There was a peculiar relief that washed over me as my feet finally found solid ground after a night spent battling the relentless sway of a ship at sea. The firmness beneath my soles offered a strange comfort, a stark contrast to the perpetual motion of the waves. On the open water, I learned to be light on my feet, always anticipating the next lurch that might send me grasping for stability. But once back on shore, the stillness of the ground left me feeling strangely off-kilter, almost dizzy. Yet, in the wilderness of Alaska, surrounded by towering forest-wrapped mountains, any unease I had was quickly overshadowed by awe. The landscape sprawled out before me in breathtaking majesty, commanding my attention and admiration. However, amid the grandeur, a singular question persisted in my mind: What exactly does one do in a place like Alaska?

While friends of mine were busy packing swimwear and sunscreen for their summer trips, stocking caps and long-sleeved shirts found their way into my suitcase. It was July, but in Alaska, heat takes a backseat; temperatures rarely climb beyond the 70s. As I prepared for my journey, I embraced the notion that nature’s rules reign supreme in those wild lands. Boarding a plane bound for Vancouver marked the beginning of my adventure, and from there, I would transition to the Zuiderdam, a mighty cruise ship poised to traverse the rugged Alaskan coastline. Pit stops along the way promised opportunities to immerse myself in the untamed beauty that defines The Last Frontier. 

The first glimpse of the ship left me awestruck. Its sheer enormity defied belief; I marveled at how such a behemoth could navigate the waters with grace or even stay afloat, for that matter. As I drew closer, the Zuiderdam stood tall and proud, its 1,000-foot frame a testament to human engineering, which would soon be set against the backdrop of Alaska’s wild beauty. Others may liken these vessels to floating hotels, but to me, the Zuiderdam felt more like a bustling village at sea. Fifteen decks teeming with shops, eateries, and havens for relaxation offered a glimpse of luxury amidst the wilderness to come. Admittedly, the opulent accommodations came at the sacrifice of personal space, but in a place like Alaska, where the call of the wild beckons incessantly, a cozy cabin served as a mere sleeping spot in between adventures awaiting outside. As we weighed anchor and set our course northward, I stood on my balcony, bidding farewell to the sea lions that watched our departure. Excitement coursed through my veins as I pondered the mysteries that lay ahead. What wonders would the following week unveil in this land of immense potential? Only time would reveal the answers, and I awaited the journey with eager anticipation. 

As we cruised along the western coast of Canada, I was happy that my cabin faced the rugged landscape unfolding before me. Every passing moment offered a chance to guess whether I was still gazing upon the Canadian trees and beaches or if Alaska had stealthily emerged on the horizon without warning. Although I knew the return journey to Vancouver would lack the same picturesque vistas, I cherished the opportunity to soak in the beauty of the land. Days drifted by as we traversed the waters until a subtle shift in the shoreline caught my attention. The terrain grew steeper, the wilderness more feral, signaling our approach to the Last Frontier. With each passing mile, mountainous ridges adorned with lingering snow stubbornly clinging to winter’s grasp became a common sight. There was no mistaking it; we were now skirting the coast of Alaska. Despite my growing restlessness from days spent aboard the ship, the anticipation of our impending arrival in Juneau kept my spirits high. Yet, I couldn’t shake the uncertainty of what lay ahead in a place where even direct road access was a luxury. But such mysteries only fueled my curiosity, reminding me that the true adventure was just beginning in this remote and rugged corner of the world.

As the Zuiderdam navigated its way through the Gastineau Channel, that narrow ribbon of water that cleaves Douglas Island from the mainland where Juneau rests, I couldn’t help but observe the smaller fishing crafts meandering past us, venturing into the vastness of the sea in pursuit of their quarry. At first glance, Juneau may not strike an outsider as particularly remarkable. Its rugged, frontier-esque appearance, with buildings seemingly frozen in time since the days of the 1880s gold rush, may not inspire immediate reverence. Yet, flanked on both sides by the precipitous slopes of forested mountains, Juneau casts a spell that’s hard to resist. It’s as if Bob Ross himself took to his easel to craft this scene. In any other locale, Juneau might fade into obscurity, but against the backdrop of dense pine forests, tranquil blue waters, and mist-cloaked peaks, it emerges as one of the most captivating and unique places I’ve ever seen.

Upon setting foot in a new place, my instinct is always to explore, to soak in the local flavor and discover the hidden gems that define the area. In Juneau, with its rich history as the first European-American settlement in the newly acquired Alaskan territory, the allure of the unknown beckoned. What was there to do? What was there to see? Quickly, I found that the legacy of gold fever that once gripped the hearts of prospectors still lingers in the air, a testament to the enduring spirit of exploration and discovery. So, when I stumbled upon a group of fellow travelers from our ship, eagerly lining up to try their luck at gold panning in one of the shallow rivers feeding into the canal, I couldn’t resist the call to join them.

