Welcome to Alaska : Ketchikan, AK

“For sheer majestic geography and sublime scale, nothing beats Alaska and the Yukon.”

Sam Abell

Morning approach to Ketchikan

After a full day at sea in the waters of Canada’s Inside Passage, Queen Elizabeth crossed into the coastal waters of southeast Alaska during the night.

This region, often referred to as the Alaskan Panhandle, forms a narrow ribbon of land stretching northward between the Pacific Ocean and the coastal mountains that rise along the border between Canada and the United States. Hundreds of islands scatter the surrounding waters, forming the Alexander Archipelago, while much of the landscape itself lies within the immense Tongass National Forest - the largest national forest in the United States.

For much of its early history, this remote corner of North America was shaped by forces far beyond its shores. Russia controlled Alaska following the arrival of Vitus Bering in 1741 until the territory was purchased by the United States on October 18, 1867.

For us, however, the morning began not with history but with fog.

As Queen Elizabeth approached the harbour at Ketchikan, the ship slipped into a dense grey mist that seemed to erase the horizon entirely. The water around us lay perfectly still, reflecting the heavy sky above so completely that it lost any clear sense of colour. Neither green nor blue, the sea simply mirrored the soft grey atmosphere of the morning.

Gradually, the landscape began to reveal itself in shifting layers of mist.

First came faint outlines of coastline emerging from the fog - narrow spits of rock, dark rows of evergreen trees, and the indistinct shapes of hills rising beyond them. These forms appeared and disappeared moment by moment as the ship moved forward, the mist briefly parting before closing again behind us. It is exactly the kind of weather we love. In conditions like these, the world feels quieter and more mysterious.  Details appeared and disappeared from moment to moment.

Then, along the water’s edge, the colourful buildings of Ketchikan emerged from the mist. A compact community where rows of shops lined the harbour, squeezed between the steep forested mountains rising behind the town and the sheltered waters in front.

The effect reminded us immediately of the “jellybean houses” of St. John’s, Newfoundland, where brightly coloured homes cling to the steep hills above the Atlantic. Here in Alaska, the same palette of reds, yellows, and blues appeared even more striking against the surrounding greens of the rainforest and the pale grey fog drifting across the harbour.

As Queen Elizabeth threaded carefully past rocky outcrops and narrow stretches of shoreline, it became clear how closely the town itself was tied to the water. Much of Ketchikan’s waterfront rests on piers extending out over the harbour, the buildings appearing almost to float above the tide.

With the fog still hanging low around the surrounding mountains, the scene felt less like a conventional port arrival and more like entering a quiet coastal village suspended between forest, sea, and mist.

Docking in Ketchikan

As the morning fog continued to drift across the harbour, Queen Elizabeth eased slowly toward the docks at Ketchikan. Even before we reached the pier, it became clear that we were not the only visitors arriving that morning. The harbour was already busy with ships. Nearby, the massive blue hull of Celebrity Edge loomed against the grey water, while farther out, another cruise ship bearing the distinctive red funnel of Carnival waited at anchor.

Beneath these massive vessels, Ketchikan felt like a small coastal town rather than a major cruise destination. The waterfront appeared crowded but compact, with docks, piers, and narrow stretches of shoreline squeezed between the water and the dense forest climbing the surrounding hills.

Just beside the cruise pier sat a busy local marina, where dozens of small fishing boats and sailboats were packed together between tall pilings. Their masts formed a forest of vertical lines rising into the fog. Out in the harbour, small boats moved steadily through the mist, leaving faint wakes behind them. In the distance, a floatplane skimmed across the water before lifting off toward the surrounding mountains, a reminder that in this part of Alaska, the sea often serves as the region’s most practical runway.

Gradually, the ship drew closer to the pier. From the decks, we watched as crew members prepared the lines while dock workers stood ready below. With practiced precision, the first heavy mooring ropes were thrown ashore and secured to the bollards along the dock. Slowly, the ship tightened against the pier as additional lines were fastened into place. Within minutes, the final preparations were underway. The gangway was lowered toward the dock, and the quiet murmur of passengers gathering to go ashore began to ripple through the decks.

We had arrived in Ketchikan.

