Tracy Arm.  All my friends have heard me wax rhapsodic about its spectacular beauty--the sheer 1,000 foot cliffs, hundreds of plummeting waterfalls, U-shaped valleys, hanging glaciers, sky blue ice, stunning tidewater glaciers, brilliant wildflowers erupting from rock crevasses--not to mention mountain goats, pupping harbor seals, barnacle-eating bears, etc.  I've shepherded thousands of tourists to Tracy Arm and no one came back disappointed.  For myself, I've been in there about 75 times and it never failed to impress me. 

But wouldn't it be great if I could visit it on my own terms, in my own boat??  In my adult life I'd only been there in a tour boat, dreaming of coming back and exploring with my skiff.  This year I finally made it happen!  Chris and I have taken the Ronquil farther afield than Tracy Arm, but always with a place to refuel along the way.  One of the challenges of Tracy Arm is the lack of anywhere to pick up more fuel, not to mention a dearth of anchorages, so this trip threw up new logistical issues.  We chose a weekend and started planning with our companions, Katie and Rob.  Part of the process for me involved estimating gas consumption, then purchasing and ferrying extra jerry jugs of gas to Snettisham to stage them, which I accomplished on earlier trips down.  Rob and Katie generously agreed to provide food for the entire trip.  The final itinerary had us overnighting at the homestead the first night, then heading to Tracy Arm for two nights, and overnighting back at the homestead on the way home. 

My biggest fear, of course, was weather.  We left the harbor at about 6:00 pm Wednesday night and had a smooth ride down the channel--I was in high spirits and made too many comments about how splendid an evening it was.  My delight diminished at the end of the channel when we began running into chop, seas which built slowly over the next hour until we were bucking occasional three footers as we neared Snettisham.  But it wasn't anything alarming and, during the uncomfortable moments, I remembered that I'd much rather hit seas on this leg of the journey than along the Snettisham Peninsula the next day.  We passed two whales at the mouth of Taku Harbor and lots of loons in Snettisham.  The water at the homestead was glassy calm.  The four of us ate dinners brought from home (Chris had run by Subway on the way to the harbor) and chatted into the evening.  That night a heavy rain started, splattering on the metal roofs.

The next morning we met at the lodge around 8:30, had some instant oatmeal and coffee drinks for breakfast, and packed up our gear for the ride to Tracy Arm.  We left at about 9:30 in a dense rain, cruising quickly out of the port and into Stephen's Passage (our morning "leaving the harbor beers" replaced by swigs of Irish cream from Chris's flask).  The seas were quite mild--one or two feet--and we made it all the way down to Point Coke (the entrance to Holkam Bay) in less than an hour.  I thought I might have spied orcas in the distance closer to Admiralty and gazed in that direction for a few minutes, but never confirmed it.  I told everyone what I remembered about the Little Ice Age as we approached the two buoys that mark the old terminal moraine of the Sawyer Glacier.  Ice bergs dotted the bay and clouds obscured Sundum Glacier.  We quickly caught up with a cruise ship that had entered a bit before us and were disturbed to smell grease and food as we passed their stern.  We stopped at the cliffs across from Williams Cove to look for wildlife and, finding none, continued along the coast.  The consistently rainy weather for nearly all of May and June up to that point had the waterfalls roaring in rare form.  About half a mile from the Big Bend I spotted something black on the beach and was thoroughly delighted to discover that it was, as hoped, a black bear eating barnacles and/or other invertebrates on the rocks!  Classic Tracy Arm.  This bear was jet black, too, beautiful.  We also stopped for a stunning blue ice berg and I told everyone about the shape of icebergs and how you can see the angle at which they used to lay in the water (for some reason I am endlessly fascinated by this!).

And then we were around the Big Bend, where I'd promised everyone the scenery become more spectacular (Rob had been in Tracy Arm twice on the Adventure Bound, but neither of the other two had been there at all).  We followed the right shoreline along the sheer cliffs, admiring the smooth scour marks left by the glacier, the colorful intertidal zone, and the many many waterfalls pouring down the face, some misting out below overhangs before joining again with the rocks below.  We had a wonderful look at a single small seal below the cliffs.  At that point my camera stopped turning on and I was thankful Chris had brought his (mine was brand new).  I tried the two spare batteries, but to no avail.

