I woke this morning knowing that there was a high likelihood that, by the end of the day, I’d be buried under the sheets with something nasty. I was very unhappy with that reality because the one thing I did not want to do – while on a cruise, sharing a small room with my mother – was get sick.
I’ve been washing my hands constantly, avoiding door handles, used so much disinfectant gel that I’m sure I’ve lost a layer of skin on my hands. But when there’s 2,000 people in an enclosed space, I guess it’s somewhat inevitable. For all I know, I caught this while wandering through a gift shop.
I went up to watch our approach to Ketchikan, our last actual stop on this trip. We were exiting from Clarence Strait, which we had come into overnight from our journey to Glacier Bay, yesterday. It was quiet, barely any wind.
There were precious few of us on the Deck 6 forward outside viewing our transit. Some came and went, I stayed out mostly in hopes that some fresh air might do me some good. But my initial outside venture was without a camera, causing me to miss the dolphins. I went back to pick up my lenses (a 24-70mm and a 70-300m) and watched the slow crawl into the Tongass Narrows towards Ketchikan.
Three other ships were already in port when we arrived: the Ruby (again), it’s sister ship Princess Sapphire, and the smaller Viking Venus (finally, a ship smaller than ours). Our ship is still the Old Lady at the pier.
We were in no rush to get off, wanting to avoid the crush that was Juneau. However, the geniuses that organize the disembarkation really missed accessibility needs and blocked off the forward elevators from accessing the second deck – Mom had to climb the stairs. It really highlighted that, in an emergency evacuation from Deck 1, there was a high likelihood that Mom might not make it to Deck 3 without assistance.
The view from the Promenade Deck into Ketchikan was very touristy: multitudes of busses ready to whisk people away to wherever (we didn’t do any excursions outside of the train in Skagway, and I couldn’t find a single thing in Ketchikan worth going out of our way for), a big Welcome to Ketchikan sign, and a litany of jewelry stores.
Still on a mission for some native (and preferably local) arts, we went into what we thought was an arts and crafts store just down from the Zaandam … only to find it was, yet again, a jewelry shop. Every bloody stop on this trip has been non-stop jewelry. Hell, the ship has a jewelry shop. There’s 9 shops within two blocks in front of the Zaandam. There might be more jewelry stores here than in Calgary.
I cannot fathom how these places make any money, but according to the guy running the “arts and crafts” store, he thinks there aren’t enough jewelry stores. Apparently, Americans love baubles.
We walked the block to the Southeast Alaska Discovery Center. This wasn’t a particular direction, it was mostly because we found it while we were wandering. I had a goal in mind, and this just happened to be on the way. There was, zero surprise, a gift shop. There was, also unsurprisingly, little of interest. I engaged in a conversation with the rather portly cashier about caffeinated drinks (he had a coworker bring him back an “energy” drink, but refused to drink coffee).
From there, we went to the eastern entrance to Creek Street. This is the “historic, seedy” part of Ketchikan. Which means that it’s been completely cleaned up, turned into a tourist zone, and filled with shops with questionable level of quality within. Oh, and one former brothel turned into a museum.
Creek Street is so named for Ketchikan Creek, which divided the original settlement of Ketchikan from the lawless areas “outside” Ketchikan. (Hence the brothels, saloons, and who knows what else. They could operate as Ketchikan’s laws simply didn’t apply there, and Alaska was a mere territory or district, meaning laws were … not well regarded.) It was so popular that the western entrance to Creek Street is known as “Married Mens’ Trail”.
The creek itself is somewhat tidal. The bulk of the “nice” tourist photos are when the tide is in, giving it a calm, even look. We were there at low tide, during which it’s a fairly rough waters over the rocks and around the piles that hold up the buildings at the creek’s edge. But despite four cruise ships being in port, it was surprisingly light on people.
We worked our way down to the other end, Mom periodically stopping in stores, looking for souvenirs for the kids. Hilariously, her choice were shirts inspired (and made) by indigenous West Coast peoples … from British Columbia.
We worked our way back to the ship. Mom was hitting her limits and I didn’t want to press her any, especially as I was feeling steadily worse. We from the the hot dog joint in the pool area, which were supposedly from Nathan’s. It was pretty much exactly what I wanted – nothing fancy, nice and tasty.
But by this point, my illness had more or less declared I was going down. It was only a question of when. I could either attempt to have a nap and go out later, or go out and do what I needed to do before I packed it in. I figured I might not get out of bed later, so headed right back out.
I did Alex’s caching, including getting multiple pictures of The Rock, a sculpture just in front of the ship, for a Virtual Cache. Then went to the falls along the Married Mens’ Trail, and out to the fish ladder (which turned out to not be as interesting as I had hoped), then went back to Creek Street. Illness, whatever it was, was winning. I had to sit to get enough energy to finish.
The one thing I could not find was a working ATM. So far, not a dime was spent with paper or metal money – all of it was credit card. But you can’t leave a tip for your room porters without actual money. I felt bad that I wouldn’t be able to leave something for Hengke, given how well he’d treated us. Fortunately, Mom was a bit more old school and had a few USD remaining.
Mom was elsewhere, either still next to the pool or had gone up the Crow’s Nest. I texted her as I arrived, but went right to bed and passed out.
Mom promptly became Mom again, Momming me incessantly like I was 15 again. She did have a few good points, but didn’t like it when I pushed back. Apparently I’ve been difficult. Who knew? I mean, it’s not like I haven’t taken care of myself for the last 30-odd years whenever I’ve gotten sick. (Although Alex and the kids are helpful, they don’t nag me endlessly to eat.)
I didn’t eat dinner. Mom finally got her escargot, though. She also had Tylenol Cold & Flu, which I was thankful for. I haven’t travelled without Alex and her portable pharmacy for so long I didn’t even think of what I might need.
Mom watched over me and played solitaire. She wouldn’t even turn on the TV. All I could do was suffer with headaches and chest rattling, and pray that I didn’t infect her.
