“Alaska! What cruise ship are you going on?”

“Well,” we’d say shyly, “we’re traveling by ferry.”

“Why?” they’d ask. 

“Well,” we’d reply slowly, “we think it will be, um, more interesting.”  

The Taku

We were stubborn enough to stick to our plan to travel through Alaska’s Inside Passage not on a floating luxury hotel, but by way of the ferries that the Alaskans and Canadians regularly use to get from one port to another. The fabled waterway was explored by the intrepid Captain Cook sailing on the Endeavor in 1778, but was well known to the energetic and skilled native people whose ancestors walked over the land bridge from Asia thousands of years earlier. 

Had we more time, we would have hopped a ferry in Bellingham, WA, just north of Seattle, for a summer-long, leisurely exploration of the coastline, heading further north, but stopping off at harbor towns like Sitka, Petersburg, Yakutat, Seward, Homer and Kodiak for a day or two or three or four, eventually reaching Dutch Harbor on the outermost reach of the chain of the Aleutian Islands. The Alaska Marine Highway stretches for 3, 500 miles and was recently named a National Scenic Byway. With a fleet of nine vessels, it links 33 port communities along the Pacific shore. A trip by ferry, starting or ending in the state of Washington, encompasses not only the southern coast of Alaska, but meanders in a leisurely fashion along Canada’s western shore in British Columbia, so you get to visit two countries for the price of one.

Instead, we flew to Juneau, the capital of our largest state and the location of the massive Mendenhall Glacier, to board the MV Taku at the Alaska Ferry Service terminal south of town. We watched cars, trucks, vans and recreational vehicles drive into the huge open bay to be secured on the lower deck as those of us who were “walk-ons” lined up to join the procession. The crew was busy directing traffic and waved us on to the stairs or the elevator to the upper decks where we checked in with the purser, who assigned us to our cabins. Not all passengers had booked cabins: Some were only on for a short way, planning to get off at Wrangell or Ketchikan later in the day. Others carried sleeping bags, prepared to camp out in the upper-deck solarium or snooze on the reclining chairs in the lounge. One family boarded in their pajamas, including the mom, each child clutching a pillow. They were obviously experienced ferry hands and opted for comfort over style in travel attire.

Murray D. Laurie

Our cabin was Spartan, with bunk-bed berths, deep shelves for stowing our stuff and a compact bathroom with a shower. “Outside” cabins, slightly more expensive, had large windows. We spent some time roaming up and down stairs and in and out of the lounges, checking out the dining room and bar, and braving the windy outer decks for a last look at Juneau as we headed south.  

As we were to be progressing for two days through the Tongass National Forest, we were treated to a series of nature programs courtesy of the United States Forest Service. Ranger Don Poling and his wife Dottie were spending their summer traveling north and south through Alaska’s Inland Passage, sharing their great fund of stories, nature lore, and practical advice on how to spot a whale and how to tell an Orca apart from a porpoise at a considerable distance. As we glided past glaciers, Don pointed out small icebergs floating along the surface of the water. At one point, Dottie had a number of the youngsters on board roaming all over the Taku on a scavenger hunt. 

We met kids on their way to a religious conference, a party of senior citizens from California, an attractive French woman who wiled away her time knitting socks, a boat builder from British Columbia hurrying home to celebrate his son’s birthday, a ballet teacher, retired seamen and a young woman who was spending her summer as a kayak tour guide, now on her way home to Vancouver Island to rest up for her next six-day trip into the wilderness. Even the crew members had time to pass the time of day with us as we made our way through the calm water. It was easy to fall into conversation with people; the leisurely pace of the Taku soon took over and we became, for a while, a small, friendly village. 

Yet there was plenty of quiet space to read or snooze or write in a journal. When the weather improved, walking around the deck and photographing the steep and densely forested shore, distant snow-topped crags, and the wake of the boat built up an appetite for the next meal call. Food was fresh, hearty and simple, served cafeteria style by a good-natured galley crew. The small gift shop opened from time to time with a stock of candy bars, post cards, topical books, and souvenirs.

Because we booked rather late in the season, we were not able to secure reservations to our final destination on the Alaska line, so we switched to the British Columbia Ferry service at Prince Rupert for the next leg of our trip. The recently refurbished Queen of the North was a rather more luxurious vessel than the Taku, noticeable in the décor of its lounges and dining room.  Like a movie star in an old flick, one could glide down the wide stairways with their curving art deco-style chromium banisters and lean reflectively against the deck railing, waiting for a phantom lover to appear.

Abandoning fantasy, we responded to the news that lunch was being served. We chose the cafeteria service, but a more elegant, up-scale buffet dining room was available to those who believe that sumptuous dining is an essential part of a cruise. The posse of portly folk from Germany and the tour group from California certainly thought so.            

There was time during the day for Scrabble games, gin rummy, a nap or a movie, promenades around the deck to admire the panorama of waterfalls cascading down cliffs dense with hemlock and spruce, and to attend nature talks provided on the open upper deck by a pair of young Canadian naturalists.      

The ferries stop all along the way, loading and unloading vehicles and passengers, and we regretted not having time to stay over in Wrangell for a river rafting trip up the mighty Stikine River and a visit to the historic Tribal House, surrounded by totem poles, or to pause in Petersburg, known for its Scandinavian folk art traditions. One of our fellow passengers highly recommended Sitka, the capital of Russian America in the 1800s, with its blend of Russian, Native and pioneer cultures. At most of the ports, arrangements can be made for sightseeing flights, fishing guides, kayak tours, camping expeditions or connections to inland attractions. 

We did get a two-day taste of Prince Rupert, a lovely port on the northern British Columbia coast with its striking museum constructed of massive logs to replicate the built-to-impress houses of the native people. The tradition of carving totem poles still flourishes and these towering images blend in Prince Rupert with relics of the British Empire – Gothic churches, prim Edwardian government buildings and flower-decked public parks.            

Those we met who were traveling by car or RV found the ferry service a welcome change from highway fatigue, an opportunity to relax and enjoy the marine wildlife and coastal scenery. Rugged campers and mountain climbers, worn down by weather and close encounters with Mother Nature, seemed to appreciate the simple comforts of the ferry service and a chance to catch up on sleep and hot meals.  

Ferry travel on the northwest Pacific coast is economical, flexible, adventuresome and addictive. We felt a real sense of triumph and satisfaction as the ferries of Alaska and British Columbia transformed us from tourists into travelers.    

Murray Laurie blends her three passions--travel, architecture, and history--in her books and articles. When she is not roaming the globe, she makes her home in Gainesville, Florida.