The Summer Solstice – Chatham Strait, Alaska
After moving northward during the night, we awoke in Chatham Strait, the body of water that separates Admiralty and Baranof Islands. With a hot cup of coffee adding its steam to the morning mist, we headed to the foredeck to greet the morning. The ship slowed, and suddenly a mighty “whoosh” interrupted the morning tranquility. A humpback whale surfaced not fifty meters from the Sea Lion. Scanning over the horizon, we could see spouts of other feeding whales. These humpbacks spent their winter in the waters around Hawaii, where the females gave birth to their 16-foot long, two-ton young. They ate rather little in those warm but relatively unproductive waters; the females convert their own body reserves into rich milk to feed the young. Now they have returned to the productive seas of Alaska, where the females will replenish their precious reserves of blubber, and the young will grow until they become independent. In fact, much of their annual feeding is concentrated into the four months that they are in Alaskan waters. Our whales were busy with that task, coming to the surface to breathe five or six times, then diving below to engulf giant gulps of water and filter out the food – krill or small schooling fish – using their fringed baleen plates. At each dive they threw their flukes into the air, showing us the pattern of black and white markings by which individual whales can be identified. All of these details and many more were made clear in Berit Solstad’s presentation on the marine mammals of Alaska.
Our afternoon destination was Pavlof Harbor, on the east side of Chichagof Island (the “C” of Southeast Alaska’s “ABC Islands”.) Once, Aleut hunters were enslaved by the Russians and brought here with their skin kayaks to take the valuable pelts of sea otters. Today, our fleet of colorful kayaks made its appearance and we glided over the calm water of a protected cove, finding a new way to explore the beauty of Alaska. On shore, we walked along the beach fringe and entered the forest. Featured attractions included a beaver dam, a bear “scratching tree” adorned with fur, and several plant species that are dependent, in part or whole, upon others for their sustenance: two species (paintbrush and groundcone) that steal resources from the roots of other plants, and two species (pinesap and the delicate coralroot orchid shown above) that rely on decomposing dead organic matter. Our walk proceeded along a salmon stream where, somehow, the salmon make their way up a rushing cascade to reach spawning sites above. The returning salmon bring nutrients from the sea and thus, in their death, they contribute to the life of the forest.
After another fine dinner many of us had retired early, when our Expedition Leader’s voice called us one more time. Killer whales (also called Orca) were spotted from the bridge. With little concern for apparel we rushed to the deck. Six to eight killer whales were widely scattered around us, rising frequently to breath. Their group structure and behavior, and the shape of the dorsal fins of two mature males suggested to us that these were of the fish-eating, “resident” type. At about 11:00 PM we succumbed to the advancing darkness and left the whales to move on, happily content with another magical day in Southeast Alaska.
After moving northward during the night, we awoke in Chatham Strait, the body of water that separates Admiralty and Baranof Islands. With a hot cup of coffee adding its steam to the morning mist, we headed to the foredeck to greet the morning. The ship slowed, and suddenly a mighty “whoosh” interrupted the morning tranquility. A humpback whale surfaced not fifty meters from the Sea Lion. Scanning over the horizon, we could see spouts of other feeding whales. These humpbacks spent their winter in the waters around Hawaii, where the females gave birth to their 16-foot long, two-ton young. They ate rather little in those warm but relatively unproductive waters; the females convert their own body reserves into rich milk to feed the young. Now they have returned to the productive seas of Alaska, where the females will replenish their precious reserves of blubber, and the young will grow until they become independent. In fact, much of their annual feeding is concentrated into the four months that they are in Alaskan waters. Our whales were busy with that task, coming to the surface to breathe five or six times, then diving below to engulf giant gulps of water and filter out the food – krill or small schooling fish – using their fringed baleen plates. At each dive they threw their flukes into the air, showing us the pattern of black and white markings by which individual whales can be identified. All of these details and many more were made clear in Berit Solstad’s presentation on the marine mammals of Alaska.
Our afternoon destination was Pavlof Harbor, on the east side of Chichagof Island (the “C” of Southeast Alaska’s “ABC Islands”.) Once, Aleut hunters were enslaved by the Russians and brought here with their skin kayaks to take the valuable pelts of sea otters. Today, our fleet of colorful kayaks made its appearance and we glided over the calm water of a protected cove, finding a new way to explore the beauty of Alaska. On shore, we walked along the beach fringe and entered the forest. Featured attractions included a beaver dam, a bear “scratching tree” adorned with fur, and several plant species that are dependent, in part or whole, upon others for their sustenance: two species (paintbrush and groundcone) that steal resources from the roots of other plants, and two species (pinesap and the delicate coralroot orchid shown above) that rely on decomposing dead organic matter. Our walk proceeded along a salmon stream where, somehow, the salmon make their way up a rushing cascade to reach spawning sites above. The returning salmon bring nutrients from the sea and thus, in their death, they contribute to the life of the forest.
After another fine dinner many of us had retired early, when our Expedition Leader’s voice called us one more time. Killer whales (also called Orca) were spotted from the bridge. With little concern for apparel we rushed to the deck. Six to eight killer whales were widely scattered around us, rising frequently to breath. Their group structure and behavior, and the shape of the dorsal fins of two mature males suggested to us that these were of the fish-eating, “resident” type. At about 11:00 PM we succumbed to the advancing darkness and left the whales to move on, happily content with another magical day in Southeast Alaska.
