Alaska Trip Diary 2016 Day 8: Glacier Bay
Here follows my account of the Glacier Bay cruise. This wasn't an "excursion," as we didn't leave the ship, rather a "scenic cruise" day. And scenic it was!
Day 1 (Saturday, May 28): Chicago O'Hell
Day 2 (Sunday, May 29): Vancouver, Better Late Than Never
Day 3 (Monday, May 30): Embarkation Day!
Day 4 (Tuesday, May 31): Sea Day
Day 5 (Wednesday, June 1): Ketchikan, Alaska
Day 6 (Thursday, June 2): Juneau, Alaska
Day 7 (Friday, June 3): Skagway, Alaska
Saturday, June 4, 2016: Glacier Bay
Had some trouble getting out of bed at 6 am today, so I must finally be adusting to the time zone - right before I go home, naturally. The ship was quiet, and we were in foggy open water, so I went to Moderno for a waffle, then up Deck 12 to claim a spot in the Observation Lounge. There was plenty of space and time to peruse the Park Rangers’ merchandise, and I bought another DVD.
We began the Rangers’ narration of Glacier Bay with a huge rocky island that was said to be home to mountain goats. Two adults, two kids were spotted.
Sadly, the goats were muchh too far away to capture on my camera.
Facing south toward the entrance of Glacier Bay (we were sailing north.)
Approaching Tarr Inlet.
Clouds moved fast and patches of sunlight lit up the hanging glaciers atop the peaks.
Once again, the mountains were threaded with waterfalls, and the telltale moraines of past glaciers. We passed the Reid Glacier first and left the worst of the rain and fog behind for patchy clouds and frigid wind that had me running back to my cabin for hat, scarf, and gloves, since I knew I’d be spending a lot of today outside.
The shoreline is home to bears, moose, and other land mammals, but sadly none appeared today.
Sunlight illuminating the Fairweather Mountains that enclose Glacier Bay.
Reid Glacier, in its small inlet on approach to the larger Tarr Inlet, which is home to two of Glacier Bay's main attractions.
The Lamplugh Glacier.
The moraine of a retreated glacier.
The eastern shore of Tarr Inlet.
This retreated glacier wasn't labeled on the map. It was on the east side of Tarr Inlet.
We entered Tarr Inlet on approach to the Grand Pacific and Margerie Glaciers.
Grand Pacific Glacier is in the center, Margerie Glacier on the left. The Grand Pacific is the biggest, but hard to make out because its face is covered by dark soil and debris from a landslide. Margerie, on the other hand, is classic, with a face made of spectacular crags, crevasses, and spires of blue and gray ice, banded with deep blue and slate gray layers. We seemed impossibly close by the time we stopped and the captain began executing a full 360-degree turn so everybody everywhere on the ship could get an upclose look. Ranger Laura assured us that the fjord is over 800 feet deep, so we were in no danger of running aground.
The eastern shore of Tarr Inlet.
Notice the change in color of the water. The darker water is typical seawater, while the paler water is glacial silt runoff.
Look at all the waterfalls! LOOK AT THEM! This is just one patch of mountainside northwest of Margerie Glacier. There must be hundreds, maybe thousands of waterfalls in this park alone.
Margerie Glacier.
Patches of ice debris from the glaciers.
The incredible silt bands of Margerie Glacier. Each of these lines represents layers of snow or earth deposits that may be hundreds of years old until the glacier made its way down to the water from its birthplace in the mountains.
The pillars and spires of Margerie Glacier's face. On the lower left is a small waterfall from the very base of the glacier.
The eastern shore with ice patches and waterfalls.
A little perspective on how damn big the face of a glacier is.
Grand Pacific Glacier is considerably bigger than Margerie (I think it's the biggest in Glacier Bay) but less impressive because its face was covered by deposits from landslides. Look closely and you can see that it is fractured ice just like Margerie Glacier.
Try as I might, I didn't manage to catch the calving of Margerie on video - but I did get pictures of the debris fields spreading out each time a chunk of ice crashed into the water.
Looking back out of Tarr Inlet. Once we were in position in front of Margerie Glacier, the ship rotated 360 degrees so everybody everywhere on board could get a good look.
We saw tufted puffins floating past, unconcerned with us. Glacous gulls and black-legged kittiwakes (both gull species) were identified for us by the Rangers, along with black surf scoters, a marine duck. Later, I saw a bird attacking a gull for its meal that we assumed was a raven, until I noticed that the tail was completely wrong. During a warm-up break in the Observation Lounge, I consulted my Kindle field guide and discovered, to my delight, the culprit was a parasitic jaeger!
