Baked Alaska
Part 2: Reclining Postures
We spent only
one day in open sea, but the Gulf of Alaska delivered a
hurricane-strength storm. At Cruisercise class, my yoga
instructor had us do reclining postures because she was
afraid we'd fall down from the rocking of the boat. I watched
the weather channel nervously on the TV in my tiny stateroom.
Eight- to twelve-foot seas. Gale force winds.
I met other
passengers commiserating about seasickness. We quickly learned
to recognize each other on sight. "How're you feeling?"
"That was a big one, wasn't it?" One woman lay
out on deck covered with plaid blankets. I sat down next
to her, and we dispatched her husband for Saltines and ginger
ale. Mist from crashing waves sprayed us up on the 6th deck.
I wore a motion-sickness
patch behind my ear so I wasn't actually sick. But I hated
being alone at 5 a.m., listening to the closet doors slam
open and shut and my lipsticks rolling around in the bathroom.
I got dressed and took the elevator to the lobby. The palm
trees and chandeliers swayed ominously. It felt like a disaster
movie-"The Poseidon Adventure," perhaps. "You
may want to stay in your rooms," the ship's commodore
advised on the PA at 7 a.m.
By 9:30 a.m.
we were safely inside the Inside Passage. But after seeing
the Kenai Fjords, Glacier Bay paled by comparison. Groggy
passengers stayed in their staterooms and watched the whole
thing on TV.
Part 3: It's
the Love Boat
