A random discussion with three friends of mine—our birthdates within six months of each other—produced an outlandish idea. The topic was Alaska, and what a crazy notion would it be to go there—providing we were still single by then. Further discussion yielded the point we didn’t want to be 30 on the cruise; we decided we’d go in the summer (before training camp opened) prior to commemorating the monumental “three-oh” birthdays. We had four years to save and fund-raise.
During 1993’s football season, I finished revising my first novel and decided to incorporate the Alaskan cruise as part of my celebration in honor of my signed publishing contract. I studied travel brochures.
Four years is a long time. Things happen. One friend disappeared and we lost touch… Another got herself “disqualified” as she was engaged and would be married by the time the cruise departed… The third, when asked if she still was interested in going, didn’t think I was serious and she hadn’t put away anything at all toward the adventure.
I went anyway.
Alan Renshaw used to talk about Alaska all the time when we were in middle school. He even sent me a postcard from there once. It provoked my imagination enough to make me want to see the place for myself. I flew from San Diego to Sea-Tac, where my uncle and the publisher met me on the layover before I continued to Anchorage. I delivered a box containing a copy of the second Shadowcreek Chronicles manuscript, “Matter of Trust.”
As I stood on the deck, watching the buzz of activity preparing to sail from Seward, my heart and stomach gave a little lurch as the cruise ship separated from the dock. It was still bright sunlight at 11:00 p.m., and I was there!
I had no idea where Alan was that June, but I laughed at myself, convinced he would have gotten a kick out of knowing I actually followed through on the plan. I said a prayer of thanksgiving for having made it that far, under God’s merciful protection.
The sights and sites were majestic. My pictures did not come close to doing justice to the natural beauty. The 7-day “Voyage of the Glaciers” in the Gulf of Alaska included ports of call at Skagway, Juneau, and Ketchikan after College Fjord and Glacier Bay. Skagway was my favorite because there was so much history (but not enough time), and I learned the tale of the C.S.S. Shenandoah and its crew at the end of the Civil War. That conflict was felt all the way to Alaska! Who knew? Sailing south along in Inner Passage, two memorable things transpired onboard: I met a Green Bay Packers QB on an elevator while I was lost, and the newscasts covered a police chase with a white Ford Bronco.
In my 29th summer, I checked off Alaska, but ten years later I added it to my “Wish to Go Back Again” list.
