Idaho Inlet, Inian Islands
It’s not that any of us have minded the soft skies and cool, moist air, but to wake up in Idaho Inlet to blue water reflecting blue skies, to rippled reflections of white clouds lit by sun—who couldn’t feel we’d embarked on a day of extreme luck? We lulled in calm waters as the sun came up over the peaks of Chichagof Island and lit the grizzled cheeks of sea otters. National Geographic representative Kim Heacox held an impromptu photography class on the bow, and the feeling was one of hushed delight. It only got better from there.
White bog orchids, purple-blue beach pea, soft yellow paintbrush, and (oh my!) bear tracks ranging from small to gargantuan kept our eyes and attention keen as we poked through Fox Creek. Across the water, kayakers were treated to the massive, rolling sighs of humpback whales exhaling as they paddled around the Shaw Islands.
Southeast Alaska has welcomed us this week, each day offering up a new idea of plenty. But this afternoon, taking Zodiacs into the productive, swirling, crazed, whirling, churning, rich waters of the Inian Islands, we learned viscerally how wildness manifests itself here. Eagles swooped low to the water for salmon, chittered from trees, and harassed each other in the air. Pelagic cormorants, their white breeding patches flashing as they winged low over the water, ducked in and out of crevices in the rock. And, stealing the show, Steller sea lions pulled out all the stops.
In the water, they turned and splashed and cruised, their sharp exhalations echoing. Hauled out, they gutturally discussed lounging arrangements and shoreside real estate. We cruised along, buffeted by the currents, and then: splash, thrash, and a cloud of birds. A sea lion exploded from the water with a salmon in its mouth, shaking it to pieces as gulls dove in for scraps. To be eye level with the largest eared seal on the planet, to exchange glances as it rolls up from the roiled sea and slips back under the surface is to know the world is at once more exciting and more vast than ever expected.
Of course, after dinner and stories and photographs shared, we were ready for more. Why not a few humpback whales in the late evening? Why not the day continuing despite how tired we might be? A humpback calf breaching and breaching again? Sure. We’ll come out on deck and pay more attention. It’s why we came.
It’s not that any of us have minded the soft skies and cool, moist air, but to wake up in Idaho Inlet to blue water reflecting blue skies, to rippled reflections of white clouds lit by sun—who couldn’t feel we’d embarked on a day of extreme luck? We lulled in calm waters as the sun came up over the peaks of Chichagof Island and lit the grizzled cheeks of sea otters. National Geographic representative Kim Heacox held an impromptu photography class on the bow, and the feeling was one of hushed delight. It only got better from there.
White bog orchids, purple-blue beach pea, soft yellow paintbrush, and (oh my!) bear tracks ranging from small to gargantuan kept our eyes and attention keen as we poked through Fox Creek. Across the water, kayakers were treated to the massive, rolling sighs of humpback whales exhaling as they paddled around the Shaw Islands.
Southeast Alaska has welcomed us this week, each day offering up a new idea of plenty. But this afternoon, taking Zodiacs into the productive, swirling, crazed, whirling, churning, rich waters of the Inian Islands, we learned viscerally how wildness manifests itself here. Eagles swooped low to the water for salmon, chittered from trees, and harassed each other in the air. Pelagic cormorants, their white breeding patches flashing as they winged low over the water, ducked in and out of crevices in the rock. And, stealing the show, Steller sea lions pulled out all the stops.
In the water, they turned and splashed and cruised, their sharp exhalations echoing. Hauled out, they gutturally discussed lounging arrangements and shoreside real estate. We cruised along, buffeted by the currents, and then: splash, thrash, and a cloud of birds. A sea lion exploded from the water with a salmon in its mouth, shaking it to pieces as gulls dove in for scraps. To be eye level with the largest eared seal on the planet, to exchange glances as it rolls up from the roiled sea and slips back under the surface is to know the world is at once more exciting and more vast than ever expected.
Of course, after dinner and stories and photographs shared, we were ready for more. Why not a few humpback whales in the late evening? Why not the day continuing despite how tired we might be? A humpback calf breaching and breaching again? Sure. We’ll come out on deck and pay more attention. It’s why we came.
