Is Theo Really Whale Watching?

 Everyone knows that whales are not birds. Theo, our gangster cat, (affectionately called) loves birds. He loves to watch them, chase them, cackle at them and well . . . who knows what else? But whales?

We love whales. I've even gone on whale watching cruises, hoping to see one. 

"They're super big. And they're the nicest animals, Theo. They hang out with their family."

And then we point. When you're on a cruise in Resurrection Bay, with hundreds of other tourists, you almost have to knock down and drag people out of the way to see into the bay--to actually see the whales. You have to be ready to rush from one side of the boat to the other. Someone shouts out a sighting, and everyone rushes to the spot. Then someone else spots a whale and everyone rushes to the next spot. It is a miracle if you're standing in the exact right place and can actually see the whales. 

We are dying to get a good photo. But it's hard. We click and click and all we end up with are whale tails. The whales leap up but by the time we click, they are submerged with just their tails as evidence that they were ever there.

Whales do not pose for photos.

I am determined, though, to catch a full bodied whale. I take a video:

Imagine--whales are swimming along--under the water and then they pop up like jack in the boxes, water spouts up and then they dive under the water again. You learn to look for clues so you can see one of those magic moments.

 You look for seabirds--the gulls, the shearwaters, the gannets and the petrels who gather near a whale family to partake of the buffet of fish the whales create. Whales herd fish and krill to the surface, which the seabirds love. You see the birds, you see the whales.

We realize part of the way through our whale watching (with Theo in our arms, equally captivated) or so we think that he isn't looking at the whales at all. No, by gosh, he's enamored with the seabirds that are madly flying around, hoping for a snack.

That's how Dan puts it. "See those birds, Theo. They want a snack."

It all makes perfect sense to Theo, whose view of the world is much simpler than ours. Much more pragmatic than ours. 

"Are you noticing the whales at all?" I want to know.

Theo looks up at me. Then goes back to watching the whales . . . no, correction please--I now know the truth. He's watching those darn birds. Even as we see the most magnificent sight of all, more than tails. We see the whales leaping up out of the water. Yes.

As we eventually sail back to dock (after spending hours chasing a whale family in the bay) we pass another amazing sight. Seals are sunbathing on the rocks. And you can actually see the entire seal. We imagine they've already put on their suntan lotion and will be there for hours, hoping for a tan.

Does Theo even notice or is he looking backwards, hoping to see more birds. 

Theo Visits Resurrection Bay

 We arrive at Seward, Alaska--Resurrection Bay or as it's properly known: Kenai Ford National Park. Promises are made. Board the boat for a six hour, non-stop, tour around the expansive bay, and you're sure to see an iceberg cascading into the water and an assortment of anything that flies or swims. We're hoping for whales, of course. And glimpses of beautiful scenery--which Alaska is known for.

The boat is crowded with passengers so priority number one is to stake out a place to sit. We find a table with chairs inside the boat. As soon as we leave the dock, the temps drop lower and lower. Outside, a brisk breeze can blow an iPhone out of your hands or a nine pound cat into the water.

Luckily, our table faces a window with a view. "I think Theo should stay here. Where it's safe and warm."

I expect an argument. For once, the gangster cat agrees. 

"I'll come get you if we see anything. A whale, for example."

The scenery is stunning. Snow capped mountains, cliffs, craggy inlets, sea water that changes from blue to green and every shade in between, a sun that shines like a white light in the darkened cloud filled sky, and waterfalls that snake down the mountain.  

We see glaciers tumble into the bay, which is not a sight you see very often in the contiguous United States.

Our first sighting are seals sunbathing on a long slim patch of ice in the water. 

Then we spot seals swimming among the ice chunks in the bay.

We run and get Theo. After all, we promised. But when he gets yanked from his cozy spot and carried (he would say kidnapped) to where the seals are, he gives me the stink eye and then a cursory glance at the seals.

Really?

