Arctic Circle & Diomede Islands 2025
The Summer Solstice was on June 20, 2025 and the official title of this voyage was “Alaska Arctic Circle Solstice” cruise. So today, June 20, has to be the signature event for this journey, right? Last year HAL did this itinerary for the first time and they were unable to reach the Arctic Circle on this date (or at all) because of massive sea ice blockage. So we were concerned about that, especially after the presentation on June 18 by the Captain, the ice pilot and an ice expert who told us there was already a great deal of sea ice in the Bering Strait and we were very unlikely to make it through to the Arctic Circle. Darn!
But it turns out they were completely wrong about that. We should have known that weather predictions two days out are really more of a guess than a scientific conclusion. This was a beautiful clear day and, while we did see some floating ice, it was nowhere near the ship. The Captain did a great job of steering us where we needed to go while avoiding ice issues and the day (or at least the morning) turned out to be pretty special.
During the night after we left Nome, however, we still didn’t know whether we would be able to reach the Arctic Circle, the Captain’s discouraging presentation two days earlier having been the last we had heard. In the middle of the night Rick got out of bed to go to the bathroom, as often happens with people our age, and then looked through the windows to see whether there was any floating ice No visible ice, but the summer solstice is the longest day of the year especially in northern Alaska, the land of the midnight sun. So that is what this picture shows, though probably at an hour or two after midnight.
Looking at this picture as I write this it occurs to me for the first time that this is likely a view from the south of the Diomede Islands, about which more later as we sail back toward them from the north.
By the time we woke up for the day we were already near the Arctic Circle. From our veranda we could see Russia across about 40 miles of water. This is the Chukchi Peninsula, and Cape Dezhnev (on the right in the first picture) is the easternmost point in mainland Asia. Its highest peaks are about 2600 feet. The first record of a ship sailing by it was in the mid 17th century and Captain Cook visited in the 18th century. During the 19th century it was a fur trading hotbed.
By this time we were in the Bering Strait, a body of water about 50 miles wide at its narrowest and about 300 ft deep that divides the Bering Sea from the Arctic Ocean. This is a very shallow part of the ocean and is thought to have been dry land during the height of the glacial period when ocean levels fell as a tremendous amount of water was absorbed into the world wide glaciers. Scientists today think that humans probably first spread into the Americas across this land bridge between Asia and America. The islands we will see today were once mountain peaks in this land bridge, which is sometimes called Beringia today. Like the Bering Sea, the Bering Strait is named for Vitus Bering, a native of Denmark who explored this area under the Russian flag in the 1720’s and 30’s. Here’s what the Bering Strait looked like from the aft of the ship in the morning before the crowds arrived.
While it didn’t interfere with our trip we did see some fields of floating ice. On one ice floe was a walrus, which we didn’t see before it dove in the water but our friend Susie shared a picture with us. Some people saw whales and there were sea birds flying and, notably, fishing.
Later in the morning, but we think while we were still above the Arctic Circle, there was a “polar bear swim” in the aft pool. Two sizeable vats of ice cubes were emptied into the pool just to make sure it was cold, then interested passengers jumped into the pool in groups of about 15. When they emerged (usually pretty quickly) staff painted their noses blue. The master of ceremonies was dressed in a polar bear suit (really). It appeared that a good time was had by all.
As we sailed south from the Arctic Circle we could see the Diomede Islands far in the distance. These are two small rocky islands situated close together in the middle of the Bering Strait, about 16 miles from Alaska and some 28 miles from Russia. Big Diomede Island is Russian territory and Little Diomede Island is part of the United States. The islands are just 2.5 miles apart but the international date line runs between them. For this reason some people (including our captain) call Big Diomede “Tomorrow Island” and Little Diomede “Yesterday Island.” During the winter the sea between them freezes over and it would be possible to walk from one to the other, if that were permitted (it isn’t; this is an international border between Russia & the United States). A small group of a little over 100 Native people live on Little Diomede (their village is on the west side between the islands where we couldn’t see) and Big Diomede now houses (we understand) only a Russian weather station and some border guards. After World War II the Native people on Big Diomede were relocated (involuntarily) to the mainland and it became for a while a military outpost. Vitus Bering named the islands after the Orthodox Saint Diomedes on August 16, 1728, which is the Russian Church’s holiday dedicated to him.
