Cliff Keeler

The wife and I recently booked an excursion to Alaska based on recommendations from a peer outdoor writer based in Fairbanks, Alaska. When contacting him, I outlined photography priorities programmed for the trip which strongly included whale viewing and brown bears – preferably with cubs. Everything else was secondary. Without hesitating, he recommended Steele Davis’ “Spirit of Alaska” on Kodiak Island. He didn’t offer a second choice stating that, based on our priorities, Davis’ operation was unexcelled and, furthermore, it was his personal-favorite Alaska destination. As it turned out, he did not steer me wrong.

The timing of our May adventure, unfortunately, was too early for whales. But, we saw bears daily in addition to glassing Rocky Mountain goats by the hundreds, at times we seemed over-run by Sitka deer, red foxes bedded literally outside our cabin and the wealth of marine life from sea lions, orcas, harbor seals, sea otters and a myriad of marine birds from horned puffins to kittiwakes underscored the area’s estimated 400 mating pairs of bald eagles virtually nesting every few hundred yards along the beaches we toured.

Access to “Spirit of Alaska” on Kodiak’s northwest side of the archipelago was by Sea Hawk Air’s float plane service from Near Island in the City of Kodiak. Commercial airline service got us from KCI in Kansas City to Anchorage, Alaska. Original connections via ERA Air to the City of Kodiak’s airport on Kodiak Island were trashed due to an almost two hour late arrival in Anchorage - more on this later. (See sidebar.)

Kodiak Island is actually an archipelago of various sized islands from an acre or more up to three major islands that range up to several hundred square miles each. ERA was scheduled to get us to Kodiak on the last leg of our departure flight by 10:30 pm Alaska time the same day we departed KCI. That didn’t happen.

The City of Kodiak boasts approximately 12,000 residents. Major employment is divided between the fishing industry (more than 650 commercial fishing vessels are registered at The Port of Kodiak, the third largest U.S. fishing port, with about another 120 commercial fishing vessels ported in various Kodiak Island fishing communities), United States Coast Guard (largest U.S.C.G. base in the U.S.) and the tourism industry. Kodiak’s public atmosphere is small-town-how-can-we-help-you everywhere you turn – after once getting there.

We planned our trip to include two days touring the historic City of Kodiak before departing by float plane for the ultimate destination on the NW side of the archipelago. Missed airline connections caused by American Airlines’ 1 ½ hour delay getting off the ground at D.F.W. in Dallas ate up the first day programmed to tour historic City of Kodiak.

The good thing was: Our itinerary had a cushion of two days that prevented us losing time from an irrevocable booking with “Spirit of Alaska.” The only part of the trip offering serious bumps-in-the-road came from airline bookings with American Airlines. Fortunately, they were not disastrous to the inland trip, (other than we missed seeing and sharing the history and culture of one of the oldest and most historic communities in our country’s far north) but they created the worst, and ugliest, travel situation(s) I’ve faced in more than 40-years of business and pleasure travel. (As stated earlier, see sidebar.)

We finally arrived in the City of Kodiak. Our accommodations for the night were at Kodiak’s Best Western – a facility also offering fine dining menus from breakfast continuing through the evening meal. It was an excellent place to stay.

I used a rental car from the airport to get our grocery shopping done while Bev settled into a hot shower and a nap. Our agenda at “Spirit of Alaska” included cooking our own meals. After securing 10-day’s supply of groceries, I took off for Fossil Beach west of town. While I found no fossils on a much tracked-up beach, I did stumble across several bison herds posing with the ocean’s surf in the background. A newborn calf nursed so vigorously, its mother’s leg flew up involuntarily every time the calf butted her udder. While humorous to watch, I commiserated with that poor cow. She was taking a serious beating fulfilling her matronly duty.

