I have decided for personal reason to begin to chronicle some of my past trips.This trip took place in 1988. In 1879 explorer John Muir traveled to Alaska to study Glaciers. In the village of Wrangel he met a Presbyterian Missionary by the name of S. Hall Young, who told him of a place to the north the Tlingit called "the land of ice castles." He also told Muir of a legend told by the Tlingit of how ages ago they were driven from their home by walls of moving ice and that now the ice was retreating, allowing them to return home. Intrigued by these stories, John Muir and Rev. Young, along with several Tlingits, including their guide, Sitka Charlie, boarded a war canoe and traveled north to find this land of ice castles. What they found was Glacier Bay. Several years ago a friend and I ventured forth on our own voyage of discovery and paddled into Glacier Bay. Our trip started in Tenekee, Alaska, a tiny village known for its^Ò natural hot springs and abundant wildlife, including the brown bears and blacktail deer of the land, and the whales and seals of the sea. We didn^Òt have to wait long to see our first whales. As we were loading gear into our boats, we heard a "whoosh" and looked up to see a couple of humpback whales cruise by the beach. It was a good omen. Within in minutes of being on the water we saw our first seal, or I should say the seal saw us. I was scanning the horizon when I found myself staring into deep dark eyes. It was a harbor seal. I am not sure how long he had been watching us, but from that point on seals were our constant companions. They are curious and like to follow kayaks. It seemed like everytime we turned around to look behind we would see a big splash of a seal. Later, when we stopped for lunch on a gravel beach, we watched as a dozen or more seals floated by with the tide. We headed up Tenekee Inlet to a portage that was once a well-kept secret among the Tlingit. The portage is about 50 feet long, over a small spit of land separating Tenekee Inlet from the waters of Port Fredrick. The Tlingit used this portage as an escape route from the Russian trading ships. The Russians, with their faster but bulkier sailing ships, would chase the Tlingit canoes up the inlet hoping to capture them and force them to hunt sea otters. The Tlingits, however, would land their canoes and portage it across the land before the Russians could figure out what happened. Louis L^ÒAmour chronicled this portage in his novel Sitka. We camped at the portage that night. The next morning we began to portage our own gear. We discovered on the other side lay a muskeg (swamp), which led to a small winding stream, which emptied into the waters of Port Fredrick. We also discovered our first brown bear! We were meandering our way through the stream. It was so shallow that often we had to drag the boats across sand bars. While looking ahead to see when the creek would get deeper, I noticed a big brown rock beside the stream. Then it moved! Yikes -- this was a big bear! Joe had seen it about the same time that I had, so we quietly began to discuss what to do. The bear was beside the stream, which meant we had to go right past it. We carried no guns, since thankfully they are not allowed in Glacier Bay. This was before bear spray was readily available. We both found trees we could climb if necessary, then did what the Tlingits had long done when encountering a bear. We talked to it. The idea is if you let the bear know you are there, he will seek to avoid you. It worked -- except the bear ambled off into the woods closest to the stream! Without much choice we paddled by talking noisily and hoping the bear would stay in the woods. Thankfully, it did. Once in the waters of Port Fredrick, we began to encounter groups of humpback whales and the occasional minke. One group of about six humpbacks we first saw about a mile away. However each time they surfaced they were coming straight at us and getting closer fast! I have never heard of a Humpback attacking a kayak, but then I doubt anyone would live to tell the story. Whoosh! About 100 yards in front of us they surfaced, still heading dead on toward us. I pictured any second seeing the sky eclipsed by the tail of a whale swatting me like a fly. Thankfully, they next surfaced some 50 yards behind us and kept on going. We breathed a sigh of relief. Then it began to rain hard. Looking straight ahead, the rain stung my face. I put my head down to avoid the rain, only to have the rain bounce off my neoprene spray skit and keep my face just as wet! We camped that night in the high wet grass just above the high tide mark. As I lay wet and shivering in my sleeping bag, I thought of the icy glaciers ahead and wondered what the hell I was getting myself into. We passed by the village of Hoonah and headed toward Pt. Aldoufus and the dangerous waters of Icy Strait. Seven miles wide, kicking with tidal currents and wind, this could prove to be one of the most dangerous points of the trip. We camped for the night watching the ebb and flood of the tides. Tomorrow would be the day of truth. We launched under cloudy skies the next morning. The wind was brisk out of the west. Some fishermen warned us to watch the skies closely when the wind came out of the west, especially on an ebb tide. As we left the protected waters of our camp, a gang of five sea lions joined us, burping and belching as they swam behind us. They followed us for a mile or so, then suddenly turned for shore. Not a good