Letter to the Editor: Grateful for Alaska’s outstretched hand
JUNEAU EMPIRE The Voice of Alaska’s Capital Since 1912 Wednesday, July 30, 2025
From June 29 to July 10, my wife, along with two couples from college, and I traveled into Alaska. Twelve days out from our indescribable trip, I’m still suffering from chowder withdrawal.
Even though Mr. Moose didn’t appear on every corner, Alaska captured us. No matter if we were on a ship, train, bus or foot, the landscape was spectacular.
Our views were enhanced from the knowledge of exceptional guides who expressed their love and respect for this cherished land. Their devotion made us appreciate even more the stories about the courage of the original settlers and their respect for their heritage.
And while Denali was shy, I had ample opportunities to appreciate other snowcapped peaks, rolling rivers, cascading falls, deep forests, and the stunning blue ice of glaciers.
In Fairbanks, from so many angles, the Museum of the North really captured the spirit of Alaska and its people. It is my hope that the people of Alaska will never lose their loyalty or will to always protect this precious and priceless land.
After an early morning run along the Chena River, some of us stopped at the statue of Walter Harper. I loved the simple beauty of his outstretched hand, a hand up ready to help no matter the person or circumstances. In the short amount of time I have left in this weary old world, I hope I will become better at following Walter Harper’s heart by outstretching my hand.
Thanks Alaska for outstretching your hands to us.
Bill Pike
Author’s note: I was honored to have my Letter to the Editor published in the July 30, 2025 edition of the Juneau Times.
Saturday, May 10 was our transition day. We would be leaving San Francisco and exploring more of California.
Our day started with a disappointing breakfast and service at the hotel’s restaurant. Hampton Inn does breakfast better.
We checked out and made the short walk to rent the car.
This started well too. They couldn’t find the Commander’s original reservation. Once that was sorted out, the real excitement started—driving out of the city.
I only made one significant error in leaving the city, I missed the overlook stop for the Golden Gate Bridge.
From that miscue, we found our way into Tiburon. A pretty town on the bay. Here, we were to meet the Commander’s sister, Abby, husband, Art, Betsy’s niece, Ashley, husband Rob, and most importantly their precious daughter, Bridgette.
This would be the Commander’s first visit with Bridgette. She was excited.
Gradually, we all met in the designated parking lot to catch the ferry over to Angel’s Island.
The ferry ride to Angel Island is short and pretty. Views abound in every direction.
Angel Island Ferry (Photo Bill Pike)
Angel Island’s founding dates back to 1775 when the Spanish ship, San Carlos, entered San Francisco Bay.
If you make a trip to San Francisco, you must set aside time to visit Angel Island State Park. The beauty of the island and its impact on California and America are remarkable.
The island has been a “cattle ranch, U. S. Army post, from 1910-1940 the processing center for thousands of immigrants, and in World War II German and Japanese prisoners of war were held here.” (California State Parks)
Additionally, Angel Island was “a transition point for U.S. military personnel returning from the Pacific following World War II, the 50s and 60s it was the site of a Nike missile base, and today, two active Coast Guard stations make the island their home.” (California State Parks)
We opted to take a tram ride to assorted points around the island. This guided tour not only took us to remote points, but afforded us the opportunity to walk around at numerous stops. Many of the buildings from the island’s assorted uses are still in place. These snapshots into the past gave us a feel for how the immigration process worked. That important history combined with the island’s natural beauty makes quite a background for storytelling.
Assorted buildings Angel Island (Photo Bill Pike)
The shoreline is a mix of rolling hills filled with shrubs, trees, wildflowers, and rock. Most noticeable in the plant landscape is the Pride of Madeira (Echium candicans).
A stand out on the island (Photo Bill Pike)
We worked our way back to our entry point.
Soon the ferry had us back in Tiburon. Ashley and Rob led us to a waterfront restaurant, Sam’s, where we enjoyed a late lunch, and Bridgette continued to be a happy traveler.