Daily Program and Notes from the Navigator

Docked, we took the opportunity to grab a quick breakfast in the Lido. Here we each enjoyed a cup of coffee along with veggie omelettes to provide us with energy for the day’s exploration. We also took a few minutes to read the Daily Program, which today was aptly named - In the port of Ketchikan, Alaska, USA.

The description painted Ketchikan as compact but busy - three miles long, alive with fishing boats, floatplanes, and a working waterfront shaped as much by its Indigenous history as by its fishing industry. Totem poles, Creek Street, and the nearby Misty Fjords were all noted as highlights. It was the kind of overview that suggested both culture and wilderness, layered closely together in a place small enough to walk.

In addition to this grounding information, the Notes from the Navigator also listed the potential excursions for the day in port. As with most cruise ports, the options covered a wide range of experiences designed to showcase the surrounding landscapes and local culture. Some focused on wildlife and scenery, including excursions to nearby totem parks and eagle habitats or boat trips into the dramatic granite fjords of the Misty Fjords National Monument. Others leaned more toward adventure. Passengers could spend the morning flying through the rainforest canopy on a zipline course, crossing suspension bridges high above the forest floor, or even descending by rappel from platforms suspended among the trees.

For those interested in Alaska’s maritime traditions, there were also excursions centred around seafood and fishing culture, including a visit to the Silverking Lodge for a seafood feast following a wilderness cruise. And for something a little more theatrical, the town’s famous Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show promised an enthusiastic display of axe throwing, log rolling, and other competitions drawn from the region’s logging heritage.

As we scanned the list that morning, however, it quickly became clear that none of them were quite what we had in mind. After a day spent watching whales and seabirds from the decks of Queen Elizabeth, we found ourselves far more interested in simply stepping ashore and exploring Ketchikan at our own pace.

In addition to the available port excursions, the program also listed potential on-board activities for the day:

3:00 PM Up Close with Naturalist Dr Rachel Cartwright - Commodore Club
5:00 PM EOS String Trio - Grand Lobby
8:45 PM Chilled Beats - Yacht Club
10:45 PM Piano Entertainer Ian Turner - Commodore Club

Port of Ketchikan

Before stepping ashore it is worth pausing for a moment to understand the place we had just arrived in.

Ketchikan sits along the southwestern coast of Revillagigedo Island, facing the sheltered waters of the Tongass Narrows. The narrow channel forms part of the Inside Passage, a protected corridor of islands and waterways that has long served as one of the principal maritime routes along the coast of Southeast Alaska. The town itself stretches along a thin ribbon of land between the forested mountains and the sea, a geography that explains much about both its history and its appearance.

The name Ketchikan is derived from the Tlingit word Kitschk-Hin, often translated as “spread wings of a prostrate eagle.” The reference likely describes the shape of Ketchikan Creek as it fans outward toward the sea. Long before the arrival of Russians or Europeans, this creek was an important seasonal fishing site for the Tlingit people, whose camps lined its banks during the salmon runs that filled these waters each year. Ketchikan Creek still flows directly through the centre of town today, emptying into the Tongass Narrows only a short distance from where our ship had docked. For generations, the creek and the surrounding waters sustained the communities that lived here, and even now the presence of salmon continues to shape the identity of the region.

The first non-Indigenous settlement began in the late nineteenth century when prospectors searching the surrounding mountains for mineral deposits established small camps along the shore. Not long afterward, the extraordinary abundance of salmon in the nearby waters drew commercial fishing interests to the area. In 1886, the first salmon cannery opened in Ketchikan, marking the beginning of an industry that would soon transform the community.

By the early twentieth century, more than a dozen canneries operated along these shores. At its peak, the region earned the title “Salmon Capital of the World,” with fishing vessels and processing plants dominating the waterfront. The prosperity, however, came at a cost. Intense harvesting pressure eventually pushed salmon stocks toward collapse during the 1940s, and the once-booming cannery industry gradually declined. As fishing diminished, the vast forests surrounding the town began to shape a new economic era. Logging operations expanded throughout Southeast Alaska, and timber from the Tongass National Forest flowed through the region for decades.

Today, Ketchikan has evolved once again. Positioned near the southern entrance to Alaska’s Inside Passage, the town has become one of the first ports encountered by ships arriving from the south. Cruise vessels, ferries of the Alaska Marine Highway, fishing boats, and floatplanes now share the same harbour that once bustled with cannery fleets. For this reason, Ketchikan is often called “Alaska’s First City,” the gateway through which many visitors experience the state for the first time.

