LeConte Bay & Petersburg
We woke this morning to promising weather. The morning mist clung to the mountains as we passed in our nimble ship, National Geographic Sea Lion, but there was a glow on the horizon and soon we would see the beauty that surrounded us. As guests came out on deck for morning Wellness stretching we watched as the sun began to shine ever so slightly over the surrounding peaks. The wisps of low hanging clouds gave an added dimension to all that we were seeing, lending a mystical feel to the experience only amplified by a remote silence. Just as it was yesterday morning, the only sounds we heard were the whispers of our inner explorer calling out for more adventure.
LeConte Bay is an area peppered with icebergs calved off of the LeConte Glacier, the southernmost tidewater glacier in Alaska. The pieces are known as icebergs, bergy bits or brash. Growlers are a term given to pieces that are the same color of the water because, nearly invisible to a Captain on watch, make a growling sound when scraping along the side of the steel hull. Some would call this area an iceberg graveyard but to us it was a playground.
Shortly after breakfast the Zodiacs were lowered into the water and there we were, in groups of 6 or 8 making our way through the maze of icebergs. The water was smooth as glass and perfectly mirrored the rugged vistas ahead. Zigzagging through the maze of sculpted icebergs you could feel the air get colder, chilling the fingers that gripped tightly to cameras or binoculars. Once we were deep enough within the icebergs that binoculars were as necessary as a bathing suit, our Naturalists began explaining the differences in the bits of ice that we were seeing. Even though they are hundreds of years old (actually quite young in iceberg years) they appeared to us like works of modern art; indescribable pieces so unique that all you can do is appreciate them as they are.
The universal thought when you first touch an iceberg is surprisingly not of a philosophical nature that you would think would come along with an experience so primitive. The first thought, and sometimes the first thing that comes out of your mouth, is, “Hmm, that’s really cold,” to which the Naturalist responds, “It’s ice.” But that’s exactly what touching an iceberg and exploring Alaska does, it removes all filters from your mind and welcomes you into a place where you can just be.
Cruising through the ice, there was sudden and especially loud pop that leapt from deep within one iceberg. Half the air in Alaska went missing as we each inhaled and held our breath, waiting for something to happen. Then, in the blink of an eye, the largest iceberg in the bunch split in half. Like a grumpy old man stretching after an eight hundred-year-long slumber the ice let out a great groan. Bits of it went splashing down into the water below. The two sides ripped apart as cleanly and as easily as one would separate an orange in their hands and we watched from only a few hundred feet away as the berg twisted and turned and shed chunk after chunk from its outer shell. We approached once all had settled. The inside of the berg was a smooth with striations of the deepest blue radiating in the sun for the first time in hundreds of years. We were privileged to witness this spectacular sight.
After lunch we docked in Petersburg, a small town known as “Alaska’s Little Norway.” The town was founded more than 100 years ago by Norwegian anglers and was named after Peter Buschmann, a Norwegian immigrant who arrived in the late 1890’s and built a prosperous cannery, sawmill, and dock in town. Today, we were able to explore this fishing town by bicycle, hiking and even from above via floatplane or helicopter.
The floatplane felt more like a rocket taking us to another planet, as the view from above of Le Conte Glacier can only be described as “otherworldly.” Hovering above the glacier and surrounding bays we gazed down on harbor seals and even got a glimpse of a few mountain goats as they scurried along the rocky cliffs.
The groups that did the bog walks were led by our encyclopedic Naturalists along a boardwalk trail just above the tidal shoreline, wandering up through the temperate rainforest to a boggy area full of peat bog, bog laurel, spagmul moss, and bog rosemary that was just beginning to flower. The hike continued into a pristine tidal inlet.
No matter which activity you chose, each guest returned to the ship with a rejuvenated look on their faces, a childlike smile, and stories that captivated everyone.
Before our evening crab feast, Hotel Manager Judie gave a hilariously insightful look into the various ways to eat Alaskan King crab, complete with fork, nut crackers and even a hammer for those who had worked a little harder during the day and needed some serious protein to sustain them. The feast was delicious. Not a table was left unclean and we all went to bed soon after, dreaming of what wonders the next day would bring.
