Day One: Our First Cruise

Right this minute, turquoise chunks of the Hubbard Glacier — some the size of Volkswagons — are drifting languidly past my stateroom window.

We are onboard a mid-shized Holland America vessel called the Volendam. This is our first trip to Alaska. It is also our first cruise, a fact most people find remarkable, given our passion for globe trotting. Fact is, we’ve always been wary of cruises, and we have always imagined that cruising would amount to being imprisoned in a vast, floating mall with a thousand or so octogenarians.

But when Clyde found outside staterooms for less than five hundred bucks for the week, we decided it was time for us to set aside our prejudices and get some first-hand experience with cruises.

After flying out of Jackson, we arrived in Anchorage at 8:00 p.m. local time. By the time we collected our luggage and met our hotel shuttle, it was almost nine. Even so, the sun was impossibly high in the sky … and soon, we discovered that, at this time of year, the sun sets in Anchorage about fifteen minutes before midnight. The result? The afternoon stretches on forever, lasting well beyond dinner and into the night.

Despite the bright sunshine, the local shops were closed by the time we hit the town, so we went directly to our rooms at the Dimond Center Hotel. Our suite was spacious and comfortable; unfortunately, the windows were covered with nothing more than thin fabric curtains. When the sun sets at midnight, blackout curtains ought to be standard issue for Anchorage hotels, don’t you think?

The sun rose at 4:00 a.m., and we were up two hours later to catch the train into Seward. For those of you who might not know: when cruise lines advertise departures from Anchorage, the ships really depart from Seward or Whittier — two towns that are two to four hours away (depending on whether you take a bus or a train to get there). This isn’t a big deal, once you’re aware of it, and, if you buy a transport package from your cruise line, your transfers (and even your hotel) are usually part of your package.

If you tend — as we do — to make your own reservations and transfers, just be prepared for a lot of monkey business: catching hotel shuttles, transferring your bags to the train, and then — and this is the biggie — transferring your bags from the train depot in Seward to the cruise ships. A hint to the wise: instead of walking more than a half-mile with your bags from the depot to the boat, take the local trolley. For five bucks, it’ll take you right to the docks; for fifteen, you can ride it around town all day long.

After checking our bags, we took the trolley into Seward, where the action is pretty much confined to one strip of local businesses on the town’s main drag. Things were touristy here, but not terribly so … and, though the businesses clearly depend on the boats for their customers, most of the restaurants still retain a hometown charm.

Two spots worth noting, if you’re Seward-bound: I am delighted to report that the Apollo Restaurant in Seward serves the world’s fourth-best pizza: an "Alaskan hand-tossed Sicilian" topped with generous portions of fresh chopped tomato, pepperoni, sausage, ham, olives, peppers, and onions. The crust is amazingly light and crisp, and even Clyde agreed that the pizza was one of the best he’s ever had. How good is it? I may go on another Alaskan cruise just to eat here again!

Also: don’t miss the small-batch gelato at Sweet Darling’s chocolate shop on the main drag. The chocolates here recently took a gold award in a candy-making competition — but all I can personally testify for is the splendor of the light, fresh double chocolate gelato they serve up in generous scoops in back.

After an afternoon in town, we boarded the Volendam, and, apparently because we were not with a large group, found ourselves wandering the ship on our own, desperately looking for our stateroom. By the time we found it, our luggage had arrived; minutes later, we were unpacked.

After a little exploring, we joined several fascinating tablemates for dinner in the Rotterdam dining room (good food, reasonable portions, and extremely pleasant company). By the time we took in the comedian’s performance in the ship’s theatre, we were ready to hit the sack — which we did, even though the sun was still sailing far above the horizon. (Unlike our hotel in Anchorage, our ship does, in fact, supply blackout drapes.)