The bison are reportedly raised under the auspices of the Burton Ranch. Raising cattle on Kodiak Island, where Kodiak brown bears treated them as an oft-sought snack, proved unprofitable at best. Marketing bison proved much more astute. Besides great demand at higher prices than beef, bison fair much better in fending off bears than cattle. The ox-like animals maintain close knit family/herd alliances. When Mr. or Mrs. Bear challenge a bison, they usually face the rest of the herd as well. When aroused, a single bull bison is absolutely formidable to watch in action – let alone a herd of them.

While traveling through the bison ranch, I passed by the entrance to the Kodiak Launch Complex owned and operated by the Alaska Aerospace Development Corporation - the United States’ only state maintained and operated aerospace launching facility comparable to Cape Canaveral and literally situated at the opposing end of a diagonal line stretching virtually across the entire North American Continent to Florida.

Later, there was time to unwind with an excellent early evening seafood meal at Henry’s opposite the Port of Kodiak where most of the fishing fleet’s vessels were moored. After the hassle and stress of a late arrival with the missed airline connections survived at Anchorage the night before, Bev and I needed little urging to hit the sack early in preparation for a 9:30 am departure via Sea Hawk Air’s float-plane service.

The next morning, after breakfast, Sea Hawk’s shuttle service picked us up in a light rain. Their driver followed me to the airport where I returned the rental car. Then Levi generously returned us to an impressive full line Safeway Grocery Store to get several items forgotten the day before. Once delivered into the bush on the backside of Kodiak Island, we were on our own till returning to “civilization.” Sea Hawk personnel literally bent over backwards to make sure we had everything on our list before departing Kodiak.

Kodiak’s Safeway store even had a Starbucks in it. But the one thing we will best remember it for is the “sticker-shock” experienced there. For example: We paid $5.19 for a loaf of seven grain bread – and all other items were priced accordingly. To be fair, nothing is “trucked” into Kodiak. It is either flown in by air or delivered by that proverbial “slow-boat-to-China” that incidentally stops off at Kodiak. Freight factors in big time on Kodiak City’s retail store shelf prices.

At Sea Hawk Air we met Rolan Ruoss (pronounced Ross) and his partner Jo Murphy. Rolan had our gear loaded and secured in short order in addition to the groceries delivered the day before and held in Sea Hawk’s walk-in coolers till our departure. Both partners could not have greeted us more graciously nor been more solicitous of our preparations for departure.

Bev was about to make her first bush plane flight. After the nightmare arrival in Anchorage with American Airlines, the excitement and thrill looked forward to with this adventurous trip was finally getting us past that initial horrible experience. We were off for the “Wilds of Alaska!”

Rolan held the flight path to between 1000 and 1500 feet MSL (mean sea level). He pointed out isolated communities as we flew over them: Ouzinkie, population 191, Port Lions, population 220 (named after Lions Club International that helped relocate that city when it was destroyed by the 1964 tsunami), and Larsen Bay, population 97, near our final destination.

As Rolan brought the De Havilland Beaver in for a landing in a cove near Larsen Bay, I never recognized when the plane quit being a bird and became a boat. I hold a private pilot’s license and that particular landing on water was technically the best I’ve ever experienced – whether in a commercial aircraft or a private one – on land or water.

Two couple’s waited to load and fly out after our “Spirit of Alaska” host, Steele Davis, and Rolan unloaded our gear from the DeHavilland. The departing guests were bear hunters. Unsuccessful at filling hunting tags, they had four 50-pound cartons of frozen fish they were taking back. They couldn’t quit raving about their experiences.

Steele used a six-wheeler to get our gear several hundred yards up a steady incline to a solitary cabin built well above the beach. It was not visible by air unless directly over it. We discovered we had the entire area virtually to ourselves. Steele’s accommodations were a mile and a half across the bay. While connected by a two-way radio, other than that, we were as isolated as you get in any wilderness location. No phones. No electricity. No radio nor T.V. Propane powered stove and range (nice), propane gas-lights and an oil-stove for heat were the major utilities tucked into one of the most secluded and beautiful settings I’ve ever spent a night in.

