Glaciers, Totem Poles, and Crab Legs: Two Trips to Juneau, Thirteen Months Apart
Juneau is the first place I am covering here that I have visited twice. Once on a Holland America sailing, once on an Azamara sailing, over a year apart. Most of my Wednesday Wandering stops are one and done. So I never get to answer the question everyone actually wants to know. Does a second visit to the same place feel different, or does it just feel like reruns? Juneau gave me the answer, and it is not the one I expected.
The glacier alone gave me two completely different experiences, once on foot and once by helicopter. The gap between them is bigger than I anticipated. The tram carried me up the mountain on one trip and sat grounded on the other. Downtown, I wandered the same six blocks twice and somehow ended up with two completely different itineraries without trying. Two spots earned a repeat visit anyway. Apparently I am loyal to a fault when ice cream and beer are involved.
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Two Trips to Juneau, Thirteen Months Apart
In May 2025, I sailed into Juneau on a Holland America ship. In June 2026, I came back on Azamara. Same dock, different ship line, different excursion company, different weather. It turned out to be a completely different Juneau waiting on the other side of the gangway. Here is how each stop actually went, side by side.
Two Ways to Meet a Glacier
2025: Walking to Nugget Falls
In 2025, I booked the standard shore excursion. A bus took us out to Mendenhall Glacier, then I set off on my own toward Nugget Falls. The waterfall drops 377 feet into Mendenhall Lake, a short walk from the visitor center. The trail is flat and easy, mostly gravel. It puts you close enough to the falls to feel the spray. A sign along the way reminds you that this is also a bear trail. I appreciated that as a fact and did not appreciate it as a mood. No bears showed up for me. I did see a beach full of people who also had not spotted one, all of us photographing the same view, blue ice tucked between two mountains.
2026: Gearing Up and Flying In
In 2026, I booked a helicopter excursion through Azamara, operated by NorthStar Helicopters. At the facility, I traded my own jacket for a bright orange one, and added some heavy duty boots we were all required to wear. I already had waterproof pants and some gloves with me, so I didn’t need to use the ones provided. We each got a small pack with a granola bar and a can of water inside, with a bit of extra room for any small personal belongings we wanted to take with us. Then I locked up everything else I had brought along. Before anyone got near the aircraft, we sat through a safety briefing covering both the helicopter ride and the glacier hike.
Forty minutes after signing the waiver, I was airborne. Four other passengers joined me, all of us on headsets so we could actually talk to each other over the rotor noise. The pilot spent ten or fifteen minutes flying us through the valleys around the glacier before landing. He traced the same river that eventually feeds Mendenhall Lake, winding through a landscape striped with snow. At one point we passed over a waterfall dropping straight off a cliff face into the trees below.
More than once, somebody’s breathless “wow” came through all five headsets at the same time. I was one of the somebodies.
2026: On the Ice
Then the helicopter set down directly on the glacier. After adding crampons and a hiking stick to my outfit, I followed our guides as we spent about an hour walking on the ice itself. We wandered around the hard-packed icy surfaces, past a crevasse deep enough that the bottom disappeared into blue.
Once we were on the ice, our guides told us to empty the water from the cans in our packs. Then we refilled the empty can straight from the glacier. I did. It was cold enough to make my teeth ache, and clearer than anything that comes out of a tap. It might be the best thing I have ever had to drink, standing on top of a half a mile of ice.
Both versions are real. One costs a fraction of the other. It gets you close enough to hear the water and see the color of the ice from a respectful distance. The other puts you on top of it, cold wind and all. I am glad I did both. Now I can tell you honestly which one is worth the splurge, and which one is worth skipping if you would rather keep the money for king crab later. More on that in a minute.
The View From Above
In 2025, I rode the Goldbelt Tram, the aerial tramway that lifts riders from the cruise dock to a platform 1,800 feet up Mount Roberts. The ride takes just a few minutes. A sign near the entrance breaks down the numbers for anyone who wants them. There are 3,100 feet of cable from bottom to top, more than half a mile, and a wheel at the summit that weighs 13,000 pounds. I did not need to know that. I am glad I know it now.
At the top, there is a nature center, a gift shop, and a couple of taxidermy bears standing at full height for photo opportunities. A short walk leads to a viewpoint lined with totem poles. I took the walk, then had lunch and a beer at Timberline, the restaurant at the summit. The view of the Chilkat Mountains and the Gastineau Channel did most of the work for me. From up there, the cruise ship docks look like toys. The totem poles in the foreground make the whole scene feel more like a place than a backdrop.
