Again, thanks to Kurt Dunbar. for this exceptional story! Ravens are truly wondrous birds, so full of mischief, and mystery. Read on:
Certain days just come together in an unpredictable and magical pattern. We all have them and they are all golden.
I had lot of them in Alaska but some were more “golden” than others.
Such a day was in store for me as the Ryndam steamed up Lynn Canal from Juneau. It was mid-August, bright, sunny and hot for Alaska, probably in the low to mid-70s. The sky was crystal clear and azure blue, a rarity for Southeast Alaska with its endemic rain, coastal fog and constant marine haze. Even on the water as we sailed north the air felt dry. It was as summer-like as summer ever gets in this region. Weather-wise, it was a perfect day.
Autumn comes early in the northland. Having lived in Alaska for many years, I sensed the slight feel to the air that hinted at summer’s wane. The long days of solstice and the slant of the intense mid-summer sunlight had shifted ever so slightly in the past few weeks. The change of the seasons was literally in the air.
Near the end Lynn Canal, one of the longest and certifiably the deepest fjords in Alaska, was the ship’s destination for the day, Haines, Alaska. Picturesque and surrounded by stunning coastal mountains to the west and the starkly beautiful Chilkat Range to the East, the town of Haines had sprung up around the time of the Klondike Gold Rush being a terminus of the Dalton Trail (today the Dalton Highway), which connected the interior Alaska and the Yukon to the Inside Passage of Southeast Alaska.
Just as the frenzy of the Klondike Rush began to wind down, Haines found itself a focal point in a growing political crisis between Canada and the United States. The boundary between Alaska and Canada had always been somewhat vague and undetermined. For hundreds of miles the border stretched along from highest peak to highest peaks in the remote coastal mountains of Southeast Alaska and the Fairweather Range. When Canada and its protector Great Britain made serious overtures to claim disputed areas in these areas the United States reacted with the “Big Stick.” The US Army was ordered to build Fort William H. Seward in Haines and station a garrison there. In typical fashion, Theodore Roosevelt was essentially daring the antagonists to, “come and take it.” The crisis passed when an international tribunal of arbitration settled the conflicting claims in favor of the United States. Before long, having no real purpose, the facility was decommissioned and largely abandoned. After many years the well-built and stately houses quartering officers and soldiers were restored as a historic site as was the large grassy parade ground. Many of them are bed and breakfast establishments today.
Haines had an adequate Alaska Marine Highway dock for the state ferries that transited up and down Lynn Canal but it was inconveniently far from downtown if you didn’t have a car. Haines residents after passing a weighty capital infrastructure bond had recently built an impressive new dock closer to town, which extended far enough out into the water to accommodate large cruise ships. The voters, civic leaders, businesses interests, and local tour operators gambled that the new dock would sway the cruise lines to make Haines a destination for their floating hotels and free-spending clientele.
Enjoying some coffee in the forward observation lounge I could see that Haines and its new dock were now coming into sight. I knew it would still be a while before ship slowed enough to align itself to dock. So I relaxed and enjoyed some more coffee.
MS Ryndam at dock in Haines, Alaska
Once the thrusters had nudged the Ryndam sideways to the concrete pier the deck crew and longshoremen went to work securing the lines. With the docking complete, the rush for the gangway commenced. My habit was usually to hold off going ashore for a while to avoid this ensuing stampede. In every port it was the same. A thundering herd of hundreds of passengers scrambling towards the gangway anxious to get ashore to catch their tours or buy the made-in-China genuine Alaska souvenirs stocked to the brim in the local shops.
While the paying customers emptied out of their staterooms and restaurants to head ashore, this was usually my signal to hit one of the perpetual buffets (sans lines) to grab a bite to eat, purloin an apple or a banana and some cookies to slip into my daypack and wait for the crowd to thin out.
Today however, I wanted to get ashore and extract as much out of this beautiful day as possible. Knowing better, I soon found myself in a cramped stairwell jostling and shoving my mountain bike ahead of me. I plowed down through the teeming mass of passengers all jockeying for access to the gangway on the lower deck. Crew were supposed to let passengers get off of the ship first. I could get in trouble for this stunt but such was my mania get off the ship with rest of the horde.
