After spending nearly a month adventuring through Wrangell–St. Elias and the Chugach Mountains, we thought we were starting to understand Alaska—especially its glaciers. But after a week aboard UnCruise’s Wilderness Legacy, we realized we’d only skimmed the surface.
The arctic is like an iceberg, you can only see 10% by just looking out your window. Alaska is deeper, wilder, and more awe-inducing than you could expect, no matter how much you prepare.
Come sail along with us on our Wild, Woolly, and Wow cruise. See the remarkable scenery through our lens and meet some of the crew who made the wilderness feel like home. This is a long piece, and we’d understand if you just skimmed the surface and looked at the pictures. However, if you dive deep, you can see the wonder waiting for you in America’s final frontier.
Arrival in Juneau
Juneau is a de facto island with 32,000 residents, surrounded by ice fields that block all land access. More than 1.7 million tourists visit annually, with more cruise arrivals than flights. We flew in from Anchorage, but we knew we would have to go by water to see the region. Southeastern Alaska is a physically diverse region of amazing complexity where the mountains (and glaciers) meet the water. It has more than 1,000 islands and more than 18,000 miles of coastline, which equates to about 20% of the coastline of the entire United States.
Cruising was mandatory, but not all cruises are created equal. We love that UnCruise takes care of their guests when they’re with them from the moment they arrive to the bittersweet departure at the end of the trip. Nearly everything was included with our cruise, including food, alcohol, activities, and even airport transportation. An UnCruise driver met us just outside security and whisked us to downtown Juneau, but not before a quick photo op at the Tahku whale sculpture and a brief driving tour through downtown and the waterfront before dropping us off at our hotel in downtown Juneau.
Walking the Waterfront
We woke up to Juneau Harbor draped in a blanket of fog. Despite the massive influx of mega cruise ships, It was still an idyllic port city basking in its gold boom roots. The rows of jewelry stores and gift shops hadn’t yet opened, as the mega cruise customers were still sleeping on their boats. The Goldbelt tram had just started climbing up the 1,800-foot rise up Mount Roberts to the Mountain House, but the gondolas were mostly empty. Mid-September has notorious fickle weather, however our departure day was shaping up beautifully.
The Promise of Alaskan Cruising
The golden glow of morning even made the behemoth cruise ships sparkle. Seven were in port the night before, and two were still moored at the pier come morning. Booths next to the boats offered a plethora of adventures from whale watching to glacier tours. In the still of the morning, this seemed like a splendid way to see Alaska. No wonder almost all of the 1.7 million Juneau visitors end up on a cruise.
The Reality of Alaskan Cruising
Roughly 5000 passengers began to disembark as the sun rose and the fog lifted. They filled the dock as a chaotic throng on a quest for adventure. Some chose shopping, others went on packaged adventures purchased from the booths, or as an add-on to their cruise. Watching the frenzy, I realized that none of them had experienced the quiet of a historic port on a foggy morning.
Why We UnCruise
UnCruise had two ships in the harbor that day, the 86-passenger Wilderness Legacy and the 84-passenger Safari Endeavour—size matters. So does a 3-1 passenger-to-crew ratio, waking up in a remote bay, and never waiting for a gangway to open while staring at a concrete pier.
Walking through town the night before, we met the infamous guide Sam the Man Benavides, who we met on our Hawaii UnCruise and stayed in touch with over Instagram. We recognized us immediately and greeted us with a hug. I think most of all, we were looking forward to curated adventures provided by guides who really knew us, instead of packaged and processed like a boxed lunch.
A Champagne Sendoff
Every commercial vessel must provide a safety briefing upon departure. A YouTube search for “funniest flight attendant” proves these don’t have to be boring. UnCruise provided theirs with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. We also met all the guides who will be leading our expeditions throughout the week, as well as Chef Rachel and Captain Andy.
