Georges Island, Elfin Cove, and killer whales!
This morning we finally entered Southeast Alaska. For the first time in the voyage, we awoke to misty skies and low-hanging clouds. Moisture hung in the air, a welcome relief from the sunny skies, not just for us but even more so for the mosses and ferns. Add to this a wonderful low tide, and we had the makings of a fantastic adventure. Taking the time to look closely at a place can reveal unrecognized treasures. On our hands and knees, we explored the shoreline boulders and kelps of Georges Island. We poked anemones, cradled hermit crabs, lifted limpets from their rock ledges, and swept snails close to our faces for inspection. Winner of “Species of the Day” in the intertidal had to be a tie between the large sunflower star with its army of arms lined with hundreds of tube feet and the anemones with pink-tipped tentacles hesitatingly protruding from rock cracks. Some of the anemones we saw were very motherly, with small babies lining the edges of their body column skirts. Other anemones clone themselves by splitting in half or by dropping off pieces of their pedal disk, so that they literally have a line of smaller anemones trailing behind them.
After lunch, we entered the small town of Elfin Cove. The economy here is based on fishing and hunting lodges, but this is a much smaller town than Petersburg: several hundred people in the summer but fewer than twenty residents during the winter. Someone on the ship has wonderful weather karma. Coming back from our hikes it started to rain, but when we went to Elfin Cove, the sun came out, and boarding the boat again it started to pour rain, then, as we cruised the Inian Islands looking for wildlife, it was mostly sunny on deck. Nothing better than watching Steller sea lions thrash salmon, gulls hungrily gulping down pink scraps of floating flesh with a light mist surrounding you.
Suddenly, out of the mist like black submarines with their periscopes raised, a large pod of killer whales emerged. Regardless of the now-steady rain, we poured onto deck to view what we had been waiting for. This was an immense group of animals: over twenty indidividuals strong, with a calf so young that its patches were yellow, and a number of large males, their straight pointed dorsal fins towering above sleek black bodies. At a full stop, we gasped as the whales swam right past the ship. If the windows in the lounge could be opened, the passengers watching from there would have been able to pet the passing backs. Well, maybe there is something better than watching Steller sea lions eating salmon, but to be able to watch both that and the killer whales. . . it doesn’t get more magical.
This morning we finally entered Southeast Alaska. For the first time in the voyage, we awoke to misty skies and low-hanging clouds. Moisture hung in the air, a welcome relief from the sunny skies, not just for us but even more so for the mosses and ferns. Add to this a wonderful low tide, and we had the makings of a fantastic adventure. Taking the time to look closely at a place can reveal unrecognized treasures. On our hands and knees, we explored the shoreline boulders and kelps of Georges Island. We poked anemones, cradled hermit crabs, lifted limpets from their rock ledges, and swept snails close to our faces for inspection. Winner of “Species of the Day” in the intertidal had to be a tie between the large sunflower star with its army of arms lined with hundreds of tube feet and the anemones with pink-tipped tentacles hesitatingly protruding from rock cracks. Some of the anemones we saw were very motherly, with small babies lining the edges of their body column skirts. Other anemones clone themselves by splitting in half or by dropping off pieces of their pedal disk, so that they literally have a line of smaller anemones trailing behind them.
After lunch, we entered the small town of Elfin Cove. The economy here is based on fishing and hunting lodges, but this is a much smaller town than Petersburg: several hundred people in the summer but fewer than twenty residents during the winter. Someone on the ship has wonderful weather karma. Coming back from our hikes it started to rain, but when we went to Elfin Cove, the sun came out, and boarding the boat again it started to pour rain, then, as we cruised the Inian Islands looking for wildlife, it was mostly sunny on deck. Nothing better than watching Steller sea lions thrash salmon, gulls hungrily gulping down pink scraps of floating flesh with a light mist surrounding you.
Suddenly, out of the mist like black submarines with their periscopes raised, a large pod of killer whales emerged. Regardless of the now-steady rain, we poured onto deck to view what we had been waiting for. This was an immense group of animals: over twenty indidividuals strong, with a calf so young that its patches were yellow, and a number of large males, their straight pointed dorsal fins towering above sleek black bodies. At a full stop, we gasped as the whales swam right past the ship. If the windows in the lounge could be opened, the passengers watching from there would have been able to pet the passing backs. Well, maybe there is something better than watching Steller sea lions eating salmon, but to be able to watch both that and the killer whales. . . it doesn’t get more magical.
