Point Adolphus, Chichagof Island and the Inian Islands
Expedition Leader Steve Zeff woke us early, to a dawn chorus of trumpeting humpback whales. Here, where the streaming tidal currents of Icy Strait meet the outflow from Glacier Bay, there is a rich plankton cocktail stirred by the swirling waters, which is quite simply the best fish restaurant in town. We gasped as 10 or 12 humpbacks rose ahead of us, blowing in sequence like a well-rehearsed brass band. Tall spires of whalebreath against the dark olive green spires of the spruce forests of Chichagof Island. At one point we could even smell whalebreath (or, more accurately, whalitosis). The dark humped backs rolled and blew again, then flared their tails as they sank into the depths to feed. Off to one side, a small humpback suddenly leapt clear of the water, hung for a breathless moment and hit the surface in a burst of spray. What a display of joie de vivre: he was a young whale, uninterested in fishing; with time on his hands and a willing audience, he ran through his repertoire of lobtails, backflips and cartwheels. At this point there was a cry to port of “Orcas!” and we turned to locate these. In one unforgettable moment, we had small, medium and large killer whales surface alongside us, the giant spike of the largest like a black stiletto above the waters. And all this before breakfast!
Later that morning we moved to Idaho Inlet and went ashore into the spruce forest, finding “hot prints” where generations of bears had paced across the mossy forest floor, and claw marks six feet up the trunks of some of the bigger spruces. We hiked up a rushing stream to a waterfall, and back out past orchid spikes and wispy lichens to the shore. Most of us managed to fit in time to kayak round twin islands where harbour porpoises fed offshore and sea otters floated among the kelp. The afternoon held more magic as we took to the Zodiacs among the Inian Islands, past flotillas of marbled murrelets, only to have more humpbacks surface all around us. They followed us into the tide race between the islands where we were escorted by Steller’s Sea-lions through the choppy channels. As we opened up the throttle to beat the tide, they raced us to the end, vaulting high out of the water in delight. We returned in sunshine, past a glowing green landscape wreathed in rainbows. After supper, we ended the day as we had begun, with a final breathtaking cabaret of thousands of feeding gulls above a chorus line of tailwaving, high-kicking and head-slapping humpbacks, backlit by an exquisite salmon-pink and indigo sunset.
Expedition Leader Steve Zeff woke us early, to a dawn chorus of trumpeting humpback whales. Here, where the streaming tidal currents of Icy Strait meet the outflow from Glacier Bay, there is a rich plankton cocktail stirred by the swirling waters, which is quite simply the best fish restaurant in town. We gasped as 10 or 12 humpbacks rose ahead of us, blowing in sequence like a well-rehearsed brass band. Tall spires of whalebreath against the dark olive green spires of the spruce forests of Chichagof Island. At one point we could even smell whalebreath (or, more accurately, whalitosis). The dark humped backs rolled and blew again, then flared their tails as they sank into the depths to feed. Off to one side, a small humpback suddenly leapt clear of the water, hung for a breathless moment and hit the surface in a burst of spray. What a display of joie de vivre: he was a young whale, uninterested in fishing; with time on his hands and a willing audience, he ran through his repertoire of lobtails, backflips and cartwheels. At this point there was a cry to port of “Orcas!” and we turned to locate these. In one unforgettable moment, we had small, medium and large killer whales surface alongside us, the giant spike of the largest like a black stiletto above the waters. And all this before breakfast!
Later that morning we moved to Idaho Inlet and went ashore into the spruce forest, finding “hot prints” where generations of bears had paced across the mossy forest floor, and claw marks six feet up the trunks of some of the bigger spruces. We hiked up a rushing stream to a waterfall, and back out past orchid spikes and wispy lichens to the shore. Most of us managed to fit in time to kayak round twin islands where harbour porpoises fed offshore and sea otters floated among the kelp. The afternoon held more magic as we took to the Zodiacs among the Inian Islands, past flotillas of marbled murrelets, only to have more humpbacks surface all around us. They followed us into the tide race between the islands where we were escorted by Steller’s Sea-lions through the choppy channels. As we opened up the throttle to beat the tide, they raced us to the end, vaulting high out of the water in delight. We returned in sunshine, past a glowing green landscape wreathed in rainbows. After supper, we ended the day as we had begun, with a final breathtaking cabaret of thousands of feeding gulls above a chorus line of tailwaving, high-kicking and head-slapping humpbacks, backlit by an exquisite salmon-pink and indigo sunset.
