Locomotoring

The reason we were in Sitka is because it was start of a 500 mile expedition. One with National Geographic and Lindblad, one of their smaller ships, Sea Lion, that is able to navigate south east Alaska’s inside passage. We started from Sitka and then made our way to Hanus Bay via Sergius Narrows and Peril Strait. From there, we moved to the northernmost entrance to the inside passage by Cross Sounds. We explored George Island and the Inian islands. Then we made our way to Haines and explored further. From Haines, we cruised south via Stephen’s passage into Holkham Bay, the entrance to Tracy Arm-Fords Terror Wilderness. We visited Williams Cove and South Sawyer Glacier. And finally landed in Juneau for our flight back. The forest that tied that 500 mile journey was Tongass.

We had the sun, not rain, beam down on the rainforest everyday. We were fortunate to see a dozen humpbacks feeding, a hundred sea lions frolicking and a thousand harbor seals napping. Being surrounded by the sound of whales as they gracefully breach and breathe was watching a dance of a lifetime. And then there is a big blue glacier that is perpetually calving, creating growlers, bergy bits and icebergs. The sound of a ten thousand year old glacier cracking is like a deep belly grumble. I wanted to give the ice a big hug, apologize for global warming and ask it to stay safe. And finally, there is fly fishing. Did someone say fly fishing takes skill? If it does, it is not in these parts. The water is turquoise blue from the glacier melt, the river is full of salmon, the salmon are weary and simply want to spawn and die. We see a mother bear with two cubs while we fish. We catch a salmon and we watch the mother bear catch a salmon. We would learn later that while there is a bear every square mile, they are not commonly observed on these short visits. Did I know that bears make trails? You bet, I didn’t.

In a trip like this, there are always a few regrets. Like sleeping through an aurora borealis. Or, not hiking the rainforest in rain. But here, I had a lot more regrets. I wanted to soar like a bald eagle and survey my land, breach the ocean like a whale, frolic around in arctic waters like a baby sea lion, snooze on blue ice like a harbor seal, be a salmon in search of my river, sit immobile on a rock like starfish. But most of all, I wanted to be a bear and walk the trail my mother and her mother made through the mossy rainforest floor that is bouncy as a silicone mat, protected by fifteen foot tall devil’s club and covered by snakeberries as far as eyes could see.

(Clearly, Octavia Butler’s patternist book, Wild Seed, has left a lot of wants in my mind!)

Coming out after three years of isolation, we were apprehensive. This was not our first expedition, but it was where nearly 80 of us were in a little ship. The names in this region are numerous, derived from First Nations, Russian, Tolkein (e.g., Hobbit Hole) and English and words like “terror” and “peril” are integral parts of these names. Maybe 200 years ago, these journeys were dangerous, now the nearest danger was being asked the 80th time what you did in your day job. Our expedition leader, John, had kayaked across Admiralty Island with only one other friend for company. Maybe someday, I will grow up to travel light.