll save the details for my Seattle entry (getting ahead of myself again)

The next morning we packed up, and took a van to the ship.  Boarding was effortless.  It helps that Holland America’s Westerdam has “only” some 2,000 passengers, which is now only one third the size of some of the mega ships negotiating certain waters.  That’s our maximum for any cruise line.

On board, we settled into our stateroom, took part in the life boat drill, and then joined fellow passengers for a view of Seattle from the aft pool deck area for the “sail away,” music, snacks, champagne and the like.  But the main attraction was the Seattle skyline, the shipyards, and the breathtaking views of the Olympic and Cascade mountain ranges.  Passengers were mostly American and mostly from the west coast, with many from Seattle.  In fact we sat with such a couple, she happy to be underway, he not too sure.  It was hazier than the day we arrived so Mt. Rainier loomed in the distance sort of like a snow-laden Bali Ha’i.

 

Holland America has graduated to anytime seating and that worked out well for us, sometimes meeting interesting couples, and sometimes meeting couples with whom we had absolutely nothing in common.  The latter became the norm so we generally requested a table for two and normally was accommodated.  Holland America has maintained its excellence in food selection and preparation.  I usually had a good piece of fish which is an improvement over many ships we’ve been on.

Since I’m discussing the cruise line, I might as well get the “entertainment” out of the way.  We don’t go on these cruises for such, but in the evening we’ve been accustomed to seeing some fine production shows over the years, on Holland America as well as some other cruise lines.  The ones we enjoy focus on the Great American Songbook, Broadway and standard songs and the like, with interesting choreography, but alas the influence of shows like “The Voice”, “America has Talent” and “American Idol” now trumps the American Songbook and production shows are geared to a demographic we don’t relate to, loud, spectacular (well, they think they are “spectacular”) effects, with subpar singers and worse dances grinding out this tedium.  They have “theme oriented” shows, such as “at the movies” which I thought might be classic songs from musical films we all know and love.  Goodbye Rodgers and Hammerstein and hello unrecognizable and unmemorable songs, ones I suspect had been written for a flat fee, paid to young songwriters, so the cruise lines do not have to pay royalties over and over again.  Just atrocious.  Save your time and go back to your room and read as we did.

The only exception to this was a duet of two young Ukrainian female musicians, a pianist and violinist.  “Adagio” played every night in one of the small lounges, reminding me of Kafka’s The Hunger Artist, ignored by most of the crowd who are surging to watch the lions eat (the production shows).  So we would frequently be there almost alone as these young musicians played classical duets for piano and violin, while apologizing in their broken English for not knowing many “American” songs yet (no apology necessary from our viewpoint; it’s we who should be apologizing to them for so few of our shipmates being in attendance).  So, thankfully for “Adagio” we developed the routine of hearing them first before going to dinner and then back to our room to read.  (I’ll have to write a separate entry on reading on the trip which ranged from John Updike, to Ian McKuen, to Jack Kerouac).  I was grateful to have some really good books, particularly for those evenings and our first day, which was entirely at sea as we travelled the 880 nautical miles to Juneau, our first port

Also part of the routine, mine anyhow, was an early morning walk on the Promenade deck.  I usually walked this alone or with just a few other people, most preferring to sleep in or, if exercising, walking on a treadmill at the gym.  Nice to be out even in a gusty, cool wind, and watch the sunrise and feel the ship surging under you.  Walk around decks are disappearing from ships now being built, utilizing that space for revenue-producing venues, so the older, traditional ships, for me at least, are preferred.

Arriving in Juneau at 12.30 PM Alaska time (4 hours difference vs. the east coast), we had scheduled the same tour we did nine years ago, our favorite one as it is entirely nature focused and on a small ship.  The objective was to view whales, but there were sea lions and American bald eagles as well.  Nine years ago, when on a similar vessel, I was on the port side and Ann on the starboard.  I had the camera, snapping away at whales surfacing to breathe and then diving, when a large cry came from starboard.  I rushed over only to see the splash after a whale had totally breached, Ann witnessing the event without a camera while I was on the other side.  A total breach photograph is considered the pinnacle of whale photography, and truth be told (as our photographer and guide in residence on the ship related, Kelley, who has been cruising looking for such a photograph for 14 years), they happen when least expected, rarely, and photos are by accident.  She got her first such photograph earlier on a cruise this year.

 

So, again, we went out after such a photo.  This time, Ann was armed with her iPad so we had it covered from both sides of the ship, but no breach.  Still, to watch the whales (all humpbacks) in their natural habitat was exciting, seeing eagles, and sea lions was again a special experience, well worth the tour.

Next night and day we were on our way to Glacier Bay some 146 nautical miles further. The National Park service determines whether a ship may enter.  The Master of the MS Westerdam, Captain Rens Van Eeten said it was the first cruise of the season where he was permitted to not only enter Glacier Bay, but to proceed to the Margerie Glacier about 55 nautical miles and then to Johns Hopkins Glacier which is at the farthest end, some 63 nautical miles from the entrance to the bay.

