A slew of seals at LeConte Glacier

The blue icebergs bobbed and floated seductively, dangerous but enticing, clues that somewhere upstream lay a glacier.  But in Southeast Alaska, navigating a field of icebergs field is dangerous is any season, all the more so in November, with its short days and chilly temperatures.

Icebergs still cluster around the mouth of LeConte Bay as they did in 1879 when John Muir visited this region. When we visited, This one was especially striking.

Icebergs still cluster around the mouth of LeConte Bay as they did in 1879 when John Muir visited this region. Then, the glacier reached almost to the head of the bay.

But back in 1879, naturalist John Muir, being Muir, would not be dissuaded.  This was a man completing a canoe voyage of several hundred miles, in November, in Alaska. After several weeks of exploring southeast Alaska, Muir was  heading back to Fort Wrangell with Captain Toyatte, his Stickeen Indian guide, and several others.   As their party passed between a headland and the opening of Wrangell Narrows, the river of icebergs and floes floating out of the mountains intrigued Muir.  He wanted to follow the trail, to see the legendary Thunder Glacier for himself.

Captain Toyatte, knowing the hazards well, issued a strong protest. The icebergs might upset the canoe, tossing them and all their gear into the water. At worst, they would drown in the icy water; at best, they might make their way to a wilderness shore with no gear, food, matches, or way of transport.

But Muir, being Muir, kept pushing. “Oh, never fear, Toyatte,” he said. “You know we are always lucky–the weather is good. I only want to see the Thunder Glacier for a few minutes, and should the bergs be packed dangerously close, I promise to turn back and wait until next summer.”

Reluctantly, Toyatte paddled into icebergs.  The glacier, Muir said, was “one of the most imposing of the first-class glaciers I had as yet seen…..a fine triumphant close for our season’s ice work.”  

Because of the dense pack of bergs, Muir observed the glacier at a distance of two miles. We were lucky, and were able to come with a half-mile (or maybe even a bit closer)

Approaching LeConte Glacier.  We stayed a good distance from the glacier, as room-sized chunks of ice calving from the face create waves that can easily swamp a small boat.

Approaching LeConte Glacier. We stayed a good distance from the glacier, as room-sized chunks of ice calving from the face create waves that can easily swamp a small boat. LeConte is also known for “shooters,” icebergs that break off the face underwater and then shoot upwards.

As for John Muir, visiting LeConte Glacier, for us, was both an afterthought and a triumphant close to our stay in Wrangell, Alaska.  The bears at AnAn Bear Observatory had drawn us here, and we also planned to cruise up the Stikine River. Why not visit the  glacier while we were there?

Like Toyatte, I felt some trepidation, revolving around my credit card bill.  But when I would get to Wrangell again? We signed on.

I am so glad that we did.  LeConte Glacier, named in 1887  for Muir’s close friend, Joseph LeConte, a geologist at the University of California in Berkeley, was every bit as imposing as Muir described it. (The glacier was named by Navy Commander Charles. M. Thomas who conducted the first official surveys several years after Muir’s visit).

Although the glacier is a regular destination for small boats from Petersburg and Wrangell, LeConte is tucked away in a lesser-visited region of Southeast Alaska.  Thus, visitors can enjoy its splendors in relative solitude — we saw only one other boat (briefly) on the day we visited — and its huge population of seals, more than 2,000 of which live in the fjord.

The seals of LeConte Bay. More than 2,000 make the bay (which is more of fjord) their home.

The seals of LeConte Bay. More than 2,000 make the bay (which is more of fjord) their home.

For the non-glaciologist, glaciers are almost impossible to comprehend: LeConte stretches back 21 miles into the mountains and in places is a mile deep.   Although LeConte, the most southern tidewater glacier in southeast Alaska, has retreated 2.5 miles since 1887, it has both receded and moved forward in the past 30 years, and scientists regard it as stable (that is, it may recede one year but will move forward in another).

The tidewater is why the Tlingit Indians gave it the name, Hutli, which Muir translates as “Big Thunder.”  According to Muir, the derived from a mythical bird that produced sounds of thunder when it flapped its wings.  And LeConte Glacier makes big thunder, sometimes many times a day, when house-sized chunks of ice calve from its face and drop into the fjord, as in this video:

The glacier was magnificent, awe-inspiring and beautiful.  The seals were a very thick layer of icing on an already rich cake.  Amidst all the seals, my Seal was in heaven.

Our daylong trip to LeConte also included a stop in the fishing village of Petersburg. I’d been here once before on a dark 2 a.m. ferry stop, so I enjoyed strolling around in daylight.

Petersburg, Alaska, was established by Norwegian immigrants.  Many touches of Norway are evident. We stopped here for a couple of hours but easily could have enjoyed more time here.

