By: Stasha McCormick
If you ask me why I believe in the importance of Alaska’s cruise industry, I would say this: It’s the thread that’s woven through every chapter of my family’s story—for three generations.
I was born and raised in Ketchikan, and for as long as I can remember, cruise ships weren’t just something we watched from afar: they were part of our daily life, our routines, our dinner-table conversations, even our childhood adventures.
Tourism isn’t something my family stumbled into — it’s who we are.
- My mom worked in shore excursions.
- My grandmother was a dispatcher for the Southeast Alaska sea pilots — the experts who guide cruise ships through our waters.
- My grandfather captained the pilot boats, ferrying those pilots out to moving ships in the middle of the ocean.
One of my favorite childhood memories is riding with my grandfather on the pilot boat when I was about 10. We’d leave Ketchikan and spend hours heading out into open water. Then—this is the part people can hardly believe—we’d pull alongside a moving cruise ship.
The ship would drop a rope ladder down the side, and the pilot would literally climb from one moving vessel to another. If the pilot knew I was onboard that day, he’d toss down a pizza from the ship’s kitchen. My grandpa and I would eat it on the ride back to port. I didn’t know it then, but those moments were planting the seeds of a lifelong passion for the visitors who came to see the place I call home.
My grandfather passed away this summer. He was a legend in our community. My grandmother is still with us, still full of stories, still proud of the work she did to keep our maritime world moving. And when I think about them, I think about how tourism, especially cruise tourism, didn’t just support our family. It shaped us.
When I was a kid in the 1990s, Ketchikan was a different town. Cruise ships were smaller and fewer. Fishing and logging carried the economy. One by one, those industries faded. Tourism didn’t just fill the gap — it became the lifeline. I’ve watched the town transform.
Without cruise tourism, I genuinely don’t know what Ketchikan would look like today. So many families rely on it. So many small businesses exist because of it. And so many young people get their first job in this industry. Mine was at 14, selling lumberjack show tickets.
Tourism was my path into entrepreneurship, too. The idea for the Ketchikan Pub Crawl started when I turned 21, sitting at a bar answering tourist questions for free. I joked, “Someone should pay me to sit in bars and talk about Ketchikan!” And I did. Years later, when my mom decided she wanted to start a tour company, I pitched the pub-crawl idea. Today it’s a growing business, built with love, humor, and a commitment to hire local guides first. Our guests don’t just get a tour — they get real stories from real Alaskans.
Tourism isn’t perfect, but it’s essential. Every Alaskan knows the cruise conversation is complicated. People worry about the ocean, sidewalks, overcrowding, environmental impacts, and the rise of seasonal-only businesses. Those concerns are valid, real, and deserve attention.
Ketchikan has widened its sidewalks three times in a decade. We’ve seen an influx of non-local, cruise-season-only jewelry stores. Locals sometimes feel unheard. But here’s the truth I see clearly from the ground: Without cruise tourism, Ketchikan would lose the last major economic pillar we have left.
Tourism sustains families, pays mortgages, helps kids afford college, and keeps our small businesses alive. It doubles our population each summer and keeps our downtown vibrant. That’s why I support efforts that bring balance and local voices into the conversation. We need community input and smart growth. We need corporate partners who listen. And we need locals at the table — people like me, whose lives have been intertwined with this industry for generations.
This past season felt like the first “normal” one since COVID. Ships were back. Shops reopened. The energy returned. Tourism supported jobs, revived businesses, and reminded us why we love sharing our home with the world. And yes, there are issues to solve. But there is so much worth preserving; not just for the economy, but for the generations of Alaskans who, like me, grew up with cruise ships framed in their bedroom windows and family histories forever tied to the sea.
Cruise tourism didn’t just build my career. It built my childhood. It built my family. It built my community. And with care, balance, and collaboration, it can help build Alaska’s future too.
Join Welcome Ashore Alaska
If you have a cruise tourism story — a memory, a job that changed your life, a business that grew because of visitors, or a family history shaped like mine — I want to hear it. Join us at Welcome Ashore Alaska, a growing community of Alaskans sharing real stories about how tourism shapes our lives, our towns, and our future. Help shape the conversation. Together, we can build a more balanced, more honest, and more local-driven future for Alaska tourism.
