Part VI - Fairbanks to the Ship - June 9

I awake about 4:00 AM and it's light already.  We must have our bags in the hall for transport to Anchorage by seven. We decide to do without any carry-ons except for my computer in order to make our travel day easier. At breakfast our waitress asks about my gastric bypass when I use Dr. Marema's half-size card to ask for smaller portions. We chat about the surgery and explore her fears and concerns some. As we prepare to board our bus, our luggage is still sitting in the hallway. The HAL reps are still not as well-informed about what will happen to us and our luggage when we transfer from plane to bus in Anchorage, but we trust everything will work out fine. The sun has risen at 3:15 AM and will not set until after midnight tomorrow morning. 

Once again we find we've been separated on two buses because our names are different.  We tell the driver and then board together.  She drives us through greater downtown Fairbanks, a town with little to distinguish it.  It’s built along a lovely river, and, at its height, was a thriving center for central Alaska’s gold mining industry.  We drive into the countryside and stop for a look at a section of the trans-Alaska pipeline.  The silver tube about five feet in diameter is held in place by supports implanted in the ground.  Teflon pads allow the pipeline to move back and forth on its supports in case of earthquake. A "dumb pig" and a "smart pig" are displayed. These metal contraptions ride through the inside of the pipe scrubbing out accumulations of wax from the oil. The warm sun feels wonderful after yesterday's wind and cold. The countryside this far into the interior is much more gentle. In winter temperatures often fall to seventy below zero.

Dredge #8 was brought to Alaska to ease the hard physical labor of gold mining and to make it possible for the gold company to dig more ore. I had thought the idea of visiting an ore dredge was kind of hokey, but it turns out to be an interesting and enjoyable attraction.  The dredge is huge floating machine that cuts into the permafrost rock structures and then sluices gold through a sort of sieve that separates the gold laden ore.  They can then precipitate the gold by combining it with mercury, which is then separated from the gold by a heat process.  The dredge itself is a huge complex, a floating mouth that eats rock. After touring the dredge we get an opportunity to pan for gold. Each of us is given a poke with some sandy dirt in it. We pour the dirt into the pan and then slosh it around to get the sand and gravel out. The gold sinks to the bottom and, as the sand disappears, small flecks of gold appear in the bottom of the pan. We take the gold flecks out of the pan, putting them into little film canisters and then take them to the assaying office/gift shop. Irene has managed to finish all our pans and garner about $31.00 in gold flecks.  She and Mom can now have the gold they panned around their neck.  The attraction owners are panning for admission gold at nearly $30.00 a head.  The flecks of gold make each person feel they’ve participated in the mining process.  We then go into a huge mess hall where “miner’s” stew, salad, and biscuits are served.  On the whole, a pretty decent experience.

The Cantilever balances the dredge to enable the ore to be taken in from the front.	These huge buckets take in tons of ore to leachout a few ounces of gold inside the dredge.	Irene and Mom swish the water and grit out of the pans, leaving a few specks of gold flakes for themselves.

We are driven to the Fairbanks airport where check-in is quick and relatively painless for the 45 minute flight to Anchorage. In Anchorage the HAL agents tell us that our luggage will go directly to the ship, a piece of information the staff at the hotel in Anchorage didn't have and over which we have worried.  We board the bus and head for Seward.  The bus is a 60 foot articulated Prevost bus.  It has an accordion joint about 45 feet back.  The driver says it is fun and easy to drive.  Fairbanks has been sunny and warm.  Anchorage at 5:00 PM is chilly and overcast with a drizzly rain falling.  Our driver, Spencer Dorsey, is a cheerful and funny Mormon kid who dispenses humor and information in equal doses as he heads down the highway, a mostly two lane road traveling along the Tumagain Arm of Cook Inlet and then over the Chugach mountain range. As Spencer drives, the complainer from the train trip on Saturday sits behind him and scribbles criticisms of his driving, his manner, and anything else her vicious little mind can contrive. Some people just don't want to enjoy themselves and wish to drag others down along with them.

We drive through lovely mountain passes, past avalanches and lakes. A few small towns along the road have roadhouses and some tumbledown houses.  It’s a good thing we don’t need fuel, because there is none. After a three hour drive we pull into Seward, a small seacoast village, driving past a large pleasure boat and commercial marina.  The Veendam, our home for the next seven days rests at a pier just beyond the marina.  We pull up to the ship and through a quick embarkation process.  We are the last passengers to arrive. Even though we are, indeed, past sailing time, we're relieved to see the ship has waited for us. A steward leads us to our cabin where the first thing we see is all our luggage. It has all arrived.

It rained all the way to Seward, but the views were spectacular along this mountain road.	Seward has a huge yacht harbor as seen from the deck of the MS Veendam.	We finally see the Veendam through the mist across the low buildings in Seward harobor.

We meet our cabin steward, Dicky, a smiling, slight, young Indonesian man who speaks fairly good English.  Our cabin seems to have plenty of room for the three of us, or at least it will after we unpack the six suitcases that crowd the aisle.  At the entryway to the cabin there is a bathroom door on the left and closets enough to hold almost all our clothing on the right.  The bathroom is spacious with a whirlpool tub/shower, toilet, and sink.  A medicine cabinet set in a corner has three shelves. A kingsize bed dominates the inside part of the cabin. A couch is made up as a single bed for Mom. Across from it is a desk with a TV sitting on it and three sets of three drawers.  Beyond is a wall-to-wall glass door opening onto a verandah which has a lounge chair, a chair, and a small round table. From the verandah we can see out to anything that we pass on the starboard side. We will be plenty comfortable in this room.

We are too late for dinner in the Rotterdam, the waiter service, dining room, but we repair to the Lido dining room for a buffet supper, and off to bed. We are on board and heading out to sea.  None of us has sea legs yet, and we are all a bit queasy.  We’re tired, though, from living in these days that never seem to end and in a world that tries to make use of every hour of daylight.  The locals have all winter to rest up.