Glacier Bay National Park
What could be better than to be at the northern end of Glacier Bay National Park at six in the morning with clear skies? Golden sunlight edged the ragged peaks and slowly crept down the cold mountain sides. A few sounds like rifle shots punctuated the still air as ice snapped to relieve stress within Margerie Glacier. Calving rewarded those who waited patiently. One tall serac, or pinnacle of ice, plunged dramatically into the bay. Next we moved on to the ice -filled fiord that holds the Johns Hopkins Glacier. Every snowfield and glacier was ablaze with light. At the far end of the inlet, Mt. Orville and Mt. Wilbur poked into the sky as the photo in today’s expedition report shows.
Our next endeavor was to search for brown bears in Russell Cut, a passageway between an island and the east side of Glacier Bay. Our expedition leader found a brownie in a small stream. It soon grabbed a salmon, dragged it up onto the bank, held it down with one paw, and tore pieces off and ate them. Later we discovered another individual at a stream mouth. After some effort with no fishing luck, it moved along the beach and began to turn over rocks. This was a low tide, the best time to search for bruins foraging for intertidal tidbits like gunnels, crabs and barnacles. There is something very meaningful about watching wild bears. It isn’t that everything they do is special, it’s more that one can share a moment in time with a most remarkable character.
After lunch, our goal was to find mountain goats. It was still warm, and we spotted three lying in a snowfield, while others grazed nearby with their young kids.
Geike Inlet is a place that most boats do not have time to explore. Today this waterway gave us two young black bear cubs. Many of our guests were overcome with the adorable baby faces of these pudgy little balls of fur. We watched them as they tried to keep up with mom who methodically walked at an efficient pace. The shorter legs of the cubs forced them to hurry along and sometimes fall behind, especially when their mother stepped across boulders that they had to crawl over and around.
At South Marble Island the growls of Northern Sea Lions were the first sounds we heard. These animals are always pushing and shoving, growling at each other, crawling over one another, clambering to get to the water and then crawling back again. It’s a scene of writhing commotion. They were backlit by the low sun, so the wet bodies shined; the splashes and the atomized droplets from their breath formed a haze. A high tide had recently submerged flat rocks on the south end of the island. Large males wrestled each other to be the only one on top. The winner appeared for only a moment to be floating on the surface like a sea lion sculpture on a glass coffee table. That surely was an image a sea lion would approve of. Glaucous-winged gulls flew about, while others rested on ledges with their grey youngsters. Pelagic cormorants stood stoically about, while a few puffins drew our attention to the water.
After dinner a short walk around Bartlett Cove was a great ending to a sunshine-filled day. Darkness settled in after a beautiful sunset.
