Icy Strait Point

The only day we were to anchor out and tender in was the day we went to Icy Strait Point. (I don't know why it's spelled s-t-r-a-i-t.  I know what strait means as far as maritime lingo goes but I don't know why a strait is called a strait when waterways are often not straight.  Why can't it just be called a passage. Who invented all of the convoluted grammar rules?) 

This is my view from the bike in the gym.  Your standard snowcapped gigantic mountains and pristine waterway.  Ho hum.  ;)

 

So, we were off to terra firma...
My dad was assigned as the Nicholas holder, for fear that his skinny little body would be blown away during the jaunt. 



Shawn, looking the fisherman part, and Summer.



This little fishing village doesn't have a dock that can accommodate cruise ships.  But, apparently, they have six cruise ships a week that come to anchor off shore and then ferry in the visitors.









This picture was taken at the dinghy dock.   You can't really see the size of our cruise ship or how close to shore the mammoth vessel was able to snug itself in.



The tender/dinghy was actually one of the life boats from just outside of our balcony. 

Icy Strait Point was previously a canning facility.  Now, it is set up as a museum with shops showcasing works by "Native" Alaskans and just "Alaskan made".  There is a difference.  I learned that in my shopping seminar.  "Alaskan made" is something that is made by any ol' person in Alaska.  "Native made" is something that is made someone who is a native.  Native being American Indian from Alaska or what we used to call Eskimo.

Summer and Nicholas wouldn't last a second working under those conditions.






After looking at some of the canning props and reading the factoids, we went over to inquire about the zipline.  The Icy Strait Zipline is advertised as the WORLD'S largest!  (I've never ridden a zipline, although we did used to string up some jacked up rope and pulley across the creek when we were kids.)  And if I'm going to ride a zipline, I might as well ride the world's largest, right?  Nicholas was ready to go too! 

Nicholas is my daredevil.  He's game to do just about any ride once.  Perhaps it's because he likes adding pins onto his lanyard for the Disney rides.  Perhaps it's because I peer pressure him into it.  Perhaps it's because he wants to act tough.  Anyway...he really wanted to ride this zipline.  But, in order to ride, you have to weigh at least 90 pounds.  Nicholas is THIRTY pounds away!  He was crushed.  And, I figured that I could ride a zipline at MOSI in Tampa and the wait was long and the actual time for the round trip of the ride was an hour and a half on top of that.  Nah.

So, after that got nixed, the kids and I made a bee line to the shore for "beachcombing".  I say "beachcombing" because the entire "beach" is just rocks.  There aren't even any bits that were small enough to qualify as gravel.  Most of the rocks were round and smooth and made for good skipping.  Except that I could not get my rock skipping mojo on.  The best I did was two.  That kind of doesn't even count!  (And I spent a zillion hours as a youngster honing my craft by  skipping shale into Lake Cumberland!)

We decided that we wanted to eat at a certain crab shack that was recommended by my parents' "butler".  He said that it was the best!  So, the kids and I proceeded to walk along the shore.  I set my alarm so that I would have enough time to walk in one direction, make the return trip, and still arrive at the crab shack as scheduled. 


This was primo bear country and we were ready for a little game of I-Spy.  But, this is as close as we came.  No real wild bears despite the warning on the beach that I "ignored".  (The sign was in the woods and I was walking around the water's edge, head down, looking for treasure.  Oops.)



Above Nicholas is the crab shack.



Rusty old fishing boat.  I wasn't sure if it was a prop or a real working vessel.


Nicholas.


Nicholas


S is for seaweed.  These giant kelp looking things were everywhere.  Since the water was so clear and this one was in such a nice shape, I snapped a pic.


My letter collection obsession is contagious.  Summer found this one in a rock!


Not to be outdone, Nicholas found an "Angry Bird"/"Grumpy Cat" rock.  I bashed out his eyes so that we could keep the rock and not be stopped by customs.  That was sad but those little barnacles didn't seem to mind making the ultimate sacrifice.  Or at least, they didn't put up a fight.


Petrified footprint?  Totally!  (Luckily, my kids believe me.)


They're so cute.


Lower case I in the rock.  How does that happen?


Arty shot:  Fail

We found a lot of cool rocks and a decent handful of sea glass.

Then, it was time for our crab shack extravaganza!  About $100 later, we had three bags of steamed crab:  Snow crab, Dungeness crab, King crab, crab chowder, crab salad, butter, sodas, napkins, and...