From there we cruised by Icy Falls and gazed up at the obvious entrance to Icefall Lake, a potential hike we'd heard about--it would be a fun scramble up there, but there was no protected place to leave the boat.  We continued cruising along below the sheer cliffs beyond Icy Falls, passing a pair of seals on the point.  I was particularly delighted to finally have the chance to go at my own speed, stop when I wanted to, gazing up the rock with intimacy lacking on a larger boat.  At some point we ran out of gas--right on schedule--and instead of switching tanks I decided to fuel up.  This was an awkward endeavor, as all our packs were laid across the back bench and covered in a tarp, but the water was calm and I don't even think it was raining at that point (rain had been intermittent since we entered Holkam Bay).  The freedom of the small boat and having no schedule was wonderful; for example, we sped by a couple of strange holes in the rock and I turned around to check them out.  When do you ever get to do that on a tour boat?!  Rob explained that they were areas of weaker rock wearing away.  It was a pleasure to have a geologist on board to point out the dikes and intrusions and other easily accessible geological features (easily accessible for us--Rob saw much that was beyond the rest of us).

And at last we turned the corner and came in sight of the second U-shaped valley and, a few moments later, the first.  Our plan was to camp in one of the three valleys there, wherever we liked the prospects most, primarily based on acceptable moorage for the boat.  The first valley looked better than I could have hoped for.  There was a stony beach alongside a rushing creek, above which a meadow begged us to camp.  Heartened, we moved to the next valley, somewhat less inviting.  Its creek descended through what appeared to be a waterfall, or at least a steeply graded gorge, still covered in a snow bank.  The shoreline was steep rock for some height before the valley leveled out and there did not appear to be a decent place to moor.  That was a disappointing find, as we'd hoped to explore that valley which hides a lake not far from the fjord.  The third valley was perched strangely above the waterline; if sea level were perhaps 100 feet higher, we'd cruise right up to the edge of it.  As it was, we brought the boat onto a rocky intertidal zone, above which scrub grew on the rocks at about a 45 degree angle until, perhaps 100 feet up, the valley appeared to flatten out.  Its creek raged through a gorge nearby.  Rob and Katie hiked the highest through the brush, but never reached the lip of the valley or, if they did, were so deep in the brush that they didn't see anything.  There were few if any evergreen trees, the primary foliage being Sitka alder, ferns, salmonberries, and other scrub.  I did find a pile of deer scat, which was quite intriguing!  The valley looks like fantastic forage in the summer time, but surely couldn't support deer in the winter--where had the deer come from, and where did they go?  They couldn't have made it up the fjord, so they must have come in from the back of the valley, but I pictured it surrounded by snow and ice.  Very puzzling!  Possible names for this valley developed from more typical choices into "Scat Valley."  While they hiked, the Caption Cook or the Adventure Bound passed by on the way home, causing a wake from across the fjord that threatened to rock the boat against the rocks; Chris and I held her off, confirming my discomfort at the anchorage there.

What surprised me most was the sandy beach at the bottom of the rocks, which got wider as the tide dropped.  We sat on the rocks and ate lunch, gazing out at the sheer gneiss cliffs across the fjord.  Katie and Rob had packed wonderful lunches for us all, tidily packed in a large ziplock for each couple each day.  Cailey ate her lunch on the rocks as well.  When we were ready to move on it was mid-afternoon and we decided to press on to the glaciers that night rather than go back to camp (the first valley was the only valley at which I felt comfortable mooring the Ronquil, and appeared to have the easiest camping places as well).  We sped around the corner, passing the cruise ship on her way out (apparently there were lots of waving passengers) and began dodging widely-spaced ice bergs.  Soon we were approaching Marguerite (a.k.a. Sawyer) Island and the junction at which you can see both the Sawyer and South Sawyer Glaciers.  But.....we pressed on and passed the island without ever seeing the Sawyer Glacier!  It had finally happened....the Sawyer Glacier (often called North Sawyer) had at last retreated out of sight of the Tracy Arm junction.  The South Sawyer also seemed farther away, but I could recognize the rocky point where it was nearly stationary the years that I frequented it (2000-2001).  An Allen Marine catamaran was leaving the glacier, so we maneuvered into its wake, thinking that it would provide easy passage through the ice.  There wasn't really a trail to follow, but the ice on the right side of the fjord was widely spaced enough that we could pick our way through, largely at speed.  I told everyone that we should keep an eye out for seals and we soon passed our first resting harbor seal.  And then we were alongside pack ice to the left and there were seals everywhere!  We slowed down and picked our way forward at the edge of the ice, watching several seal mothers and their young pups resting together.  In the distance, the pack ice was littered with black dots.  About a mile from the face, the ice was too thick for easy maneuvering and we shut down between ice bergs for a few brief spells to enjoy the glacier and the seals.  The glacier calved on and off around a large, precarious pinnacle, rumbling satisfyingly.  I was a little shocked to see that land had emerged from beneath the glacier!  A narrow vein of deep blue-green ice separated the left edge of the South Sawyer from a rocky mass, still covered on top by ice.  And suddenly the deep blue we always saw on that side of the glacier made sense--the densest ice is the deepest in color, sometimes even greenish; squished between the fjord wall and this rock, the ice in that area was extra compressed, coloring it an intensely.  Wow.  Whether that rock is another Marguerite Island or the beginning of the end has yet to be seen. 