Mareth, our Lead Guide, explained the daily “6:00 News,” a gathering in the ship’s parlor where they discussed the plans for the upcoming day. Chef Rachel told us that we had a choice of meat, fish, or vegetarian (or all of the above!) for meals. Our Captain, Andy, invited us to visit him on the bridge any time during daylight hours before warning us of incoming weather. He was tracking fronts with 65 mph gusts that were approaching from the open ocean. He said even his backup plans had contingencies, but he believed he could keep us safe and comfortable.
Sunset on Stephens Passage
After the briefing, we headed to the sundeck to watch the last signs of civilization fade behind us as we cruised down the 105 mile long Stephens Passage that runs between Admiralty Island to the west and the Alaska mainland and Douglas Island to the east. Juneau’s sheltered waterways, primarily Stephens Passage and Favorite Channel, are protected parts of the larger Inside Passage that runs over 200 miles from Haines in the north to Port Alexander in the south. The labyrinth of channels, islands, and back bays create a cruising paradise to explore without ever venturing into the open ocean.
There was a slight chill in the air, and enough light in the sky to take Captain Andy up on his offer to visit the bridge. As we cruised, he told us of his adventures on the open ocean on commercial vessels, and some of the Wilderness Legacy’s harrowing crossings to Hawaii and back. It gave us confidence that our ship could take whatever was coming, and comfort that we would be sheltered from the worst of it in the Inside Passage. We floated past the final waterfront cabins outside Juneau right as the sun slipped behind the mountains, signaling that it was time for us to leave the bridge.
Northern Lights Nocturn
We had just returned to our cabin after dinner when an announcement rang out—the northern lights were visible from the stern. We grabbed our layers and rushed outside. The aurora appeared faint to the naked eye, like a greenish haze, but our cameras captured its true radiance.
Lying in bed later, it struck us, Alaska is a wonderland where anything can happen. From mystic lights dancing across the night sky, chance encounters with wildlife, or jaw-dropping natural beauty, Alaska always has more gifts to give you.
Dawn at LeConte Glacier
We awoke in LeConte Bay, home to the southernmost tidewater glacier in the Northern Hemisphere. Only small ships can enter; remnants of a terminal moraine create a shallow sandbar that blocks larger vessels. Even the Wilderness Legacy needed careful navigation and an experienced captain.
A pastel sunrise washed the valley in pinks and oranges. The water was glassy. And far at the back of the bay, the brilliant blue wall of LeConte Glacier glowed in the morning light. This sunrise scene was every bit as beautiful as the foggy morning in Juneau, but we were immersed in the scene with UnCruise, instead of observing life pass by on the dock.
Our LeConte Skiff Tour
Though Mareth had promised multiple activity options, this morning she announced that everyone would be taking skiffs to the glacier—no one was missing LeConte on a day like this.
The Wilderness Legacy has several companion boats, like the polar research vessel RRS Sir David Attenborough has an autonomous submersible, Boaty McBoatface. These support vessels perform functions the mothership can’t do, and sometimes have humorous names.
The Sea Dragon is a portable launch platform and night storage for a small fleet of kayaks and our boarding platform for the skiffs, which are lowered by crane from the top deck. In all, it’s the guide’s command center to get guests out on adventures. It’s also the setup of a joke that ends with seeing them dragging across your face.
We boarded our skiffs and motored toward the ice. As the Wilderness Legacy shrank behind us, thousand-foot cliffs towered overhead. We passed bus-sized icebergs colored electric blue—almost certainly fresh from that morning’s calving.
The Roar of White Thunder
Our skiff captains navigated a maze of ice towards the face of the glacier. They killed the engine and an electric silence rose in its place. I wanted to go closer, until we experienced our first of many calving events.
The Tlingit people have a word for the loud, rumbling sound of glacial calving – white thunder. It started with a low rumble as the ice sheared across a thousand fissures, until huge chunks plummeted into the water with a splash. We were close enough to feel the skiff climbing up and over the waves, which turns out, was close enough.
