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Tue, 29 Aug 2006

Berch on Cruises, part 2: formal night, ports of call, and the thermal sanctuary

Our first full day on the ship was uneventful, though it began with somewhat of a mistake: we decided to try the dining-room breakfast, on the grounds that since the dining-room food was so much better than the buffet, that must surely extend to breakfast. Now, neither of us really likes facing the world before coffee, but we decided to brave the crowds -- mostly at my insistence since room service did not offer my daily mainstay of hot oatmeal -- and headed to the International Dining Room, which is where sit-down menu breakfast and lunch are served. First of all, we were matched with two other couples (eek) and plopped down at a 6-top. Next was the 8:00 AM cheery perkiness of one of our tablemates, whom we dubbed "Chatty Cathy". The food (I had oatmeal and a croissant) was fine, but we swore off dining-room breakfast for the duration. I've wondered where the evil management types who schedule (and thrive on) so-called "breakfast meetings" go on vacation; now I know.

The rest of the day was pretty much spent exploring the ship. Even now, after a week's cruise and a bunch of notes and photos, I'm pretty sure there was plenty I never got to. There's a fully-equipped gym, a jogging track, more swimming pools than I can remember, a walkable promenade all the way around Deck 7 (and a little bit of Deck 8), similar walks on the top two decks, plus a bar on every corner. (Each has a thematic decor, and a different ambience; the Skywalker Lounge is all mirrored-disco lights and flash; the Wheelhouse resembles an old-fashioned men's club with leather wing-back chairs; the Explorer's Lounge is cozy and has a good view.) And since we were out of port, the casino had started up. It was actually an attractive (though smoky) room: I managed not to risk a single cent (there were penny slots!) but wandered through a few times. It had a pleasant African motif.

That night was Formal Night, a hoary old tradition dating back to the age of ocean liners and widely grumbled about among passengers, who nevertheless manage to turn out in snappy dress twice per voyage. I had whimsically brought my tuxedo along, damned if I was going to be outdone, and things turned out reasonably well. We sat at the Savoy Lounge waiting for our dinner reservation, which afforded a good view of the Captain's Reception in the adjacent Grand Atrium.

Dinner was at the Pacific Moon Dining Room, and their nightly special -- which I ordered -- was stir-fried shrimp and scallops with vegetables and Hong Kong noodles. What's more, it gave the impression that whomever cooked it had actually cooked Chinese food before and understood the seasonings and timing of the dish. Replicating that for a large and unpredictable quantity of diners while keeping the quality high was very impressive. With the stir-fry I had first courses of smoked duck breast with greens, crab quiche, and a nice bowl of lobster bisque. I don't usually have dessert, but opted for the chocolate hazelnut soufflé, which was delicious.

The next day was our first port of call, Ketchikan. The weather had closed in quite a bit, turning overnight from a fog into a drizzle, with poor visibility. Nonetheless, the floatplanes were flying, and we were awakened very early, our ship in port, by swarms of amazingly noisy aircraft taking off and landing right next to the ship. We had a good view of the action from the balcony. (One misconception I had was that cruise ships always docked on the, well, port side -- not the case here.)

It was only a short stop in Ketchikan -- we were scheduled to sail at 2 PM -- but I really wanted to go into town, although "town" didn't really look like much. We'd decided not to book any tours since it was such a short stop. But, down the gangplank we went, and I landed with both feet at the end on the wharf, having set foot in my 50th state. Hurrah! (Plus the District of Columbia, of course, but haven't made it to Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, Guam, or any minor possessions of the United States.)

Ketchikan itself, like the other two towns we called at, seemed to have several faces. First is the tourist village on the waterfront, which exists entirely to service cruise ships, and contains an amazing range of similarly-themed gift and curio shops selling a combination of Native crafts and mass-produced merchandise from China. (It was not always apparent which was which.) Plus art, jewelry, accessories, various tours and excursions, and the usual number of bars and eateries. We pretty much skipped all of them, but headed instead to the Tongass Trading Post, an amazing three-story retail emporium that almost literally seemed to stock everything, from casual clothing to fancy; everything needed for an expedition into back country, from pre-packed food containers to rifles and ammunition; tents, boats, outerwear; maps, GPS receivers, radios, and a good selection of books. I bought a raincoat.

