Day 7, August 6, Friday
The morning was spent on a long "intrepid" walk on Baranoff Island. As William told us more than once, the brown, or grizzly bears are exclusively on the "ABC" islands, that is, islands whose names begin with A, B or C. I don't remember A and C, but evidently the only kind of bear on Baranoff is the grizzly. There were about 15 "intrepid" walkers, and we made our way into very tall grass, most of us wearing waterproof pants as well as our boots, to keep the wet off our clothes. There were a few mosquitoes, but not many once we got out of the tall grass. We eventually made our way to the mouth of the freshwater river, but didn't see any salmon because it quickly became too deep and too silty.
William pointed out bear and eagle tracks clearly imprinted in the gray river sand, and we saw lots of eagle feathers, large and impressive and tiny and soft and downy. The eagle tracks were quite large, and it is against the law even to pick up loose feathers, so we left them behind.
Eagle Tracks in the River Sand
William estimated this tree to be approximately 200 years old, felled by beaver.
The walk became very strenuous when the river got too deep to try to walk in, and the banks totally disappeared. Given no alternative, we turned inland, just striking out into the dense woods, full of Devil's Club and heavy undergrowth. We quickly came across a huge tree that had been expertly felled by a beaver. William said the tree was probably a couple of hundred years old, then demonstrated how the beavers chew, sideways, almost eating the bark as he did. Not surprising, actually. William seemed willing to eat almost anything in the woods, although the other naturalists (Illiana) commented that William frequently complained of stomachaches after some of these walks.
Every once in awhile we would reach an interior clearing, with the forest tall and lush all around us, full of such intense color. The browns ranged from a deep chocolate to a wonderful near-red, and the greens -- oh, my. The soft ferns were a gentle color, but some of the mosses were almost iridescent. The pines of the Sitka spruce trees were emerald green on the top, but a silver-blue underneath.
There were a few moments as we crawled and climbed and slipped and stumbled that it seemed possible that we were lost in the impenetrable rain forest, but it was a silly fear. William got turned around once or twice, but we all eventually ended up back where we started, sweaty and happily worn out, among the waist-high green, spiky grasses and small wildflowers near the bank.
After making sure we had all made it back on board, the ship made its way to Red Bluff Inlet, so called because of a craggy big bluff at its entrance that was shot through with iron deposits, staining the rocks red and limiting the amount of growth, so that it was a massive, bare rock. The ship had to maneuver into areas that truly looked too narrow to navigate, but once we were there, it was utterly calm and serenely beautiful. They lowered the zodiacs and took us out in groups in the late afternoon, pausing in the relatively shallow water to see massive schools of salmon, from the little fry size all the way up to huge, mature specimens. The water was constantly roiling with jumping fish, splashing and plopping back in. Sometimes one fish would exuberantly jump two or three times in a row, or seeming to almost skim along the water as it jumped again and again.
We spotted a huge lionshead jellyfish below the surface. It was bizarrely beautiful, in various shades of white, like an enormous flower. Returning to the ship, we paused at a long, torrential waterfall that fell in cascades all the way down the mountain. One log had fallen across a chasm, looking like a carefully constructed footbridge for small animals, and who knows? Maybe it was.
The last night together, the captain had his cocktail party. He's such a cutie. Can't be more than about 35 years old, tall and fair and very handsome, especially in his uniform. He had been in jeans and teeshirts most of the week, helping the zodiac drivers ferry us all around, wearing those long waders that look like the illustrations from "Puss'n Boots."
The group was jolly and had developed a warm camaraderie after our week together. A lot of addresses were exchanged. We again had dinner with Marjorie and Kay and Hattie. I love those two ladies. So funny and sweet and don't take themselves terribly seriously at all, and yet they let those "thee"s and "thou"s drop from time to time in casual conversation.