PART II: GLACIER
BAY NATIONAL PARK
The
second part of our trip featured a week in Glacier Bay National Park. From the official park website:
“Covering
3.3 million acres of rugged mountains, dynamic glaciers, temperate rainforest,
wild coastlines, and deep sheltered fjords, Glacier Bay National Park is a
highlight of Alaska's Inside Passage and part of a 25-million acre World
Heritage Site-one of the world’s largest international protected areas.
From
the bottom of the deepest glacial fjord to the summit of its highest peak,
Glacier Bay encompasses some of our continent's most amazing scenery and
wildness. It is a land reborn, a world returning to life, a living lesson in
resilience. If ever we needed a place to intrigue and inspire us, this is it.
Glacier Bay is a homeland, a living laboratory, a national park, a designated
wilderness, a biosphere reserve, and a world heritage site. It's a marine park,
where great adventure awaits by boating into inlets, coves and hideaway
harbors. It's also a land park, with its snow-capped mountains, spectacular
glaciers, and emerald–green forests. From the summit to sea, Glacier Bay's
wildness is remote, dynamic and intact.
Sailing
through Glacier Bay today, you travel along shorelines and among islands that
were completely covered by ice just over 200 years ago. When Captain George
Vancouver charted
adjacent waters of Icy Strait in 1794, he and his crew described what we now
call Glacier Bay as just a small five-mile indent in a gigantic glacier that
stretched off to the horizon. That massive glacier was more than 4,000 feet
thick in places, up to 20 miles wide, and extended more than 100 miles to the
St. Elias mountain range. By 1879, however, naturalist John Muir discovered
that the ice had retreated more than 30 miles forming an actual bay. By 1916,
the Grand Pacific Glacier – the main glacier credited with carving the bay –
had melted back 60 miles to the head of what is now Tarr
Inlet.
What happens when nature wipes the slate
clean and starts over from scratch?
Today’s
visitors can see the answer to that question during the course of one trip into
the tidewater glaciers. Such a journey is like going back to the last ice age.
The land near the mouth of the bay, long-ago released from the grip of
glaciers, has had the most time to recover and is now blanketed by mature
spruce and hemlock forests. As you travel toward the glaciers the vegetation
gets younger and smaller, until you reach the face of the ice where nothing
grows at all. The successional processes so evident here offered unparalleled
opportunity for scientific observation and glaciologists, geologists, plant
ecologists and other scientists came here to study this dynamic landscape.
While recounting his scientific work in Glacier Bay, a plant ecologist named
William Cooper so inspired his colleagues at the Ecological Society of America
that they started the movement to protect the bay and its environs.
In
1925, President Calvin Coolidge declared Glacier Bay a national monument. Today
Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve continues to protect these natural
resources which offer a glimpse into ice ages past in the midst of a
flourishing and dynamic natural environment.”
We
knew that we wanted to visit Glacier Bay, but we weren’t sure how to do
it. There are no roads leading to the
park. Access is by plane or boat only. There are almost no trails in the park, and
off-trail hiking is extremely difficult due to the horrific bushwhacking that
is required. The park operates a daily
tour boat that travels up the west arm of the bay to the Grand Pacific Glacier
and the Margarie Glacier. That sounded nice, but we weren’t inclined to
travel all the way to the park just to take a tourist cruise.
A
bit of research revealed that the best way to really experience the park is by
sea kayak. However, we’d never really
done that. We thought about taking a
guided trip, but even a fairly short excursion (3 days or so) was horribly expensive. Plus, guided trips really aren’t our
style. The park has a concessionaire on
site that rents kayaks and all of the related gear. I was surprised to discover that beginners
are welcome, and even encouraged, to rent kayaks and
go on their own. Kayaking experience is
not required, though they do emphasize the importance of backcountry camping
experience. The 2-person kayaks are very
stable, and there is very little risk of capsizing.
While
it is possible to start a trip at park headquarters in Bartlett Cove, it is a
long distance from there to the glaciers farther up bay. One option is to combine a kayak rental with
an excursion on the tour boat. The boat
stops at 1 or 2 places farther up bay on each excursion. At those points, you can disembark and begin
your trip. The additional cost is
reasonable, and you are able to include the full day cruise in your trip.
We
decided to rent kayaks and include the day cruise with a drop off and pick up
farther up bay. That left us with one
more major decision to make. Glacier Bay
splits halfway up into a west arm and an east arm. The cruise ship goes up the west arm. Drop off points change periodically, but
during our visit the two options were the point where the two arms join and
Blue Mouse Cove, which is a bit farther up the west arm. The east arm is longer, and getting to the
Muir Glacier and the other scenic highlights on that side would require a
longer trip than the west arm. Also, the
west arm features bigger mountains and more dramatic scenery. On the other hand, the east arm sees fewer
cruise ships and other motorized boats.
