Totem Poles, Eagles and Touch Tanks : Sitka, AK

“Alaska isn’t about who you were when you headed this way. It’s about who you become.”

Kristin Hannah

Morning Approach to Sitka

With the Hubbard Glacier behind us at noon yesterday, the journey had made the turn southward. Only two stops remained before the journey would come to an end - Sitka, Alaska, and later Victoria in British Columbia. It is always a slightly melancholy realization when a voyage reaches this stage. What had seemed, only days earlier, like a 10-day voyage with infinite possibilities ahead of us has sped up toward the inevitable return home.

After spending much of the previous evening moving slowly through the open waters of the North Pacific, we woke early as Queen Elizabeth approached Sitka Sound. The ship was already threading its way through the outer islands that shelter the town, navigating between scattered forested shorelines and rocky outcrops rising just above the grey water.

As seems the norm in Alaska, the landscapes around us revealed themselves amid foggy layers. Coastal hills and distant mountains appeared in soft bands of blue and grey, their outlines shifting constantly as low clouds drifted across the peaks. In places, the fog settled along the slopes, briefly erasing entire ridges before revealing them again moments later. Between the larger islands, smaller rocky islets appeared - dark patches of stone and spruce surrounded by ribbons of kelp drifting on the surface.

Wildlife was never far from view. Gulls circled the ship and repeatedly dropped to the water, rising again with small fish clasped in their beaks. Then, not long afterward, we spotted the whales.

Several times dark backs rolled slowly through the water not far from the ship. Curved dorsal fins appeared briefly before slipping beneath the surface again. From the shape of the fins and the long arch of the backs, we suspected they were humpback whales, and at least two seemed to be travelling together. One surfaced close enough for us to notice a torn and ragged edge along its tail flukes before it disappeared again beneath the grey water.

Unlike our earlier ports, Queen Elizabeth would not be docking directly in the centre of town. Instead, the ship was scheduled to tie up at a pier located some distance outside Sitka itself - a practical decision that likely helps keep heavy cruise traffic away from the historic waterfront.

From the upper decks, the pier initially looked surprisingly slight, a narrow line extending out into the water from the forested shoreline. As we drew closer, it became clear that appearances were deceiving. The structure was modern and substantial, designed to accommodate ships far larger than those that once anchored in Sitka’s sheltered harbour.

Behind the dock sat a welcoming visitor centre that serves as the arrival point for most cruise passengers. A handful of Alaska souvenir shops lined the building, and it was here that passengers gathered for organized excursions. For those exploring independently, a complimentary shuttle bus was available nearby to carry visitors into downtown Sitka.

Breakfast and the Daily Program

With Queen Elizabeth now securely alongside the pier, we stepped back indoors to warm up. The cool morning air outside had settled into our jackets and hands, and the warmth of the ship felt welcome after the long stretch spent watching the approach into Sitka Sound. Breakfast in the Lido was simple and familiar – a bowl of Swiss muesli, a bowl of fruit, and several much-needed cups of coffee. Before leaving, we also picked up a couple of cookies for later in the day, a small habit that has served us well on many journeys when lunch plans remain uncertain.

While eating, we unfolded the ship’s daily program to see what the morning held. The “Notes from the Navigator” offered a short introduction to Sitka, describing the town as one of Alaska’s more picturesque ports. Located on the eastern coast of Baranof Island, the community sits surrounded by forested islands and backed by distant mountains. The notes also highlighted the layers of history that have shaped the town - from the long presence of the Tlingit people to the later Russian and American influences that still appear in Sitka’s architecture, culture, and place names.

As always, the program also listed the day’s organized excursions. Among the options were wildlife-focused outings such as visits to Fortress of the Bear, ocean rafting expeditions through nearby waters, and wilderness adventures designed to explore the surrounding forests and coastline.

