In May/June 2023, Jill and I toured Alaska by land and by sea. We traveled from Fairbanks to Whittier by motor coach and train and then sailed from Whittier to Vancouver aboard the Majestic Princess. We had a blast!
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our Cruisetour.
This story, part of a series, is about our riverboat cruise along the Chena River on board the Discovery III.
Click HERE to read a short introduction to our Cruisetour.
This story, part of a series, is about our riverboat cruise along the Chena River on board the Discovery III.
Fairbanks and Denali National Park, Alaska (Tuesday, May 30, 2023) I opened one eye and glanced at my watch. It was five a.m. I turned my head to the right, towards the bed that Jill slept in. Except she wasn’t asleep. Instead, Jill was propped up on a few pillows, her cell phone in hand. I couldn’t be sure if she was scrolling through emails…or playing Wordle.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked.
“Who can sleep in daylight,” she replied. I detected a bit of irritation in her voice.
As I wrote in On the Banks of the Chena River, there were twenty hours of daylight in Fairbanks, a city long known as ‘the Land of the Midnight Sun,’ from late April to late August. The sun rose at 3:38 that morning and would not set until a minute past midnight...less than four hours of darkness.
Dang!
“I think I can,” I answered as I dove under my pillow, which proved to be an effective means to mask the first rays of the morning sun bathed our room with light.
Jill was dressed and ready for breakfast when I woke two hours later.
“You go ahead,” I said. “I’m still full from last night’s dinner.”
I showered, dressed, packed – we would say goodbye to Fairbanks that afternoon – and headed to Seasons Gift Shop and Coffee House for a light breakfast.
As I waited in line, I tapped the screen on my phone a couple of times to open a weather app. At that moment, the sky was overcast, the temperature was forty-six degrees, and there was a slight breeze from the southwest.
The forecast? Fifty-one degrees with a fifty to sixty percent possibility of rain throughout the day.
Layers, water-repellent jacket, umbrella, I thought. Check!
When I stepped up to the counter, I ordered a strawberry, granola, and yogurt parfait and a large cup of freshly brewed ‘wake-up’ coffee.
This’ll keep me ‘til lunch.
(And it did.)
I looked out the window.
No rain yet. Perfect!
I enjoyed my breakfast at a table on the terraced deck, with a view of the Chena River. It was a serene moment ahead of an otherwise active day.
About 8:30, my phone ‘pinged.’ It was a text from Jill. “Where are you?" I read. "We need to be in the lobby in 20 minutes and on board the bus at 9.”
“I’ll see you in a few,” I shot back.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked.
“Who can sleep in daylight,” she replied. I detected a bit of irritation in her voice.
As I wrote in On the Banks of the Chena River, there were twenty hours of daylight in Fairbanks, a city long known as ‘the Land of the Midnight Sun,’ from late April to late August. The sun rose at 3:38 that morning and would not set until a minute past midnight...less than four hours of darkness.
Dang!
“I think I can,” I answered as I dove under my pillow, which proved to be an effective means to mask the first rays of the morning sun bathed our room with light.
Jill was dressed and ready for breakfast when I woke two hours later.
“You go ahead,” I said. “I’m still full from last night’s dinner.”
I showered, dressed, packed – we would say goodbye to Fairbanks that afternoon – and headed to Seasons Gift Shop and Coffee House for a light breakfast.
As I waited in line, I tapped the screen on my phone a couple of times to open a weather app. At that moment, the sky was overcast, the temperature was forty-six degrees, and there was a slight breeze from the southwest.
The forecast? Fifty-one degrees with a fifty to sixty percent possibility of rain throughout the day.
Layers, water-repellent jacket, umbrella, I thought. Check!
When I stepped up to the counter, I ordered a strawberry, granola, and yogurt parfait and a large cup of freshly brewed ‘wake-up’ coffee.
This’ll keep me ‘til lunch.
(And it did.)
I looked out the window.
No rain yet. Perfect!
