A well known photo magazine recently came out with a spread featuring the great state of Alaska, bringing back memories of my own visit there last September. Having seen amazing photos of eagles in flight, grizzlies snatching fish from streams, and spectacular landscapes, I had dreamed of such a trip for years. The problem was, and I'm sure a few of you share this dilemma, money, or lack thereof. The problem was compounded when my wife informed me that there was no way I was going to Alaska without her. At this point I refer you to rule #8 in my previous article "Ten things I learned with my first camera which states, "Taking your spouse on a photo trip will not strengthen your marriage." However, it quickly became obvious that if the marriage were to continue, I would have a traveling companion for this particular journey.

In order to help finance this adventure, I made several suggestions to my bride on how we could achieve our goal much sooner if she would only take a part time job down at the local Wal-Mart, or if she wanted fresh air and exercise, mow a few lawns around the neighborhood. These ideas were, as you may have guessed, were received with little or no enthusiasm.

At last the day arrived when we were able to get online and search for the best possible way to see Alaska within our budget. I expressed my desire to photograph the eagles in Homer or the grizzlies at Brooks Falls.

"What am I supposed to do, stand around for hours in freezing weather while you're waiting for some animal to do something?" she asked. "Are there any malls on the Homer spit?" "Does that Brooks place have any decent souvenir shops?"

With my keen insight, I sensed a possible conflict of interest in the itinerary. After a few hours of calm and reasonable discussion, (yeah, right) we decided to bite the bullet and splurge on a land/sea cruise with Princess Cruises. Photography, in this case, would have to take a back seat to comfort and indulgence. I must confess that I had capitulated to the point where my only camera gear would be her digital Sony and my video camera. (In truth, the thought of lugging my 600mm lens which weighs as much as a moose, had been heavy on my mind anyway.)

Since the budget was already shot to hell, we opted for an outside room on the ship in order to better view the beautiful scenery as we traveled the Inside Passage. Princess confirmed our reservation and assigned us a cabin on, judging from the photos, a beautiful ship These days, the cruise liners provide web sites where one can get a feel for what amenities and activities are available on a particular ship so I naturally get on the computer and check it out. I locate our room and find it's on the inside of the vessel, no windows.

"Miss, that room you assigned us is on the inside."

"Sir, my records show that it is an outside stateroom with an unobstructed view."

"Well now I may be an ol' country boy from Oklahoma but I believe I can tell from the picture whether a room is on the inside or the outside of a boat."

"Sir, what ship's diagram are you looking at?"

"Well, it plainly says Star Princess right there at the top."

"Sir, you are booked on the Sun Princess."

I gave her my very best Emily Latella impersonation.

"Never mind."

The flight to Anchorage was uneventful, and it was there that we boarded a sightseeing train for the trip to Denali National Wildlife Refuge. It was one of those with the clear domes on top where you can enjoy the vastness of the Alaskan landscape as you travel along. And yes, you could see the mountains off in the distance but mostly you looked at trees whizzing by, hour after hour, lots and lots of trees. So many trees in fact, that during the six hour trip I became convinced that Alaska was nothing but trees. Fortunately the train had a bar on board which opened at 9 a.m. When I remarked to the bartender that some might think it a wee bit early to imbibe, he replied that you can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning. I was beginning to like Alaska.

At last we arrived at one of the destinations of my dreams, Denali, The Last Wilderness, The Serengeti of North America, a photographer's paradise, all of which I would witness through the window of a school bus! It was 18 degrees F., the windows were frozen shut, and when the throng of tourists boarded, they all fogged up. The driver/guide assured us the windows would defog and unfreeze before we got to the park where we would likely see wildlife. Having little confidence in this, I checked to see if the bus had a bar. No such luck.

As it tuned out, the guide was correct, and before we had gotten very far into the park, we spotted our first grizzly. Fortunately, it was on my side of the bus and I was able to lower the window and use the camcorder to get some pretty decent footage. Unfortunately, all the other tourists clamored to my side as well, practically mashing my nose into the glass as they leaned over me for better looks. All in all, it was an interesting bus ride; we saw 8 bear including some cubs, a couple moose, a lynx (a dot in the distance), Dall sheep, (several dots in the distance) and a covey of ptarmigan. It wasn't quite the same as photographing eagles in Homer or grizzlies at Brooks Falls, but it would have to do.