In addition, and as usual, there were also a number of on board activities scheduled for those either not going ashore or those who might return earlier in the day. These included:

6:00 AM Good Morning Queen Elizabeth - Stateroom TV
3:00 PM Afternoon Tea with Guitarist Brian Moore - Queen’s Room
4:00 PM Up Close with Naturalist, Dr. Rachel Cartwright - Commodore Club
8:45 PM Soul & Motown - Queen’s Room
10:00 PM Roy G Hemmings Show - Royal Court Theatre

According to the nature notes included in the day’s program, Sitka sits in the middle of one of Southeast Alaska’s richest wildlife regions. The protected waters of Sitka Sound support thriving populations of sea otters, while the surrounding coastline and islands provide habitat for a remarkable diversity of seabirds. For those interested in exploring the area more closely, the notes suggested sea kayaking through the sheltered waters or walking the Totem Trail within Sitka National Historical Park. Further out toward the mouth of the sound lie the St. Lazaria Islands, a chain of rugged rocky outcrops that serve as an important nesting site for seabirds throughout the summer. Petrels, kittiwakes, murres, and tufted puffins all gather there in large numbers, making the islands a well-known destination for birders and wildlife enthusiasts.

Docking outside of Sitka

With our jackets zipped and day packs in hand, we scanned off Queen Elizabeth and stepped ashore. The path from the pier led directly through the small tourism centre before emerging at a covered shuttle stop just beyond the dock. Because the ship was berthed several kilometres outside town, shuttle buses ran continuously between the terminal and downtown Sitka.

 After a short wait, we climbed aboard one of the buses, settling into comfortable seats for the quick ride into town. The driver proved to be an enthusiastic guide, narrating the journey with a mixture of humour and local pride that quickly turned the short trip into an unexpectedly entertaining introduction to Sitka.

As the road wound along the shoreline, we began to understand why the town is so often described as one of Alaska’s most beautiful communities. Sitka sits on the western coast of Baranof Island, surrounded by forested mountains and sheltered waters that form one of the most protected natural harbours along Alaska’s outer coast.

The town’s history, however, is as complex as its setting. Long before Russian traders arrived, this region was home to the Tlingit people, whose presence still shapes the cultural landscape of the area today. Russian influence began at the end of the eighteenth century when Alexander Baranof, manager of the Russian-American Company, established a trading post nearby in 1799. Tensions between the Russian traders and the Tlingit eventually led to the Battle of Sitka in 1804 - the last major armed conflict between the two groups.

By 1808, Sitka had become the capital of Russian America, a role it would hold until Alaska was sold to the United States in 1867. It was here that the American flag was first raised following the transfer of the territory negotiated by U.S. Secretary of State William H. Seward.

Even today, traces of these histories remain visible throughout the town. Onion-domed churches and Russian-era cemeteries stand not far from Tlingit clan totem poles, while American influences have gradually filled in the spaces between. For much of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Sitka’s economy revolved around salmon fishing and fish processing, though the town later expanded into pulp milling before that industry closed in the early 1990s.

When Alaska’s territorial capital was eventually moved to Juneau in 1906 - largely because the Klondike Gold Rush had shifted the region’s economic centre northward to Juneau - Sitka entered a quieter phase of its history. The town centre is compact and easily walkable, and – as we quickly discovered - it was not unusual to see bald eagles perched on lampposts, rooftops, or tree branches overlooking the harbour.

As a quirky aside, for those who have seen the movie The Proposal with Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds, might recognize some of the landscapes, though much of the movie was filmed in other locations

Sitka Harbour Walk

When the shuttle dropped us near the harbour, we found ourselves standing in the heart of a small coastal town that, at first glance, felt surprisingly familiar. Sitka’s waterfront - with its low-set buildings and beautiful shoreline - reminded us a little of Gibsons or Sechelt back home on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia. Colourful structures lined the water, fishing boats and sailboats filled the marina, and beyond them, forested hills rose quietly into the fog.

Unsure which direction to explore first, we decided to walk away from the centre of town while the weather held, saving museums or indoor spaces for later in case the rain returned.

The path followed the shoreline past the marina, where rows of sailboats rocked in their slips. It was a peaceful stretch of coast and a nice trail. The tidal waters had dropped since we had docked, exposing bands of intertidal rock and seaweed along the edge of Crescent Bay. Out on the flats, we watched both great blue herons and bald eagles moving slowly across the exposed shoreline, probing the shallows for fish and small crabs.

Beyond them and across the harbour waters, the surrounding islands continued to appear and disappear in shifting bands of fog. The forested slopes beyond the bay faded gradually into layers of grey and blue, the outlines of distant hills constantly changing as the clouds moved through.

