It was absolutely gorgeous when we docked at our first port in Ketchikan, Alaska. The azure sky was clear and sharp, the sea sparkled, and the quaint little town nestled on pine-clad cliffs was hosting a blueberry festival. Picture perfect. We were ready to explore. That is until we stepped onto our balcony to admire the view and began to sweat. Peeling off the layers we had been advised to wear, we replaced them with the grubby short-sleeved T-shirts we had traveled in. Our adventures that day and every day we went ashore involved finding more summer-weather gear! Up to the day we disembarked in Seward for onward travel to Anchorage and home, the temperatures broke daily records. Our crew dusted off the sun loungers on the deck and ran out of sunblock!

We sailed up glacier-carved fjords where whales breach and eagles swoop. Black bears foraged at too far distance for my sight, but Chris was mesmerized by them.  We learned of Native American culture and admired towering totem poles. And yet, everywhere we went was mobbed with tourists who, like us, had come to get away from it all and be at one with nature. Small towns absorb up to a million visitors during the season; their attractive stores are packed with the same souvenir baseball caps, “gold-rush” jewelry, and packs of edible “bear poop.”

The environmental news is not all dispiriting. The ocean and rivers teem with glistering salmon, otters, and sea lions. Raptors, bear, and elk populations are all healthy,  and North America’s largest tidal glacier, the Hubbard, is actually increasing.

Click images to enlarge

This is in contrast to many other glaciers and is due to the vast extent of its snow catchment area high in the mountains. We were excited to hear it creak and boom as we sailed past, but we did not witness a major “calving“ where enormous icebergs fall from it into the bay.

Our visit to the Mendenhall Glacier was a different, sad story.  It’s on the outskirts of Juneau, one of the towns experiencing searing heat.  Displays at the visitors’ center show how much the glacier has retreated in just five years and, during our visit, one of its ice damns burst, later flooding parts of the town.

I’ve been thinking recently about how interdependent we all are. Many readers will know that we lost three family members this summer.  Each of them was staunchly independent until disability or old age forced them to depend on others.   And yet, although they could no longer interact as they had in earlier days, each brought joy to those who cared for them.   

Humpback whales are thriving in Alaskan waters; it’s wonderful to see.  Nonetheless, it is a consequence of many of the tidal glaciers retreating.  As they do so, they release minerals into the sea that nourish humpbacks, allowing them to prosper.  However, as ice melts into the ocean, the sea level rises and its salinity declines affecting those intolerant of such changes. Humpback whale dominance threatens other species, as do the changing oceanic conditions.  It’s all interdependent!

Nineteenth-century naturalist John Muir was a glacier “addict”  He was an early voice promoting the preservation of nature rather than its exploitation.  He said,

“When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.”

Let’s be more careful not to squander the world’s resources, and let’s refrain from too much “tugging”.

News Flash!

End Notes

Reading

Listening

South Sudanese Traditional Music

Poetry

The Thing Is
Ellen Bass