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Port Call: Ketchikan!
We climbed onboard the launch and pulled away from the pier, reminded once again that we were the only one of several ships that had to use the little boats rather than walk down a gangway to the pier. Looking out through the rain splattered window, we saw the Carnival Cruise Lines ship, decorated with painted stars and other "carnival" related decorations.
At this point we weren't moving very fast, and it was hard to tell what the water was going to be like. 
The launch driver was intently looking out the windshield, as the wipers kept his view clear. We could see the boats stowed on the Carnival ship looking down at us; they were probably chuckling because they didn't have to go out and play in this weather.
The weather might be "interesting" but we are on the front row for this ride, with the second best view in the house. (The driver's seat took top prize, as it should.)
The camera was in my lap, and I was aiming it up at Jim and Tammy to see what sort of picture I could get. Jim was looking at me like I was crazy and Tammy was sharing something amusing with Dotti.
The view in the distance was still Water Street and even a sea plane is just visible. The view up close was doing a dance—changing from moment to moment. The waves can be made out, though there are no whitecaps visible, and the boat was cutting through them. It would rise and then slap down splashing water up in front of our forward window.
Here the splash reached well up the window, and if the glass were not there, we would have gotten a lapful of water.
The water fell back for a moment and the sea planes became visible tied up at the pier.
As the shore moves farther away, only a ribbon of white water is visible at the bottom of the window, leaving little to remind us of the splash that nearly covered the entire glass only moments before.
Floating on a dark sea, covered by a gray mist, and viewed through a rain splattered side window, ms Westerdam looks unreal off in the distance. The waves are clearly visible, especially up close to our launch.
The view out of the forward window is very limited now. Water droplets create a translucent curtain, drawn over our view of the shore. Details are very difficult to make out.
The view of our ship is still blurry, but thankfully she is getting larger. This is the same ship that towered over the buildings of Juneau, but started off looking mighty small sitting out in the water.
The closest wave is showing a little bit of white, and the troughs and peaks of the surface can be seen off in the distance. 
Looking up at the driver's windshield, the wipers are fortunately keeping it free of the droplets that are blocking our forward window. (We definitely wanted him to see where we were going!)
Off in the distance the mountains surrounding Ketchikan were misty and looked very wet. 
There is another white topped wave visible, but we were looking at how much bigger the Holland-America Line ship was appearing. The little launch tied up at its floating dock looks like a toy, but it was exactly the same size as the one we were on.
Proportions are starting to take on a more normal appearance. We are now looking up at ms Westerdam, and it is clearly much taller than we are. The launch across from us looks less tiny than it did. We are getting close to our destination.
The forward window has not yet recovered from the wet beating it took on the way over. We were very happy that the glass got the water and we didn't!
Fortunately there were no passengers in the retractable seats, so Tammy had a nice foot rest. (I think it probably would have been less enjoyable having someone sitting knee to knee with us and staring at us for the whole trip.)
Just in case we needed them, it was a comfortable feeling to know that the lifejackets were safely under the floor where they wouldn't get wet—well, at least until the boat hit bottom. ☺
We have gotten past our ship now, and are turning for our final approach. Ketchikan is a gray blur, but we can still make out the Carnival ship, ms Rotterdam, and the Serenade of the Seas ship tied up at the pier. Just think of all the fun their passengers missed out on having this interesting boat ride! ☺
Dotti is happy that we are almost there! The sea planes are a blur in the distance, but we are tired and about done with sightseeing for today. It's time to get back onboard and return to shipboard life for the rest of the day.
Dotti said, "Here let me take one of you." You can hardly see the crack I put in the lens when she snapped the picture. ☺
Okay, its blurry, and imperfect, but it was a fun picture of some people who just had a good time and are tired and ready for some relaxation.
Everything is bigger now, but that front window is so covered in water that nothing is clear, except that we are getting very close now.
I look tired, but Dotti looks like she just got her second wind. That smile says that she is ready to go have some fun!
It is noon, and we were having some fun with a statue once we got back onboard. The girls were looking mischievous, each in her own way.
We were back onboard, it was lunch time, and we could eat lunch early enough so it wouldn't mess up our evening meal, like it had for Dotti and me the day before. While we were standing in line for lunch, Jim bumped into the couple (Bob and Judy) that normally sat across from us during our evening Vista dining room meals, and they ended up joining us at the table for lunch. We had a nice visit with them as we ate. (And of course we saw them again later at dinner.) I had a salad and a turkey sandwich once again. So, it left enough room for dinner. 
We had pulled anchor at 1:08 p.m., just a few minutes before this picture was taken. We are heading out to sea, and leaving Alaska...next destination: Victoria, BC in Canada.
As the big ship cut through the waves, it didn't bounce as much as the little launch did, but it left a lot of white water behind it. The rails and the deck on our verandah were wet from the rain we had been getting all day long.
It was about 4:45 p.m. here and we were clear of the Tongass Narrows and out to sea in the Pacific. The waves were unabashedly white capped and the ship was moving accordingly. However, my stomach never complained at all. I was happy about that!
I was looking down from 100 feet or so and the waves are still looking pretty angry. Looking off in the distance there are patches of white, like you would see on a field after a snow had mostly melted away.
Generally speaking, waves are created by the motion of water across a restricted bottom. As water approaches the shore at the beach, the ground rises and the water encounters more and more friction from underneath, and the water there slows down, while the water above piles upwards on top of it. It finally reaches the break over point, where the slower water underneath is overrun and the instable structure topples forward into a breaking wave.
At sea, that is not the case. Here the wind whips the water into swells and troughs, and when the swells are high, the wind pushes them over. When the wind is really blowing, you see white whips of water being carried off from the tops of the breaking whitecaps and often carried great distances. A smooth sea on a clear day is beautiful without a doubt, but it is the angry sea that you really remember when the day is done. 
Just like a wave breaking across a rocky shore, the ship cutting through the rough sea churned the water into an angry froth. Droplets streak upwards above the chaotic boil, to be grabbed and slammed back down by gravity's irresistible force.
Everything from dark water to independent droplets being carried by the wind are visible here. The ship breaks through the surface irregularities, cutting a path and agitating the water into utter madness. The wake stretches out for miles behind the ship, and it takes some time before everything settles back down to where it was before we passed through.
The disruption caused by the wind meets the disruption caused by the ship. On the left the waves come in from the sea wind, ripples of dark and light move towards us. On the right the localized slap of the hull pushes water the opposite direction, creating a wave that is breaking to the left, with individual droplets hanging in midair as they plunge back into the endless sea.
Looking down past the deck below us, the water is being driven upwards into droplets that are being caught in the wind and turned into a fog as they are scattered behind like leaves in an autumn breeze.
Even from a hundred feet up, and looking down at it, the water is incredible to see as it us driven up into chaotic shapes, by the ship and the wind.
A final look at the sea, with the wisps of whipped water blowing back from the front wave, to the white path behind, that will turn into a wake to show where we have been.
Tonight was going to be another formal dinner and we were really looking forward to it! |