We adapted quickly to Cajun style pots of rice combined with shrimp, meat balls, chicken, or turkey slow-cooking on top of that oil stove. Meals were literally served on-demand. This allowed maximum attention to the business at hand – fishing, game viewing and photographing.

We regretfully kenneled Tonga, our Carolina Yellow dog, prior to departure. There was simply no way to consider taking her on this trip. However, we quickly discovered pseudo replacements for her. Three red foxes bedded nightly just outside the cabin’s door. Previous residents had apparently habituated them to people.

Steele named them: Bailee, Reesy (short for Reese’s peanut butter cups), and Misha. Reesy was a cross between the red and black phases.

They often followed us from the beach to the cabin and back again. Bailee and Reesy were virtually there daily while Misha was slightly more irregular. None showed any fear or hesitation about joining our company when they appeared on the scene. I often saw them combing nearby beaches for clams and mussels and whatever other edible they could attempt to claim including when we brought fish back with us.

If not visible when we first arrived back at the cabin’s beach from one of our excursions, the sound of Steele’s voice often brought one of these three critters into view within minutes – if not sooner. I strongly advised Bev to refrain from attempting to touch or pet them in any way. In truth, they are wild animals. It was a strange but delightful situation providing a rare window of observation on such a usually secretive critter.

While Steele adamantly held to a don’t-feed-the-foxes rule, I can’t vouch for what Bev did while Steele and I were off stalking brown bears and other neighbors. As close as those foxes held to her during the entire stay, I have my suspicions. Davis growled at one point about a previous female client that baked biscuits for them. True story!

Bev didn’t always ride with us on fishing and game viewing trips. The chill dampness that prevails during May often encouraged her to stay in the cabin near her new found fox companions while reading. (Unfortunately, both of us contracted chest colds about this time.)

However, our best bear viewing afternoon (counted nineteen) fortunately occurred when Bev rode with us. Steele located a sow combing a beach – with four three-year-old cubs trailing along. As we approached, they held long enough in the brush for them to get a good look at us while we stretched our necks at them. The cubs were about three fourths their mother’s bulk. She obviously did a good job raising them.

Kodiak’s brown bear boars notoriously single out bear cubs. By killing them, the sows come into heat faster. Steele indicated this had become a major problem depressing Kodiak’s brown bear populations.

My past experiences with nature usually revealed that various wild animals’ traits offered solid biological reasons for animals doing what they do to survive. Similar to mothers running off their previous young when it’s time to feather the nest again. But it is difficult to understand why mother-nature wired boar bears to kill their own young at every opportunity.

Occasionally, we took a break and fished. Cod were plentiful. I reeled them in till the activity caused an old injury to my left hand to ache so badly, at times I braced the heavy salt water rods on the boat’s frame in order to keep cranking in fish. Steele had us bumping bottom from 250 to 375 feet down with cut bait.

Often the cod were so loaded with parasites, sometimes to the point they evidenced open sores, we released them. Ten pounders were common and twenty pounders frequented the stringers. We released as many as we kept. It’s a lot of work winching 20-pounders to the surface from such depths only to throw them back!

Twice, I caught a weird looking Irish Lord. It looked like a king sized version of a small fish called sculpins that I’ve seen seined from remote Ozark streams back in Missouri. Steele called them a “mother-in-law” fish – “All mouth and no “south-end.” (I cleaned that up a little.)

We also caught sea-bass. Our venture into Steele’s pet sea-bass hole paid off with a catch that caught even Steele off guard – sort of.

Steele is a bewhiskered, sternly practical, New England transplant to Alaska originally from New Hampshire. A free spirit, he loves his adopted home and the history it embraces along with the bountiful plenty flowing from fertile straits and bays surrounding Kodiak’s archipelago. He revealed some of the area’s ancient Alutiiq Eskimo village sites in addition to the remains of an old trapper’s dugout-cabin with his final resting place marked nearby it.