Petersburg, Alaska, which had been the site of Tlingit summer fishing camp for centuries, was settled by Norwegian immigrants in the late 19th century. Many touches of Norway are evident. We stopped here for a couple of hours but easily could have enjoyed more time here.

Reading John Muir is not for the faint of heart, as his 19th century prose is dense and wandering.  Even so, I’ll dare to conclude with his 1879 conclusion on Alaska:

To the lover of pure wildness Alaska is one of the most wonderful countries in the world. No excursion that I know of may be made into any other American wilderness where so marvelous an abundance of noble, newborn scenery is so charmingly brought to view as on the trip through the Alexander Archipelago to Fort Wrangell and Sitka. Gazing from the deck of the steamer, one is borne smoothly over calm blue waters, through the midst of countless forest-clad islands… nearly all the whole long way is on inland waters that are about as waveless as rivers and lakes. So numerous are the islands that they seem to have been sown broadcast; long tapering vistas between the largest of them open in every direction.

Although I probably could use fewer words, I couldn’t have said it better myself.

(John Muir’s book, Travels in Alaska, is available in multiple formats at Gutenburg.org, and also readily available in print).

Wrangell and Petersburg Resources

Visitor info for Petersburg can be found at the Chamber of Commerce.

For more details on LeConte Glacier, see Pat Roppel’s 2013 article, Southeast history: LeConte Glacier, in Capital City Weekly (a Juneau newspaper).

From Wrangell, we visited LeConte Glacier in a jet boat with Brenda  Schwartz Yeager of Alaska Charters and Adventures.  There are several similar outfitters in Wrangell and Petersburg.

In Wrangell, the lumber industry ruled for many years, but today, fishing and tourism keep the town going.  Large cruise ships can’t visit Wrangell (a plus, in my opinion) although several smaller adventure-type cruises visited where we were in town.

We stayed in a roomy suite at the Wandering Channel Bed & Breakfast.  The Stikine Inn is a full-service hotel, with a good restaurant.  The Wrangell town website lists all lodging establishments.  You don’t need a car in Wrangell unless you want to explore more of the roads and trails of the Wrangell Island.  A daily Alaska Airlines flight provides service from Seattle or Juneau.

 

Bears, bears everywhere: AnAn Alaska adventure

From the platform, we could see the drama at the outhouse unfolding, predictably, almost comically, if not for the fact that the climax could be a dangerous human-bear encounter.

The older gentleman had scurried across the boardwalk to the outhouse, about 100 feet away from the viewing platform. Once he closed the door behind him, a large male black bear ambled out of the woods and approached the outhouse.  On the other side, a second bear climbed up the creek bank and began to shuffle towards the same location.

You too could be trapped in the outhouse at AnAn Bear Observatory -- but probably only for a few minutes.

You too could be trapped in the outhouse at AnAn Bear Observatory — but probably only for a few minutes.

Inside the outhouse, the occupant had no idea that he was surrounded on all sides by very large black bears.  If he looked out the peephole, he wouldn’t be able to see the bears.  People being people, he probably had half-listened to the ranger’s instructions to watch for the “all-clear” signal before exiting the outhouse.  That was the purpose of the peephole — to watch for the signal, not to spot bears.

Upon opening the door, he came face to face with Bear #2.  Quickly, he shut the down as the ranger began to shout. “Stay in the outhouse. DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR! Do not open the door until I give the ‘all clear’ sign.”

This time, he listened.  And waited for the bears to do their thing, that is, to amble along. They had no interest in the outhouse; to them, it was just part of the scenery, like the man and the rest of us on the platform.

At last, the ranger gave the “all-clear”.  The man rescued himself from the outhouse (used by 60 or so people each day).  Later, he smiled when we teased him about his adventure.

Just another ordinary extraordinary day at the AnAn Creek Bear Observatory in the Tongass National Forest, near Wrangell, in southeast Alaska.

Both black and brown (grizzly) bears have been coming for eons to AnAn Creek in July and August to eat spawning salmon.  For many years, this locale was known mostly to Wrangell locals as THE place to see bears. But about 20 years ago, when visitors started to heavily discover AnAn, the U.S. Forest Service began to actively manage the site to prevent human-bear problems.

During spawning season, a permit system limits visitors t0 60 per day.  A small boat is needed to get to the AnAn trailhead, so most visitors come with a guide.  At the trailhead, a ranger or guide leads visitors up the half-mile trail to the viewing “platform.”

“Platform” is just that: a platform, surrounded by a waist-high fence that bears could easily climb across or squeeze through if they were so inclined.  These are not tame bears, but hungry ones here to stuff themselves with as salmon. At times, bears come so close to the fence that a dumb person could reach out and touch them.  Rangers quickly move people — and their cameras — back from the fence if bears approach it.

