The Alaska Adventure
· 16 June 2007 ·

We’ve gone and done it. Went and pulled up our roots.
We made port in the land of the midnight sun! Not only
that, but apperently they have sun in the day too. The
locals are standing around covering their eyes and looking confused. “Whats that thing in the sky? Its soooooo bright!” Through some strange fluke we (me, mike, aaron, and Andy “the bad dogg” Cook) are enjoying the only three days of sun
Ketchikan’s gets all year.

What a weight off my shouldiers this is turning out to
be. No curriculm to worry over now. Gone is the push
and hustle of the United States of Zenophobia, with
its churning smoke stacks and Mcshit Nuggets of Greasy
Death, supersized over and over. Here Bald Eagals
roost in a fir tree outside my morning window.
Ketchican is built on the the tide line (it’s too
steep elsewere). The tides are nearly sixteen feet, but I still havent figured out why. Most of the towns on stilts, with planks
spanning them. These walkways are achient and the hard
knots rise up from thier surface like so many pimples.
Its the result of gernerations of feet, hoves and
wagon weels and more rencently, tires. The sun sets here around 11Pm but you know, it never really gets dark. Imagine the that first touch of morning light on the lopez skyline after one of Riley’s keggers. The suns passage is low, but angularly very broad.

The ferry ride up was lovely. The ferry itself is
outragious. It has a in no particular order, A map
room, a theater, a bar (with a piano), a solarium with
neon yellow lights and 20 space heaters (tahiti in
Alaska) and a boat load of northward bound folks. The
latter is a mix of canery workers fishermen and
families. There was even a real 49’er onbord (What
hair!) The ships gally was foolishly overstocked with
condements. Not having any Blue Cheese Dressing (salad
dressing made by Jesus himself, no doubt) for our
vegitables, we figured somthing must be done. But the
pump on the dressing was simply not industrial enough
to fill the 40oz Dr. Pepper bottle we hade on hand. At
two in the morn we were forced to open the lid and use
cups to relay the heavenly sauce to its new home. Shit
a fish, what a mess! Shit a big dead fish! Although it was
late, I still figured I should clean up the Hansel and
Grettle trail of the stuff leading back to our bunks.

Written by Richard Reeves