Frederick Sound
What a wonderful way to start an expedition - a breaching humpback whale greeted us before breakfast this morning! Crossing an enshrouded Frederick Sound that was painted with many shades of gray, we could not miss the splash that followed after the whale launched its massive body out of the water and crashed back down onto the surface. The full body breaches allowed us to see the long, narrow pectoral flippers that characterize this species.
After breakfast we found ourselves cruising into Eliza Harbor at the southern end of Admiralty Island. The tide was low. Our binoculars were glued to our eyes as we all scanned the exposed beaches searching for brown (grizzly) bears that might be looking for some tasty invertebrate treats in the intertidal zone or salmon in a nearby stream. The native Tlingit people refer to this island as "Kootznahoo", which translates as "Bear Fort", as it supports one of the highest densities of brown bears anywhere in the world. We were lucky to be rewarded with the sighting of six bears as we slowly explored this inlet.
Later in the morning, Stanford lecturer, Dr. Scott Burns, gave a presentation entitled "Living on Alaska's Rivers of Ice". Thirty years ago, Scott spent time studying glaciers around the vast icefield above Juneau. He talked about glacial structure, erosion, transportation and deposition and how glaciers sculpt the landscape. He also talked about climatic change and some of the dramatic transformations that are occurring even today in Alaska.
Right on cue, humpback whales appeared after the presentation. We were in the vicinity of the Brothers Islands, at the junction between Frederick Sound and Stephens Passage. Scattered individuals were feeding in this area, most likely on krill. There were some distant breaches and a closer whale that would periodically wave its pectoral fin in the air. We were practically surrounded by these animals and we watched until we had to depart for our afternoon destination.
Port Houghton, a deep fjord on the mainland of Southeast Alaska, was our afternoon destination. We had been on the ship all morning, so it was no surprise to find almost all of our Stanford group eager to board the Zodiacs for a short ride to the beach and a long and challenging venture through the forest. Bears had been here before us. Their footpaths and spoor were obvious. Short traverses were interrupted by informative sessions of interpretation of the interrelationships between the living and non-living elements of this mysterious area. An easy walk into the sparse understory soon became a wet and unsteady trek through tall Alaskan blueberry bushes, well-armed Devil's club, spongy beds of sphagnum moss and downed trees. It was heartening to see the orchid known as rattlesnake-plantain emerging from the cushiony ground cover. Southeast Alaska has a fair number of orchid species but most are small and not showy like many colorful tropical orchids.
The hardy hikers were seeking a route to a salmon stream, reported to be only a few hundred yards away. Necessary diversions into a developing bog habitat gave some of us an understanding of the significance of the 100 or more inches of precipitation that fall here annually, and by now, some of that rain was coming down pretty hard.
With perseverance, high spirits and group determination, we reached that stream. A few pink salmon could be seen skulking in its brown, tanin-rich waters; the stream obviously drained the large bog meadow that we had found. Signs of bears were everywhere along the stream. The tail section was all that remained of a salmon that had not been fast enough to elude a bear. Other forest- and stream-dwelling vertebrates and invertebrates would soon consume the remaining rich tissue.
Zodiac trips were also offered around the scenic bay and a short way up into one of the salmon streams. Hundreds of pink (humpback) salmon were amassed at the mouths of streams and moving up in preparation for spawning. They are at the end of their amazing lifecycle. The nutrients that they have brought back from the ocean will be distributed in the forest ecosystem and nourish other generations of plants and animals. Lion's mane jellyfish, carried in by the current and tide, pulsated alongside the Zodiacs, not far from shore. Common at this time of the year, their bright orange or purplish color is a warning sign not to come too close to the stinging tentacles.
We were thoroughly wet, wide-eyed and pleased with ourselves by the time we returned to our ship. Our first excursion into the wilds of Southeast Alaska had been an experience we would not forget.
What a wonderful way to start an expedition - a breaching humpback whale greeted us before breakfast this morning! Crossing an enshrouded Frederick Sound that was painted with many shades of gray, we could not miss the splash that followed after the whale launched its massive body out of the water and crashed back down onto the surface. The full body breaches allowed us to see the long, narrow pectoral flippers that characterize this species.
After breakfast we found ourselves cruising into Eliza Harbor at the southern end of Admiralty Island. The tide was low. Our binoculars were glued to our eyes as we all scanned the exposed beaches searching for brown (grizzly) bears that might be looking for some tasty invertebrate treats in the intertidal zone or salmon in a nearby stream. The native Tlingit people refer to this island as "Kootznahoo", which translates as "Bear Fort", as it supports one of the highest densities of brown bears anywhere in the world. We were lucky to be rewarded with the sighting of six bears as we slowly explored this inlet.
Later in the morning, Stanford lecturer, Dr. Scott Burns, gave a presentation entitled "Living on Alaska's Rivers of Ice". Thirty years ago, Scott spent time studying glaciers around the vast icefield above Juneau. He talked about glacial structure, erosion, transportation and deposition and how glaciers sculpt the landscape. He also talked about climatic change and some of the dramatic transformations that are occurring even today in Alaska.
Right on cue, humpback whales appeared after the presentation. We were in the vicinity of the Brothers Islands, at the junction between Frederick Sound and Stephens Passage. Scattered individuals were feeding in this area, most likely on krill. There were some distant breaches and a closer whale that would periodically wave its pectoral fin in the air. We were practically surrounded by these animals and we watched until we had to depart for our afternoon destination.
Port Houghton, a deep fjord on the mainland of Southeast Alaska, was our afternoon destination. We had been on the ship all morning, so it was no surprise to find almost all of our Stanford group eager to board the Zodiacs for a short ride to the beach and a long and challenging venture through the forest. Bears had been here before us. Their footpaths and spoor were obvious. Short traverses were interrupted by informative sessions of interpretation of the interrelationships between the living and non-living elements of this mysterious area. An easy walk into the sparse understory soon became a wet and unsteady trek through tall Alaskan blueberry bushes, well-armed Devil's club, spongy beds of sphagnum moss and downed trees. It was heartening to see the orchid known as rattlesnake-plantain emerging from the cushiony ground cover. Southeast Alaska has a fair number of orchid species but most are small and not showy like many colorful tropical orchids.
The hardy hikers were seeking a route to a salmon stream, reported to be only a few hundred yards away. Necessary diversions into a developing bog habitat gave some of us an understanding of the significance of the 100 or more inches of precipitation that fall here annually, and by now, some of that rain was coming down pretty hard.
With perseverance, high spirits and group determination, we reached that stream. A few pink salmon could be seen skulking in its brown, tanin-rich waters; the stream obviously drained the large bog meadow that we had found. Signs of bears were everywhere along the stream. The tail section was all that remained of a salmon that had not been fast enough to elude a bear. Other forest- and stream-dwelling vertebrates and invertebrates would soon consume the remaining rich tissue.
Zodiac trips were also offered around the scenic bay and a short way up into one of the salmon streams. Hundreds of pink (humpback) salmon were amassed at the mouths of streams and moving up in preparation for spawning. They are at the end of their amazing lifecycle. The nutrients that they have brought back from the ocean will be distributed in the forest ecosystem and nourish other generations of plants and animals. Lion's mane jellyfish, carried in by the current and tide, pulsated alongside the Zodiacs, not far from shore. Common at this time of the year, their bright orange or purplish color is a warning sign not to come too close to the stinging tentacles.
We were thoroughly wet, wide-eyed and pleased with ourselves by the time we returned to our ship. Our first excursion into the wilds of Southeast Alaska had been an experience we would not forget.