I enjoyed my breakfast at a table on the terraced deck, with a view of the Chena River. It was a serene moment ahead of an otherwise active day.
About 8:30, my phone ‘pinged.’ It was a text from Jill. “Where are you?" I read. "We need to be in the lobby in 20 minutes and on board the bus at 9.”
“I’ll see you in a few,” I shot back.
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One of the niceties of being on a press tour – and there were many – was that the members of the press and their guests traveled on a private motor coach for most of the land tour. There was plenty of room for thirteen people – eleven journalists and their guests, our tour guide (Carlos), and our Princess host (Briana) to spread out. On a sixty-passenger bus, EVERYONE had a window seat - or two, if they wanted!
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“Folks, we have a short ride – no more than ten minutes – to Steamboat Landing,” Carlos said.
Steamboat Landing was located southwest of the lodge, just past a large bend in the Chena River. If you looked at the river from above – or on a map, as I did that morning – it appeared to be a snake that rolled and twisted as it made its way through Fairbanks.
Steamboat Landing was located southwest of the lodge, just past a large bend in the Chena River. If you looked at the river from above – or on a map, as I did that morning – it appeared to be a snake that rolled and twisted as it made its way through Fairbanks.
Big wheel keep on turnin’, Proud Mary keep on burnin’
We’re rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river
~ Lyrics from Proud Mary
We’re rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river
~ Lyrics from Proud Mary
Yep, you guessed it. We were about to board a paddlewheel riverboat. Except, it wasn’t the Proud Mary. Rather, it was Discovery III, a sternwheeler – a riverboat with one paddlewheel at its stern – like the ones that, for decades, ‘hauled passengers and freight, linked distant communities and helped build new ones.’
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Your three-hour tour will take you into the heart of Alaska and introduce you to a family who has made the rivers of Alaska their way of life for five generations.
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“Look, dad, there’s a trading post,” Jill said as we got off the bus. And then she added, with a wink of her eye, “I bet it has lots of souvenirs.”
"I'm sure it does, but we only have time for a selfie because people are lining up to board the boat. Let’s do that, too, and shop for souvenirs later.” |
And that was what we did.
Discovery III was built in 1987, the third of three ‘Discovery’ riverboats operated by Riverboat Discovery, a family-owned tour company founded in 1950. Discovery III has four decks – three with indoor seating and a top deck with open-air seating.
I checked my watch as the line of passengers began to move. It was a quarter to ten.
I checked my watch as the line of passengers began to move. It was a quarter to ten.
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“Dad, I read that the best views are from the port side, and that the lower two decks provide a more stable ride.”
“Lead on,” I said...and she did. |
We grabbed a couple of port-side chairs on the second deck near the bow. As I glanced at other passengers, I spotted a few of the people from the press tour and waved. They smiled and waved back.
For all you sailors, here’s the ‘tale of the tape’ on Discovery III…
Dimensions: 280 tons gross weight, 34-foot beam, 156-foot overall length, 30-foot draft
Sternwheel: 20-foot diameter with 20 paddles turned by two diesel engines
Speed: Rated at 13-miles-per-hour, just a few miles slower than the fastest riverboats that once raced on the Mississippi River
Dimensions: 280 tons gross weight, 34-foot beam, 156-foot overall length, 30-foot draft
Sternwheel: 20-foot diameter with 20 paddles turned by two diesel engines
Speed: Rated at 13-miles-per-hour, just a few miles slower than the fastest riverboats that once raced on the Mississippi River
“We should be shoving off soon,” I said to Jill.
Tick tock went the clock. And then…
There was one long blast from the ship’s horn, the signal that we were underway. It was 10:00 a.m. sharp.
Right on time, I thought.
The boat slowly pulled away from the dock and, as it did, the captain turned the ship’s wheel to point the bow downriver.
I gazed out the window. The water was calm, with nary a ripple on the surface. It was the start of a peaceful cruise.
“Well, no need for me to wear these sea bands,” Jill said with a smile, as she took the acupressure bands from her wrists and slipped them into her purse.