It is always special to catch up with family, and Tiburon and Angel Island provided another pretty setting for a good visit. We said our goodbyes, and started our drive to Novato.
In Novato, we checked into our hotel. Then, we opted for some more steps as we took a short hike at the Buck Gulch Falls Trail, a part of the Ignacio Valley Open Space Preserve.
After the hike, we stopped at the HopMonk Tavern for dinner. This is basically a beer bar with live music. A very competent trio was playing, and I enjoyed a highly praised California beer, Pliny The Elder.
Our drive back to the hotel was quiet.
Tomorrow would bring another opportunity to explore a section of the California coast where we had never visited.
And that made me think more about Angel Island.
From its first Spanish explorers to the last immigrants, I wonder where they found their courage to leave their homelands and make this journey?
Even though we were headed to Key West today, I still went out fishing. This time next week, I’ll be back in Richmond. I will not be walking out in shorts, with a fishing rod, and casting out into a lagoon fed by The Gulf of Mexico.
Dan joined me for a few casts, and at some point, a blue heron snuck into the shallows by an old retaining wall.
My lefty pal (Photo Bill Pike)
Maybe that is the best thing about fishing—its not what you don’t catch, its about what you see while trying to catch fish.
The quiet heron (Photo Bill Pike)
I don’t recall when we departed for Key West, but I can tell you I was excited.
From Marathon Key to Key West is about fifty miles. We knew that traffic might slow us up from time to time, but I wasn’t really thinking about the clock. I was more curious as to how the Overseas Highway was going to link together with bridges and passages overland to drop us in Key West.
We made steady progress as we checked off the assorted Keys along the way, and before we knew it, we found a street parking spot in Key West.
No sooner had we parked, when we witnessed an accident with a motor scooter. Maybe a struggle with balance and a lack of experience contributed to the fall. The young lady impacted the most by the fall seemed reluctant to get back on the scooter. I don’t blame her.
After taking care of the parking fee, we organized, and worked to find a location to make our bladders happy.
Following that break, we headed to the Southernmost Point Buoy. This buoy documents that visitors are in the southernmost point in the continental United States.
We opted not to stay in the line for a photo. Butch captured a nice solo shot of the buoy to share with everyone, and with that visit done, we headed toward Ernest Hemingway’s house.
It has been a long, long time since I have read anything by Mr. Hemingway. I loved reading his work when I was in college.
I was hoping the tour of his Key West home would be better than the one we took a few summers ago. While visiting our oldest daughter and her family in Chicago, we toured the home were Hemingway was born in Oak Park, Illinois. That was a difficult tour to endure.
Today, we opted for a self-guided tour, and I think that worked well despite the large group of people touring the home and grounds.
I can only begin to imagine the untold stories on the grounds and from the interior of the house.
Lots of the famous six toe cats were around. I didn’t bother to count. But, it was easy to see that the cats are held in high esteem here. There is even a small cat hotel constructed for them.
Concise signage helps guests find their way with good information. Of course, you pick up bits of stories from overhearing a tour guide’s scripted account, or from a very knowledgeable guest who is a devoted fan of Mr. Hemingway.
On the grounds, the long saltwater swimming pool will catch your attention.
The pretty pool (Photo Bill Pike)
Inside, every room is a story. I can imagine hearing the sound of the typewriter keys clacking away as Mr. Hemingway wrote in the easy pace of a Key West day.
Typewriter on the table (Photo Bill Pike)
Eventually, our curiosity was satisfied, and we regrouped in a small garden near the entrance.
From the Hemingway House, we worked our way to Duval Street. Looking for lunch, we quickly chose Old Town Tavern and Beer Garden. We sat at a nice table on the porch. That gave us the opportunity to chat and watch the people traffic on Duval Street.
We had an exceptional waiter who offered guidance with the lunch menu, but who also was curious about our trip.
After lunch, we continued exploring Duval Street and its shops. Our timing was good as we worked our way to the Harry S. Truman Little White House. One of the afternoon tours was about to start, so we quickly purchased our tickets.
