Bald eagles are easy to spot sitting in trees or soaring in the thermals in Southeast Alaska.

Halibut filled my dinner plate one night in Alaska, while the bear settled for sedge grass.  Big brown coastal bear.

How can I be so sure? He was easy to spot outside my window on a small ship anchored in a quiet cove in Alaska’s Inside Passage. Didn’t even need binoculars.

Not close enough to suit Capt. Jeff Behrens, who lowered the skiff from the top of the 32-passenger Island Spirit saying, “Dinner will keep. Let’s get closer.”

Sixteen of us abandoned dinner and got within 30 feet of the bear. We were barely breathing in excitement, but he was bored with us.  Looked up now and then, lumbered along eating more grass.

His cousin ambled out of the forest as we watched, eating berries at the edge.  Salmon berries, ripe in yellow and red hues, huckleberries and blueberries loaded on bushes all through the Tongass National Forest during my July adventure.

Eight nights on the Fantasy Cruise Island Spirit sailing from Juneau to Sitka put me face-to-face with many more bears, hundreds of bald eagles, breeching and sounding humpback whales, sea otters lounging on rocky islands, harbor seals and plenty of porpoise.

I’ve done the Inside Passage big cruise ship in Alaska, and enjoyed it, but this small ship took me much further inside Alaska.

Wilderness.  Vastness.  Miniature communities. Enormous glaciers.  Slowing, circling, even stopping if one of us spotted a spout and hoped to see more of the whale.

Dozens of times that worked, seeing the fluke as the whale dived deep.  We got pretty good at counting the flumes of water from a spout and knowing after five the whale was likely to sound off, or to sound, which is diving deep, showing that distinctive tail end.

Learned skills like that and much more from Richard Tanner, a naturalist living with us and teaching about the glaciers, wildlife and waters of Southeast Alaska.

Short lectures most days and always available with funny facts and answers to our questions.  Skilled wildlife spotter, whether from the bridge with the captain or hanging out on the bow or back and top decks with passengers.

Not many people see the neighborhood bears we did the night we paused our halibut dinner. We were anchored in Ford’s Terror, accessible only at the highest slack tide.  Class 5 rapids water otherwise make the narrow passage treacherous.

Big ships can send a small boat in if they are nearby at the precisely right time, but they turn around fast and get back out.

Island Spirit anchored for 24 hours — plenty of pleasure watching wildlife, paddling in the seven kayaks (some are doubles) and exploring in the 16-passenger skiff.

Ford’s Terror is filled with waterfalls, more than I could count sailing in, and since it rained overnight, even more.  A mountain wall of waterfalls with many widths.

Drank deeply when Capt. Behrens pulled up so close we could hold a pitcher under one of them.

That’s touching Alaska.    

Just paddle your kayak up close to the shore, wary if the bear is near the edge, and sing like you’re all alone.  I was because the other kayakers headed a different direction.

Capt. Behrens suggests 30 feet at least for bear distance just in case one took a notion to swim your way.

Singing in the Alaska wilderness, safe but alone in the moment, is soul satisfying, especially for me since I can’t even carry a tune in church.

Up close and personal experiences like that can be found all the way between Juneau and Sitka.  You could make the journey in five or six hours if that was your goal; Capt. Behrens tells time and makes plans in a more relaxed style.

Ish is the ending on his clock: noon-ish, six-ish, whatever needed to watch the whales until they tired of diving and slapping their fins and flukes on the water’s surface or to explore a pretty cove or lower the kayaks in a hurry because sea otters were abundant.

Mealtimes fluctuated a bit too if whales and porpoise were alongside us, but they were always abundant, beautifully presented, and each meal different from the other.  Soups, breads, pastries and fish are Island Spirit specialties and generous appetizers appear with the daily open-bar cocktail hour (usually 90 minutes-ish).

“This route, or maybe that way” is the how Captain points to places on the big Inside Passage map in the dining room.