We woke this morning to promising weather. The morning mist clung to the mountains as we passed in our nimble ship, National Geographic Sea Lion, but there was a glow on the horizon and soon we would see the beauty that surrounded us. As guests came out on deck for morning Wellness stretching we watched as the sun began to shine ever so slightly over the surrounding peaks. The wisps of low hanging clouds gave an added dimension to all that we were seeing, lending a mystical feel to the experience only amplified by a remote silence. Just as it was yesterday morning, the only sounds we heard were the whispers of our inner explorer calling out for more adventure.
LeConte Bay is an area peppered with icebergs calved off of the LeConte Glacier, the southernmost tidewater glacier in Alaska. The pieces are known as icebergs, bergy bits or brash. Growlers are a term given to pieces that are the same color of the water because, nearly invisible to a Captain on watch, make a growling sound when scraping along the side of the steel hull. Some would call this area an iceberg graveyard but to us it was a playground.
Shortly after breakfast the Zodiacs were lowered into the water and there we were, in groups of 6 or 8 making our way through the maze of icebergs. The water was smooth as glass and perfectly mirrored the rugged vistas ahead. Zigzagging through the maze of sculpted icebergs you could feel the air get colder, chilling the fingers that gripped tightly to cameras or binoculars. Once we were deep enough within the icebergs that binoculars were as necessary as a bathing suit, our Naturalists began explaining the differences in the bits of ice that we were seeing. Even though they are hundreds of years old (actually quite young in iceberg years) they appeared to us like works of modern art; indescribable pieces so unique that all you can do is appreciate them as they are.
The universal thought when you first touch an iceberg is surprisingly not of a philosophical nature that you would think would come along with an experience so primitive. The first thought, and sometimes the first thing that comes out of your mouth, is, “Hmm, that’s really cold,” to which the Naturalist responds, “It’s ice.” But that’s exactly what touching an iceberg and exploring Alaska does, it removes all filters from your mind and welcomes you into a place where you can just be.
Cruising through the ice, there was sudden and especially loud pop that leapt from deep within one iceberg. Half the air in Alaska went missing as we each inhaled and held our breath, waiting for something to happen. Then, in the blink of an eye, the largest iceberg in the bunch split in half. Like a grumpy old man stretching after an eight hundred-year-long slumber the ice let out a great groan. Bits of it went splashing down into the water below. The two sides ripped apart as cleanly and as easily as one would separate an orange in their hands and we watched from only a few hundred feet away as the berg twisted and turned and shed chunk after chunk from its outer shell. We approached once all had settled. The inside of the berg was a smooth with striations of the deepest blue radiating in the sun for the first time in hundreds of years. We were privileged to witness this spectacular sight.
After lunch we docked in Petersburg, a small town known as “Alaska’s Little Norway.” The town was founded more than 100 years ago by Norwegian anglers and was named after Peter Buschmann, a Norwegian immigrant who arrived in the late 1890’s and built a prosperous cannery, sawmill, and dock in town. Today, we were able to explore this fishing town by bicycle, hiking and even from above via floatplane or helicopter.
The floatplane felt more like a rocket taking us to another planet, as the view from above of Le Conte Glacier can only be described as “otherworldly.” Hovering above the glacier and surrounding bays we gazed down on harbor seals and even got a glimpse of a few mountain goats as they scurried along the rocky cliffs.
The groups that did the bog walks were led by our encyclopedic Naturalists along a boardwalk trail just above the tidal shoreline, wandering up through the temperate rainforest to a boggy area full of peat bog, bog laurel, spagmul moss, and bog rosemary that was just beginning to flower. The hike continued into a pristine tidal inlet.
No matter which activity you chose, each guest returned to the ship with a rejuvenated look on their faces, a childlike smile, and stories that captivated everyone.
Before our evening crab feast, Hotel Manager Judie gave a hilariously insightful look into the various ways to eat Alaskan King crab, complete with fork, nut crackers and even a hammer for those who had worked a little harder during the day and needed some serious protein to sustain them. The feast was delicious. Not a table was left unclean and we all went to bed soon after, dreaming of what wonders the next day would bring.