When HAL first advertised this itinerary a couple of years ago it included a circumnavigation of Little Diomede. But the people living there objected because they believed a cruise ship would scare away the walrus population during the time of their annual walrus hunt, so HAL cancelled the circumnavigation. But we ended up sailing fairly close to Little Diomede anyway to avoid ice buildup off the Alaska coast. We don’t know whether in the end that had any effect on the walrus population or on the walrus hunt. You will notice in the pictures that the islands appear much further apart when viewed from afar, then as we pass them to the east (left of Little Diomede) they appear closer & finally seem to merge.
The first time we had heard of the Diomede Islands was when Little Diomede was the first stop on an excellent TV travelogue starring Michael Palin (of Monty Python fame) called “Full Circle.” He intended to circle the Pacific and end back on Little Diomede, but weather prevented returning there. We mentioned the ancient land bridge between Asia and North America above, and during that time the Diomedes were the tops of mountains.
South of the Diomedes we sailed past two more landmarks. Fairway Rock is a very small island with cliff sides rising abruptly more than 500 feet from the water. It was first documented by Captain Cook in 1778. It can be seen from the Alaska mainland 20 miles away and provides a nesting ground for many sea birds. Cape Prince of Wales is the westernmost point of the American mainland, at the tip of the Seward Peninsula. It was named by Captain Cook in 1778. There is a tiny town there called Wales (population 168 in 2020).
We sailed back into the Bering Sea after a morning that was even better than we had hoped, much less expected. And we had 3.5 sea days to look forward to before reaching the next port.
Nome, Alaska 2025
On the morning of June 19 we were anchored near the harbor of Nome, Alaska. This is a small town of only about 3,700 people, just a few blocks deep along the coast of the Seward Peninsula in northwest Alaska. No roads connect it to the main part of Alaska, so the only ways to get to or from here are by plane or ship (or dogsled).
We sailed here from Dutch Harbor across the Bering Sea, one of the richest fishing areas in the world. It can often be rough water but it was rather calm when we crossed, although we were enclosed by a lot of thick fog. During our sea day before reaching Nome there was a presentation by the Captain, the Ice Pilot and an ice expert about what to expect. We were told that there was a lot of sea ice in the Bering Strait that was floating our way and that the weather was expected to be foggy enough that our tendering into Nome would likely be delayed several hours. This was discouraging . . . but it turned out to be a beautiful day in Nome, mostly sunny and clear and neither windy nor very cold. So after breakfast we tendered into the port.
While the Inupiaq people had lived in this area for perhaps several thousand years, the town itself began in 1898 as a tent city because of a gold rush. The first gold strike was registered by three fortune hunters known as the “Three Lucky Swedes.” Actually, one of them was Norwegian and today it is thought that they were led to the site by two Inupiaq boys who knew what was there. But indigenous people were not permitted to register mining claims at that time and the three who shared the first strike apparently shared neither their takings nor their credit with them, so their role was not generally known for decades. Once word of the leaked out gold hunters poured into Nome, on steamships arriving the next spring from Seattle and overland along the rivers from the Klondike (one prospector reputedly rode on a bicycle over the frozen rivers). At its height it is said that an average of 1,000 people per day poured into the area in the summertime. But by the time most of them arrived the productive areas were already taken. It was rough on the Alaska frontier and there was a good bit of claim jumping and violence facilitated by a corrupt federal judge. But the city of Nome was incorporated in 1901 with a population said to be around 20,000, the largest city in Alaska.
