We had wanted to do something while we were in Ketchikan since we didn’t know when we’d ever be back this way again – we’d love to, don’t get us wrong, but visiting Alaska is not cheap and that’s assuming that the current asset-stripping priorities of the cruel and selfish plutocrats and oligarchs who’ve taken over America don’t render it as too dangerous and morally unacceptable to visit as everywhere in Russia is for the foreseeable future – but we’d also wanted to make sure we had time to just spend in the city itself. So, after our short trip to look at the totem poles in Saxman we set to it.
Our vintage trolley bus dropped us off not far from where the cruise ship had now docked. If you’ve read the post where we arrive at Ketchikan then you’ll know already that we’d had to take the tender boat ashore but by this point in the day a space had opened up to berth.
Close to this point was Ketchikan’s first bronze sculpture. Called The Rock, it featured general forms of a fisherman, frontierswoman, miner, pilot, logger, and a native drummer, as well as one actual person, Chief Johnson, a chief of the Tlingit tribe.
The part of Ketchikan that’s most famous and most photographed – and this travel account of our visit is no exception – is Creek Street, and that’s where we headed.
In 1903 a local law was passed that banned brothels from Ketchikan itself, limiting them to the Indian Town area, separated from Ketchikan’s main streets by the creek that gave the city its name. A boardwalk mounted on stilts sprung up to provide the service that the prudes wanted to pretend didn’t happen (and nobody likes a woman making decisions of her own and earning money, after all), and this became Ketchikan’s red light district until the middle of the 1950s.
What we found was a delightful series of colourful, old buildings, now given over to stores or museums, all sited right next to crystal clear creek water and nestled among tall trees backed by mountains. Bald eagles soared in the air above. Absolutely lovely, and while it’s a complete tourist trap, it’s a small one and a nice one to get caught in. We walked, we shopped, we took photos.
One enchanting moment that kept us and a few dozen other tourists glued to the water’s edge for several minutes was the sight of a seal in the creek. It had a part-eaten salmon which it would occasionally gnaw at but mostly just balanced or flicked from one flipper to another while it floated on its back. Then it would occasionally let the dead fish go, wait a few seconds, then dive under the water to catch the sinking bit of play-food, and repeat the process all over again. So enjoyable, and so typical of this entire Alaskan cruise that had blown us away with the variety of wildlife and what it all got up to.
Many of the buildings in Creek Street had a history to them, and not only as brothels. Information boards were present in many locations and brought the vibrant place even more to life.
Creek Street isn’t large, and even if you stop to buy a few things like we did then you won’t likely spend too long there. When we reached the far end of it we had time enough, had we wanted to, to take in the lumberjack show that’s another popular attraction in Ketchikan. Our friends on the ship had done just that when they’d arrived on this day, and they reported back that it was a lot of fun.
As you can tell, though, we skipped that and opted to keep up our run of visiting a brewery in every port in Alaska instead. We headed to the Bawden Street Brewing Company. As we arrived we saw a police officer – armed, of course – standing and talking to a man outside next to a wooden stand with books on it and I won’t lie, that’s not the most welcoming thing to see when you’re anywhere in the world, and particularly not anywhere in America with its reputation. However, it all seemed friendly enough once we’d ventured inside, found one of the very few seats there, and started down the first of two rounds of drinks we bought.
We liked this microbrewery a lot, and it was our favourite of those visited on this cruise. This had that proper feel of a passion project in the local community rather than something more commercial, reflected in the chaotic view to the fermentation tanks and the rough-and-ready menu. Not only did we taste-test and thoroughly enjoy a few ales – including a first ever cream ale – but we also bought some merchandise from the brewery and, after a quick chat with the bloke outside, bought a book off him too: he was Jeff Lund in case you’re interested in looking him up online.
But then it was time to head back to the ship. A short walk was all it took to get us to the dockside where Koningsdam awaited and where we would board her to step off Alaskan – and American – soil for the last time on this cruise.
In the next post in this Alaska cruise travelogue series there’s one final day at sea on Koningsdam to contend with, including a second stab at speciality dining with our friends aboard that doesn’t go entirely to plan.