Chatham Strait & Baranof Island
Awaking to typical Tonga's weather this morning, we donned our foulies and headed to the bow. It was well worth the effort, because we soon spotted a cluster of whale blows in the distance. We joked about the tall, columns of mist being Southeast Alaskan fireworks, on this Fourth of July.
It began as a group of four humpbacks, surfacing and diving together. One hundred and eighty tons of whale in a graceful water ballet. We watched for a while, then, thinking these whales had their own plans for the morning, we ducked below for some hot breakfast. A short 20 minutes later, we were called back to the bow. There was a brown bear on the beach, Steller sea lions hauled out on a red buoy and the group of humpbacks was now feeding. We watched as, one by one, five more whales joined the group, and they engaged in a feeding behavior peculiar to Southeast Alaskan humpbacks. Each dove, in its turn, lifting its tail fluke high and disappearing. About 3 to 6 minutes later, the entire group lunged far out of the water, mouths agape and throat pleats bulging. Incredible!
After a morning at sea, we dropped the hook after lunch, and headed to shore for some hiking and kayaking on Baranof Island. Hikers followed a trail along a salmon spawning stream, stopping to investigate bear tracks in the abundant mud, and wildflowers in full profusion. Queen’s cup lilies and spotted coralroot orchid dotted the forest floor, while red paintbrush, chocolate lilies and creeping buttercup colored the grassy meadows. Kayakers paddled into wind and waves as a brief front passed over us, to reach a placid tidal lagoon. Curious harbor seals surfaced nearby and eagles perched above, both waiting for the salmon they know will come.
Long hikers reached a grove of old-growth Sitka spruce trees and marveled at their girth. Being in the presence of such age prompted some to contemplate history. Were these giants young saplings when Jamestown was first colonized? Perhaps they were tiny seedlings before Columbus set sail? Imagine the stories they could tell. Stories of generations of bears and eagles, and millions of salmon returning to their birth stream to spawn, die and nourish the surrounding forest.
We returned to the beach for the ride back to the ship, a little wet and muddy, but with smiles all around. Each of us felt, in our own way, the importance of this rare and remarkable ecosystem, and looked forward to more exploration tomorrow.
Awaking to typical Tonga's weather this morning, we donned our foulies and headed to the bow. It was well worth the effort, because we soon spotted a cluster of whale blows in the distance. We joked about the tall, columns of mist being Southeast Alaskan fireworks, on this Fourth of July.
It began as a group of four humpbacks, surfacing and diving together. One hundred and eighty tons of whale in a graceful water ballet. We watched for a while, then, thinking these whales had their own plans for the morning, we ducked below for some hot breakfast. A short 20 minutes later, we were called back to the bow. There was a brown bear on the beach, Steller sea lions hauled out on a red buoy and the group of humpbacks was now feeding. We watched as, one by one, five more whales joined the group, and they engaged in a feeding behavior peculiar to Southeast Alaskan humpbacks. Each dove, in its turn, lifting its tail fluke high and disappearing. About 3 to 6 minutes later, the entire group lunged far out of the water, mouths agape and throat pleats bulging. Incredible!
After a morning at sea, we dropped the hook after lunch, and headed to shore for some hiking and kayaking on Baranof Island. Hikers followed a trail along a salmon spawning stream, stopping to investigate bear tracks in the abundant mud, and wildflowers in full profusion. Queen’s cup lilies and spotted coralroot orchid dotted the forest floor, while red paintbrush, chocolate lilies and creeping buttercup colored the grassy meadows. Kayakers paddled into wind and waves as a brief front passed over us, to reach a placid tidal lagoon. Curious harbor seals surfaced nearby and eagles perched above, both waiting for the salmon they know will come.
Long hikers reached a grove of old-growth Sitka spruce trees and marveled at their girth. Being in the presence of such age prompted some to contemplate history. Were these giants young saplings when Jamestown was first colonized? Perhaps they were tiny seedlings before Columbus set sail? Imagine the stories they could tell. Stories of generations of bears and eagles, and millions of salmon returning to their birth stream to spawn, die and nourish the surrounding forest.
We returned to the beach for the ride back to the ship, a little wet and muddy, but with smiles all around. Each of us felt, in our own way, the importance of this rare and remarkable ecosystem, and looked forward to more exploration tomorrow.