It offers more of a wilderness experience.
Ultimately
logistics pushed us to do the west arm.
The ferry from Juneau to Gustavus (the only
terminal near the park) only runs twice a week.
That schedule meant that we would have 4 full days and 2 partial days
for paddling. That wasn’t really enough
time to fully explore the east arm. In
hindsight, I wish we’d added 3 more days to this part of the trip. More time would’ve been great in either the
west arm or the east arm. Prior to the
trip though, 6 days seemed like plenty for our first ever sea kayaking trip.
This
map shows the area that we explored, from the drop off point in Blue Mouse Cove
to the John Hopkins Glacier at the end of the west arm:
http://www.nps.gov/glba/planyourvisit/loader.cfm?csModule=security/getfile&PageID=1105149
GUSTAVUS
On
Thursday we took a ferry from Juneau to the village of Gustavus. The ferry departed Auke Bay (which is
actually 15 miles north of Juneau) at 6am.
For some reason the ferry requires, or at least strongly recommends,
checking in 2 hours prior to departure.
We stored our excess luggage at the hotel and arranged for a taxi at
3:30am. We arrived promptly 2 hours
early, and were just about the only people in the terminal for the next 45
minutes. For each subsequent ferry after
that, we arrived a little less early than for the previous one. For our last ferry ride to Skagway we arrived
an hour early, and that was still earlier than what was actually necessary.
We
tried to sleep in the terminal without success before eating the breakfast we’d
picked up the day before. After
boarding, we discovered that the ship had a full cafeteria with reasonably
priced hot breakfast options. Sigh. We remembered that for our next ferry trip
and planned accordingly. Unfortunately
that boat didn’t have a kitchen.
Sometimes you just can’t win.
We
checked our luggage (a couple of backpacks and duffel bags) and boarded with
small carry-ons. The ride to Gustavus was pleasant, though low clouds and drizzle put a
damper on the scenery. The highlight was
spotting a pod of Humpback whales shortly before arriving.
The
Gustavus ferry terminal consists of a small parking
lot and a bathroom. We wandered around
the parking lot for a bit before finding our ride. We used TLC Taxi for the 9 mile trip from Gustavus to park headquarters at Bartlett Cove. The service was excellent, and the price was
reasonable. On the way there we toured Gustavus, which consists of a handful of homes, a church, a
cemetery, and a general store. We
stopped at the store because some of the folks on our van needed last minute
supplies. At the end of our trip we ran
into our driver when we were on our way to the lodge for dinner. He let us store our luggage in the van so
that we didn’t have to carry it around with us.
That was really nice of him, and it made the last hour of our time in
Glacier Bay more pleasant.
Once
at Bartlett Cove we loaded our gear into a wheelbarrow for the ½ mile walk to
the campground. We set up camp before
walking back up to the ranger station to get our permit. Afterwards we completed the obligatory park
backcountry orientation. We also
borrowed 3 bear canisters from the park, to go with the one we’d brought. Four canisters for 6 days of food sounds like
a lot, but everything with any odor must be stored in a canister at all times. Also, the jug of Makers Mark whiskey we’d
brought took up most of the space in one of the canisters all by itself. While we were there, we checked the weather
forecast for Glacier Bay. Rain was
expected on Friday (day 1) with improving conditions on Saturday. After that, there was no mention of rain in
the forecast for the rest of the week.
It sounded too good to be true.
Then
we met the folks at Glacier Bay Sea Kayaks for the kayak introduction. There we learned how to pack, carry and
paddle the kayak. We also tried on our
rental gear. This consisted of knee high
rubber boots and rain gear. We already
had our own rain gear, but it is lightweight and designed for backpacking. The rentals weren’t expensive, and were
warmer and more durable. We figured it
would be worth having just for the extra layer of insulation.
We
also went over our planned route using a map and tide tables. Once that was complete we paddled our kayak
over to the tour boat for loading. We
would bring our gear up with us in the morning, but wouldn’t actually load the
kayak until after we were dropped off.
There was a very simple reason for this.
Our 2-person kayak was extremely heavy when empty. Fully loaded with gear and food for six days,
it would be immovable.
I
had originally planned to do the short (4-5 miles round trip) hike to the Bartlett
River that afternoon. We had talked with
another hiker who had seen several bears on that trail. However, all of the orientations and
logistics had killed most of the day.
Instead, Christy and I did the much shorter hike to a small woodland
pond. I was hoping to see a moose or
other wildlife, but the animals must’ve been hiding. We had just finished our hike and we were
preparing to hike back to the campground to cook dinner when it started
raining. It was really coming down, and
the prospect of cooking in the rain was uninspiring. We were right next to the lodge, which has a
perfectly good restaurant. The
temptation was too much to overcome. We
both had fish, along with a couple of glasses of wine / beer, and that little
burst of rain cost us over $100. At
least the food was decent, and it was warm, dry and cozy in the lodge.
