We awoke today at the head of Kynock Inlet. Cliffs rose above the ship, and we enjoyed seeing “misty fiords” in British Columbia. We spent the morning exploring the area. Some went ashore to walk or to stake out the perfect wildlife sighting with tripods poised, while others paddled or traveled by Zodiac. Two rivers flow into the inlet. Both are spawning streams for chum salmon. But the year’s runs were nearly over. Dead fish littered the river bottoms. Blank eyes stared from bony sockets. Fanged jawbones grinned or gaped in the shallows. Tines and chains of salmon bones were scattered along the shore. Some of us found a huge old fish still swimming the river. Battered, ragged and grizzled in mold, the chum was at once grotesque and magnificent. He was an old warrior, ruined, moribund, but still defiant. Yet throughout this grim scene chimed a feeling of hope, just as fallen leaves promise a future spring. The salmon had fed the bears, which fertilize the forest into its most splendid rendition. And the fishes’ rank bodies enrich streams that will someday nourish their offspring.
Motoring down the inlet, we turned our attention to an impressive waterfall. Glaciers have carved this country into a precipitous landscape, and water tumbles to the sea nearly everywhere, but this fall was particularly grand, so the Captain took us in for a close look.
Mid-afternoon, we were moved to find a deer swimming across the inlet. The channel here was at very least a mile and a half across, so the deer looked very much alone in middle of a wide expanse. It seemed heroic like the salmon, but in an antithetical way. Slender and young, the deer seemed to embody the desperate hopefulness of new life striking out for parts unknown.
As the deer continued its journey, we continued ours. We heard more about photographic technique and prepared for our visit to Alert Bay as the Sea Bird traveled southward.
