Day 3: July 9 – Ketchikan and the Clover Pass Bike Ride

We pulled into port at Ketchikan, Alaska this morning at 8 a.m. Our friends in luggage woes, the NC mom and daughter, jettisoned immediately from the ship in an attempt to procure adequate running footwear and other fun things that they shouldn’t have to buy. Thanks again to American Airlines for sucking!


We showered and then had breakfast before disembarking for our Clover Pass Bike Ride, which boasted a “gently rolling paved road.” Gently rolling, my arse. This thing “scenic and invigorating” ride was an education in human punishment. If presented with the choice between the Clover Pass and being waterboarded while being forced to listen to a Ke$ha playlist on repeat, I might choose the latter.


The description warns that, “This tour is not recommended for pregnant women (check), guests with back and/or necks problems (check), guests with limited mobility (okay, that sound like me after the Clover Pass Bike Ride).” I should have known when the description also included, “A signed waiver is required to participate in this tour.” I’m dead.


It was a struggle and I made the entire 11-mile trek, but my legs we wobbly at the midpoint when we did a short nature hike in the Tongass National Forest. As we headed down the path, I honestly thought that I wouldn’t be able to ascend. I thought I’d die and be left as a nice meal for a grizzly. Needless to say, my legs we even more wobbly once the ride was over, but I’m alive…for now.


As for Julia, she made it for about 8 miles of the journey, but decided to bow out when Jared, our tour guide, explained the “ups and down” of the rest of the ride and reiterated the “gently rolling hills” thing. Gently rolling hills, my arse Jared. I’m certain she thought that I’d have to be medivacked out of Ketchikan to the nearest hospital or mortuary facility. But, alas, we are both alive, although maybe not well.


Keep your fingers crossed that all lost luggage meets us in Juneau in the morrow. To borrow a line from Montresor (in Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado”), I have my doubts. Thanks for the quote Ed. It came in handy.


By the way, the postings have been few and far between due to either limited cell or internet availability and the fact that the interwebs cost 50 cents per minute on this vessel. Thanks American! Oh wait, that one’s not their fault.

See photos from today HERE.