Why did I need warm-up breaks? Because it was cold as, well, a glacier bay, and windy to boot. The wind when we were in motion was strong enough to knock people over, blew my hair everywhere, and was painful even through hat, scarf, and gloves. We dodged in and out, seeking the best spots on the deck to snap pictures or get a look through binoculars, then when we could tolerate no more cold-searing wind and/or spattering rain, dove back into the glorious heat of the Observation Lounge for coffee and cocoa.
I saw Margerie calving into the water several times. Sadly, I was on the wrong side of the Lounge during the biggest calve, which was a huge spire collapsing into the sea and causing an “oooooh” to echo through the Lounge. I got there in time to see the huge debris field spreading out on the water below the glacier’s face.
After an hour admiring Margerie and the Grand Pacific, we turned around and retraced our (steps? Sails?) out of Tarr Inlet, turning west towards Johns Hopkins Inlet for a look at the Johns Hopkins Glacier. The inlet was closed to protect breeding harbor seals and their young pups, so it had to be from a distance.
Johns Hopkins Glacier.
The north side of Johns Hopkins Inlet.
Still, it was another impressive glacier with a face similar to Margerie, full of huge pillars of ice.
A better look at Lamplugh Glacier as we emerged from Tarr Inlet.
Moraines and retreated glaciers.
Many of the glaciers in Alaska aren't named.
Beautifully-colored rocks on the headlands near Lamplugh and Reid Glaciers.
The "suture line" that marks the collision point between two landmasses, a geologic feature rarely seen so clearly above ground.
A closer look at Lamplugh Glacier.
And a closer look at Reid Glacier.
There was literally nowhere you could look in this Bay that the scenery didn't take your breath away.
We passed by the Lamplugh and Reid Glaciers more closely on the return trip in some welcome - but sadly brief - sunshine, then the gale force wind generated on deck by increasing speed into an already-strong headwind drove most of us inside.
Our time inside the warm Observation Lounge didn’t last long, because the cry went up: “WHALE!” A stampede back onto the Observation Deck followed, and I sprinted port for a sight that had eluded my actual whale-watchign trip. A humpback, repeatedly breaching, leaping again and again out of the water as we passed. He also rolled and slapped the water with his fins, making me wonder if a nearby smaller tour boat was bothering him.
Near North Marble Island, we encountered many stellar sea lions swimming and basking on the rocks, and a bald eagle in one of the trees. One sea lion yelled at us from the water as we passed. (We all agreed it sounded insulting. I don’t think he liked us dang tourists.)
A small boat also touring Glacier Bay. The only way to enter it is by boat or plane, and only kayak campers can stay overnight within the bay.
I had better luck with whales in Glacier Bay than I did on my whale watch in Auke Bay.
Approaching North Marble Island, the water was full of noisy sea lions.
You can't see him, but there was a bald eagle perched in the tree.
Sea lions basking on the rocks.
In the Sitakaday Narrows, sea otters did synchronized swimming routines, popping out, rolling over, then diving again in unison. While I was eating lunch, they floated on their backs eating their lunch. They were obscenely cute with their little feet sticking up.
Once we passed out of Glacier Bay into Icy Strait, bound for Cross Sound and then the Gulf of Alaska, I noticed on the Rangers’ awesome map that we were about to pass one more glacier. So I sprinted back up onto the deck in time for a distant but still stunning view of the Brady Glacier, leading right out of the Brady Icefield in the southernmost part of the Fairweather Mountains. I ran up onto the deck so fast I left hat, gloves, and coat behind, but it was worth it. The Brady Glacier was the widest, most dramatic yet, but from a cruel distance even with my camera on full zoom. Through the binoculars, I could clearly see the icefield spreading out over the mountains, and although we were under clouds, the ice field was sunlit, glowing to the north. (See my facebook album for those shots, I didn't have my main camera with me.)
As soon as we passed Cape Spencer, and what appeared to be a high-tech lighthouse to the north, the sea started those deep, low rolls that I hate. I hoped we’d stay close to the shore and pass the La Perouse Glacier close enough to see, and Mt. Fairweather, which was the highest peak in British Columbia at 15,300 feet. With clear skies, one repeat visitor to Alaska had said it could be seen from a distance, but it the rain had started up again, so it didn’t bode well for mountain viewing or my dinner at Le Bistro.
Sadly, I was right. Ridiculous how a “low rippled sea” could make me so woozy. Dinner at Le Bistro was wonderful (salmon mousse on toasted baguette, duck two ways, and profiteroles for dessert), but I didn’t do it justice. Even without nausea, being dizzy makes it hard to enjoy a meal. Still, I had a stunning, if distant view of the La Perouse Glacier, and beyond a bank of seriously annoying clouds, Mt. La Perouse, rising 10,728 feet behind it.
