According to Captain Mark Graves, it was a great day to be a duck. So we attired ourselves in the finest of waterproof plumages and most stylish and colorful webbed feet and went out in it. The only way we might have failed was in the vocalizations. Somehow "ohs!", "aahs!" and "wows!" did not translate directly into "quack."

Sweetheart Falls and Ford's Terror were worlds away in terms of names and only four hours in real miles. Water cascaded through a narrow cut, down successively lower rock ledges at Sweetheart Falls in Gilbert Bay. Salmon milled in the pools at the base of each, leaping as high as fifteen feet to move forth to their spawning grounds.

Ford's Terror, a narrow slot in polished rounded domes two thousand feet high, sculpted by glaciers and adorned with waterfalls, brought fear into a young man more than a century ago as icebergs smashed from wall to wall in a turbulent current produced by the falling tide. In his tiny boat, he felt threatened. Today in our Zodiacs, with careful timing, we simply felt insignificant in the face of this awesome beauty.