But . . . luckily just as we're about to bring him back inside, we make his day. Small white birds are perched on a nearby mountain side. I mean there's nothing too unique about them. White birds. Kittiwakes? Theo spots them immediately. 

What is it with cats and birds?

We hold onto Theo, expecting that given the chance, he'll leap off the boat and somehow swim across the icy water to get to those birds. Holding Theo captive is no easy feat while you're trying to take photos. He begins to make that cackling sound. His tail is wagging.

"Calm down. You see birds all the time at home." 

What you see you can't unsee! Did someone famous say that?

Now he's twisting and turning with a clearly defined mission. I'm afraid if I bring him back inside, he'll sneak out again.

We are in a quandary. Is it time for a snack? A distraction?

Just as that thought hits me like a bolt of lightning, the birds are out of view. The boat picks up speed. 

We're headed to a family of whales that have been spotted, way out in the distance, barely bigger than flecks of black in the water. 

Yippee!! 

And, believe it or not, even Theo looks excited. Have we finally found something he is keen to watch, besides birds?

Stay tuned for Part 2 next week. 

 

Theo Naps and Snacks in Historic Talkeetna

 Traveling around with a gangster cat can be a chore, at times. You want to do one thing, and he wants to do another. How do I convince Theo that Talkeetna (yes, the place where he had ice cream) is worth checking out--especially the historic places that go back to the 1890's?

The only sure fire method is a bribe. You do this for me and I'll do this for you. Of course, we're talking about snacks, plenty of snacks.

One tour is all we want, we tell him. 

He issues back a plaintive meow. 

We strike a deal.

The first known people of the Talkeetna area were called "mountain people." They lived in the area 6,000 years ago. They were nomadic Indians who hunted caribou and fished the three rivers that joined together nearby. The last of the mountain people died in 1918 during the flu epidemic. They left only oral stories behind, no written records.

Isabella Grindrod arrived in Talkeetna in 1917 and worked many jobs (laundry, cook) before buying her own cabin near the Talkeetna River, starting a freight company with two brothers, eventually marrying one of them which led to the Talkeetna Trading Post. When her husband died, she added a dining room to the trading post and began to serve meals. She kept chickens and a large garden. Unfortunately, her cabin no longer exists but here's a photo:

We're excited to walk into a cabin that does still exist, a railroad era style 1920's cabin to glimpse the inside  and see how people lived. This cabin was bigger than most. The owner also had a horse barn and small blacksmith shop and was the village blacksmith for ten years before he moved away. 

We visit another cabin, which was typical of a one room cabin built in 1916. The owner worked for the railroad, trapped and practiced gold mining. When he married and started a family, he didn't do the obvious thing and enlarge the cabin but built another cabin nearby. 

Theo likes the cabins. He spends as much time as he can sniffing around. He jumps up and looks out the window. When he tries to take a nap on one of the beds, it's time to go.

Life was tough back then. We pause to look at the breathtaking scenery, which is one reason why people lived there--in so much isolation. 

"Well, what did you think?" I ask my unusually cooperative gangster cat as we're walking back through town to catch the shuttle to our hotel.

He doesn't say a meow, only licks his lips--having just wolfed down an entire plate of snacks. 

Okay, Talkeetna is a hit in Theo's book. And in ours, too.

Theo Visits Talkeetna and Gets Ice cream

 Talkeetna, Alaska, has been called quirky and quaint, boasts more tourists than locals (only 900 residents) and is one of those towns where you feel you've gone back in time when you step foot onto Main Street.

I'm thinking of a small town, circa 1950, although it was settled in the late 1890's. It was the real inspiration for the fictional town of Cicely in the 1990's television show Northern Exposure. It was connected with the gold rush, the Alaskan Railroad and is known for its rustic log cabins.  It is also called the base camp for climbers who want to ascend the heights of Mt. Denali.

If you can block out the crowds of people queuing for ice cream. Block out the people waiting to get seated for lunch at the local pizzeria . . . you can begin to feel what Alaska was like 100 years ago.

