A rough night on open seas scares me a little. Is it normal for the boat to rock this much? Through my window, the waves look dangerously high. Also, my mouth hurts.

In Ketchikan, the next morning, a beautiful Haida Indian woman shows us weavings, tunics, masks, and sings us songs of her culture, accompanied only by a slow, rhythmic drum beat.

We wander through a basement warehouse in the Totem Heritage Center viewing old, decaying totem poles, intricately carved, rescued from long houses no longer occupied by large extended families.