Glacier Bay National Park
Just when you think it can’t get any better….you spend a day in Glacier Bay.
When you’re a naturalist, one of your obsessions (a good one) is to make every effort to help everyone get a good long look, at everything. You hope against hope that all eyes will be looking in the right direction at the right time. Not just a glimpse or a glimmer or a fleeting glance, but a real honest-to-goodness close-up view when magic happens. In truth, it usually doesn’t. But in truth, this was not a usual day.
Today was one of those days you wait for, when everything works. It started well before breakfast! Even before the first drop of coffee, the fog lifted to reveal a full view of the magnificent Fairweather Range. Every peak in perfect view silhouetted by a bright blue sky. Quietly alongside us, otters drifted in glass calm waters. A porpoise here, a seal there, gulls on the wing, murrelets on the sea, not a breath of wind. Before 9am we had seen dozens of tufted puffins. Not just a quick fly-by, but puffins on the water, puffins in the air, puffins on the rocks, no binoculars needed. Then sea lions by the hundreds, gulls by the score, and guillemots too. All hands on deck, with no one missing the moment.
Our fun and informative Park Ranger Kevin Richards was on hand to share his knowledge about how this land has recovered in the wake of retreating ice. A mountain goat was so close on the gray foreboding rock known as Gloomy Knob that we could easily see his body covered in a half-shed winter coat. Not your usual white dot high atop a mountain peak, this guy had four legs clearly visible just above the water’s edge. We could have turned around and called it a day by 11am but if we had, we’ve have missed the brown bear that looked as if it were emanating golden light. We watched in silence as the bear made its way uphill in an impressive climb you would have expected from a goat. Nothing implies WILD like a bear.
Beneath shining, sun-sparkled peaks we turned into Johns Hopkins Inlet and approached its namesake glacier. If only we could see a calving, a big calving…a tall 300-foot tower dropping dramatically into the water below, with a big splash and an impressive wave. You guessed it, perfection, once again.
And last but not least, one more time when all eyes were in exactly the right place at the right time, they were closed! It was actually hot on deck as we departed Johns Hopkins Inlet and in the warm sun, for the first time on this trip, we took to the deck chairs as if on a Caribbean beach. Ahhh – it doesn’t get better than that!
P.S. Did I mention the wolf?
Just when you think it can’t get any better….you spend a day in Glacier Bay.
When you’re a naturalist, one of your obsessions (a good one) is to make every effort to help everyone get a good long look, at everything. You hope against hope that all eyes will be looking in the right direction at the right time. Not just a glimpse or a glimmer or a fleeting glance, but a real honest-to-goodness close-up view when magic happens. In truth, it usually doesn’t. But in truth, this was not a usual day.
Today was one of those days you wait for, when everything works. It started well before breakfast! Even before the first drop of coffee, the fog lifted to reveal a full view of the magnificent Fairweather Range. Every peak in perfect view silhouetted by a bright blue sky. Quietly alongside us, otters drifted in glass calm waters. A porpoise here, a seal there, gulls on the wing, murrelets on the sea, not a breath of wind. Before 9am we had seen dozens of tufted puffins. Not just a quick fly-by, but puffins on the water, puffins in the air, puffins on the rocks, no binoculars needed. Then sea lions by the hundreds, gulls by the score, and guillemots too. All hands on deck, with no one missing the moment.
Our fun and informative Park Ranger Kevin Richards was on hand to share his knowledge about how this land has recovered in the wake of retreating ice. A mountain goat was so close on the gray foreboding rock known as Gloomy Knob that we could easily see his body covered in a half-shed winter coat. Not your usual white dot high atop a mountain peak, this guy had four legs clearly visible just above the water’s edge. We could have turned around and called it a day by 11am but if we had, we’ve have missed the brown bear that looked as if it were emanating golden light. We watched in silence as the bear made its way uphill in an impressive climb you would have expected from a goat. Nothing implies WILD like a bear.
Beneath shining, sun-sparkled peaks we turned into Johns Hopkins Inlet and approached its namesake glacier. If only we could see a calving, a big calving…a tall 300-foot tower dropping dramatically into the water below, with a big splash and an impressive wave. You guessed it, perfection, once again.
And last but not least, one more time when all eyes were in exactly the right place at the right time, they were closed! It was actually hot on deck as we departed Johns Hopkins Inlet and in the warm sun, for the first time on this trip, we took to the deck chairs as if on a Caribbean beach. Ahhh – it doesn’t get better than that!
P.S. Did I mention the wolf?
