Cascade Creek, Thomas Bay/Petersburg – Southeast Alaska
There is a low-lying, narrow, forested peninsula jutting from the mainland of North America into Frederick Sound, called Point Vandeput. The Sea Lion passed this point at about six this morning. We were headed into Thomas Bay to see the snout of the Baird Glacier and the aptly named Scenery Cove. It was at Pt. Vandeput that, on August 16, 1794, Lt. Joseph Whidbey, Royal Navy, one of Capt. George Vancouver’s officers, made a formal Act of Possession of this part of the coast. He did so in the name of the British monarch, George III. The ceremony marked the final connection in Vancouver’s 3-season survey to delineate the entire Pacific Coast of the American continent between Baja California and Cooks Inlet in Alaska. To commemorate this event, Vancouver called the stretch of water after Frederick, Duke of York, the king’s son. Point Vanderput was named for a British admiral of the era.
The region remained under British administration—in effect, the fur-trading North West and Hudsons Bay Companies—until one hundred years ago this year. The Anglo-US Hay-Herbert Tribunal of 1903 ruled that, henceforth, it would be within the Alaskan Panhandle boundary.
We, aboard the Sea Lion, were content just to enjoy the magnificent, glaciated landscape. We searched the waters for whales, the coastline for bears and the skies and forested slopes for bird-life. After breakfast many of us took full advantage of the Forest Service boardwalk at Cascade Creek to inspect the extended torrent of an Alaskan waterfall, up-close. An interesting discovery along the trail was one of Alaska’s six amphibians – a rough-skinned newt (pictured). Poisonous skin protects this animal, but it may have no predators to worry about in Southeast Alaska - yet. Further south, garter snakes prey on this newt and have immunity to its toxin. At the present time, few garter snakes have made their way into Southeast Alaska. It will be fascinating to see how - or even if - a predator-prey relationship develops.
As we continued our own journey of exploration, our series of on-board lectures resumed. Today, we heard about Vancouver’s voyage and those of other European explorers and early attempts to portray this coastline on maps.
After lunch we found ourselves tied up at the small but prosperous fishing community of Petersburg, founded in the late 1890’s by a group of Norwegian settlers. Many of us were able to take advantage of flight-seeing over nearby glaciers. Others could explore the town or hike with our naturalists along a boardwalk over a prime muskeg bog, a special Alaskan environment where we found many species of the heath family, carnivorous sundew plants (pictured), and dwarf conifers. One group of hikers was delighted by a family of willow ptarmigan – a grouse that has been designated the state bird of Alaska.
Before we left the dock, Becky Knight, a Petersburg resident, regaled us with stories from the life of a local fishing family. We departed, heading north past Pt. Vandeput, now under a cloak of light mist, as we dined on a feast of fresh crab – the season had been open less than 24 hours. It doesn’t get any fresher than that!
There is a low-lying, narrow, forested peninsula jutting from the mainland of North America into Frederick Sound, called Point Vandeput. The Sea Lion passed this point at about six this morning. We were headed into Thomas Bay to see the snout of the Baird Glacier and the aptly named Scenery Cove. It was at Pt. Vandeput that, on August 16, 1794, Lt. Joseph Whidbey, Royal Navy, one of Capt. George Vancouver’s officers, made a formal Act of Possession of this part of the coast. He did so in the name of the British monarch, George III. The ceremony marked the final connection in Vancouver’s 3-season survey to delineate the entire Pacific Coast of the American continent between Baja California and Cooks Inlet in Alaska. To commemorate this event, Vancouver called the stretch of water after Frederick, Duke of York, the king’s son. Point Vanderput was named for a British admiral of the era.
The region remained under British administration—in effect, the fur-trading North West and Hudsons Bay Companies—until one hundred years ago this year. The Anglo-US Hay-Herbert Tribunal of 1903 ruled that, henceforth, it would be within the Alaskan Panhandle boundary.
We, aboard the Sea Lion, were content just to enjoy the magnificent, glaciated landscape. We searched the waters for whales, the coastline for bears and the skies and forested slopes for bird-life. After breakfast many of us took full advantage of the Forest Service boardwalk at Cascade Creek to inspect the extended torrent of an Alaskan waterfall, up-close. An interesting discovery along the trail was one of Alaska’s six amphibians – a rough-skinned newt (pictured). Poisonous skin protects this animal, but it may have no predators to worry about in Southeast Alaska - yet. Further south, garter snakes prey on this newt and have immunity to its toxin. At the present time, few garter snakes have made their way into Southeast Alaska. It will be fascinating to see how - or even if - a predator-prey relationship develops.
As we continued our own journey of exploration, our series of on-board lectures resumed. Today, we heard about Vancouver’s voyage and those of other European explorers and early attempts to portray this coastline on maps.
After lunch we found ourselves tied up at the small but prosperous fishing community of Petersburg, founded in the late 1890’s by a group of Norwegian settlers. Many of us were able to take advantage of flight-seeing over nearby glaciers. Others could explore the town or hike with our naturalists along a boardwalk over a prime muskeg bog, a special Alaskan environment where we found many species of the heath family, carnivorous sundew plants (pictured), and dwarf conifers. One group of hikers was delighted by a family of willow ptarmigan – a grouse that has been designated the state bird of Alaska.
Before we left the dock, Becky Knight, a Petersburg resident, regaled us with stories from the life of a local fishing family. We departed, heading north past Pt. Vandeput, now under a cloak of light mist, as we dined on a feast of fresh crab – the season had been open less than 24 hours. It doesn’t get any fresher than that!
