Escaping the Crowds in Juneau: The Taku Lodge Feast & 5 Glacier Seaplane Discovery
Escaping the Crowds in Juneau: The Taku Lodge Feast & 5 Glacier Seaplane Discovery
A last-minute switch from a helicopter tour turned into one of the most memorable days of our entire Alaska cruise.
When most cruise passengers think about Juneau, the conversation usually circles back to the Mendenhall Glacier. Bus tours, helicopter rides, glacier treks, and visitor-center stops dominate most of the pre-port discussion. That was originally our plan, too.
We had booked a Mendenhall excursion, but at the last minute April wasn't entirely comfortable with the helicopter portion. Looking for an alternative, we switched to the Taku Lodge Feast & 5 Glacier Seaplane Discovery, operated out of downtown Juneau by Wings Airways. By the end of the day, we were both glad we did.
The downtown Juneau seaplane base — where the day begins.
Getting to the Seaplane Base
After leaving the Noordam, we walked along the Juneau waterfront toward the seaplane terminal. It wasn't far — roughly 300 to 400 yards from the main pier area — and it gave us a chance to take in a different side of downtown. We passed restaurants, souvenir shops, and even a knife store before reaching the bright blue building that serves as the seaplane base.
Several seaplanes were tied up at the dock, rocking gently on the water. There is something distinctly Alaskan about seeing them up close. They are so woven into life in remote areas that they feel commonplace to locals, yet for a visitor they immediately create a sense of adventure. Before long, we were climbing aboard a de Havilland Otter and preparing for takeoff.
The Flight Out
As the plane lifted off the water, Juneau shrank quickly beneath us. We could see cruise ships in the harbor and another ship working its way toward town. Within minutes, the city gave way to wilderness.
Minutes out of Juneau, the city gives way to snow-covered peaks in every direction.
The flight itself was the part we underestimated. Snow-covered peaks rose in every direction. Lakes mirrored the mountains around them. Deep valleys ran toward the horizon, and glaciers appeared around nearly every turn. The tour is built around five glaciers flowing off the Juneau Icefield, but honestly we lost count — there was simply too much to absorb. For roughly 30 to 40 minutes we flew over a landscape that felt untouched and immense, with another reason to look out a different window every few moments.
The Five Glaciers on the Route
Frozen valleys and glaciers flowing off the Juneau Icefield — too much to take in from one window.
Arriving at Taku Lodge
Eventually we descended toward the Taku River and touched down on the water near the lodge. As we stepped off the plane, the previous group was preparing to leave. A few of them mentioned a black bear had been wandering the property earlier that day, which immediately raised everyone's expectations.
Tied up on the Taku River — the lodge is reachable only by floatplane or boat.
Before we even reached the lodge, another sense took over: the smell. Near the entrance, a staff member was tending a large outdoor grill where salmon cooked over alder wood. Thick strips of alder had been cut down into pieces about the size of kindling and burned down to coals. The combination of wood smoke and salmon drifting across the grounds was enough to make everyone hungry.
Wild salmon over alderwood coals — you smell it before you see the lodge.
After a short orientation, we had time to explore before lunch. The grounds were the kind of place you stop walking just to look around. Directly across the river stood views toward the Taku Glacier. The underbrush was vibrant green, and the surrounding forest felt lush and almost prehistoric. The canopy overhead, the colors of the vegetation, and the sense of isolation combined into an atmosphere unlike anywhere else we visited on the cruise.
The grounds: lush forest on one side, glacier views across the river on the other.
The trail behind the lodge — where we were headed when Hans turned up.
Meeting Hans
As we made our way back toward the lodge, a black bear emerged from the woods. Everyone paused. The bear, however, was completely unconcerned with us. He walked straight to the outdoor cooking area, climbed onto the grill structure, and began licking up the leftover salmon oil and residue.
Hans, unbothered, heading straight for the leftover salmon oil.
The most telling part was watching the staff react — or rather, not react. They knew exactly who he was. The bear is a regular visitor and has earned a name over the years.
