Endicott Arm & Ford’s Terror
Alaska amazes. That’s what I have decided, most simply put; Alaska amazes. Even the most weathered guide, longtime local or frequent visitor will be awed and inspired by all that this gorgeously rugged wilderness has to offer.
Our morning began in front of Dawe’s Glacier, at the end of Endicott Arm. Its prominent beak juts out into the water, while both sides have collapsed all the way back to the bedrock on the shore. This uncharacteristic calving pattern and unstable configuration had everyone in the Zodiac convinced that we would see a lot of the dense, blue ice falling into the sea as the tide continued to retreat. After a short wait, filled with the sounds of cracking deep in the glacier and small chunks falling to the water, we were rewarded with a large slab falling from one side. The first was soon followed by a second, even larger piece, which crashed and exploded into the water. As we watched, the impact wave radiated out towards our Zodiac. It gently lifted us high into the air, then set us down into its trough and up again to the next wave’s crest. We were forced to turn back and head to the National Geographic Sea Lion, before the newly floating ice closed our retreat. When we reboarded the ship, we were rocked back and forth for the rest of the morning by the waves the glacier continued to send our way.
After lunch, with our fingers crossed that the tides would again be in our favor, we made our way to Ford’s Terror. The entrance to this inlet is so tight that there is frequently a standing wave at its mouth making it impassable even in a high-powered Zodiac. It makes it easier to imagine the true terror that Henry Ford experienced in his oar-powered wooden dingy when he was doing surveying with the US Navy here in 1889.
Sharp eyes to the shore spotted a mother mink and her brood of four. As they are typically elusive animals, we were very excited when they stuck around for a while so we could watch them swimming, running and rolling around in the soft green moss carpeting the shoreline’s granite.
Our eyes then caught sight of Arctic Terns flying back and forth overhead. As if on cue, one dove into the water and rose with a tasty fish tidbit securely held in its beak. Then it carried the fish to a juvenile tern on the shore, swooped and came down to land, offering up its catch.
At the end of the day, I know; Alaska has amazed us all once again.
Alaska amazes. That’s what I have decided, most simply put; Alaska amazes. Even the most weathered guide, longtime local or frequent visitor will be awed and inspired by all that this gorgeously rugged wilderness has to offer.
Our morning began in front of Dawe’s Glacier, at the end of Endicott Arm. Its prominent beak juts out into the water, while both sides have collapsed all the way back to the bedrock on the shore. This uncharacteristic calving pattern and unstable configuration had everyone in the Zodiac convinced that we would see a lot of the dense, blue ice falling into the sea as the tide continued to retreat. After a short wait, filled with the sounds of cracking deep in the glacier and small chunks falling to the water, we were rewarded with a large slab falling from one side. The first was soon followed by a second, even larger piece, which crashed and exploded into the water. As we watched, the impact wave radiated out towards our Zodiac. It gently lifted us high into the air, then set us down into its trough and up again to the next wave’s crest. We were forced to turn back and head to the National Geographic Sea Lion, before the newly floating ice closed our retreat. When we reboarded the ship, we were rocked back and forth for the rest of the morning by the waves the glacier continued to send our way.
After lunch, with our fingers crossed that the tides would again be in our favor, we made our way to Ford’s Terror. The entrance to this inlet is so tight that there is frequently a standing wave at its mouth making it impassable even in a high-powered Zodiac. It makes it easier to imagine the true terror that Henry Ford experienced in his oar-powered wooden dingy when he was doing surveying with the US Navy here in 1889.
Sharp eyes to the shore spotted a mother mink and her brood of four. As they are typically elusive animals, we were very excited when they stuck around for a while so we could watch them swimming, running and rolling around in the soft green moss carpeting the shoreline’s granite.
Our eyes then caught sight of Arctic Terns flying back and forth overhead. As if on cue, one dove into the water and rose with a tasty fish tidbit securely held in its beak. Then it carried the fish to a juvenile tern on the shore, swooped and came down to land, offering up its catch.
At the end of the day, I know; Alaska has amazed us all once again.