Life on the Ice
Our guides explained that LeConte Glacier moves nearly 90 feet a day—about six miles a year. Snowfall that landed three or four years ago is only now reaching the ocean. Along the way, life flourishes: glacier mice (those mysterious moss balls that somehow roll across the ice), microscopic tardigrades, and more. When nutrient-rich ice calves into the water, it feeds schools of fish, which draw in herds of harbor seals and the gulls that hover above, waiting for leftovers. This food web stretches all the way down to Hawaii, where humpback whales—Alaska’s great arctic ambassadors—migrate each winter on one of the longest journeys on Earth.
We were fully immersed—touching ice, hearing calving, smelling the crisp glacial air. I only wish they had told me about the ice worms before I licked a chunk of an iceberg.
Sunday Sunning
Glaciers create their own microclimates. Twenty-five miles of ice does that. Near the face, it was choppy and chilly. We pulled anchor and relocated farther out in the bay with warm sun and calm water. Harbor seals sprawled on ice flows like sunbathers inviting us out to explore. We couldn’t wait to try our hand at sea kayaking, but we had to pass kayaking 101 first.
Kayaking 101
Our guides put us through a quick kayaking class before we could enter the water. We were issued kayak life vests for the duration of the trip and given basic instructions. Wait until you’re called to enter the Sea Dragon. All you need to do is sit in the boat on the launch slip. Your guides will adjust your life vest and foot pegs before sliding your boat in the water. If you have trouble in the water, raise your paddle and your guides will take care of it. When your kayaks are entering or exiting the Sea Dragon, put your paddle forward so you don’t hit your guides. UnCruise doesn’t just take you kayaking—they make it concierge kayaking.
We gathered in the Pesky Barnacle, a small lounge at the back of the boat, and fitted our life vest before proceeding to the Sea Dragon. When it was our turn to launch, the guides pulled a kayak from the multicolor kayak fan floating behind the boat. Before we knew it, we were kayaking on a blue bird day between blue ice floats, and not feeling any bit of the blues.
Paddling Le Conte Bay
We set out with no agenda other than to explore. Captain Andy did the hard work getting the Wilderness Legacy into Le Conte Bay. All we were doing was changing our perspective and getting a taste of the wild. There’s always a hum of engines and pumps on a ship, but a stillness engulfed us as soon as we set out. We could hear the gulls and tumbling waterfalls and the occasional rumble of white thunder from the distant glacier. Small icebergs floated by us with remarkably intricate crystal patterns and a distant waterfall tumbled into the bay. We soaked in the sun and the memories of just floating through this idyllic scene. No crowds. Just the quiet rhythm of paddles on water.
We returned to cocktails, hors d’oeuvres, the 6:00 News where we learned about tomorrow’s adventures, and Chef Rachel’s butter-poached halibut—a highlight among highlights.
Thomas Bay and Devil’s Country or Geey Nana and Kóoshdaa Káa
We traveled just 20 miles overnight to Thomas Bay. In true American fashion, U.S. Navy officer Charles M. Thomas named the bay after himself for surveying the area in the late 1880s. But that’s not the strangest story ever told about the place, which is probably the ubiquitously titled piece, The Strangest Story Ever Told.
In this autobiographical tale, prospector Harry Culp met a group of hairy humanoids by Ess Lake. Of course, the lake is shaped like an “S” with a name as fitting as Turnagain Arm (turn again, this isn’t the Northwest Passage). He found a promising piece of gold quartz and went to the ridgeline to get his bearings. From his vantage point he saw the creatures approaching and ran like hell all the way back to Seattle.
We can lament the anglicisation of Alaskan names, but that doesn’t mean they’re less literal than their native counterparts. The Tlingit name for the bay is Geey Nana, or Bay of Death, for a 1750 landslide that buried an entire village, killing over 500 people. However, in the words of my favorite television squatcher, I want to believe. What if that name is a double entendre for the presence of the half-human, half-otter creatures the Tlingit call kóoshdaa káa? The truth is out there, and the only way to find out is to put boots on the ground.
