We live in Kuwait, so, naturally, we recently travelled to Alaska. Maybe not our first travel choice for while living in the Middle East, but when your husband’s cousin shares the fantastic news that she’s getting married to the love of her life in her hometown of Juneau, you book the flights, pack your bags, and 38 sleepless hours later, arrive at a sleepy airport pretty much exactly in the middle of the definition of nowhere.
Good news: I love nowhere. Nowhere is where extended family live. It’s where bald eagles perch on the lamplights on the *one* road that travels out to the airport. Where trash cans need special locks, downtown, to keep the bears from snacking in between meals. It’s where soft rain patters down nearly every day of the year but blissfully pauses so above-mentioned cousin can get married under blue skies in a meadow next to a river with snow-capped mountains offering their blessing in the background.
Juneau’s not exactly a secret. I jest when I say it’s nowhere (although it is only accessible by boat or plane). We spent six nights in town and saw possibly a dozen massive, nay, colossal, cruise ships arrive and depart over that time frame, each disgorging thousands upon thousands of tourists daily. We were lucky to be amongst the few tourists who had the luxury of being there for multiple days. We practically became regulars at Deckhand Daves Fish Tacos, prompting the guy who took the order to ask, upon recognizing us, “You locals?”
My hubby spent a memorable summer as a teen living with his aunt and uncle, babysitting the bride and her big brother, hiking Mt. Roberts and picking up some odd jobs here and there. It’s a special place to him. His most recent visit was to attend a memorial for his late uncle, who had passed away much too soon in 2011. This was my second trip: We had travelled with Wil’s parents and sister to see his cousin graduate from high school and complete his Eagle Scout project, nearly two decades ago.
For this trip, we kept a relaxed itinerary. We made the important pilgrimage out to Mendenhall Glacier, a 13-mile-long river of ice that is essentially in Juneau’s suburbs. Taking the time to trek out a bit farther than the visitor’s center, to Nugget Falls, means you leave behind at least some of the cruise ship crowds. No bears, but we did see a porcupine up in a tree. Fun fact: Porcupines spend a lot of time in trees. Not fun fact: There’s a whole lot less of the glacier than there used to be. It’s noticeably shrinking — between Aug. 30, 2021 and Aug. 18, 2022 alone it retreated more than 800 feet. My only other visit was incredibly recent, in the scale of nature, and I can see how much smaller it is.
We availed ourselves of the local museums, including the lovely little Juneau-Douglas City Museum, the Alaska State Museum, and the Sealaska Heritage Institute. Long before Juneau became a boom mining town in 1880, the land was populated for thousands of years by native peoples. Theirs is a rich and fascinating history with new chapters still emerging; roughly 10 per cent of the current population is Native American. Native culture is now beautifully celebrated in the city with a new Kootéeyaa Deiyí, a totem pole trail, by Tlingit, Haida and Tsimshian artists. A dozen of a planned 30 poles were raised in April 2023 along the Juneau waterfront. They are gorgeous and humbling to view.
We popped in and out of the many shops catering to the tourist crowds and enjoyed picking out a few souvenirs for ourselves. (How could we resist a magnet that says: Sleeping bags are burritos for bears.) A very friendly company driver shuttled us out to the Alaskan Brewery tasting room so we could sample some of Alaska’s finest brews. We cabled up to the top of Mt. Roberts so we could view Juneau from above and take a short hike for some breathtaking vistas.
And, of course, there was time with family. We had an impromptu visit with Wil’s step-uncle and aunt near a life-sized bronze whale sculpture named “Tahku” which led to lunch and catching-up. We ventured out in the rain in a catamaran with the happy couple and wedding guests to view, unusually, multiple humpback whale breaches. The orcas stayed coy, but we did get to see harbor seals lounging in great numbers on the shore. (My photos, taken from inside, aren’t awesome. But the memory is…) The wedding took place at a camp and we bunked up with extended family and their families.
The ceremony was jubilant. The guests trekked out on a freshly made path to a spot along the Eagle River. The groom arrived by kayak. The bride and her brother took the long path together through the meadow to meet the guests. A good friend of the couple performed the ceremony, which took place in front of a naturally sculpted massive driftwood, festooned with banners. We paraded back to the camp for live music, local beer, and a delicious dinner in the rustic lodge accompanied by heartfelt speeches. The love in the room was palpable.
I’ve spent seven of the last 17 years living abroad. For Wil, in that timeframe, he’s spent ten years or so abroad or away from home for work. With the Covid lockdown mixed in, too, we’ve spent a lot of time apart from our families. It makes us all the more grateful when our pocket family of three gets to spend time with family, extended, blended, in-law or blood. I love that our son now has at least a few Alaskan family memories for himself.
I wish the bride and groom a lifetime of lovely long Alaskan days; laughter and friends, music and stories, to light the dark nights; and may they know they are loved and cherished by family both near…and far.
susan dalzell 
You must be logged in to post a comment.