This was, then, a frontier town and as we walked down Front Street, which parallels the seashore, it still had that feeling. It had surprisingly wide streets lined with telephone poles. Most of the buildings from its early days have been destroyed over the years by storms or fires, but some have been restored or replaced with buildings in the same style so the ambiance is maintained. That is not only a lot of work but is also very expensive because all the materials have to be imported by ship (no trees grow in this area). While the streets seemed very empty, at least in the morning, the people we met were quite friendly and seemed glad to have us there. Some strangers on the street would wave and say “Welcome to Nome.” We did feel welcome.
We walked along Front Street, passing a large carved wood welcome sign held up by pillars sculpted into a miner and an Inupiaq hunter. Across the street was the city hall, a two story wooden building that we understand was originally built by Wyatt Earp to house the saloon he operated from 1897 to 1901, leaving town with some $80,000, the equivalent of about $3 million today. In front of the building was a bust of Roald Amundsen commemorating the first flight over the north pole, led by Amundsen in a dirigible named “Norge” that flew from Spitsbergen to Alaska in 1926, executing an emergency landing about 75 miles short of its destination of Nome.
There were two other notable outdoor sculptures on this street. One was of an indigenous person carrying a rifle, commemorating the Alaska Territorial Guard. This was a group of several thousand volunteers, of Native and European descent, who patrolled the shores in this area during and after World War II. The other is of a large polar bear standing on a bay window in front of the Sitnasuak Native Corporation building.
We turned left and walked up Steadman Street, away from the sea, to find the Carrie M. McLain Museum in the Foster building. It was only about 3 short blocks and well worth it, not only for this small but interesting museum but also because this building houses the Kegoayah Kozga Library. We got there before the library opened so we toured the museum first, enjoying its exhibits featuring Alaska Native art as well as the long and interesting history of Nome. Located on Front Street when it opened in 1967 the museum was moved to the larger current space when the Richard Foster building was erected by the city.
The library across the hall was spacious and welcoming. In addition to all the books it had a variety of local artwork on the walls. The librarian was friendly and showed us around.
We walked back to Front street in the direction of the port because we had scheduled an excursion for the afternoon that would meet there. Cutouts of dogs (which are obviously important in a dogsledding area) were mounted on many of the light and telephone poles, each one with a uniquely decorated painting apparently by local folks. This reminded us of about 20 years ago when the streets of Washington DC had similarly painted sculptures of elephants and donkeys. We liked the one in the last picture below the best.
Nome’s original name was Anvil City and we visited Anvil City Square. This large open space contains what Nome claims is the largest gold pan in the world (disputed, we understand, by a town in Canada), and statues of the “Three Lucky Swedes” and the two indigenous boys thought to have shown them where the gold was.
Also in this square was the finish line for the Iditerod dogsled race from Anchorage to Nome that has been held annually since the 1970’s. This finish line is moved to Front Street each year for the occasion. This race was inspired by a 1925 rescue mission to bring diphtheria antitoxin to stop an outbreak in Nome during the winter, when ships cannot reach its ice bound harbor. The antitoxin was brought as far as possible by train, but the remaining transport over almost 700 miles of hazardous snow covered terrain could only be done by dogsled. It was an exciting and suspenseful exploit that gripped the nation and it is worth seeking out a book to read the story. To make a long story short, the toxin arrived safely and stopped the outbreak, although by that time more than two dozen people had died (and perhaps many more that were unreported). A statue of Balto, the lead dog on the final leg of the sled relay, was erected in Central Park in New York City.
At the far end of the square was Old St Joe’s Church. Built in 1901 it was the first Catholic church in Nome and even today appears to be the tallest building in town. Originally located on Steadman street, the church had an 88 foot steeple with an 8 foot cross at the top that was lighted at night so that it could be seen for miles. This was an important local navigational beacon, particularly during the long dark winters. The steeple was dismantled in 1944 for safety reasons and the building became a warehouse. In 1995 it was donated to the city, moved to Anvil Square and restored to its original design. It is now used as a community meeting hall.
