Glacier Bay National Park, Alaska
The miracle of wilderness overwhelmed us today. Soft, low clouds bathed the majestic coastal mountains through the morning, giving way to beams of sunlight as afternoon advanced. The sea air warmed, as did our interest in the magnificence of this vast wild area. Seabird species proved to us how they have long ago settled their claims to very specific niches on a small, isolated island of glacially-rounded bedrock. However, a sparse but advancing forest may some day force them to find another isolated islet. Cliff-nesting kittiwakes, a small gull species, do not infringe into the island-top grasses and shrubs where glaucous-winged gulls now tend to their soft-gray chicks. Tufted puffins burrow under the root masses of grasses and shrubs, while common murres huddle into fractures in the bedrock that are separate from those chosen by pigeon guillemots, pelagic cormorants or horned puffins. Each has its own preference.
Territorial rights were also displayed by two robust coastal brown (grizzly) bears as they fed on tiny members of the intertidal community. The bears are denizens of this park. The two we encountered were probably 3- or 4-year old siblings, the larger chasing the smaller, but both showing aggression, defense and roaring vocal intimidation. In their quiet times they effortlessly tossed aside large intertidal boulders. Eel-like gunnels under these rocks are simply tasty morsels to the bears, but help to keep them content as they await the essential proteins and fats of spawning salmon, soon to return to the many streams of Glacier Bay. A third bear, larger still, watched from the bluff above. It wanted nothing to do with the squabble below and found a separate route to the shoreline.
Johns Hopkins Glacier is positively huge. The billions upon billions of snowflakes that fall on the Fairweather Range each year compact, melt under pressure and quickly freeze again, now into larger crystals. The endless addition of weight squeezes the ice downhill, eventually coalescing into an immense and tangled river of ice. Our ship, dwarfed by the surrounding mountains, was able to penetrate through small bergie-bits and growlers to within a mile of the glacier’s snout. Although moving relentlessly, today the glacier jealously held onto its fractured face; only a few small ice balls tumbled and cracked into the tidal water below.
Our return to the south end of this 65-mile long fjord was relaxing and pleasant. Members of our young contingent were challenged by our guest Park Rangers to learn and earn, in this case their own Park Ranger certifications. The rest of us enjoyed a quiet afternoon of scenery and satisfaction, followed by a late evening stroll in a silent forest.
