William’s Cove & Tracy Arm
William’s Cove is an extension of Holkam Bay that lies at the brink of spectacular scenery. The entire length of Southeast Alaska has faults that separate the coastal mountains from the series of large islands and open ocean. If you would have been searching for us this morning, we would have been in a small cove connected to Holkam Bay, both lying along large faults. We would have been either hiking or happily paddling about in little boats. If you were in the cove you would have heard a loud, “hey bear, clap, clap, clap” echoing within the trees. Hikers followed an excellent bear trail. It wound here and there making logical turns except where it led us under moss-covered logs. Some people discovered the magic of a muskeg that tenaciously held a suddenly empty boot, while others made their way to a beaver pond or lumbered along in the tracks of bears.
Kayakers squeezed into their waiting crafts, adjusted their gear amidst an organized yet chaotic mass of last minute details, then glided out, bound to earth by an alternate gravity where movement becomes fluid, and water offers a sense of peace. Icebergs and bergie bits offered destinations and places to explore as well as waterfalls. It seems quite clear to me that this magnificent place with all its wildness, its deeply cut fiords and primeval forests can pour into your senses and eventually into your soul so much better when you’re at water level in a kayak. Why is that?
Of all the deep glacial fiords in this mystical land, none is as tangible as Tracy Arm. It’s “in your face”. You feel like you can almost touch the massive rock walls. The landscape’s towering granite walls dwarfed our tiny rubber Zodiacs. After winding through bergie bits and smaller brash ice, as the smaller pieces are called, we arrived at the Sawyer Glaciers. It was hard to turn away from the blue in their craggy ice faces. Sounds like gunshots gripped our attention as ice under unfathomable stress snapped. Massive chunks fell from the face like the photo shows, shooting rockets of spray into the air.
After enthusiastic, lighthearted chatter with new friends in the lounge, we transitioned into dinner. Not long from now we’ll be in another place far from here, carrying a bit of Southeast Alaska with us. Those memories will show up in the most unpredictable places.
William’s Cove is an extension of Holkam Bay that lies at the brink of spectacular scenery. The entire length of Southeast Alaska has faults that separate the coastal mountains from the series of large islands and open ocean. If you would have been searching for us this morning, we would have been in a small cove connected to Holkam Bay, both lying along large faults. We would have been either hiking or happily paddling about in little boats. If you were in the cove you would have heard a loud, “hey bear, clap, clap, clap” echoing within the trees. Hikers followed an excellent bear trail. It wound here and there making logical turns except where it led us under moss-covered logs. Some people discovered the magic of a muskeg that tenaciously held a suddenly empty boot, while others made their way to a beaver pond or lumbered along in the tracks of bears.
Kayakers squeezed into their waiting crafts, adjusted their gear amidst an organized yet chaotic mass of last minute details, then glided out, bound to earth by an alternate gravity where movement becomes fluid, and water offers a sense of peace. Icebergs and bergie bits offered destinations and places to explore as well as waterfalls. It seems quite clear to me that this magnificent place with all its wildness, its deeply cut fiords and primeval forests can pour into your senses and eventually into your soul so much better when you’re at water level in a kayak. Why is that?
Of all the deep glacial fiords in this mystical land, none is as tangible as Tracy Arm. It’s “in your face”. You feel like you can almost touch the massive rock walls. The landscape’s towering granite walls dwarfed our tiny rubber Zodiacs. After winding through bergie bits and smaller brash ice, as the smaller pieces are called, we arrived at the Sawyer Glaciers. It was hard to turn away from the blue in their craggy ice faces. Sounds like gunshots gripped our attention as ice under unfathomable stress snapped. Massive chunks fell from the face like the photo shows, shooting rockets of spray into the air.
After enthusiastic, lighthearted chatter with new friends in the lounge, we transitioned into dinner. Not long from now we’ll be in another place far from here, carrying a bit of Southeast Alaska with us. Those memories will show up in the most unpredictable places.
