59 Degrees North Latitude
Saturday, July 7th – How lucky are we! Blue skies and sun have replaced rain and fog. We motor into Barlett Cove inside Glacier Bay National Park for our mandatory Park Service Orientation Lecture. The bay is peaceful with distant mountain views. It is hard to believe that the land of glaciers is just miles away.
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The Orientation Lecture is informative about where we could and could not go in the park, and it was very specific about dangers one could get into while in the park. Just after noon, we drop lines at the dock and head up Glacier Bay.
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Halfway up the bay, we pass Marble Rock with its aquatic bird and seal rookeries.
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Even if one could anchor in the deep water here, landing on this island is not allowed. This is definitely seal territory!
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Mt. Fairweather, at a formidable 15,700 feet, rises above the land around us. Where sailing in Desolation Sound had reminded us of Telluride’s San Juan Mountains, these mountains here are the San Juans on steroids.
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Very much delighted that the blue skies have stayed with us, we decide to continue all the way up Glacier Bay.
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This far north, there is plenty of daylight.
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Entering Reid Inlet in the early evening, the sweeping ice flow of the glacier lies ahead.
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The Captain declares that we are going to spend the night here. Here? We are in a barren, cold glacier-carved bowl. The First Mate is a little uneasy, feeling the danger that could happen in such a spot. It is so alone, so isolated and yet so wildly, formidably beautiful. It feels a thousand miles from civilization. With no wind, there is an unearthly quiet to this solitude.
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During the summer months in these higher latitudes, daylight lasts longer. At 2300, we go outside to watch the sun set.
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We caught that setting sun just in time, for 2 minutes later, it is the afterglow that we see off Avante‘s stern.
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Sunday, July 8th – Somber, grey skies greet us in the morning, and with them, The First Mate begins to feel a jumpy uneasiness with her surroundings. The scenery has taken on another character. Under the grey overcast, the landscape is dark and foreboding, and The Captain did not need to add to her discomfort by telling her that the water is a bone-freezing 39 degrees.
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Dressed for the weather and the damp cold, The First Mate takes the helm as we proceed down the middle of the bay. Does she not look like she is enjoying herself?
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The approach to Johns Hopkins Glacier has The First Mate on squawk alert. The Captain cannot imagine what for. It is so deep that the depth meter cannot even find the bottom for a measurement. We can drive almost up to the glacier and still have plenty of water below us. The Captain appears to be piloting the boat forward to do just that, but remembering how quickly these depths can shoal up, the First Mate squawks to his irritation. She reminds him that “a ¼-mile stand off from all glaciers is advised due to possible calving of icebergs and the tidal waves that can follow.”
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Tortured rock, formidable landscape. Need she say more to explain her unease?
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Motoring toward Tarr Inlet, the heavy overcast begins to lift with blue sky showing. The First Mate’s unease lifts a little. The formidable becomes formidably beautiful again.
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We are now approaching two of the most impressive glaciers in the park. Grand Pacific Glacier is straight ahead and Margerie Glacier is on the left.
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The sheer size of Grand Pacific Glacier is noteworthy. It is about 35 miles long, and 2 miles wide at its terminus.
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Its neighbor, Margerie Glacier, to which it was attached until the 1990’s, is the highlight of the park. It is about one mile wide, with an ice face that is about 250 feet high above the waterline. Its base is an amazing 100 feet below sea level.
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Keeping the recommended safe distance from the glacier, we are amazed to see two kayaks much nearer to the glacier. See those small dots on either side of center? Margerie Glacier is an active glacier with frequent calvings which is part of its popularity and also the reason everyone is told to keep their distance.
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We stop the boat and drift with the ice. We can hear the glacier cracking and groaning. The pressure building up must be tremendous.
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Every once in a while, a large chunk resoundingly cracks off and falls into the water. While sitting there below the glacier, we are treated to a number of these small calvings .
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As he leans over to watch a large chunk of glacial ice float past Avante, The Captain remarks that we are now at 59 Degrees North Latitude, and this is as far north as we are going to go. It is time for an about face. There is no doubt that The First Mate feels a sense of relief. “Avante! Go South, my boat, go South!” she murmurs.
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With rain clouds bearing down on us, we head into Blue Mouse Cove to anchor for another night in this land of glaciers, rock and ice. After dinner The First Mate peaks out to make sure all is still right with her world. She hears a shrooshing sound not far from the boat. A whale’s fin skims the water surface. It’s dinner time for the whale, and she’s making her way around the perimeter of the bay inhaling krill and coming up regularly for a breath of air.
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It’s a Minke Whale — one of the smaller ones weighing in at a mere 7 tons or so. We watch her for quite a while and are amazed to see her swim and dive just a few yards from shore. She’s so close to the surface that we can easily follow her progress by watching the bubbles. What a treat!
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Monday, July 9th – On our last day in the national park, we motored the rest of the way down Glacier Bay in light rain and no wind. The water was smooth and glassy. We stopped at Bartlett Cove for the night where we were able to fuel and get showers and internet.
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The weather forecast is poor. “A stationary low in the Gulf of Alaska will spawn a series of fronts over the next four days.” This means rain, low visibility and inconsistent winds. We are due in Sitka in three days to meet another friend. To get there, we had hoped to go down the west side of Chichagof Island where we would be out in the ocean and might find enough wind to sail, but with poor weather and low visibility expected, The Captain elects to take the more comfortable inside route. We have 150nm of wet motoring ahead of us.
But, oh, you Weather Gods out there – We are not complaining. Every time we have really needed blue skies and sun, they were there for us. All we need to do is think of the gorgeous weather we had in Desolation Sound, in Tracy Arm and when we were at the glaciers here in Glacier Bay. No complaints here as we head out into the rain!