He recently downed a Rocky Mountain goat with a muzzleloader – because most everyone else said he couldn’t. I witnessed, firsthand, his expertise at tracking and spotting game from extreme distances from his remarkable custom built boat modeled after a WWII LST. He has a feel for his backyard that is a marvel to watch. His backyard, while beautiful beyond belief, can be an unforgiving hell when pushing beyond appropriate limits such as: Approaching dangerous game, handling the boat on the North Pacific’s frigid waters or just landing toothsome fish reeled to the boat.

I quickly learned: There was a right way, a wrong way - and Steele’s way.

Once, after, catching several sea bass, Steele suggested moving to a more productive spot. If we didn’t crank a fish in every few minutes or so, he moved seeking more productive spots. In this case, we began reeling up our lines from a relatively shallow 60-foot bottom so to move to a better location. I got my lure in the boat but Steele hung up about halfway up and couldn’t budge his lure.

We were fishing Shakespeare “Ugly Sticks” with high capacity salt-water reels filled with only 20-pound test line. About what weekend warriors fish with on mid-western bass lakes. With Steele’s rod tip bent down to his hands, whatever was on the other end was obviously more than the rig was designed to usually handle.

Eventually, he somehow managed to pump the huge fish up to where we could see its shadowy outline below the boat – halibut. It looked like a huge manta ray slowly waving its huge fins just under us. Several times in bringing the brute up, he asked if I wanted to take the rod. I kept telling him, “You hooked it, you land it.” Besides I wanted pictures of this fun!

When Steele finally had the huge fish below the boat, he uncharacteristically pleaded, “I can’t land this fish and control the rod too!” I took the rod and followed his directions in maneuvering the “creature from the deep” to his gaff. Finally, he struck with it. He struggled holding the gaff against a huge thrashing fish of obviously more than a hundred pounds while striving to get it on a rope stringer at the same time. Steele stands about 5’10” and, when standing sideways, doesn’t throw much of a shadow. He had his hands full.

Then the fish twisted off the gaff.

Now I had my hands full with a wildly bucking rod. The reel’s drag screamed in protest as a wounded mega-fish streaked for the bottom taking with it more than two-thirds of the spool’s 500-yards of line. With a toothpick of a rod, I carefully, but steadily, led the 100-pound-plus halibut back to the surface. After what seemed an interminable time, it neared the boat again. Apparently recalling what happened its last visit there, it abruptly headed for the bottom once again with the reel’s drag protesting shrilly. Then, we both started over – once again.

This time, the fish eventually came to the boat. Steele again positioned himself with the gaff and prepared to land the fish. When he struck, the rodeo was on again – incredibly with the same frustrating results.

The fish headed for the bottom. The first time it appeared, I took pictures of it just below the boat. At this stage, I remember thinking: “Those are the only shots I’m going to get of this fellow.” But this fourth time that it ran, it only managed to wrestle off 60-75 yards of line against the drag before stopping. It was obviously tiring. The battle approached two hours in length at this point.

I steadily pumped it back the fourth time applying just enough pressure to lead it back to the top – not literally pull it back. Horsing this fellow was not an option on the minimal tackle we had him lassoed with. This time Steele managed to make the gaff hold until he got the fish on a rope stringer. It then thrashed and beat its sizable hulk against the boat’s hull. Spray flew everywhere until it finally calmed down.

It measured 62 ½ inches and weighed approximately 115-pounds. We landed it on a rod and line more appropriate for fishing for bass on a mid-western bass lake. By the picture above, Bev wants all her friends to know that not only was it “taller” than her but it was wider as well.

Steele then showed me the gaff. The fish twisted its steel hook completely out of shape and straightened it each time he sank it in the fish. It was a great fish compared to the minimal tackle used to secure it and by all rights should have escaped. Davis stated he had caught halibut before on light rigs when fishing his pet sea bass holes but this one was the heaviest he managed to land on this light equipment.