sign. When we were about half way across, I looked to the west and saw that the horizon had turned black! I yelled at Joe and said "we better get moving." We picked up the pace, but the storm overtook us. The wind whipped up the waves, as it battled against the ebb tide for supremacy. Our frail boats were caught in the midst of this age-old cosmic battle. We leaned hard into the side wind to keep it from blowing us over. Each paddle stroke was a battle for a few precious feet closer to shore. As we neared the shore a coast guard buoy rocked in the storm. Fitted with a bell to alert passing ships of a shoal the bell boomed out its warming. Bits of Hemingway^Òs words came to mind, "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee" Finally, wet and exhausted, we reach the shore of Pleasant Island and managed a somewhat unpleasant landing in a cross surf. We looked back over the storm-tossed Icy Strait and reflected on what we had done. Seakayaking provides (as does mountain climbing) those moments when we look back at the struggle of what it took to get here, and to both revel in what we have done and yet be humble in the face of the forces of nature that allowed us to pass. It was this humbleness that dictated our next decision. Pt. Gustavus, the entrance to Glacier Bay lay ahead. The tide was a full ebb and the storm was gathering strength. The tidal water of Glacier Bay and Icy Strait collided like two titans. The Titans^Ò wrath stretched far out in the strait. Our only choice was to paddle to the town of Gustavus and yell "Taxi!" That^Òs right, we hitched a ride on the only taxi cab in the town and headed over to park headquarters. After all, discretion is the better part of valor. At park headquarters the rangers let us know of some beaches that were off limits due to black bear problems, so we sat down with our maps to reconsider our route. The storm cleared the next day so we headed to the West Arm. The first day out we cruised 14 miles with no difficulty. The next day however the weather would not be so kind. A big storm had moved in and we faced a hard wind. All day long we crawled into the wind, each paddle stroke a labor to gain a few feet. At the end of 5 hours we had only made 8 miles. We were both tired and cold, so we decided to land and try to find a camping spot. We pulled up to a cliff and found a crack in the rock to use as a wind break. As I sat down at the base of the cliff, I heard a low croak. I looked up to see a raven peering at me over the edge of her nest. She squawked a lot at first, then slowly realized that this tired, wet excuse for a human was no threat. She settled back into her nest, occasionally taking a peek to make sure I was minding my own business. The next morning was foggy and overcast, but, thank God, the fierce wind was down to a whisper. We paddled north to Blue Mouse Cove through Hugh Miller Inlet and into Scidmore bay. The skies were lifting and we saw our first glaciers. Hugh Miller and Scidmore glaciers are alpine glaciers, clinging to the mountains but never reaching the sea. Born in the snows of the Brady Icefield, the tops of these glaciers blended into the overcast sky revealing only craggy the lower face. Streams poured out from the base and tumbled down the rock face eventually to meet the sea below. As we approached camp, a baby seal appeared beside our boat. We guessed it to be orphaned, since we never saw the mother. As we camped it swam back and forth in front of the campsite, crying out for its^Ò mother. Nature is sometimes harsh, but we had no choice but to let it play out its^Ò course. The next morning the seal was gone. Neither Joe or I spoke of it again. The skies were beginning to clear and we rejoiced for we had endured 7 straight days where the rain had won out over the sun. After making the turn around Ibach Point all the days of wind and rain suddenly became worth it, for before us lay Reid Glacier! It was our first tidewater glacier. Like a wall of impenetrable ice, the half-mile wide Reid Glacier rose out of the sea. Large icebergs abounded in the bay and a spit of land jutted out in front of the glacier. We discovered this spit of land was far enough away from the glacier for safe camping. This turned out to be a wonderful choice. As the tide retreated several of the icebergs ^Ñgrounded^Ò onto the beach making them safe to approach. These bergs were of fairly clean ice which allowed a chance to see their inner structure. Like globes of ice pressed together, the ^Ñbergs reflected light in various distortions. Joe, an amateur photographer, spent many joyful hours composing pictures. The next day brought sunny skies and more glaciers. The Lampugh Glacier treated us to a ferocious display of calving ice. The calving revealed the deep blue ice characteristic of many of the glaciers of Glacier Bay. The ice has had much of the air compressed out of it, so it absorbs more of the light. The shade ranges from a light blue to a very dark navy blue. We awoke to a rare treat, clear sunny skies! The first of the trip. This was heaven; sunshine in Glacier Bay! We had chosen the West Arm of Glacier Bay, because of the reputation of spectacular scenery in John Hopkins Inlet. About ten miles long the inlet has several alpine glaciers and ends in the ice wall of John Hopkins Glacier. We were not disappointed. This truly was the land of ice castles! We paddled through a maze of ice from the size of a baseball to the size of a house. Most fascinating