The geography of the town remains unmistakable. Ketchikan stretches in a long, narrow line along the waterfront, with many of its shops and buildings standing on wooden pilings above the tide. Behind this thin coastal strip, the mountains rise steeply, and most homes cling to the forested slopes above the town.

And this morning, after watching the town slowly emerge from the fog, we were about to step into it.

Disembarking Queen Elizabeth, Exploring Ketchikan

With the ship secured to the dock and the gangway in place, passengers soon began drifting toward the exit to begin their day ashore. Before leaving the ship, however, the crew made one final announcement over the public address system, reminding everyone that all passengers were to be back on board by 4:00 PM. The warning was routine but important. Ships do not wait for late passengers.

After so many years of travelling independently on trails where almost everything was entirely our own responsibility, the fixed schedules of ship travel felt slightly unusual. To avoid any confusion later in the day, we paused for a moment to confirm that my phone was set to ship time rather than automatically adjusting to a different time zone. Living by ship time, not necessarily local time. It was a small detail, but an important one. Missing a departure on a voyage like this would not be a minor inconvenience.

Once ashore, we began walking slowly along the waterfront. The harbour beside the cruise pier was filled with small vessels: fishing boats, charter boats, and rows of sailboats tied neatly in the marina.

Signs along the dock reminded visitors that we had arrived within the boundaries of the Tongass National Forest, the immense temperate rainforest that blankets much of Southeast Alaska.

From the pier, we followed the main waterfront street toward the historic district of Creek Street, one of the places most frequently mentioned in guidebooks and travel brochures about the town. Yet almost immediately, we found ourselves confronted with the other side of Ketchikan’s identity as a cruise destination. The streets closest to the docks were crowded with souvenir shops and storefronts catering almost entirely to arriving passengers. Windows overflowed with displays of t-shirts, trinkets, carved bears, and every imaginable variation of Alaskan memorabilia. The atmosphere felt busy and commercial, and the contrast between this tourist district and the quiet, misty harbour we had just sailed into was striking.

We only stayed here briefly before deciding to continue walking. Our goal was not the shops but the surrounding landscapes and wildlife that had drawn us north in the first place. With that in mind, we moved steadily past the busiest blocks, hoping to find quieter streets and perhaps the chance to explore the creek itself.

Around us, birdlife seemed to be everywhere. Gulls above the harbour, ravens bouncing along the rocky shoreline and tidal pools, and Bald Eagles on the corners of buildings and tops of trees. Each clear signs that this was going to be an amazing place to explore the natural environments of the Pacific coast! For that, even these quick glimpses of nature were encouragement to get beyond the tourist shops and to keep walking.

Creek Street

A few blocks beyond the busiest storefronts, the street narrowed and curved toward Ketchikan Creek. Here, the atmosphere of the town changed almost immediately.

Earlier in the morning, we had noticed that many passengers aboard Queen Elizabeth had signed up for the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show, one of the port’s most popular excursions. As a result, another of Ketchikan’s best-known attractions, Creek Street, was surprisingly quiet when we arrived. The absence of crowds gave us the rare opportunity to wander slowly through this historic stretch of the town without the usual bustle of visitors.

Creek Street runs along the side of Ketchikan Creek, its wooden boardwalks raised on pilings above the rushing water. The buildings stand so close to the creek that the entire street feels suspended above the current. Painted in a range of bright colours, the tightly clustered storefronts and houses line the waterway in a way that makes the scene feel almost theatrical against the deep green forest rising behind them.

The street carries a layered past. For decades, Creek Street formed the centre of Ketchikan’s red-light district (known as the Married Man Trail), a reputation that lasted until prostitution was finally outlawed here in 1954. At its height, nearly twenty small houses lined the far side of the creek, many of them operating as brothels serving fishermen, loggers, and cannery workers who passed through the busy port.

One of the most famous of these establishments was Dolly’s House, a small building that today has been preserved as a historic attraction. Nearby storefronts now house local art galleries and small shops, their colourful façades giving the street a historic and memorable feel. Over the past several decades, much of Creek Street has been carefully restored and protected, beginning in the 1970s when efforts were made to preserve the area’s historic character. Today, the boardwalks and buildings remain one of the most distinctive parts of Ketchikan’s waterfront.