I viewed and photographed seals basking on isolated rocky islands in sheltered bays, sea lions cased the boat several times, sea otters played tag with us, Bald Eagles were everywhere, horned puffins, kittiwakes by the thousands, glaucous winged gulls, golden eyes, harlequin ducks, bank swallows, arctic terns, American black oyster catchers and more.

The last day offered one of the most spectacular viewing opportunities of the trip. Bears were scarce that grey overcast day. I was recovering from a severe chest cold and physically spent from the week’s intense action on and off the water. Steele beached the boat so we could glass surrounding beaches and mountains for wildlife.

I remember lying back on a soft bed of moss and drifting off. When I awoke, I glassed a snow covered mountain, across a narrow neck of water, that was slowly revealing its dark undercoating of black shale as spring gnawed away at its snow cover.

Suddenly I realized that many isolated white specks scattered across its face were alive and moving. There were more than a hundred Rocky Mountain goats scattered across the face of that mountain. The Nikon Field Scope scanned it from top to bottom. The mountain was literally covered with goats.

A pair of young kids played king of the mountain. As they worked their way up a rocky outcropping, the larger one in the lead turned and butted the other off the outcropping. It fell some distance before landing heavily on its side. Amazingly, it lit on its feet on the first bounce and charged back up to fall nonchalantly in behind the other one as they continued their climb upwards.

The day before, Steele spotted two bears in some brush some distance away. He focused the spotting scope on them and demanded I take a look. The two bears wrestled and playfully bit each other’s ears and necks. It was obvious it wasn’t a serious fight. It was a form of play. Suddenly one belly-flopped to the ground and the other covered it.

I had just witnessed the mating ritual of two Kodiak brown bears.

Steele’s comment when it ended was, “Now, wasn’t that something!”

Yes Steele. It was. All of it was – at the very least – “something!” Including countless human bones strewn across former ancient native village sites that lie abandoned along Kodiak’s coastlines - another installment for later.

SIDEBAR

Travel Arrangements

First: A declaration:

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With that said, travel arrangements to Kodiak Island from KCI with American Airlines, both going and coming, personally offered the worst travel experience suffered in more than forty years of pleasure and business travel.

Some of it was unavoidable. Weather usually plays a part in flight delays - and for good reasons. Such delays are focused on saving lives. Yet, airlines are also in the business of moving people and helping them meet agendas that passengers paid the airlines handsomely to deliver. The airlines have more responsibility to their customers other than just showing up at the gate to greet paying fares with a smile and an “I’m sorry, we can’t accommodate our obligations to you today because … .” when bumps in the road appear. They don’t refund the price of the tickets if the customer doesn’t show. With that said, the dog had better hunt both ways.

Our travel arrangements included flying from K.C.I. in Kansas City to catch a direct American flight from D.F.W. in Dallas to Anchorage – the latter approximately a six and one half hour flight. We had two hours after scheduled arrival in Anchorage to make our connection with Era Airlines, a subsidiary of Alaskan Airlines, which was scheduled to take us on the final leg to Kodiak City that same evening. While that should have been more than ample, it didn’t happen.

D.F.W. has a history of strange and unpredictable wind shears, even during blue-sky weather painted with unlimited visibility, if certain barometric conditions pose strong winds in that area. At least one plane was lost on landing several years ago with great loss of life. Since that tragic event, current security measures often stack traffic in the skies above the airport that are trying to land and, of course, the same delay goes for those trying to take off.

Those conditions apparently existed prior to our departure for Anchorage. After finally taking off, the captain announced we were an hour and a half late on our schedule. We had a heavy two days planned touring Kodiak City’s unique historical sites, port and incomparable Alutiiq Museum and Archaeological Repository on arrival. The schedule was to prepare us for what we were to see and experience in remote isolated areas scattered down coast lines of North West Kodiak’s archipelago. I immediately tripped the light to talk to a steward. Our trip’s investment had just been put at a significant risk.