Putting Boots on the Ground
We purchased and packed waterproof hiking boots for the trip that we never used because UnCruise issued all passengers calf high rubber boots. Initially, I thought the boot height was an overkill, until I realized just how muddy it can get hiking in the trackless wilderness of the world’s northernmost rainforest. It didn’t take long before we understood why rubber boots are the unofficial footwear of Alaska. They’re grippy enough for the rocky intertidal zones, comfortable enough to cruise through the pockets of old-growth spruce and hemlocks, and high enough to keep your feet dry in boggy muskegs if you’re careful. If you’re not careful, they will fall prey to the aptly named boot eating mud.
The reward for getting boots on the ground is that we were immersed in a unique history and diverse biosphere. From towering Sitka spruce to thumbsize lichen, life was everywhere. We weren’t really worried about encountering rouge kóoshdaa káa as all shore trips are led by UnCruise’s intrepid guides, who are all certified Wilderness First Responders that carry bear kits. If the bear spray and noise makers don’t work, the protocol was to stand behind the guide and let them shield us with their bodies, an offer I found acceptable. Whether myth or metaphor, the wildness is real, and the only way to explore it is on foot.
All Day Whack and Yak
I chose the All-Day Whack and Yak, channeling my inner Harry Culp and his canoe based prospecting. We were the first group off the Sea Dragon on a gray, September morning and paddled across the bay to Ruth Island. Culp himself camped on Ruth Island before heading up the Patterson River to Ess Lake. We pulled into a sheltered bay, which could very well have been where Culp stayed on his fateful journey. There was evidence of inhabitation in the landing area, including a discarded water trough.
We left the rocky shore and quickly found ourselves wandering through highbush blueberries taller than our heads. I was glad that I packed waterproof clothing because everything was wet, even though it wasn’t raining. We contoured around the hillside to a small lake where we had lunch, before following that drainage back to the kayaks.
During our first night orientation, the guides demonstrated bushwacking by crawling around, under, and through everybody in the lounge. It wasn’t so bad in person, as we always seemed to be following some kind of game trail, and we didn’t see any devil creatures. After a full day, I was wet enough and tired enough to set a stiff pace on the yak back to the boat.
Skiff and Scoot
Jenn’s day was a little less extreme, with an adventure we dubbed as the “Skiff and Scoot”. She started her day with a skiff tour of Thomas Bay. At some times in the past, these tours have gone to Baird Glacier. Perhaps the tides were against them this morning or the trips have been postponed now that the terminal moraine has deteriorated. Regardless, they poked around in some pretty little bays before returning to the boat for a hot lunch.
After lunch, they returned to the shore for a rare and special treat, a hike on an actual trail to a waterfall. There were waterfalls everywhere we went, but this was the only trail we would encounter. The hike up the Cascade Creek Waterfall Trail led to the namesake falls, including a picturesque wooden bridge along the way. Jenn described the hike as bushwhack lite, and was thankful for her rubber boots as well.
Waterfall Cove
Yesterday’s gray morning was a harbinger of the incoming weather, but Captain Andy had been busy making plans and backup plans. We sailed overnight to Waterfall Cove on the leeward side of Baranof Island overnight and awoke under a blanket of fog.
Once again, we decided to divide and conquer the morning activity, with me taking another bushwhack and Jenn another skiff tour, before rejoining in the afternoon for kayaking.
Reaching New Heights
Yesterday’s bushwack on Ruth Island left me hungry for more – more miles, more diversity, more views. I got all of that in spades. We boarded the skiff and motored off into the fog to the next cove up the coast. We stepped onto a rocky beach and watched the skiff disappear into the fog as it returned to the boat. As the fog swallowed the last sounds from the motor, we realized how alone we were in the wilds of Alaska.
