Crrrrrunch!, scrrrraaape! Our eyes popped open. What was that? We had had a very peaceful night sailing down from Juneau, but clearly something was up. Soon, we were too. On deck we were astounded by the soaring cliffs bordering a fjord festooned with scattered icebergs; we were in Tracy Arm.
We spent the morning slowly winding our way toward South Sawyer Glacier, scraping carefully past some small pieces of ice while admiring the larger icebergs. Some of these had harbor seals hauled out, many accompanied by a baby seal. Arctic terns zipped overhead searching for small fish. We could just make out the white head of a bald eagle as it sat on its nest. We slowly navigated between the chunks of ice until we were a third of a mile from the stunning deep blue front of the South Sawyer Glacier. While waiting to see the glacier calve, we spotted mountain goats high on the wall overlooking the fjord. Then a large chunk of ice broke off the end of the glacier under water and rose to the surface like a huge translucent blue whale. It rolled up and down, back and forth, trying to find its equilibrium. With patience we saw a lot more calving, a testament to the rapid retreat of the glacier in recent years. Finally we turned back and headed for Williams Cove at the mouth of Tracy Arm.
Rubber boots were donned, for some the first time in many years, if ever, and we headed for shore to either hike in the forest or kayak. The forest hikers followed a well worn bear trail and encountered spring flowers at their peak: scarlet Indian paint brush, white cow parsnip, golden buttercup, super scented single delight, monstrous skunk cabbage and carpets of false lily of the valley. Giant Sitka spruce reached above the western hemlock in a mossy forest adorned with devils club (ouch!). Three spruce trees had been clawed by bears to leave a message to other bears as to who called by, how big he was, and to try to establish the ownership of a home range.
The kayakers, some for the first time, discovered the freedom of being on their own, skimming effortlessly over the water in peace and silence, far from traffic jams, bureaucrats and smog. Long live the wilderness!