Our tour was fully narrated by a young man, Skylar, who worked on board when he wasn’t teaching high school science. He was a walking encyclopedia of information with a well-rehearsed presentation!
“Folks, if we get in trouble on the water, you’ll find a lifejacket below your seat. “But don’t worry,” Skylar said. “If we have to abandon ship, the water is only four to five feet deep…so most of you will be able to stand with your head above the surface.”
Ba-dum-ching!
“Discovery III is owned by the Binkley family. You may have seen a memorial as you walked to the dock.”
Tick tock went the clock. And then…
There was one long blast from the ship’s horn, the signal that we were underway. It was 10:00 a.m. sharp.
Right on time, I thought.
The boat slowly pulled away from the dock and, as it did, the captain turned the ship’s wheel to point the bow downriver.
I gazed out the window. The water was calm, with nary a ripple on the surface. It was the start of a peaceful cruise.
“Well, no need for me to wear these sea bands,” Jill said with a smile, as she took the acupressure bands from her wrists and slipped them into her purse.
Our tour was fully narrated by a young man, Skylar, who worked on board when he wasn’t teaching high school science. He was a walking encyclopedia of information with a well-rehearsed presentation!
“Folks, if we get in trouble on the water, you’ll find a lifejacket below your seat. “But don’t worry,” Skylar said. “If we have to abandon ship, the water is only four to five feet deep…so most of you will be able to stand with your head above the surface.”
Ba-dum-ching!
“Discovery III is owned by the Binkley family. You may have seen a memorial as you walked to the dock.”
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We continue to be inspired by his spirit of adventure, warm laugh, and love of life. His hand will always be at the helm of the Riverboat Discovery.
“That memorial,” he continued, “was erected in honor of Captain Jim Binkley Sr., the patriarch of the Binkley family. He was born in Wrangell, Alaska in 1920.”
I jotted down notes as Skylar talked. “His father, Charles Binkley, was a respected boat-builder and river boat pilot, so it was no surprise when Jim followed in his footsteps. |
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“In the 1940s, Jim was the captain of freight vessels that brought supplies to miners and native villages on the Yukon and Tanana Rivers. The freight business changed near the end of the decade, though, with more freight delivered by rail and air. So, Jim pivoted. He and his wife, Mary, started a river excursion business right here in Fairbanks in 1950.
“Their first boat, which they purchased from an Episcopal church, carried 25 passengers. A few years later, in 1955, they built the 150-passenger Discovery. Discovery II was completed in 1971, and Discovery III was placed in service in 1987.”
Skylar also told us that the Binkleys own Gold Dredge 8, which I toured last year when Jill and I were in Fairbanks. On that outing I learned about gold mining on the river and panned for gold.
Throughout the cruise, Skylar rotated from deck to deck so that everyone had a chance to see and interact with him. When he wasn’t on our deck, we heard his voice over the loudspeaker.
I loved the information that Skylar shared, but I also enjoyed the frequent quiet periods when I could gaze out the window, lost in my thoughts as I eyed the ever-changing scenery along the bank of the river.
We cruised at a leisurely pace. It can’t be more than five miles per hour, I thought…although it was probably a bit faster.
IT WAS SOOOOO RELAXING!
From the loudspeaker, I heard Skylar answer a question someone had asked.
“Their first boat, which they purchased from an Episcopal church, carried 25 passengers. A few years later, in 1955, they built the 150-passenger Discovery. Discovery II was completed in 1971, and Discovery III was placed in service in 1987.”
Skylar also told us that the Binkleys own Gold Dredge 8, which I toured last year when Jill and I were in Fairbanks. On that outing I learned about gold mining on the river and panned for gold.
Throughout the cruise, Skylar rotated from deck to deck so that everyone had a chance to see and interact with him. When he wasn’t on our deck, we heard his voice over the loudspeaker.
