PRINCE WILLIAM SOUND, ALASKA Following my trip to Resurrection Bay, I drove up the Whittier to do a five day trip into Blackstone Bay in Prince William Sound. I am taking my 13 year old son and his scout troop there in August, so I wanted to "scout out" the route before hand. Getting to Whittier is an experience in itself. One has to drive through a couple miles railroad tunnel in order to get "through" the mountains. No worry about trains though, they stop all cars before allowing the train through. Still I occasionally have nightmares of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel coming at me! Whittier, with it’s back to a high mountain pass, is almost always windy. In fact the weather forecasters give a special forecast just for Whittier and Passage Canal that includes the barometric pressure difference between both sides of the pass. Passage canal is 12 miles long , two miles wide and leads into the open waters of PWS. Though I had often explored Passage Canal this would only be my second trip beyond it and the first trip was back in the early 90’s. As I put in the wind was fierce to my back (yeah!) This was going to be great. I had only planned to go about 8 miles and I could let the wind do the work! Then about a half mile out the wind died down for a moment, gently touched my left cheek, and then womp! It hit me dead on in the face! So for the rest of the day it was straight into the wind. Cat’s paw after cat’s paw danced upon the water signaling another gust. I swear I heard the wind laughing. So I moved in close to the rocky shore and bounced from wind block to wind block. Along the way several waterfalls plunged into the water. Created from the melting snow pack, many of these falls have but a life span of only the spring and summer. Come fall the snows will return and they will go into an icy hibernation. As I approached the end of Passage Canal I had to paddle round a point called Decision Point. (There are a couple of places called Decision Point in Alaska, reminding the Mariner to make a careful decision before continuing.) The winds of the day had made the seas quite "lumpy" and the state ferry had just passed adding it’s wake to the mix. It was fun! I was weary as I paddled into a small cove called Decision Point State Marine Park, one of several designated points in PWS where the State of Alaska maintains some tent platforms and an outhouse. The outhouse I admitted was a rare treat. Usually I wander down to the beach and dig a hole but here I could comfortably sit like a king upon his throne and enjoy the Sears & Roebuck catalogue. Two couples paddled in later in the day, also bone weary from the wind. We sat after dinner and talked of being upon the sea. In a funny way this was an unusual experience for me. I usually travel solo, sometimes going two weeks without human conversation. So to be sitting at a campsite talking with someone was different. At one point one of the women mentioned that the last time she was in Blackstone Bay a boat dropped of two jet skiers and she lamented how annoying they were buzzing around the quiet bay. We also related stories of noisy snow machines zooming past us while cross country skiing. Together we came to the conclusion that there are two types of people in the wilderness; those who seek to conquer it with their machines and those who seek to become one with it through their paddle, skis or feet. Alas for those of us who seek the silence and the solitude to becoming one with creation, those who rev up the machines to conquer too often destroy the very thing we seek. Peace. Late that evening we noticed another group coming in. It was obvious that some in the group wanted to pull in to the calm bay but their leader ignored them and paddled on. Then they rounded the point and landed on the beach behind us. This beach was a dump beach that offered little protection from the weather. When they walked into our camp spot looking for a tent sight we noticed the leader was wearing shorts and a cotton T-shirt. It was sad to see a leader who was not personally prepared, and was not making good decisions. The next day the winds had died down so I took off for Blackstone Bay. First I paddled to Tebenkof Glacier. This Glacier has long since retreated, leaving a moraine and a tidal marsh. Many dead trees stood in the tidal marsh. It was an indication of the earthquake of ‘64, which dropped much of the land in PWS down a couple of feet, allowing the salt water to infiltrate into the soil and kill the trees. Dead now decades later, some of these ghostly trees still stand as a reminder of the ever changing earth. Entering Blackstone Bay I began to see more and more waterfalls. These must be enjoyed at a distance as the occasional big chunk of ice breaks off and crashes into the sea. I don’t remember the exact details but a sea kayaker was killed by falling ice in Blackstone Bay several years ago while trying to fill his canteen from one of these falls. Also I began to see more and more glaciers. At first I saw hanging glaciers high upon the mountain side. I began to wonder at what point by definition does a pile of snow become a glacier? Then I began to laugh at myself. Glaciers do not abide by our definition, only the ways of snow and ice. After a while I began to see what I came here for, the tide-water glaciers. In the distance I could see the Beloit and Blackstone Glaciers. It would be tomorrow before I saw them up close but for now the view was splendid. I camped on a jut of land near the Ripon Glacier. The locals call this 18 mile beach, referring to it’s distance from Whittier. Tonight would be one of the highest tides of the year