Poison Cove
Sometimes we’re reluctant to include photos of wildlife in these reports. We don’t mean to suggest that wildlife sightings are an everyday occurrence. Wildlife’s chancy, unpredictable. But perhaps that’s why sightings are so enjoyable. And a great sighting is something to savor for a lifetime; something to celebrate.
Today we traveled the deeply fjord-rent coast of British Columbia. We made our way up Mussel Inlet and anchored at the ominously named Poison Cove. The scenery was lovely, with lacy foliage of cedar, alder and hemlock rising, rank upon rank, to blanket imposing cliff sides.
The Sea Lion is small enough to slip into tight places, but we wanted an even more intimate experience, so we hopped into truly tiny boats. Motoring in Zodiacs or paddling kayaks, we rounded the corner into the next cove. Here the scenery was even more impressive. Great grey walls of rock soared skyward, marked by rhythmic striations, like rushing streams suddenly lithified, or as if raked by the claws of some colossal bear. Trees clung to the hillsides, rising and diminishing to a stunted alpine pelage at the skyline. The rich valley floor was at once quiet and bustling – gulls stood, contemplating silent pools, or dipped and dived into rapids, snatching tumbling salmon eggs. Eagles, stately or bedraggled, surveyed the scene from treetops or mudflats. But best of all, for us, were the bears.
Almost at first glance we found a dark brown grizzly, walking the shoreline. It turned into the grass, and seemed to be digging for angelica roots. But as we approached, we found a second bear, even closer. This bear, paler in color, had a lanky look; it was probably a young adult. Three Zodiacs and many kayaks gradually gathered along the shore. The bear seemed not alarmed, but perhaps a bit ambivalent about our place in the cove and his own. He walked the shore. He sat, legs sprawling, and eyed us. He crept into the water, as if trying to catch our scent at the waterline. Finally, the bear headed to the woods, snacked briefly on a few currants, and ambled into the brush. By this time, the first bear had neared. We watched it swim a small channel and walk to the forest edge. It was great fun to see the bear pulling down branches of wild crabapple trees and munching the dainty fruits.
Returning for a second round of boating, we found the same bear scavenging salmon left by the dropping tide. The bear was eating only the best parts of each salmon – you know, the brains and the skin! When at last we left, the bear was just where we had found it, plodding through the grass in search of tasty vegetation.
Back on the ship, we were pleased, after a dry morning, to see the rain begin to fall. We paused briefly at a mighty and many-tiered cataract, then continued our southbound journey.
Sometimes we’re reluctant to include photos of wildlife in these reports. We don’t mean to suggest that wildlife sightings are an everyday occurrence. Wildlife’s chancy, unpredictable. But perhaps that’s why sightings are so enjoyable. And a great sighting is something to savor for a lifetime; something to celebrate.
Today we traveled the deeply fjord-rent coast of British Columbia. We made our way up Mussel Inlet and anchored at the ominously named Poison Cove. The scenery was lovely, with lacy foliage of cedar, alder and hemlock rising, rank upon rank, to blanket imposing cliff sides.
The Sea Lion is small enough to slip into tight places, but we wanted an even more intimate experience, so we hopped into truly tiny boats. Motoring in Zodiacs or paddling kayaks, we rounded the corner into the next cove. Here the scenery was even more impressive. Great grey walls of rock soared skyward, marked by rhythmic striations, like rushing streams suddenly lithified, or as if raked by the claws of some colossal bear. Trees clung to the hillsides, rising and diminishing to a stunted alpine pelage at the skyline. The rich valley floor was at once quiet and bustling – gulls stood, contemplating silent pools, or dipped and dived into rapids, snatching tumbling salmon eggs. Eagles, stately or bedraggled, surveyed the scene from treetops or mudflats. But best of all, for us, were the bears.
Almost at first glance we found a dark brown grizzly, walking the shoreline. It turned into the grass, and seemed to be digging for angelica roots. But as we approached, we found a second bear, even closer. This bear, paler in color, had a lanky look; it was probably a young adult. Three Zodiacs and many kayaks gradually gathered along the shore. The bear seemed not alarmed, but perhaps a bit ambivalent about our place in the cove and his own. He walked the shore. He sat, legs sprawling, and eyed us. He crept into the water, as if trying to catch our scent at the waterline. Finally, the bear headed to the woods, snacked briefly on a few currants, and ambled into the brush. By this time, the first bear had neared. We watched it swim a small channel and walk to the forest edge. It was great fun to see the bear pulling down branches of wild crabapple trees and munching the dainty fruits.
Returning for a second round of boating, we found the same bear scavenging salmon left by the dropping tide. The bear was eating only the best parts of each salmon – you know, the brains and the skin! When at last we left, the bear was just where we had found it, plodding through the grass in search of tasty vegetation.
Back on the ship, we were pleased, after a dry morning, to see the rain begin to fall. We paused briefly at a mighty and many-tiered cataract, then continued our southbound journey.
