The Last Frontier
At the beginning of the old Star Trek TV series, the original one, William Shatner as Captain Kirk says "Space, the Final Frontier". While Alaska's license plate motto lacks the alliteration, "The Last Frontier" is still pretty appropriate.
I used to be in the US Coast Guard, a very long time ago. One of the things I did was to be an original crew member, called a "plankowner", of a Coast Guard cutter. The ship was the USCGC MUNRO (WHEC-724). She was commissioned in New Orleans in September of 1971. I was a relatively new Ensign at that point, having graduated from Officer Candidate School in Yorktown, VA, in January. My first assignment was on a ship of the same class, the USCGC HAMILTON (WHEC-715), homeported at that time in Boston. Aboard the Hamilton I was what a friend later called the SLJO, or Shitty Little Jobs Officer, since they had a full complement of officers and I was just not needed. Then I was transferred to the precommissioning detail for the Munro, which was in Newport, RI, for the summer. I think I had just been parked aboard Hamilton to get some experience.
The Munro was commissioned on a hot September day in New Orleans. We wore full dress white uniforms. I did not own one beforehand, and desperately got a talented seamstress at the Navy Exchange to alter one to be large enough to fit me. I borrowed a saber from another officer who was going to be away that day. He was taller than me, so when it came time to draw swords, I was barely able to get it out of the scabbard. I don't remember much about the ceremony. Afterwards, we went down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico, with a pilot controlling, and once in the Gulf we lit off the gas turbines for a smooth and very fast ride over to Tampa, where we, if I remember right, collided with a stationary barge while trying to dock. The CO was rusty.
I served aboard Munro for a while, homeported in Boston, and was transferred to duty in the Rescue Coordination Center at Governor's Island, New York. I left the Coast Guard at the end of my three-year obligation, and promptly trashed the promotions to Lieutenant that they kept sending me. Eventually, I got to where I seldom thought about my time in the service.
After we retired and moved to California, we joined a club called the Ocean Hills Village Vets, based on a recommendation from our next door neighbor. Many of the vets had been career military, some dating back to World War II, others to Korea and Vietnam, and one guy to all three. The club had some interesting speakers and presentations. Only one other Coastie is in the club, plus one US Public Health Service doctor who spent some time aboard a cutter and counts himself as a Coast Guard vet. I joined a couple of Facebook groups having to do with the Coast Guard, including one called Friends of the USCGC Munro. I learned that the ship was now homeported in Kodiak, Alaska, where she helped to protect the vastly important Alaska fishing industry from foreign (meaning mostly Russian) incursion and provided search and rescue capability for the fishing/crabbing fleet in the Bering Sea.
I then learned that the Coast Guard was retiring the Hamilton-class cutters, also called 378's on account of the length of the ships (378 feet). The cutters were being decommissioned, and their secret gear and advanced weaponry was being removed, and they were painted in the scheme of whatever country would receive them. Among the recipients have been Nigeria, Bangladesh, and, very ironically, Vietnam, who received the former USCGC Morgenthau, who had participated during the Vietnam War in Operation Market Time, where the US interdicted supplies being smuggled from the North. Morgenthau also fired thousands of 5" rounds at VC and NVA soldiers while providing gunfire support. She made a round trip. But there was no word about Munro. A few years ago, a new cutter Munro had come along, and the Coast Guard had renamed my old ship as the Douglas Munro, to the vast irritation of the plankowners.
Eventually, I started to hear from the grapevine that Munro would be decommissioned in April. Due to COVID fears, the ceremony would be in Kodiak, a place where few if any non-service members would be attending. Alaska had very severe restrictions, including the requirement for a negative PCR test prior to arriving, and another in a couple of days after arrival, and you had to fill out data on an on-line application that required you to specify where and how you would isolate yourself if your test came back positive. Alaska has hospitals, but ICU capacity is limited, and in some remote areas there is no medical care to be had. So they were very careful with COVID. I wasn't sure if we would attempt to go there. But then one of the travel blogs I subscribe to arrived with the announcement that Alaska's governor had lifted the testing requirements, making them suggestions rather than mandates. Interestingly, it took a very long time for state websites to reflect this change. I checked with some people on the Flyer Talk Alaska Airlines forum, and they reassured us that the Q-tip to the brain was not an issue any longer.