An old growth forest was waiting for us a few steps off the shore, which felt like a super highway compared to yesterday’s endless blueberry bushes. We climbed slowly away from the coast and emerged into an expansive muskeg that spread to the horizon. Following a soft spine, we continued up and out of the bog to exposed bedrock on the ridgeline.
It took us about an hour to climb 550’ to a prominent overlook. From our vantage point, we could see Uncruise skiffs heading up the coast to parts unknown. The trip back seemed to flash by, and our skiff was waiting for us at the beach where we started.
Hidden Falls Hatchery
I felt confident in my activity choice, until I started seeing the photos from Jenn’s skiff tour to Hidden Falls Hatchery. About a half dozen bears and cubs were hanging around the fish chute catching their fill for winter. They were big and derpy, just waiting for the swimming buffet to come to them. The momma bear working the top of the chute seemed to have the best spot, pulling fish after fish out for her cubs, but that didn’t stop the bachelor bears from working the lower entrance. When they weren’t actively fishing or eating, the bears would be lounging around in poses completely unfitting for an alpha predator.
The fish fed more than the bears. A flock of gulls fought over scraps while rafts of otters circle, waiting for their turn. The night before, I saw interpretive signs on board that said how important the salmon run is for the entire ecosystem, including trees. Around 70% of the nitrogen found near salmon streams comes from the fish, making the Tongass a “salmon forest.”
Captain Dan Blanchard
We’ve met and interviewed Captain Dan Blanchard, the CEO of UnCruise Adventures, several times, and we always joke that he’s the CEO we’d most want to be stranded on a deserted island with. He’s the kind of leader who could probably get you home safely—and keep you thoroughly entertained along the way. We hoped to see Dan on this trip, but he was busy leading a Tongass Roadless Rally, protesting a planned executive order that would rescind the forest’s longstanding protections.
Roads invite logging and erosion, which cloud the pristine streams salmon rely on to survive. And when salmon suffer, so does everything else: tourism—the largest private employer in Southeast Alaska—fishing industries that generate billions each year, and the entire ecosystem that depends on salmon returning to those clear waters to spawn.
Free Kayak in Takatz Bay
Jenn and I compared photos over lunch as the boat took a short cruise down the coast to Takatz Bay. The autumn sun had burned through the morning marine layer for a brilliant blue afternoon. We took advantage of the fleeting fall splendor on a free kayak around the bay. Our rules were simple, stay within sight of the boat or they’ll come and get us.
That gave us plenty of space to explore the waterfalls tumbling down the hillsides and search for bald eagles in the tree tops. Even though the sun was warm, the clouds foretold incoming weather. We returned to the Wilderness Legacy in time for happy hour snacks and an evening of food and friendship.
Weathering the Storm in Pavlof Harbor
The Admiralty, Baranof, and Chichagof islands are often called the ABC islands. Unlike Dutch ABC islands of Aruba, Bonaire, and Curaçao, which lie in the Southern Caribbean Dry Zone, Alaska’s ABCs are notoriously wet. This was particularly true this morning, as we woke to torrential rain in Pavlof Harbor on the leeward side of Chichagof Island. Rows of 2,500’ tall hills to our west sheltered us from the brunt of the winds, but we weren’t feeling particularly motivated to leave the ship’s warmth.
We were greeted that morning by a ray of sunshine in Chef Rachel’s morning address. She’s a short and spirited woman with a thick east coast accent and an abundance of tattoos. Like Pavlov’s bell, it didn’t take long for her voice and enthusiasm to make me hungry, even if I was already eating a cooked to order breakfast with extra bacon. Oftentimes, her colorful descriptions of our dinner options make me want to order a little of the meat, seafood, and vegetarian selections simultaneously. “I’m gonna to cook it down with butta and squirt some herbs all ova it.”
We knew yesterday that this weather was coming, and opted out of our morning excursions to spend a little time getting to know Chef Rachel.