The bear warning sign isn't decoration — Hans treats the grill pavilion like his own.
Inside the Lodge
The lodge itself was exactly what we'd imagined a historic Alaskan wilderness lodge should be. Animal furs covered the walls. Bear skulls and historical artifacts were displayed throughout. There were old winter garments from previous owners and an antique dog sled set up inside. What struck us most was how authentic it all felt — this wasn't a recreated wilderness lodge, it was a real one.
Furs, wildlife mounts, and artifacts throughout — the lodge wears its history honestly.
Part of that comes from its isolation. There are no roads to Taku Lodge. You arrive by boat or by seaplane, full stop. The lodge was built in 1923 and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and standing inside, it was easy to picture life here decades ago, when the outside world felt much farther away.
The Feast
Lunch centered on the salmon we'd watched cooking outside. The meal included freshly grilled salmon, coleslaw, pioneer beans, a stewed apple dish, and an herb biscuit. Everything was well prepared, and the staff continuously walked the dining room offering seconds. Nobody was leaving hungry.
The dining room, where the staff kept the seconds coming.
The salmon bake: alderwood-grilled salmon with the made-from-scratch sides.
While we ate, one of the guides shared the lodge's history. One story stood out: a woman who bred huskies here once completed a journey of roughly a thousand miles with her dogs to reach a winter carnival in Fairbanks, to demonstrate the quality of her dogs and her own determination. Suddenly the antique sled inside wasn't just an artifact — it was a real piece of Alaska's past.
Practical Notes for Cruisers
- Book early. Seaplane capacity is limited (the Otter seats about 10), and this tour sells out in peak summer months.
- The seaplane base is in the blue Merchants Wharf building, a short walk from the cruise docks — roughly 300 to 400 yards.
- Dress in layers. It can be cool at the dock and warmer at the lodge; weather in Southeast Alaska shifts fast.
- This is a weather-dependent flight. Build it into an earlier part of your port day in case of a delay or reschedule.
- There is a per-passenger weight policy on the floatplane — check current limits when you book.
- Bring a camera with room to spare. Between the glaciers, the lodge, and a possible bear sighting, you'll use it.
The Waterfall Walk
After lunch, we joined a guided walk to a waterfall behind the property. The trail wound through the forest and gave the guide a chance to point out local plants and their traditional uses. One that stood out was Dragon's Tail, used by Native peoples for various purposes. The walk wasn't difficult — it was just another excuse to spend time in a beautiful setting.
The waterfall at the end of the guided trail behind the lodge.
The trail itself: rainforest greenery, a mountain view, and yellow skunk cabbage along the stream.
The Best Part Was the Quiet
When we returned, we still had free time before departing, and for us those final minutes became the highlight. I found a chair overlooking the glacier and simply sat. The temperature was perfect — probably 70 to 75 degrees — and other than the quiet conversation of fellow guests and a breeze moving through the trees, there was almost complete silence.
While we sat, April spotted Hans again. This time he seemed far less interested in food — apparently satisfied with the morning's salmon oil, he stretched out in the sunshine and relaxed. It was a fitting last memory before we boarded for the flight home.
The last quiet stretch before the flight back — perfect temperature, near-total silence.
The Flight Back — and the Verdict
The return flight offered one more pass over the scenery. On both legs the pilots narrated through the headsets, explaining the local geography, identifying landmarks, and sharing stories about life in Southeast Alaska.
Would we do it again? Without hesitation. One of the things we appreciated most was that it felt removed from the crowds. According to our pilot, most helicopter traffic operates around the Mendenhall Glacier, while the Taku River region feels quieter and less visited. We've never seen Mendenhall firsthand, but it was refreshing to spend a port day somewhere that felt genuinely remote.
The combination of glacier views, the seaplane flight, the wilderness scenery, a memorable salmon feast, local history, and a resident black bear named Hans added up to a day that felt uniquely Alaskan. Of everything we did in Juneau, this is the one that stands out.
Taku Lodge Seaplane Tour FAQ
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