Standing there beside the water, it was easy to see why this narrow valley had drawn people here in the first place. The creek itself still runs strong through the centre of town, its clear waters tumbling down from the forested hills before spilling into the Tongass Narrows.

And that creek, more than the colourful buildings above it, was what had truly drawn our attention.

Salmon Walk and Fish Ladder

Continuing beyond the far end of Creek Street, the wooden boardwalk gradually gave way to a pathway that followed the creek upstream. The buildings of the historic district quickly fell behind us as we climbed slowly along the waterway, following a route marked as the Salmon Walk.

The creek itself was alive with activity. Bald eagles circled above the narrow valley, and from time to time one would suddenly drop from the rooftops or nearby trees, plunging down toward the water in search of fish.

Along the rocks beside the creek, a small grey bird appeared, hopping deliberately between the wet stones. It was an American Dipper, a bird perfectly adapted to life along fast mountain streams. Unlike most songbirds, it feeds underwater, plunging directly into the current in search of aquatic insects.

Not far away, a pair of ravens worked noisily at the remains of a salmon that had washed up along the creek bank. Their deep croaking calls echoed through the narrow corridor of trees as they tugged at the carcass.

Looking down into the clear water, we could suddenly see why the birds were so active. The creek bed was filled with fish! Salmon moved steadily upstream through the current, their bodies flashing in the water as they fought their way against the flow. The fish ladder built along the creek helped guide them past the barriers created by the town’s bridges and small dams. Watching the salmon struggle up the narrow channels of the ladder offered a vivid reminder of the conservation work that now supports these remarkable migrations.

During the summer months, all five species of Pacific salmon can pass through these waters - Chinook, Coho, Sockeye, Pink, and Chum - each returning from the ocean to the very streams where they were born. Standing beside the ladder, it was easy to understand how deeply the lives of both people and wildlife have always been tied to this small creek and rivers similar to it.

Beyond the fish ladder, the town changed again. Now, on the edge of local neighbourhoods, the boardwalks gave way to sidewalks and soon a beautiful, quiet city park on the way to a local trail that had been suggested to us by a bartender on board Queen Elizabeth. For us, any place forested and quieter felt like the right direction to continue exploring in.

Wandering Ketchikan City Park

Continuing upstream beyond the fish ladder, the path soon opened into a small city park set along the banks of Ketchikan Creek.

After the busy waterfront and the historic boardwalks of Creek Street, the space felt unexpectedly calm. Carefully maintained lawns spread beneath tall spruce and hemlock trees, their branches forming a high canopy above the park. A narrow network of pathways curved through the grass, crossing the creek by small wooden bridges and leading past benches placed along the water’s edge.

At the centre of the city park was a small fountain and shallow pond, near to which plaques and memorial stones had short poems and dedications. The entire setting felt wonderful as though it was a small green refuge woven into the urban fabric of Ketchikan. It seemed that the further we moved from the port infrastructure, the closer we came to those spaces that define the community.

Even here, the creek remained the focus of attention.

American Dippers moved along the stones in the current, hopping from rock to rock before vanishing briefly beneath the surface in search of aquatic insects. Above the lawns, small birds flickered through the branches of the spruce trees. One of them paused briefly on a branch overhead - a Townsend’s Warbler - its yellow face and bold black markings standing out sharply against the muted greens of the forest.

For a few moments, we simply wandered the pathways, watching the creek bubble through the park before continuing its journey down toward the harbour.

Hiking Deer Mountain Trail

After wandering along the creek and through the park, we continued walking uphill through the residential streets of Ketchikan – curiosity pulling us further uphill. The climb was steady but short, and before long, the pavement narrowed and curved toward the edge of the forest where a small sign marked the trailhead for the Deer Mountain Trail. Almost immediately, it felt like stepping into a different world.

The town and port fell away behind us, replaced by the dense temperate rainforest that blankets much of Southeast Alaska. The forest here was magnificent, especially in the fog that still hung in the air. Tall trees rose into the mist while long strands of moss draped from their branches. Ferns crowded the forest floor, and large berry bushes spread through the understory.

The first stretch of the trail followed a narrow boardwalk that wound through the forest. Even this section demanded careful footing. Years of rain had left the wood slick with moss, and the constant dampness gave everything a soft green sheen. Beyond the boardwalk, the trail quickly became rougher, climbing steeply up the hillside over roots and rocks.

