A Perfect Day in Seward

Named for the Secretary of State who purchased Alaska from Russia in 1867, Seward is the largest port on the Kenai Peninsula. As we sailed into its industrial harbor at dawn the temperature was about 38 degrees with a 10 mph breeze. After breakfast it warmed up a bit, and we hopped on the bus that took us to the Alaska SeaLife Center. This is the only institution in the state that rescues orphaned and injured aquatic animals, restores them to health, and releases them back into the wild. Not only are the room-sized aquariums beautiful, they also have very informative exhibits describing the work of the SeaLife Center. It is more complicated than it seems. For example, if they rescue a diseased, orphaned seal, not only must they nurse it back to health, they must also teach it to catch a fish, then kill and eat it fast enough so that the fish will not escape. Only then can the creature be released back into the wild. Our attendant told us that yesterday they released 4 seals back into the Pacific. Some of the little fur seals never learn the trick, so they become permanent residents here. I saw one large Stellar Seal swimming on its back, so I asked the attendant about it. She said that this seal, whom they call “Tuq,” apparently has a mental disorder. Scientists are studying him, and the keepers are very careful to keep him calm. I never knew there were psychiatrists for seals.

We took the long way back to the ship, walking along the sunny path that runs along the shoreline. We saw hundreds of campers, bicyclists doing primitive camping, and other folks like us just strolling along on this perfect Sunday morning. We happen to see the zero mile marker for the Iditarod dog sled race. This annual race commemorates “The Great Race of Mercy” in 1925. The children in Nome, Alaska were dying of diphtheria. The fastest way to deliver the serum to that remote ice-choked harbor was by dog sled. The closest serum was in Anchorage, and the closest railway station was in the town of Nenana, near Fairbanks. Mushers picked up the serum there and began an epic relay trek of 674 miles in temperatures that hovered around minus 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Unexpected events forced the last musher to extend the last leg of the trip to 91 miles in a lethal ice storm. Falling asleep while standing on his sled the musher had to depend on his two lead sled dogs, Togo and Balko, to traverse a dangerous shortcut across a frozen harbor to deliver the vaccine to Nome in record time. With the advent of aviation dog sleds waned in importance. Nevertheless, dog sledding is still a popular sport here, and every year the Iditarod dog sled race commemorates the life saving mission of 1925.

A young couple from Anchorage had brought their kids down for a weekend camping trip. They walked with us for a portion of the trail, and seemed as delighted as we were with the beauty of this sunny day. We passed a bench in a small tended flower garden. The seat had three bouquets of flowers on it and a brass inscription remembering a young woman who had died on September 22 a few years ago. There was another similar area down the path which the stewards had named “Brotherly Love Park.” An inscription remembered a young man and invited all people of all faiths and persuasions to come and enjoy the beauty. Glenda said, “When I die I would like to be remembered with a small, peaceful garden like this.”

“Don’t be in any hurry,” I said.

About a 2.5 mile walk through this park, surrounded by towering, snow-capped mountains, brought us back to the Viking Orion. We had lunch, returned to our stateroom and prepared for our visit to Kodiak Island tomorrow.Read more