So we decided to go. I had been hearing from several other former officers who were also plankowners about the ship's planned decommissioning, and one guy had all the inside scoop. We got the dates and booked travel from San Diego to Kodiak. Yes, Kodiak has an airport, with three runways. In fact, the Coast Guard Air Base is adjacent, and uses it for C-130 and helicopter operations.
We booked flights on Alaska Airlines, which is the only scheduled airline to serve Kodiak. The itinerary would be San Diego to Seattle to Anchorage to Kodiak. It could be done in one day, but we decided to spend a couple of nights in Anchorage, the only city of any size in Alaska, figuring that Anchorage would be more interesting than Kodiak. We booked what looked like a very nice hotel in downtown Anchorage, and then found that the recommended hotels in Kodiak were sold out. There are fewer than a handful of hotels there. We managed to book the Compass Suites, which promised a harbor view from every room. Hotels in Alaska are expensive. (But gasoline is cheaper than in California!)
On the day of our departure, we got a ride from a neighbor to San Diego International Airport. What a wonderful neighbor to pick us up at 4:15 AM! We got to the airport and it was a zoo, with hundreds of people lining up at the American Airlines kiosks and desks. But we were on Alaska Airlines, and avoided all of that. As we got ready for security, I discovered that the handy mesh bag I use to stash my phone, keys, change and any other metal was still sitting in a desk drawer at home. My travel skills were rusty, to say the least. No problems with security (we still have Pre-Check) but the Airspace Lounge, shared by American, Japan Air, and Alaska, and maybe British Airways if they come back, was not open yet. Our gate was at the other end of Terminal 2, so we walked on down, stopping for some coffee and a muffin along the way.
Our flight left at 7:05 AM. It takes 6.5 hours of flying time to get from San Diego to Anchorage, connecting in Seattle. Alaska Airlines is very efficient. The flight from San Diego to Seattle was just under the threshold where you could order food in advance, but they gave us some snack crackers. In Seattle we were in a different terminal from where our next flight would leave, and we rode the train between terminals. Every previous trip to Seattle had been on American, and they only use a couple of gates, so we didn't know there was a train system. It took me a while to figure it out, but as Admirals Club members, flying on Alaska, which is now an alliance partner of American, we can use the Alaska club. So we got some light munchies there, and I got yelled at for not having my mask on when I should have. Now that's a travel skill I never had.
The next leg, from Seattle to Anchorage, was scheduled as 3.5 hours, but ended up somewhat longer due to strong headwinds. We had reserved and paid for a fruit and cheese plate, which was the only way you would be able to get food at that point, and we were in the so-called premium section, which is coach with a few inches more legroom. But they blocked middle seats in this section on account of COVID, which was nice. The wine was free. The plane was pretty empty and the flight attendants did not nag about wearing masks.
Flying into Anchorage is exciting. The wind made for a hellaciously bumpy ride, and all you can see out the window is mountains, mountains, mountains, all covered with snow. The landing approach is over water, and they get really close to the water before you see the runway.
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| Lots of snow and mountains |
We had carried on our luggage, so we wheeled our way out to catch a cab. It was sunny, cool but not cold. We had mid-50's for a high and low 30's at night in Anchorage. We got a cab, and told the driver the name of the hotel. He was from South Asia somewhere and clearly had no idea what we were saying. The hotel was on E Street, and he was not a Springsteen fan and could not get it through his head what street we needed. I finally pulled up the driving directions on my iPhone and handed it to him. Poor guy.
Our hotel was The Historic Anchorage Hotel, in downtown Anchorage. It was pretty old and not in the best condition. $116/night plus tax. Our room had a king size bed, a TV, a side chair, and a tiny bathroom with a tub/shower and less storage than any bathroom I've ever seen in the U.S. The hotel had old Anchorage photos decorating the hallway. It seemed nearly empty. They served a minimal, but appreciated, hot breakfast in the hotel bar. We had a choice of scrambled eggs or a cheese omelet, and there was a pancake maker machine. Very minimal but okay. The hotel provided no maid service in the room - we did manage to get some fresh towels. It seemed no more than one or two people were working there. The lady in charge said that last summer (2020) they never sold out, and they had sold out for a few weeks this summer. During a normal summer they would sell out all the time. We were in the off season, for sure. It was late April.
Our dinner on the first night was at a restaurant called Pangea, a couple of blocks from the hotel. It was wonderful, and they had half a dozen or more vegetarian options, making Jody very happy. The food was terrific, but the restaurant was rousing itself from a COVID nap, and had only been open for a short time. The staff, while enthusiastic, were not very good. This did not apply to the chef!