were the small ice chunks which were sculptured by the wind, and waves. A wondrous variety of shapes and sizes greeted us. To add to the excitement the big ^Ñbergs were rolling. House-sized ice bergs, seemingly stable, would sudden roll over. We stayed well clear of these death traps. Our trip was in late May, the time of year when seals have just given birth to their pups. The ice flows contained dozens of seals and their pups. The seals would haul out on the ice to feed their pups and to give the pups a rest from the cold waters. Somehow they seemed to know when a berg was about to roll and left well in time. We tried our best to steer clear, so as not to separate mother from child. Unfortunately the large tourist ships didn^Òt seem to give a damn; they plowed through the ice, sending seals scattering. It was a frustrating and disturbing sight. The inlet was also noisy. A colony of Kittywakes constantly screeched and squawked, plus the glaciers themselves were roaring. The Johns Hopkins glacier was actively calving, dropping massive chunks of ice into the water. The resulting wave caused a great chattering amid all the floating ice. We were careful to watch the tide as we paddled in. We paddled in with the outgoing tide which spread the ice out. The flood tide would pack the ice in trapping us. We chose a campsite knowing we could only leave on the out going tide. The high tides had removed the snows of winter from the beach, leaving a three foot wall of snow that our tents and boats had to be lifted on to. The high tides and the waves from the calving glacier made camping on the beach too risky. Next we paddled over to Tarr Inlet. This was a sight to behold. Two of the largest glaciers of the trip, the Marjorie Glacier and the Grand Pacific Glacier are separated by a small outcropping of rock. The effect is a feeling of being overwhelmed by glaciers. The contract is also striking. The Marjorie Glacier is predominately white while the Grand Pacific Glacier is mostly black from all the rock it is grinding up. We found a camping spot which afforded a spectacular view of these magnificent glaciers. Unfortunately, sometime after we left, another group of campers was sloppy with their camp and a bear raided it. The park rangers had to close this beach off to camping as a result. This was a hard camp site to leave, but it was time to head back to park headquarters and home. As we paddled down the bay, we noted how the shrubs of the upper bay gradually turned into bigger and bigger trees. Up next to the glaciers life was just beginning to take hold but here further "down glacier" these trees had gained a firmer foot-hold and were beginning to mature. Before we left Glacier Bay had one more surprise. We had camped for the night on a gravel bar and were fixing breakfast the next morning. We had stayed bear cautious the whole time, however ,this was one moment, our guard was down. We had chosen this moment to do a quick inventory of what food we had left. We emptied the food bags on to a log. Just as all the food was all out, I looked up to see a young brown bear emerge from the brush about 50 feet away. Rather than spend two days without rations, we chose to defend our food. We yelled and banged pots together. The bear stared at first, then slowly walked into the brush. In a flash we repacked the food, got into the boats and paddled away. We never saw the bear again, but felt certain he was watching us. We headed for Sandy Cove on the east side of Glacier Bay. As we rolled south, the brush begin to blend into a forest of real trees, eventually evolving into a mature spruce and hemlock forest. As we approached Sandy Cove we were greeted by humpback whales. Summer residents of the bay, these leviathasn spend up to 18 hours a day feeding. Come late fall they will travel south to the Sitka area for one last feed then cruise to Hawaii for the winter to give birth to their calves. We dined on shore as the whales dined at sea. Our journey was close to its end when Glacier Bay offered up one last treat. We paddled to a group of off-shore islands called the Marble Islands. As we approached we saw mass movement on the rocks ahead. Sea lions! In fact rather curious Sea Lions. Too curious! We quickly found ourselves surrounded. Out numbered, out weighted and out maneuvered we were at their mercy. One young bull surfaced beside me and grunted. Yuck, his breath was horrible! "Chuuk!" I yelled (Chuuk is Tlingit for "get outta here^Ò. When yelled with a Klingon accent it works on both bears and sea lions.) It worked! The sea lions retreated, satisfied to just follow us for a while. With our nerves still a little jittery, we paddled onward. Suddenly a bird flew right over my bow. "Puffins," my friend cried out! It seems the Marble Islands have a population of horned puffins. They flew circles around us and the island. This appeared to be their ritual, to circle many times before landing. Once on land they scurried down into their burrows to feed their young. Being a ground burrow nester, the puffins seek islands that land predators, such as fox, cannot reach. Alas, it was time to go. We headed back to park headquarters and eventually back home and back to work. Yet the memories will linger of whales, winds and glaciers in "the land of the ice castles," Glacier Bay. *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************Received on Fri Aug 23 2002 - 06:15:38 PDT
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