Soaking wet in Sitka

Our first stop was Sitka, a small town with huge beauty and a surprising history. We rode a catamaran through the Sitka Sound and all its densely-forested islands in hopes of catching our first glimpse of some wildlife. As welcome as the rain initially was--the Bay area hasn't had real precipitation in seven months--I worried that we wouldn't see much besides fog and water. That shows you how little I know, because not five minutes into our excursion a humpback whale appears and dances around our boat for the next half-hour or so. I should warn you right now that I AM AN AWFUL PHOTOGRAPHER, especially when timing is involved. That whale must have jumped out of the water six or seven times, and every time I clicked our camera to catch that magical whale-out-of-water shot, I'd check the shot and see only a splash. The same thing happened with the falling chunks of glacier that everybody else seemed to be easily capturing on film. I got nothin'.

Anyway, I stood on the top of that catamaran, soaking the bottom of my jeans and almost ruining the lense of our camera (you should've seen the way people rigged ziploc bags around their fancy lenses to protect them), since Stephen had long given up on holding the umbrella over me to catch that perfect whale shot. He headed to the lower deck for some hot chocolate and indoor warmth while I hung with the wet die-hards on top, just sure I'd get it on the next one. Didn't happen, but I did get to talk to and eavesdrop on some interesting folk.

Next came sea otters, who I think are about the cutest things ever, and some harbor seals, along with a pair of bald eagles perched atop some tall trees, the sheeting rain clearly not an issue for them. The views of these islands and the huge mountains set right on the coastline were beautiful, albeit very foggy. It honestly reminded me, as did much of the Alaskan towns and coastline we saw, of Kuaui--such green, lush mountains built into the coastline and island landscape, and yet it also reminded me of the San Juan Islands off Washington with the trees and rugged rocks. I know it sounds crazy, but that's what I kept thinking: "It's like Kuaui meets the San Juans."

We hit the town, which although tiny is still riddled with touristy gift shops that all look the same, after our catamaran ride to see what we could of "Russian America." The Russian Orthodox church was smaller than we'd expected once we got inside, so we decided to go pay homage to the Tlingit Indians and their totem poles on the edge of town. Really long walk. Really wet walk. Stephen was ready to turn around and head back as soon as we got there, but luckily I convinced him to hike a few trails that surround the heritage center. We came upon a river with HUGE salmon jumping literally every foot or two, and the sides of the river a sort of cemetery for salmon who'd spawned and passed on. Sort of sad and depressing to see all those dead fish... and more strange with all the live ones swimming next to them, but also amazing to see that many gigantic salmon in one place. We saw them jumping right off shore as we walked back to town. There was a guy fishing who didn't need luck on his side that day.

The totem poles tucked in the woods of the trails were fun to stumble upon; they took me right back to third grade. A lot of this trip reminded me of elementary school, in fact, where I learned and knew way more than I do now about whales, sea otters, bears, bald eagles, Alaska, and all things connected to Native American life. Should I be concerned about that? We were searching for a fort but ended up on the site of the famous battle between the Tlingit and the Russians, a beach with more dead salmon and some spectacular views. Stephen put his big soggy foot down and declared it time to turn back, a welcome directive for my equally sopping wet socks and tennis shoes.