Now Alan wants a seaplane

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Remember when we visited New Zealand and Alan wanted a jet boat? Now he’s added a seaplane to the list.

It all started when we docked in Ketchikan on a misty, gray day. Holland America’s Westerdam ship passed by our balcony, and passed by our balcony, then passed by our balcony some more. What a huge ship. I peaked over the railing to see that our ship, Mariner, was wedged between the Westerdam on the left and a large RCL ship on the right. It was going to be a busy day in port.

Colorful buildings spill down the hillside in Ketchikan, coming right up to the dock, making it easy for cruising shop-a-holics to wander from jewelry store to jewelry store. Alan and I hoped to leave most of them behind as we searched for adventure. So, we booked the Misty Fjords Seaplane Adventure, for an air tour of the beautiful, but remote national monument.

A bus transported us from the docks, through the town, depositing us at the Promech Air office. After signing in, we watched as seaplanes floated down from the air, landing gracefully on the water. Soon, a Promech Air employee led our group of six flyers towards our plane. Each passenger had a window seat, as well as headphones for listening to the pre-recorded commentary plus any remarks from pilot, "Captain Larry." I knew I’d be hearing “I want to fly one of these,” when Alan was seated in the front seat next to Captain Larry.

Captain Larry flipped the switch to the motor and we were off. Before long, we had a bird’s eye view of hundreds of islands, some of them perfectly round, crowded with towering Sitka spruce. Boats zipped back and forth through the waterway, ferrying passengers on watery excursions in the fjord or heading for fishing grounds.

The main approach to Misty Fjords was blocked by inclement weather (typical for this area of southeastern Alaska). Picking another route, Captain Larry swooped over a hillside and towards one of the many fjords in the national monument. Unfortunately, we didn’t spot any of the bears, mountain goats or bald eagles that inhabit the forested slopes.

Captain Larry landed the plane gently on the water. “Would you like to step out onto the pontoons?” he asked us. I gripped tightly onto the plane’s door as I backed down the slippery metal steps and inched myself along the pontoon to make room for others. The Alaskan wilderness was beautiful, wet and utterly silent. The only sound came from Alan, who stood on the other side of the plane snapping pictures through the cold mist.

Upon our return, a smiling Alan helped me out of the plane. “I’ve got to get one of these,” he said, patting the plane’s wing. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised.

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