Walking along the waterfront also revealed something else about Sitka. Like many small communities that receive cruise ships and that we have visited on this journey, the presence of visitors is not universally welcomed. As we passed through a residential stretch of road, two local residents made their displeasure clear. One crossed the street to avoid the arriving passengers altogether, refusing to acknowledge anyone from the ship as she walked her dog. Another muttered loudly and spat toward the ground as several people walked past.

It was an uncomfortable moment, but also an understandable one. For residents of a town this size, the arrival of a constant stream of cruise ships can mean several thousand people suddenly appearing regularly in their community for a few hours. If you had chosen to live somewhere like Sitka precisely because of its distance from modern crowds, the seasonal influx must sometimes feel overwhelming.

The debates about modern tourism on this voyage have given us a great deal to think about.

Continuing along the shoreline trail, the tensions faded again into coastal scenery. Partway along the path, we came upon the Elbridge Merrill Memorial beside the water’s edge before stepping into Sitka National Historic Park.

Sitka National Historical Park

Not far from the waterfront, the trail gradually led us into the quiet forests of Sitka National Historical Park. At just over one hundred acres, it is considered Alaska’s smallest national park, yet stepping beneath the trees, it immediately felt far larger.

A wide gravel pathway wound through dense coastal rainforest, following the shoreline in gentle loops beneath towering spruce and western hemlock. The forest floor was thick with moss and ferns, and the air carried that cool, damp scent so familiar along the Pacific coast. Once again, we were reminded of trails at home that wove through the old-growth forests of the Sunshine Coast.

Along the main trail runs Sitka’s famous Totem Trail, a mile-long path where a series of towering Tlingit totem poles rise among the trees. Their carved figures - animals, spirits, and ancestral beings - stand quietly along the forest edge, telling stories that long predate the arrival of Europeans to these shores.

The park itself also marks the site of one of Alaska’s most significant historical encounters. It was here that Russian forces and Tlingit defenders clashed during the early nineteenth century, part of a broader struggle for control of the region following the establishment of a Russian trading post nearby in the late 1700s. Walking through the forest today, however, the landscape bears no sense of having been a battlefield.

Indigenous traditions, Russian colonial ambitions, American expansion, and the natural rhythms of the coast have all left their mark here. In that sense, the park feels like a place that has been constantly renegotiated over time - between cultures, between people and landscape, and between land and sea.

Nature and Birds in Sitka

Beyond this park’s histories was the life in the river, in the trees, and along the coastline.

Near the tidal edge, bald eagles perched in the surrounding trees, occasionally lifting off to circle above the shoreline before settling again among the branches. Along the nearby river, salmon filled the water in astonishing numbers.  As a dipper watched them from the rocks, we could see thousands of fish glittering beneath the surface as they pushed upstream, their bodies flashing silver in the filtered light.

It was a remarkable sight, particularly given how many salmon runs along the Pacific coast have struggled in recent decades. Watching these fish surge through the river made it easy to understand how deeply entire ecosystems depend on their return. Salmon feed not only local communities but also eagles, seals, bears, and whales, linking ocean and forest in dynamic ways.

Interpretive signs throughout the park noted that several species migrate through these waters, including Chinook (king), Coho (silver), Chum (dog), and Pink (humpy) salmon. Their presence drew a steady gathering of birds along the banks - crows, gulls, and sandpipers moving through the shallows while eagles waited patiently above.

 

As we wandered deeper into the park, following different loops and branches of the trail, we found ourselves lingering over the details of the forest itself. The enormous leaves, the deep textures of rain-darkened wood, and the intricate patterns of mosses and fungi covering fallen logs all seemed enhanced by the damp coastal air and persistent fog.

More simply put, it was easy to feel relaxed and to lose track of time walking here.

Alaska Raptor Centre

Not far from the forest trails of Sitka National Historical Park, we came across another place devoted to the wildlife of the region - the Alaska Raptor Center.

Established in 1980, the facility serves as a rehabilitation centre for injured birds of prey from across Alaska. Eagles, hawks, owls, and other raptors are brought here when they have been injured or become unable to survive in the wild. Many are eventually released once they recover, while others remain permanent residents because their injuries prevent them from returning to life outside the centre.

The visit offered a rare opportunity to observe these remarkable birds up close while also maintaining a respectful distance.