SEA CRUISE
We
were up early the next morning. We broke
camp, packed the rest of our gear, and rolled everything up to the dock for
loading. We ended up storing our bags under
the passenger seats before assisting the crew with our kayak. I then took our surplus luggage up to the
storage shed behind the ranger station.
The
cruise ship left the dock at 7:30am. The
boat was maybe ¾ full, mostly with tourists, though there were a few other
kayakers getting dropped off in the east arm.
We were the only ones being dropped off at Blue Mouse Cove in the west
arm. The boat offered some light
breakfast options and coffee, and also supplied soup and sandwiches for
lunch. The crew was very friendly, and I
ended up talking with one girl who had graduated from my Alma Mater,
Appalachian State University. She had
been living in Asheville, but was contemplating a move to Seattle or Portland. I had to hand it to her – she had a knack for
living in cool places.
It
was a drizzly, overcast morning, so the tour operator focused on wildlife. First we stopped at Marble Island. This rock outcrop featured Stellar Sea Lions
and an incredible variety of birds. I’d
brought my telephoto lens specifically for wildlife photography. Shortly before we reached the island, I went
out on the deck, in the rain, to get a good vantage point along the railing for
photos. Before long
most of the tourists joined me.
One of them was exceptionally rude.
She thought nothing of putting her hand on my back and pushing me while
I was trying to take photos. This wasn’t
helping my photography, but I was more alarmed for my safety. The railing was waist high, and she was
pushing me forward rather violently. It
was maybe 40’ straight down to the water from where I was trying to stand. After about her third push I shoved back as
hard as I could. She went reeling, but
managed to stay on her feet due to the surrounding crowd.
I’d
had enough jostling so I decided to step aside and let someone else have my
spot. I timed it so that the pushy woman
wasn’t able to take advantage of the opportunity. I don’t like to reward bad behavior.
This
worked out quite nicely. I walked to the
opposite railing, which I had completely to myself. Before long I spotted a horned puffin in the
water below the boat. Horned puffins
look at little bit like penguins, except that they have wide, orange beaks. I got some shots of him taking off, which are
a hoot. Puffins
kind of run across the water to get up enough speed to get airborne. A few minutes later I caught him coming back
in for a landing. That puffin ended up
being the highlight of Marble Island for me.
There
were a number of other exciting wildlife sightings. First there was a humpback whale not far from
the boat. Then there was a bald eagle
perched on a rock below Gloomy Knob.
Higher up on the cliffs was a single mountain goat. There were numerous seals and otters. The biggest thrill though came shortly before
we reached Blue Mouse Cove. We spotted a
grizzly bear roaming the shore not far from where we would be
disembarking. Unfortunately I’d already
packed my camera away. I didn’t think it
was a big deal though, since we would probably see lots of bears during our
trip. I was wrong about that, but I
suppose we saw enough bears on our 2009 trip to last a lifetime.
The
other highlight of the cruise was visiting the Margerie
and Grand Pacific Glaciers. Near the
upper end, the west arm splits again. Large
boats can’t go very far up the John Hopkins inlet due to icebergs in the
channel. Instead, the tour boat turns
north up the Tarr Inlet and continues almost to the
Canadian border. Despite the marginal
weather, we got a great view of the face of the Margerie
Glacier. We even saw a couple of small calvings, where ice would break off the face of the glacier
to plunge into the ocean. The Margerie is a beautiful glacier, its face riddled with
cracks and shining with blue ice. The
Grand Pacific is less scenic, as its face is covered in dirt and rocks.
From
there we headed back towards Bartlett Cove.
At Blue Mouse Cove we unloaded our kayak, paddles, and bags with
assistance from a group that was being picked up. They were extremely upbeat. All they could talk about was how great their
trip had been, despite the constant rain.
That was encouraging. If they
could endure bad weather and enjoy their trip, so could we.
Getting
dropped off was a whirlwind. One moment
we were ferrying gear up the beach. The
next, the cruise ship was disappearing around the headland. We were truly on our own, deep in the watery
wilderness in a remote corner of Alaska.
Our
plan to was to spend the first 2 ½ days paddling up the west arm to the John
Hopkins Glacier. We hoped to make it all
the way to the glacier, but our progress would be dictated by paddling
conditions and the amount of ice we encountered in the channel closer to the
glacier.
We
had two choices in routes. The direct
approach would be back up the main channel, staying close to shore, before
curving west past the Reid and Lamplaugh
Glaciers. That meant paddling in open
water, where big waves and passing ships were potential hazards. Christy wasn’t entirely comfortable with
this. Also, the main channel is bordered
by steep cliffs for the first 5 miles.
