Join SeaView editor David Simpson on his second journey down Memory Lane, this time in Alaska in 2008 on board Silver Shadow
Darryl, the Prince Harry lookalike, shouted “Hang On”, but before his words had even reach my ears the dogs had pulled away at the sledding equivalent of G-Force.
Nothing could have prepared me for the exhilaration that the next 45 minutes would bring.
My wife Lis and I had already had a breathtaking – and stomach-churning – helicopter flight across the Alaskan mountain tops to the Meldenhall Glacier. And we just about had enough time to compose ourselves after stepping back onto ice-covered terra firma before Darryl bounded forward to greet us.
Not that we could hear a thing amidst the noise of the whirling helicopter blades, which were whipping up a storm, and the excited howling of 300 sled dogs, a dozen of which were being harnessed up to give us the ride of our lives.
We had been told in advance that our next ride, although almost a hour-long, would seem like just ten minutes. He was right, but even if it had really bern just the ten minutes, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. As lifetime experiences go, this must be as good as it gets.
Nothing could have prepared me for the exhilaration of 45 minutes sledding with such powerful dogs
I took up what amounted to the anchorman brake position in our ‘four-man bob’ with Lis safely tucked up in a warm blanket in the front sled where our ‘cuddly’ Huskies were noisily straining at the bit. Hence the G-Force effect when Darry eventually set them loose.
He had to keep keeping his foot on the brake to curb the pulling power of the dogs, and I in turn had to quickly learn the art of braking with one foot and balancing with the other on the sled’s runner to prevent it crashing into the one in front. Fearful and fun all in one go.
As we hurtled along, with an eerie silence now surrounding us, we settled into a heavenly trance.
In fact we had been locked in some kind of trance ever since flying to Vancouver to board our ‘sea-sled’ bound for Alaska.
We had opted for a hopefully stress-free night at the Fairmont Waterfront just in case the notorious Terminal Five let us down leaving us with a last-minute search for something to wear, but all went surprisingly smoothly and BA landed us, and our baggage, with everything in tact.
The Fairmont in conveniently situated within a short stroll of the Canada Place cruise terminal, but even if this gets busy – and it does – then the sister Fairmont Vancouver is only a couple of hundred yards up the hill towards the city centre, and in fact is a more suitable option when you disembark as it gets you away from the general hubub of the next wave waiting to get on.
When the cruise lines put their ships into the north Pacific in 1990 as a safe have during the first Gulf War, the marvels of Alaskan cruising were discovered, and in the 20 years that have followed, its popularity, like cruising in general, has grown at a startling rate.
Now thousands flock by ship to the most northerly of America’s 50 states, helping to put tourism ahead of the fading salmon industry.
Which goes in some way to explain the fact that ours was not the only ship at Canada Place when our time came to board. In fact Silver Shadow looked like a salmon fishing trawler, comparatively speaking, against the three other new breed of mega-liners that towered over the harbour.
But, as they say, size isn’t everything, and our 28,000-ton vessel stood up to its reputation of offering one of the best cruise experiences to be had.
One by one we watched our three neighbours slip their ropes, sirens blaring, and exit Vancouver harbour, toasting their departure from our suite’s private balcony, champagne in hand and our suitcases already stowed away.
And when our steward asked if there was anything in particular – and I mean anything – we would like our complimentary mini-bar stocked with, I just knew we were on the right ship for my 60th birthday celebration.
The suite, with king size bed, flat screen TV, lounge area, walk-in wardrobe and bathroom, complete with his and her basins, was as good as a 5-star hotel room. And if you chose not step foot outside it, there was the option of 24-hour in-room dining from the full restaurant menu.
But there was little likelihood of that. The Restaurant, as it was simply named, was too good to miss. We were pampered by our Filipino waiter Jeffrey, and every night was like eating at Le Gavroche. We learned later that the alternatives – the Italian-styled Terraza and the gastronomique Champagne – were very bit as memorable.
Fortunately, the gymnasium offered all the gizmos necessary to keep the expanding waistline in check, although my dinner suit beginning to strain at the seams by the time of the third and final formal dining occasion on the ninth night.
And all the while we were threading our way through the breathtaking straits that make up the Inside Passage of America’s most northerly state.
Sailing up Tracy Arm to the Sawyer Glacier was another of our not-to-be-missed experiences
After a day at sea, giving us time to unwind and get to know the ship, the first port of call was Sitka. This gave us the opportunity to tick off another of those lifetime must-dos – whale spotting.
Our afternoon excursion explored the waters populated by seals and and sea lions, took us close to shore to see nesting bald eagles – the nest we saw was 20ft wide and just as deep – and finally a plume of spray alerted us to the presence of a single humpback whale feeding close to land.
We got the show we wanted, the whale arching his back before raising his giant tail majestically before plunging towards the depths to feed.
More plumes were spotted far in the distance by eagle-eyed scouts and our specially-designed fast-craft hurtled off in pursuit. We eventually found two whales, but they played hard to get and, with time running out, reluctantly we had to return to the town, where the rain had started to fall steadily.
Alaska gets its fair share of rain – 60 inches a year on average. In fact it rained so hard, and for so long, the day we were in Ketchikan – the average annual rainfall here is 162 inches … (so there is somewhere wetter than England) that another must-do tour, going in search of brown bears, was washed out, along with every other excursion that day … apart from salmon fishing.
And he following day at Prince Rupert, back on Canadian territory, we fared little better because low cloud prevented the boat planes from flying.
But most of the time the weather behaved itself. We were able to meander around the beautiful village of Haines – for once we were the only ship in town – in sunshine, and could understand why a film crew encamped there for a year to use it as the backdrop to the 1991 movie White Fang about a gold hunter – well, this is Gold Rush country – and a mixed dog-wolf he rescues from the hands of a man who mistreats him.
After a morning browsing, we headed off on a 45-minute coach tour that took us up-country where we togged up in waterproofs in preparation for the soaking from an eagle preserve and wildlife river adventure.
Quite a few people on board gave this tour a miss, believing it to be white water rafting which is a manic, white-knuckle ride down rapids.
But, after boarding our dinghy, having already exchanged glances with a bald-headed eagle that was prowling the riverbed for dead salmon, six of us glided downstream in about eight inches of water, piloted by Tony, a thirty-something teacher who had jacked in big city life to share his knowledge of all things Alaskan with those wanting to learn.
He did all the work .. we just sat and marvelled.
Which sums up the whole Silversea experience of Alaska.
- First published in the Mail 0n Sunday on 7 September, 2008