       

Ketchikan receives remarkable amounts of rainfall each year, and that reality was clearly visible beneath our feet. Small streams crossed the path in several places, and in others the trail itself had become a narrow channel of flowing water. In a few spots, the water reached above our ankles as we stepped carefully between stones and roots.

None of this discouraged us. In fact, the conditions made the forest feel even more alive. Though it did mean that we had to tread with careful steps and at a slower pace. It was easy to imagine spending hours exploring these hillsides, following the trail deeper into the mountains above Ketchikan. Had we not been concerned - unnecessarily - about the ship’s departure time later that afternoon, we likely would have continued much farther.

Around us we made out the songs of Pacific Wrens, Varied Thrush, and (I think) even a Golden-crowned Kinglet! Then, amid all the wonder and beauty of the forest, gradually, the sound of voices and music began to drift through the trees.

     

At first, it was only a few people approaching from below, but before long, the trail began filling with large groups climbing steadily uphill. They arrived not in pairs or small clusters, but in dozens at a time. The narrow trail left little room to pass, and the forest that had felt so quiet only moments earlier quickly became crowded. Many of the hikers moved upward two by two, talking loudly with music playing louder from their phones hung around their necks. More than a few were shuttling along, watching the screens of their phones rather than the trail itself. Navigating the muddy and slippery path required concentration, and as the number of people increased, the experience began to feel very different from the peaceful walk we had set out to find.

We have learned over the years that not every moment in travel clicks and works the way we hope. When a place begins to lose the quiet that drew us there in the first place, sometimes the best choice is simply to step away. So we turned around and set off for the trailhead.

Making our way back down the trail proved slightly more challenging than the climb up, particularly as we navigated around the steady stream of hikers continuing toward the forest above. Eventually, the boardwalk reappeared, and the trees began to thin as we approached the trailhead.

What surprised us most was what we found waiting there. Several taxis had begun arriving at the small clearing near the entrance to the trail, dropping off more and more visitors who immediately started up the path. The steady flow of arrivals suddenly explained the growing crowds we had encountered in the forest. Unsure exactly what had prompted the sudden rush of hikers, we left the trailhead behind and began walking back down toward town, and the harbor were Queen Elizabeth waited.

Hordes in Port

Walking back down toward town after our short venture into the forest, we quickly realized that the atmosphere in Ketchikan had changed dramatically. While we had been wandering along the creek and exploring the forest above town, three additional cruise ships had arrived in port.

The effect was immediate and unmistakable. As each vessel released its passengers into the narrow streets along the waterfront, the small town suddenly filled with people moving in every direction. The arithmetic was simple enough. With four ships now docked - each carrying somewhere between 1,500 and 2,000 passengers - the number of visitors moving through the town at any one time could easily reach six to eight thousand people.

For any city, it would be overwhelming. For a community the size of Ketchikan, it was staggering.

The quiet exploration we had enjoyed earlier along Creek Street was now only a memory. Sidewalks, boardwalks, and even sections of the roadway were crowded with visitors moving slowly through town in large clusters. Traffic was at a standstill. Tour groups gathered around guides holding coloured paddles above the crowd. Lines formed outside jewellery shops and souvenir stores. People flowed across intersections in waves, creating a constant, shifting movement through the centre of town.

Seeking a brief pause from the crowds, we stepped into the Alaska Crepe Company, hoping to try something local before returning to the ship. Even there, the rush of visitors was evident. Nearly thirty-five minutes of organized chaos later, we finally emerged with warm crepes in hand and found a place along the docks where we could stand quietly beside the water and eat. Sitting was not a viable possibility given the numbers.

From the waterfront, we tried once more to wander through town, hoping perhaps to find a quieter corner along the harbour. But the number of people moving through the streets made it difficult to enjoy the moment in the same way we had earlier in the day. Eventually, we decided to return to the ship.

Making our way back to port and the ship, we once again passed through security and boarded Queen Elizabeth. From the decks, we could now clearly see the other vessels docked nearby - Celebrity Edge, Celebrity Summit, and Carnival Spirit. Even using their standard published guest capacities, that meant roughly 9,300 passengers could be moving through Ketchikan at once, certainly an overwhelming presence for such a small coastal community.