I loved the information that Skylar shared, but I also enjoyed the frequent quiet periods when I could gaze out the window, lost in my thoughts as I eyed the ever-changing scenery along the bank of the river.
We cruised at a leisurely pace. It can’t be more than five miles per hour, I thought…although it was probably a bit faster.
IT WAS SOOOOO RELAXING!
From the loudspeaker, I heard Skylar answer a question someone had asked.
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“The price of the homes you see run the gamut,” he said. “Some you can buy on the cheap, but others will set you back three-quarters of a million dollars or more.”
There were a few hovels, but many of the home were larger, well-built, and architecturally significant. |
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Skylar pointed to a modern log cabin and said, “That cabin is owned by Jack McManus. The blue sign to the right of it says, ‘American by birth, Alaskan by choice.’”
That evening, I Googled McManus. Who is he? I wondered. |
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A I found an article from March 2016. The headline was, ‘Legendary Madison lawyer still holding court at 87.’ The journalist reported that Jack McManus – a ‘pilot and provocateur, and adventurer and anti-authoritarian’ – was going back to Alaska after wintering in Madison, Wisconsin. ‘I’m a Celt,’ McManus told the reporter. ‘We travel with the seasons.’
Great line, right?!
A few miles downriver from Steamboat Landing, the captain slowed Discovery III and brought it to a stop near the port-side bank. Over the loudspeaker, Skylar announced that we had arrived at Trail Breaker Kennel.
The dominant features of the property were a large building built in the style of a log cabin and a fenced enclosure with many dog houses. There were a handful of people on the grassy expense.
Great line, right?!
A few miles downriver from Steamboat Landing, the captain slowed Discovery III and brought it to a stop near the port-side bank. Over the loudspeaker, Skylar announced that we had arrived at Trail Breaker Kennel.
The dominant features of the property were a large building built in the style of a log cabin and a fenced enclosure with many dog houses. There were a handful of people on the grassy expense.
I saw – and heard – dogs, including some that were harnessed to a sled.
Oh boy, I thought, we’re about to watch a sled dog demonstration.
Yes, we were, but first…
Skylar began, “Trail Breaker Kennel is owned and operated by Dave Monson.”
Okay, I thought. I wonder if he's a legend, like Jack McManus.
And as if on cue, Skylar said, “Dave has participated in many sled races over the years. His most notable win was the 1,000-mile Yukon Quest in 1988.”
So, it seems that he is a bit of a legend, I inferred from Skylar’s comments.
Oh boy, I thought, we’re about to watch a sled dog demonstration.
Yes, we were, but first…
Skylar began, “Trail Breaker Kennel is owned and operated by Dave Monson.”
Okay, I thought. I wonder if he's a legend, like Jack McManus.
And as if on cue, Skylar said, “Dave has participated in many sled races over the years. His most notable win was the 1,000-mile Yukon Quest in 1988.”
So, it seems that he is a bit of a legend, I inferred from Skylar’s comments.
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I first got involved in the Iditarod in 1980. Joe Reddington (the ‘Father of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race’) said to me, ‘I know you don’t have any money, but I’ll give you a team of dogs,’ and he did. ‘I’m not going to teach you anything, you’re going to have to find out on your own.’
The first time I ever ran a dog team, we went down this hill, got to the bottom, every dog got into a big fight. I didn’t know what to do, (but) I got them going back up the hill, and that was my introduction. I was hooked. |
~ Interview with Dave Monson on faces.iditarod.com
And then Skylar added, “His wife was Susan Butcher, a four-time Iditarod champion. Susan, who passed away in 2006, also led the only climbing party to conquer Mount Denali by dog team.”
Well, hers was a name I WAS familiar with...enough to know that she was a legend.
“In 1988, Susan and Dave won every race they entered.”
Yep, Dave was a legend, too!
And with that, Skylar turned the mic over to Dave…figuratively, of course, as Dave stood atop the riverbank. He wore a mic, and his voice came over the loudspeaker. I scribbled notes as he talked.
