There is a point on every trip to an exotic destination when the reality of the adventure that is about to begin finally arrives. After all the planning, packing, commercial airline flights, and taxis, the last leg of an Alaska bush trip has always got to be that defining moment. With our gear stacked to the roof of a four seater bush plane with engines roaring and knees up to the chin, we pass over a piedmont glacier the size of Rhode Island. This is what lies between our destination at Icy Bay and the closest civilization. The surface of the glacier looks like nothing I have ever seen before, surely belonging to that of another planet, with textures and patterns totally unfamiliar to my experience.
Our group is small consisting of 4 women. We are the quietly adventurous. Not in search of adrenaline thrills (at least not on this trip), but carefully chosen companions that can take care of themselves in the remote Alaska bush. Everyone must be capable of managing themselves and their gear in potentially multiple days of rain, torrential winds, and surf. The only protection for bears consists of an avoidance strategy and an air horn that fits in the palm of our hand.
It is hard to believe that one can be completely absorbed and entertained for nine days by the sights and sounds of Ice. In an era when our culture seems to be abdicating its opportunity to experience life through material addictions and reality TV shows, the constant display presented in Icy bay is one that must make all humans aware of what it is like to really have all your senses satisfyingly titillated. Under a stunning backdrop of one of the most impressive peaks in the world, Mt Saint Elias, the bay is surrounded by an incredible mass of tidewater and hanging glaciers. From this seemingly endless source of ancient water the glaciers produced a constant supply of ice in an endless variety of size and shapes. Every morning was a delight to see what fantastic displays of sculptures had been deposited on our beach the night before. The artful lines and textures were limitless. The ice deposited on the beaches each night seemed to be an endless blessing of creativity of the mythical Norse goddess of ice, The long Alaska days were both a blessing and a curse as on more then one occasion my day of shooting extended from 4:00 am until 11 pm. Many days the fiords of the bay we navigated were also filled with floating bergs ranging from two story massifs of hard cold blue ice to flocks of delicate translucent birdlike forms..
This visual magnificence is accompanied by a virtual symphony of ice in motion. The heartbeat is provided by the nearly constant calving of the glaciers producing thunderous and echoing roars and booms. The bergs accompany this beat with cracking, crashing and splashing as the bergs continually recreate themselves into smaller pieces. And finally layered on top is a delicate rice crispy crackle and drip as the bergs melt and expand. These sounds lulled us to sleep every night and greeted us every morning. making us infinitely aware of the life of nature surrounding us.
The terrain in Icy bay not covered in ice is obviously newly formed, consisting of largely unvegetated and erosive unconsolidated silt and sands. This creates a rather uncharacteristic badlands type terrain of steep slopes and ravines. This also creates a large quantity of expansive beaches frequently supporting a virtually garden of fireweed lupine, and other wildflowers and grasses. On these pristine beaches it often seemed even footprints were too much to leave behind from our visit, and we could only take comfort that probably the typical Alaska weather would soon erase our impact.
In a lifetime spend paddling a variety of watercrafts, usually the fastest boats are uncomfortable, and comfortable boats are the slowest. A 1970s Klepper folding kayak has the unique distinction of being not only one of the slowest boats I have ever paddled but one of the most excruciatingly uncomfortable. The top of the boat hit my armpits, and there are no structural components in the boat for either foot or back rests. I was finally able to figure out how to use the gear I was carrying to build a somewhat adequate support structure under and around my body. Nonetheless we covered approximately 45 miles throughout our trip, and all the deficiencies in the boat were ultimately forgiven for being our magic carpet in this paradise. We interspersed our paddling with long day hikes to relive our cramped flexors and backs and with the beautiful whether we were blessed with woke each day with renewed energy regardless of the activities the day before. When the bush plane arrived to carry us away from this magic paradise of ice, it seemed time had almost stopped for 9 days. Few visitors ever see the rawness and beauty of such a remote place and I count myself lucky to be one of the few.
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