The magic of Alaska is hard to define. As mountain enthusiasts, we've often savoured Alpine wonders across Europe, the Pacific and on to Nepal and Tibet. Each area has its own distinctive, rare environment.

But the sense of a very different kind of frontier wilderness is ever present in what residents call "The Great Land". And even though many find some of coastal Alaskan villages losing their flavour due to outside overdevelopment, you're always very close to an otherwise unspoiled landscape.

Major gold rushes receiving international attention helped put it on the world map. So intense was glitter and lure of that potential wealth that the country's early inaccessibility was little deterrent to "stampeders" rushing there seeking riches.

This cruise would call on only three Alaska ports ¿ Skagway, Juneau, the capital, and Sitka. All share settings of great geographical grandeur . . . and, interestingly, there's a spark of some encouraging travel news in all of them.

At each stop, beside the usual rush to shop for local native-made crafts, there seemed to be an above average dash into stores selling film, batteries and camera chips.

Small wonder. With the ship's photography operation selling photos at what seemed an excessive $25 each, there were definitely no crowds seeking out the shipboard display. We bought two taken of us, but that was all. Jesse James at least used a gun!

Outside developers, ranging from giant cruise line-owned Caribbean-style jewellery shops to diamond and tanzanite ones of questionable origin and ownership, have played havoc with many historic sites.

Tearing down well-preserved Klondike gold stampede-era buildings and replacing them with schlocky ones stocked with cheap Chinese merchandise was lamented by locals.

"Unhappily, our hands are tied," a US National Park Service employee had sadly told us on the last trip to Skagway in September 2004, to the extent we lacked the heart to return, remembering the old, historic, unspoiled jewel, first visited way back in 1966 and often revisited since.

And, yes, some very historic properties were gone this trip, replaced with glitzy jewellery stores, even a Middle Eastern carpet shop, all terribly out of place.

But this time we arrived to some good news. The National Park Service now owns 22 historic buildings in Skagway, a main gateway to the famed 1898 Klondike Gold Rush.

One of the most recent is con-man Soapy Smith's Bar, as well as access to a remarkable century-old collection of more than 450,000 artifacts and documents from a major collection.

At least the infamous Soapy made no pretence of being a badman of the worst calibre. His criminal ways have often been recalled in Hollywood productions and local melodramas.

Today's developer is more circumspect, often appearing before some planning board, easily convincing them that removing the old tried and true attraction and replacing it with something new and ultra modern will reap tourism rewards.

The result so often is that travelers like us totally lose interest in ever returning again. What we cared about in that destination is gone . . . and so are we.

So we loitered our way to Skagway, my brother Jim not even interested in leaving the ship after disappointing changes he saw emerging on the last cruise there. However, I was persistent and happily rewarded with the flicker of hopeful change.

Or more appropriately stated, a forceful attempt to man the bastions and stop changing its historic character before travellers turn their back on this once exceptional destination.

For starters, all first-timers will want to ride the historic train following the scenic and challenging old "Trail of '98". Then after strolling down Broadway, the town's main street, a stop at the National Park Headquarters in the old White Pass and Yukon Railroad depot built in 1898 will alert you to some special sites.

To recapture the mood of what life was like in this wild frontier, stop at the Moore Cabin Site. In 1887 Captain William Moore and son Ben homesteaded one-hundred sixty acres here, certain of its possible future as a site for mineral discovery.

Prospectors were already combing the Yukon Territory and what is now Alaska seeking treasure. One can only speculate what life must have been like there then. There's still a sense of being on the edge of the frontier, but then it was frontier in the raw. Local Tlingit natives called it Shghagwie, meaning "rugged or windy place".

Thanks to the Park Service's diligence, its original log cabin still stands. Next to it is the frame house built in 1897 which shows how Victorian influence reached even into this wilderness.

Restored as it would have been then, its interior is a wonderfully eclectic collection of everything a frontier family needed to survive. Happily, the family had photographs taken in 1904 making authentic restoration easier to achieve.

They are not exaggerating when mention is made of a tame moose used to pull a buggy. There's actually a photo to authenticate it. Ben Moore was foresighted enough to predict in a 1901 newspaper interview that his log cabin would some day "probably grow into a museum that tourists will be glad to visit".

The archaeologist ranger on duty during our visit started his career as a marine biologist and was a wealth of information. He directed us to other recent success stories achieved by the Park Service.

Happily, rules now in effect at this unique National Park site allows it to keep all monies generated here for future purchase of endangered buildings. These are then restored to original condition and where feasible leased on a rental basis to businesses.

Money thus generated goes to buy still more threatened Klondike-era buildings. A winning situation to hopefully thwart greedy overdevelopment, some of it by giant cruise lines which would Disney-ise it if possible.

So, happily, some positive things are happening in Skagway and there are several very unusual shops focusing on authentic native and local art work. We were sent to one by a park ranger to identify a very different rock specimen rock-hound Jim had acquired along the way. Turns out it was a combination of feldspar, granite and iron pyrite.

Items in this shop and a few others like it were museum quality, pricey, but endless hours go into this sort of craft produced by patient tribal craftsmen who are fast disappearing.

They're a welcome relief from the truly schlock shops in newly-constructed buildings featuring the very worst China has to offer in the way of cheap souvenirs.

Interestingly, this is a port flavoured by crew, partly because ships linger here longer than most other ports and, as several told us, "We feel safe here."

Some of them volunteered names of ports where they didn't feel safe and actually prefer not to go ashore ¿ in fact, had been attacked by locals in some ports, and at a stop in Turkey, drugged and robbed.

We were stunned to hear several Asian crew members mention Bermuda as a place they felt apprehensive about being harassed. That certainly came as a shock. Prince Rupert was especially favoured by Philippine crew, partially because of a Philippine restaurant which also served as a social club and place to mail things home.

They obviously felt completely at home there. Remember, most of them are working on ships to survive because economic hardship in their own countries make finding work impossible.

After rushing around port all day, changing for dinner seemed too much of an effort. We wanted something light, so a large shrimp cocktail for Jim, melon and proscuitto for me, and some light cheese and French rolls sounded adequate. Along with a glass of white wine for this traveller and milk for Jim, who shouldn't mix wine with evening heart medication?

"I'll send you a bottle of white," insisted room service. Time passed, a call came: "We're out of plain French rolls."

"Crackers will be fine" was my response.

A very personable waiter arrived, surprisingly from one of the most remote destinations represented by crew members and one we'd visited several times.

The crackers were there, but no cheese. And the wine was red. But we chose not to complain for fear it might jeopardise the very nice young man's job future.

It wasn't his fault . . . he was only the deliverer, not the order filler.

The same was true when we boarded and found luggage in our suite 927 for Suite8 27 ¿ this from a cruise line that persistently tells you throughout the trip that it is number one and "anticipates your every wish".

Really?

Next week: What's happening in the capital Juneau and Sitka