A stench of vomit began to filter aboard the Kennicott. The buzz of "Yak Attack" or seeming so tickled my ears. I felt like I was in the "Twilight Zone". I wondered where in the world, up here, could yaks attack people?

According to Stu, he and the other passengers who just boarded got off the Tustumena out of Anchorage and they were attacked. Disheveled, disoriented, and grumpy they wobbled about searching for "sea legs" and towels to clean themselves up. Bouts of seasickness continued. According to the purser there were a hundred and twenty people on the Tustumena and 70% of those were now with us headed to Ketchikan.

Stu was a rough-and-tumble man; seemingly a prerequisite if one lives in Alaska. He was 6'3" tall, with a thick, shock of red hair. I was topside when I saw him so I started a conversation.

"Say, could you tell me what side of ship is the smoking section? I thought it was starboard, but I'm not sure." He glowered down at me in response and declared, "I really don't know, but does it matter? We are outside."

I didn't want to start something that could turn to a debate, so I said, "I'm pretty sure its starboard. Besides, if I'd open my eyes I'd see the ashtrays. There's one. My name's Linda, what's yours?"

"Stu," he replied with a "don