CHAPTER 143

Original (Published in Evergreen News): 2012-06-07

Rewritten: 2026-04-03

In March 2012, we traveled to Hawaii to warm up our bodies. In early May, we went on to Alaska and Canada’s Yukon region to escape the heat in advance. It truly felt like a place between heaven and earth—yet not somewhere one could stay for long.

Our cruise ship, the elegant Holland America, departed from Canada Place in downtown Vancouver and headed north along British Columbia’s Inside Passage, crossing the Georgia Strait. On both sides, the mountains grew steeper and more layered as we advanced; their peaks were snow-capped, with snow spilling down along the ridges in clearly defined veins.

The northward scenery felt even more majestic and desolate than that of British Columbia.

At the capital, Juneau, we joined a glacier canoe tour. Including the two of us, there were nearly twenty participants, guided by two very young leaders - a man and a woman (which did little to inspire my confidence) - along with a canoe instructor. After putting on raincoats and life jackets, we all looked like tightly wrapped rice dumplings, clumsy and heavy.

We paddled hard for nearly an hour across a lake within a national park reserve. Along the way, we spotted a bald eagle perched on ice (the female larger than the male). Eventually, we stopped about 100 meters from a massive glacier, marveling at its grandeur formed over tens of thousands of years. Thousands of seagulls perched on the cliffs on both sides, their cries echoing loudly with the wind.

The lake water was a vivid turquoise, dotted everywhere with blue-green floating ice. The ice formations looked like natural jade carvings, varied in shape and utterly breathtaking. One formation resembled a cave; peering inside, its inner wall reflected like a sheet of green crystal - an extraordinary sight.

I hurried to capture it on camera, only to find, after just over ten seconds, that my memory card was full. What a letdown. By then, our “light” canoe had already drifted past, and we were soaked through - but thoroughly satisfied. Before paddling back, we stopped at a small nearby shore, where snacks had already been prepared. A cup of hot chocolate warmed us, lightly filling our stomachs before returning.

The next day, the cruise docked at Skagway, a historic gold rush town at the end of the channel, with a population of fewer than 900. It was full of character: one general store, one post office, one clinic, one school, one police station staffed by five officers, and five churches - each painted a different color, serving a “colorful” congregation.

We joined a gold rush tour to learn about the frenzy of that era. The journey began with a coach ride from the United States into Canada. After lunch, we returned to town on a distinctive black-smoke train.

Back in those days, gold seekers trekked through steep valleys, driving countless mules to their deaths, carving out this chapter of gold rush history. In May, the lakes were still frozen. Standing by a sign in the Yukon, facing east toward Canada, we were admiring the rare blue sky - when, upon turning back, dark clouds had already rolled in, and rain and hail struck our faces in an instant.

No wonder that atop a 3,000-foot mountain, one suddenly feels enveloped in clouds and mist, unable to see beyond a hundred feet. Such scenery is rarely encountered in British Columbia.

Our cruise ship was not new and was now considered mid-sized, which allowed it to get closer to Glacier Bay. The glacier stretched two miles wide and rose over 200 feet high. Over the past fifty years, it has retreated by 68 miles. One female passenger on board had been visiting these glaciers with her husband every year since the 1960s, witnessing firsthand the retreat of nature.

These ice masses, formed over tens of thousands of years and glowing with a pale blue hue—will our descendants still be able to see them fifty years from now?

Our final stop was Ketchikan—translated phonetically as “catch-a-chicken” - known as the rain capital. It either rains or snows year-round. A shop assistant in a souvenir store swore she would flee to sunnier places after the summer. Compared to this, Vancouver’s rain seemed like elementary school level.

Alaska - a world between heaven and earth - can be admired, but not inhabited for long.