Prince Rupert . . . the very name itself has a certain frontier appeal. Off-trail, different, perched along British Columbia's remote and beautiful shore at the edge of a vast wilderness.

Some readers will raise their eyebrows when we admit it's one of the reasons we chose this cruise.

We had very personal reasons for our interest and expected it to be nostalgically special. But by the time Regent's Seven Seas Mariner sailed off again after a seven- and-a-half-hour visit, it was interesting to find fellow passengers shared our enthusiasm.

But how could anyone not be impressed? This stretch of the justly-famed Inside Passage is an eye-filling panorama of mountains that plunge sheer into the sea. Edged by islands and a very sheltered harbour leading to the town, itself on an island, the area is definitely super-scenic.

The setting has fascinated visitors for centuries. Early explorers from Russia, Britain and the US arrived seeking to expand their frontiers. Hudson's Bay Company established trading posts along its coast and prized sea otter pelts were much sought by early traders.

What began as fur trade with the area's large First Nation population eventually evolved into utilising the bounty of the sea, something the native population had done for many generations.

By the late 1800s, there were already an abundance of salmon cannery villages along this coast. One such self-contained cannery close by dates to 1889, is on Canada's Register of Historic Sites and considered one of the area's premier attractions.

It's theorised Prince Rupert would have emerged onto financial pages much faster had it not been for the sinking of the Titanic. Charles Hays, president of the Grand Trunk Pacific Railroad, visualised it rivalling Vancouver as a main centre for trans-Pacific trade.

Returning from London, where he was arranging additional financing for his dream project, those plans went down with the ship when he was one of the victims of that disaster.

But we soon learned some remarkable things along those same lines are now under way and we'll be telling you about them.

Why our specific interest in Prince Rupert? In 1954 our parents took their spoiled, already well-travelled children on a cruise from Vancouver to Ketchikan on a Canadian National ship called the Prince Rupert.

To reach Vancouver, we'd driven across the west on one of our wonderful epic six-week summer trips. This was a sort of in-between part of our summer odyssey, with driving down through coastal Washington, Oregon and California still to come.

We'd eventually stop at San Marino, California next to Pasadena to say hello to our Uncle Arthur who lived there, then head east again. Our father loved to drive, and felt relaxed the minute he got behind the wheel. This sort of trip became a regular part of our life.

The cruise would stop at the booming and beautifully located pulp mill lumber town of Ocean Falls, and then Prince Rupert, before entering Alaskan waters. It was our first major cruise and although very young, we both still remember the excitement surrounding it.

Each of us has some standout memory of the ship, not unusual since we both happily remember things from very earliest childhood. Perhaps because so much attention was focused on us by remarkable parents.

A stay-at-home mother had us reading long before entering school, even swimming soon after starting to walk. I suspect our parents encouraged our early precocious childhood interest in reading maps, which kept us occupied in the back seat, then luring them down isolated back roads to historic sites which they willingly followed.

Who could forget a tall, handsome red-coated Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman with a prisoner handcuffed to his wrist en route to Prince Rupert's jail? Or local natives actually sleeping on the deck?

There was gorgeous wood panelling throughout the ship and in the owner's suite I shared with my mother. That, plus its deep maroon satin bedspreads and portholes that actually opened, left a strong impression.

So did simplicity of the standard stateroom my brother Jim and Dad shared which they laughingly referred to a "three telephone booths placed together."

Lively music was played on each departure and no cruise since has been more exciting.

This wasn't really a cruise ship, but the main transportation there, a lifeline that functioned as access to "the outside" providing residents with vital necessities of life. Passengers were treated very well, with a menu that surpassed most today, even a late evening snack. Curiously, I still remember my father, who had gone out exploring the ship, arriving in our suite proclaiming: "They're serving an evening buffet in the dining room." And off we all rushed, a family characteristic unchanged over the years.

So here we were back for the first time in all those years. We've often considered taking the ferry up from Vancouver Island, but it's not exactly the easiest place to reach.

Turns out it's now in the process of being discovered by some of the super-sized cruise ships. Being launched in ever increasing numbers, companies are faced with the challenge of discovering new destinations.

"Some of the big ones have been here wanting to open glitzy shops," lamented one old-timer all too familiar with what's happened in some Alaska ports with arrival of ultra-modern jewellery shops more appropriate in New York City.

"We like our little town fine just the way it is." And so do we.

Come along while we explore it.

