Pavlof Harbor/Chatham Strait
This morning after a brief pause to visit a traveling humpback, we turned into Pavlof Harbor, dropped the anchor, and set ashore. Hikers trekked in through the forest, sleuthing the pile of bones and feathers (A falcon? A hawk? What was its fate?) then the deer hair spread out in beneath an arch of hemlock roots (A bear kill later scavenged by other creatures?). Less grisly evidence of the residents of this place was tracked in the thick mud and chewed into the alder trees: beaver, mink, and Sitka black-tailed deer had walked here, perhaps this very day.
While walkers poked the intertidal, examining the subtle variations in periwinkle shells, kayakers worked their way up toward the base of a low but powerful waterfall. Green mats of algae swayed in the river current, and a blue heron stalked the shore.
Chatham Strait’s silvered waters became our afternoon route. There, we found six humpbacks scattered within view, all diving, feeding, and rising to breathe. The Sea Lion floated among them, a platform for our various lenses, eyes, and ears. Although not as dramatic as the seemingly endless breaching earlier in the trip, this quiet hour on the bow spent watching and listening allowed us a different view of Alaska’s wildness. Not tame, but nuanced in its presence.
This morning after a brief pause to visit a traveling humpback, we turned into Pavlof Harbor, dropped the anchor, and set ashore. Hikers trekked in through the forest, sleuthing the pile of bones and feathers (A falcon? A hawk? What was its fate?) then the deer hair spread out in beneath an arch of hemlock roots (A bear kill later scavenged by other creatures?). Less grisly evidence of the residents of this place was tracked in the thick mud and chewed into the alder trees: beaver, mink, and Sitka black-tailed deer had walked here, perhaps this very day.
While walkers poked the intertidal, examining the subtle variations in periwinkle shells, kayakers worked their way up toward the base of a low but powerful waterfall. Green mats of algae swayed in the river current, and a blue heron stalked the shore.
Chatham Strait’s silvered waters became our afternoon route. There, we found six humpbacks scattered within view, all diving, feeding, and rising to breathe. The Sea Lion floated among them, a platform for our various lenses, eyes, and ears. Although not as dramatic as the seemingly endless breaching earlier in the trip, this quiet hour on the bow spent watching and listening allowed us a different view of Alaska’s wildness. Not tame, but nuanced in its presence.
