There is no doubting Juneau’s status as the Gateway to the Glaciers.
Majestic snow mountains and the cascading Medenhall Glacier greeted our approach
– impressive to say the least, so much so that most people on the ferry missed the
lovely sunset left in our wake.

But the temperatures were uncomfortably cool, the price for the unusually clear skies
that evening. The city’s “bigness”, after the small-town charms of Ketchikan and Sitka, proved to be bewildering at first. Especially when the shuttle transport mentioned in the guidebooks never came (later I was to learn there was no service this year at all!). Eventually, I did make my way to the Juneau International Hostel by pooling an
expensive cab ride with three other fellow “strandees”. Thus was the stuttering start to
my three-day visit to Juneau, totally unsuspecting of the awesome adventure laying ahead
– one that counts as the single greatest highlight of my Alaskan trip…

There is much to do in reportedly, the most beautiful city of Alaska, and I am only
referring to the city centre, which clings to the sides of Mt Juneau and Mt Roberts and overlooks the Gastineau Channel, with its myriad of narrow streets, storefronts, slanted houses, the by-now familiar network of staircases, not to mention the bustling waterfront
full of cruise ships, tankers and all sorts of boats.

From its humble beginnings as a favourite fishing ground of the Tlingit people, then
a town founded on gold nuggets in the 1880s, Juneau prospered into a mining hub and took over from Sitka as Capital of Alaska in 1906. As a result, a walk in the city centre may include views of “stately” buildings like the State Capitol Building, the Governor’s Mansion, the State Office Building, the Federal Building and so on.

From a tourist’s perspective, however, I much prefer the Alaska State Museum
that features realistic wildlife exhibits, a fascinating Alaska native gallery and, during my visit, a neat collection of black-white photography. The other major attraction was, of course, the multitude of well-stocked shops which the cruise folks descended upon like vultures. Okay, I admit that I was enticed too and contributed my fair share to the Alaskan
tourist dollar, sigh.

Then there was the Mt Roberts Tramway which cost a hefty US$22 for a round trip.
No way I was going to pay that, especially when there was no guarantee of a scenic view
in the gloomy weather. So I elected to hike up one crispy morning from near the hostel. Surprisingly, it was a relatively straightforward forest trail, albeit steep and muddy at times. An hour of back-and-forth switchbacks later, I finally reached the Nature Center just ahead
of the first tramway ride gliding up in the drizzle.

After catching the informative Tlingit film in the theatre, it was time to continue the hike.
And what a wonderful change of terrain it was when the trek broke into alpine brush above the tree line, with great views of the Gastineau Channel, dividing Juneau and Douglas.
Once known as the Father Brown's Trail, after the Catholic Jesuit priest who
constructed the trail in 1908 with a group of volunteers, a replica of the original cross
stands marking the 2.5-mile point.

The entire hike to the Gastineau Peak is a 4-mile ascent. After going further up
the ridge, I decided to turn back as the path was getting soggy and fog was clouding in. Nevertheless, I had a good time on the ridge exploring the multi-coloured meadows.

Time for shopping to qualify for the tramway down. One had to spend at least US$5
for the 1-way ride. Either way, they get your money, sigh again.

Juneau is a hiking paradise and another convenient trek from the hostel is the highly recommended Perseverance Trail. And I wasn’t disappointed. Although it did take a while getting there by foot, as usual via some steep uphill and then a seemingly-endless
side road.

The popular trail follows a gentle grade on the left side of the valley around the horn of
Mt Juneau. Signs of the old Alaska-Juneau Mine can be seen across the gorge.
Further up, there is the Ebner Falls which can be reached by a side path where there is
a breathtaking view of the glacier waters pouring past and ricocheting off the canyon walls. The path itself was very picturesque, laden with golden-brown and other colourful leaves, along the aptly-named Gold Creek, and surrounded by lush green vegetation. If not for
the incessant rains, I would have taken many a snapshot along this beautiful walk. Boy did
I regret starting out so late in the afternoon as that gave me very little time to explore
before I had to return, reluctantly.

Besides hiking, there are lots of other activities available at Juneau, such as kayaking, rafting, going on flight-seeing tours and whale-watching trips. But the centerpiece attraction has got to be the glaciers which are part of the expansive Juneau Icefield, covering some over 1,800 square miles. In fact, what we see of the mountain peaks around Juneau today – some cut jagged, others moulded round – is the sculptured result of the massive glacier covering the entire area during the Wisconsin Ice Age. The amazing thing is
these seemingly-still glaciers are constantly moving and continuing to shape the
landscape today. Such is the power of nature.

Enough of gaping glacier facts. Getting back to the practicalities of visiting the glaciers
in the area, the options are entirely dependent on the budget. They range from the incredibly exorbitant, namely a visit to the renowned Glacier Bay National Park
to the west, boasting of 16 tidewater glaciers and 3 million acres of wilderness
– clearly beyond the reach of a modest backpacker like myself, at least until I strike the
lottery – to the friendly accessible Medenhall Glacier, Juneau’s very own drive-in
glacier which is just a cheap bus ride away, with 35 minutes’ free walking exercise
thrown in to get there from the nearest bus stop.

