A Fairweather Day in Glacier Bay
Shortly after six this morning, the Sea Lion pulled away from the Bartlett Cove dock, and started its voyage into Glacier Bay. To our delight, a few minutes later, we were met by a welcoming committee of sea otters. These cute animals seemed totally relaxed, floating on their backs, in the middle of the bay. One appeared to be asleep until we were quite close, when he suddenly looked up, and put his fore paws on his face as if he thought: 'Good grief, that ship is big!'
As we sailed northwards toward the Marble Islands, we had anexceptional view of the 12-15,000 foot high mountains of the Fairweather Range. Rarely are these mountains completely clear of clouds; the naturalists and the park rangers guaranteed us that we were blessed with unusually clear and sunny weather. As we approached South Marble Island, the first of its feathered residents started to appear, either flying by, or swimming near enough to be identified. First a few kittiwakes and guillemots, and then to everybody's delight some tufted puffins, followed shortly after by a pair of the much rarer horned species. Closing in on the island, we started to hear a cacophony of bird calls, and it became possible to discern all the species that were within range. Hundreds of kittiwakes either sat on neatly spaced nests on narrow ledges on the rock face, or were basking in the sun lower down among the mussels of the intertidal zone. The glaucous-winged gulls were nesting higher up, among the patches of vegetation, where the rock was less steep. A few pelagic cormorants flew by, small flocks or pairs of puffins were bobbing up and down on the waves, guillemots dove for sticklebacks or other small fry, and oystercatchers loudly announced their presence. After a while, we became aware of a deep, sonorous, growling sound, which came from the northern part of the island. Soon the source of this sound became visible, as we faced a rookery of non-breeding, Steller sea lions, squabbling over the best spots on the rocks for sunbathing. This all-male club of the sea lion world appeared to be dominated by a few very large, fully mature males, which were surrounded by admiring teenagers. Several groups of up to a dozen of the younger ones were cavorting in the water, or perhaps participating in some mysterious water sport which includes a lot of splashing, grunting and doing cartwheels.
Proceeding northwards along the eastern shore from Tlingit Point to Queen Inlet, we focused our attention on the upper grassy slopes and rocky ledges of the mountains facing us, and delighted in seeing mountain goats, solitary or in small groups, grazing on the short vegetation, or just relaxing in the warm sunlight. Our route to Tarr Inlet took us along the eastern side of Russell Island, and shortly after, brought us within view of the Grand Pacific Glacier. This giant flow of ice moves so slowly, and is so covered with debris, that it is somewhat disappointing. However, what the Grand Pacific lacks, the Marjory has in abundance: visual grandeur. This white and powder blue glacier is awesome, in its size and sheer, overpowering beauty. Its 200 foot high front is a ragged wall of ice, topped with a mass of seracs, that like giant barnacles on a white rock, cover most of the glacier. All crevasses and clefts in the ice shimmer in gorgeous blue. Glacier Bay is a world of superlatives, and seeing the Margerie Glacier is one of the most superlative experiences one can imagine.
When we arrived at the Margerie, we were hopeful of seeing some calving activity. Despite spending quite some time watching and waiting, all we got was the odd piece of ice or a bucket-full of crumbs cascading from the front of the glacier, splashing into the water below. As time ticked by, we enjoyed this minor show, but craved a big event. Just after two thirty, the Sea Lion turned southwards, and slowly started its return journey to Bartlett Cove. But before we had passed the southern end of the glacier, the hoped-for event happened. A section of several hundreds of tons of ice broke away, and slid down, with a resounding crash into the water, sending spray high into the air. A large wave spread in all directions, causing the Sea Lion to roll from side to side as it passed a minute or so later.
On our return journey out of Glacier Bay, we kept going over our incredible experience, and kept telling ourselves that we have to be among the luckiest people in the world.
Shortly after six this morning, the Sea Lion pulled away from the Bartlett Cove dock, and started its voyage into Glacier Bay. To our delight, a few minutes later, we were met by a welcoming committee of sea otters. These cute animals seemed totally relaxed, floating on their backs, in the middle of the bay. One appeared to be asleep until we were quite close, when he suddenly looked up, and put his fore paws on his face as if he thought: 'Good grief, that ship is big!'
As we sailed northwards toward the Marble Islands, we had anexceptional view of the 12-15,000 foot high mountains of the Fairweather Range. Rarely are these mountains completely clear of clouds; the naturalists and the park rangers guaranteed us that we were blessed with unusually clear and sunny weather. As we approached South Marble Island, the first of its feathered residents started to appear, either flying by, or swimming near enough to be identified. First a few kittiwakes and guillemots, and then to everybody's delight some tufted puffins, followed shortly after by a pair of the much rarer horned species. Closing in on the island, we started to hear a cacophony of bird calls, and it became possible to discern all the species that were within range. Hundreds of kittiwakes either sat on neatly spaced nests on narrow ledges on the rock face, or were basking in the sun lower down among the mussels of the intertidal zone. The glaucous-winged gulls were nesting higher up, among the patches of vegetation, where the rock was less steep. A few pelagic cormorants flew by, small flocks or pairs of puffins were bobbing up and down on the waves, guillemots dove for sticklebacks or other small fry, and oystercatchers loudly announced their presence. After a while, we became aware of a deep, sonorous, growling sound, which came from the northern part of the island. Soon the source of this sound became visible, as we faced a rookery of non-breeding, Steller sea lions, squabbling over the best spots on the rocks for sunbathing. This all-male club of the sea lion world appeared to be dominated by a few very large, fully mature males, which were surrounded by admiring teenagers. Several groups of up to a dozen of the younger ones were cavorting in the water, or perhaps participating in some mysterious water sport which includes a lot of splashing, grunting and doing cartwheels.
Proceeding northwards along the eastern shore from Tlingit Point to Queen Inlet, we focused our attention on the upper grassy slopes and rocky ledges of the mountains facing us, and delighted in seeing mountain goats, solitary or in small groups, grazing on the short vegetation, or just relaxing in the warm sunlight. Our route to Tarr Inlet took us along the eastern side of Russell Island, and shortly after, brought us within view of the Grand Pacific Glacier. This giant flow of ice moves so slowly, and is so covered with debris, that it is somewhat disappointing. However, what the Grand Pacific lacks, the Marjory has in abundance: visual grandeur. This white and powder blue glacier is awesome, in its size and sheer, overpowering beauty. Its 200 foot high front is a ragged wall of ice, topped with a mass of seracs, that like giant barnacles on a white rock, cover most of the glacier. All crevasses and clefts in the ice shimmer in gorgeous blue. Glacier Bay is a world of superlatives, and seeing the Margerie Glacier is one of the most superlative experiences one can imagine.
When we arrived at the Margerie, we were hopeful of seeing some calving activity. Despite spending quite some time watching and waiting, all we got was the odd piece of ice or a bucket-full of crumbs cascading from the front of the glacier, splashing into the water below. As time ticked by, we enjoyed this minor show, but craved a big event. Just after two thirty, the Sea Lion turned southwards, and slowly started its return journey to Bartlett Cove. But before we had passed the southern end of the glacier, the hoped-for event happened. A section of several hundreds of tons of ice broke away, and slid down, with a resounding crash into the water, sending spray high into the air. A large wave spread in all directions, causing the Sea Lion to roll from side to side as it passed a minute or so later.
On our return journey out of Glacier Bay, we kept going over our incredible experience, and kept telling ourselves that we have to be among the luckiest people in the world.
