Sketchbook: Alaska
I looked at the landscape. The landscape looked back. WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY PETER MOORE
A GUY FROM TEXAS IS SITTING IN A BAR, bragging about his state. How it has the biggest this. The most of that. The longest whatever.
Two seats down, a guy from Alaska patiently listens.
Finally the Alaskan can take no more, and tells the Bigmouth:
“If you don’t stop bragging,” he says, “we’ll tear Alaska in half, and then Texas will be the third largest state.”
I heard that joke twice while I was visiting Alaska, delivered by tour guides who had identified Texans in our midst. When I got back home, my friend Mark texted the joke to me. It was still funny, because like all great comedy, it was true.
Alaska is indeed huge, as I know after trying to stare it down for two weeks. The landscape was simply too enormous to comprehend. But I did try to stuff as much as I could into my sketchbook.
THE LANDSCAPE THAT LOOKS BACK. I spent hours on the balcony of my cabin, trying to pencil in all that was passing by. And some stuff that wasn’t passing by, but I wish would. I saw sea otters (cute!) and the whale’s tail (whoa), and I swear that mountain was looking back at me (yikes). Hey Ariel!
JOHN MUIR WOULD BE PISSED. In the 1879, the United States’ proto-naturalist cruised Alaska to study glaciers. There’s fewer of them to study, now. The ice flow named after Muir, in Glacier (not so much) Bay, has retreated thirty-one miles since his visit.
“I FEEL LIKE I’M IN FUCKING DISNEY WORLD,” said the crabby guy in a ship-board restaurant, as the patrons (and I) rushed the window when a whale cruised past. I cut the guy dead with sarcasm: “Cheer up, pal. We’re in Alaska.” But actually, it was a bit of Tundra World™ up there, with landscapes that caused eyestrain, animals that run the gamut from fuzzy to scary, hair-raising rides in kayaks and canoes, and trinket stores where your memories are cast in forever chemicals. I bought this cool hoodie from Alaska Geographic, if you’re wondering.
IT’S JUST ONE BIG ICE BUCKET. Care for a beer?
THE SALMON ARE RUNNING…from bears, from canneries, and from me. Thank goodness some actually manage to spawn, too.
FLOAT-PLANES ARE EVERYWHERE. When I was a kid, I dreamed of 1.) becoming a pilot and 2.) moving to Alaska. I’m 0-2 on that. So I was wistful as I watched float-plane after float-plane explore the fish-bird continuum.
OUR SHIP WAS BIGGER THAN ONE TOWN WE VISITED. Skagway, Alaska: Population 1,191. Holland America’s Nieuw Amsterdam: Population 2,881. This was the view from the Crow’s Nest, where I sipped a latte while my ship overwhelmed even that landscape.
MY TRIANGLE OF SADNESS. Have you seen Ruben Östlund’s film about a bunch of disgusting rich people as they abuse the workers who serve them aboard a megayacht? Go for the social satire, and enjoy the ten-minute vomiting scene as a bonus! The movie’s plot hinges on an orange lifeboat just like the one visible from my little balcony. It made me nervous—and a little sad—every time I looked at it.
THE SCARIEST CATCH. I’ve always had it in for crustaceans. Give me a bowl of drawn butter, a few lemons, and a boiled exoskeleton (lobster, king crab), and I can be happy for hours. But in Alaska, I finally realized just how big and scary these Tarantulas of the Deep are. Glad somebody else catches them for me.
THE END OF THE (SHIPPING) LINE. As we approached Vancouver, two other tourist behemoths fell in line behind our ship. It was time to have my last few unlimited drinks, and eat once more at the infinite buffet. I gained five pounds, and a whole new perspective on size.
Note to Texans: Alaska really is that big.
Eat any new and interesting food there? Moose mousse, antelope tongue, polar bear bratwurst—most likely not! But whale tongue or tail, which is OK. Just wonderin'.
It’s only been 49 years since graduation. Don’t rush it.
You know what’s weird? I’m still only 39years old. 🤣