Glacier Bay National Park
The mist of the ages shrouded National Geographic Sea Lion as we departed Bartlett Cove at Glacier Bay National Park in the gray of early morning. The icons of change seen at this surrounding geological gem, not only over the millennia but also importantly during just the past several hundred years, brought a poignant reminder about the need to adapt. Without that ability, all may be lost.
Breaking through the early morning fog, our first encounter was with adapted species of birds at South Marble Island: tufted puffins, kittiwakes, cormorants, common murres and other species of gulls filled the air and rocky ledges along the isolated island. The lack of terrestrial mammal predators makes it a perfect choice for propagation of the species. Each one has evolved in its way with the specialization needed to survive: be it dense bones for better diving; eggs shaped to minimize rolling for better security on cliff edge nests; or the ability to fly through the sea and dive hundreds of feet deep in search of food.
Through the interpretations and presentations of our guests, Park Ranger Marylou Blakeslee and Professor of Geology Arlo Weil, we learned of peoples who called this place home – only to be driven out of this then dry land valley by cataclysmic advance of a great glacier. This was put into perspective by the evidence of our own dilemma of impending climate change. The power of ice, water and rock is demonstrated repeatedly in the landscape; and the sheer scale of it all made us mere mortals, aboard our tiny water borne time capsule, take pause.
Later, bears foraging in the intertidal were making due until the life giving salmon return, hopefully later this month. Their omnivorous diet adapted to serve their needs will see them through until then. Mountain goats scaling narrow cliffs into the low lying clouds amazed all who craned with binoculars to get a glimpse. Bald eagles soaring nearby had no need for those apparatus to scan the scene below.
Calving tidewater glaciers are the hallmark here. After witnessing breathtaking calving at Margerie Glacier, the day was completed with a blue sky vista dominated by the John Hopkins Glacier and the Fairweather Range. Its grandeur reminded us once again of our small place in the grand scheme. And then, yet another probably Hawaiian born, humpback whale bid us farewell at the silty torrent of the melt water river gushing from the adjacent Lamplugh, a tidewater glacier now grounded by its receding back up the very fiord it took so long to create. Change being the only certainty.