In outdoor enclosures, several recovering raptors perched quietly on branches or platforms, their powerful forms only a few metres away. Bald eagles in particular dominated the space, their immense wings and sharp yellow beaks a reminder of just how formidable these birds are in the wild. Having spent the morning watching eagles circling above the coast and the salmon-filled river, it was striking to now stand close enough to see the intricate layering of their feathers and the sheer intelligence and intensity of their gaze.

Owls occupied other enclosures nearby, their wide golden eyes watching visitors with that calm, alert stillness so characteristic of the species. The contrast between the snowy white plumage of one owl and the mottled patterns of another highlighted just how diverse northern raptors can be.

One particularly interesting display recreated a full bald eagle nest, illustrating the extraordinary size these structures can reach when used and expanded year after year by the same breeding pair.

Beyond the main viewing area, a short forested trail wound along a nearby stream. Once again, we found ourselves surrounded by the lush coastal rainforest. Here moss-covered, towering spruce and hemlock, and enormous clusters of fungi spread across the damp forest floor.

Places like the Alaska Raptor Center occupy a unique space between science, conservation, and public education. Facilities such as this allow injured wildlife to recover while also helping visitors better understand the challenges facing many species today. As such, before leaving, we made sure to add a small donation alongside the admission fee. Supporting places that combine rehabilitation, citizen science, and education feels like one of the most meaningful ways travellers can contribute to the protection of the landscapes and wildlife they come to experience.

Sitka Sound Science Center

Not quite ready to return to the ship, we followed the coastal path back toward town. The trail eventually led us to another place devoted to understanding the region’s remarkable ecosystems - the Sitka Sound Science Center. Inside, we paid a small admission fee and stepped into what may well be one of the most exciting rooms imaginable: a hall filled with touch tanks, which in my opinion, are one of the best things any centre like this can have!

Now, before going any further, I should probably confess something. Although I eventually became an ornithologist, my earliest dream as a teenager had actually been to become a marine biologist. At the time, I imagined a life spent swimming with dolphins and whales, studying coral reefs, and snorkelling through brilliant underwater landscapes. Those dreams may have changed direction over the years - but moments like this still bring them rushing back.

The touch tanks allowed visitors to circulate around a series of open aquaria filled with marine life from the surrounding waters of Sitka Sound. Staff encouraged us to gently place cleaned fingers into the tanks, allowing the animals to explore us just as much as we explored them.

Urchins shifted their spines slowly in response to movement. Sea anemones waved delicate tentacles in the current before curling inward when touched. Hermit crabs scurried between rocks, occasionally disappearing deep inside their borrowed shells. Jellyfish pulsed rhythmically through the water, their ghostly forms drifting under the tank lights.

The variety was astonishing: sea stars, sea cucumbers, sea snails, crabs, anemones, urchins, and countless other creatures that normally remain hidden beneath the cold waters of the North Pacific.

One of the most fascinating sensations was allowing an anemone’s long, sticky tentacles to gently wrap around a fingertip. It was strange, slightly ticklish, and oddly mesmerizing all at once - a small reminder of how wonder, how alien, and how complex marine life can be.

I have to admit that if the center had offered volunteer positions on the spot, I might easily have sent Sean back to the ship to collect my luggage while I stayed behind in Sitka. Places like this have a way of awakening the curiosity about the natural world that many first felt as children.

Outside the building, another small scene of scientific work was unfolding. Several young researchers were conducting a salmon survey along a nearby stream, carefully handling fish and collecting eggs as part of what appeared to be a hatchery or stock enhancement program. It was another reminder that Sitka’s connection to the sea is from salmon to seabirds to the complex ecosystems of the intertidal zone.

By the time we finally left the science center, it was clear that Sitka had offered far more than just another cruise port. In a single afternoon, we had wandered through coastal rainforest, watched salmon crowd a river, stood face-to-face with birds of prey, and explored the strange and beautiful world hidden beneath the ocean’s surface.

It was safe to say that I think Sitka is pretty amazing!

Russian Orthodox Cathedral

With some time still remaining before the final shuttle buses returned to the ship, we wandered through the streets of downtown Sitka. One building we particularly wanted to see was St. Michael the Archangel Orthodox Cathedral, which is a striking wooden church that stands as one of the most visible reminders of Sitka’s Russian past. Its exterior is painted a deep blue, and the building is topped with two steeples and a central onion-shaped dome. As such, the cathedral immediately stands out in Sitka as well as among the surrounding landscapes.

