Ketchikan: My Salmon & Totem Capital

We sailed in through thick morning mist and suddenly houses on stilts appeared like something from a fairy tale. The smell hit first — low tide, smoked salmon, and wet cedar. Ketchikan gets 162 inches of rain a year and wears it proudly; everything is green, mossy, dripping.

We started at Totem Bight State Historical Park. The totems are massive — some 50 ft tall, carved from single cedar logs, colors faded to that perfect weathered red-black-teal that only decades of rain can paint. The clan house smelled of cedar smoke and salt; the ranger sang a Tlingit song inside and the acoustics raised every hair on my arms. Then we walked Saxman Native Village — the carving shed was active, cedar chips flying, master carvers working on new poles while ravens watched from the rafters.

The absolute highlight was the Misty Fjords floatplane. The takeoff from the harbor was exhilarating, then we flew low over endless forest and waterfalls before landing on a mountain lake so remote the silence rang in my ears. The pilot cut the engine and we just drifted between 3,000-ft granite walls while a lone harbor seal watched us. Saw mountain goats like white specks on cliffs and a black bear fishing far below.

Back in town we wandered Creek Street at high tide (the water literally laps under the boardwalks), visited Dolly's House (yes, it was exactly what you think), and had the best king salmon of the trip at Alaska Fish House — grilled simply with lemon and eaten on the dock while sea lions barked for scraps underneath us.

The pros: most colorful, character-filled town in Alaska with world-class totems.

The cons: it rains constantly (but that's the charm), and it gets very crowded when multiple ships are in port.

Practical tips: Book flightseeing early — weather cancellations happen. Bring quick-dry everything.