Le Conte Bay & Petersburg
Shape shifters loomed ahead of us, sirens in the bay drawing us closer, calling our small Zodiacs to come, investigate, listen and admire. Le Conte Bay is where we started our morning, amongst the continually morphing icebergs calved from Le Conte Glacier nearly 5 miles up the fjord. We came to respect the power of ice, the melting forces of salt water, the strength of the tides and the inevitability of gravity. Several of the crystalline behemoths groaned, cracked, rolled and settled back into an uneasy bobbing slumber, the tide rearranging the newly created fragments.
It was another day for liberal applications of sunscreen, as the air temperature at breakfast had already reached 60 degrees Fahrenheit – aberrant weather for a temperate rainforest that we are most obligingly enjoying.
For the afternoon, we headed to the small fishing town of Petersburg on Mitkof Island. Gleaming snow-covered peaks beckoned to those that chose flightseeing. The smooth gray prominence of Devil’s Thumb punctuated the skyline, giving us a point of reference in an ice covered landscape. Sticky baited sundews waited patiently in the bog for admirers to stoop and genuflect to the tiny leafy carnivores. Tangled masses of lichens, like the unkempt hair of an abandoned Barbie doll, hung in tuffs from the stunted shore pines. No matter if you walked about town, bicycled or hiked in the bog, the staccato chirping of eagles could be heard all around.
On our dock walk, while discussing and pointing out the various fishing vessels, we met Ladd Norheim of the vessel Frigidland. This boat stood out amongst others as she is a wooden boat, built in 1937 of sturdy fir. Ladd was industriously applying a fresh coat of paint as his and two other ships are to be part of a wedding and reception this weekend. The three ships will tie up and float together as his cousin’s daughter is wed in Frederick Sound. He spoke to us about the lifestyle and challenges of fishing and how it has changed over the years.
As we cruised out of the harbor of Petersburg we dove into our dinner of brown king crab legs and succulent ribs. The colors of boats, floats and blue skies shone brilliant and crisp as nary a ripple wrinkled the smooth face of the water. What will tomorrow hold? It really doesn’t matter right now, we’re experiencing the moment, and it is a smooth and blissful tonic called wildness.
Shape shifters loomed ahead of us, sirens in the bay drawing us closer, calling our small Zodiacs to come, investigate, listen and admire. Le Conte Bay is where we started our morning, amongst the continually morphing icebergs calved from Le Conte Glacier nearly 5 miles up the fjord. We came to respect the power of ice, the melting forces of salt water, the strength of the tides and the inevitability of gravity. Several of the crystalline behemoths groaned, cracked, rolled and settled back into an uneasy bobbing slumber, the tide rearranging the newly created fragments.
It was another day for liberal applications of sunscreen, as the air temperature at breakfast had already reached 60 degrees Fahrenheit – aberrant weather for a temperate rainforest that we are most obligingly enjoying.
For the afternoon, we headed to the small fishing town of Petersburg on Mitkof Island. Gleaming snow-covered peaks beckoned to those that chose flightseeing. The smooth gray prominence of Devil’s Thumb punctuated the skyline, giving us a point of reference in an ice covered landscape. Sticky baited sundews waited patiently in the bog for admirers to stoop and genuflect to the tiny leafy carnivores. Tangled masses of lichens, like the unkempt hair of an abandoned Barbie doll, hung in tuffs from the stunted shore pines. No matter if you walked about town, bicycled or hiked in the bog, the staccato chirping of eagles could be heard all around.
On our dock walk, while discussing and pointing out the various fishing vessels, we met Ladd Norheim of the vessel Frigidland. This boat stood out amongst others as she is a wooden boat, built in 1937 of sturdy fir. Ladd was industriously applying a fresh coat of paint as his and two other ships are to be part of a wedding and reception this weekend. The three ships will tie up and float together as his cousin’s daughter is wed in Frederick Sound. He spoke to us about the lifestyle and challenges of fishing and how it has changed over the years.
As we cruised out of the harbor of Petersburg we dove into our dinner of brown king crab legs and succulent ribs. The colors of boats, floats and blue skies shone brilliant and crisp as nary a ripple wrinkled the smooth face of the water. What will tomorrow hold? It really doesn’t matter right now, we’re experiencing the moment, and it is a smooth and blissful tonic called wildness.
