It was a rainy morning in Ketchikan, and for many passengers disembarking at the first stop on our Cunard cruise last spring, that meant their shore excursions were canceled. Among them was my scheduled walking tour, which was probably for the best, since taking a guided tour during a downpour sounded like a special kind of misery.
In the ballroom of the Queen Elizabeth, ship staffers offered up as an alternative the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show, which promised "rugged woodsmen and a rowdy good time" and whose website states: "Our seats are generally covered, heated and cushioned so you can enjoy the show regardless of the weather."
I was pretty indifferent about the prospect of encounters with rugged woodsmen, but who isn't up for a rowdy good time? I signed up and received a voucher for the 10 a.m. performance.
The production is staged a block from the cruise ship docks at the former site of the Ketchikan Spruce Mill, which a brochure for the show says "served the needs of seven [salmon] canneries and was the heart of the ever-expanding timber industry in Alaska" during its years of operation, from 1903 to 1974. The site stayed shuttered till 2000, when it was repurposed to house the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show.
Lumberjack attire, cookbooks and other merchandise filled the expansive gift shop, whose appropriately rustic-Americana aesthetic reminded me of a Cracker Barrel restaurant. Souvenirs on offer included a "Kid's Lumberjack Axe" -- not really an ax, as one might suspect, but an all-wood novelty whose surface is "perfect for autographs," as the show's brochure states.
Attendees started lining up a few minutes before showtime to take their seats in one of two sections: one side representing Team USA, the other Team Canada. For the next hour or so, I joined my seatmates as ersatz loyalists to the Great White North.
A member of Team Canada during the standing block chop contest at the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show. Photo Credit: TW photo by Eric Moya
The show's rowdiness became apparent as the performers fired up their chainsaws. But beyond the power tools, the performance evoked equal parts Medieval Times and "Hee Haw": gentle, dad-jokey puns; lots of call-and-response crowd participation; and events that prioritized showmanship over competition.
For example, one chainsaw-wielding lumberjack appeared to struggle mightily during a stump-carving event, his attempt at a rabbit sculpture resembling nothing of the sort and seemingly destined for the chipper. But in a matter of seconds, a few deft strokes of the saw transformed the botched bunny into a perfectly carved child's chair. I had a sneaking suspicion that the stump was never supposed to be a rabbit, but where's the drama in flawless furniture chainsawing?
And about those "rugged woodsmen": I'm not sure if sleeveless flannel is customary lumberjack attire, but I didn't overhear any complaints about the bare, muscular, ax-wielding arms on display. (There are calendars available.)
Guests can opt to extend their experience in a couple of ways. There's an ax-throwing competition ($15 per person) and a crab feast ($145 on my shore excursions price list, which also includes show admission). According to the show's website, there's also an exclusive version of the show for Disney Cruise Line passengers that offers "kid-friendly activities before the show and special character appearances."
As the Ketchikan skies cleared, I had other ideas about how I was going to spend the rest of my time on shore till we embarked midafternoon: a little window-shopping, Filipino kare-kare stew at the Waterfront Restaurant (I figured there was plenty of time for crab), a beer or two at Fat Stan's (across the street from the lumberjack show) and so on. But I can honestly say that the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show is indeed a "rowdy good time" -- rain or shine.
See https://alaskanlumberjackshow.com.
Exploring Alaska with Cunard