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A bird's-eye view from the bridge of the M.V. Matanuska
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Travel log
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Journal date:
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Nov. 29
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Route:
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Juneau, Alaska; Haines, Alaska
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Miles today:
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93
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Total miles:
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2,548
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Weather:
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clear, sunny & cold
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A perfect November day on Lynn Canal
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Hamann journal: Your ferry wears Army boots
December 6, 1999
Web posted at: 11:06 a.m. EST (1606 GMT)
EDITOR'S NOTE: Seattle-based correspondent Jack Hamann is nearing the end of another adventure, this one to just to the south of the Arctic Circle. He's driven through the Canadian Rockies, across the windswept northern plains, up the Inside Passage and along the northernmost section of the Alaska Highway. Follow along here for regular dispatches on his journey.
By Jack Hamann and Leslie Hamann
Journal date: November 29
Installment #11
(CNN) -- Does the sun ever stop shining in Alaska?
Under normal conditions, it takes 4 1/2 hours for a ferry to travel the 77 miles from Juneau to Haines, Alaska.
In late November, "normal" conditions are likely to include a little rain, a lot of snow, plenty of mist and a good dose of fog. Every one of those weather demons was missing in action today.
Our ride was on the M.V. Matanuska, one of the two oldest (1963) ferries on the Inside Passage. Since we had just spent the end of last week on the newest ferry, the M.V. Kennicott, it was fun to hear the crew of the Matanuska whisper nasty rumors about their high-tech cousin. The Kennicott is ugly (everyone agrees). The Kennicott is slow (might be true as it pulls up to the dock, but she motors in the open water). The Kennicott has flat decks (such an insult!). The Kennicott's interior is less-than-inspired (in fact, the much older Matanuska offers much better views of the passing scenery, especially in the cafeteria). Our ferry is better than your ferry! Your ferry wears Army boots! Nyah, nyah, nyah!
If anything, the newer vessel was meant to serve several masters: fuel-efficient, able to traverse open ocean as well as calm seas, built to serve as a command post in the event of an oil spill emergency. When Jack compared it to the practical but boring multipurpose sports stadiums of the 1970s, a Chief Mate laughed: the Kennicott was the "Kingdome of the Alaska Ferry System."
If we had been aboard a garbage scow, the scenery today would still have been astonishing. Without a cloud in the sky, and a low sun flooding the snow-covered mountains with rich, orangish light, it was hard to know which direction to look. Giant glaciers loomed over valleys at the Lynn Canal. A humpback whale surfaced on the right; dolphins rode the ferry's wake on the left. The day was so unusually gorgeous that some of the galley crew grabbed their fellow employees to be sure they took time to look outside. Those employees usually dread their weekly safety drill (practicing fighting fires and abandoning ship), but the bright sun made the cold wind less painful, and many of these experienced travelers couldn't keep their eyes off the mountains.
Did we mention the wind? On the deck of an Alaskan ferry, charging up an icy inlet near the onslaught of winter, the wind can cut through many layers of polyester, pile and Gore-Tex. More than once, we tried to take a picture from the outside decks, only to be blown backwards, our boots skidding across the sheet of ice. Yet we kept venturing out.
By the time we pulled into Haines, it was just 3 p.m., but the sun had dipped behind the mountains. Only the pink on the peaks reminded us that this was a day that we might not have deserved, but didn't hesitate to enjoy.
Jack Hamann is a correspondent with CNN's Environmental Unit and CNN NewsStand.
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