 Now, let me be honest—panning for gold in a frigid stream is no walk in the park. It’s a slow, methodical process that demands equal parts time and patience. But when that glimmer of gold catches your eye amidst the sediment, the rush of excitement is undeniable. For a fleeting moment, you entertain the possibility of striking it rich—until reality sets in, and you realize the modest size of your treasure trove. After a few hours spent ankle-deep in icy waters, I emerged with a small collection of gold flakes no larger than my thumbnail. Though its monetary value may have been meager, the sense of accomplishment I felt was immeasurable. Not everyone can boast of having panned for gold in the heart of Alaska, and for that, I count myself fortunate. As I glance at the vial of water containing those precious flakes resting on my desk, I’m reminded of that brief moment when I was a modern-day prospector, and I can’t help but feel a swell of pride.

Back aboard the Zuiderdam, as we bid farewell to Juneau and its twinkling lights slowly faded into the night, I found myself seated on my balcony, clutching the vial of gold flakes in my hand. Shaking it gently, I watched as the shimmering specks danced like snowflakes before settling back at the bottom. But just as I prepared to retire for the evening, an unexpected spectacle unfolded before my eyes. Bands of ethereal green and purple streaks illuminated the sky, painting it with hues borrowed from the very heavens above. The Northern Lights, with their majestic dance, wove a tapestry of wonder that left me spellbound. It was a display of cosmic beauty that defied description—a reminder of nature’s grandeur and its power to move the soul. Captivated by the celestial show, I couldn’t bring myself to reach for my camera; some moments are best savored with the naked eye, etched into memory forever. 

The following morning ushered us into the port of Skagway, a quaint town nestled within a narrow glaciated valley at the head of the Taiya Inlet. With only a thousand souls calling it home, Skagway exuded a sense of intimacy due to its modest size. Yet, as I disembarked and turned to face the imposing peaks of Face Mountain that framed the town, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of amazement. Nature, in all its majesty, loomed large over the landscape, a silent sentinel watching over the bustling activity below. Venturing into the heart of Skagway, I found myself initially at a loss for how to spend my day. Unlike Juneau, whose streets buzzed with the energy of eager tourists, Skagway seemed content to march to the beat of its own drum. Its rugged charm spoke of a bygone era, where time moved at its own pace and progress came slowly, if at all. The streets and buildings gave off an attitude as if they were saying, “this is what we are, take it or leave it.” Yet, just when I began to resign myself to a day of quiet contemplation, fate intervened in the form of a shuttle bus adorned with the promise of a unique experience: It read “Dog Sled Adventure” on the side. 

Memories of childhood dreams and tales of daring mushers surged to the forefront of my mind, and without hesitation, I embarked on a journey into the heart of the Alaskan wildlands. As the shuttle wound its way through the forest, our path intersected with that of a formidable grizzly, a stark reminder of the untamed wilderness that surrounded us. Yet, undeterred, we pressed on, arriving at a dog sled camp nestled amidst the trees. The instructors wasted no time in telling us what we needed to know, and began setting up the dogs’ harnesses and collars shortly thereafter. I was on a sled with an instructor standing behind me, and 11 hardy dogs in front of me, led by the lead dog Eddy. I think they could sense we were gearing up to set off and with each dog’s eager bark, anticipation mounted. Then suddenly, the man behind me said “Ready to go? Mush!” As the sled lurched forward, propelled by the sheer tenacity of its furry team, I felt the exhilaration of the chase course through my veins. The wind whipped against my face as we raced through the forest, the rhythmic panting of the dogs serving as our anthem. In that moment, I wasn’t merely a passenger—I was a part of a team, united by a common purpose and bound by a shared sense of determination.

After the adrenaline rush of the sled ride, I yearned for a quieter communion with nature. Leaving behind the bustle of Skagway, I embarked on a hike through the Taiya River estuary, where the landscape unfolded before me in all its splendor. Surrounded by towering peaks and pristine valleys, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. Yet, even in the tranquility of the natural world, the presence of Alaska’s wild inhabitants served as a reminder of the delicate balance that exists between man and nature. Grizzlies and moose were never far, but I would contend with them again to find the view I had that day in a heartbeat. 

As I journeyed back south aboard the Zuiderdam, reflections of my time in Alaska danced through my mind. In the face of nature’s untamed beauty, the question that had once plagued me—what does one do in Alaska?—seemed almost comical. For in this land of endless possibilities, every moment holds the promise of discovery and adventure. From panning for gold to racing through the wilderness on a dog sled, Alaska offers a playground for the adventurous spirit, where the call of the wild beckons to all comers. And so, as I gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean from my balcony, I realized that the answer to my question was simple: You do everything. You explore, you discover, and you embrace the wildness that calls to you from every corner of this magnificent land.