“Susan and I opened Trail Breaker Kennel in 1976. We shared a love for dogs and for racing.
“We provide tours and sled rides for visitors, but our core business is training huskies to race. We work upwards of twelve hours a day and run fifty to one hundred miles a day with different teams.
“I consider myself lucky because I look forward to work every day. And because I get to work with our daughters, Tekla and Chisana. Together, we continue Susan’s legacy of raising and training sled dogs.”
Dave pointed to his left, where a handler worked with husky pups on an obstacle course made of logs.
“She’s training those pups to follow simple commands – to go up and over the logs. At the same time she is teaching them to be fearless, because every sled dog will encounter obstacles during a long-distance race.”
Dave shared more information about huskies and racing, and then said, “Would you like to see a demonstration?”
I knew it was a rhetorical question (but quietly said, “Yes!”).
There was a loud clamor when Dave moved toward the sled. It was the dogs. They were yipping, yapping, and jumping!
Well, hers was a name I WAS familiar with...enough to know that she was a legend.
“In 1988, Susan and Dave won every race they entered.”
Yep, Dave was a legend, too!
And with that, Skylar turned the mic over to Dave…figuratively, of course, as Dave stood atop the riverbank. He wore a mic, and his voice came over the loudspeaker. I scribbled notes as he talked.
“Susan and I opened Trail Breaker Kennel in 1976. We shared a love for dogs and for racing.
“We provide tours and sled rides for visitors, but our core business is training huskies to race. We work upwards of twelve hours a day and run fifty to one hundred miles a day with different teams.
“I consider myself lucky because I look forward to work every day. And because I get to work with our daughters, Tekla and Chisana. Together, we continue Susan’s legacy of raising and training sled dogs.”
Dave pointed to his left, where a handler worked with husky pups on an obstacle course made of logs.
“She’s training those pups to follow simple commands – to go up and over the logs. At the same time she is teaching them to be fearless, because every sled dog will encounter obstacles during a long-distance race.”
Dave shared more information about huskies and racing, and then said, “Would you like to see a demonstration?”
I knew it was a rhetorical question (but quietly said, “Yes!”).
There was a loud clamor when Dave moved toward the sled. It was the dogs. They were yipping, yapping, and jumping!
SO MUCH ENERGY
They were anxious to pull that sled, which was on wheels and not on blades.
“These dogs live for this,” said Dave as he mounted the sled. “They will run at an average of twenty miles per hour over shorter distances and can run upwards of 15 miles per hour over longer distances. We are about to start a short distance run.”
I expected to hear Dave yell ‘Mush!’ After all, he was a ‘musher,’ right?
Well, he was, but he didn’t yell ‘mush.’
“We don’t say ‘mush,’” I heard Dave say over the loudspeaker. “Instead, we say, “Let’s go!” And with that, the team shot forward and was quickly out of sight.
Dave and the dogs followed a snaking path – much like a road course in a car race – around the grounds at the kennel.
“I see them!” Jill exclaimed. “There.” She pointed, but by the time I looked, they were gone.
“There,” she said again a minute later. This time I spotted them. But in a flash, they were obscured by a small stand of trees.
Four or five minutes later, the dogs and Dave (with the sled) were back where they started. The handlers (there were several) released each dog from the harness, and they (the dogs!) ran down the bank and into the river – their way of cooling off after their workout.
Jill and I saw a dog sled demo last year when we were in Denali National Park. Believe me when I tell you – ‘seen one, seen them all’ does not apply to dog sledding. It was a hoot and a treat to watch the dogs run at Trail Breaker Kennel.
I felt the ship vibrate as the captain revved the engine, and soon the sternwheel pushed Discovery III from near the shore into the middle of the river.
The captain docked Discovery III a couple miles downstream, near the confluence of the Chena and Tanana Rivers. There, we disembarked to tour Chena Indian Village, a reproduction of an Athabascan village of the early 1900s.