Clearly he knows the waters he’s been navigating for 21 years and just as clearly he’s matching options with passenger interests.  

This Captain is flexible, skilled, funny and delighted with our delight.  Some hung out on the closed-in bridge with him, but I loved the cold air on the bow. He’d pop out the door up above to be sure we bow-watchers were looking the right way to see sea lions and whales.

Dress for temps no higher than 50s if you want to do this adventure on the decks.  Windows are abundant so staying inside is an option.

Have an extra layer for glacier day. I didn’t want to budge an inch approaching the 200-foot-tall Dawes Glacier, or the long stretch of time we lingered, just staring.

Exciting when big chunks fall off, called calving, but every bit as grand just breathing in the enormous splendor.    

Icebergs float by constantly and best you can tell, they’re enormous too.  Determining size is impossible in Alaska.  Perspective is all jumbled up by the vast distances.  Close is really far.

Several afternoons I saw Alaska’s enormous views from tiny towns where I met local people. Definitely a small boat opportunity and quite different from”big-city” Juneau (population 32,000) where we started the voyage and Sitka (census 9,000) where we ended.

Floatplanes or boats are the only way to approach these villages.  Island Spirit can anchor in the waters lapping little Alaska communities and her passengers are few enough not to overwhelm them.

Tenakee Springs has 49 year-round residents, exploding to 90 when the summer-home folks arrive. This is not a Native population but people who seem to want some separation.  That’s a guess.

Their gravel road supports four wheelers, nothing larger, and every tiny front yard makes a great show of the not-quite three-month growing season.

Lettuces, garlic, onions and tons of flowers fill the soil and pots of many shapes and sizes. We supported the local farmer’s market and took salad back to the boat.

“Had a graduator this month,” a woman told me as I admired the school, “and he’s going to Fairbanks to college.”

 Takes 10 students for the state to keep a school open and since a family with five children is moving away, two adults who never graduated from high school have enrolled. Need a few more.

Don’t get the idea they’re struggling in Tenakee Springs. This life is a choice and I was amazed to find myself within it for a few hours.  

A visit another afternoon to little Baranof, Alaska, gave me access to naked commercial fishermen in the warm springs, or so I was told. I happen to love soaking in hot healing waters as I travel and I was prepared with my hiking boots and a bathing suit under layers of fleece.

Rain gear too since it often rains in the Tongass National Forest, a temperate rainforest with 17 million acres in Southeast Alaska.

Combination boardwalk and steep root-filled mud path I took after passing a few dozen fishing boats, poised with long lines and enormous seines to go after salmon and halibut two days later when regulations preventing over-fishing allowed.

Saw the steam before I found the waters and wondered if I should turn my eyes. Turned out to be a really, really hot natural pool, a few steps away a very cold one, and near the edge by the waterfall some temperate water.

A dozen fishermen, two girlfriends and bathing suits on everyone so I had a chance to ask the fishermen what would be a good catch.

 “20,000 pounds of salmon will make me happy,” one man told me.  I was happy with one big salmon serving on my dinner plate on board ship.  Alaska halibut too on board, and fish chowder.  

Kake has a population of 500 with 75 percent native Tlingit people.  Seemed a privilege to me to walk the one main street with Christopher Kadake; he spied me admiring the large eagle and whale carving in front of a modest blue house, just beyond a huge flowering bush.

“Here everyone is family,” he said, “and you have all your food.  Fish.  Berries. Even the roses. You can boil them for tea.”

He was proud too that he and his dad, who’s 75, attended the same school here.

Most everyone in Kake knows how to carve totem poles and theirs is 132 feet tall, reportedly the world’s tallest. Seemed like the whole town eased out to meet the strangers emerging from that boat in their harbor. Friendly, every one.

And that’s precisely what this small boat experience is: friendly and up-close with wildlife, glorious views all the time, and local folks on special occasions.