so I walked up the highest spot looking to find a flat spot for my tent. All at once I heard a shriek and looked up to see an arctic tern flying right at my head. I ducked and retreated realizing that I must be approaching their nesting sight. I chose a lower spot further down, hoping it would be high enough for the nights big tide. It barely was! I had paddled in with the rising tide, arriving about the time the tide turned. This worked out great as I was treated for the next several hours to a wonderful parade of ice from the calving glaciers flowing by the camp. All shapes and sized rolled by in a rumbling and growling sea of white. The next day was the day I had been looking forward to since I first dreamed of this trip on a cold winters night in December. On to the Glaciers! As children we looked at clouds and saw dragons, castles and the faces of giants. Now as adults we see clouds as only the bearers of rain. As I paddled amid the "bitty bergs" ( a nickname a friend of mine came up with several years ago to describe the wondrously wind and wave sculptured bits of glacier ice flowing with the tide), I found my childhood imagination returning. I paddled amidst dragons and strange creatures of the deep sea. Strange castles from another time rose up out of the sea. I even saw a few sea- kayakers; yes wind and wave shaped ice that resembled you and I upon the sea in our long narrow boats. I listened to the ice as it bumped and ground in the flow. Also there was a popping sound as the air trapped for thousands of years was set free. The ocean literally sizzled about me. I truly was in another time and another place -- physically, mentally and spiritually. I paddled toward Beloit Glacier. The tide was ebbing, so it allowed me to paddle to about a quarter mile from the face. The rule of thumb is not to paddle up to a glacier when the tide is rising, otherwise the ice flow will trap you in. Likewise since this glacier was actively calving, so I dared not get too close to the face. Anyway a quarter mile back offered a splendid view. I sat in front of this glacier for probably an hour. Occasionally the glacier would calve a huge chunk of ice into the water. Then for several seconds afterwards a cascade of ice would "waterfall" down the glacier and into the water. As the wave from the calving reached me the "bitty bergs" would collide and start chattering as if too announce the coming wave. >From the Beloit I moved to the Blackstone Glacier. Navigation at this point was intriguing as I maneuvered amid the ice trying to find the least clogged passage. I had a lot of fun with the tight turns and scouting for leads. By the way, glacier ice is quite a bit more denser than your refrigerator ice, so hitting even a small piece of ice can be a jarring experience. Also as many of you know, you have to steer well clear of ice bergs. They have a tendency to roll unannounced and could crush a kayaker without mercy. Unlike the waters of Glacier Bay, the glaciers here are cleaner, less rock grinding, so the water was surprisingly clear. To the west of the Blackstone Glacier was the Northland Glacier. This hanging glacier was even more active than the tidewater glaciers. I would hear a roar and look up to see a cascading waterfall of ice slide off the glacier , down the mountainside and explode into the sea. Quite impressive! After a while the tide started to flood, so I paddled out of the ice and headed towards the west side of Willard Island. This is "the bad lands" of Blackstone Bay. A combination of shoals and tide rips under the right wind conditions, plus little refuge makes this part of the Bay extremely dangerous at times. Thankfully today the winds were light. I will not be taking my son’s scout troop along this route. I spent the night camped on Willard Island. I awoke the next morning to a day of mist and rain, beautiful in it’s own way actually. It this country you learn to appreciate the beauty and uniqueness a misty rainy day provides. Otherwise the rain gets to you. I took my compass reading and headed for the West shore about a mile and a half away. Wow what waterfalls! The west shore has higher cliffs so the plunge, splash and sound of these falls was the most impressive of the trip. Due to the mist I often could not see the top of the falls which only added to the mystic experience of the beauty. To add to the wonders of the day I found a sea arch to paddle through. It was short but sweet. I had originally planned to camp at another state maintained camp site called. Squirrel point. However the landing and launching beach was exposed to an East winds which could prove nasty in a hard blow. Plus beach offered no tent sites and the tent platforms were far up the hill. So I returned to Decision Point and camped there once again. I spent the rest of the evening watching the water taxis returns from far bays loaded down with sea-kayaks. Many people use these water taxi services to be able to explore bays that otherwise would take several days to reach and involve long open crossings. Now these weekend warriors were heading home. The next morning, to my surprise, the winds were calm for Passage Canal. My paddle in was admittedly slow. I was not quite ready to rejoin the world. I poked around in a few little bays and gazed at the scenery. Eventually I picked up the pace. At home I knew my son would be waiting for us to go see the new Star Wars movie. So from the waters of Prince William Sound, it was on to a galaxy long ago and far, far away. Bob already contemplating next year’s trip *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). 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