Sitkoh Bay, Chichagof Island
This morning the National Geographic Sea Lion slid across calm waters into Sitkoh Bay on the very southeastern corner of Chichagof Island. We were in search of anything that moved during these peaceful pre-breakfast hours. At the very entrance of Sitkoh Bay with Peril Strait, the buoy marker was loaded with Steller sea lions; instead of hearing a bell sounding position, their growls and barks called our attention in the quiet. A few hundred yards further, the flock of bald eagles I had seen earlier flying over a particular spot in the ocean, had settled on an exposed rock, all fifteen of them! Later in the morning we saw an eagle swoop down from a tall spruce and pluck a small silvery fish from the surface with impeccable precision.
Two brown bears before breakfast were our reward for the NG Sea Lion’s stealthy approach to the head of the bay; one galloped off quickly into the marsh, the other stayed on shore and foraged for fresh shoots and tubers. It had us thinking twice about our visit ashore later in Florence Bay. It added an edge to our last hike into the Tongass National Forest; to know, without a doubt that there was a large brown bear in the area, but not to see it; to understand we were visiting a wild place, not tamed despite evidence of past logging. We were perfectly safe, of course (as we always hike in groups) and so it was when we visited the slough (marshy area), walking through left-over snow on the old logging trail, registering bear prints as well as deer prints, bear scratch marks on a tree trunk, seven feet above the ground.
Our afternoon was spent cruising down Peril Strait where elusive humpback whales blew and disappeared. One particular brown bear was seen along the shoreline of Baranof Island and held our attention for a good long time as he/she grazed a small plot of fresh green grass, occasionally glancing up to acknowledge that he/she knew perfectly well we were there, but of not much interest to a bear.
Peril Strait was named in 1887 for a dramatic mass poisoning of an Aleut community after eating mussels from the region. Paralytic shellfish poisoning is now well known, but the name “Peril Strait” is more often now associated with the narrow navigational stretch known as the Sergius Narrows. Through this narrow neck of water between the islands of Baranof and Chichagof the ocean flows according to the tides. We caught an ebbing tide as we sailed southwest and added a knot to the ship’s speed. The trick is to not add too many by traveling through during the strongest point of a tidal change. This afternoon we cruised through at a stately 11.1 knots, ten from the ship and 1.1 from the tidal current helping us along. What was particularly interesting was that the second mate and Captain perused four different navigational publications to get an accurate reading on the tide change and current velocity, and not one agreed with the other (in this day and age!). We came through safely and after dinner anchored peacefully in a small cove to enjoy our last evening on board the National Geographic Sea Lion. Tomorrow, the outside world will impose its order upon us.
This morning the National Geographic Sea Lion slid across calm waters into Sitkoh Bay on the very southeastern corner of Chichagof Island. We were in search of anything that moved during these peaceful pre-breakfast hours. At the very entrance of Sitkoh Bay with Peril Strait, the buoy marker was loaded with Steller sea lions; instead of hearing a bell sounding position, their growls and barks called our attention in the quiet. A few hundred yards further, the flock of bald eagles I had seen earlier flying over a particular spot in the ocean, had settled on an exposed rock, all fifteen of them! Later in the morning we saw an eagle swoop down from a tall spruce and pluck a small silvery fish from the surface with impeccable precision.
Two brown bears before breakfast were our reward for the NG Sea Lion’s stealthy approach to the head of the bay; one galloped off quickly into the marsh, the other stayed on shore and foraged for fresh shoots and tubers. It had us thinking twice about our visit ashore later in Florence Bay. It added an edge to our last hike into the Tongass National Forest; to know, without a doubt that there was a large brown bear in the area, but not to see it; to understand we were visiting a wild place, not tamed despite evidence of past logging. We were perfectly safe, of course (as we always hike in groups) and so it was when we visited the slough (marshy area), walking through left-over snow on the old logging trail, registering bear prints as well as deer prints, bear scratch marks on a tree trunk, seven feet above the ground.
Our afternoon was spent cruising down Peril Strait where elusive humpback whales blew and disappeared. One particular brown bear was seen along the shoreline of Baranof Island and held our attention for a good long time as he/she grazed a small plot of fresh green grass, occasionally glancing up to acknowledge that he/she knew perfectly well we were there, but of not much interest to a bear.
Peril Strait was named in 1887 for a dramatic mass poisoning of an Aleut community after eating mussels from the region. Paralytic shellfish poisoning is now well known, but the name “Peril Strait” is more often now associated with the narrow navigational stretch known as the Sergius Narrows. Through this narrow neck of water between the islands of Baranof and Chichagof the ocean flows according to the tides. We caught an ebbing tide as we sailed southwest and added a knot to the ship’s speed. The trick is to not add too many by traveling through during the strongest point of a tidal change. This afternoon we cruised through at a stately 11.1 knots, ten from the ship and 1.1 from the tidal current helping us along. What was particularly interesting was that the second mate and Captain perused four different navigational publications to get an accurate reading on the tide change and current velocity, and not one agreed with the other (in this day and age!). We came through safely and after dinner anchored peacefully in a small cove to enjoy our last evening on board the National Geographic Sea Lion. Tomorrow, the outside world will impose its order upon us.