An hour or two after dinner, I’d taken a Meclizine and felt a lot better, even though the waves were bigger. Go figure. Tomorrow would be another early day with our morning arrival at Hubbard Glacier, so I went to bed early.
Day 1 (Saturday, May 28): Chicago O'Hell
Day 2 (Sunday, May 29): Vancouver, Better Late Than Never
Day 3 (Monday, May 30): Embarkation Day!
Day 4 (Tuesday, May 31): Sea Day
Day 5 (Wednesday, June 1): Ketchikan, Alaska
Day 6 (Thursday, June 2): Juneau, Alaska
Day 7 (Friday, June 3): Skagway, Alaska
Saturday, June 4, 2016: Glacier Bay
Had some trouble getting out of bed at 6 am today, so I must finally be adusting to the time zone - right before I go home, naturally. The ship was quiet, and we were in foggy open water, so I went to Moderno for a waffle, then up Deck 12 to claim a spot in the Observation Lounge. There was plenty of space and time to peruse the Park Rangers’ merchandise, and I bought another DVD.
We began the Rangers’ narration of Glacier Bay with a huge rocky island that was said to be home to mountain goats. Two adults, two kids were spotted.
Sadly, the goats were muchh too far away to capture on my camera.
Facing south toward the entrance of Glacier Bay (we were sailing north.)
Approaching Tarr Inlet.
Clouds moved fast and patches of sunlight lit up the hanging glaciers atop the peaks.
Once again, the mountains were threaded with waterfalls, and the telltale moraines of past glaciers. We passed the Reid Glacier first and left the worst of the rain and fog behind for patchy clouds and frigid wind that had me running back to my cabin for hat, scarf, and gloves, since I knew I’d be spending a lot of today outside.
The shoreline is home to bears, moose, and other land mammals, but sadly none appeared today.
Sunlight illuminating the Fairweather Mountains that enclose Glacier Bay.
Reid Glacier, in its small inlet on approach to the larger Tarr Inlet, which is home to two of Glacier Bay's main attractions.
The Lamplugh Glacier.
The moraine of a retreated glacier.
The eastern shore of Tarr Inlet.
This retreated glacier wasn't labeled on the map. It was on the east side of Tarr Inlet.
We entered Tarr Inlet on approach to the Grand Pacific and Margerie Glaciers.
Grand Pacific Glacier is in the center, Margerie Glacier on the left. The Grand Pacific is the biggest, but hard to make out because its face is covered by dark soil and debris from a landslide. Margerie, on the other hand, is classic, with a face made of spectacular crags, crevasses, and spires of blue and gray ice, banded with deep blue and slate gray layers. We seemed impossibly close by the time we stopped and the captain began executing a full 360-degree turn so everybody everywhere on the ship could get an upclose look. Ranger Laura assured us that the fjord is over 800 feet deep, so we were in no danger of running aground.
The eastern shore of Tarr Inlet.
Notice the change in color of the water. The darker water is typical seawater, while the paler water is glacial silt runoff.
Look at all the waterfalls! LOOK AT THEM! This is just one patch of mountainside northwest of Margerie Glacier. There must be hundreds, maybe thousands of waterfalls in this park alone.
Margerie Glacier.
Patches of ice debris from the glaciers.
The incredible silt bands of Margerie Glacier. Each of these lines represents layers of snow or earth deposits that may be hundreds of years old until the glacier made its way down to the water from its birthplace in the mountains.
The pillars and spires of Margerie Glacier's face. On the lower left is a small waterfall from the very base of the glacier.
The eastern shore with ice patches and waterfalls.
A little perspective on how damn big the face of a glacier is.
Grand Pacific Glacier is considerably bigger than Margerie (I think it's the biggest in Glacier Bay) but less impressive because its face was covered by deposits from landslides. Look closely and you can see that it is fractured ice just like Margerie Glacier.
Try as I might, I didn't manage to catch the calving of Margerie on video - but I did get pictures of the debris fields spreading out each time a chunk of ice crashed into the water.
Looking back out of Tarr Inlet. Once we were in position in front of Margerie Glacier, the ship rotated 360 degrees so everybody everywhere on board could get a good look.
We saw tufted puffins floating past, unconcerned with us. Glacous gulls and black-legged kittiwakes (both gull species) were identified for us by the Rangers, along with black surf scoters, a marine duck. Later, I saw a bird attacking a gull for its meal that we assumed was a raven, until I noticed that the tail was completely wrong. During a warm-up break in the Observation Lounge, I consulted my Kindle field guide and discovered, to my delight, the culprit was a parasitic jaeger!
Why did I need warm-up breaks? Because it was cold as, well, a glacier bay, and windy to boot. The wind when we were in motion was strong enough to knock people over, blew my hair everywhere, and was painful even through hat, scarf, and gloves. We dodged in and out, seeking the best spots on the deck to snap pictures or get a look through binoculars, then when we could tolerate no more cold-searing wind and/or spattering rain, dove back into the glorious heat of the Observation Lounge for coffee and cocoa.