Then it was back on the train to Fairbanks (the bar was still open) where we boarded a paddle wheel river boat for another sightseeing trip (it had a bar as well). With the exception of a beaver, we saw no wildlife, but there was a series of staged events along the way including a take off and landing by a bush plane, a visit to a mock Eskimo village where a woman cleaned a nine pound salmon in about 30 seconds, and we were met on the river bank by Susan Butcher, past winner of the Iditarod dog sled race. Susan gave a short talk about sled dogs and proceeded to hitch up a team to a motorless ATV and took off for a half mile run. Thankfully, I was able to watch the whole thing from the warm bar on the boat's closed circuit TV.

The real problems started when we arrived back in Anchorage to board the Star... I mean Sun Princess. Let us now flash back to the night before departing Oklahoma for this grand voyage. The trip had been planned for months but my wife is still packing. Now if you've ever watched a woman pack for a trip where the destination will have a wide range of temperatures, where she will need a variety of clothes from casual to formal, and must keep bags within the limits allowed by the airline, you will know my state of apprehension when I cautiously asked if she had remembered to pack her birth certificate. "No, it's still in the safe deposit box at the bank. I made a copy."

"Uh, Honey, I'm not sure they'll accept that on the ship as proof of citizenship."

"Oh, quit being such a worry wart. I don't think there will be any problem."

And here's where she threw in her most convincing argument, "Besides, I'm with you!"

I knew we were in trouble when the check-in agent at the ship took one glance at the copy and motioned for a man in a uniform to come over and take a look. He promptly gets on the phone and is whispering in hushed tones to someone in a language I didn't understand.

"Please have a seat over in the isolation area," he says in his most polite but authoritative voice. "Someone will be here shortly to talk to you."

So we waited in the "isolation" area. And waited. And waited. By now all the other passengers are safely on board, probably at the bar. Finally a tall man, also in a uniform, arrives. His name tag reads "Ivan". Ivan is from the Purser's office. Ivan is a very serious looking man.

"I am sorry to inform you," he says in a strong German accent, "that your identification, Madame, is insufficient. If you can assure me that if you indeed have a proper birth certificate, you may have it FedEx'd to one of our ports of call. If the document does not arrive there when we dock, you will be asked to disembark, find your own transportation home, and be fined $300 for a violation of the Jones Act."

"But Ivan," I want to scream, you don't understand. "SHE'S WITH ME!" Doesn't that give her some kind of diplomatic immunity or something?" I want to say that but I don't. Ivan looks like the type that will throw a spotlight in your eyes and say "Ve haf vays of making you talk." My most indignant bride reluctantly signs the papers and makes one of her better suggestions of the entire experience. "Let's go to the bar and get a drink."

Several frantic phone calls later, we make arrangements to send the birth certificate to Ketchikan where hopefully, the ship and the document would meet up. With the threat of eviction hanging over our heads, I can assure you that a thorough, carefree, relaxing voyage was nearly impossible. Yes, we enjoyed seeing Glacier Bay, the orca whales, the fine food, the entertainment, but the thought that Ivan was watching and waiting hung over us like the Alaskan rain clouds. I should also mention the bar bill was staggering and the casino took what little money was left.

We arrive at Ketchikan; the moment of truth was at hand. With great trepidation, we approach the Purser's office. Thankfully, Ivan was nowhere to be seen.

"No, we don't seem to have your birth certificate but don't worry, if there's a problem, we'll let you know." They don't have it? What went wrong? A new state of panic sets in.

As departure time approaches we have taken to hiding in remote parts of the ship reasoning that Ivan won't hold things up just to kick off a couple of Okies.

After a few hours back at sea and not seeing anyone in uniform with weapons or dogs, we resumed our normal activities but continued to watch each others back at all times for signs of danger. I started another bar tab.

Without further incident we arrived at Vancouver but still with no sign of the birth certificate. We disembarked, kissed the ground, and proceeded to customs where yet another hurdle waited. The Canadian customs man asked for a picture ID, that was it. A common driver's license was produced and we were waved through. "Have a nice day," he said. The United States Customs was a different story.

"I need to see your birth certificate lady," he growls. I cringed and pretended I was with the woman behind me.

The Mrs. gives him her sweetest little Oklahoma smile and offers up her miserable little copy.

"Next time bring the real thing," he smiles back. "Have a nice day."

Made it! Home free! I felt like I had just smuggled 10 pounds of cocaine across the border.

"We have some time before the flight," she says. "Let's see if this airport has a bar."

I gave her my sweetest little Oklahoma smile.

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