Sculpted by freezing temperatures, craggy fingers reach skyward. From their knuckles and interdigital spaces flow rivers of compacted snow metamorphosed into blue glacial ice. Moving downhill at velocities of inches per hour, the glaciers continue their plucking and scouring, changing valleys to gentle U's. Tendon-like ridges direct their flow. At the wrist they merge, morainal stripes defining each unit but now they function as one.

The Fairweather Range infrequently shows its form, its features hidden except in fine weather. A backdrop to our day, it gave us its best show. The sun glistened on its flanks as Zodiacs cruised the shores of a nearby islet known as George. In the quiet woods our companions explored the moss covered hills spinning tales of a hidden cannon, its rusted barrel still pointed north and west. What stories could it tell of days gone by?

Sprawled on a beach of rounded granodioritic cobbles, we consumed a barbecue lunch and then set out in search of anything more. Were they peering at us or the mountains beyond? Furry bodies with the most charismatic of faces rose from the water or spun round and round, rotated apparently around their tails. Comical, cute, cuddly sea otters looked mostly like grizzled old men. Around the next bend, plumes rose from darkened shapes between the waves. Humpback whales! And at the end of the day the last rays of light painted the skies a delicate pink.