“These dogs live for this,” said Dave as he mounted the sled. “They will run at an average of twenty miles per hour over shorter distances and can run upwards of 15 miles per hour over longer distances. We are about to start a short distance run.”
I expected to hear Dave yell ‘Mush!’ After all, he was a ‘musher,’ right?
Well, he was, but he didn’t yell ‘mush.’
“We don’t say ‘mush,’” I heard Dave say over the loudspeaker. “Instead, we say, “Let’s go!” And with that, the team shot forward and was quickly out of sight.
Dave and the dogs followed a snaking path – much like a road course in a car race – around the grounds at the kennel.
“I see them!” Jill exclaimed. “There.” She pointed, but by the time I looked, they were gone.
“There,” she said again a minute later. This time I spotted them. But in a flash, they were obscured by a small stand of trees.
Four or five minutes later, the dogs and Dave (with the sled) were back where they started. The handlers (there were several) released each dog from the harness, and they (the dogs!) ran down the bank and into the river – their way of cooling off after their workout.
Jill and I saw a dog sled demo last year when we were in Denali National Park. Believe me when I tell you – ‘seen one, seen them all’ does not apply to dog sledding. It was a hoot and a treat to watch the dogs run at Trail Breaker Kennel.
I felt the ship vibrate as the captain revved the engine, and soon the sternwheel pushed Discovery III from near the shore into the middle of the river.
The captain docked Discovery III a couple miles downstream, near the confluence of the Chena and Tanana Rivers. There, we disembarked to tour Chena Indian Village, a reproduction of an Athabascan village of the early 1900s.
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This resembles the original Chena Athabascan Village of the early 1900s and is located near that site. Villages similar to this appeared along the rivers after steamboat captains like Charlie Binkley began bringing prospectors in search of gold in the late 1800s and early 1900s.
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~ Riverboard Discovery Gazette
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The village included a fish camp, where a young lady demonstrated how to filet and dry salmon; a pen with a handful of caribou; several log cabins and a bear cache; and a fenced enclosure with huskies.
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As we disembarked, a few employees from the village split the passengers into three groups, as it was easier for the guides – all were young Alaskan Natives – to interact with smaller groups as we toured the village. Each group left the dock in a different direction.
It began to drizzle as we walked. It was the first rain, and the only rain, that day. Jill and I pulled our hoods over our heads.
“If there’s much more rain, I’ll bring out my umbrella,” Jill announced.
I did what all dads do – I smiled and gave her a knowing nod.
It began to drizzle as we walked. It was the first rain, and the only rain, that day. Jill and I pulled our hoods over our heads.
“If there’s much more rain, I’ll bring out my umbrella,” Jill announced.
I did what all dads do – I smiled and gave her a knowing nod.
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Our guide led us to an area where there was a village log cabin, trapper’s line cabin, bear cache, and display of pelts.
The Athabascan Natives, she told us, traveled in small groups – a kin-based network – to fish, hunt, and trap. “Traditionally, they lived in camps in the summer and villages, like this one, in the winter. The log cabins, typically one room, had sodden roofs to provide a layer of insulation. The cache, which held food and supplies, was built on stilts to keep bears and other wild animals out. |
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“Line cabins were temporary accommodations outside of the village, a place where trappers lived, stored, and processed fur when they carried out their trapping activities.”
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She pointed to the pelts – rabbit, beaver, wolf, and others – that hung from the cache to the right of a ladder.
“The Athabascans,” she said, “made clothes and blankets from different animal hides and pelts – not only as protection from the weather, but also as beautiful works of art.”
“The Athabascans,” she said, “made clothes and blankets from different animal hides and pelts – not only as protection from the weather, but also as beautiful works of art.”
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I spotted a moose as we neared our next stop. He seemed to have eyes for me…or should I say, he seemed to have eyes ON me. That moose was incredibly big!
Was I really scared? Nah, as he proved to be as friendly as Bullwinkle (and stuffed, too!). |
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One hundred feet further on, we stopped to learn about and admire three hides displayed on a wooden rack – one each from a caribou, moose, and bear (left to right in the photo).