On the magical morning that I spent with my son (The Seal) and friend Elizabeth at AnAn in August, we saw at least 15 different black bears doing their thing: killing and eating salmon, ambling to and from the forest, sniffing at the outhouse.

Each bear had its own preferences and ways of doing things. One liked to grab a salmon, take a couple of big bites, then dip into the creek for a fresh meal. Another would bring his catch up to a small knoll overlooking the creek and eat the entire fish while keeping eye on the world around him.  A third liked to eat his salmon in privacy, in a little nook made from big boulders on the side of the creek.

Especially memorable was the visit of a mama bear and her cub, as these photos illustrate.

Mama Bear and her cub ambled out of the woods and checked out the situation just below the platform, then decided to climb back up the bank.

Mama Bear and her cub ambled out of the woods and checked out the situation just below the platform, then decided to climb back up the bank.

Baby Bear became interested in a half-eaten salmon on the outhouse boardwalk, and lost track of its mother.  When he looked up from the fish and realized mother was gone, he began to look for a place to hide and found this tree limb behind the outhouse.

Baby Bear became interested in a half-eaten salmon on the outhouse boardwalk, and lost track of its mother. When he looked up from the fish and realized mother was gone, he began to look for a place to hide and found this downed tree behind the outhouse.

Mama Bear returned with lunch and couldn't find her cub.  She began to look around and eventually spied the cub in the forest.

Mama Bear returned with lunch and couldn’t find her cub. She began to look around and eventually spied the cub in the forest.

AnAn is the only bear viewing place in Alaska where visitors can see both brown and black bears feeding in the same location at the same time. However, when we visited, we “only” saw black bears.  The brown bears must have been off eating berries, or maybe were eating on a later shift.

Despite the fact that AnAn is teeming with bears in close proximity to people (including those trips to the outhouse), no humans have been attacked by a bear in the 20 years of Forest Service management, although at least one bear has been killed at AnAn when it charged a human.   I don’t know the details of the incident, but I suspect the charge had more to do with human stupidity (getting a good photo) than predatory bear behavior.

However, our guide, Brenda Yeager, carried both bear spray and a gun on the hike up to the platform, as did the ranger at the trailhead.

I’ve long had a love-hate relationship with bears.  Or maybe love-fear relationship is a better way to describe it.  I’m fascinated by bears and always hope to see one, safely, at a distance.

But I never sleep well in a tent if I know bears might be around.  I worked in Yellowstone during a summer when a bear pulled a hiker from her tent and ate her. A few years later,  I woke up in a tent in Alaska’s Brooks Range to the sound of something large brushing up against the tent.  And yes, it was a bear.  And yes, my heart pounded with fear and adrenaline, even though it was a black bear, not a grizzly.

That bear got into our group’s food supply (locked in an allegedly bear-proof barrel) and began to settle in for a long munch until we managed to drive it off with a couple of well-placed rocks targeted at its rump.  But we didn’t stick around either, packing up our tents at about 3 a.m. so that we could begin putting as much distance as possible  between us and the bear.

At AnAn, the opportunity to view bears up close in what felt like very safe circumstances was a magical, almost mythical opportunity.  I wouldn’t even have minded being trapped in the outhouse — as long as I didn’t have to sleep inside.

More bears:  Alaska really is teeming with bears, and they come out of the forest during salmon season.

On our first day in Alaska, in Juneau, the Seal and I headed out in the early evening to Mendenhall Glacier to take in the glacier after all the cruise-ship crowds had departed.  On our way out, we took a short stroll on the bear-viewing walkway around Steep Creek. Within minutes, (as seen in the video below) we had seen our first bear, killing and eating a salmon.

The bears grab all the headlines but the salmon are just as beautiful, here in the clear shallow waters of Steep Creek, Juneau.

Wrangell Resources

From Wrangell, we visited AnAn in a jet boat with Brenda  Yeager of Alaska Charters and Adventures.  There are several similar outfitters in Wrangell, all reputable. We chose to go with the Yeagers because they specialize in smaller groups.

AnAn probably isn’t the best destination for small children because they may get bored and hungry during the several hours most outfitters spend at the platform. No food is allowed on the trail or at the platform.

In Wrangell, the lumber industry ruled for many years, but today, fishing and tourism keep the town going.  Large cruise ships can’t visit Wrangell (a plus, in my opinion) although several smaller adventure-type cruises visited where we were in town.

We stayed in a roomy suite at the Wandering Channel Bed & Breakfast.  The Stikine Inn is a full-service hotel, with a good restaurant.  The Wrangell town website lists all lodging establishments.  You don’t need a car in Wrangell unless you want to explore more of the roads and trails of the Wrangell Island.  A daily Alaska Airlines flight provides service from Seattle or Juneau.