I had bought a few Jägermeisters (awful stuff) in the OB for the security officer checking everybody off at the gangway. I stepped up to the check station hoping he remembered me as I flashed my crew ID at him. He looked at me sideways, smirked and gestured towards shore. Haines here I come! I mounted my bike while still on the dock and let fly. I peddled towards town as I dodged and weaved through those who had disgorged from the ship ahead of me.
I liked Haines. I had been here before many years before. In 1980, Patti, the girls and me had driven our little brown Subaru 900 miles from Seward in the middle of winter to catch the Alaska ferry to Seattle (the southern terminus has been in Bellingham, Washington since 1989).
Haines reminded me a little of Seward and was about the same size in population at roughly 2000 people. Rustic and weathered, it had not yet transformed itself to accommodate the cruise trade as had Juneau and most garishly Ketchikan. Its simple store fronts, plain shops interspersed with the ubiquitous bars and taverns would no doubt soon be replaced by souvenir shops, espresso stands, fancy restaurants, taprooms and craft brew pubs if the town’s planners turn their hopes of being a cruise ship destination into reality. Nothing against Haines but I hope that doesn’t ever happen.
I had heard about a new wildlife center that had opened in Haines recently, the American Bald Eagle Foundation. I was curious to see what it was all about. It had come about as yet another local attempt to attract and “pluck’ the anticipated flood of visitors from the cruise ships.
I peddled the mile or so to the site of this attraction and parked my bike outside the large handsome log-style structure. I paid the admission fee and as I walked into the spacious lobby I was immediately disappointed, stuffed animals were displayed everywhere. Bald eagles, golden eagles, ospreys, and an assortment of hawks, and a ptarmigan (the Alaska State bird) all hung frozen in flight from wires bolted into the cedar ceiling beams. Along the walls were various dioramas. There were puffins, murres and other seabirds on fake rocky seascapes and equally fabricated forest scenes showing an arctic potpourri of caribou, moose, lynx and Alaska’s three bear species (polar, brown/grizzly, black) all lifelessly staring back at me with dull glass eyes.
But for a few other hapless humans who had been skinned (pun intended) out of ten bucks (no pun intended) there was not a living creature in the place except the buzzing black-flies on the inside of the large plate glass windows.
I had seen enough. I exited the depressing taxidermy exhibit just as two buses packed with cruise ship passengers pulled into the dirt parking lot in a cloud of dust. I wonder to this day how anybody could go all the way to Alaska and then pay to see stuffed wildlife. It seemed terribly ironic and not a little comical to me.
My brush with musty faux nature had taken the edge off of my enthusiasm and I needed that bike ride in the fresh air and sunlight more than ever. Nevertheless, I was so close to town and I decided to check that out first and save the bike trek for the afternoon. I was glad that I did.
I skipped the Hammer Museum (yes, a museum full of hammers-I swear!) and headed to the Sheldon Museum and Heritage Center.
I love small town museums. The docent volunteers are always friendly, extremely knowledgeable about the local history and are anxious to tell you all about it. As a historian I mean it when I say that they are my heroes.
I was not disappointed this time.
Sadly and not uncommonly I had the place to myself and the woman who was attending to visitors that day gushed with enthusiasm as she shared her stories about local history and interesting details of Tlingit native culture. It was charming and refreshing to see someone so unabashedly proud and willing to tell you about their hometown. No ambassador of goodwill ever represented a town to visitors more enthusiastically.
Getting ready to go on my way the docent noticed the Holland American Line logo on my ball cap and asked if I was from the ship. I told her that I was the ship’s naturalist. Excitedly she gave me a stack of rack cards all about the museum and asked me if I would distribute them onboard and maybe even encourage passengers to visit the museum. I assured her that I would and stuffed them into my day-back. She then reached into a box near the register of the tiny gift area and grabbed something. She walked over and handed me a rock about the size of a golf ball but it was much heavier. She said, “That is a piece of magnetite from the area and it is fairly rare. I hope it reminds you of your visit to Haines.” It frequently does as it sits on the bookshelf above my desk at school.
