Bears and More Bears!

Anan Creek is a special place in July. Salmon are returning and the bears show up to gorge themselves on a high calorie diet, fattening up for hibernation. Both black and brown bears are here, and it's amusing to see how the black bears keep out of the way of their larger cousin.

Most of these shots were taken from a blind set up by the forest service, and at times, had I been stupid enough, I could have reached out and touched the one brown bear among the blacks. Glenda called him her movie star bear, and it's true, he looked so healthy and so handsome (he's a male.)

Patti and Marty were with us, traveling from Petersburg to Wrangell, then to Ketchikan. They flew home yesterday and for the first time this summer, Glenda and I will have the boat to ourselves for the next 700 or so miles. The weather is nasty the next few days, so we'll wait here before crossing Dixon Entrance (open ocean) to Prince Rupert. There, we'll rent a car and drive up the Skeena River to visit friends Jenny and Paul in Hazleton, BC. Then back aboard and south through northern BC, picking our way down the Inside Passage. After the second ocean crossing (Queen Charlotte Sound) we'll hook up with friends Jan and Dave in Blind Channel, and will continue on home with them.

So the next (and last?) blog may be a couple of weeks away.

Until then, be happy and well.

Peter

We think this was a 3 year old cub.

The black bears spend a lot more time watching than catching fish

But every once in a while they succeed. I shot this with a slow shutter speed to give a sense of the speed of the water. This is actually a shot of the poor fish.

This was one bulky black bear

Despite their size, bears in general are remarkably agile, which they need to be in these dense forests

Here he is. "Movie Star bear" This is a young male brown bear. They grow to 1100+ pounds and 8-9 feet tall

Peekaboo Bear. He watched for a long time before coming down to join his peers in the creek. He's a black bear with cinnamon coloration.

This guy was amazingly good at fishing. I think he caught 10 fish for every one the black bears caught. Check out the claws!

He spend half the time climbing around the rocks and half the time wading with his head under water

This was with a 100mm lens! You could have gotten a picture almost this close with an iPhone

Of course there was lots of other wildlife. This raven spent quite some time talking to us.

Two black bears saying hi.

These guys were hanging around to pick up scraps

Yay. The cub got one.

What were they both looking at?

The claws were simply awesome. And their paws remarkably agile at holding the fish.

Eagles constantly swooped by.

Magnificent Glacier Bay to Petersburg

We've just arrived in Ketchikan and have officially begun our trek south.

The last three weeks have been a whirlwind on Seaducktress. First, we took Charley and Liz to Glacier Bay (we celebrated Charley's birthday in Gustavus), then Simon, Faith and our granddaughter Hala, travelled with us from Hoonah through whale territory to Petersburg, where we celebrated Simon's birthday. Finally, Marty and Patti joined us in Petersburg and on down to Ketchikan, but that  is the subject of the next post. (hint: BEARS!)

We've been checking in with the world periodically, and every time I do it, I ask myself, why bother? And so, I'm not going to comment on the craziness that seems to have taken hold of the country, except to say once again that spending time in remote areas, immersed in natural beauty, is the best antidote I know, providing the space to remind myself how the vast majority of humans on this planet are good, and that politicians and the media can only make hay sowing fear if we choose to buy in to it. So many words have been written about fear, about how most of us so rarely experience true fear (e.g. a bear charging you), or worry about the things we should worry about (using a seatbelt), and instead spend time fearful of potential (and highly unlikely) future events. As a physician, I know that living in fear if bad for your physical and emotional health, and as a student of history I know how effectively despots have used fear to bend populations to their will.

Yikes - I said I wasn't going to comment! Enough of that. On to the main show: the pictures!

We were just sitting there minding our own business when this pod of orcas passed us. I loved the starkness of their dorsal fins, slicing through he waters, demonstrating complete dominion over their environment.

About six or eight breeding pairs of sea otters were introduced back into Glacier Bay a decade ago or more ago. Practically every one we saw (and we saw a lot) had a pup on her belly, so it worked.

Charley and Liz kayaking in Blue Mouse Cove.

Charley and Liz

The weather wasn't without a bit of drama

In Bartlett Cove we decided to compete with the bears, picking blueberries from incredibly abundant bushes in the forest. This was next morning.

You're lucky I'm not subjecting you to a dozen Tufted Puffin pictures. But you gotta love this goofy little guy.

Marjorie Glacier, one of the most active in Glacier Bay. We anchored by ourselves for the night, about a half mile to the left, among the "bergie bits", listening to the thunder of the calving glacier. Scary and magnificent.

I always think of our friend Jim Whittaker when I see ice fields like this. Can't imagine climbing among the glacial seracs. This was taken with a long lens, but we could see it from our boat!

At anchor we were endlessly entertained by flocking kittiwakes. Love their black legs.

We offered assistance to a boat having mechanical trouble, and he gave us a bottle of his home made citrus IPA beer. It was outrageously good! Thanks Shenanigans. It went great with stir-fried chicken.