The original church was constructed in 1848, making it the first Russian Orthodox cathedral built in what was then considered the “New World.” During the period when Sitka served as the capital of Russian Alaska, the cathedral was an important religious and cultural center for the settlement. Recognizing its historical importance, the structure was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1962. Unfortunately, tragedy struck only a few years later. On January 2, 1966, a devastating fire destroyed the building and many of its historic artifacts.

Yet the loss did not mark the end of the cathedral’s story. Wonderfully, the community rallied together, raising funds to rebuild the church using its original architectural plans. Today, the reconstructed cathedral stands almost exactly as it once did, complete with its distinctive dome and steeple - a reminder of the Russian influence that is a part of this region.

Unfortunately, our timing was slightly off. As we approached the entrance, an extraordinarily polite young man stepped forward from the doorway. Somewhat shyly, he explained that the cathedral was about to close and that they were no longer admitting visitors for the day. We thanked him and stepped back out onto the quiet streets of Sitka, content to have had the opportunity to simply see the building from the outside before making our way toward the shuttle buses and the waiting Queen Elizabeth.

Return to Queen Elizabeth

With the skies beginning to cloud over and our legs finally reminding us how many hours we had spent walking, we caught the complimentary shuttle bus back toward Queen Elizabeth. By this point, we had been exploring Sitka for nearly six hours, and the promise of a short rest back on board was becoming increasingly appealing.

As the bus wove back to the ship, the fog that had lingered offshore earlier in the day seemed to be rolling back again.

After crossing through the small tourism terminal, we paused on the pier for a moment, scanning the waters of Sitka Sound. Not far from the ship, a pair of large shapes moved through the grey surface of the harbour. At first, it was difficult to tell exactly what we were seeing, but through our binoculars the animals resolved into Steller sea lions, their massive bodies rolling and twisting through the water as they played - or perhaps argued – or were enamoured with one another. Regardless, they were just beyond the reach of our cameras for a good picture.

While we watched, a small whale-watching boat idled a short distance away. Suddenly, two whales surfaced nearby, sending brief plumes of mist into the damp air. Moments later, one of them lifted its tail high above the water and slammed it down with a tremendous crack that echoed across the harbour. Then both whales arose and repeated the slapping of their tails. Then they did it again….and again. Neither of us had seen anything like this.

As it turns out, this behaviour is known as “lobtailing” and is sometimes interpreted as play or communication between animals, though it can also signal agitation or an attempt to warn something away. Whatever the cause, seeing such power expressed so suddenly was startling. Each impact carried across the water with a force that seemed disproportionate to the calm surface of the waters around us. It was also a reminder of the immense strength of creatures far larger than ourselves.

With the fog growing steadily thicker, we finally stepped up the gangway, scanned our identification cards, and passed through security before returning briefly to our cabin to add another layer against the cooling air. As it turned out, the sea lions and the whales would be our final clear sights of Sitka. The fog had begun to swallow the surrounding islands, leaving wildlife - rather than landscape - as our last memory of this remarkable place.

Sail Away into the Fog

Back on board, it was not long before departure announcements echoed across the ship. Lines were cast off, and Queen Elizabeth slowly began to pull away from the dock.

 

By this point, the small islands scattered across Sitka Sound had become little more than faint silhouettes in the fog. The surrounding mountains were almost entirely hidden, leaving only shifting shadows along the horizon. Watching the ship carefully thread its way through these muted shapes made us grateful for skilled navigation teams and modern instruments guiding the vessel through the narrowing channels.

We settled onto a sheltered spot on deck, each with a bottle of beer from Haines Brewing Company - I chose a Lookout Stout while Sean opted for Captain Cook’s Spruce Tip Ale. Standing there in the damp evening air, we watched as the outlines of Sitka slowly dissolved behind us.

On a clear evening, this sail-away would likely have been spectacular. The protected waters of Sitka Sound and the volcanic cone of Mount Edgecumbe are said to create one of the most beautiful departures along the Alaskan coast. Instead, we drifted quietly through a world of fog, the surrounding islands appearing and disappearing like distant ghosts.

As Queen Elizabeth eventually moved beyond the shelter of Sitka Sound and back into the open waters of the North Pacific and the Gulf of Alaska, the motion of the ship became noticeably stronger. The calm harbour waters gave way to the slow rolling rhythm of the ocean once again.