At this point, there is no blame from us with American. They were doing their job as well as they could. But, it quickly went downhill from this point on.

I tried to ask the steward (male) for help regarding our connection in Anchorage. In years past, such situations enlisted support from the flight crew, such as radioing ahead and establishing communications with their passengers’ airline connections to attempt as smooth a transition as the delay might allow. The steward cut me off in mid-sentence and, with a glare, informed me I would have to, “… straighten it out on arrival in Anchorage.” It wasn’t, “… their fault and there isn’t anything we can do to help you.” And he curtly ended the conversation and avoided my look the rest of the lengthy flight.

In all the travel years previous to this flight, I never missed a flight in such a situation – until this one. As it turned out, we missed the Era flight by 20-minutes according to Era’s employees when we charged breathlessly up to their gate.

To add insult to injury, the same steward that handled us so curtly on departure smiled “sweetly” as we hurried off the plane to try and salvage our connection, stating, “I hope you enjoy your stay on Kodiak Island.” You had to be there. But right then I fully understood stories previously aired in the media about “belligerent” passengers getting arrested for decking members of flight crews.

After realizing we had missed our Kodiak connection, we were informed the next flight was not until 7:00 am the next morning.

Stranded. No bags. We’re in our 60s and 70s. There wasn’t any way I was going to let Bev spend the night in a chair in the airport. We back-tracked to American’s ticket counter.

After explaining our predicament and asking for vouchers for meals and lodging, I ran into resistance. It, “… wasn’t their fault” “… we can’t issue the vouchers without administration’s approval …” “… administration personnel are preoccupied with …”

I finally quit asking and demanded to see the head of American Airline’s Anchorage personnel. Forty five minutes later, or longer, the same agent brought us vouchers for lodging at Anchorage’s Puffin Inn and for meals as long as they didn’t exceed $10.00 each. Anybody with travel experience in Alaska knows what a joke the meal vouchers were.

My requests for toiletries went unheeded. With no baggage, we had no way to shave, brush teeth, comb hair or any of the other necessities Bev subjects herself to before facing the public. American Airline not only did not assume any responsibility for the connection problems incurred at the moment of departure on a 6 ½ hour flight, they didn’t show the slightest courtesy for our welfare after we determined we were stranded on arrival in Kodiak. What we got out of them, we fought for because I knew it was their responsibility to provide it. Every delaying tactic they could employ was used to try and avoid what they finally did grudgingly provide.

While riding the shuttle to the Puffin Inn much later, I was laying back licking my wounds while Bev related our experience to an Alaskan Airline stewardess named Collette. Collette was laying over at the Puffin Inn as well.

After hearing Bev out, Collette quietly informed she had just resigned her stewardess job with American Airline and transferred to Seattle, Washington to sign on with Alaskan Airlines. She stated, “I had no idea how bad American’s service was until I went to work for Alaskan.”

Regardless what you might think, that statement did not make my day get any better. We were still booked to get home with American. It has virtually always been my experience that in the cold hard world of reality, leopards don’t change their spots.

Part of our trip included fishing. When planning the trip, I wasn’t sure whether devoting time to fishing would be productive. How do you get them home on the airlines?

When I asked that question, I was assured that we were each allowed 50-pounds of frozen fish on the return home. The implication was the frozen fish were allowed for in airline baggage regs to accommodate tourism to the area.

That turned out to be only partially correct. My fault in this was the various airline regs were conflicting and I ASSUMED this statement resolved the confusion. Bad mistake. We were maxed out per American Airline’s checked baggage regs (two properly sized bags each at 50-pounds or less) when departing by American for Alaska.