We had booked a city tour for the morning of our only full day in Anchorage, based on a recommendation from the Moon Guide. I think the company should not have accepted the booking, because it was just too early in the season. The driver said it was their first. We were in a huge Mercedes Sprinter van, enough room for twenty, but just the two of us. He drove us down towards the port, but we were blocked by a parked freight train. Then we went to a place called Earthquake Park, a memorial for the devastating Good Friday earthquake that hit Alaska in 1964. It was a 9.2 on the Richter scale. The park included an area where an entire housing development had slid into the sea. Nothing remains. Loss of life was not heavy, because many were attending church services for Good Friday. While at the park, we encountered some snow and ice which made walking unsteady. A warmup (no pun intended) for what was to come.
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| Path along Flattop Mountain |
The next stop on the tour was what they call Flattop Mountain. The top of this mountain, more like a big hill, had been shaved off by the glaciers. It was a park with paved trails for walking, and a spectacular view of Anchorage and the surrounding water. But there was quite a bit of snow - maybe three feet deep in places. It had thawed and refrozen on top, and the footing was absolutely treacherous. Jody and I slipped and stumbled and fell multiple times. She had on her MBT walking shoes that compensate for her fused ankles, and I had some walking shoes which did not have enough tread for that situation. Still we got somewhere near the top, and sat on a bench while the driver took some pictures. The sun was so bright and the reflection of sunlight from the snow was so strong that we could barely open our eyes for the photo.
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| Blinded by glare! |
Getting down was a problem. The guide took our cameras down to the van so we didn't have to worry about those, and then came back to assist me getting down. We got almost to the parking lot, and I couldn't see how I could get down the rest of the way safely, so I elected to slide down on my butt. The guide went up to help Jody, and she came to the same conclusion. Not very elegant, but we've both had enough orthopedic surgery.
We were back in the hotel before lunchtime. We had to change out of cold, wet clothes, and my hands were burned from the snow, but no major damage. It could have been a disaster.
We poked around downtown, but there wasn't a lot to see. Anchorage is a sprawling city, and downtown is not that big a deal. We found a shopping mall, and an Alaska military museum. For dinner that night we ended up back at Pangea - it was really good and we didn't see any other restaurants having vegetarian options within walking distance. I think if you want to spend a lot of time in Anchorage you need a rental car.
The next day we grabbed a cab and went to the airport, and caught our Alaska Airlines flight to Kodiak. It was only 45 minutes or so. The Kodiak airport terminal is really, really small. They have no jet bridge. We had to descend from our 737 down the stairs, carrying our stuff, in the rain. It rains a lot in Kodiak, and the temperature, the whole time we were there, never varied from 43° F. We picked up a car at Avis and drove down the only road to the town of Kodiak. Two stop lights in the whole town. Our hotel, the Compass Suites, was right next to the port for the fishing fleet. The AAA rate is $159/night plus tax.
The room was a 'suite' in that it had a kitchenette, a desk, and a sofa. It also had a nice flat screen TV that sometimes came on in the middle of the night for no extra charge. Otherwise it was very comfortable. They provided coffee, juice, muffins, English muffins, and bagels in the lobby area for you to take back to your room, where there was a toaster and so forth. It worked.
That night we ate at a nearby restaurant called Henry's. It was very busy. A table next to us had some young and clean cut men and women who looked suspiciously like Coasties. They were having a good time.
The decommissioning was the next day. We drove up past the airport to figure out where the Coast Guard base was. It turns out that Kodiak has the largest base in the USCG, mostly for the air station. They have several C-130's based there and a bunch of helicopters, along with the Douglas Munro and a Medium Endurance Cutter called the Alex Haley. The Munro, of course, is not there any more, but my friend who keeps up with such things believes the USCG will be replacing her with something comparable. The Coast Guard is a big deal for the local economy. As we drove past, we could see the cutter off in the distance. We parked at a little picnic area to try to get some photos, but the angle was wrong and there was a dock in the way. So we drove up further and parked alongside the highway, and got some shots of the Douglas Munro with full Dress Ship, signal flags displayed from stem to stern. It made for a pretty good picture.