I thought the bear hide was the prettiest of the three, and it looked the warmest, too. It was certainly soft to the touch. Jill, though, was partial to the moose's hide, maybe because she was infatuated with seeing a moose. In any event, she chose that hide for a made-to-order 'Kodak moment' memory! 
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Much to our delight, a couple of young ladies – again, Athabascan Natives – modeled two fur parkas, one worn by a man (possibly a chief) and the other worn by a woman.
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Both parkas were constructed from the pelts of various animals and adorned with beadwork, fringes, and intricate designs. They looked warm and luxurious!
“Check out those parkas,” I said to Jill. “Do you think mom would like one?” |
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She got the joke.
“Find something smaller for her, as you don’t have room in your suitcase for a fur coat,” she wryly replied.
Our guide told us that the parkas were ‘museum quality,’ which truly made them works of art.
‘You are now free to roam about the village, but please keep an eye on your watch as Discovery III will push off from the dock in thirty minutes.”
And with that, Jill and I were off.
“Find something smaller for her, as you don’t have room in your suitcase for a fur coat,” she wryly replied.
Our guide told us that the parkas were ‘museum quality,’ which truly made them works of art.
‘You are now free to roam about the village, but please keep an eye on your watch as Discovery III will push off from the dock in thirty minutes.”
And with that, Jill and I were off.
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We stopped to see the caribou (loved the ‘velvet’ that covered their antlers!) and huskies (so adorable…and again, full of energy!), and to have a look-see inside the trading post, which was stocked, we were told, with typical goods.
Ritz crackers and Hills Bros. coffee? Really?! Possibly, as those products were introduced in 1934 and 1900, respectively…but certainly not in those modern-day containers. I ran into my new buddy, Jim, when I left the trading post. |
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We met a couple of days back on the shuttle bus from the Fairbanks airport to the Princess lodge. Jim, a veteran of the Vietnam War (Semper Fi to a proud Marine!), and I struck up a conversation – we found several things we had in common – and from that, a friendship. I saw Jim and his wife, Josey, throughout our Cruisetour. They were (and are) lovely people!
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Jill and I heard a short blast from the direction of the riverboat ("Let's go," I said), a sure sign that it was time to leave. Soon everyone was aboard, and we pushed off for the return trip upriver to Steamboat Landing.
“Well, Jill, what did you think?”
“That was a great experience, and I really liked learning from Athabascan Natives – much more authentic than a museum presentation would be. And you?”
“I felt like I was wandering a living museum with more than a hundred years of history on display. And I lapped up the information that those young ladies shared.”
Here’s something else that I can say with the benefit of hindsight: In my brief time at the Chena Indian Village, I had answers to many questions I might have otherwise asked during the land tour through the Alaska Interior.
As we neared Steamboat Landing, Skylar posed this question: “How many ways can people use the Chena River as a means of transportation?”
A few guests shouted out answers.
“One.’’
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Those are good guesses,” he said as he held up his hand. He used his fingers – all five – to count out the ways.
“Well, Jill, what did you think?”
“That was a great experience, and I really liked learning from Athabascan Natives – much more authentic than a museum presentation would be. And you?”
“I felt like I was wandering a living museum with more than a hundred years of history on display. And I lapped up the information that those young ladies shared.”
Here’s something else that I can say with the benefit of hindsight: In my brief time at the Chena Indian Village, I had answers to many questions I might have otherwise asked during the land tour through the Alaska Interior.
As we neared Steamboat Landing, Skylar posed this question: “How many ways can people use the Chena River as a means of transportation?”
A few guests shouted out answers.
“One.’’
“Two.”
“Three.”
“Those are good guesses,” he said as he held up his hand. He used his fingers – all five – to count out the ways.
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Raising one finger, he said, “boating.” And with another finger, he said, “flying,” as he pointed to a small airplane on the bank of the river off the starboard side.
