The organization with which I am placed recently embarked on its annual "High Adventure", backcountry kayak trip. This year we chose to paddle around Pleasant Island, a small island located just south of Gustavus, Alaska in Icy Strait. The absence of human impact seems to amplify the natural features, pristine seascapes, and abundance of wildlife in this part of the world, and in turn, seems to amplify my never-ending sense of awe for the scale of landscape that defines Southeast Alaska. And while we could see the occasional passing ferry or fishing vessel far off in the distance, we still felt very much on our own, living by the sun and the tides for five, beautiful days.
5/23/13 - Thursday: Embarking
I walked out of the front door of my house this morning at 4 a.m, met by the early morning chill that accompanies a cloudless sky, which was beginning to grow brighter with hues of pink and blue, silhouetting Mount Juneau in the process. The thermometer read 37 degrees Fahrenheit, but the abyssal blue sky and increasing chatter of birds promised warmth still to come. Today is the first of 6 days we will spend traveling to Gustavus and around Pleasant Island, located just south of Gustavus in Icy Strait. It was an early and long day today, which started out with picking up the consumers who would be joining our trip and boarding our 5am ferry for a four-hour journey to Gustavus. After getting our kayaks packed for 4 days of camping (a jigsaw puzzle of a process) and having lunch on the beach, we paddled across icy passage, a half-mile crossing which turned out to be the shortest, but most stressful section of paddling that we would encounter. These sunny, beautiful days in Southeast Alaska are usually accompanied by increasing winds on the open water as solar radiation stirs up the marine air, and today was no different. 3-foot seas were the largest that I had ever experienced in a kayak, and we made a beeline for the lee shoreline of Pleasant Island. We were rewarded with a steady breeze at our backs, a short paddle to our campsite for the night, and a painted sunset over the Fairweather range from our camp along the northeast side of the Island.
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| Goodbye for now, Juneau. Beautiful view from the Ferry |
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| We stopped to collect water from a stream along the North coast of Pleasant Island. |
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| Up above the tideline, settled in and enjoying all this sunshine and late evenings! |
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| Couldn't have asked for a better sunset for our first night. |
5/24 - Friday
A cold, breezy morning and a less-than-optimal marine forecast from the robotic voice of the weather band on our VHF radio did not make me optimistic for the next two days of paddling. The tide rose to meet our kayaks as we piled our gear back in, and the wind died down about 20 minutes after we set out. The rest of the day was blissfully calm, still air and silence interrupted only by the occasional raven, huffing sea lion, and singing of the various members of our group to help pass the time. The tide carried us east and around "Noon Point" where, conveniently enough, we stopped for lunch in a small, cliffed-in cove and listened to the distant thunder of Humpback Whales breaching across Icy Strait.
The tide turned as we set off after lunch, pulling us back along the south side of Pleasant Island to our camp that night. Our process of packing and setting up for dinner becoming more fluid today than our previous night. Megan and I evaluated the tidelines from the day, and decided to pitch the tent on the beach rather than back in the woods as we had the previous evening. We witnessed the accuracy of our location choice around 1am the next morning as the tide came to within about 6 inches of our tent door. While the rest of our party slept soundly, we stood outside in the darkness, waiting to see if we would have to scramble and pull our shelter up another foot or two. As the waves gently rolled in, they stirred the algae riding the tide, giving off a bioluminescent glow that ran the entire shoreline. Had we not come so close to having our campsite flooded I not otherwise have witnessed this beautiful, microscopic phenomenon.
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| Noon point, looking across Icy Strait southeast towards Hoonah. |
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| Noon point again, looking north/northeast at the Chilkat mountains |
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| Looking West from the tideline below camp |
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| The opposite view from the above photo, back towards Hoonah |
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| A semi-long exposure, getting the last bit of enjoyment from the fire before the tide puts it out for us, erasing any trace of our presence. |
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| 1 am, still a faint glow on the horizon. |
5/25 - Saturday
Not as far to paddle today. Just around the south side of Pleasant Island and up to a cabin just south of the westernmost point of the Island. "The Cabin" as it is referred to, is an old family-owned subsistence cabin which was opened for use for the whole Gustavus community. We were kindly allowed to interlope and stay in this cabin our last night on Pleasant Island, and we dearly thank the Gustavus community for opening it to us. As we made our way to camp, we steered out farther into the water to avoid large kelp forests that lined the shore. A less-than-stealthy, heavy-breathing sea lion tracked our progress from about 20 yards off my stern, and sea otters lounged in kelp beds, enjoying their personal solitude.
I have immensely enjoyed the extended company of my fellow paddlers on this trip, both staff and consumers. Away from the constant stimulation of Juneau, constantly structured activities that ORCA participates in, the opportunity presents itself to hear stories and learn about someone on a level not usually afforded by day-to-day conversations. Stillness of environment lends itself to stillness of heart and mind in my experience. In those moments I have found great insight into myself, and through mutual stillness, camaraderie with others.
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| The Cabin, and dinner on the stove |
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| The kitchen counter |
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| Pot of hot water by the fire, and a beautiful view west: the open Gulf of Alaska lies just beyond those mountains in the distance. |
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| Lunchtime for this spider...sorry to those who are more squeamish |
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| The Old Growth forests of Pleasant Island remain untouched from the glaciation that scoured Glacier Bay clean over the past 200 years |
5/26 - Sunday
Our final leg to complete the circumnavigation of Pleasant Island, and what a way to finish! Icy Passage remained calm as we made our final crossing back to the ferry dock on mainland. We were welcomed from our journey in spectacular fashion by a humpback whale: See below
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| Boom. He/She just kept breaching and breaching. So impressive |
After that great show, we came ashore, packed up the kayaks, had some PB&J's on the beach, and headed to the Bartlett Cove National Park campground to get ready for our tour up into Glacier Bay on Monday (Memorial Day).
5/27 - Monday - Memorial Day
Flat Calm, beautiful day for the trip up-bay. All sorts of birds, sea lions hauled out on South Marble Island, a calf and cow humpback breaching between the boat and South Marble. Mountain Goats (and a kid that couldn't have been older than 4 weeks), a brown bear and 3 cubs, tidewater glaciers, well one, actually, but consistently calving nonetheless. It really was a complete day, and after having been in the backcountry for 4 nights, having complimentary coffee, snacks, lunch and cookies, we really felt like were were in the lap of luxury. By the end of the day, everyone was pretty ready to head back to Juneau and the routines of home, although my time in Gustavus was not yet over. I planned to stay behind with a single kayak and paddle into the Beardslee Islands, weather permitting.
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| Sunset in Bartlett Cove |
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| The Margerie Glacier |
This past year has brought with it experiences I could never have dreamed of, but this trip to Glacier Bay was definitely a dream that did come true. This place is so wildly raw. It is the most rugged, untouched tract of wilderness i have ever experienced. Since visiting, I have started reading Kim Heacox's book
The Only Kayak, in which he reflects on the nature of wilderness, human experience in it, and the future of the wild in Alaska. I find myself generally in agreement with his struggle to comprehend the dichotomy between preservation, conservation, and human involvement (or interference, depending on your perspective) in the diverse and ever-changing ecosystems of Alaska. Studies have shown that those who visit wilderness preserves such as this one are more likely to incorporate a respect for it in their day-to-day lives, so then how does the National Park Service walk the line between mass-visitation and human impact minimization? I don't know, but I do know that I would like this place to remain here for future generations to experience just as I have.