Alaskan Airlines (Era’s parent) baggage regulations include one 50-pound box of frozen fish gratis per paying fare on return flights home (keyword here) WITHIN the state of Alaska or to any airport their flights terminate at. The latter could be Seattle for instance. I assume (careful with that word!) that would also include Alaskan’s new flights into Chicago’s O’Hare Airport.

Take the following as a disclaimer: All airline passengers should investigate baggage regs for themselves without taking mine or any other word on the subject, print them out and carry them in the same folder they carry their tickets in to avoid the problems we ran into.

When checking baggage at Kodiak’s airport for the return home, the agent took one look at all our luggage, including the boxes of fish, and then, slyly, offered us a concession. That should have been my tip-off trouble was brewing. Someone with an airline appeared to be actually trying to help us get somewhere.

He booked us on an earlier flight to Anchorage. We thought that would help preclude any chance of missing the American leg back to D.F.W. and help us avoid any chance of the same nightmare we experienced on our arrival, so we accepted the offer. While it did that, we ended up facing new challenges because of the changed flight.

Kodiak’s security immediately impounded all our luggage, boxes of fish and us for a complete search. When I asked why, they stated that one of the main ploys terrorists use to attack airlines is to divert to different flights other than those they were originally scheduled to fly.

Also, by booking a different flight, the Era agent stated we must reclaim our baggage at Anchorage, then get it to American check-in and rebook it there for the trip home. While I thought that strange at the time, I now strongly suspect the Era agent foresaw a coming problem and passed it on to American rather than face the issue in Kodiak.

When we claimed our baggage from Era in Anchorage and delivered it to American, the agent there demanded excess baggage fees for the frozen fish to the tune of $80.00 a box or $160.00 total excess baggage charges. It was pay or give them the fish.

Some alternatives to the excess baggage fees for frozen fish for passengers from the Midwest might be Southwest Airlines to Seattle with connections with Alaskan Airlines from there to Alaskan destinations. American Airlines baggage limits are a restrictive two checked bags of proper dimensions and 50-pounds or less to avoid excess charges. Southwest and other airlines permit more ample three-bag check-in limits per paying passenger. This would have avoided the excess fees American charged us to get the fish home. There was no baggage fee charged by Era to get us to Anchorage.

A recent flight to LAX in Los Angeles was scheduled round-trip with Southwest out of K.C.I. Bags were checked curbside both at K.C.I. and LAX by redcap service. Boarding passes were handed to us curbside also. There is no seat assignment with Southwest. Seating is by A,B,C divisions with first come, first served when getting on the plane. There is no first class. After departure, free care-packages are handed out with three bags of snacks in each box. Soft drinks are dispensed free – the entire can – not just a plastic tumbler full. Alcoholic beverages require payment.

Southwest’s curbside service was prompt, from curbside redcaps to on-board stews, with smiles, thankyou’s and handshakes all around. Obvious concerted efforts were made to get passengers onto the aircrafts with on-time departures. It renewed our faith in acceptable airline services designed for passenger comfort and, most importantly, a commitment to getting them there on the schedules Southwest committed to as to departures and arrivals.

Would I go to Alaska again? Absolutely!

But, if the only travel choice was American Airlines, I would strongly advise scheduling enough time to drive the Alaskan Highway to Anchorage. Otherwise I would book a comparable people-oriented airline, such as Alaskan Airline’s systems connected with, say, Southwest, without hesitation. Personally, American Airlines would not rate the slightest consideration.

A final word: It is astute to not take anyone’s word about creative baggage arrangements to Alaska without checking and printing out each airline’s baggage policies prior to scheduling a trip there. We discovered, quite crudely and expensively, virtually not one airline flying in and out of Alaska offers the same baggage allowance. When transferring between airlines, the importance of such planning surfaces when reviewing the example we experienced checking in with a different flight on Kodiak Island than one originally scheduled to start us on the final legs home.

Et Caveat Emptor! (Let the buyer beware!)