A journey of 2,300 miles begins with a lack of sleep.

Going to the airport was the first leg of my commute to a job in Alaska.

Alaska is much more than a reality TV show.

Its name derives from the Aleut word Alaxsxaq (or Alyeska), meaning “the object toward which the action of the sea is directed” or “great land.”

In 1867, the United States purchased Alaska from Russia for $7.2 million dollars. And you thought you’ve made some good investments. The deal was negotiated by President Andrew Johnson’s secretary of state, William Seward. The American public wasn’t sold on the purchase, thinking it a ridiculous amount to spend on a faraway place, which they referred to as “polar bear garden,” “Seward’s Icebox” and “Seward’s Folly.” Alexander II sold 570,373 square miles for about 2 cents an acre. Gold was discovered in the 1890s and the Klondike Gold Rush followed. Thousands looked for gold, but it didn’t pan out for everyone. Alaska was granted territorial status in 1912 and became the 49th state in 1959. Alaska is one-fifth the size of the 48 contiguous states. In 1968, oil was discovered at Prudhoe Bay. The Trans-Alaska Pipeline began pumping oil in 1977. The pipeline was 48-inches in diameter and stretched 800 miles over three mountain ranges and 34 major rivers. Oil traveled at about 7 mph to the port of Valdez. Gas prices are high in Alaska. Dinosaurs in liquid form aren’t cheap.

My first Alaskan stop was Juneau. The Mendenhall Glacier is the lasting memory that most visitors carry of Juneau. It’s a 12-mile-long by 1 1/2-mile wide, 1500-square-mile expanse that messes with the human sense of scale and perspective. Its ice can be 400 to 800 feet deep. It’s a pity they built the glacier so close to town, but it would make for a heck of a cocktail party. Juneau is an unusual state capital. There are no roads leading in or out. The city is surrounded by towering mountains and the waters of Gastineau Channel. For most, the only way in or out is by air or sea. Several locals told me of a third way to get to Juneau. Now I know the trip can be by plane, boat or birth canal.

I boarded the LeConte ferry in Juneau and headed to Haines. I consider the ferry a fine part of the trip. I hiked to the solarium and peered at the passing scenery while standing near enough to radiant heaters that I became crispy. The 3,500-mile Alaska Marine Highway was established in 1963. The public transportation system’s ferries are nicknamed “poor man’s cruises.” I scanned the water for critters — things like the sea otter that has a fur coat with as many as one million hairs per square inch. One 19th-century American merchant declared the sea otter’s pelt to be the most beautiful natural object in the world. The ferry offers a chance to see otter people. People keep an eye or two out for alleged killer whales. Seeing the tail of a whale makes a whale of a tale. How long does a four and one-half hour ferry ride take? I’m not sure. The ferry can be a place where the clock and calendar really don’t matter. I tried to carve out more room for myself by telling everyone to watch their step getting off the ferry at the Eldred Rock Lighthouse. The ferry doesn’t stop there.

I landed in Haines. It’s a place that if you have never been to, you cannot know what you are missing. The mountains don’t look real, looking more like a painted backdrop.

I saw a sign reading, “Danger. Falling mountain goats.”

Many visitors bring eagle eyes to Haines. It’s the valley of the eagles. You can’t see the forest for the eagles. Thanks to all the bald eagles, salmon are able to fly. With so many eagles around, people worry about goldfish in bowls.

I was in Haines in my Hanes underwear. The local termite exterminator specializes in totem poles. The Hammer Museum features a collection of 2,000 hammers. Haines is quirky, quiet and quintessential. The beauty found there strains belief. Haines not only knocks your socks off, but it rolls them up and puts them away.

It’s just like that happy place of yours where you go to hide in plain sight.

 

Hartland resident Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.