George Island, Elfin Cove and Inian Islands
Alaska’s outer coastline holds a different set of southeastern moods, sometimes ravaged by savage ocean storms that beat the coast with howling winds and mountainous seas, but today the ocean was tranquil. Washes of blue appeared far above us through a translucent gray sky as the National Geographic Sea Bird slowly rose and fell through gentle swells rolling in from the Pacific. Pelagic cormorants were abundant and left the water as if connected to each other by a string, their white flank patches conspicuous as they flew.
We anchored at George Island for our morning outings and were soon launching kayaks into smooth water between ocean surges. Kayakers explored the feeling of the open ocean, its dark vast feeling, and the exhilaration of crashing waves nearby.
Hikers made their way up a new trail the United States Forest Service built to enable us to easily reach a six-inch gun put in place to thwart any attempt the Japanese may have had during World War II of reaching Alaska’s southeastern waterways. The hike also offered a chance to see more of George Island and another wild beach. One of the lucky groups watched a river otter for at least five minutes as it ambled through rocks above them and down into the water to continue on its way.
We stopped at Elfin Cove after lunch and explored this quaint village. Mary Jo Lord-Wild, a resident there, gave us some insight into what life is like in this remote location. The photographic opportunities here are vast. Most buildings have great character and have the look of an authentic movie set. Several homes had hummingbird feeders, but one in particular was incredible. Several dozen rufous hummers competed aggressively for nectar. At times they sounded like bees. These bird-friendly folks were feeding more than 30 pounds of sugar a summer, with birds showing up as early as April 6th. Needless to say most of us found this to be the most exciting place in town.
We spent our afternoon amongst the Inian Islands that stand directly between the ocean and the northern waterways of Southeast Alaska. During the 15-foot change from high to low tide gravity pulls on a tremendous volume of water and turns it into raging rivers and standing waves, whirlpools that can spin a boat and upwelling that pushes water into glassy elevated piles that soon rush to lower levels. We played upon these surfaces in Zodiacs, watching large northern sea lions thrash fish they’d caught by ambushing them when they were pulled through rocky shallows. They floated head down, watching for fish as the tidal current brought their prey, then dove at them from above as today’s photograph shows. Sea otters were also in the area and allowed us to peer at the fuzzy faces that give us such delight.
We played hard all day and were grateful for the warm ship, friends and a great evening meal.