(Photo Bill Pike)
Our tour guide was perfect. He knew how to use this allotted time efficiently. The presentation throughout the house was a blend of interesting history, good back stories, and humor. Additionally, the character of the house captures the era of Truman’s service to America, and like Hemingway’s home, every room had a story.
There was no better back story than the detailed research that revealed how the editors of the Chicago Daily Tribune published the infamous headline—Dewey Defeats Truman.
In what would become a post-World War II presidency for Mr. Truman, he accomplished a lot. One of the most interesting to me were two executive orders—9980 and 9981. These orders desegregated the federal workforce and the armed forces. Sad to me that America continues to struggle with skin color today.
If you are ever in Key West, I would make the commitment to tour The Little White House. It is a snapshot into the past, but filled with opportunities to learn about Mr. Truman.
From here, Butch and I walked back to retrieve the car. The rest of the group ambled toward Duval Street.
Once we reconnected, we hit the stage of the afternoon where we needed to be refreshed. Sloppy Joe’s at the corner of Duval and Greene was our destination to be restored.
This storied bar is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. We ordered our beverages, and surprise, I didn’t order a beer. I opted for a Mojito. With its origins in Cuba, the drink features rum, lime juice, simple syrup, and fresh mint. I’ll leave it to you to sort out the Hemingway myths about this tropical drink.
Inside Sloppy Joe’s (Photo Bill Pike)
Along with people watching, there is quite a bit to take in around the bar. Artifacts that are a part of the bar’s storied history are still on display.
While we were enjoying ourselves, I remember a couple of times a bell being rung at the bar. The bell comes from a Coast Guard cutter that is no longer in service. The barkeeper rings the bell to signal that a member of the waitstaff has received a large tip.
If you want a piece of Sloppy Joe’s to take back home, a gift shop with all of the usual suspects is available. For my gift, I’ll settle for the memory of visiting Sloppy Joe’s with our treasured friends. And, I’ll wonder if Mr. Hemingway’s ghost ever sneaks in for a Mojito.
After Sloppy Joe’s our focus was getting to Mallory Square.
Somehow securing a parking space was hassle free. For a bit of time, we roamed in and out of shops. The shop owners were hoping we wandering tourist might boost their income for the day.
Mallory Square is famous for its waterfront sunsets. While waiting for the sun to put on its unpredictable show of colors, there is a variety of entertainment taking place.
I was interested in one young man whose solo show reminded me of our famous Richmond, Virginia performer, Jonathan The Juggler.
This afternoon, I think the performer was Jase The Juggler, a native of Key West. His performance including juggling an assortment of items while at the top of a unicycle, and even his patter with the audience, reminded me of my friend, Jonathan, in Richmond.
Jonathan Austin knockoff (Photo Bill Pike)
Well, the sunset arrived, and it didn’t disappoint us.
The setting sun (Photo Betsy Pike)
When it was tucked away for the night into the sea, we retraced our steps through the crowd to the car. Our navigation devices wove us out of Key West, and soon we were back on the Overseas Highway driving toward Marathon Key.
With darkness upon us, Butch safely drove us into Marathon. Once back, we ate at an unremarkable restaurant. At that point, we were ready for the comfort of our Tranquility Bay condo and the opportunity to collapse.
We packed a lot into our day.
We were in constant motion, but I think that movement makes a good day for a tourist.
We saw a lot, and learned even more from these experiences.
And there is part of me that would like to return to Key West.
I know we walked by many pretty homes. If nothing else, I would simply like to gander at them more closely, but as a polite tourist.
From this photo of a driveway gate, I quickly learned what could happen to overly intrusive tourists. Year round Key West residents must develop a tolerance for sightseers.
Still, I appreciated the humor found in this signage.
(Photo Bill Pike)
As I climb the stairs toward my bed, I’m thankful for this opportunity to be on a “fishing” expedition with our friends.
Days like today confirm that enduring friendships are better than catching a fish.