Theo loves Talkeetna immediately when he learns that the locals elected Stubbs (and then Aurora), a cat as mayor (honorary mayor), but just the idea tickles Theo's underbelly. 

Our first decision is to take a boat ride up the Susitna River. The water is a grayish blue color which contrasts weirdly with the bluish gray sky. The clouds make a statement. 

We're headed towards historic sites that have been preserved. How did the native Alaskans live before the town was founded? 

They fished and hunted. They hung their animal hides up to dry. They used sleighs pulled by dogs to move across the snow. 

They lived in small cabins and made sure to store their food high off the ground.

We're off the boat and walking towards the main part of town, intending to take an historic tour. I love this part of visiting a new place. I love peeking into what people's houses (I mean cabins) looked like. I love learning the local history.

But Theo will have none of it. He wants ice cream. Before lunch?

The line for ice cream is about 100 people long. And it's slow moving. The sun is out and surprisingly hot. I look over at Dan, hoping he can save the day.

He has an idea. We duck into Nagley's Store, small general store -- smaller than your typical Wawa (but this is where Alaskans shop in Talkeetna) because Dan remembers they have ice cream. No line! 

Later, we're sitting outside in the shade eating our ice cream. Theo hunkers down at our feet, snoozing. He's had a rough sniffing day.

That darned gangster cat was right again. We needed an ice cream break. And then onto lunch. And an historic walking tour. 

Theo and Mt. McKinley Revealed

 I'm at a loss to explain why it's so important to see the snow capped top of Mount McKinley when we're in Alaska. I think it all starts when we hear Alaskan after Alaskan say how rare it is to see the mountain top because of perpetual clouds and mist that swarm the area around it. They tell us the sighting of the mountain top is not guaranteed. In fact, they have the statistic at hand--you can only see the mountain top thirty-five percent of the time. The explanation: McKinley (the tallest mountain in North America) is so tall it creates its own weather system and is frequently blanketed by thick clouds. 

We are, of course, determined to see it. As we travel along from Denali National Park to Talkeetna, we constantly look up and over. And all we see are magnificent vistas and a mountain top covered with clouds.

Our driver, at one point, drives us an hour out of our way, convinced that he has the perfect spot to see the mountain. "You don't want to come all the way to Alaska and not see the top of Mt. McKinley?"

Of course not. We're in agreement on that. Inevitably when we arrive home, someone will ask--well, did you see it? 

Theo agrees. We must see the top of the mountain. But all we see are clouds.

We take a train ride to Talkeetna and the train even stops mid-way so we can try again to see the mountain. Everyone around us continues to say--just wait for a few minutes more. I have a feeling that the clouds will drift away and you'll be able to see the mountain. The few minutes turns into an hour or more. No mountain free of clouds. 

I complain to Theo. "This is ridiculous. How spectacular can the sight be?"

Theo shakes his head. 

"All right. All right." 

Finally the train moves again. And everyone seems perplexed. "We don't understand. Normally we can see the mountain top from the train."

We're staying at the Talkeetna Alaska Lodge. We're shown to our room--very spacious, well-appointed with a giant picture window facing toward the mountain. 

Theo is the first one to make the suggestion: "I wonder if we can see the mountain from here." He jumps up on the ledge and pushes the drapes aside with his paw. 

This is the moment I'll remember. We've spent literally the entire day trying to see this darn mountain top without the clouds. It's as if we're under some kind of spell. Now, tired and hot, I figure what are the chances of seeing that mountain?

"Don't get your hopes up."

Theo seems transfixed at the window. 

What can he be staring at?

And there it is--in all its glory. The perpetual clouds have drifted away. The top of Mt. McKinley is finally revealed. I almost choke on the irony. We could have saved ourselves hours of effort if we'd only known that all along we would see that darn mountain from our hotel window. 

There's a lesson is all of this, but I can't for the life of me figure out what it is. Nevertheless, Theo is happy. He's finally seen the top of the mountain! And it is glorious, indeed.