When Rain is Okay

I’d been anticipating it for days and it finally came. I woke up this morning and could sense the greyness outside. After lifting the window shades, it was confirmed, the deck was wet – it had rained. Now, the question was whether it was still raining. Usually my marker for rain is looking out the window to the puddles that live at the edge of the driveway and seeing if they’re dancing, but those had dried up so I had to focus really hard on the deck – sometimes Southeast Alaska rain is barely perceptible, just the ever slightest drizzle – and sure enough, it’s raining.

Whenever there are consecutive days of sunshine – we had five – there’s always the lingering expectation of when it will end, because it always will. We always try to enjoy the sun as much as possible when it’s around, but you can’t get away from the fact that it’ll be short-lived, a passing event, and people will later talk about it – “Remember that week of sunshine we had in the beginning of May?” The local news talked about the upcoming rain for days before it happened as a reminder to seize the moment or as a reality check. By mid-week, I was already anticipating the end of the sunshine. The local weather had predicted it for Friday, but the sun held out for one more day.

I was focused on Friday – yesterday – because I knew I’d be my first time as a Naturalist without Shari, without any backup. So I didn’t want that to be in the rain. I wasn’t ready yet for that challenge. The shining sun may be the greatest tool anyone in the tourism business has. Snowcapped mountains are beautiful and great, but they’re a thousand times more so against a blue backdrop. A humpback could be giving us the best show in the world, but it’s more enjoyable to view it from the third deck, where the sun is beating down, without fear of getting one’s camera wet. Tourists brace themselves for Alaska weather to be cold and wet, so when it’s warm and sunny instead, they feel a sense of luck as if they came to Juneau at exactly the right time, and there’s no way to manufacture that.

Or is there? That’ll be my goal – to make a rainy, dreary day on the water the best Alaska experience possible.

I’m still taking baby steps with this job though and wondering if I’m cut out for it. I try to live my life not half-assing my work. Whatever work I’m doing, I always want to give it a hundred percent and succeed. It’s been tough the past few years working as a teacher and always feeling like I wasn’t doing anything quite right and now in Juneau, a general sense of being lost in the crowd and feeling a bit odd that both my supervisors in the two jobs I’ve had so far are younger than me.

The tour went well yesterday because of the wildlife. Almost immediately after leaving the dock and me giving the safety speech, we came across a humpback. Humpback sightings continued. At one point, the tourists didn’t know which way to look because they seemed to be in various directions. While on the third deck, the water was so clear and the sun was shining just right that we could see the humpback as it swam just beneath the surface. The white of its long pectoral fins was a sight I’d never seen before. A pair of bald eagles perched in trees nearby and a small group of sea lions poked their heads out of the water to check us out.

Multiple wildlife viewings mean that I don’t have to talk on the PA. That’s a rule. Tourists should enjoy the wildlife in peace. I’m with everyone to answer any questions they have, but mainly I’m just watching like they are and ohhing and ahhing right along with them.

I talked, I did, but I could sense the too long periods of PA silence as we made the deadhead run to the lodge. It’s these moments that I’m supposed to fill. Again, the sun helped. Instead of listening to me, they were just looking out the windows enjoying the scenery as the boat moved through the glass-like water.

After we arrived back at the Allen Marine dock, the boat was tied up, the ramp was laid down, and all the tourists were filtering off, it was a strange sensation to have money pressed into my hand as I said my goodbyes. It’s an awkward practice really when it has to be done that way. I prefer the restaurant method of finding it in the bill holder or just left on the table. But getting tips felt good, too, of course, to know that my service had been valued. Besides monetary affirmation, other tourists said I did a “wonderful” job, others just walked off, which is fine. In total, I got about $35 in tips, but it went straight into the tip jar to be split among the whole crew. We all left with $8.50. This appears to be a cause of concern as other crews seem to be bringing in a lot more in gratuities. I can’t solely blame myself – I am part of a six-man crew and there is also a tip jar at the galley – but drawing in the tips is primarily a Naturalist duty. Just writing about it makes me feel uncomfortable.

During our crew talk – we’re supposed to have one at the end of every day after the boat’s been cleaned – things felt constrained, unsmooth. Many comment sheets said the volume was too low. The deckhand said he didn’t hear me do an Orca Point Lodge talk – the one about being careful walking on the dock to the lodge, Pam’s touch tank, not walking across the land bridge, and so forth. To my defense, I had done one – after their meal several tourists walked to the beach and asked me if that slim piece of land to Horse Island was the land bridge I was talking about. So when the deckhand said that, I replied that I had done one, that the low volume must have prevented him from hearing it, but I could tell he didn’t believe me and that made me feel stupid for saying anything at all. Then the captain, who was once a Naturalist, said he wanted to talk to me. He felt amiss that we still haven’t really sat down and talked and we should do it on Monday. When he initially said this, I didn’t think much of it, but later in the night, I started to worry about what he wants to talk to me about.

So I’m happy for the drizzle. It means I don’t have to feel bad about staying inside and studying more about sea lions and seals, whales and birds, islands and lighthouse, everything really. Everything.