The second face is behind the tourist village, and was the remnant of a town struggling with a decaying housing stock, some poverty (much of it Native), and pieces of the non-tourist economy. We saw a number of boarded-up houses, a free clinic, a halfway house, a rescue mission, and I wondered about the stories of the lives of some of the people I saw. A third face, much more successful, was Ketchikan as a modern freight and transportation hub: the container port, the airport (with an Alaska Airlines Boeing 737 freighter taking off), and a large number of water craft, from water taxis to bulk carriers.

Back on the ship, we found the perfect antidote to the southeastern Alaska climate, in the form of the Thermal Sanctuary in the ship's Lotus Spa. The Spa, which had a modern Japanese motif, was one of the nicest areas on the entire ship. It offered the customary set of massage and skin therapies, mud baths, aromatherapy, and the like, at suitably uptown prices, but also offered an unlimited Thermal Sanctuary pass, for only $109 per couple, for the whole voyage. This entitled you to use of the saunas, steam room, theraputic vapor room, and something I hadn't come across before, a set of reclining lounge beds surfaced with matte-finished ceramic tile and heated. Lying on them for 20 minutes, wrapped in your terrycloth spa robe, was heavenly. I liked the vapor room best, which was a light steam room with a eucalyptus aroma essence. The main steam room was traditional style and a good solid sweat. There were also traditional wood saunas in the mens' and womens' changing rooms, and a "gentle sauna" in the main area that we didn't spend a lot of time in since it was not very hot. The spa was one of the highlights of the cruise.

Dinner was at the Savoy Dining Room, with just Maggie and me at a table for 2, which was a nice change, although we loved the family dinners. That night was, if I remember correctly, French night, and we started with escargot bourguignon, in the traditional presentation, onion soup gratinée, and I had the duck á l'orange with potatoes and red cabbage. The escargot and soup were excellent; the duck was a little on the bony side, with an overly sweet orange sauce, not awful but not the best dinner main course of the voyage.

The next day, however, it was back to rain and fog. We arrived early in the morning in Juneau, Alaska's capital, which seemed quite a bit like Ketchikan, but, alas, even wetter. The two touring highlights of Juneau are the nearby Mendenhall Glacier, accessible by road (about a 20-minute drive), and a tramway to the top of Mt. Roberts, which is adjacent to the cruise ship docks. We decided early on to skip the Mendenhall Glacier on the grounds that we were going to see a whole lot of glaciers in the next few days, hopefully even walking on one, and in light of the weather and diminished visibility, the tour to the Visitor Center might not be worth the hassle. (This turned out to be the rigtht choice.)

Mt. Roberts Tramway, on the other hand, was right next door, and when the rain let up a little we headed over there. It's a dramatic ascent up the mountain -- punctuated, in our case, by a frightening instant when the operator accidently leaned on the stop button, jerking our car to a halt and momentarily leaving us suspended in mid-air, slowly swinging in the wind -- but that passed quickly and the view from the top was magnificent, even in the rain. I managed some quick photos of Juneau and of our ship docked below, and then we hiked a bit on a wet but pleasant trail, visited the wildlife center, and headed back down.

Back on the ship, dinner that night was a triumph: at the Santa Fe Dining Room, the last of the four main dining rooms, Maggie and I shared a table with her parents, and I had a simple but very satisfying meal, beginning with a crab quiche and chilled beef consommé with marsala, and a main course of a roast veal chop with a reduction sauce, with sauteed asparagus. The veal rib chop was tender, flavorful, and possibly the best I've had of the genre. It went well with a 2004 Sonoma pinot noir from La Crema.

It was time for a good night's sleep, since we had big plans for the next day in Skagway.

Posted at 14:45 | permanent link

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