Last Frontier Tales
Sea Lions and Whales and Otters and Puffins: Oh Boy!
Travel Review: Stan Stephens Cruises
By Hank Nuwer
My wife Gosia, daughter Natalia, and myself could not have been more excited when we reached a road sign noting the empty lots where Old Valdez stood until the Great Earthquake of 1964 caused its walls to tumble down like Jericho’s.
We had reached our destination to take a sea cruise across Prince William Sound on Captain Fred’s yacht Lu-Lu Belle.
Along the way, after a long drive on the incredibly scenic Richardson Highway, we had stopped in for lunch at the Old Town Copper Center Restaurant.
I read aloud the sign on the door. “Please check your guns at the door,”
I read.
Gosia joked. “But ours are locked up at home.”
“No worries,” I said. “If you don’t have one, they issue you one.”
We went inside and loved the place right-off,
It had suitable Alaska décor and a—Wait a second, what’s that sign with the five bullet holes say?
“Warning: Due to Price Increase on Ammo, Do Not Expect a Warning Shot,” I read aloud.
At that moment, the lone waitress working lunch came over to greet us and make sure we had menus, water, and all questions answered.
“She’s really friendly,” Natalia said.
“Maybe she’s just getting closer to us for a surer shot,” I said.
“Hush,” said Gosia in a whisper.
“Nobody says `Hush” anymore, Dear,” I said.
The ladies ordered seafood. I went back and forth between a bean burger and a carnivore burger, settling on the second choice.
We had a pleasant wait chatting and eavesdropping on a couple rugged local men wearing standard issue Carhartts, Wrangler jeans, scuffed boots and “gimme” ballcaps.
Well, the food turned out to be as good as the service—Excellent.
We thanked our server, paid the bill, and gave her back the revolvers she’d issued us when we entered—Just kidding.
The next stop was to see if any trace of the destroyed city remained. Nada. Just trash and a guy exercising his dog.
“The Bible tells the story of how the Man Upstairs smote Sodom, Gomorrah and Valdez,” I said.
“Oh, it does not,” Gosia said. “Besides, nobody says “smote” anymore, Dear.”
At that moment, I realized I had a voicemail. I listened to a Lu-Lu Belle staff member apologize.
I hung up and turned to the ladies. “We’ve literally missed the boat,” I said. “Our ride-along on the limousine of Prince William Sound has been cancelled.”
Gosia and Natalia told me to stop with the jokes.
“Unfortunately, it’s true,” I said, dialing the last caller.
A staffer picked right up and explained that there had been an accident. The yacht’s propeller had been damaged and needed to be shipped out for repair.
I forgot about being miffed about traveling all this way for nothing. Captain Fred was going to lose passengers at the heart of the tourist season.
“We’ll send a refund in a day or two,” the staffer said.
I expressed my condolences about the propeller and hung up. Gosia and Natalia were on the Internet. About one minute later they smiled and said they had booked with another cruise company.
We drove under the Valdez welcoming sign and checked in at the Glacier Hotel. The low daily prices were right, the rooms were adequate, and the lobby was a pleasant throwback to the “Happy Days” era.
The lady at the front desk said she had gone on the cruise last year and said the views of wildlife and a glacier were spectacular.
We stowed our gear and walked across the street to the Growler Bay Brewing Company. It was packed but we found three seats by a window.
The friendly bartender asked what we liked.
“Anything but IPA,” I said.
He served up two mugs of lovely light lager for Gosia and me, and a root beer for Natalia.
“Tasty,” said Gosia.
“Tasty,” said Natalia.
I downed mine and went back to get a root beer. It was tasty but not too sweet. “I just wish I could drop a dollop of vanilla ice cream in there,” I said.
“No one says `dollop,’ anymore, Hank,” said Natalia.
After a good night’s sleep and some cereal and eggs at the Glacier, we boarded the gangway for a Stan Stephens Glacier & Wildlife Cruise. Just before boarding we gawked at a pair of eagles perched high over a parking lot.
As the ship departed, I had a flashback of a disastrous cruise I had taken from Lima, Peru, out to an island teeming with sea lions. That captain had apparently flunked his mariner’s driving test and took us on a stop and go voyage that had about one hundred passengers throwing up.
Before long, I found that my worries were unfounded. Captain Chris offered the smoothest ride anyone could ask. I even dared to eat the clam chowder that came with the cruise. I passed nary a burp.
Captain Chris and a guide kept up a running patter of good information. They apologized and said we would be traveling along an inside passage to the Meares Glacier because the spectacular Columbia Bay Glacier was covered with dangerous huge chunks of ice.
“Uh oh, I bet I know how the Lu-Lu Belle’s propeller got dinged,” I said to Natalia and Gosia. “I know, I know. No one says `dinged’ anymore.”
For the next five hours we three were in heaven. We learned lots of history from the guide about the gold rush days here, and fox farming, the Alyeska Pipeline, commercial fishing and Captain Joe Hazelwood’s third mate’s unfortunate maneuvering of the Exxon Valdez into Bligh Reef.
Even better, we roamed the luxurious ship among well-mannered fellow passengers. We had a super visit up close and personal with Meares. This late May day it offered spectacular “calving” as huge chunks after chunks of glacier slid into the bay.
On the way to the glacier, we saw a school of humpback whales, another school of playful porpoises, more otters and puffins than we could count, and a whole Senate and House of Representatives of sea lions.
In short, we would give Mr. Stan Stephens and Captain Chris five stars out of five for an unforgettable marine wilderness experience.
Natalia is already back home in Europe. Gosia and I hope to return next year to Valdez to see the Columbia Glacier. By then, Captain Fred’s Lu-Lu Belle ought to be repaired and ready for us.
Hank Nuwer is on summer vacation from his teaching job at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks.
