Glacier Bay National Park
Fog enveloped us this morning in a wet-blanket world of shivers and mystery. We entered Glacier Bay National Park just before 6am, picked up “Ranger Mike” and ventured north into the icy wilderness of the west arm. Awakened by the lament of the foghorn, we peered out cabin windows to see the gray on gray that surrounded us and contemplated curling back up under the covers. The lure of Glacier Bay was too strong, though. Fortified with sweet cheese crepes and swaddled in foul weather gear, we staked our places on deck and watched the magic unfold.
Our greeting at South Marble Island was raucous to say the least. The morning coffee klatch was in full swing on the black-legged kittiwake cliff, while the gawky gray glaucous-winged gull chicks clamored for food. Tufted puffins buzzed the bow, nest-bound with beaks full of fish. Pelagic cormorants, common murres and black oystercatchers gave cameo appearances, and a small group of bachelor northern sea lions growled thickly through the mist. The tide was so low that a multitude of mottled sea stars was seen clinging to the rock just above the waterline. As the Sea Bird slowly pulled away from this creature-covered rock, we retreated below decks to warm up and dry off, and hear a bit about the park from our ranger.
A little later in the morning, we entered a slim inlet called Tidal, and dropped our voices to whispers. Eyes aided by binoculars scanned the gravel banks of the braided stream, the sandy beaches and the grassy knolls above – all searching for bears. Then Cheryl announced “I have a bear”. Calmly, gently, perhaps feeling more than seeing this slender sow with her cub. They were foraging in the intertidal zone on barnacles and blue mussels, and were so well camouflaged that it took a few moments for our eyes to discern their shapes. We watched silently while they fed, marveling at their strength and grace, before continuing on our journey “upbay”.
Our officers, staff and park ranger all agreed that today’s approach to Margerie glacier was the most dramatic we’d ever seen. The Sea Bird slipped through mirror calm water strewn with millions of small bits of glacial ice, never able to see more than 500 meters ahead. It was as if the Tlingit Fog Woman had wrapped her thick skirts around us, and was undecided about whether or not to grant us a glimpse of her glacier. On the bridge, the radar showed less than half a mile to the face of the glacier, but we still couldn’t see anything out on deck. Then slowly a massive wall of blue ice emerged from the shrouding mist, leaving us speechless on deck for the better part of an hour. We saw several dramatic calvings as the fog lifted and even the flanks of the mountains became visible, but the mystery of that first glimpse will remain smudged in our memories.
Dedicated to “Jim Peacock”
If you think our earth is fully formed and God has stayed her hand,
go to Glacier Bay!
If your soul is burdened by granite walls,
go to Glacier Bay!
If you never heard a glacier talk,
listen in Glacier Bay!
If you’ve never seen a cub and sow,
look in Glacier Bay!
If you wish to honor ideals of Joe and Muz,
camp in Glacier Bay.
If you want to know what Muir was fightin’ ‘bout
go to Glacier Bay!
If you want to swell with eagle’s pride,
go to Glacier Bay!
Poem by Jeffrey Hayes, National Geographic Expeditions Guest
Fog enveloped us this morning in a wet-blanket world of shivers and mystery. We entered Glacier Bay National Park just before 6am, picked up “Ranger Mike” and ventured north into the icy wilderness of the west arm. Awakened by the lament of the foghorn, we peered out cabin windows to see the gray on gray that surrounded us and contemplated curling back up under the covers. The lure of Glacier Bay was too strong, though. Fortified with sweet cheese crepes and swaddled in foul weather gear, we staked our places on deck and watched the magic unfold.
Our greeting at South Marble Island was raucous to say the least. The morning coffee klatch was in full swing on the black-legged kittiwake cliff, while the gawky gray glaucous-winged gull chicks clamored for food. Tufted puffins buzzed the bow, nest-bound with beaks full of fish. Pelagic cormorants, common murres and black oystercatchers gave cameo appearances, and a small group of bachelor northern sea lions growled thickly through the mist. The tide was so low that a multitude of mottled sea stars was seen clinging to the rock just above the waterline. As the Sea Bird slowly pulled away from this creature-covered rock, we retreated below decks to warm up and dry off, and hear a bit about the park from our ranger.
A little later in the morning, we entered a slim inlet called Tidal, and dropped our voices to whispers. Eyes aided by binoculars scanned the gravel banks of the braided stream, the sandy beaches and the grassy knolls above – all searching for bears. Then Cheryl announced “I have a bear”. Calmly, gently, perhaps feeling more than seeing this slender sow with her cub. They were foraging in the intertidal zone on barnacles and blue mussels, and were so well camouflaged that it took a few moments for our eyes to discern their shapes. We watched silently while they fed, marveling at their strength and grace, before continuing on our journey “upbay”.
Our officers, staff and park ranger all agreed that today’s approach to Margerie glacier was the most dramatic we’d ever seen. The Sea Bird slipped through mirror calm water strewn with millions of small bits of glacial ice, never able to see more than 500 meters ahead. It was as if the Tlingit Fog Woman had wrapped her thick skirts around us, and was undecided about whether or not to grant us a glimpse of her glacier. On the bridge, the radar showed less than half a mile to the face of the glacier, but we still couldn’t see anything out on deck. Then slowly a massive wall of blue ice emerged from the shrouding mist, leaving us speechless on deck for the better part of an hour. We saw several dramatic calvings as the fog lifted and even the flanks of the mountains became visible, but the mystery of that first glimpse will remain smudged in our memories.
Dedicated to “Jim Peacock”
If you think our earth is fully formed and God has stayed her hand,
go to Glacier Bay!
If your soul is burdened by granite walls,
go to Glacier Bay!
If you never heard a glacier talk,
listen in Glacier Bay!
If you’ve never seen a cub and sow,
look in Glacier Bay!
If you wish to honor ideals of Joe and Muz,
camp in Glacier Bay.
If you want to know what Muir was fightin’ ‘bout
go to Glacier Bay!
If you want to swell with eagle’s pride,
go to Glacier Bay!
Poem by Jeffrey Hayes, National Geographic Expeditions Guest
