Sitko Bay, Pond Island
Southeast Alaska has many moods that flash like shifting expressions across one face, and that face is the temperate rainforest. Remove the marine waterways and the mountain peaks and you are left with shades of green – the green of the coniferous trees dominates, but the green of deciduous trees and seasonal shrubs also contributes. However, look more closely and virtually every color of the spectrum is represented in the transient reflections of blooming wildflowers and berry bushes. They showcase the lively but subtle personality of Southeast that comes to the surface for just a short while, and represents northwest coastal life springing forth anew.
In keeping with the running-weather theme, the air was still and the waters mirror-calm. Under a brooding gray sky we boarded Zodiacs and stepped ashore in a small cove at the entrance to Sitkoh Bay. The waters here, away from any tidewater glaciers, were crisp and clear. The beach was a stretch of lightly-graded cobblestones. No alder lined the shore. Conifers formed the shoreline’s forest border. Entering the forest was like crossing an invisible yet dramatic boundary between worlds. There was no transition – one moment we were on the edge of a marine environment, the next, in the heart of a mature northern coniferous forest.
The spruces and hemlocks we had come to be so familiar with were broad and stately. The forest floor was lightly covered in devil’s club, deerberry, cow parsnip, and berry bushes. All downed branches and trees were consumed in a rich carpet of moss and lichens. This was the look of old growth. The trail from the beach quickly led to an old logging road not utilized as such for decades. Overhanging the road was an impressive archway of alders, trees that some time ago took advantage of the sunlight let in by the clearing of the old growth.
Little, if any, traffic utilizes this man-made tract. On this day it was ours alone. The walking was easy. After perhaps fifteen minutes of striding the level, dirt passage formerly used for vehicular travel we came to the edge of a gentle brook. We crossed it and then broke into a meadow that instantly showcased the seasonal polychromatic frenzy of faunal birth for which Southeast Alaska is well known. Indian paintbrush (red and yellow variants), red columbine, chocolate lilies, northern geraniums, buttercups, yarrow, and most impressively, a veritable sea of wild irises formed a quilt of exquisite, riotous color hardly seen in the most well tended domestic gardens.
Bear sign was everywhere. In the tall grass there were areas where large oval swaths had been laid flat; these are bedding zones. The meadow was intercut by tidal mud flats that bore numerous foot prints of varying sizes running in all directions. One path clearly showed two sets of prints side by side; one set was small and the other large, likely the result of a sow traveling with her cub. Scat was omnipresent. Most of the droppings were charged with grassy vegetation. Salmon in the region had yet to begin their seasonal runs, and berries had yet to ripen. The substitute for these omnivores at this time of year, largest members of the order Carnivora, is raw, green plant matter.
After exiting the meadow we found ourselves once again on the logging road. The partial skeletal remains of a young dear bore evidence of a traumatic yet natural end, likely the result of predation by a brown bear. Banana slugs periodically appeared on the road’s surface. Most were of the traditional yellow-green variety, some were milky white, and a select few of either color were dotted with black spots. Banana slugs are hermaphroditic, capable of cross fertilization when coupled with another of their kind. We crossed one pair engaged in just such an act. It may have been just another tired dirt road, but in Southeast Alaska natural wonders abound even where humankind has left its mark. Take time and look closely, for at every turn and in all directions nature still holds sway. Before returning we all stopped by the bay’s edge for a few moments of quiet contemplation.
As we sailed south during lunch, the skies finally broke. Blue sky streaked with wisps of high cirrus became the cover. The sun blazed. Conditions could not have been better. After lunch the National Geographic Sea Lion dropped anchor just offshore from Pond Island. The waters around it are an archipelago of islets and tight waterways. It and its surroundings are a tight composite of all that is Southeast. The scenery to the west was dominated by rugged peaks coifed in snow. Down low the scene was requisite coniferous green. Waters were clear and calm.
We broke into groups to hike and kayak under swelling temperatures. Kayaks fanned out in all directions from our landing beach on courses of individual discovery. It is difficult to summate the experiences, but all boats shared glorious scenery under near-perfect conditions. The hikes varied in distance and pace, yet all aimed for the lake just over the rise and back a bit from the beach. Skirting the edge of a small stream, hikers emerged on the lake’s edge. The lake itself was not a well-defined rock-lined tarn or even a meadow-fringed pool. It was an amalgam of lily ponds, beaver dams, bogs, and sopping meadows all strung together in a shallow valley. Obstacles were numerous, and the going was a bit of a trial. But with such weather and on such a stage, back-dropped by stunning white-capped heights, any hindrance to hiking was but a trifle. The experience was quite simply – brilliant.
The late afternoon began to slowly, very slowly (considering our latitude and the time of year), drift into eventide. But daylight was still strong and the temperatures unseasonably warm. After the aerobic activity of hiking and kayaking throughout the day, most of us had peeled down to short sleeves. The air was almost hot and the wind non-existent. Some of the more intrepid took the opportunity for a Southeast Alaskan dip. As word went out on the impromptu activity, numbers began to swell until a full Zodiac compliment had been marshaled. Under the collective gaze of our vessel’s vocal peanut gallery, the overheated contingent took to the invigoratingly cool waters of Southeast for a cleansing plunge. It was a baptism of sorts. We had seen and sailed upon its waters for half a week. Now some of us exposed ourselves directly to it.
As the National Geographic Sea Lion sailed on, a few humpback whales blew in the distance. South of Pond Island, snow-melt from the high peaks carved its way through rock and then trees lower down, before finally plunging to the sea in a one-hundred foot cascade. Our vessel pulled in tight to the falls. The sounds of Alaska are as vibrant as the sights when one tunes his/her ears. Here, the roar was a roaring symphony of water music. As we pulled away and came around the cove’s corner, the clear, eastern sky held a glowing three-quarter moon. To the west a setting sun lit up the high cirrus, creating a crimson tide of light that swept our day into night.