Even the harbour itself seemed crowded now. Tour boats and tenders moved constantly across the water while local fishing vessels and the occasional harbour seal tried to navigate the increasingly busy channel.

Back in our cabin, we shed our damp hiking layers, changed into dry clothes more appropriate to being on board the ship rather than the trail and took a few quiet minutes to rest. Sitting there in our cabin back on board a calm and elegant vessel, we were both glad to be free of the tensions between tourism and place.

Naturalist talk in Commodore Club

Back on board, we made our way to the Commodore Club - not for an early drink, but to attend the afternoon sail-away talk hosted by the ship’s naturalist.

The speaker was Dr. Rachel Cartwright, the marine biologist whose earlier lecture had already captured our attention. When we arrived, the lounge was already filling quickly. The Commodore Club sits high at the bow of the ship, its wide windows looking directly out over the water ahead, and passengers had gathered there to hear what wildlife might await us as we departed Ketchikan.

By the time the talk began, the room was nearly full – Dr. Cartwright was clearly an engaging and popular speaker.

Standing near the front of the lounge, Dr. Cartwright spoke about the marine life of Southeast Alaska - particularly the whales that inhabit the waters of the Inside Passage. Drawing on decades of field work in the region, she described the seasonal movements of humpbacks, the feeding grounds scattered throughout the coastal channels, and the kinds of sightings passengers might hope to experience in the coming days.

Her enthusiasm was infectious. Yet as the ship prepared to depart Ketchikan, the atmosphere in the room began to shift slightly.

The lounge had grown crowded as more passengers arrived, and through the tall windows we could see the harbour slowly beginning to move. The lines had been cast off, and Queen Elizabeth was easing away from the dock. For us, the decision was an easy one. Rather than watching sail away through the glass, we slipped quietly out of the packed lounge and made our way back out onto the open decks to experience the moment directly. After all, if whales or seabirds appeared as the ship left port, we wanted to see them first-hand.

Sail Away from Ketchikan

We spent the final quiet minutes before departure out on deck, enjoying the relative peacefulness that exists on board Queen Elizabeth, which felt like an oasis of grandeur and calm after our time in port. The upper decks were peaceful as we took in the coastal scenery surrounding Ketchikan.

As we moved out into the harbour, another ship was already arriving to take our place. The Ruby Princess from Princess Cruises slipped carefully toward the pier we had just vacated, a reminder of the constant rotation of vessels moving through Alaska’s ports during peak season.

Gradually, the town began to recede behind us. Ketchikan’s waterfront faded as the ship turned northward through the narrow channels of the Inside Passage. Even under grey skies the landscape felt immense. Forested mountains rose directly from the water while low clouds drifted across the slopes, layering the coastline in soft shades of green and grey.

Then, almost unexpectedly, the water around us came alive - whales!

Spouts appeared first - brief white bursts rising above the surface - followed by dark fins cutting through the water, then bodies arcing and tails were in the air! As the ship threaded its way between small islands and narrow spits of land, humpback whales surfaced repeatedly around us, their movements visible across the channel.

We turned to point them out to others on deck who might not have the benefit of binoculars or scopes, only to discover that we were literally the only ones on deck.

Every few moments, another spout would rise, or a dark back would arc above the surface before slipping beneath the water again. At one point, a great tail lifted clear of the sea and then crashed down with a tremendous splash! It was impossible to look away. Listening to the naturalist this afternoon had prepared us for the possibility of sightings along this stretch of coast. Even so, seeing so many whales surface around the ship once again felt almost unreal.

By now, the ship was navigating deeper into the maze of islands north of Ketchikan. The surrounding landscape had become even more dramatic: fog-shrouded mountains, narrow forested islands, and long channels of open water stretching into the distance.

As the evening progressed, the sky slowly began to change.

Because we were travelling late in the season, the sun set not long after departure, something the ship’s naturalist had warned might limit wildlife viewing along this stretch of coast. Yet the fading daylight only seemed to add to the spectacle unfolding around us.

The clouds thinned, and the sky opened just enough for the colours of sunset to emerge. Reds and oranges spread across the horizon, reflecting softly on the water before fading into gentler shades of pink and purple. As darkness approached, those colours slowly deepened into cool blues that wrapped the entire landscape in evening light.