As we drifted between bergs, repositioning now and then to avoid hitting the bigger ones, we heard some calving and looked over in time to see the entire pinnacle come down in a great crash.  A minute or so later we felt the swell.  Nearby we enjoyed watching a few classy Arctic terns perched on an iceberg and heard more of them nearby.  A small tour boat was the only other vessel around and we eventually wound up close to them, as they were at the practical limit of the ice.  The passengers smiled and waved at us and took photos--we did cut quite a good picture, with our bow full of red jerry jugs and Rob and Katie seated in camp chairs behind Chris and I!  Just before they left, the captain of the other boat leaned his head out the window and yelled "Debbie?"  It was Keegan, an acquaintance from high school!  Small world.

We left shortly after the other boat did, as we wanted to stop by the other glacier before making our way to camp and I for one was getting a little chilled!  I slowed down as we passed the nearby rocky point, which appeared to be home to nesting Arctic terns.  I always knew they nested on the barren rocks exposed by the glacier, but had never been in the right place long enough, and been quiet enough, to see where exactly they congregate.  I had an idea about chilled drinks with dinner, so Katie boldly grabbed three small ice bergs there, two of which fit in the soft cooler I'd brought.  The other berg we left in the bottom of the boat which turned out to be hugely entertaining for Cailey.  Much like the clumps of icy snow we shoveled from the driveway last winter, Cailey bit and scratched and crunched on that berg for quite a while until we finally dumped it overboard!  This may have enhanced an already avid interest she seemed to have in the water and ice bergs around us, and we kept worrying about her leaning too far over the side of the boat.

I was grateful that the rain had stopped (which isn't uncommon at the head of Tracy Arm) and as we approached the junction, we felt the warmth of the sun, very welcome in the glacial chill.  As we passed the other boat, I turned to wave, resulting in an impact with an ice berg at speed that I wish I'd avoided.  The boat didn't start taking on water, though, so I figured we were safe.  We accidentally got quite close to another seal mother and her pup, unfortunately alarming the pup enough to go into the water (followed by its mother).  In all my time at Tracy Arm, I don't think I'd ever seen such a concentration of mother-pup pairs.  We must have hit the pupping season at its height and, in fact, we did see two juvenile eagles perched on a cliff as we pulled away from the South Sawyer (they ostensibly come to feed on afterbirth and stillborn pups).  As we made our way into the Sawyer Glacier's arm, we had to pass through a narrow arc of small ice bergs, which we did slowly enough not to make them a threat.  Beyond that, as is typical, the ice bergs were sparse, dispersed by the steady breeze blowing down from the Stikine Ice Field.  I mumbled a little about the possibly origin of the moraine through which the large waterfall (called McBridalveil Falls by my crew and I back in the day) cascades, but I think everyone was wearing out by then.  We passed the reddish point and its little waterfall, which were newly exposed during the time I frequented Tracy Arm....and the glacier was still quite far away.  A whole section of fjord--made half a mile long--had been uncovered in the last six or eight years.  The Sawyer Glacier always has a primal feeling to it, and this day was no exception.  The rapid rate of retreat means that the cliffs to either side of the fjord for some distance are barren rock, and the wind coming off the glacier for some reason makes me think of the first humans entering North America between sheets of continental ice.  We stopped about a quarter mile from the face--a sheer, blue cliff--and shut down, watching snowball-like ice chunks plummet to the sea with a sound that gave away their large size. 