We were lucky enough to have spectacular sunny weather to view this first hand, and we had the same fortune nine years ago.  Perhaps my only regret is if I was much younger, and had the means to do it, this is a trip which would be incredibly special on one’s own boat.  The Park permits 25 private vessels at a time in the Bay, although last cruise we saw only one, a motor yacht and this year, only one sail boat, about 40 feet.  There is ice floating in the bay, large chunks, so one must take care.  These are the bergs from the calving process, breaking into icebergs and then falling into the Bay, sometimes with thundering noise and waves.  We witnessed some of that this year, more nine years ago.

The scenery is spectacular.  I must have taken 400 photos and can just squeeze in a few here.  No wonder it is the largest UNESCO protected biosphere in the world.  The Bay covers some 1,375 square miles and glaciers account for about a quarter of the area.  The mountain peaks soar above you.  The weather was calm, clear, and in the mid 40’s, just a perfect day to tour the entire Bay, lucky to be able to make it all the way to the Johns Hopkins Glacier, the only advancing tidewater glacier in the Bay now.  Most are receding. 

Tell that to those who don’t believe in global warming, such as Rep. Larry Bucshon of Indiana from the House Science Committee who was challenged by John Holdren, director of the White House Office of Science and Technology Policy that he should look at the scientific literature if he doesn’t believe in the phenomenon of global warming.  Bucshon replied "Of all the climatologists whose careers depend on the climate changing to keep themselves publishing articles — yes, I could read that, but I don't believe it."  Perhaps Bucshon should visit Alaska?

From Glacier Bay the ship made a 200 NM run to Sitka, a port we hadn’t visited before.  This was of interest to me as it is where the United States reached an agreement to purchase Alaska from Russia for the mere price of $7.2 million in 1867.  Russia had settlements there mainly for the fur trade and had pretty well decimated the sea otter population and that, combined with its inability to defend the territory if war commenced with Britain dictated the sale.  It was called “Seward’s Folly” as U.S. Secretary of State William H. Seward conducted the negotiations soon after our Civil War.  Imagine $7.2 million for a cake of ice more than twice the size of Texas!  In any case, it was here in Sitka where the transfer ceremony took place on October 18, 1867.  The Russian presence is still evident, especially with the beautifully maintained and still functioning St. Michael's Cathedral in downtown Sitka. 

We departed Sitka at 2:30 pm and made way another 214 NM to Ketchikan, a port we’ve visited before, arriving at 6:30 in the morning.  There we wandered into town with a special mission to visit Creek Street, infamously known in the 1920’s for its “bootlegged booze, loose women, hot music, and rowdy customers.” It also has a stream where the salmon were still running and predators awaited, the sea lions for an easy catch and the seagulls when the sea lions had to come up for air.  No wonder Ketchikan is known as the "Salmon Capitol of the World." Unfortunately, Alaska’s weather had degraded after several magnificent days, so Ketchikan was a rainy day.  Still, fascinating.

 

At about 1:00 pm we set off for Victoria, BC a long run of 578 NM and part of that day, the evening, and the next was spent in fog banks.  The ship had to slow down and it delayed our arrival in Victoria BC to 6:15 PM, hardly worth getting off the ship in that we were departing at 11:00 PM.  We had been to Victoria twice before, experiencing its beautiful inner harbor, the Empress Hotel, its Parliament building, and it’s magnificent Butchart Gardens, so, sadly, this time around we had to pass on a visit, enjoying instead a quiet dinner on board, and photographing the lights of Parliament from the ship.

Another 77 NM brought us back to Seattle the next morning, seven wonderful days, covering 2,095 nautical miles, and reinforcing our memories and love of Alaska.  I’ll continue this narrative on the Seattle portion of the trip sometime soon.  As a reminder, best way to enjoy the photographs is to click onto the first one and then a string of all the photos will appear at the bottom and one can quickly click through them all. 

      

Dawning

We’re going off to Seattle and Alaska so for a while this space will be quiet.  I hope to have some interesting tales and photographs upon our return.

I write this with a great sense of sadness as thirteen years ago we watched the smoke drift from the north to the south when the World Trade Towers were attacked and fell, a day in our lives we will never forget. Although we were some fifty miles away, it was a clear, crisp autumn-like morning sky and we could see it clearly from our boat in Norwalk, CT.  Such senselessness, the loss of life of so many innocent men and women, and yet the monstrous hatred that spawned those attacks continues.  We can only hope that the administration’s plans as laid out by President Obama last night will contain and perhaps destroy ISIS.  It is obviously a war without end.

My older son, Chris, wrote a poem about 9/11 that very day.  It’s a first-hand emotional account of the horror and the hope.

I’ve posted these before, but they’re lost among the hundreds of entries of this blog, so I’ve collected a few of my sunrise photographs, and repost them here, in remembrance.