We Take Ourselves With Us

Our last day on ship began early morning as we floated in the smooth mirror of the ocean a few miles from the Hubbard Glacier, a surprisingly noisy and active glacier.  The still of the water was paired with cracking thunder as the ice calved and groaned.  You'll see some random hats and strangers in these pictures because it seemed like the entire ship was on the front decks to catch an image (or one hundred) of our last glacier (though, hopefully, not the last glacier).  At one point, I heard a woman remark in a familiar marital-tone, "Be careful honey, don't drop the camera or we'll lose the 200 photos you just took."  Looking back at just the photos I took with my phone (and not counting the ones Ned took with "real" cameras), I can completely sympathize: it's that kind of experience.  Look at the tiny white ball of the sun forcing its way through the heavy clouds.  The day before, the park ranger told us that these are the conditio...

I woke up Thursday morning realizing that I had many, many muscles previously unknown to me.   Kayaking cross current had seemed difficult but doable yesterday.   But today, hmm … So I started the morning in search of the Aleve and, having found that, coffee. Most of my mornings are spent in the Sun’s sports bar, which is empty that time of day, set for breakfast, and—for whatever reason—completely unknown to those in the super-crowded, super-loud Garden Café just across the hallway.   So, I get to catch up on the blog with incredible views and Wimbledon on the TVs.   At some point, the rest of Kress-Davis troop shows up, and we eat, catch-up on emails while in port, and generally enjoy the comfy chairs and relative quiet.   I’ll note that the only time we’ve felt the press of the more than 1,900 people on board has been at the breakfast buffet; at all other times, the Sun, classified as a small ship, works some ocean magic to make the ship feel spacious. ...