LeConte Bay icebergs and Petersburg muskeg
It was a day for many unusual views of our world. Early in the morning we anchored outside the opening to LeConte Bay, our ship weather-vaning into the strongly ebbing tide. Post breakfast, Zodiacs filled with intrepid guests departed the mother ship in a heavy mist and quickly disappeared into the fog, heading for the ice-choked mouth of the bay. As we sliced our way through the leaden water the steep forest-clad hills echoed with the plaintive cries of marbled murrelets, a seabird cousin of the puffin nearly ubiquitous here in Southeast Alaska. Soon we approached the mouth of the bay where ages ago the LeConte glacier had tarried long enough to form a terminal moraine. Now the glacier is seven miles up the fjord and regularly calves large icebergs that float their way to the shallow moraine area and become grounded. The big icebergs, aground even in mid-channel at the bay's entrance, formed an impressive gallery of stunning blue and white forms, but nature's subtle artistry at work along the shoreline also caught our eye.
Rising and falling tides, wind and currents, had conspired with floating ice and the gently sloping shoreline to present us with this gradation of ice sculptures from largest to smallest. The horizontal plane of the water's edge is mirrored in the invisible line that connects the top of each piece of ice. This sorting by size happens during high tide as wind pushes the smaller pieces (called growlers) far up the beach until they run aground. The larger pieces (called bergy bits) run aground further out. When the tide drops, as in this photo, the result is an unusual picture of order among the seemingly random workings of nature.
In the afternoon we experienced sunshine with intermittent rain showers and dramatic cloudscapes while docked in the fishing community of Petersburg. Many of us boarded Zodiacs once more to cross the Wrangell Narrows for hiking and kayaking while others opted for a relaxing time on board ship or exploring town. The hiking trail to Petersburg Creek led us through a dense spruce and hemlock forest before reaching a large muskeg habitat where scattered trees, sphagnum moss and carnivorous sundew plants ruled. The open expanse afforded us this view of a Sitka black-tailed deer framed by shore pines and browsing near the forest edge, alert at our presence but unconcerned.
The varied activities throughout the day -- from ice tours by Zodiac in the fog and rain to kayaking and hiking to soaking up the ambience of small town Alaska and enjoying each other's company made for a marvelous day -- "Un dia maravilloso!" as our guest from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, would say.
It was a day for many unusual views of our world. Early in the morning we anchored outside the opening to LeConte Bay, our ship weather-vaning into the strongly ebbing tide. Post breakfast, Zodiacs filled with intrepid guests departed the mother ship in a heavy mist and quickly disappeared into the fog, heading for the ice-choked mouth of the bay. As we sliced our way through the leaden water the steep forest-clad hills echoed with the plaintive cries of marbled murrelets, a seabird cousin of the puffin nearly ubiquitous here in Southeast Alaska. Soon we approached the mouth of the bay where ages ago the LeConte glacier had tarried long enough to form a terminal moraine. Now the glacier is seven miles up the fjord and regularly calves large icebergs that float their way to the shallow moraine area and become grounded. The big icebergs, aground even in mid-channel at the bay's entrance, formed an impressive gallery of stunning blue and white forms, but nature's subtle artistry at work along the shoreline also caught our eye.
Rising and falling tides, wind and currents, had conspired with floating ice and the gently sloping shoreline to present us with this gradation of ice sculptures from largest to smallest. The horizontal plane of the water's edge is mirrored in the invisible line that connects the top of each piece of ice. This sorting by size happens during high tide as wind pushes the smaller pieces (called growlers) far up the beach until they run aground. The larger pieces (called bergy bits) run aground further out. When the tide drops, as in this photo, the result is an unusual picture of order among the seemingly random workings of nature.
In the afternoon we experienced sunshine with intermittent rain showers and dramatic cloudscapes while docked in the fishing community of Petersburg. Many of us boarded Zodiacs once more to cross the Wrangell Narrows for hiking and kayaking while others opted for a relaxing time on board ship or exploring town. The hiking trail to Petersburg Creek led us through a dense spruce and hemlock forest before reaching a large muskeg habitat where scattered trees, sphagnum moss and carnivorous sundew plants ruled. The open expanse afforded us this view of a Sitka black-tailed deer framed by shore pines and browsing near the forest edge, alert at our presence but unconcerned.
The varied activities throughout the day -- from ice tours by Zodiac in the fog and rain to kayaking and hiking to soaking up the ambience of small town Alaska and enjoying each other's company made for a marvelous day -- "Un dia maravilloso!" as our guest from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, would say.