The tram earns its reputation. A few minutes gets you a mountaintop view that would otherwise take a serious hike. The restaurant at the top means you can turn the trip into an actual meal instead of a photo stop. I did not know yet that this would be the one experience from 2025 I could not repeat.
Wandering Downtown
When I returned to Juneau in 2026, the tram was closed. Back in April, a tram car had come into the base station too fast, sending two employees to the hospital. The whole operation shut down for the rest of the season while it got fixed and recertified. Nobody was hurt badly, which is the important part. But it meant no repeat of my 2025 afternoon at the top of Mount Roberts. I walked past the tram building anyway. I had a short list of things I wanted to see on foot instead: a church up on the hill, the Capitol, the Seawalk, and Tahku waiting at the end of it.
So I wandered instead, and the two wanders looked nothing alike.
2025: The Pier and the Totem Poles
In 2025, I walked the cruise pier, past the totem pole trail that runs along the water. Two poles stood out. One was topped with a carved figure in a Russian-style uniform, another stacked with faces in Tlingit formline design, each with its own placard explaining the story it tells. I kept walking past the net sculptures near the end of the pier, then over to Sealaska Plaza. A three-story mural of Elizabeth Peratrovich looks out over the cruise dock there, next to a totem pole.
Peratrovich was a Tlingit civil rights leader whose advocacy helped push through Alaska’s Anti-Discrimination Act of 1945, one of the first anti-discrimination laws in the country. The mural was painted by Tlingit and Athabascan artist Crystal Worl.
2026: The Climb to Saint Nicholas
In 2026, I left the flat, tourist-shop part of downtown behind and climbed. Saint Nicholas Russian Orthodox Church sits up a steep hill. It is the kind of hill that has you stopping halfway, pretending you are admiring the view and not just catching your breath. The church itself is a small blue and white building with a gold onion dome. It has been standing since the 1890s.
2026: The Capitol and the Bear
From there, I made my way back down and over past the Alaska State Capitol. A bronze statue of William Henry Seward stands out front, holding his hat against the wind. Seward negotiated the purchase of Alaska from Russia, a deal that got mocked at the time and looks fairly reasonable in hindsight. Across the street, a bronze brown bear called Windfall Fisherman crouches over a bronze salmon in front of the Capitol. It was sculpted by the same artist, R.T. “Skip” Wallen, who later built the giant breaching whale down at the water.
2026: Finding Tahku
That breaching whale statue is Tahku, and she was my actual destination. On my way through downtown, I passed a rainbow crosswalk and a medallion set into the pavement. It reads Haa Shuká, honoring past and future generations. From there I picked up the Seawalk, and the rain, which had been threatening all morning, finally committed. I was glad I had waterproof pants and a jacket, because some stretches got genuinely heavy.
About mid-way along the Seawalk I started second-guessing my choice to do this long walk in the rain. But the views on the walk were absolutely worth it. Five or six cruise ships were lined up in port at once, more than I could easily count from any other spot downtown. Near the start of the Seawalk, I passed a second location of Tracy’s King Crab Shack. It is the same crab shack from the pier, but with a smaller crowd, worth knowing about if the original spot has a line out the door.
Tahku is a fixed bronze sculpture, cast mid breach and frozen there. Water jets and mist cycle on and off around her on a timer, enough to make the whole thing feel alive without the statue lifting a fin. I stood underneath her when the water cycle kicked on. It is not a subtle piece of public art, and it does not need to be.
Two totally different afternoons. In 2025, better weather and a shorter leash, staying close enough to the dock to see it from wherever I stood. In 2026, worse weather and no leash at all, walking further from the ship than I had all week. The real difference was not the rain or the broken tram. It was time. We were in port later in the day on the second trip. An extra couple of hours turns out to be all it takes to trade a quick loop near the pier for a real wander through town.
The Constants
Everything else about this port changed between visits. These two spots did not, because I made sure of it.
Glacier Scoops
Glacier Scoops sits right in the middle of downtown, a small counter with a waffle cone machine. The flavor list rotates, most names borrowed from something you would find on a glacier hike. In 2025, I got a cup with a blueberry swirl running through it. In 2026, I upgraded to a waffle cone, and the same case had a different rotation of flavors on offer. Comparing the two photos afterward, I realized something. I was wearing the same beanie and the same gray sweatshirt both times, over a year apart. Only the jacket and a new pair of glasses gave away which trip was which. Apparently my ice cream outfit is as fixed a routine as the ice cream itself.