Well, actually I was lucky to hitch a ride to the Medenhall Visitor Center. So there I was, one of the Center’s early bird visitors before the tourist hordes arrive, browsing the exhibits on all the “whys” and “hows” of glacier facts, when a lady ranger beckoned me towards their full-size viewing panel. Lo and behold, a big black bear was on the path right below the Center! In two seconds, at least before my brain could register and transmit motor messages to my limbs to get out the camera, the huge lumbering form vanished
into the bush…

So that was it – my first encounter with a bear up close! I had thought I would be
unbelievably thrilled. But mixed with the elation was a sense of apprehension that was to eventually lead me to give up my plan to hike the 3-mile East Glacier Loop Trail.
The furry one had appeared to have headed in that general direction. There was
supposed to be a very nice and popular West Glacier Trail on the other side but it
was unfortunately closed, apparently because ignorant tourists were chasing the cubs and generally stressing the bears that needed to feed a lot in this critical pre-winter stocking period. So my hiking morning became a placid nature walk around the Center
by which time large crowds of visitors had arrived and it was time for me to
embark on that 35-minute stroll to the bus stop.

For those who can’t afford the pricey air or ferry access to Glacier Bay, there is a fantastic and highly recommended alternative – a boat cruise to the twin tidewater Sawyer Glaciers at Tracy Arm Fjord, 50 miles southeast of Juneau. Let’s just say it was worth every
cent of the US$90 (discounted for hostel members) that I paid to Adventure
Bound Alaska for the daylong trip.

We started mildly enough, on a chilly morning, going along Stephens Passage, past Admiralty Island (or the Fortress of Bears, as the Tlingit people called it). The first excitement was encountering a bunch of teasing orcas, which had us all out in the freezing deck, training our cameras on the vast waters for that elusive shot. The advantage of being in a small boat, as compared to the larger ferry, was that the wildlife seemed to come closer – in fact, one orca gave us a parting shot of a swishing tail, right after our
captain decided to move on and our backs were turned.

Then we entered Holkham Bay and began our journey into the fjord proper. Wow.
The landscape was spectacular, with snow-dotted dramatic mountains and sheer cliffs reflecting in the serene waters that went from dark to turquoise green. And our boat
went cosying right up against a boulder with a mini-waterfall. Swell.

The literature had said “Enjoy waterfalls, wildlife and stunning fjords” and we had already seen them all. Or so I thought. Till the first white lump of ice went floating nonchalantly by and got me all pumped up. Then another and another. I was exhilarated, clicking non-stop as our vessel weaved into the arm, carving a zigzag trail of waves on the calm waters, decorated surreally with icebergs against a backdrop of sculptured canyon walls and
pretty rock faces.

We stopped for a closer look at some ice chunks of “titanic” proportions (pardon the pun) and surprisingly, they had holes like cheese. Glacial ice apparently have a blue tinge because it absorbs all colours of the visible light spectrum except blue which is transmitted. The white colour comes from highly fractured ice where the air pockets indiscriminately scatter the visible light spectrum. Even more mind-boggling is the fact that we are only viewing the tip of the iceberg, literally – this I learned from the “Titanic” movie.
Er, better not get too close to the berg…

It had been an awesome day already but all hell broke lose when we approached the “mother of all highlights” – the glacier itself! The sight was simply unworldly, right out of a National Geographic channel, with the bright blue crystal-like glacier wall so stunningly up close, emanating sheets of floating ice and complete with flapping birds to add to the drama. Everybody went into a shooting frenzy despite assurances from the crew that
we were stopping for an hour. I, for one, used up a whole roll of negatives in those
few prelude minutes before I got a grip on myself!

Speaking of adrenalin highs, those sixty minutes went by impossibly fast, as we were treated to a feast of calving glacial ice, a “high drama” played out far away up on a cliff face starring a falling mountain goat and a foraging bear, with “commercial breaks” featuring a porpoise and a seal popping up occasionally amongst the icebergs. How I wished I
had three pairs of eyes!

The calving began like a slow rhapsody, with a couple of blue bit parts dropping off the glacier face tantalizingly, amidst what sounded like rifle shots but were actually the sound of grinding and cackling glacier calving, known as white thunder. Everybody watched in anticipation for each splash that followed with debris and birds flying. It pays to keep our eyes peeled on the glacier because each calving happens suddenly without warning,
out of the blue.

Okay, I am being corny but that was exactly what happened. One minute I was distracted
to move towards the front of the boat to check out a “rumour” that a mountain goat had fallen a thousand feet to its death, the next I turned back dismissing it as a joke, just in the nick of time as a mega calving occurred right before my very eyes, with a section coming off and creating a mini-landslide. Gasp. And after that Big One, the previously still water sheet began to undulate slowly outwards, floating icebergs and all, eventually rocking our boat gently. As extraordinary experiences go, this had to be among the most unforgettable
and incredibly beautiful ones.

People didn’t know which way to look – binocular-watch the engrossing wildlife entertainment up on the cliff where a bear was now trying to reach the goat carcass (so the falling mountain goat was true!), or stick to the glacier where a rumbling would cause all to jump and swerve back. We did have another Big One which I caught, thankfully. And in between all the excitement, the crew also fished up some glacial ice pieces to show us. They look like crystals and do not melt easily, unlike normal ice. Cool.

Alas, the one hour was up. Just as the bear got to the goat. Now that show-time was
over, we turned back ruefully, with one of my hostel companions still staring at the receding glacier, trying to “will” this massive blue chunk in the middle into coming off.

Needless to say, we were a most privileged group, not to mention the subject of
much envy when we got back to the hostel with our incredible stories. There was still one more “quiet” glacier to visit plus another elegant waterfall stop. But I was already contented, having exhausted most of my film. Tracy Arm Fjord was described in the brochures as “one of the most dramatic sites in the world”. All I could say was, they didn’t exaggerate.

Inside Passage           Ketchikan/Sitka                 Skagway                       Whitehorse   © Ong Hwee Yen 2003

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