The first morning at base camp - view from Lisa's side of the tent...
view from mine. Temperature already in the high 60s.
My first sea kayak adventure complete with my EYC burgie. Note tee shirt. My drysuit is unzipped down to my waist and under the spray deck. The last time I would put on the hot drysuit during the entire trip.
Calm seas in Dickerson Bay.
The different colors of the ocean are not a camera editing tick. Sunlight and tide action on glacial silt changes the composition and color from deep sea blue to glacial silt turquoise.
After lunch travels.
View of our camp and the falls from out in the bay.
We are camped on a spit between Dickerson Bay and the Nellie Juan Glacier moraine lake. As soon as the sun was up, glacial ice calving could be heard booming louder than a jet, throughout the day. With each outflowing tide, ice bergs traveled at an amazing speed out the river between the bay and lake.
While paddling, we discussed going with the tide into the glacial moraine lake. Excitedly, I rushed across the bay into the river. I was determined to see the ice bergs in the glacial lake; the toe of the glacier and; the ice calving. Concerned about tidal current no one else followed me in. I was already caught in the in-rushing tide current when I noticed they were not behind me. I had let them know I was prepared to wait out the change of tide to come out in slack tide - even over night if necessary. I had my ever-present bear spray and bangers; dry suit; pile coat; winter hat; matches; food; and even my book should I get bored during the 6 hour wait.
What I found at the end of the river was magical. I had easily drifted into the lake and continued to ride the current into a lagoon with seals floating on ice bergs; otters, floating on their backs, feasting on salmon, another large waterfall coming down the side of the mountain into the lake; curious seals; salmon swimming everywhere; all sorts of birds; and best of all, only the sounds of nature.
I wanted to go to the end of the lake to see the glacier itself but without a knowledge of tides and steep granite lake sides, I decided to no venture into where I could possibly get trapped by a rising tide without any one around or able to get to me.
I did get brave and took out my camera from it's waterproof case all the while hoping that the seals checking me out were not interested in my kayak as a potential resting platform. Camera and I would definitely have taken a swim in the icy water.
I do have funny videos taken inside my camera case as I unsealed it and dug my camera out and another of me testing my paddle-less balance while focusing on the scene around me. I have no idea how the camera became set on movie mode or was triggered.
After about 1/2 hour of drifting around in bliss, I noted that the river was starting to white cap as it flowed into the lake. Since I was alone and not wanting to further upset the others, I decided to first try to paddle out. (The guide books mention it is impossible and I believe it). When the rip tried to take my paddle, I ferried to shore and got out for the long task of lining my boat to the bay - which was actually really neat. I got close-up views of the tidal marine life as I walked along the shore edge.
Lisa coming in after I emerged from the river. She had been watching for me from the other shore.
The waterfall and creek right behind our tents.
Merganser family
Impossible to photograph salmon so thick you could walk on their backs.
View of our camp from the creek.
Because of 15+ foot tidal changes, we had to carry the boats over slippery, ankle twisting, rocks, high up onto the shore whenever in camp and then back down to the bay to go kayaking. I am not really sure why we always launched and came in on low tide. It just turned out that way.
Everyone pitched in on carries, making lighter work of it.
Anticipating rain and cold, my beverage contribution for the week was cocoa with Yukon Jack. No takers in the 70 degree, 10pm weather.
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