A glorious glacier

Wednesday, July 11, 2007
VALDEZ, ALASKA — When we went yesterday to book today’s tour of Prince William Sound, we had originally wanted the shorter, six-hour trip, but that tour was fully booked. Instead, they offered the nine and a half-hour tour at a discount, so we agreed to take it. It turned out to be a wonderful stroke of luck!
While we were waiting for the bus to come and take us to the boat, and we chatted with a couple whose accent told us they must be francophones. It turned out that Huguette and Yvon come from Montreal, so we carried on in French with them for the rest of the day. They were a delightful pair!
Even before we got out of the harbour, we spotted two sea lions lounging at the base of a large bouy. We also saw the oil tanker Prince William Sound at the mouth of the pipeline taking on a load of crude to take away for refinement, and a number of salmon fishing boats with their nets cast wide. As we watched them transfer the fish to larger collector vessels, we could see the gleaming silver fish tumbling into the hold.
Our route was to take us up two different fjords to see two glaciers, and as we approached the first, we could see white specks floating against the backdrop of the far shore. These were chunks of ice — some of them quite large — that had broken free from the glacier. Some were white with black dirty bits, while others were a beautiful turquoise blue; the captain explained that the coloured ones were more densely packed. The captain navigated slowly between these bits to get close as he could get to the face of the Columbia Glacier. Because there were so many chunks, we had to hang back at some distance. Still, we were impressed by the Columbia’s grandeur.
As we headed back out to the sound, we spotted the white head of a bald eagle against the dark green forest as it perched high on a pine tree. The captain also pointed out some Dall’s porpoises racing alongside us, but all I could see was a flash of black and white for an instant and then they were gone.
Soon we were headed into the second fjord. We had gone inside to sit down and enjoy the free hot tea and coffee they were serving. The wind and the spray had chilled us, despite our warm clothing. A few minutes later I looked up and saw through the window the blue-green wall of the Meares Glacier looming ahead — it filled the whole window! We were back out on the deck in an instant. The captain had shut off the motor so we could drift slowly toward the glacier, and everyone was just standing agape in silent awe at the scene in front of us.
We were about a quarter of a mile away, but it felt like we could touch it. The glacier wall was the height of a skyscraper and a mile wide. Great, vertical cracks were visible all along it, and its colours ranged from pure white to turquoise to deep blue. Floating in front of it were chunks and bergy bits, and as we watched we could hear cracks and rumbles coming from the face. Then a chunk as big as a car broke free and fell down, down, down to the water in a huge grey splash. We were spellbound!
Over the next 20 minutes as we drifted, we saw more pieces fall. One of the biggest pieces to come off must have been the size of a small apartment building, and it cracked and rumbled like thunder as it slowly gave way and crashed in a huge plume of spray. Then we saw the wave it had created! The chunks of ice near it were bobbing up and down, and a dark crease along the water was headed in our direction. Two or three minutes later the boat heaved up, dropped and heaved again as successive waves from this huge iceberg passed through our position.
We could see by the deep cracks on either side of one part of the ice face that another monster piece would soon be coming down. The captain and crew were glued to the windows on the upper deck, as fascinated as we were. He said we’d hang around for another five minutes or so, but it must have been at least 15 that we remained, silently drifting, watching and listening. More cracking noises and small chunks let go and fell. Then the mother of all hunks gave way and everyone gasped and pointed! A mountain of blue ice collapsed in slow motion and we heard a profound rumbling as it plummeted into the deep. At that point, the captain started up the engine again and we retreated as a miniature tsunami headed our way. It will be a long time before I forget what we saw.
Later I heard a crew member say this was the best display of glacier "calving" that they had seen this season, so we felt lucky indeed.
The wonders of nature were not over yet! Back again in open water, our sharp-eyed captain directed our gaze off to the left where plumes of spray indicated whales were present. There were two hump-back whale fins skimming above the surface and disappearing again. We followed their path with binoculars trained until they reappeared. Then they arched their backs to dive deep, and we saw the length of their grey bodies curve up, with their wing-like tails appearing last and slipping out of sight! Yvon managed, amazingly, to capture the tail on his digital camera. He was just thrilled as he showed us his prize picture. In all, we spotted five or six whales.
Next, we came close to the shore at the favourite resting spot for local sea lions. At first we saw half a dozen brown lumps lounging on the rocky shore. A little further on there were about 20 of them. Lastly, we saw about 200 carpeting a large rocky beach, lolling about, exchanging bites and nips or galumphing awkwardly over one another for a better spot. All the while we could hear them grunting noisily at one another. It sounded like a huge burping session!
Somewhere in between all the wonderful sights (including some adorable puffins and sea otters), we also were served a lovely hot lunch, and, on the return journey, delicious cups of steaming clam chowder. The crew were so helpful and friendly, even clearing the water-streaked windows with squeejees from time to time for our viewing pleasure. As we sailed back in to Valdez harbour, the sun had finally broken through the clouds, giving us a warm welcome back ashore at the end of a truly memorable day.