We would have to cover that distance before we’d have a chance to get
out of the kayak. We weren’t sure we
were ready for that level of commitment.
The
other option was to pass through a series of narrow channels and islands into Scidmore Bay. At the
upper end of Scidmore Bay we could do a portage to
get back into the main channel. This
route promised milder paddling conditions in the sheltered bay and the
potential for spectacular scenery, if the weather improved. That area also has a reputation for abundant
wildlife. On the other hand, the portage
would be grueling.
We
chose the Scidmore Bay route. The main reason is that it offers a number of
camping options. If we’d taken the
direct route our first possible campsite would’ve been at the north end of the
portage path from Scidmore Bay. The park ranger had warned us to avoid
camping there, as there was a fresh moose carcass in the area that a bear was
feeding on. Since that wasn’t an option,
we would be forced to continue on, possibly as far as the Reid Glacier. That may have been doable, but it would’ve
been a long paddle on the first day.
It
was a foggy, drizzly afternoon, but at least it wasn’t pouring. In fact, I found the weather to be somewhat
charming. Our little corner of Glacier
Bay was peaceful, yet mysterious. Rocky
islands loomed out of the fog. Sheer,
towering cliffs disappeared into the mist.
Flocks of birds squawked at us from rocky perches, before erupting into
the air. Seals and otters disappeared as
we paddled by, while porpoises were breaching all around us.
Navigation
was a little tricky due to all of the islands and narrow channels, along with
the limited visibility. I cheated a bit
and used the GAIA GPS app on my phone to keep track of our location. I only consulted it a couple of times to make
sure we didn’t wander off course. I was
pleased that I only made one mistake before we found our way out of Blue Mouse
Cove and into the main channel of Scidmore Bay.
We
paddled to the north end of the bay, to the point where the Scidmore
River enters it. This was a long
stretch, and we really should’ve stopped for a break somewhere along the
way. I quickly discovered that I need to
stretch and rest after an hour or two of paddling. My back was really aching and Christy’s
shoulder (that she had separated in a mountain biking accident two months
earlier) was squawking by the time we neared the north end of the bay.
My
20-year old guidebook mentions good camping options on both sides of the Scidmore River’s outwash.
As we approached the river, it looked like there was a sandy beach
directly ahead of us. It looked
promising, so we headed for it. Looks
can be deceiving from the seat of a kayak.
We beached the kayak, but instead of a sandy beach, we were in a mud
flat. Despite this, I decided to get out
and walk across the flat towards higher ground.
It looked like there might be some possible campsites near tree line.
I
slopped my way through the mud and mussel beds.
Thank God for those rubber boots!
The walk took longer than I expected, and carrying the kayak and all of
our gear across that mud flat wasn’t appealing.
I was actually a bit relieved that I didn’t find much in the way of a
campsite. I returned to the kayak, only
to discover that the tide had receded considerably while I was gone. The boat was sitting in the mud, several feet
from the water. That’s when we
discovered that we couldn’t budge it without completely unloading all of our
gear. Unpacking the kayak in ankle-deep
mud was definitely the low point of the day.
It took several minutes to do that so we could move the boat a few
feet. Then we had to repack it, all the
while taking care to keep it floating as the tide continued to recede.
We
got back in and fought our way back out into the bay. We paddled past the mouth of the river and
approached the head of the bay and the beginning of the portage path. I was leery about camping that close to the
moose carcass, so we doubled-back to look for a campsite on the north side of
the river. We ended up settling on a
spot just above tree line a bit north of the river. It was a decent spot, but not
remarkable. The next day I found a much
nicer campsite in a meadow closer to the river.
That spot would’ve required a much longer walk though. That may sound trivial, but it really isn’t
when you have to carry your kayak and all of your gear. The ranger had strongly
recommended that we carry our kayak all the way up to our campsite each
night. Can you imagine emerging from
your tent in the morning to find that your kayak has floated away?
Scidmore Bay was loaded with wildlife, but its
best feature was utter solitude. We saw
a small fishing boat in Blue Mouse Cove, but no boats or people after
that. Motor boats aren’t allowed in Scidmore Bay, which is a nice change from the main channel,
which can get pretty busy with big cruise ships and smaller private boats.
We
pitched the tent on a moose superhighway back in the alders. That seemed a little risky, as moose are huge
and clumsy, but we didn’t have any other options. Setting it up below tree line would’ve meant
taking a chance on getting flooded that night by the rising tide. That was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.
We
set up the tarp along the moose trail about 50 yards from the tent. It is necessary to cook and eat well away
from your tent to avoid attracting bears to where you are sleeping. We had some light rain that evening, and the
tarp enabled us to stay dry. As we ate,
we gazed out over the misty bay and listened to the frequent splashes from the
seals. We went to bed around dusk, tired
from a long but thrilling day.
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