We approached the longest and most active tidewater glacier in North America, Hubbard Glacier. We could see it for miles away, as our ship maneuvered through the small icebergs strewn throughout Yakutat Bay. It was very cold, it felt like we were approaching the Ross Ice Shelf in Antarctica. We stood in the very front of the ship, with the wind, rain and snow in our face, and our adrenalin pumping strong. Sea otters played among the bluish glacial ice chunks, watching the large ship pass. The boat you see in the following picture, which looks like a small ferry, is actually a huge cruise ship, our sister ship the Regal Princess. It had spent the morning near the glacier, now it was leaving and it'd be our turn. That was the last sign of civilization we saw that day.
Scale is hard to judge in Alaska. Shapes so huge and vast that objects always look closer than they actually are. In the following picture, we're probably a mile from the glacier face. Hubbard Glacier is 76 miles long, and over 8 miles wide at its widest point. The face of the glacier was over 3 miles wide, and 300 feet high! I kept imagining miles of waterfront skyscrapers to give me an idea of the size.
Yes the ice is blue! Having formed under tremendous pressure these special ice crystals reflect blue light. It’s very cool. This picture is an accurate representation.
A tidewater glacier is one that reaches ocean waters. As the glacier "flows" out to sea, several feet per day, and as the tide fluctuates, tremendous forces cause the glacier to creak, and pop, and moan. It almost seems alive. Eventually built up stresses are relieved as huge chunks of ice break away, and fall into the bay. This is known as "calving", and is a very spectacular sight to witness. Ice the size of a bus may tumble several hundred feet, with a small avalanche of other material trailing behind. It crashes into the water making a splash that may be 200 feet high, creating a large wake.
The ship deck was filled with passengers, with cameras and camcorders ready for action. We came to the right place, since Hubbard is known as the most active glacier in North America, earning the nickname "The Galloping Glacier". The face of the glacier more than filled our field of view, extending several miles in either direction. Everyone stood attentive, and would quickly turn to face any cracking or popping noises. Many sounds would be a false alarm. Then there'd be a thunderous roar, a loud deep rumble, almost exactly like thunder. It could be a big one. People would locate it, let out a cheer, and record what was left of the calving event for posterity.
Just as the ship was starting to pull away from the glacier, an incredible calving occurred. Our ships naturalist had been bringing people to the glaciers for over 10 years, and he had never seen anything as remarkable. A giant section of the glacier gradually disappeared before our eyes. The entire event must have lasted a minute, as one gigantic chunk after another broke away and crashed into the bay. Peoples mouths hung open, as they couldn't believe what was unfolding before them. We were very lucky indeed.
On average, Alaska's glaciers are gradually disappearing. They've been melting, and receding since the end of the last Ice Age, 10 thousand years ago. Regardless if man-made global warming exists, the only thing that could save them would be another Ice Age. Though, not all glaciers are getting smaller. Hubbard Glacier is actually advancing, and the local climate is several degrees colder than 50 years ago.
Some things in life you understand and think, "That sounds cool". But you really have no idea until you experience it. I put glaciers in that category. They really were way more awesome than I had expected. We really liked the bears at Neets Bay, but I rate Hubbard Glacier equally high.