What a Long Strange Trip It’s Been
Chef Rachel Chittenden grew up in Connecticut, but wasn’t anything like a Stepford Wife, as evidenced by thick accent and wildly independent personality. She said she fell in love with food early, which motivated her to work her way through culinary school—sometimes literally sleeping in her car on weekends so she could wash dishes at the Boston restaurant where she hoped to intern.
After rising to sous chef roles in Boston’s Kenmore Square, she made a radical pivot for the sake of her health and longevity in the industry. She joined the Maine Department of Corrections, first in a juvenile facility and later in adult prisons, where she managed large-scale kitchens, taught cooking skills, and honed the leadership style she still uses today. That experience prepared her for her next bold move: cooking in Antarctica at McMurdo Station during the onset of COVID-19, an isolating, intense, and life-changing season that showed her how far food—and resilience—could take her.
Returning home from Antarctica with a desire to keep traveling for work, Rachel pursued shipboard culinary roles. After gaining experience (and learning what she didn’t want in an employer) with another expedition line, she joined UnCruise—and quickly realized she’d found her place.
Alaska is New England on Steroids
Chef Rachel spoke of UnCruise with unmistakable loyalty, describing the company as respectful, trusting, and empowering in a way she’d never experienced before. Onboard, she runs a collaborative, tight-knit galley team—her pastry chef and sous chefs operate like family—and, speaking for the guests, we love her for her candor, humor, and morning “real talk” over the microphone. Rachel says UnCruise’s culture of authenticity allows her to show up fully as herself while delivering the highest-quality food possible.
Her connection to Alaska has deepened through cooking its ingredients. Drawing on her New England roots, she called Alaska “New England on steroids”—familiar in its coastal sensibility but elevated through bigger, fresher, wilder ingredients. She was especially reverent about local halibut, which she treats with meticulous care.
We asked her how she brought Alaska to the guests, and she told us how she works closely with guides to incorporate seasonal elements like spruce tips. Despite the challenges of provisioning a ship, we watched her and her team create thoughtful, place-driven menus that highlight Alaska’s character. Whether butter-poaching halibut, boiling crab for 80 guests, or crafting flavor pairings with her pastry chef, we saw how Rachel infuses her cooking with passion, precision, and a deep love for the landscapes—and people—around her.
Bears Bears Everywheres
Our morning passed quickly as Chef Rachel was even more entertaining one on one than she was over the morning microphone. Pretty soon, she had to bid us adieu to prepare lunch, so we headed to the top deck for a little hot tubbing. The rain had subsided enough that we felt comfortable putting the safari lens on our DSLR in preparation for our afternoon skiff tour. That was our second best decision of the day, after spending the morning with Chef Rachel.
We boarded the skiffs after lunch but we didn’t go far. We could still see the Wilderness Explorer as well pulled into the Pavlof Creek, but we could also see about a dozen bears feasting on the salmon run up Pavlof Lake. There were some private boaters on the viewing platform on the north side of the creek, so we stayed in our boats.
Ethical Bear Watching
Either by land or sea, you could get within 75 yards of these magnificent creatures, and watch them feasting for their winter slumber. The afternoon was like the fish hatchery all over again, with a more natural backdrop, and more bears that took turns approaching from the underbrush, fishing at the falls, and then disappearing again into the thick foliage.
When we imagined how many bears there must be waiting in the bushes on the fifth largest island in the United States, we were just as happy photographing from the boat and being part of our real life nature show.
Outlasting Neka Bay
Jenn is a reality TV junky, she’s always down for Real Housewives of wherever, but as we were getting ready for this trip,we delved into the Alaska genre head first. Of course we were familiar with Ice Road Truckers and Deadliest Catch, but since we were going to McCarthy as guests of Neil Darish on this trip, we had to binge some Edge of Alaska.
Alaska is truly America’s last frontier, and these shows capture the wildness and wilderness waiting beyond the roads and trails of the Lower 48. Neka Bay was the filming location for the first season of Outlast, so we knew that we’d have to do a little bushwhacking to capture the experience.