It was time to hit the trail I been itching for since I had left the ship.
From maps I had aboard I had plotted an adventure over to Mud Bay, a long shallow tidal inlet (thus the name) that roughly paralleled Lynn Canal. On the map it looked like a couple of easy miles. However, I soon discovered a ridge separated the two bodies of water, a very steep ridge. It was not so bad getting to the top of the paved road that wound down to the water. Frequently touching my rear brakes ever so lightly I coasted all the way to the shore of the bay. It was going to be a helluva pump back up that road. I’d worry about that later, right now I was ready to do some beach mountain biking.
At first, I found a stretch of hard black silt exposed by the low tide that was almost like riding on a sidewalk. With that wonderful funky scent of low tide filling my nostrils and the sun on my face I tooled along on that for a mile or so until it turned into course gravel mixed with small rocks.
It was still fairly easy going for another mile or two and then came the soft gray sand that had dried out during low tide. Soft sand was not good for biking, not even with big fat mountain bike tires. It soon felt like I was peddling with both front and back brakes clamped down. A few hundred more yards of this and my lungs started to ache from the exertion. A profusion of sweat was stinging my eyes and my T-shirt was completely soaked. My faithful pony finally stopped cold as if seized in a vice. I maintained balance for a few seconds and then let the bike tip over as I crashed harmlessly onto the soft warm sand. It felt nice to just lay where I fell until my lungs recovered a bit and I started to cool down.
I looked up from the beach and a few dozen feet away I spotted a huge flat boulder of smooth gray-black shale. A perfect spot to rest. I literally crawled on hands and knees in the sand and curled up on the massive rock. The surface was comfortably warm having absorbed the afternoon sun. Exhausted, I feel asleep instantly. It was probably one the best and most refreshing naps I have ever had.
And without a doubt the most surprising awakening.
Warm and cozy from the heat of the stone, I was stirred to consciousness by a shadow that cooled my face. I struggled to brush away the heavy fog of my nap. Without opening my eyes I sensed that something was moving around and that it was very close to me. What was that slight scratching noise on the rocks?
I cautiously opened an eye to find myself face to face with a large shiny black beak and two piecing coal black eyes. A raven. I stirred a bit and my feathered friend immediately hopped back a few birdy steps. But it didn’t go too far away. I don’t think it was willing to give up this new prize, not yet anyway. It still filled most of my view as I lay there on my side squinting up at it with one eye. When I slowly started to prop myself up it hopped back a few more feet keeping those little black beads firmly fixed on me the whole time.
That was when I noticed the whole gang. I slowly turned my head from side to side to see that I was surrounded by a dozen or so brooding black figures, none of them more than five or six feet away from where I lay. I finally straightened-up and they scooted away a little farther. I couldn’t help but laugh, which seemed to spook them, but only a little. They mostly remained at their stations, ready to execute whatever nefarious plan they had no doubt been hatching while I slept. I wasn’t quite sure what they had hoped to expect but I could guess.
I stood up and looked around at the dour Congress that had convened. They in turn all backed up a little more and stared right back at me. It was a standoff. After a solemn pause on the part of both parties I said to the ruffled gang, “Sorry, not today guys, not today.”
I gingerly reached into my pack, which immediately drew the attention of my new found friends. As I took out a handful of the cookies I had pilfered from the buffet, the gang in unison began to caw excitedly. I crumbled the goodies and cast them about. Distracted for a moment as they scrambled for the cookie bits, I grabbed an apple and after cutting it into small pieces on the rock with my pocket knife scattered the juicy bits among the famished tribe hopping around me.
Satisfied that my charity had soothed any disappointment over dashed plans, I tipped my ball cap and said my good byes. I pushed my bike out of the sand and headed back to the Ryndam.
It had been a very good day indeed...for all concerned