Bears, ice fields, sea kayaks, and calving glaciers - the Kenai Peninsula
This entry was posted on 6/30/2006 2:20 PM and is filed under uncategorized.
I wonder, how to capture 3 incredible days in a
short blog entry. Its far beyond words as it is, but then to attempt to
transmit it.. I may as well try in a foreign language. This is a long
entry, covering a lot of going-ons. Some exerpts are from my journal.
Three days ago I began my exploration of Alaska on the Kenai Peninsula.
Accessed via the Seward highway, south of Anchorage, this piece of land
about the size of Connecticut is covered with the snow capped Chugach
mountains, expansive valleys, and deep fjords. Arising at 7am, I
meander down into the town of Seward and begin my ascent to the Harding
Ice Field (largest in North America). It's a solid hike, about 8 or 9
miles round trip, gaining 3500 feet in 4 miles. The weather is perfect.
Blue skies, only a few high level clouds.
About a mile in I come across a couple and their small child stopped in
the middle of the trail. As I approach the woman says smiling “We’re
waiting here ‘cause there’s a bear.” She points into a tree about 15
yards away, and sure enough a smallish black bear is hanging out. With
three pesky humans now encroaching on its personal space, its shimmys
down the tree (with amazing speed.. don’t even think of out climbing
one of these things), looks at us, and then starts walking up the
trail. The new problem becomes that he’s following the same trail we
are. So for the next 20 minutes or so, it’s a lot of yelling
(with the couple and there child staying conspicuously behind me) and
staying aware. A few times I spot him and he goes off into the brush.
All well in good, not even 20 minutes in the Alaskan woods and I’ve
come across a bear.
The canopy breaks up and stands of trees are replaced with bushes and
grass. Shortly after breakin extremely broken sheet of ice. The deep
and nearly constant crevasses extend perpendicular to the flow as it
moves over uneven ground. Spotted here and there are small pools of
melted snow reflecting a bright blue hue. Also mixed in with the
snowcapped mountains to my left and right, the dramatic glacier to my
left, the huge gravel wash far below me to my rear, is a mother black
bear and three cubs about 10 feet in front of me on the trail.
The bear sees me, as I’m close enough to look into its eyes. My first
reaction is to back away and give it space. Before that response
expresses itself, I override it with how one is supposed to react in
this circumstance. I put my hands above my head waving, and tell the
bear to go home in a firm, loud voice. She doesn’t seem to honestly
care. Just ambling toward me, with those friggin cute cubs in tow, not
being the least bit disturbed by my presence. Finally, after closing a
few more feet, after I’d already withdrawn the bear spray and popped of
the safety, she goes into the bush near the trail. I swear she
gives me a pissed off look as she does this, like, “what the hell, I
was here first.” Her cubs on the other hand, don’t see any threat in me
and keep approaching. The clamber off into the bush near their mother,
but stay in that immediate area still creeping towards me. Climbing on
bush stalks, rolling around. It’d be totally amazing if I wasn’t so
close. At this point, a small crowd has gathered near me. I’m the “guy
with the bear spray” and they stay behind me. After a minutes of
footage and dozens of collective photos, the bears finally get far
enough off the trail that I feel I can walk by without threatening the
mother’s cubs. Some people don’t agree and go back to the trailhead. I
now start yelling Hey Bear a little louder.
The trail leads totally out of the bushes and trees and eventually
drops into a large snowfield. The path is sporadically marked with
orange marking flags, but the path is clearly worn in the snow. It’s
still early, but the trail is already slushy making uphill very slow
going. An hour or so later and I find myself on a rock outcropping over
looking an intensely massive sheet of ice cradled in between peaks as
far as I can see.
Two days ago I drove into Whitter, Alaska. This odd little town is
accesible via the longest auto tunnel in North America. Built by the US
Army in 1942, the ice free port served as a back up to Seward. I'm
here, not to hide from Japanese bombers, but rather to go on sea
kayaking in Prince William Sound. The 6 mile trip takes me past
waterfalls draining snowfields thousands of feet above me, 4 foot waves
of milky green water, thousands of birds nesting on the cliff faces
above me, and to the point, total submersion into this incredible
environment.
One of the big items on my Alaska Checklist was getting to see a
tidewater glacier (a glacier that terminates in the ocean) and with any
luck, catch some calving (pieces of ice falling off). Prince William
Sound, off which Whittier lays, has more tidewater glaciers than
anywhere else in the world (another most, biggest, largest, etc etc).
Yesterday I choose an operator and booked a seat on a 6 hour tour,
promising 30 minutes of time dedicated to one highly active example,
the Surprise Glacier. After passing through the largest (that word
again) salmon hatchery in North America, looking at evidence from an
earthquake over 40 years ago (Good Friday quake, again, the largest in
North America), and hearing thunder like sonic crackling as pieces of
ice from a glacier terminus one mile wide break off into ice choked
water, I can check something off the list.
Right now, I'm sitting on a beach near Homer, Alaska. Layed out to my
east are a range of yet more white capped, rugged peaks. The sun is
still poking out (its 11pm here) and the broken cloud cover in the
distance is twinged in blues and oranges. Only a few days into the meat
of this trip, and I find myself once or so a day just laughing. It
hasn't quite set in yet, that I'm making a trip through one gigantic
fantastical nature painting.
Oh well.. I'm not quite on Alaska time yet, and this 11pm feels more
like 3am. Hopefully another update from Anchorage in a day or two.