A Whack and a Half
Jenn chose a bushwhacking light tour that stayed in the tidal flats on coastal old growth forest where travel was easy. I did a trip that we called a Whack and Half, more so for its difficulty than length. The first quarter of the hike felt similar to the start of Waterfall Cove, where we traveled easily from coast, through forest, and into the muskeg. We felt so good, in fact, that we opted for a loop trip instead of an out-and-back, and that’s when things got sticky.
Instead of following a dry cornice to the ridgeline, we headed straight for the saddle. The brush got thick as soon as we climbed out of the bog and was filled with my least favorite Alaskan plant, devil’s club. The name comes from its thorny stems that you don’t want to touch, even with gloves on. It’s the type of plant that you walk around, even if it means you’re busting through thick brush instead. Its only redeeming quality is that it turns bright orange in the fall, so it’s easy to spot, but not always easy to avoid.
Heading Home
After clearing the saddle, we came across another muskeg and it felt like we were going to cruise back to the coast. Alaska had other ideas. We had to cross a series of ravines draining the wetlands. The devil’s claw was back, only instead of re-routing us into thick brush it pushed us up and down the steep banks of the ravines.
We were at least an hour late, but our guide stayed in radio communications with the guides back on the Wilderness Explorer. They knew we’d be ok, but he apparently owed Chef Rachel for delaying her midday meal. The sound of the approaching skiff to get back to the boat was glorious, and the hot lunch on board tasted oh so good. It was a glorious adventure, once we were warm and dry.
Getting to Know Our Guides
We felt we earned an afternoon off after our adventures, so we took some time to get to know our guides, starting with Expedition Leader Mareth Griffith. We learned she was originally from West Virginia, but came north after college to meet cousins she’d never met—and never left.
She cut her teeth as a kayak guide and eventually a guide program manager at Kenai Fjords Glacier Lodge, where she kept meeting guests who had just come off an UnCruise trip and “would not shut up” about how incredible it was. The consistency of those rave reviews convinced her that UnCruise was doing something special. In 2015 she joined the team, first seasonally and then full-time, settling into a life shaped by tides, trails, and the rhythm of wild Alaska.
On board, Mareth says she brings a deeply adaptive approach to expedition travel. She explained that UnCruise itineraries are built more around seasonal conditions than rigid routes, giving the team freedom to choose the best locations for wilderness, wildlife, and weather on any given day. I, for one, appreciate that she gave us the freedom to try our Whack and a Half, and provided us with the guides and equipment to do it safely.
Uncruise’s Guide Team
UnCruise’s flexibility—combined with more land access in the Tongass National Forest than any operator—lets guests experience Southeast Alaska the way it actually behaves, not the way a brochure dictates. Whether we were navigating rainstorms, shifting tides, or wildlife opportunities, Mareth’s guide team tailors every outing to the abilities of the guests, from relaxed skiff tours to bushwhacks and kayak adventures. She said she has seen everyone from infants to 90-year-olds participate, and she loves helping people who “don’t think of themselves as outdoorsy” discover they’re far more capable than they imagined. We know, for us, it’s the UnCruise guides and activities that sets these trips apart from other cruises.
We also learned for Mareth, the heart of the job is safety, stewardship, and sharing something that changed her own life. She said all guides carry Wilderness First Responder certifications, renew skills annually, and benefit from UnCruise’s famously high rate of returning staff. But beyond the logistics, she believes the true luxury of expedition cruising isn’t white-glove amenities—it’s access to intact wilderness. She hopes guests come away not just with photos of bears, puffins, and glaciers, but with a deeper connection to Alaska’s fragile wild spaces. “They’re not making more wilderness,” she says. “If people see it—and really feel it—they’ll care about protecting it.”
That night we feasted on all-you-can-eat dungeness crab (smothered in butta) before falling asleep to dreams of Glacier Bay. Our permit opened at midnight, and we planned to sail over 50 miles through the bay at night so we’d be in prime position come morning.
