Port Houghton and The Brothers Islands
To our delight we awoke to find ourselves in a magical, misty bay, the forested hills hushed by swirling vapours, and a gentle rain dimpling the water. Fortified by a lavish breakfast, we came ashore up a dark, winding river, landed on a steep cobble bank and fanned out in small groups to explore this wild corner of Alaska. Our first find was alongside the river, grass trampled flat by romping river otters, their bone-filled scats strewn liberally to claim their favorite fishing site. Down through golden grass hollows and up onto a raised beach, its thick moss carpet decorated with false lily-of-the-valley. We dug up chocolate lily stems to find the “rice root” bulb which was a food resource for bears and native Indians. Then we found ourselves along a deer track, pausing to help ourselves to ripe nagoonberries, finally barging our way backwards through a springy thicket of spruce and hemlock saplings to enter the forest.
Casting around for a path between soaring spruce trunks we suddenly found ourselves on a clear bear track; when this trail kinked left, deeper into the woods, we pushed on along a broad moose track, decorated with their distinctive droppings. Pausing to listen to the resonant Pok!Pok! of vigilant ravens overhead, and scolded on all sides by resident red squirrels, we followed the moose freeway back out into marsh.
Down through dense beach rye and now we were on a goose track, the mud criss-crossed with Canada goose prints at the high tide line. Suddenly, in fine clay right among the goose feathers, was a beautiful wolf print, pads and claws as clear as day. Following the tidal creek we found a splayed moose track where he had crossed from the marsh opposite. At this point we had shorebirds swirling around our heads: a ridiculously tame flock of least sandpipers, a small gang of yellowlegs, and spiraling spring of teal. What a place! We left our own footprints, which the next tide will obliterate, and were rescued by a timely Zodiac which took us for a final exploration up a wild creek where it seemed as if each spire of spruce had its own bald eagle sentinel.
We headed home again to the welcome warmth of the Sea Lion and a sumptuous pizza banquet. Just when we thought we could relax, Expedition Leader Sue Perin was on the intercom: “We are surrounded by humpback whales”. As we staggered on deck, prepared to surrender, we were twice stunned: first by dazzling sunshine, second by a blue horizon punctured by silver whale blows. A swift 360° scan revealed over 50 different whales. We drifted for hours past the beautiful Brothers Islands and Five Fingers lighthouse, entertained by a non-stop jamboree of head-slapping, tail-thrashing, flipper-flapping, blowing, bugling and breaching humpbacks. As each whale plunged again to feed, a tiny squadron of phalaropes landed seconds later in the swirling, glassy footprint to gorge on krill trapped in the vortex. How strange that a 1-ounce shorebird and 40-ton whale should dine at the same table… it was a fitting spectacle to end a week of unforgettable images, confirming Alaska’s reputation, in John Muir’s words, as “indescribably glorious.”
To our delight we awoke to find ourselves in a magical, misty bay, the forested hills hushed by swirling vapours, and a gentle rain dimpling the water. Fortified by a lavish breakfast, we came ashore up a dark, winding river, landed on a steep cobble bank and fanned out in small groups to explore this wild corner of Alaska. Our first find was alongside the river, grass trampled flat by romping river otters, their bone-filled scats strewn liberally to claim their favorite fishing site. Down through golden grass hollows and up onto a raised beach, its thick moss carpet decorated with false lily-of-the-valley. We dug up chocolate lily stems to find the “rice root” bulb which was a food resource for bears and native Indians. Then we found ourselves along a deer track, pausing to help ourselves to ripe nagoonberries, finally barging our way backwards through a springy thicket of spruce and hemlock saplings to enter the forest.
Casting around for a path between soaring spruce trunks we suddenly found ourselves on a clear bear track; when this trail kinked left, deeper into the woods, we pushed on along a broad moose track, decorated with their distinctive droppings. Pausing to listen to the resonant Pok!Pok! of vigilant ravens overhead, and scolded on all sides by resident red squirrels, we followed the moose freeway back out into marsh.
Down through dense beach rye and now we were on a goose track, the mud criss-crossed with Canada goose prints at the high tide line. Suddenly, in fine clay right among the goose feathers, was a beautiful wolf print, pads and claws as clear as day. Following the tidal creek we found a splayed moose track where he had crossed from the marsh opposite. At this point we had shorebirds swirling around our heads: a ridiculously tame flock of least sandpipers, a small gang of yellowlegs, and spiraling spring of teal. What a place! We left our own footprints, which the next tide will obliterate, and were rescued by a timely Zodiac which took us for a final exploration up a wild creek where it seemed as if each spire of spruce had its own bald eagle sentinel.
We headed home again to the welcome warmth of the Sea Lion and a sumptuous pizza banquet. Just when we thought we could relax, Expedition Leader Sue Perin was on the intercom: “We are surrounded by humpback whales”. As we staggered on deck, prepared to surrender, we were twice stunned: first by dazzling sunshine, second by a blue horizon punctured by silver whale blows. A swift 360° scan revealed over 50 different whales. We drifted for hours past the beautiful Brothers Islands and Five Fingers lighthouse, entertained by a non-stop jamboree of head-slapping, tail-thrashing, flipper-flapping, blowing, bugling and breaching humpbacks. As each whale plunged again to feed, a tiny squadron of phalaropes landed seconds later in the swirling, glassy footprint to gorge on krill trapped in the vortex. How strange that a 1-ounce shorebird and 40-ton whale should dine at the same table… it was a fitting spectacle to end a week of unforgettable images, confirming Alaska’s reputation, in John Muir’s words, as “indescribably glorious.”
