Glacier Bay
Some of us awoke to small chunks of ice that growled and bumped against our hull as we cruised into Johns Hopkins Inlet in Glacier Bay National Park. There was a diffuse overcast and the sun’s light played across the rocks that towered above us. Clouds and mist shifted and gave us peek-a-boo views of high peaks.
Once we reached the end of the fiord we stared at the glacier. Gigantic columns of ice leaned precariously but were still held together by their frozen basses. We searched for a weakness, a place where chunks made splashes and gunshot-like bangs put us to searching frantically for their source. One thrill was when three large slabs plunged downward and later a ten story high serac toppled and was sucked up by the sea.
Just after breakfast the sun peeked out and photographers went wild. Potential photographic masterpieces were everywhere. The sun lit the edges of the seracs that contained repeating patterns of parallel lines. Mist drifted around focal points, waterlines cut perfect thirds, and reflections were better than the real thing. All of us became immersed in the raw and wild beauty.
It is a privilege to share time with a brown bear. We watched as one lumbered along the rocky coast at low tide mostly stopping at rocks to turn them over. With the same set of movements it would reach over a large rock and roll it towards itself. Over and over we watched this same motion. The massive shoulders and front legs had little trouble with rocks the size of a milk crate. With larger boulders it had to use both paws and rock back a bit. Its muzzle was then quickly thrust into the depression where crabs and small fish tried to escape before being crushed by brown lips and big white teeth. It was delightful to leave this bruin as we found it.
Later in the afternoon we visited more wildlife. We found two mountain goats on Gloomy Knob, an aptly named gray gob of dolomite. They were close enough to see their shaggy features, black horns and long face. Far up into the mountains we also saw what the photographers called two pixel sized goats. That’s all some of our cameras could discern. A few of these distant nannies had kids.
Even though the frantic nesting season at Marble Islands was slowing down, several species were there. Glaucous-winged Gulls still supported their goofy looking chicks while pelagic cormorants stood precariously on the smooth marble cliffs. Common murres huddled in small groups like tuxedo clad men at a cocktail party as kittiwakes flew about landing on the cliffs or alighting on the water in small flocks.
The puffins were gone. None looked out from burrows or floated on the water nearby until finally one single bird flew over and kept going. It seemed to pass with the speed of a summer season. Signs of fall colored the black cottonwoods yellow and the fireweed leaves red. The rest of the birds will soon be on their way, too, when winter rains begin to wash Marble Island clean again.
Some of us took an evening stroll at Bartlett Cove as a light rain continued.