Sunset from our anchorage

We checked out Reed Glacier, which is one of the many receding glaciers in the park, no long calving into the ocean

A drone view from Reed Glacier out towards the rest of the park.

I've photographed this glacier-carved valley before. I never get tired of imagining the mile high wall of ice which originally carved it.

North Sandy Cove, our last anchorage in Glacier Bay

Sea Lion Rookery on South Marble island. Glenda spotted this gal scratching her ear.

All right. One more.

Simon, Hala and Boat Bear in a moment of reflection.

Tennakee Warm Springs - on our way to Petersburg

I love the delight on Hala's face as she sees a whale.

We ran into what seemed like 100 whales in Frederick Sound. Several breached near our boat, but I was slow with the camera. So you'll have to be satisfied with backlit spouts and whale backs for now.

Sitka to Juneau

Quite a few cloudy days in a row these past two weeks, vitalized by the occasional sunburst, an exuberant display of sky and Kodak clouds and snow-clad mountains whose sharp shapes seem etched and sculpted from background matter, and ocean that instantly turns from gray to the Deep Blue for which it is named.

Yes - the sun brings out the poet (or the poet wannabe) in me. Up here in the north, a sunny day is always something to cherish. A restorative. Proof that the universe is benign. And a welcome blessing for our passengers, to whom we've "promised" unparalleled sights and experiences.

We're currently sitting in the harbor of Auke Bay, about 10 miles north of Juneau. While in Sitka I was joined by Roger and Lynn. The first day of their visit Glenda was still attending her conference, so the three of us did a day trip, poking our noses around various islands and inlets surrounding Sitka, putting down a "lunch hook" in a delightful little bay where I made my experimental tuna salad (all by myself, Glenda :) Then the four of us went out for one overnight, finding a sweet anchorage about 10 miles north of Sitka. It was all too brief, but a delightful opportunity for deepening friendships.

Next to bat were Jason, Jacky, Mary and Arthur. With all six of us aboard, this past week was filled with rollicking card games, long naps (they work hard), and vigilant searches for wildlife. (I missed the shot, but one whale breached completely out of the water less than 75 yards away.) We started in Sitka, anchored in Rodman Bay, explored Tenakee Warm Springs, stopped briefly in Baranof Warm Springs (lots of hot baths!), Hoonah and Neka Bay, and then on to Juneau. Also all too brief, but so satisfying. I so proud and grateful for my family. It was Roger who told me that in his opinion, bliss is having all of your children back under one roof, even if for a brief time. We were half way there, (the other half coming in a week), but his words resonate.

Totem from Sitka's amazing Totem Park.

Roger, Lynn and I watched carvers at the Totem Park. This canoe, from a single log of Sitka spruce. 

Our trusty folding bicycle/trucks. My bag had more than 25 pounds of groceries.

Three of us explored to the far end of Silver Bay. This is only 5-6 miles south of Sitka. Gorgeous, uninhabited wilderness.

Trollers fishing near Salisbury Sound north of Sitka. Most of these boats are wood, and many are fifty to ninety years old.

What can I say? I love black and white pictures of ravens.

Jacky, Jason, Mary, Arthur, Glenda and I anchored here on our third night. Takatz Inlet on the east side of Baranof Island.

Jacky and I found three waterfalls. I love going to sleep to their sound.

The seining season is beginning. These guys were fishing for hatchery fish, but the takings were meager.

I'm constantly surprised by the quality of iPhone pictures. This is Mendenhall Glacier near Juneau, one of the few you can drive to.

An iPhone panorama in Auke Bay (Juneau) The harbor is filled with fish boats waiting for the July1 opening.

We were surrounded by gill netters. A little weather coming in after 2 days of beautiful sun.

Downtown Juneau, rendered in B&W. There were five of these cruise ships in the day before.

I'm finishing up this blog about a week after the Brexit disaster. Last time it was Orlando. The world keeps coming up with earth-shaking events, even as we feel distanced from the havoc, surrounded as we are by the timeless beauty of the wilderness. With limited internet and no television, we haven't felt as bombarded by it all. A blessing, providing us time and perspective to process, without the constant pressure and fears permeating the "real" world.

However, that doesn't seem to prevent us from occasionally dipping our toes into the fray. We took the "kids" to Mendenhall Glacier, where we walked out to Nugget Falls. There were five cruise ships in Juneau, and the park was crowded. I'm talking city-level crowded. (About 20,000 people descend on Juneau each summer day from the ships.) Most of the walk we were surrounded by people of many nationalities. I found it exhilarating, the tangible sense that we really are all one family. 

There was a particularly large group of folks from India, many of whom seemed to know one another. We came upon one young couple struggling to get a selfie with the glacier in the background, so I offered to take their picture. In return, they took ours. And then we talked. "Where are you from?" I asked, wondering if they were from the mountainous north or the hot south of India. "London," she replied in a beautiful English accent. And then her husband chimed in. "And I work for a French company. With Brexit, we have no idea what's going to happen when we get home, so we're going to live it up on this trip."

I repeat--we are all one family, and the world is incredibly small.

All the best,

Peter

The picture taken by our new friends from London.