It felt fitting that the day had begun in layers of fog and would end in layers of colour.

Even after we eventually retreated to our cabin to warm up and change for the evening, the view outside remained irresistible. Every few minutes, one of us would glance back through the window. No matter where we were on board the sea, its wonders kept calling us back outside.

Sunset at Gin & Fiz

Opting for a pre-dinner drink, we wandered toward a new venue for us aboard Queen Elizabeth - Gin & Fizz, the small lounge located at the centre of the ship. With sail away, and all the excitement that came with it behind us, now we were back at sea for another evening.

The fading daylight and dropping temperatures outside made standing on deck at the railings feel increasingly uncomfortable – especially now that we had changed into lighter evening clothes. Especially since one of us was wearing a dress. As much as we wanted to remain outside, the cold air eventually drove us back toward the warmth of the ship.

Gin & Fizz turned out to be the perfect compromise as the lounge sits midship with easy access to the promenade deck, allowing us to warm ourselves inside while still keeping the outdoors within easy reach. In practice, this meant that we rarely stayed seated for long. Every few minutes, one of us would glance through the windows and notice something unfolding outside and rush back on deck.

Sean, dressed in a suit but still carrying his camera and birding scope, would step out to photograph the shifting light over the water. I followed close behind with my Bushnell binoculars, scanning the waterline for more movement on the sea.

Inside, the bartenders where good natured and patient with us, watching over our drinks, which sat at our periodically abandoned table.

Eventually, hunger caught up with us, and we moved up to the Lido for a quick and informal dinner. That evening, our plates were simple - quinoa salad, mashed potatoes, and flatbread — but the food itself was secondary to the experience. Once again, we chose the option that allowed us to remain closest to the outdoors.

Formal dining rooms may define the classic cruise experience for many passengers – and they certainly did for us on Queen Mary 2. But in Alaskan waters on QE, the draw for us remained the same as it had all day: the sea, the sky, and the natural world beyond the railings of the ship.

Evening at Sea on Queen Elizabeth

Later that evening, we made our way to one of our favourite places about Queen Elizabeth – the Commodore Club. Located at the very front of the ship, the lounge offers sweeping panoramic views over the bow, making it an ideal place for a quiet drink after a long day ashore. Even in darkness, it remains a compelling space, with the ship pushing forward into the night. The staff here are always welcoming and terrific.

As such, with glasses in hand, we found ourselves thinking back over the day.

Ketchikan had been remarkable. The combination of history, wildlife, and dramatic coastal scenery made for a memorable port visit. Earlier in the day, we had been fortunate enough to explore the town while it was still relatively quiet, wandering along Creek Street and following the salmon-filled waters of Ketchikan Creek before the crowds arrived.

Yet as the afternoon began and additional ships entered the harbour, another question slowly emerged. What must it feel like to live here on a daily basis?

For local residents, the arrival of cruise ships undoubtedly brings economic opportunity. Restaurants, tour operators, shops, and guides all benefit from the steady flow of visitors during the season. At the same time, however, the sudden arrival of thousands of passengers within the span of a few hours every day must certainly overwhelm the narrow streets of the small coastal town. Standing amid the crowds earlier that afternoon, we could not help wondering how that balance feels from the perspective of those who call this place home. Is the seasonal surge of visitors welcomed as an economic lifeline, or does it sometimes feel like an invasion that briefly transforms a community into something else entirely?

These questions lingered with us as we sat in the music-filled lounge, looking out into the dark skies over the Inside Passage.

For us, perhaps because of the years spent walking long-distance trails and moving slowly across landscapes, the experience of travel often feels most meaningful when it takes place at a natural pace. Travel in this way allows you the opportunity to explore the world. Today was more a scene of tourism than exploration. That contrast between slow travel and mass arrival was both startling and not easy to reconcile.

Outside the windows, the ship continued northward through the Alaskan night. After leaving Ketchikan, Queen Elizabeth briefly turned south in order to navigate around Gravina Island and Prince of Wales Island before gradually resuming her northerly course. By morning, we would be approaching Holkham Bay, near the entrance to Tracy Arm and Endicott Arm, where glaciers and steep granite fjords awaited further north.

See you on board!

Nautical Term of the Day - Tide Over - Ships waited for favourable tides to carry them onward. Today it refers to sustaining oneself until conditions improve.