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| Dress Ship |
We had been told to show up around 11 AM, so we went to the main gate. There were signs all around saying everyone had to produce ID, including passengers. I told the guard we were there for the decommissioning, and he asked my name. I was on the list and he waved us in, telling us which way to go. No ID required. Along the way we got a look at the plane the Commandant uses - a Gulfstream V which carries a dozen or so people and has a 6,500 nautical mile range and flies at almost Mach 0.9. Nice. Non-stop from Washington, DC.
The decommissioning was not held dockside, which would have been the CO's preference, but with some VIP's present and the predictably dicey weather in Kodiak, they had it in a hangar at the air base. It made for a spartan setting. They gave us programs and a challenge coin (the coin made a major hit on social media when I posted a photo of it), and we found seats, separated six feet apart, with our names on them. I was sitting almost directly behind Senator Lisa Murkowski. Senator Dan Sullivan was sitting next to her, wearing business casual, Alaska style - a sport coat, jeans, and hiking boots. I was overdressed.
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| The star is at Kodiak Island |
The Coast Guard personnel were wearing full dress uniforms, with medals, but the officers did not have their swords. My impression of the crew was very favorable. Unlike when I was in the Coast Guard, everyone was fit, clean cut, no beards or mustaches, and the males had very short hair. The sailors were very responsive and respectful to all the visitors. A lot of the sailors were very tall, and the only somewhat overweight Coastie I saw was ADM Schultz, but who's going to tell him. A young culinary specialist sang the national anthem, acapella, beautifully. The XO was the master of ceremonies, but the Commandant did most of the talking. They recounted the history of the 378 class and of the Douglas Munro (known simply as 'Munro' for most of her career, renamed not to conflict with a newly constructed ship). Some of her adventures were pretty hair-raising. Even on her final Alaska Patrol, she had to take shelter behind an island during extreme weather.
The ship was formally decommissioned with (most of) her crew in the hangar. And when it happened, unbeknownst to us, the dress ship flags were taken down. I was really glad to have some photos from before that happened.
After the ceremony, a nice lunch was served, buffet style but with COVID rules - you don't touch the food, someone doles it out for you. The meal was prepared by the ship's culinary staff and was excellent.
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| Coast Guard Cupcake |
While we were eating, I got to meet LTJG Susan West, the person I had been emailing back and forth to figure out where to go and so forth. Ms West is around six feet tall, blonde and thin.
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| LTJG West and CAPT Gatewood |
Things have changed since 1974! The captain had announced that the cutter would be open for tours until 1400, and I asked Susan if we should walk or drive over there. It turns out it was pretty far away. She warned us about the dock - it has a strange surface, probably to allow it to drain and for the snow to fall through, but it wants to trip you every step you take. I halfway wanted to meet the Commandant, but he doesn't come to Kodiak often and was surrounded by people, and I really wanted to see the ship, so we drove over there.
The ship looked quite different. There had been a major FRAM (Fleet Rehabilitation and Modernization) and the deckhouse had been extended forward. On top of the deckhouse was a rapid-fire 76mm gun, replacing the WWII vintage 5" gun she had originally. One effect of this was that the gangway, which had always been forward, is now placed aft, because there's no room for it forward. There was no sentry or anyone checking on who came aboard. We were greeted by a Chief Gunner's Mate, Robert Jenkins, who said we could go wherever we wanted. I don't think he meant it. We went first to the bridge, and, man, those ladders were steep. I dimly recall that the ladder to the bridge was steeper than the others, but at 23 years old what difference did it make. The bridge was quite different, and felt somewhat cramped. I think they have just squeezed in more stuff over the years. The chart table was in the same place, but the never-functioning Loran sets were thankfully gone. One thing I noticed and thought strange was the copy of the Rules of the Road kept on the bridge. The chief explained that every time the Navy screws up, a new set of rules comes down from above. I guess he was referring to the collisions of the USS Fitzgerald and USS John McCain, which, from what I could tell, were largely caused by having no one looking out the window.
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| Always nice to have the Rules handy |
We also got to see the wardroom, which had basically the same layout but the large flat screen TV was new.
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| Lounge part of the wardroom |
The chief said the wardroom galley was not used any more. All meals are prepared in the crew mess, although officers still have to pay for their meals. We used to have a completely separate galley and staff. The chief let me peek in what I thought was my old stateroom. It was a total mess. The stewards used to straighten up the rooms for us, but there are no stewards any more. I have to cut whoever it was some slack. They had a lot to do to get ready for the decommissioning, and had no idea some old salt would be looking at their unmade rack.
