Fall in Southeast Alaska is upon us. From first light to last, this temperate rainforest kept our rain gear dripping, but spirits high. With a southern wind blowing through Stephen’s Passage, our landing at the northern tip of Admiralty Island was free from excessive wind chop and waves. With help from local contacts, we were able to land at Point Retreat to tour the lighthouse and nearby forest on the island deemed the Fortress of the Brown Bear. Many of the staff had never visited this site and were excited to meet the local lighthouse keeper Dave and learn of its history.

While guests were negotiating which friendly island dog to pet first, Second Mate Carter, Chef Michelle, and I went for a dive at a new dive spot. Working with some helpful hints from Auke Bay locals, Flip and Linda Nicklin, we decided upon a precipitous drop-off not far from the lighthouse. Following a dramatic rock wall to 100 feet, we could see the abyss continue below to unimaginable depths. What lies past the reach of our insignificant lights? We explored along the rocky slope looking for the denizen known as the devilfish. Finning along we were distracted by a curious behavior I’ve never seen before nor read about: hiding beneath the stinging tentacles of a crimson anemone was a crested sculpin. Could this be a newly observed behavior? We finally reached a pile of rocks and (literally) ran into our quarry, a very large giant Pacific octopus. The octo was standing tall, which usually means it’s feeding, it was so camouflaged I didn’t spot it until the last possible second. After enveloping the video camera and then replaying the footage, we could clearly see a crab had indeed met its reaper. We stayed with the octopus for several minutes and it became very interactive, inspecting my dive gear, and wrapping one arm after another around my bare hand. The feeling of curious suckers on my skin will stick with me forever. Begrudgingly we left the octopus, feeling like a connection was made, one intelligent creature communing with another. The devilfish we encountered today didn’t have a single drop of malice and only showed a gentle curiosity.

Our visit to Juneau later in the day brought us close to Mendenhall Glacier and to the collection at the Alaska State Museum. Some were lucky enough to spot a sleepy porcupine or a black bear replete with orange-vested crossing guards. Sockeye salmon were still in Steep Creek, their bodies ravaged by a quest to reproduce. Their story is one of planned obsolescence which demands respect, not sympathy.