Not my picture.  http://images.travelpod.com/tripwow/photos/ta-00db-33ca-f6d4/the-crab-station-hoonah-united-states+1152_12968018091-tpfil02aw-32577.jpg

And this FINE crab eating utensil!  Ours was black but still this is about the greatest crab eating tool invented!  I even went back and asked the not very friendly waitress if I could have another.  Her response, "I put one in the bag."  Yeah, but we have four people eating crab.  With great reluctance she handed over three more.  Summer, my dad and I were chowing down on the crab.  It was good and we were making a serious dent in the heap of crab legs.  But Shawn had to go to the other restaurant to get burgers for Nicholas and my mom.  By the time he was able to join us, my dad had a little run-in with the aforementioned wonder tool. 

My dad actually stabbed the pointy claw end into the palm of his hand.  As if that wasn't enough of an inconvenience, he wouldn't stop bleeding.  My dad has "thin skin" and takes Coumadin which means that when he has even a slight little cut, it turns into a mass bloodletting.  From my days as a Hints from Heloise reader, I had remembered that tea bags can help clot blood.  So, I hightailed it to the coffee shop and snatched some tea bags.  He kept those pressed onto his palm for a couple of hours!

After lunch we split up again.  Summer and my folks took a little bus to Hoonah to visit that little town.  There, Summer and my mom had a "dog encounter" with a scruffy little guy who played fetch with a small rock.  Even the dogs are industrious 'round these parts!

Shawn, Nicholas, and I went for a "Forest Excursion".



Adorable little white wildflowers.



A rusty old thing.



Heart shaped leaves.



Lower case "h" in a tree root.


Tall trees!


And a tree hugger? 


We hung around in the town until the last ferry left...well, the second from the last ferry.  (It was reported that if you miss the last call for boarding because of your own negligence, you are to fly to the next port at your expense and then reboard.  If missing the last call is the fault of the cruise line, they will foot the bill. My stubborn stance wasnt the fault of the cruise line.)

But while waiting for the last stroke before the end of the ball, I wandered the shore some more.  Under the cannery row buildings, I found a letter J.

Typically, the best flotsam and jetsam is found at the tidal extremes. Since everyone walks the low tide lines, I gravitate towards the high water mark. Also, if it is harrowing to access the wrack, I'm there!  I figure that "I must make sacrifices for my art" and "the road less traveled" have suited me as mantras.   (My tombstone is going to be a string of one-liners and cliches.)

And a backwards letter S of string.  I swear the more I looked for letters the more I couldn't remember in which direction the letter is correct.

 

Selfie with the Millenium in the background.

 

 

 

And that was it.  Or was it?  What I neglected to mention at the beginning of this entry was that I used some very sharp and very pointy scissors to cut the little tag off of my new clutch style purse.  I wanted to use it today since there was a possible need for me to carry around my ID, my room key, my debit card, a map of the town, and lip gloss and I wasn't wearing my jeans with five pockets. So, I borrowed my dad's scissors, and cut the tag.  

(Stock photo)

But then I had this little spaz moment. I thought I was about to drop the purse or the scissors. When I grabbed the falling thing, (I honestly do not know what, if anything, fell.) I sliced/stabbed the pointy and razor sharp blade across my middle finger knuckle. Blood spewed out onto the floor, the white leather dining room chair in my parents' room, the white marble and tile of their bathroom...  The cut didn't hurt although it sure did produce a lot of blood in the less than five seconds it took for me to run to the bathroom and cover it with a tissue. 

I returned to my cabin for a bandaid. (Nicholas is a little obsessed with bandaids so I travel with a gallon ziplock bag about half filled with nearly every style, material, shape, and design that Bandaid and all other brands manufacture.)

No harm.  No foul. (Yet another tombstone quote.)  I toured Icy Strait like any normal person. 

But then, I could feel that rubber change purse* sensation when I moved. A blast of cold air would sometimes make its way through the bandage and I knew that I'd need a stitch. 

 

* In case you need a visual of the change purse: 

My dad and I both were seen by the ship's doctor. He got his palm glued and I got two stitches. 

And my dad and I are about the two most needle phobic people in the world. We've both become more tolerant of sticks as we've gotten older and had more needle experiences. But, I almost passed out!  Shawn had to come hold my hand while I was on the operating room table. (Thank you, Sposey!)

Also, the doctor was unaware of the tea bag blood clotting theory. In case you are  wondering about that too, from the Cleveland Clinic:  The tannic acid in tea helps healing blood clots to form (blood clots function similarly to a scab on an open wound). 

And that was our day!  No bears. But plenty of adventure.