I saw Margerie calving into the water several times. Sadly, I was on the wrong side of the Lounge during the biggest calve, which was a huge spire collapsing into the sea and causing an “oooooh” to echo through the Lounge. I got there in time to see the huge debris field spreading out on the water below the glacier’s face.
After an hour admiring Margerie and the Grand Pacific, we turned around and retraced our (steps? Sails?) out of Tarr Inlet, turning west towards Johns Hopkins Inlet for a look at the Johns Hopkins Glacier. The inlet was closed to protect breeding harbor seals and their young pups, so it had to be from a distance.
Johns Hopkins Glacier.
The north side of Johns Hopkins Inlet.
Still, it was another impressive glacier with a face similar to Margerie, full of huge pillars of ice.
A better look at Lamplugh Glacier as we emerged from Tarr Inlet.
Moraines and retreated glaciers.
Many of the glaciers in Alaska aren't named.
Beautifully-colored rocks on the headlands near Lamplugh and Reid Glaciers.
The "suture line" that marks the collision point between two landmasses, a geologic feature rarely seen so clearly above ground.
A closer look at Lamplugh Glacier.
And a closer look at Reid Glacier.
There was literally nowhere you could look in this Bay that the scenery didn't take your breath away.
We passed by the Lamplugh and Reid Glaciers more closely on the return trip in some welcome - but sadly brief - sunshine, then the gale force wind generated on deck by increasing speed into an already-strong headwind drove most of us inside.
Our time inside the warm Observation Lounge didn’t last long, because the cry went up: “WHALE!” A stampede back onto the Observation Deck followed, and I sprinted port for a sight that had eluded my actual whale-watchign trip. A humpback, repeatedly breaching, leaping again and again out of the water as we passed. He also rolled and slapped the water with his fins, making me wonder if a nearby smaller tour boat was bothering him.
Near North Marble Island, we encountered many stellar sea lions swimming and basking on the rocks, and a bald eagle in one of the trees. One sea lion yelled at us from the water as we passed. (We all agreed it sounded insulting. I don’t think he liked us dang tourists.)
A small boat also touring Glacier Bay. The only way to enter it is by boat or plane, and only kayak campers can stay overnight within the bay.
I had better luck with whales in Glacier Bay than I did on my whale watch in Auke Bay.
Approaching North Marble Island, the water was full of noisy sea lions.
You can't see him, but there was a bald eagle perched in the tree.
Sea lions basking on the rocks.
In the Sitakaday Narrows, sea otters did synchronized swimming routines, popping out, rolling over, then diving again in unison. While I was eating lunch, they floated on their backs eating their lunch. They were obscenely cute with their little feet sticking up.
Once we passed out of Glacier Bay into Icy Strait, bound for Cross Sound and then the Gulf of Alaska, I noticed on the Rangers’ awesome map that we were about to pass one more glacier. So I sprinted back up onto the deck in time for a distant but still stunning view of the Brady Glacier, leading right out of the Brady Icefield in the southernmost part of the Fairweather Mountains. I ran up onto the deck so fast I left hat, gloves, and coat behind, but it was worth it. The Brady Glacier was the widest, most dramatic yet, but from a cruel distance even with my camera on full zoom. Through the binoculars, I could clearly see the icefield spreading out over the mountains, and although we were under clouds, the ice field was sunlit, glowing to the north. (See my facebook album for those shots, I didn't have my main camera with me.)
As soon as we passed Cape Spencer, and what appeared to be a high-tech lighthouse to the north, the sea started those deep, low rolls that I hate. I hoped we’d stay close to the shore and pass the La Perouse Glacier close enough to see, and Mt. Fairweather, which was the highest peak in British Columbia at 15,300 feet. With clear skies, one repeat visitor to Alaska had said it could be seen from a distance, but it the rain had started up again, so it didn’t bode well for mountain viewing or my dinner at Le Bistro.
Sadly, I was right. Ridiculous how a “low rippled sea” could make me so woozy. Dinner at Le Bistro was wonderful (salmon mousse on toasted baguette, duck two ways, and profiteroles for dessert), but I didn’t do it justice. Even without nausea, being dizzy makes it hard to enjoy a meal. Still, I had a stunning, if distant view of the La Perouse Glacier, and beyond a bank of seriously annoying clouds, Mt. La Perouse, rising 10,728 feet behind it.
An hour or two after dinner, I’d taken a Meclizine and felt a lot better, even though the waves were bigger. Go figure. Tomorrow would be another early day with our morning arrival at Hubbard Glacier, so I went to bed early.