There were welcoming booths on the well-maintained dock offering maps and brochures and we headed uphill studying them. We were almost immediately greeted by another welcoming volunteer ready to answer questions.

Our first one was about a monument directly in front of us featuring an unusual fishing boat. Turned out it was the Pacific Mariners Memorial Park; and the boat has an unusual history.

"We found the fishing boat Kazu Maru floating empty offshore Queen Charlotte Islands and traced it back to Japan. A lone fisherman had been reported lost at sea by his family two years earlier," the old-timer told us.

"Our tradition here is very much tied to fishing and living with challenges of the sea. So we felt it appropriate to trace his family, and bring his sister here for installation of this memorial."

It sits beside a mariner's statue looking out out over the water, with names of those lost at sea inscribed on plaques.A town with that kind of heart can't help but impress visitors. With a population of around 18,000, it has a special mood, expected in a remote region where people depend on each other.

We started out roaming the three main downtown streets, deciding to bypass their very dramatic-looking post and beam log Museum of Northern British Columbia until later. Noted for its collection of First Nation artifacts, it's on a bluff only a steep staircase or road away from the dock.

We were hoping to find out whatever happened to beloved old Prince Rupert and set out to unravel its history. But passing The Fabric Boutique on 3rd Avenue West, we were lured in by hope that elusive lighthouse material might be available. It was not but a captivating montage of ships was and we walked out with $30 worth of its last yardage.

Everywhere we encountered the same reaction when mention was made that this was our first visit since 1954. It's doubtful a visitor from Mars would be welcomed with more excitement and enthusiasm.

"You came on the Prince Rupert! Amazing!"

"You should go to the maritime centre and they'll be happy to see you and tell you about what happened to the ship," insisted the sales clerk.

That had been our original intent and we followed her directions, reversing our steps to a maritime headquarters whose door was locked.

Officials of the bank next door took time to draw us a very good map of an even better place to do some research. And people in the historic archive centre they suggested on 1st Avenue, maintained by the town and local district, couldn't have been more helpful.

"You came up here on the Prince Rupert . . . how absolutely fantastic." And out came books, vintage pictures, information of all kinds with three staffers all diligently digging for more faster than we could absorb it.

The ship certainly had a colourful history, appropriate along a route with more than its share of hazards in the early days. It was one of two identical ships built in England . . . the other was the Prince George, which we saw anchored in Valdez, Alaska at the time of the massive oil spill. It had been called into service to provide housing for the clean up crews.

To our amazement, we learned the Prince Rupert arrived in the town of Prince Rupert on June 15, 1910 and the Mayor declared a half-day holiday to celebrate the event. It was reported that hundreds toured the ship in Seattle, Victoria and Vancouver.

This was before introduction of ferries or airplanes, an era 95-year-old Bermudian Florence Brady reminisced about so interestingly in a May Mid-Ocean News column. Bermuda was similarly dependent on such well-remembered ships carrying mail, freight, passengers and news.

Thirty-three-hundred-and-eighty tons and 320 feet long, "its speed was 18 knots, but could do 20". The hull was painted black, super-structure white, with three tall funnels. Maritime literature described it as "elaborate and tastefully decorated public rooms, promenade walk, remarkably fine lines".

Apparently the German cruiser Dresden didn't appreciate its appearance. In 1915 they were about to shell British Columbia's coast when the Prince Rupert appeared on the horizon. Germans mistook its three funnels for a British warship and quickly withdrew.

During a long and dramatic career, it survived more than the usual adventures. In 1931 it sank in the harbour when workers left portholes open. It was raised and continued as before.

Certainly not the only ship "caught fast on Ripple Rock at Seymour Narrows", that problem was finally removed when that threatening obstacle was blown up. It's detailed at Campbell River's museum on Vancouver Island, and the ships still continue through that area with caution.

We both recall the Captain inviting our family up to the bridge to view that dangerous passage in the middle of the night, but our parents chose not to drag their children out of bed at that hour. Wish they had.

"Amazingly for 40-plus years, it navigated without benefit of adequate charts, navigational aids or on-board navigational electronics."

Sold to a Japanese firm about two years after our trip, it sailed to Japan as Prince Maru and was scrapped soon after.

Wouldn't it have been great if some ship like this, and those much remembered beauties that once cruised to Bermuda, had been saved as museum memories of those great travel experiences, as has been done with the Queen Mary and now the QEII which will anchor in Dubai as a hotel.

Editor's note: Due to a computer error, this column should have preceded last week's column.