Endicott Arm - Dawes Glacier and Ford’s Terror
A brown bear feeds while her three cubs frolic in the grass around her. We still have an hour until sunset on this late Alaskan evening, and we rest our eyes from the binoculars to take in the stunning scenery surrounding us. Off the ship’s port side looms Sumdum glacier, meaning “white thunder” in Tlingit. After today, we now understand the Tlingit’s motivation in the name, as the drama of Dawes glacier played before us with spectacular displays of calving and shooting ice.
We traveled many miles in the past few hectic days to board the ship last evening, but we could not dwell on our weariness for too long. Our own great distances were quickly overshadowed by that of the arctic terns who themselves traveled over 11,000 miles to meet us here at the face of Dawes glacier. Harbor seals, mew gulls and kittiwakes joined forces with the terns to steal our attention as side acts to the main attraction. We stared in awe at the immense wall of ice whose sheer grandeur and reflective hues could keep us mesmerized for hours. And then, out of complete stillness, Dawes began to roar. We watched the glacier give birth to massive bergs, thundering down its face and crashing into the water below. A slight sound delay prolonged the drama, as water and ice bits exploded like fireworks from the impact. Thrilling to watch, the falling ice made us giddy and joyful; in its aftermath, the calving humbled us as well, with its display of nature’s power in action.
The afternoon proved a perfect complement to the morning’s excitement. We set off on Zodiac tours of Ford’s Terror to discover a narrow fjord adorned with cascades and waterfalls. Dwarfed by the steep walls of banded metamorphic rock, we took a moment to admire this textbook example of geology.
The sun sets now as we cruise Holkham Bay just off of Wood Spit. The resident humpback, nicknamed “Woody” by the local wilderness rangers, bids us farewell as he swims alongside. His slow, misty exhalation lingers in the air and we realize his breath represents our own today—a deep exhalation that leaves behind the chaos at home and allows us now to simply take in the peace and contentment found only in the wilderness.
A brown bear feeds while her three cubs frolic in the grass around her. We still have an hour until sunset on this late Alaskan evening, and we rest our eyes from the binoculars to take in the stunning scenery surrounding us. Off the ship’s port side looms Sumdum glacier, meaning “white thunder” in Tlingit. After today, we now understand the Tlingit’s motivation in the name, as the drama of Dawes glacier played before us with spectacular displays of calving and shooting ice.
We traveled many miles in the past few hectic days to board the ship last evening, but we could not dwell on our weariness for too long. Our own great distances were quickly overshadowed by that of the arctic terns who themselves traveled over 11,000 miles to meet us here at the face of Dawes glacier. Harbor seals, mew gulls and kittiwakes joined forces with the terns to steal our attention as side acts to the main attraction. We stared in awe at the immense wall of ice whose sheer grandeur and reflective hues could keep us mesmerized for hours. And then, out of complete stillness, Dawes began to roar. We watched the glacier give birth to massive bergs, thundering down its face and crashing into the water below. A slight sound delay prolonged the drama, as water and ice bits exploded like fireworks from the impact. Thrilling to watch, the falling ice made us giddy and joyful; in its aftermath, the calving humbled us as well, with its display of nature’s power in action.
The afternoon proved a perfect complement to the morning’s excitement. We set off on Zodiac tours of Ford’s Terror to discover a narrow fjord adorned with cascades and waterfalls. Dwarfed by the steep walls of banded metamorphic rock, we took a moment to admire this textbook example of geology.
The sun sets now as we cruise Holkham Bay just off of Wood Spit. The resident humpback, nicknamed “Woody” by the local wilderness rangers, bids us farewell as he swims alongside. His slow, misty exhalation lingers in the air and we realize his breath represents our own today—a deep exhalation that leaves behind the chaos at home and allows us now to simply take in the peace and contentment found only in the wilderness.
