The time had come! After nearly an entire summer of envying the marine abilities of whales, sea otters, porpoises, and the like, Fluffy finally had a chance to get her sea legs. While no magical spell had been placed to turn her into a MerFluff, she had been invited on a four day kayaking trip along with four people friends. She would be only inches away from glaciers, icebergs, and 37 degree water!
The trip began with lots of packing. Multiple sets of rain gear, tents, sleeping bags, and most importantly, lots of food. Enough to fill several tall bear cans. While this trip would require a lot of physical work, it was also a priority to make it a vacation. The number of cookies, sausage logs and chocolate bars reflected this aptly.
They planned to go back into the West Arm of Glacier Bay, where they had been before on the tour boat, but there was no doubt that this would be a far different experience. The boat is restricted to certain inlets, but in a kayak only tides, icebergs and calving glaciers could limit you. The dramatic topography of the surrounding land provide only a few reliable campsites, so they had to play it by ear (a strength of Fluffy's) to see which campable areas might already be occupied by expedition tour groups or other private parties.
After checking in at the National Park headquarters and attending a backcountry orientation, the group boarded the same tour boat and settled in, temporarily, with their hot chocolates and muffins. The boat ride proved to be plenty entertaining, as they viewed 18 brown bears (many mums with cubs) and a few more black bears.
Wildlife viewing reached its climax when they spotted a wolf on the beach, and then saw three brown bears approaching it, creating an ultimate Discovery Channel face-off. The wolf tucked his tail between his legs and made himself appear small and wimpy, so the bears pitied him and eventually left him alone. This was a mildly terrifying scene for a small rabbit, especially to see right before departing on a wilderness expedition. She much preferred seeing the furry white specks of mountain goats bravely tiptoeing along the sheer rock walls. "Now
that's fluffy," she thought to herself, admiring their coats with a touch of envy.
Forty miles or so into the bay, the boat dropped the group off at the Ptarmigan Creek beach, a bit closer to the glaciers than the usual drop points. (Impatient Fluffy was glad to be traveling with four friends who each represented a different kayaking company because it got them some insider perks and saved some time). As the boat quickly departed the beach, tourists took photos from the back deck of the "crazy outdoorsy types" who were voluntarily being stranded on a beach far from civilization.
The strangest turn of events was that the sky cleared a fraction, and the little blue spot of sunshine (the "sucker hole," as locals know it) opened up into a fully sunny day, probably the third sunny day since June. While there was an impulse to stay on the beach and sunbathe, the group instead filled their kayaks with gear, stripped down to t-shirts, hopped into the boats and were off.
They spent the first night on the far east side of the Topeka Glacier beach, where they wouldn't disrupt the luxury guided trip camped on the main section. The torrentially rushing river created a solid sound barrier, and from their site they would never have known that another group was 300 yards away.
The group encountered a couple bear trails while climbing up the rocky ledge to overlook their campsite, but were never bothered by any wildlife except some clumsy ptarmigans shuffling about next to their tents early the next morning.
The next three days were filled with paddling, soaking up the sun, eating greasy sausage feasts at every meal, and exploring around the beaches and glaciers. The kayakers started by paddling into Johns Hopkins inlet, dodging delicately balanced icebergs every foot of the way.
Heading back out of the inlet, they kayaked by the densely blue ice of Lamplugh Glacier and felt the cold brisk breeze pouring off onto their skin and fur.
They found their next campsite at the entrance to Reid Glacier, where they could easily paddle over to the glacier (only slightly submerged at high tide) and explore around its icy formations by foot. They also found the old decrepit cabin of a miner who left his mark on the bay by planting spruces by his home, trees which presently appear nowhere else so far up into the bay.
Realizing that anywhere in the West Arm would offer stunningly majestic scenery, on the third day the group decided to forgo plans to kayak any great distance and instead enjoy the rare sunshine and beauty of the glaciers. They gradually made their way over to Ptarmigan Creek, their original drop-off point, and spent a leisurely evening anticipating with much regret their boat pick-up the next morning.
Until next time, Glacier Bay!
