Tracy Arm & Williams Cove, Southeast Alaska
In Alaska, there is no easing into spring. Here, the season of bloom and birth is compressed into a month or so. One week, a seaside meadow is green, the next it is yellow with buttercups and stippled with the dark bells of chocolate lilies. One week, the ice-filled waters in front of the tidewater glaciers have only a few sleek harbor seal heads, the next, hundreds of mothers are hauled out on ice floes with just-born pups.
Today, we had a chance to experience both of these significant events in a Southeast Alaska spring. This morning we woke deep in the reach of Tracy Arm and nudged our way between floating bits of ice to Sawyer Glacier. A mountain goat nanny and her two kids (the winter must have been good indeed for her to support two rambunctious young) deliberated on the edge of a waterfall, trying to figure out how to get the trio across. Arctic terns winged over the scoured rock. The wilderness rangers we had taken aboard in the early hours, Kevin and Liz, shared their stories of living on the edge of this fjord. For now, their life is about counting seals. We listened with them to pups mewl for the rich milk that doubles their weight in the month until they are weaned.
Williams Cove was the site of our first on-shore explorations. We stepped into the cool, moist forest where trailing raspberry and shy maidens bloomed. The meadows at the cove’s edge glinted with the blossoms of nagoonberry, false lily-of-the valley, and the rich downcast brown/bronze chocolate lilies. Kayakers paddled around grounded bergs and across to a waterfall. We thought the day had been full enough, but just when the naturalists were about to begin their evening recap, a humpback was spotted. Of course we took the time to stop and go up on deck—and were rewarded by the view of a full-on breach, the whale throwing its body entirely out of the water. It’s not only the seasons here that arrive with a dramatic splash. Let the week begin.
In Alaska, there is no easing into spring. Here, the season of bloom and birth is compressed into a month or so. One week, a seaside meadow is green, the next it is yellow with buttercups and stippled with the dark bells of chocolate lilies. One week, the ice-filled waters in front of the tidewater glaciers have only a few sleek harbor seal heads, the next, hundreds of mothers are hauled out on ice floes with just-born pups.
Today, we had a chance to experience both of these significant events in a Southeast Alaska spring. This morning we woke deep in the reach of Tracy Arm and nudged our way between floating bits of ice to Sawyer Glacier. A mountain goat nanny and her two kids (the winter must have been good indeed for her to support two rambunctious young) deliberated on the edge of a waterfall, trying to figure out how to get the trio across. Arctic terns winged over the scoured rock. The wilderness rangers we had taken aboard in the early hours, Kevin and Liz, shared their stories of living on the edge of this fjord. For now, their life is about counting seals. We listened with them to pups mewl for the rich milk that doubles their weight in the month until they are weaned.
Williams Cove was the site of our first on-shore explorations. We stepped into the cool, moist forest where trailing raspberry and shy maidens bloomed. The meadows at the cove’s edge glinted with the blossoms of nagoonberry, false lily-of-the valley, and the rich downcast brown/bronze chocolate lilies. Kayakers paddled around grounded bergs and across to a waterfall. We thought the day had been full enough, but just when the naturalists were about to begin their evening recap, a humpback was spotted. Of course we took the time to stop and go up on deck—and were rewarded by the view of a full-on breach, the whale throwing its body entirely out of the water. It’s not only the seasons here that arrive with a dramatic splash. Let the week begin.