The Nome Nugget is the oldest newspaper in Alaska, first published near the end of 1899. It distributes some 2600 newspapers every Thursday throughout northwest Alaska and it is also printed in Anchorage for distribution in airports and libraries throughout the state. We understand that in the early days the newspaper was written in Nome, then taken elsewhere (Juneau?) for printing, then returned for distribution. We saw the newspaper’s offices on Front Street and in the Anchorage State Library we found on display the front page of the newspaper’s January 31, 1925 edition, reporting on the progress of the dogsled relay two days before the lifesaving serum arrived.
We continued to the port. Among other things we passed a building with two old dogsleds on top and saw a large cemetery on a hill. We mentioned that prices are high in Nome because everything has to be imported; case in point is gasoline, with regular unleaded selling for $6.29 per gallon when we had paid between 3 and 4 dollars while driving to Portland. When we reached the dock Mary joined a number of folks sitting under a shade erected by HAL waiting for the excursion to begin.
The afternoon excursion took us by bus through the tundra outside Nome to visit an old gold dredge. The road stopped well short of the gold dredge so we had to walk a mile or two over very rocky and uneven land to reach it (and then, of course, we had to walk back). The walk was a good bit longer than advertised and was more challenging than expected. There are no trees in the tundra but we saw many tiny flowers growing there. We did cross over a small but pretty creek with reeds growing in it on the way.
Gold Dredge # 5 was one of a number of such contraptions once utilized in this area to dig for gold on an industrial scale. We understand that this one operated from about 1941 into the 1990’s. It has a large hull with several rooms built on top with a long arm sticking out to one side that has a number of very large buckets that are drawn by a moving chain along the floor of the pond or lake like a conveyor belt to scrape up the bottom. As each bucket reaches the boat its contents are dumped and it continues on, repeating this over and over. The lake floor sludge is then processed on board to isolate and extract any gold that is there.
This facility is now closed to visitors, so we could only look at it from the edge of the large pond in which it sits then head back to the bus. You can see the row of large buckets still attached to the dredge, and in the town a number of them are being used as planters. There was also a row of them in front of the museum in the Foster building.
We were pretty tired after that unexpectedly difficult walk and were glad to take the tender back to the ship. We sailed away before dinner time heading north, where we hoped the ice would not prevent us from sailing above the Arctic Circle as it had during last year’s cruise. All that is left to show is towel animals.
Dutch Harbor (Unalaska), Alaska 2025
As we pulled into Dutch Harbor early on the morning of June 17 the skies were heavily overcast and the clouds were at the top, and sometimes lower, on the mountains. Located in an isolated spot in the Aleutian archipelago, this place is notorious for its unpleasant and changeable weather, often cold and windy, which often forces cruise ships to pass by this port. So as we docked in the harbor we were hoping for a change for the better, but not counting on it.
Located 2 or 3 miles from the nearest town, called Unalaska, Dutch Harbor is the largest port in the Aleutian archipelago. In fact, with a population just over 4,000 Unalaska has about 80% of the population of the entire Aleutians. We docked in a harbor protected by a long natural spit at the foot of Mt. Ballyhoo, at 1650 feet the highest mountain on Amaknak Island. The mountain was named by Jack London in 1897 after his lead sled dog Ballyhoo when he stopped here on his way to the Klondike gold fields. Much of London’s novel The Seawolf is set in this area.
The Aleut people lived here for a long time before the Russians showed up in the late 18th century to develop the fur trade, especially in sea otters. As the only deep water port in the Aleutians, Dutch Harbor developed a good deal of sea traffic and the Russians established a settlement here in the early 19th century. The area was conveyed to the Americans along with the rest of Alaska in 1867 and it became an important fishing center. Today it is one of the most productive fishing harbors in the United States; the reality TV show Deadliest Catch has been filmed in this area for the last 20 years.