“Think of the Chena River as one long runway – pontoons when the river is flowing, wheels or skis when it is covered in ice.” |
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And then, in quick succession, he raised three more fingers as he said, “skiing, walking, and driving.”
“Driving?” someone called out.
“Yep. People drive on the river when it ices over,” he replied. “Snowmobiles, cars, and even trucks when - not if - the ice is thick enough.”
Jill poked me in the ribs and said, “Can you imagine driving on this river? I mean, even if it’s thick with iced, would you feel safe?”
I shook my head from side to side.
Soon, we reached the dock, and as the captain shut down the diesel engines, two young guys – one forward and one aft – tied bow lines to the pilings to secure the riverboat.
As I am wont to say, ‘It’s not about the days I traveled but rather the experiences I had along the way.’ Well, the riverboat tour aboard Discovery III and the stops we made were memorable experiences, from start to finish.
“I’m hungry,” I said to Jill as we left the dock.
“Good thing,” she replied with a wink, “because we are expected at the Discovery Dining Hall for a family-style meal.”
A hostess showed us to a long table in a cavernous room, where we joined other guests from the riverboat. Servers brought bowls of food – miner’s beef stew, rustic roasted vegetables, and a kale apple pecan salad – and a basket of sourdough rolls. There was a German chocolate brownie next to each plate.
Sounds delicious, right?
Unfortunately, it was ‘meh,’ likely a function of putting out a spread for hundreds of people. I’ll leave it at that.
When Jill and I finished, we had twenty minutes of free time before we had to reboard the bus.
“Ready to shop?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
Another rhetorical question, asked by one inveterate shopper of another!
The gift shop was huge – there were many rooms – and it was filled with everything a souvenir hunter could imagine.
Jill found and bought a cute knit hat, which she put to good use in the days ahead. Me? I made two small purchases – a pair of made-in-Alaska glass earrings for Debra and a Discovery III lapel pin to display on my ‘Alaska’ baseball cap.
We were on the road at two.
“Sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery as we make our way to Denali National Park,” Carlos said.
And that was what I did.
Click to read my next story, From Fairbanks to Denali.
“Driving?” someone called out.
“Yep. People drive on the river when it ices over,” he replied. “Snowmobiles, cars, and even trucks when - not if - the ice is thick enough.”
Jill poked me in the ribs and said, “Can you imagine driving on this river? I mean, even if it’s thick with iced, would you feel safe?”
I shook my head from side to side.
Soon, we reached the dock, and as the captain shut down the diesel engines, two young guys – one forward and one aft – tied bow lines to the pilings to secure the riverboat.
As I am wont to say, ‘It’s not about the days I traveled but rather the experiences I had along the way.’ Well, the riverboat tour aboard Discovery III and the stops we made were memorable experiences, from start to finish.
“I’m hungry,” I said to Jill as we left the dock.
“Good thing,” she replied with a wink, “because we are expected at the Discovery Dining Hall for a family-style meal.”
A hostess showed us to a long table in a cavernous room, where we joined other guests from the riverboat. Servers brought bowls of food – miner’s beef stew, rustic roasted vegetables, and a kale apple pecan salad – and a basket of sourdough rolls. There was a German chocolate brownie next to each plate.
Sounds delicious, right?
Unfortunately, it was ‘meh,’ likely a function of putting out a spread for hundreds of people. I’ll leave it at that.
When Jill and I finished, we had twenty minutes of free time before we had to reboard the bus.
“Ready to shop?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
Another rhetorical question, asked by one inveterate shopper of another!
The gift shop was huge – there were many rooms – and it was filled with everything a souvenir hunter could imagine.
Jill found and bought a cute knit hat, which she put to good use in the days ahead. Me? I made two small purchases – a pair of made-in-Alaska glass earrings for Debra and a Discovery III lapel pin to display on my ‘Alaska’ baseball cap.
We were on the road at two.
“Sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery as we make our way to Denali National Park,” Carlos said.
And that was what I did.
Click to read my next story, From Fairbanks to Denali.