The Magic of Glacier Bay
Glacier Bay National Park is a UNESCO World Heritage site known for its stunning glaciers, fjords, and diverse wildlife. It is a living laboratory for studying glacial retreat and the largest international protected area in the world. Our target was the Johns Hopkins Glacier at the end of Johns Hopkins Inlet, in the farthest northwest of the Glacier, over 50 miles beyond from the mouth of Glacier Bay.
We woke to a cold and foggy morning in one of the most beautiful places on Earth. We eagerly set out on a morning kayak tour through floating blue ice to the terminal moraine of the glacier. We heard about the snowbound ring of peaks surrounding the inlet, but we could barely see the face of the glacier through the fog. We could also barely see the mega cruise ships, who we imagined were wondering how they could be kayaking at tidewater glacier instead of staring into the fog and hearing stories about how beautiful the glaciers were.
Taking the Polar Plunge
We love UnCruise for immersive experiences that you’ll never get from a mega cruise. We also learned to be careful what you ask for, when that’s immersion in glacier melt. The polar plunge is an Uncruise staple that I wasn’t going to pass up.
I wondered what I was doing standing in line to jump into literally, ice cold water. I had the same question when I was in the air. When I hit the water, everything came into focus. I realized how extreme these conditions are, and how lucky we are to have the Wilderness Explorer as a home base for explorations and adventures. I dried off quickly, and headed back to our room for a hot shower. Then, with my warm, dry, fuzzy clothes on, I came down for a hot lunch.
Waterfront Wildlife
We spent our final afternoon watching wildlife from the boat. There are over 1,000 glaciers in Glacier Bay, with seven of them being active tidewater glaciers that calve into the bay. Every glacier brings in biomass, creating abundant life around every corner. We hoped to see puffins on the cliffs, but they tend to go to the open ocean during storms. Some people claimed to see goats, but I couldn’t. So far, we weren’t off to a good start.
We had made our way down to South Marble Island for happy hour, snacking on hors d’oeuvres and watching noisy colonies of sea lions squawking on the rocks as sea otters swam just offshore.
Not Whale Watching on Glacier Bay
Whale watching is strictly prohibited in Glacier Bay, and we could tell Captain Andy took it seriously because he came over the intercom to announce a whale spotting. Then we heard the engines rev up to end our casual wildlife cruise.
We would have been content with our day, but Alaska had one more surprise for us. As we pulled away South Marble, we came across a huge orca pod. We followed the pod until we lost daylight, watching thirty plus killer whales surfacing in small groups, with many mother-child pairs. Not only was every guest on deck watching the show, but nearly the entire crew was out and filming this remarkable event.
Goodbye’s Too Good a Word, So I’ll Just Say Fare Thee Well
We awoke the next morning on the dock in Juneau where we left a week earlier. It wasn’t just that gray skies had replaced the blue bird weather of our departure. We felt sadness leaving this amazing land, and separating from our new friends we made during our voyage. The entire crew came out to wish us “fare thee well”, and we were back in the first town we had seen for an entire week.
We walked the boardwalk up to the Tahku Whale Sculpture, and reflected on how fitting humpback whales are as the ambassadors of the arctic. They are big and beautiful, but rely on a chain of life starting with the smallest creatures being carried to the sea of a frozen river of ice. We had our best bald eagle sighting of the trip sitting on the top of a totem pole along the Juneau Seawalk, and understood that even though we were in the state’s capital city, wilderness was just around the corner.
As we said our goodbyes throughout the day, we knew they weren’t final. We would definitely come back to UnCruise again, and we built friendships and memories that can last a lifetime.
Hi! We are Jenn and Ed Coleman aka Coleman Concierge. In a nutshell, we are a Huntsville-based Gen X couple sharing our stories of amazing adventures through activity-driven transformational and experiential travel.