Alaskan Brewing Company Public House
Alaskan Brewing Company Public House was the other repeat. It sits out on Pier 49, right on the water, with a sign visible from most of the waterfront. In 2025, I went for an early dinner: king crab legs, cracked open with the shell tools they hand you, dipped in butter. I had a pint of their Amber on the side. In 2026, I went in the opposite order, lunch instead of dinner. Instead of committing to one beer, I ordered a flight: Amber, WILDNESS, White, and Kölsch. I paired it with fish and chips. The beer batter held up even after ten minutes of me taking pictures of it instead of eating it. Same building, same brewery, two completely different meals, and I regretted neither.
The same Welcome to Juneau sign also caught me both trips, matching hat and all. A similar duplicate shot happened on the way out of port too, taken from the ship’s railing, water and mountains behind me either way. Neither one was planned on purpose. Some habits just repeat themselves without being asked.
Two visits, two very different days, and two spots that never gave me a reason to look elsewhere. If I go back a third time, I already know where I am having lunch.
Worth the Time If You Have It
- Whale watching. Juneau is one of the most reliable ports in Alaska for spotting humpbacks. Most tours run a few hours out on the water, with a solid chance of a breach or a tail slap that is not made of bronze. I looked at it seriously both trips and picked something else instead, mostly because I had already committed my time elsewhere. If your itinerary only allows one splurge excursion, this is a real contender against the glacier options.
- The Alaska State Museum. Downtown, a short walk from the cruise docks, with exhibits covering Alaska Native cultures, the gold rush, and the territory’s path to statehood. I am the kind of traveler who likes a museum stop to slow a day down. This one kept coming up in my planning both times, without ever making the final cut.
- Perseverance Trail. This 4.9 mile round trip hike starts at the end of Basin Road, a walkable distance from downtown. It follows what was once Alaska’s first road out to the old Silverbow Basin mining district. The path is wide and well maintained, with old mine shafts and ruins along the way. It branches off toward Mount Juneau for anyone who wants a steeper climb than the main trail offers.
- Hiking above the tram. The Goldbelt Tram lets you off at 1,800 feet. Several trails continue from there into the alpine terrain above the tree line. I stuck to the paved viewpoint the one time I was up there. In hindsight, that feels like showing up to a buffet and only eating the bread basket.
Closing Thoughts
So, does a second visit to the same port feel different, or does it just feel like reruns? Juneau’s answer: it depends entirely on what you choose to do with the day, and a little bit on the weather and the clock. I got a completely different excursion, a hillier walk, worse rain, and a longer window in port the second time around. None of that overlapped with the first trip in any meaningful way. The only overlap I built on purpose was ice cream and beer, and I have no regrets about either.
If you are debating whether a repeat port stop is worth your time on a future cruise, my answer is yes. That comes with one condition: you have to be willing to actually change something about the day. Same port, different excursion, different weather, different time in port, and you will walk away with two trips instead of one memory copied twice.
Common Questions
It was closed for the entire 2026 season after an April accident, with a summer reopening planned as of this writing. If you are booking a Juneau stop, check current status before you count on it. Alaska cruise operators tend to update excursion offerings as soon as the tram is back online.
Both get the job done, just at very different price points. The walk to Nugget Falls is flat, and free if you can get yourself out to the visitor center. It puts you close enough to feel the spray off the falls. The helicopter tour costs significantly more. It gets you onto the ice itself, plus a flightseeing tour of the surrounding valleys that the walking option cannot touch. Budget and mobility should drive that decision more than anything else.
Yes. Many cruise lines and city shuttles run passengers out to the visitor center for a fraction of a full excursion price. Once you are there, the walk to Nugget Falls does not require a guide.
Very. Everything in this post outside the glacier segment is within a comfortable walk of the pier. That includes the tram, the church, the Capitol, the Seawalk, and Tahku. Some of it is steep, so plan accordingly if hills are not your favorite thing.
Tahku is the bronze humpback whale sculpture at Overstreet Park on the Seawalk, cast mid-breach by artist R.T. “Skip” Wallen. She does not move, but the fountain around her cycles water on a timer to mimic a breach and a blow.
Based on my trips, yes, especially if your itinerary or the season changes what is open between visits. I got two genuinely different days out of the same port, and I would not trade either one for a repeat of the other.
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