HAL had no excursions available here and, as far as we know, there was no shuttle bus into town. We were able to book a tour conducted by the director of the Museum of the Aleutians. So in the late morning, after breakfast, we went out on the dock to await the tour van. This is an industrial dock with no cruise terminal so we waited in the parking lot. It was not really cold and very little wind, but chilly enough to wear a light jacket.
The tour took us quickly through the town of Unalaska and on to Summer Bay, which was mostly mountains and fields. There are very few if any trees in this area but spring flowers were blooming even though it was already the middle of June, apparently because winter weather lasts late in this area. Unalaska is reputed to have a particularly large community of bald eagles who often feed on the remains left by the fishermen, but we only saw a few and mostly they were flying, preventing decent pictures.
The year before the United States entered World War II the government began building up a military presence here. The Aleutians are close enough to Japan that it could have been used as a convenient base to attack the mainland US. So bunkers, quonset huts, artillery emplacements and a landing strip started appearing here in anticipation of a possible Japanese invasion. The Japanese did not actually invade Dutch Harbor but they did conduct bombing raids here on June 3-4, 1942, just six months after Pearl Harbor. They also occupied two of the more remote islands in the archipelago, Attu and Kislak, for a couple of months before being driven out by the terrible weather and American attacks. We did not climb Mt Ballyhoo to visit the main fort and guns installed to protect the area, but we did see some of these old fortifications in Summer Bay and also on the side of Mt Ballyhoo near where we were docked.
In passing we saw a fishing boat dock and also the Memorial Park, which includes several memorials to groups who lived and/or died here, including a brass propeller from a ship destroyed by the Japanese in 1942 that was installed here 50 years later and an old graveyard populated with Russian Orthodox crosses. On the way back toward town we passed a striking landmark called Little Priest Rock. It is an 80 foot tall rock that we understand some thought was shaped like the hat of a Russian Orthodox priest. It is on a small sandy beach where the neighboring mountain meets the water, although the tide must have been in when we were there because we couldn’t see much beach. It was big enough to see from the ship docked on the other side of the bay.
Perhaps the most distinctive building in town is the Russian Orthodox Cathedral, officially named the Church of the Holy Ascension. A chapel was built on this spot in 1808 and the church (with only one tower) replaced it in 1825. Due to wear and tear, probably due to the usually bad weather here, it was replaced in 1858 using the foundations and many of the timbers from the earlier church, and it finally gained its current form in the 1890’s, again incorporating pieces of the earlier churches. It very much resembles the Orthodox church we visited in Sitka and is reputedly filled with religious treasures, although we didn’t have time go go inside. Next to the church is a small graveyard dating to 1825 filled with white crosses in Orthodox style (with an extra cross bar). Nearby is the dark blue Bishop’s House, built in San Francisco in 1882 before being transported to Unalaska. The bishop who commissioned it died before having a chance to live there and is buried in the graveyard.
We made two more stops. The Unalaska Public Library was not on our itinerary, but there were at least three librarians in our van who all expressed interest in seeing it. So our guide compromised, taking us to see the library but not to leave the van for a visit. It looks like a very nice one. Then we stopped at the Museum Of The Aleutians, where our guide was the director. It was an interesting small museum with good information and exhibits, especially about the Aleut people that originally lived here. But importantly it also had a public restroom, which made the rest of the trip much more pleasant than it might have been! Outside the museum there was a large field with numerous flowers and a view across the bay.
Across the water from the church we visited the underground hospital. Built during the war, we understand it had (or may still have) about 200 beds. It was not open to visitors, apparently for safety reasons. From the shore we had a nice view of the church and the bishop’s house across the water. Our last stop before returning to the ship (there was another excursion group waiting for our return) was at a red brick Tudor style building built in 1932 to house workers at the nearby Naval Radio Station. It originally had 6 apartments, but during World War II it was remodeled into housing for chief petty officers. It is reputed to be the only brick building in the Aleutians, although today it appears to be pretty dilapidated (obviously not a place to enter for a visit). There was a bald eagle sitting on the left gable.
