Port Houghton and Stephen’s Passage
Early this morning the Sea Lion entered Port Houghton, a large bay extending deep into the mainland coast. Just when it seemed our way was blocked by an extensive mudflat across the head of the bay, our expedition style of cruising showed its strong card – in a word, Zodiacs. We anchored the Sea Lion and in our maneuverable rubber craft continued along a narrow tidal channel connecting our anchorage with an inner bay several miles long. We drifted on the flooding tide for much of the long channel, enjoying the trilling call of eagles and the flute-like songs of thrushes. The inner bay was populated by curious harbor seals, red-throated loons, more bald eagles, belted kingfishers and a lone trumpeter swan.
While half the guests explored this hidden world by Zodiac, the other half explored the mudflats and surrounding forest and muskeg on foot. Mink tracks were found and cast in plaster, making the nearly invisible story of its passage easier to see and hold. A flock of least sandpipers, early south bound migrants from the tundra breeding grounds of northern Alaska, were so intent on feeding among the short grasses of the mudflat that they hardly paid us any mind as we passed. A greater yellowlegs, an elegant shorebird with a fitting name, sounded its piercing alarm when we must have approached near to its hidden young. All agreed that our morning expedition provided us with an exceptional look at a hidden corner of Alaska.
Distant Glacier Bay National Park was our goal to be reached by the next morning so we exited Port Houghton at lunch time and turned north, managing to make some small progress before becoming surrounded by humpback whales. Their dark forms arched above the flat silver water in every direction one looked. Misty blows hung in the calm air, flukes lifted skyward and shed water in glistening cascades and several whales catapulted into the air in a full breach. The scene was entrancing, almost captivating, and we enjoyed it for a good long time, but, with many miles still to go, we eventually became northbound once more.
The mid to late afternoon was perfect weather for cruising, or napping, as we continued on. Pete Pederson eased us into activity around 5 pm with a slide-illustrated lecture on the moustached whales. It would have been natural to slide on into cocktail hour and recap before dinner but a couple of sharp-eyed guests on the bow spotted movement on the distant shore. Sure enough, two bears were having their own cocktail hour in the intertidal zone. We slowed, turned, and the opportunity for closer examination was provided by the skillful driving of the third mate. Today’s picture of a brown-colored black bear (Ursus americanus) was obtained by our on board video chronicler. The tan-colored snout and lack of a shoulder hump distinguish this bear from the true brown bear, Urus arctos, or grizzly.
Dinner time came and went while we continued to make progress towards Glacier Bay. We probably knocked off a good twenty more miles when, around 9 pm, killer whales were sighted. A trio of orcas swam close together near the ship while a more distant cow-calf pair shadowed us. By 10 pm the light had faded and with the orcas no longer in view we turned once again towards Glacier Bay. With a very full day behind us, this time I think we’re gonna make it.
Early this morning the Sea Lion entered Port Houghton, a large bay extending deep into the mainland coast. Just when it seemed our way was blocked by an extensive mudflat across the head of the bay, our expedition style of cruising showed its strong card – in a word, Zodiacs. We anchored the Sea Lion and in our maneuverable rubber craft continued along a narrow tidal channel connecting our anchorage with an inner bay several miles long. We drifted on the flooding tide for much of the long channel, enjoying the trilling call of eagles and the flute-like songs of thrushes. The inner bay was populated by curious harbor seals, red-throated loons, more bald eagles, belted kingfishers and a lone trumpeter swan.
While half the guests explored this hidden world by Zodiac, the other half explored the mudflats and surrounding forest and muskeg on foot. Mink tracks were found and cast in plaster, making the nearly invisible story of its passage easier to see and hold. A flock of least sandpipers, early south bound migrants from the tundra breeding grounds of northern Alaska, were so intent on feeding among the short grasses of the mudflat that they hardly paid us any mind as we passed. A greater yellowlegs, an elegant shorebird with a fitting name, sounded its piercing alarm when we must have approached near to its hidden young. All agreed that our morning expedition provided us with an exceptional look at a hidden corner of Alaska.
Distant Glacier Bay National Park was our goal to be reached by the next morning so we exited Port Houghton at lunch time and turned north, managing to make some small progress before becoming surrounded by humpback whales. Their dark forms arched above the flat silver water in every direction one looked. Misty blows hung in the calm air, flukes lifted skyward and shed water in glistening cascades and several whales catapulted into the air in a full breach. The scene was entrancing, almost captivating, and we enjoyed it for a good long time, but, with many miles still to go, we eventually became northbound once more.
The mid to late afternoon was perfect weather for cruising, or napping, as we continued on. Pete Pederson eased us into activity around 5 pm with a slide-illustrated lecture on the moustached whales. It would have been natural to slide on into cocktail hour and recap before dinner but a couple of sharp-eyed guests on the bow spotted movement on the distant shore. Sure enough, two bears were having their own cocktail hour in the intertidal zone. We slowed, turned, and the opportunity for closer examination was provided by the skillful driving of the third mate. Today’s picture of a brown-colored black bear (Ursus americanus) was obtained by our on board video chronicler. The tan-colored snout and lack of a shoulder hump distinguish this bear from the true brown bear, Urus arctos, or grizzly.
Dinner time came and went while we continued to make progress towards Glacier Bay. We probably knocked off a good twenty more miles when, around 9 pm, killer whales were sighted. A trio of orcas swam close together near the ship while a more distant cow-calf pair shadowed us. By 10 pm the light had faded and with the orcas no longer in view we turned once again towards Glacier Bay. With a very full day behind us, this time I think we’re gonna make it.
