The Way To Alaska


Crossing Elliott Bay we made our plans. One of us would keep watch on the captain, another on the cook, another at the gangway, and the fourth would give him the word when the coast was clear. Sandy would be the first man off. So we ate our last meal together, triumphant over the Immigration Service. Gibbs said that in the new society men would not be enclosed by artificial barriers.

Now in 1974, with jets flying far above the tiderips and the little tidewashed towns, the Top o’ the World is just next door. But we had been to remote places, a long time on the way. In the Connecticut Street basin the Coutli shortened up the towline and eased us to the dock. We cast off the hawser, and they gave us a long blast of the whistle. It echoed from Alki Point, my log says, telling the world that we were back from a far country.