Kelp Bay and Chatham Strait
Today was a day that all of us on the Sea Bird will never forget.
It started like any other Southeast Alaska day, with artistic mist clinging to the steep walls of Kelp Bay, a long fjord carved into the mountainous spine of Baranof Island. As we approached our anchorage, a sharp-eyed guest spotted a brown bear grazing in a meadow along the shoreline. We watched the bear from a distance, and then, one-by-one, we disappeared below to graze our own buffet line. Following breakfast we explored the meadow on foot, dressed in our rubber boots. We discovered colorful displays of wildflowers, and not surprisingly, plenty of bear signs. Amazingly, the photo workshop group progressed more than 300 yards from the landing, driven by their quest for the perfect shooting star and by today’s daily assignment—close-up photos. Out on the water, kayakers explored the rocky coastline. It was a timeless morning of Alaskan bliss.
Then the bear re-appeared.
From the ship, Captain Kalback spied the young bear grazing the shoreline. Quickly, we mobilized the Zodiac fleet for a closer look. Not wanting to scare the bear away, we paddled close to shore. For more than an hour we watched the bear eating mouthful after mouthful of vegetation, to the horror of our expedition botanist, Peter Zika. Nothing scared this bear, not our engines or the clicking shutters our cameras. Finally, we pulled ourselves away for lunch. Lucky for us, the flexible galley saved a little food for the late arrivals.
Late afternoon found us cruising north in Chatham Strait. Clear skies were now above us, and the ship sailed over a flat, calm sea. As the first cocktail was being served, the call was made that killer whales were spotted ahead. After rushing out on deck, it took some time before we could see a few scattered about. But as time went on, more and more showed up, and soon we were surrounded. They swam up the port side, then to starboard. And, once or twice, even under the bow, gazing back at our bow camera. Out on deck the cameras clicked in unison as the whales surfaced. Then, just as dinner was announced, all the killer whales came together and began to swim as a big group. It was amazing to watch as the whales would disappear for brief intervals, only to reappear all at the same time. Although eating is optional, we enjoyed a fine dinner as the Captain kept the whales in view. Meanwhile, a few die-hards stood watch, recording each surfacing with delight.
Finally, as the sun approached the horizon, it was time to bid farewell. As the Sea Bird slowly turned north, we could still see the whales swimming together. Exhausted but thrilled, the nightly ritual of downloading commenced.
It was a day none of us will ever forget…
Today was a day that all of us on the Sea Bird will never forget.
It started like any other Southeast Alaska day, with artistic mist clinging to the steep walls of Kelp Bay, a long fjord carved into the mountainous spine of Baranof Island. As we approached our anchorage, a sharp-eyed guest spotted a brown bear grazing in a meadow along the shoreline. We watched the bear from a distance, and then, one-by-one, we disappeared below to graze our own buffet line. Following breakfast we explored the meadow on foot, dressed in our rubber boots. We discovered colorful displays of wildflowers, and not surprisingly, plenty of bear signs. Amazingly, the photo workshop group progressed more than 300 yards from the landing, driven by their quest for the perfect shooting star and by today’s daily assignment—close-up photos. Out on the water, kayakers explored the rocky coastline. It was a timeless morning of Alaskan bliss.
Then the bear re-appeared.
From the ship, Captain Kalback spied the young bear grazing the shoreline. Quickly, we mobilized the Zodiac fleet for a closer look. Not wanting to scare the bear away, we paddled close to shore. For more than an hour we watched the bear eating mouthful after mouthful of vegetation, to the horror of our expedition botanist, Peter Zika. Nothing scared this bear, not our engines or the clicking shutters our cameras. Finally, we pulled ourselves away for lunch. Lucky for us, the flexible galley saved a little food for the late arrivals.
Late afternoon found us cruising north in Chatham Strait. Clear skies were now above us, and the ship sailed over a flat, calm sea. As the first cocktail was being served, the call was made that killer whales were spotted ahead. After rushing out on deck, it took some time before we could see a few scattered about. But as time went on, more and more showed up, and soon we were surrounded. They swam up the port side, then to starboard. And, once or twice, even under the bow, gazing back at our bow camera. Out on deck the cameras clicked in unison as the whales surfaced. Then, just as dinner was announced, all the killer whales came together and began to swim as a big group. It was amazing to watch as the whales would disappear for brief intervals, only to reappear all at the same time. Although eating is optional, we enjoyed a fine dinner as the Captain kept the whales in view. Meanwhile, a few die-hards stood watch, recording each surfacing with delight.
Finally, as the sun approached the horizon, it was time to bid farewell. As the Sea Bird slowly turned north, we could still see the whales swimming together. Exhausted but thrilled, the nightly ritual of downloading commenced.
It was a day none of us will ever forget…
