Alaska
All About an Alaska Cruise with The Boat Company
The Itineraries Draw Plenty of Families and Father-Son Duos
Dining in the fantail on Mist Cove (Photo: Chris Gray Faust)
The Boat Company is owned by the McIntosh Foundation, a family-run charitable organization that has its roots in the A&P grocery store fortune. The cruise line’s founder, the late Michael McIntosh, fell in love with Alaska while working on a fishing boat to supply a family-run cannery; his son, Hunter McIntosh, is still the president of The Boat Company and sails on one of the ships at least once per season.
The Boat Company’s original passengers were very targeted guests that could donate to the McIntosh Foundation’s environmental projects, and the ship still draws a certain type that wealth managers would euphemistically call “high net worth individuals.” That’s partially because of the price tag – cabins on the boats start at $11,900 per person ($18,000 for a single) for the weeklong cruise.
And it’s also based on the experience itself, which came with more than a twinge of prep. On our sailing, at least two passengers had III after their last names; references to New England and British boarding schools were made. Plummy Southern accents dominated. The boat’s salon carried a clubby air, with worn leather sofas, dark tartan plaid chairs and an open self-serve bar heavy on scotch and whiskey. We took all our meals at a single table set up in the boat’s enclosed fantail; afterward, guests would retire for cigars on the top deck or port on the main level.
While this could be pretentious, I found my cruise anything but. Father-son duos (and the wives, daughters, sisters and fiancés who loved them) made up the bulk of the passengers on my sailing; the vibe leaned male. It was sweet to see the family bonding take place, particularly among men who might ordinarily stay taciturn outside a sporting environment.
What I liked about the couples and families on The Boat Company is that no one stayed clannish. One man from North Carolina, on his third Mist Cove cruise, almost served as the ship’s mayor; although he was with his wife, son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law, he made it a point to include every passenger in the conversation. Another family came together from Maine, Florida and New Hampshire to bond, yet they too were enthusiastic group cheerleaders.
I joined that family’s 40something siblings, along with a few fellow 50somethings in Mist Cove’s famed polar plunge. Led by the youngest member of the crew, Annie Haglin, we were driven by skiff to a rocky beach in Hamas Bay, which gave us some time to psych ourselves up.
Laying our ship-provided towels on a long log, we shucked down to bathing suits and shorts, socks and water shoes. As a group, we charged into the bay, laughing and screaming as the chilly Alaska water hit us.
Once out, we celebrated our bravery with shots of Bulleit 95, a “frontier whiskey” that seemed oh-so appropriate for our week onboard Mist Cove.