Misty Fjords National Monument
When George Vancouver spotted a striking 237-foot high volcanic islet in 1794 in what is now Misty Fjords National Monument, he thought it resembled a lighthouse near Plymouth, England. As the Sea Bird neared New Eddystone Rock, veteran Lindblad naturalist Steve MacLean burst spontaneously into song: “ Ohhh, my father was the keeper of the Eddystone Light. He married a mermaid one fine night. From this union there came three - a porpoise and a porgy and the other was me...”
No mermaids, but we did have plenty of porpoises this morning - striking black-and-white Dall’s porpoises, Phocoenoides dall, lunging through ice rink-smooth water in pursuit of breakfast. Early Alaskan scientist William Dall continued the interwoven history naming neighboring Rudyerd Bay for the engineer of the Eddystone Light. We maneuvered the Sea Bird into this deeply incised glacially carved valley to explore, dwarfed by sheer-sloping granitic walls. Tidal reflections sewed the forest into its refracted image on the fjord’s surface. A brown bear coursed through a grassy green meadow before us. A red-tailed hawk perched above ‘Owl Cliffs’, a pair of prominent exfoliated overhanging arches.
The captain nosed our ship up to metamorphic swirls of gneiss upon which a waterfall brilliantly played. Hikers and kayakers landed from Zodiacs in a flower-profuse meadow. Alaskan spring has sprung late this year; a floral exuberance heralded summer solstice - chocolate lilies, paintbrush, violets, marsh marigolds, bog orchids, dwarf dogwood and salmonberry among others.
Hiking parties followed a trail beside a stream through temperate rainforest. A Steller’s jay mocked us as we climbed through rambling understory below giant hemlock, cedar and spruce trees. Those who ascended from the forest found themselves at the margin of a picture-perfect alpine lake seemingly spilled from a glacially ground granite bowl. Here one could peacefully reflect on Nature’s continuing processes – how ice has cut swaths through mountains, and ocean, forest, animals and adventurers have subsequently seeped in.
When George Vancouver spotted a striking 237-foot high volcanic islet in 1794 in what is now Misty Fjords National Monument, he thought it resembled a lighthouse near Plymouth, England. As the Sea Bird neared New Eddystone Rock, veteran Lindblad naturalist Steve MacLean burst spontaneously into song: “ Ohhh, my father was the keeper of the Eddystone Light. He married a mermaid one fine night. From this union there came three - a porpoise and a porgy and the other was me...”
No mermaids, but we did have plenty of porpoises this morning - striking black-and-white Dall’s porpoises, Phocoenoides dall, lunging through ice rink-smooth water in pursuit of breakfast. Early Alaskan scientist William Dall continued the interwoven history naming neighboring Rudyerd Bay for the engineer of the Eddystone Light. We maneuvered the Sea Bird into this deeply incised glacially carved valley to explore, dwarfed by sheer-sloping granitic walls. Tidal reflections sewed the forest into its refracted image on the fjord’s surface. A brown bear coursed through a grassy green meadow before us. A red-tailed hawk perched above ‘Owl Cliffs’, a pair of prominent exfoliated overhanging arches.
The captain nosed our ship up to metamorphic swirls of gneiss upon which a waterfall brilliantly played. Hikers and kayakers landed from Zodiacs in a flower-profuse meadow. Alaskan spring has sprung late this year; a floral exuberance heralded summer solstice - chocolate lilies, paintbrush, violets, marsh marigolds, bog orchids, dwarf dogwood and salmonberry among others.
Hiking parties followed a trail beside a stream through temperate rainforest. A Steller’s jay mocked us as we climbed through rambling understory below giant hemlock, cedar and spruce trees. Those who ascended from the forest found themselves at the margin of a picture-perfect alpine lake seemingly spilled from a glacially ground granite bowl. Here one could peacefully reflect on Nature’s continuing processes – how ice has cut swaths through mountains, and ocean, forest, animals and adventurers have subsequently seeped in.
