From water level a tidewater glacier is something to behold. Two of them within our field of view simultaneously was breathtaking. Holding our position where Tracy Arm divided like a hand we could follow the direction of one finger and see the sun glimmering off the azure-edged and ragged seracs of South Sawyer Glacier. Its path from the mountains of Canada traversed a rocky ledge bending the hundreds of feet of metamorphosed snow to the point of fracture in the upper zone. Letting our eyes follow the thumb-like channel to the north, its partner, Sawyer stayed mostly hidden behind a colorful contorted rocky ledge. Both were actively sending cascades of house-sized chunks out to sea and the milky water was littered with jewel-like growlers and bergy-bits in multiple hues of blue. Distant thundering rumbles echoed from the walls.

One step away was a different view. Anchored in Williams Cove, the Sea Lion sent its community forth as well. Speckles of brightly colored kayaks with flashing limb-like paddles littered the cove, holding steady as the sound of a plane neared. Zodiacs filled with orange-jacketed bodies paused in their transit to the shore. Hikers turned from their paths to the woods to watch the Otter land. Minutes later, nestled inside the body of this man-made bird, reality took on the visage of a dream. Earphones masked the sound of the motor and the occupants soared high over the fjord to the place where we had just been. Past the glacial face and up the frosty road towards sharp curved horns and peaks, the moraine striped highway led. Cobalt pools beckoned from deep within. Over the ridge and down a valley less than a blink away, narrow dark lakes formed a chain, crowned by delightful Sweetheart Falls. The puzzle was now complete. With the eyes of a bird we saw the land and understood the power of ice.