Fox Creek and Elfin Cove, Alaska
Fox Creek empties into the sea just across from Shaw Island, a rocky mound blanketed with moss and trees. Kayaks slipped through ropes of bull kelp and paralleled the shore. The stillness was broken only by the dip of paddles, the rolling backs of harbor porpoises, and a few sea otters that curiously looked our way.
In the meantime, hikers pushed through a dense stand of beach rye grass to reach the young spruce forest beyond. Many climbed to a muskeg, a bonsai garden, where dwarfed pines and carnivorous sundews grew up through a carpet of sphagnum moss. Others discovered a perennial bear trail, a path with depressions left by generations of bruins traveling the same route year after year.
By early afternoon, the ship lay at anchor off the quaint community of Elfin Cove. Zodiacs zipped us ashore to the dock. This remote village is accessible only by float plane and boat, but it was bustling with activity today. Fishing boats like those in the photo choked the sheltered harbor, and their occupants readied the gear and tended to needed repairs. We wandered the elevated boardwalks that linked the houses, shops, and fishing lodges. No roads can be found here, no theaters, and no malls. Only twelve individuals overwintered last season, although the population rises considerably during the summer. A few dogs welcomed us ashore and later bade us adieu as we left this tiny piece of Alaska behind and headed off towards new adventures.
Fox Creek empties into the sea just across from Shaw Island, a rocky mound blanketed with moss and trees. Kayaks slipped through ropes of bull kelp and paralleled the shore. The stillness was broken only by the dip of paddles, the rolling backs of harbor porpoises, and a few sea otters that curiously looked our way.
In the meantime, hikers pushed through a dense stand of beach rye grass to reach the young spruce forest beyond. Many climbed to a muskeg, a bonsai garden, where dwarfed pines and carnivorous sundews grew up through a carpet of sphagnum moss. Others discovered a perennial bear trail, a path with depressions left by generations of bruins traveling the same route year after year.
By early afternoon, the ship lay at anchor off the quaint community of Elfin Cove. Zodiacs zipped us ashore to the dock. This remote village is accessible only by float plane and boat, but it was bustling with activity today. Fishing boats like those in the photo choked the sheltered harbor, and their occupants readied the gear and tended to needed repairs. We wandered the elevated boardwalks that linked the houses, shops, and fishing lodges. No roads can be found here, no theaters, and no malls. Only twelve individuals overwintered last season, although the population rises considerably during the summer. A few dogs welcomed us ashore and later bade us adieu as we left this tiny piece of Alaska behind and headed off towards new adventures.