After about an hour on deck, the cold air, fading light, and steadily thickening fog finally convinced us to retreat back inside.

Evening on Queen Elizabeth

After spending most of the day exploring Sitka, we returned to the ship tired, though also excited. Before heading back to our cabin, we stopped briefly at the library and picked up the ship’s daily crossword puzzle - a small habit we have on board during a voyage.

Back in the cabin, we worked through the puzzle while showering and getting ready for the evening. Eventually, we changed for dinner: I slipped into a light dress while Sean opted for black dress pants, a collared shirt, a tie, and a vest. Refreshed and ready for the evening, we stepped out once again into the ship’s central atrium.

Unexpected Dinner Chaos

That evening, as thick fog, cold air and night settled in, we decided to try dining in the Britannia Restaurant. Surprisingly, despite being several days into the voyage, we had eaten only one breakfast there. On our previous crossings aboard Queen Mary 2, we had taken most of our meals in Britannia, but during this Alaska voyage, we often found ourselves staying on deck watching the scenery or grabbing quick meals in the Lido buffet between ports and wildlife sightings.

Tonight seemed like a good opportunity to finally sit down for dinner. The line moved quickly, and within a few minutes, a server escorted us into the restaurant. What followed, however, turned into one of the more unusual dining experiences we have had on any Cunard ship.

Our server circled the room twice, looking for the assigned table. On his third attempt, he guided us toward a table that was already fully occupied by a group of ten passengers and attempted to squeeze two additional chairs into the remaining space. A move that shocked everyone already seated.

For several awkward moments, we found ourselves wedged between strangers. A waiter retrieved extra plates and cutlery from a nearby empty table and handed them to us, which, for the first few moments, we had to keep in our laps as there was simply no room at the already full table. Around us were a number of empty tables for both 2 people and for 4 people, making the situation even more absurd.

After a few minutes like this, the heat in the room and closeness of other people at the table eventually led us to say our goodnights and step back out of the dining room.  We have noticed this often on this voyage that the ship's temperature has been set extremely high, which has made evenings indoors a bit of a challenge for us.  

When we asked at the front desk if another seating might be possible, the maître d’ checked the system and explained that we had already been recorded as seated and served. From the computer’s perspective, it seemed we had already had dinner.

With that, Britannia was not to be our dining venue that evening.

Stepping outside onto the open deck felt immediately refreshing. The restaurant had been extremely warm, and the cool, damp air of the evening quickly restored our sense of humour about the whole situation. Our clothes were damp from the heat of the room, so we returned briefly to the cabin to change.

A Quiet Night in the Commodore Club

A few cookies from the Lido buffet and a visit to the Commodore Club proved to be a far better end to the day.

The servers there greeted us warmly (as usual) and placed a generous bowl of bar snacks on the table beside our drinks - a small gesture that, after the earlier dining adventure, meant more than they could have known.  I think that I could have personally eaten 4 or 5 bowls of snacks at that point. 

The atmosphere in the lounge felt noticeably different that evening. Conversations were quieter, and many passengers sat simply watching the darkness outside the windows. The excitement that had accompanied the early days of the voyage seemed to have shifted.  Perhaps it was because we all knew what lay ahead. Our next port of call would be Victoria, British Columbia, the provincial capital and our final stop before the voyage ended.

Even the crew seemed aware of the change in rhythm. Snippets of conversation drifted through the room about supplies needing to be restocked and preparations underway for the ship’s next sailing. The voyage had clearly entered its final phase.

Southward

Later, after evening, during turndown service, we found a small stack of documents waiting in the cabin: customs declaration forms, advertisements for the official Alaskan voyage film, order forms for Cunard voyage maps and souvenirs, and luggage tags for the journey home. Each item was another reminder that our time on board was drawing to a close.

Overnight, Queen Elizabeth would continue southward through the Pacific waters west of Prince of Wales Island, eventually passing the distant coasts of Haida Gwaii and Vancouver Island before reaching Victoria. With luck, the weather tomorrow might be clear enough for us to see these coastlines.

For now, however, we simply sat quietly for the night, listening to the low rhythm of the ship moving through the dark waters of the North Pacific. 

See you on board!

Nautical Term of the Day - Dutch Courage - British sailors in the 1600s noted that Dutch crews drank gin before battle. The phrase - originally disparaging - now simply means bravery sparked by alcohol.