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The local touch When the big ships arrive, the town is transformed into a veritable fairground. Local traders are out in force toting their wares and tiny tour companies whisk batches of tourists around the town to the museum and other local attractions like Chief Shakes House. I can't helo
but feel that these folk, while lavished with all the trappings of the giant crulse ship, are missing out on the genuine local touch. Australians are travelling to Alaska in
Above: The Chutine Warrior and above right: BYO lunch!
Off the tourist trail and
disappearing into the Alaskan wilderness, Roderick Eime tastes its true outdoors. he two mighty VB engines erupt into a loud, angry growi and the little jet boat begins to spin wildly in the rough, white water. Passengers are screaming, hanging on for dear life as the scenery of sheer jagged cliffs and enormous boulders whiz past, barely metres away. Then
suddenly we lurch to a violent halt, followed by a deluge over the stern that inundates those clinging desperately to the railings "How's that?" yells Jim from the shelter of the tiny wheelhouse. "Fantastic!" comes the exuberant reply from the saturated clients, still shaking the chilly mountain water from their hair and spray jackets. Skipper Jim Leslie is not a show-off, but after some gentle coaxing will execute a hair-raising '360' for the sheer thrill of it. Husband and wife team Jim and Wilma Leslie
operate Alaska Waters, a tour company in the little town of Wrangell, tucked into a sheltered bay on the island of the same name. Wilma. a proud first nation woman, and Jim, a dedicated outdoorsman with tough military training, conduct personalised, small group tours from the quaint little fishing hamlet that is almost dormant between weekly visits from huge
cruise liners. Jim and Wilma have become de facto tourism ambassadors for the town, representing the communitys interests at government level.
TEAVEI FAOTS How to get there: Alaska Airlines flies daily to Wrangell from Seattle or Juneau. The Alaska Marine Highwaffeny system visits Wrangell four times a week in summer.
record numbers, the majority enjoying well-rehearsed and orchestrated experiences that expose travellers on brief itineraries to the substantial natural beauty of this abundant land. But those with a more independent bent can 'jump ship' at any of the little ports and experience true small town Alaska. This one-on-one experience delivers a totally different perspective on travel to this great wilderness area of North America.
Jim and Wilma's signature adventure tour is a two-night, white-water wilderness expedition up the magnificent Stikine River into the largely uninhabited forests of British Columbia. Jim pilots Ihe Chutine Warrior upstream for six hours, through wide shallow flats bordered by sheer majestic peaks and dense wooded fringes. About halfway, Jim pulls up to a small island for a barbecue lunch. The island he calls Devil's Elbow is a handy refuge. Safely ashore, he can put down his heavy weapon, the last line of defence against inquisitive grizzly or black bears, and can cook some sausages. Animal paw prints decorate the narrow silt beach, interspersed with impressions from moose, bears and even a wolf, attesting to the abundance of big game roaming the neighbourhood. The adventure culminates in a stay at the quaint Riversong Lodge way up the Stikine River in the
forgotten backblocks of British Columbia, where some local touring and spirited jetboat adventures take place. Wrangell, as an example, is not driven by an allconsuming tourism agenda. Behind the dockside commercial centre is a quiet village surrounded by some of the most magnificent scenery imaginable. A small wooded hill overlooking the town is carefully landscaped to include a walking trail and lookout while a nine-hole golf course is also on offer. In my mind, Wrangell is an authentic microcosm
of small town Alaska. Quirky, quaint, rough around the edges maybe, but with an infinitely wholesome down-to-earth appeal that left this writer feeling a warm satisfaction and a bonding affection with the townsfolk who welcomed me so heartilv for a few scant days one July.