The ship docked literally in wilderness — no tourist traps, no jewelry stores, no fake frontier facades. The pier is the restored Hoonah Packing Company cannery, built in 1912 and once Alaska's most productive salmon processing plant. In 1917, it packed a record-breaking 152,505 cases of salmon. The air smelled of salt, spruce, and alder smoke from beach fires. Everything here — every shop, every tour, every restaurant — is owned by the Huna Tlingit through their Huna Totem Corporation. All profits go directly to the community of Hoonah. This isn't corporate cruise tourism; it's Indigenous economic self-determination, and you feel the difference immediately.

We did whale watching first thing — a small boat departed directly from the dock, and within 20 minutes we were surrounded by humpbacks at Point Adolphus. One breaching male launched completely clear of the water seven times in a row while our Tlingit guide quietly said "he's showing off for you — that's a gift." The sound of 40 tons hitting the water is thunderous and humbling. I also spotted Steller sea lions on rocky haul-outs, tufted puffins rafting like little footballs on the swells, and Dall's porpoises riding our bow wave. Our guide said Point Adolphus is better than Juneau for whale watching because the nutrient-rich waters where Icy Strait meets the ocean create a feeding ground that draws humpbacks from across Southeast Alaska.

Then came the ZipRider — and I need to be honest here. I'm terrified of heights, but my wife insisted. The numbers: 5,330 feet long, 1,300-foot vertical drop, speeds up to 65 mph. You sit in a harness chair at the top of a mountain, look down at rainforest and Port Frederick spread below you, and then you just... fall. The 90-second ride is simultaneously the most terrifying and exhilarating thing I've ever done. I screamed the entire way down, laughed when I landed, and immediately wanted to do it again. The view of glacial peaks, forested islands, and distant open ocean is absolutely worth the fear.

Lunch was fresh Dungeness crab cracked tableside at the Crab Station ($35-45 for a generous portion) and reindeer sausage grilled over alder wood ($12). We sat on the beach eating while ravens tried to steal fries from tourists who weren't paying attention. The setting was genuinely surreal — a beautifully restored historic cannery, towering forested mountains, bald eagles circling overhead, and authentic Alaska hospitality. However, unlike other cruise ports, there's no franchise restaurants or chain stores. Everything is local, authentic, and Tlingit-owned.

The afternoon forest trail walk took us on boardwalks through old-growth Sitka spruce and western hemlock. Interpretive signs in both Tlingit and English explained the traditional uses of plants — which bark makes rope, which berries are edible, which roots cure ailments. Bear scat was everywhere (fresh, too), but we made noise on the trails as instructed and saw only the back end of one brown bear disappearing into the brush. Our guide explained that the Huna Tlingit were displaced from Glacier Bay by advancing glaciers in the 1750s and established the permanent village of Hoonah; this land has been their home for over 10,000 years.

I visited the cultural center where Tlingit elders demonstrated traditional weaving and carving. A master carver was working on a canoe — the first ocean-going canoe built in Hoonah in over 100 years. He let me touch the adze marks and explained that the cedar came from a tree struck by lightning, which the Tlingit consider spiritually significant. These weren't performances for tourists; these were artisans doing their work and allowing visitors to watch.

The pros: this is the most authentic Alaska experience you'll get on a megaship cruise — genuine wilderness, exceptional wildlife, Indigenous-owned and operated, and zero cruise-ship kitsch. All profits stay in the local community.

The cons: only one or two ships visit per day due to limited pier capacity, so excursions book up fast. The port is small — you can see everything in 4-5 hours — though that's actually refreshing after the chaos of larger ports. Weather can turn quickly, so be prepared for rain even on sunny mornings.

Practical tips: Book whale watching and ZipRider as early as possible — they sell out weeks before sailing. Do the zipline first thing or last to avoid midday lines. Wear layers and bring rain gear. The free shuttle to Hoonah village is worth the trip if you want to see a real working Alaska Native community rather than a tourist zone.

What I learned at Icy Strait Point has stayed with me longer than the adrenaline of the zipline or the wonder of the whales. Here was a community that chose sovereignty over easy money — 100% Tlingit-owned, with every dollar staying in local hands. I realized that authentic travel isn't about finding places untouched by tourism, but finding places where the people who live there control the story being told. The Huna Tlingit aren't performing their culture for cruise passengers; they're sharing it on their own terms. Sometimes the lesson is simply learning to be a better guest.