Finally, After 9 Days We Found Alaska
- Paul Hallman
- May 6
- 7 min read
After nine straight days at sea from Japan, the words “land day” started to feel like a myth sailors made up to keep morale alive. Then, finally, Alaska showed up—cold, dramatic, and looking like it had been waiting to judge our wardrobe choices.
After leaving Japan and dodging a Tsnunami, we travelled some 6,000 Km's from Hokodate across a nasty sea where the storms were frequent, the waters rough at times and lots of rain and cold weather. We didn't use our balcony at all and we were advised that at times the Captain re-routed our ship to hide behind large islands from strong winds. Now this may sound rather ugly, but it was not really that bad, with the exception of being on the water for 9 days. We kept entertained by playing some travel games like Rummikub and Racko and Five Crowns. For many on board, time passed but not fast enough. Finally, on the last leg of the trip we had a Pub Crawl as there are 8 bars on our ship. Shooters at every bar meant by mid afternoon each participant had at least 8 drinks and in some cases even more.
I had Ukelele every day and practiced for a concert that we put on in the Universe Theatre and it was well received. Some 32 players with added singers from the choir to assist our group and make it a fun presentation. After 10 weeks of learning how to play the instrument, I managed to get through every song and now can say that I think I can play it a bit. I need to keep it up when I get home but I can now play over 100 songs.
Yes, we finally landed in Whittier Alaska where we were told it would be cold and possibly 3 feet of snow and they also said there would be rain for our arrival, but there was no snow on the ground, and 16C (61F) with sun. What a perfect day.
The ship made a stop here to get replenished with fuel, food and to empty the waste systems. They also dropped off some passengers destined for Anchorage and took on both new crew and customers.
If you’ve never arrived somewhere by ship after that many ocean days, here’s the best way to describe it: you step onto land and your legs still think they’re negotiating with waves. But we didn’t care. We were in town for the day, and we were ready to walk it off—one sign, one storefront, and one moment at a time.
We decided not to do any excursions but to spend the day checking out the town and yes, it does have an interesting history.
First impressions: tiny town, big personality
Whittier is small—like, blink-and-you’ve-walked-past-it small—but it’s packed with character. We wandered around town, fascinated by the little stores, the harbor vibe, and the feeling that everything here has a story. Even the newer hotel stood out, like Whittier politely reminding visitors: “Yes, we’re remote. No, we’re not stuck in 1952.”
And the signs—oh, the signs. They were everywhere. Warning signs, direction signs, “don’t do that” signs, “seriously don’t do that” signs. I took so many photos I’m pretty sure my camera now thinks it’s a traffic engineer.
Whittier’s origin story: built for war, shaped by the sea
Whittier didn’t just happen the way some towns do. It was heavily shaped by the U.S. Army, especially during World War II and the Cold War, when Alaska’s strategic importance was no joke. Whittier’s location—tucked into Prince William Sound—made it useful as a port and supply point, and the military presence influenced how the town was built and organized.
You can still feel that “purpose-built” energy in Whittier. It’s not a place that grew slowly around a main street and a church bake sale. It’s a place that was designed to function in harsh conditions, with logistics and survival in mind.
The US closed the military base in 1966 and today it stands in total disrepair with damage from the earthquake, water as well as asbestos. There is no plan to dismantle it but it is an eyesore. At one time there were up to 1250 housed in this facility.
I actually met a resident that was living across the street from the military base in a Cast Trailer and he had built a deck on the rear with an amazing view of the inlet and bay. He told me he rents the place for $50 per month. Not a classy place but he works in road maintenance and I suspect he makes a good income with minimal overhead.
The building where (almost) everyone lives
Then there’s the famous part: the condominium building where a large portion of the town lives. Whittier is known for having much of its population concentrated in one main residential building—one of those facts that sounds made up until you’re standing there thinking, “So… this is basically the town’s living room?”
This is an old photo of the condo building when it was constructed
And it’s not just apartments. The building has (or has had) essential services connected to daily life, which makes sense in a place where weather can go from “pretty” to “nope” in a hurry.
There is a tunnel from the pier side under the railroad track so residents can access the area without going entirely outdoors. We walked that route but it was partially snow covered at both entrances.
One of the most memorable details: there’s a covered connection/tunnel-style access to the school, so kids (and parents) don’t have to battle the elements every single day. In Whittier, convenience isn’t laziness—it’s survival with better planning.
The earthquake that changed everything
Whittier also carries the weight of the 1964 Great Alaska Earthquake, one of the most powerful earthquakes ever recorded. The quake and resulting damage hit coastal communities hard, and Whittier was among the places that suffered major destruction. When you walk around a town like this, it’s impossible not to think about how quickly the landscape—and people’s lives—can change. There were 8 deaths and over 200 injured in the earthquake.
Some of these photos show the train track and train station as well as a tire that was pierced with wood during the earthquake.
During our walk around the town I found that there are others that have problems with their propellors. I am not the only one. We also found a few interesting boats that were in need of some minor repair.
The tunnel: one lane, one schedule, a whole lot of “wait, what?”
Now let’s talk about the thing that makes Whittier feel like a movie set: the tunnel.
Whittier is connected to the outside world by a tunnel that’s famous for being… unusual. It’s a major access point between Whittier and the rest of Alaska, and it’s a big part of why the town feels both reachable and isolated at the same time.
The tunnel is 2 1/2 miles long and is the longest tunnel in North America. It is a ONE WAY tunnel with a railroad track in the middle and impossible to pass. At times you have to wait for over 30 minutes before you can enter to pass through.
Historically, the tunnel was built to serve transportation needs in this rugged area, and today it still plays a huge role—moving people and supplies in and out, and making Whittier accessible without needing a boat or a plane. It’s not just a convenience; it’s a lifeline.
And from the visitor perspective? It’s one of those “only in Alaska” experiences—because of course the road into town involves a tunnel with its own rules and rhythm.
The museum: small place, big stories
Whittier also has a museum, and it’s the kind of stop that helps everything click. You can walk the streets and admire the scenery, but the museum gives you the “why”: the military history, the town’s development, and the human stories behind this remote port community.
It’s a reminder that Whittier isn’t just a cruise stop—it’s a real place with real people who live and work here year-round.
Who lives here—and what do they do?
Whittier’s population is small, and daily life revolves around what makes sense in a coastal Alaska town: port and marine activity, tourism, services, and local jobs that keep the community running. In a place this compact, everyone’s role feels important—because it is. The best I could find was there are 200 to 250 residents in the city and it is located about 90
Prince William Sound: glaciers, wildlife, and “is this real?”
And then there’s the setting: Prince William Sound is right there, with its glaciers, wildlife, and jaw-dropping scenery. Whittier feels like a front door to the kind of Alaska people daydream about—icy blue views, rugged mountains, and the sense that nature is both beautiful and fully capable of ignoring your plans.
It’s the kind of place where you can be laughing at a sign one minute and standing quietly the next, staring at the water like you’ve just remembered you’re a tiny creature on a very large planet.
Leaving Whittier (and taking the signs with us)
By the time we headed back toward the ship, we’d done what we came to do: walked the town, soaked up the atmosphere, learned the history, and collected enough sign photos to last a lifetime.
Whittier is funny like that—small, strange, and unforgettable. A town shaped by the military, tested by an earthquake, connected by a tunnel, and surrounded by some of the most spectacular scenery on Earth. We are off now to explore the Hubbard Glacier and cruise through other glacier fields before stopping in several ports on our way south.
And yes: SIGNS SIGNS EVERY WHERE SIGNS… breaking up the scenery and changing my mind—because Whittier definitely did. We enjoyed our day in Alaska.
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