It's a very active dock and I just hope our captain can find a parking space.
Our first look at Ketchikan shows it huddling at the foot of a mountain, shivering under low-lying clouds. The town spreads uphill through winding streets, making it a bit of a hike from the boat to get out and discover all that little town might have to offer...
such as a good bar, perhaps?
The sign suggests we "watch the lines in comfort". I suppose they're referring to the cruise lines coming in to dock, but perhaps there's a run (pardon the pun) on their washrooms.
If you feel like jumping ship and starting your life all over again, there's at least one promising property with plenty of potential that could be purchased in this bustling town.
I was very intrigued by Ketchikan, but the rains came down in buckets and I was forced to find my way back to the ship without having had the opportunity to venture very far into those winding streets.
It was really the one regret of my trip as this town seemed to be the most "authentic" of those we visited in that it was clearly not designed chiefly for the shopping pleasure of tourists.
Here you can get an idea of the torrents of rain, accumulating as a small lake in the parking lot where a *Sourdough* cab awaits passengers.
(*Sourdough (slang) An old-timer, especially in Alaska. From the distinctive pouches of bread starter worn on a belt or around the neck by experienced prospectors during the Klondike Gold Rush.*
thanks Wikipedia)
Passengers hasten back
to the dry sheltering warmth of their boats.
As we pull out of Ketchikan we get another glimpse of the town, looking like a soft pastel drawing
through the rain dotted window.
