I was thankful for the deep sleep that kept me from feeling or hearing the ship’s silent docking in Whittier.
This morning, we worked our way to the busy Lido dining room. I think everyone had the same idea—grab breakfast, woof it down, and hustle back to recheck our room.
Took a few minutes, but we found a table. Worked our way through the assorted food stations, and made our breakfast choices. Back at the table, Butch and Marian found us, and we had breakfast with them.
As we ate, we compared our prep notes for leaving the ship, or as the cruise director from Holland America likes to say—disembarkation.
After breakfast, we quickly worked our way back to the room. There we made a final check to ensure we were not leaving anything behind. This included rechecking our backpacks to make sure that everything we needed for today was scrunched into place.
When our letter of the alphabet was called, we worked our way down to the gangplank for departure. A few raindrops were sprinkling down. Most of the short walk to where our train was waiting was covered.
Once aboard the train, we received an orientation about what to expect during the two hour and thirty minute ride. The train had large windows and a clear glass roof.
All along the route, employees described where we were and what we were viewing. Early on, we saw two moose grazing. Narrow waterfalls appeared in some spots.
The ride became interesting when the train arrived at the Anton Anderson Memorial Tunnel.
According to the City of Whittier, this tunnel is 2.5 miles in length making it the longest highway tunnel in America.
The tunnel has some additional unique qualities—the tunnel is one way. It is used by cars and trains. The road bed is designed to allow cars to ride over the train tracks.
Two more distinctions for the tunnel, it is designed to withstand minus 40 degree Fahrenheit temperatures and 150 mph winds.
This single lane traffic with an alternating schedule saved taxpayers millions by not having to construct a second tunnel.
As the train continues to push toward Anchorage, we can see Cook Inlet. Train personnel tell us about the dangerous mudflats at low tide.
Sadly, people have lost their lives in the mudflats. The mud is like a quicksand. That mud will not let a person go. When the cold water tide returns, you know what happens.
We make it to Anchorage. A shuttle bus takes us into the city. A section of the civic center is used as a staging area by Holland America.
We experience a bit of disorganization, but everything works out. We were able to deposit our backpacks in a secure area and from there we walked to the 49th Brewery.
This is a huge facility with a large crowd already in place for lunch. It took us a while to be seated. The Commander and I were crunched for time as we had a 2 p.m. trolley tour of Anchorage booked.
When our lunch arrived, we ate quickly. With a faster pace, we walked toward the meeting point for the tour. Remarkably, we arrived on time.
The tour was good. We saw a lot. A knowledgeable tour guide provided good local stories about fishing for salmon, the devastation and tragedies from the 1964 earthquake, seaplanes, and an assortment of facts about moose and bears.
After the tour, I returned to take a photo of the Anchorage Log Cabin Visitor Information Center. The cabin has a sod roof and is surrounded by stunning flowers.
Additionally, I took a photo of a blue bear statue. Apparently, numerous bear statues are located around Anchorage.
We walked back to the civic center, grabbed our backpacks, and made the short walk to check into the Captain Cook Hotel.
Took the elevator up to our room, oriented and organized ourselves, and reconnected with our pals.
With our friends, we worked to find a restaurant for dinner. There were multiple restaurants close to the hotel, but cruise shippers like us were already in lines waiting to be seated. Eventually, we found a nice place and settled in for our meal.
After dinner, our group made plans for breakfast and our early morning train departure to Denali.
From our hotel room window, we had a nice view overlooking a section of Anchorage. However, I will confess, I miss my nightly view from the porch outside our room on the cruise ship.
Tonight, there will be no watching the ripple of the water from the movement of the ship, no snow capped mountains beyond the shoreline, and no sinking orange light as a setting sun slips behind charcoal clouds.
might be baloney 