Tracy Arm, Alaska
Wisps of white wrapped around dark spires and slid down the hillsides to settle on valley floors. Ribbons of silver appeared and disappeared, cradled in rocky crevices blanketed by mist. On the distant shore a lone light blinked off and on in a regular sequence. The Sea Bird quietly slipped into position, red and white checkered range boards in perfect alignment behind. We moved slowly testing the current's flow. Red and green buoys defined the channel, the only safe pass to follow. But even without these man made aides we could read the signs of a sudden shallowing, an upwelling of cold deep waters winding their way to the sea from glaciers twenty-five miles away. The ice tongue was once right where we were, bulldozing tons of rock and debris at its snout. Here where it stopped an obstacle remains forcing a nutrient stream upwards. Its arrival at the surface is as clearly defined as if a line had been drawn. Precisely at its exact location a swarm of birds danced snaring planktonic prey. Holkam Bay greeted us with pewter light, its only ornamentation an intensely blue iceberg around which we circled.William's Cove bulges from the northern shore like a diverticular pouch.
As colorful kayaks silently skimmed the shore, explorers walked through the lush greenery. Each step away from the water's edge told a story of the passage of time, a story of succession and the slow rebounding rise of the land. From the intertidal one moved to an edge of sedges, then to grass and flowering plants. As the decades passed, alder shrubs took hold. Their densely packed and interfingering branches bridged, we found ourselves inside a young spruce woodland where spindly saplings fought a desperate battle to survive. A few steps higher took us back several decades more. Here trees were huge and shrubs were lush. The narrowing walls of Tracy Arm beckoned us on. Mist enfolded rounded granite domes high above. Rushing water cascaded from hanging valleys and across polished rock cliffs. Its spray melded with the rains and droplets glistened on our eyelashes, hats and mitts. At the head of the valley water took on a different form to create a surreal azure scene. Moving now as a brittle solid on a slightly plastic base, South Sawyer Glacier groaned and thundered casting its fragments forth on a journey all their own. Sawyer itself sat sedately, its shoulders resting on contorted colorful rock walls. Mountain goats and harbor seals appeared oblivious to the movement of the ice and to our presence. For today, the wilderness was ours to share.
Wisps of white wrapped around dark spires and slid down the hillsides to settle on valley floors. Ribbons of silver appeared and disappeared, cradled in rocky crevices blanketed by mist. On the distant shore a lone light blinked off and on in a regular sequence. The Sea Bird quietly slipped into position, red and white checkered range boards in perfect alignment behind. We moved slowly testing the current's flow. Red and green buoys defined the channel, the only safe pass to follow. But even without these man made aides we could read the signs of a sudden shallowing, an upwelling of cold deep waters winding their way to the sea from glaciers twenty-five miles away. The ice tongue was once right where we were, bulldozing tons of rock and debris at its snout. Here where it stopped an obstacle remains forcing a nutrient stream upwards. Its arrival at the surface is as clearly defined as if a line had been drawn. Precisely at its exact location a swarm of birds danced snaring planktonic prey. Holkam Bay greeted us with pewter light, its only ornamentation an intensely blue iceberg around which we circled.William's Cove bulges from the northern shore like a diverticular pouch.
As colorful kayaks silently skimmed the shore, explorers walked through the lush greenery. Each step away from the water's edge told a story of the passage of time, a story of succession and the slow rebounding rise of the land. From the intertidal one moved to an edge of sedges, then to grass and flowering plants. As the decades passed, alder shrubs took hold. Their densely packed and interfingering branches bridged, we found ourselves inside a young spruce woodland where spindly saplings fought a desperate battle to survive. A few steps higher took us back several decades more. Here trees were huge and shrubs were lush. The narrowing walls of Tracy Arm beckoned us on. Mist enfolded rounded granite domes high above. Rushing water cascaded from hanging valleys and across polished rock cliffs. Its spray melded with the rains and droplets glistened on our eyelashes, hats and mitts. At the head of the valley water took on a different form to create a surreal azure scene. Moving now as a brittle solid on a slightly plastic base, South Sawyer Glacier groaned and thundered casting its fragments forth on a journey all their own. Sawyer itself sat sedately, its shoulders resting on contorted colorful rock walls. Mountain goats and harbor seals appeared oblivious to the movement of the ice and to our presence. For today, the wilderness was ours to share.
