The notion has crossed my mind, more than once, how the seemingly immeasurableness of this vast inside passage has been tamed to the extent that it is now.  Tamed and abandoned.  Ghost towns, derelict canneries, entire mountains harvested of timber, lumber and pulp mills, dams, gold and other mines developed during a time when comforts were hard to come by.  They’re a testament to extreme human endeavors. It boggles my mind.  The towns and settlements that remain, strive to succeed in a mostly cruel land. It is understandable, the desire for cruise ships to harbor, to fatten the coffers for the lean times which can be nine months of the year.  Yet, the North holds abundance even now,  and I am grateful for the set-aside lands that remain wild and nearly imperturbable by humans.  

Auto pilot is a welcome amenity when the days are long.