I read this essay in a magazine in early December, would like to share it here:
December 2008 issue of "Destinations"
Sharing Solitude with Strangers
By Andrew Hinds
When my wife suggested we exchange our credits for a cruise, I was skeptical. We had never gone on one before, but I was curious about it. I must admit the prospect of a vacation without the pressures and expectations of our typical ambitious quests appealed to me.
What my wife had in mind was not what I had envisioned as a “typical” cruise, but rather a trip up the Inland Passage of Alaska. Th e Norwegian Pearl, a state-of-the-art, environmentally conscious, amenity-laden leviathan, promised Norwegian Cruise Line’s signature “Freestyle Cruising,” in which passengers choose when and where they engage in shipboard activities. This seemed like a great compromise between adventure and relaxation; we could have the freedom of a wide range of options, but we would not be compelled to make decisions of any greater consequence than dinner plans.
To attempt to convey the awe that the Alaskan coast inspires in even a hundred pages of prose would be an exercise in futility. You simply have to experience it in person to appreciate the complicated effects this rugged country has on the mind, body and soul.
While our ship drifted through the mist of Glacier Bay, I watched and listened as the other passengers crowded the rails, absorbed in the spectacle of geological processes coming to life before their eyes and ears. As a park ranger narrated intermittently over the loudspeaker, my wife and I made the same kinds of comments to each other that the other passengers made. No one was immune to the shift in perspective that occurs when suddenly your context is millennia rather than months, geological formations rather than backyards. Our ship was a tiny observation deck, flotsam skirting an indiff erent harbor. Everyone aboard knew that we were in the rare position of witnessing a colossal metamorphosis that had been taking place for thousands of years, and we spoke in hushed reverence.
Suddenly, I was overcome by a feeling of kinship with my fellow travelers as we shared this transformative experience. Although not everyone onboard was American, we were all contemplating a symbol of the earliest days of the young country – a dramatic, forbidding landscape, approached by humans boldly, but with an appropriate sense of humility. It was a reminder not only of our past, but also of our futures, as these wild spaces become even more scarce.
I considered how we must look to the bald eagles perched in the cedars – a mass of humanity, virtually indistinguishable from one another, bobbing along in an inhospitable environment for reasons that not only elude the animals who live here, but are diffi cult for us to express as well. Despite all of our diff erent values and backgrounds and despite how we would behave when the cruise was a distant memory, we were all celebrating our complex relationship to a country and a planet that is both vulnerable and overwhelmingly powerful.
In our travels up until now, my wife and I had always sought out unique and exciting experiences in far-flung places to share with each other, our families and close friends. While these intimate encounters will always remain precious to us, sharing a quietly transcendent moment with a ship full of fellow travelers has given us a new lens through which to observe the world and new paths to consider as we plan our future journeys.