The chief told us about the only time he had been afraid on the ship. They were in the Bering Sea, and were trying to thread the needle between two storms on the way back to port, but the storms converged and Munro took a beating in 70 mph winds and 40' seas. There was damage to the ship, and one casualty was the ship's bell, now at the bottom of the Bering Sea. It had been attached at the forward end of the deckhouse.
I have to say that when I came aboard the ship, memories flooded back. I pointed out to the chief where we had, briefly, a brig. His eyes got big about that one. We had drug problems and absence problems. Drugs were rampant in the seventies, and most of our younger guys were in the Coast Guard because they didn't want to be in the Army, so morale was an issue. He mentioned that there had been a drug scandal there at Kodiak, where some aviators had a sideline in smuggling. The whole ship had been searched and every crew member drug tested.
The final irony of this day was that the weather was fine. They could have done it dockside, except the treacherous footing on the dock might have been a problem for a couple of female guests who were wearing sky-high heels. But, to be fair, the dock is not really designed for a crowd.
By the time we passed the hangar on our way back to our hotel, the Commandant's Gulfstream V was gone. I guess he went from D.C. to Kodiak as a day trip.
We were really excited to have been there for this event, and didn't quite know what to do with ourselves afterwards. So we decided to go to Safeway. What else? There's only one supermarket on Kodiak (there is a Walmart but I don't know if it has groceries) and we checked it out. They seemed to lean towards Asian food - there are a lot of Asians on Kodiak, but they're not Chinese or Japanese, but seem to be Filipinos or other south Asians. It was really busy. After that we went to pick something up for our driver. There was a little gift shop not far from our hotel, and we picked up some tea with Alaskan herbs or some such. When we paid, I chatted with the lady running the place, and told her what we were in Kodiak to do. She asked if the decommissioned ship was a 378, and I said yes, the last one. She shook her head. She had served on the Morgenthau, and was bummed that Morgenthau was now in Vietnam. I told her it was a round trip - she had been to Vietnam during the war. She did not know that.
Dinner that night was at a place called Aquamarine, just across from our hotel. It had a variety of options for a vegetarian. We each had Stromboli, and they were so big we actually took the leftovers back to the hotel for lunch the next day. I can count on one hand the number of times I've done that.
Sunday we had a full day of Kodiak and no plan. I had tried to book a day tour, but they all either didn't work on Sunday or hadn't started doing tours yet. So we drove off to the south on the one main road, and saw a whole lot of not much. Kodiak is a very large island but it has very few people. So we turned around and went back to our hotel, ate our leftovers and headed in the other direction. Eventually, we came to the end of the road, at a place called White Sand Beach, which was not an accurate name, but it was very beautiful. Not too many people around. The major attractions in Kodiak seem to be fishing, hunting, boating, and hiking in the wilderness. None of those were for us.
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| White Sand Beach |
At dinner we went back to Aquamarine, which seemed to be almost the only thing open. We had to wait for a while for our wine (they had no unopened bottles) and while we were waiting this young-looking short haired guy came to our table and asked if I was Jim McDonough. He said he was Riley Gatewood, the commanding officer of the Douglas Munro. One of his party had recognized me. (This never happens to me - it used to happen to my father all the time, but not me.) He thanked us for having traveled so far for the ceremony and said it meant something to have a plankowner there. So I told him a quick sea story, about the first time Munro, crewed by 140 or so strangers in New Orleans, not commissioned yet, had to shift to a different dock because during high winds our dock was coming loose from the shore. I explained that most of us were still learning where the head was, and we had to get under way. Nothing like the Bering Sea, but a bit scary. Captain Gatewood stopped by again on his way out to thank us. It was pretty special.
Monday we flew all the way home from Kodiak. First we filled up our rental - a 2017 Chevy Malibu with over 47,000 miles on it. We had electronic boarding passes, but when we got there the TSA hadn't started work yet. The first people through the TSA checkpoint were some guys who had been bear hunting. You don't want to be behind hunters going through security - it takes forever for them to get through, and the TSA people get all riled up and excited and want to find things. I don't know what the hunters had, but they were pretty upset to have it confiscated. Our travel day going home was uneventful. The weather was good (except at Kodiak) and everything was on time. Our driver picked us up, despite the fact that San Diego Airport had not yet re-opened the cellphone parking lot, and our cats were beyond excited to have us back.
Our trip to Kodiak was a bit crazy but we'll be talking about it for a long time. Semper Paratus!