During the remaining time before our departure we took some pictures from the ship. To the aft was a view of the winding road up Mt Ballyhoo to the World War II ruins and the way we would sail away from Dutch Harbor. Looking forward was a view of Unalaska. More fun, though, was the view from our veranda, which was on the side of the ship facing the water. A ship was out there, probably some kind of work boat, with a thick cable running from its aft to a large round float. We don’t know why it was there but we do know that there were several seals and/or sea lions on it, sometimes looking relaxed and sometimes looking like they were fighting for position on the float. Whatever they were about, they were very LOUD. We heard them long before we saw them and their serenade went on for most of the afternoon. Very entertaining.
We sailed away around 6:00 and headed north. We passed some more nice scenery on the way out (of course). After dinner we headed for bed, where another towel animal awaited us.
College Fjord, Alaska 2025
In 1899 railroad tycoon Edward Harriman, on doctor’s orders to get away from business pressures, put together an epic sea voyage to Alaska. He bought a ship and set out to hunt bears, but he also filled it with eminent writers, artists and scientists of his day to explore this remote land. The voyage was much celebrated, garnering headlines throughout the world. Among their other adventures and accomplishments, on June 25th they sailed up the 20 mile long waterway they christened College Fjord. We spent the morning of June 14 there.
College Fjord contains five tidewater glaciers (ie. terminating in the sea water), five valley glaciers, and a number of smaller ones back from the water. We sailed past the tidewater glaciers and didn’t see the others. Even if they would otherwise have been viewable, there was a heavy cloud cover that came down to the tops of the tidewater glaciers so we couldn’t see anything above or beyond them.
You may have noticed that these glaciers are all named after eastern colleges and universities. They were named by a couple of professors on board who taught at Harvard and Amherst and they named most of the glaciers in the College Fjord area after eastern colleges, reportedly taking some pleasure in pointedly leaving Princeton out. We are not positive we have all the names right, but we think we saw Wellesley, Vassar, Bryn Mawr, and Smith Glaciers on the side as we sailed up the fjord.
At the end of the fjord was Harvard Glacier, the largest of the bunch. Its face sitting over the water is about 1.5 miles wide and the ice is some 300 feet thick. We were told that Downer Glacier (named for a college in Wisconsin) flows in on the right end of the Harvard Glacier, but its ice is black (presumably from dirt) so its hard to make out in the picture (and in person too). Apparently the folks on the Harriman expedition missed it too, since it wasn’t named until 1910.
Glaciers are often blue, as in the pictures above, because as the snow compacts into very dense ice it squeezes out air bubbles, with the result that the ice reflects blue wavelengths and absorbs other colored light. Often the most interesting views of glacier ice are in close ups, showing clearly the varied patterns the ice displays. It is exciting when a glacier “calves,” meaning that part of the ice breaks off and falls in the water as it is pushed toward the sea. But this is very hard to capture in a photograph because the loud noise of the ice breaking off does not seem directional and the calving is over very quickly, so by the time you are able to point you camera toward it the calving is over and all that is left is the splash. Just what happened in the last picture below.
After a long time with the ship turning in front of Harvard Glacier so everyone could see it we sailed down the fjord, back the way we came. Of course, the ship was facing the opposite way from the earlier passage so our veranda looked out on the other side of the fjord. There was quite a bit of ice in the water in this area that had dropped off the glacier and floated away, but none big enough to be called an iceberg. It seems odd that the floating ice tends to stay in one area, often near the shore, rather than floating out across the whole fjord.
So that was it for our morning at college fjord, and we settled down for two & a half sea days until our next port. But don’t worry, there will be plenty more glaciers in upcoming episodes. This is Alaska, after all.
BADER JOURNAL 
