Four Hours in Ketchikan

Daveen and I love to enjoy cruises together, but for the past year and a half the pandemic has turned us into homebodies. At the end of July we were finally able to embark on an Alaskan cruise. Our cruise ship, with 1,200 passengers, was only 60% occupied, because COVID-19 still rules the seas (even more than the land).

We walked off the ship in Ketchikan, Alaska, and headed for the Lumberjack show that we had attended on a previous visit.  Chopping logs, climbing tall poles, a log rolling contest with the loser falling into cold water – all were entertaining, as before.

But for the past 21 months not a single cruise ship has brought potential patrons to the local shops and restaurants. That is, until yesterday when six hundred tourists, the first to arrive in almost two years, visited the town (which itself has a population of only 8,284).

As we were walking through one large shop I overheard another passenger ask the young sales clerk, “How’s business?”

“Slow,” she said, then hastened to add, “But it’s picking up.  It’s better today than yesterday.”

Thankfully, Daveen and I are beyond our years of accumulating stuff.  Even so, we bought a few items for gifts, to help the local economy.

“Let’s have lunch,” I said to Daveen as we walked past a cafe.

“For the food, or to help them out?” Daveen asked, already knowing the answer.

I left a substantial tip.  Daveen noticed that the young man who waited on our table was carefully sheltering his left hand that had a tremor.

I felt increasingly sad as we walked around the largely empty town on a day that should have been their peak season, with more tourists than residents.  Even the local busses seemed to have few, if any, passengers.

If you have the time, and money for a few purchases, please visit Ketchikan. I would feel better.

At times our lives depend upon hope.  Sometimes that’s all we have – hope, and each other.

Alan