By that time we were all definitely chilly and, while the glacier was impressive, I got the impression that everyone would be pleased to warm up a little and get to camp.  With some encouragement from Chris, I decided it was time for my secret treat.  I thought the glacier deserved a little more time, so I pulled out my pack and unearthed four "hot cans"--three cafe lattes and cafe mocha for Rob.  I discovered these at Western Auto this spring and was immediately taken with the idea.  They're cans of hot drinks and soups that, after pushing a button and shaking a little, produces piping hot liquid.  Chris and I had tried them once before and found them frustratingly complicated (mostly because the three or four sets of instructions on the can were inconsistent, and the expected steaming behavior failed to happen), the results a warm, but in no way hot, drink.  But we thought they were worth another try, and this was precisely the sort of situation that warranted them.  And, anything warmer than the nippy breeze would be welcome!  In the end, our experiences were similar, and our drinks never really got hot.  But they did get quite warm and were a pleasure to hold and to drink while we drifted rapidly away from the glacier, somehow avoiding every iceberg we passed.  Having finished our drinks, we started to make our way home, this time along the opposite side of the fjord which was more densely clustered with ice.  A few times I simply shut down with some momentum, and drifted through them.  Other times I maneuvered around them; it was actually quite fun, picking the way through the ice is a lot more interesting than most boat driving is!  We passed two more mother-pup seal pairs (an uncommon sight in this arm), and I went out of my way to avoid one of them. 

Soon enough we'd passed the island again and were heading back down the main arm.  I stopped at my favorite Tracy Arm spot, The Nook, which is a square cove with a waterfall coming down the back, big enough to fit several Ronquils or the back half of the big catamarans I use to work on.  The cliffs around the waterfall are overhung with flowers and it's gorgeous.  We also hit the wildflower season pretty well--scarlet red paintbrushes grew in clumps near orange columbine, blue lupine, and a couple different kinds of yellow flowers.  But by that time it was after six, so we streaked our way through a puzzlingly foamy fjord to the first U-shaped valley.  We brought the Ronquil up onto seaweed covered rocks beyond the outlet of the creek and unloaded everything.  While the others set about looking for campsites and getting ready for dinner, I refueled the boat (we'd run out of our next ten gallons just a few hundred yards from the beach and had switched tanks briefly) and anchored it on shore.  I'd hoped that the creek's current would hold it off shore, but it seemed to want to hug the shore around the corner instead.  But we knew we were the last boat in Tracy Arm, so there was no wake concern until the first one entered in the morning.

By the time I was finished, potential sites had been found in the small copse of widely-spaced spruces and Chris was collecting firewood.  Stepping into the woods, I was very surprised to find not just natural clearings where we could camp, but perfectly flat openings beneath the trees that looked like they were perfectly manicured campsites.  And between them, spires of dead alders that begged to be broken down and carried to a campfire.  We opted to camp in the open on the grassy, flat stretch of beach between the edge of the alders/spruces and the intertidal zone.  It was covered in blooming nagoonberries and short grass (and bear poop).  Katie was getting ready to cook and needed a campfire, but we hadn't found a single evidence of fire, and certainly no fire ring.  That was very puzzling!  We knew that both recreational kayakers and kayak rangers camped in Tracy Arm and surely had used this site many times (and there were some cut trees in the woods and paths that could have been human rather than bruin, not to mention a beer can).  The other valleys could be camped in, but surely wouldn't be as enticing.  I knew fires were legal, so why had no one lit one?  Unfortunately, the intertidal zone on this beach was all seaweed-covered rocks, so our fire would have to be on vegetation.  I may have annoyed the others about how careful I wanted to be....any fire we built was going to destroy the vegetation beneath it, which I really hated to do to a pristine beach (there was really no evidence that anyone had camped there yet this year, and I didn't want to ruin it for the next folks).  We wound up carrying rocks up from the beach to form the base of a campfire as well as ring around it.  I thought that might give the vegetation underneath a chance to survive, and planned to remove the ring the next day. 

Chris and I continued gathering firewood while Katie prepped dinner.  By this time, the rain had returned and most of our gear was piled under the tarp.  Chris and I set up our tent on one side of the park and I pulled out the dog rain jacket I'd bought Cailey the day before and tried it out.  I figured it would both keep her from being continually soaked and would help warm her up.  I am generally anti-dog clothing but....I wound up with a dog that lacks an undercoat and it was raining very hard.  Rob tried his luck fishing, first at the very mouth of the creek and then from the beach; he had one nibble and saw an unfamiliar fish follow his lure in, but nothing else.  He pointed out a black bear on the other side of the creek who moseyed around from behind the rocks several times over the course of the evening.  Katie cooked up an amazing meal of couscous cooked over our camping stove and vegetables cooked over the fire.  It was fantastic, and put to shame the meals (if you can call them that) that I usually make while camping!  I chopped up one of the pieces of glacier ice Katie had collected and we drank glacial chilled pomegranate juice and vodka with dinner, which Katie and Rob had brought along, as well as wine.  We were all decked out in full rain gear and boots, as we had been all day, sitting in wet camp chairs around the fire while we ate, then standing around the fire and drying various items.  I dried Cailey's boat blanket (the one that I leave on the boat and drape over her when she gets chilly) as well as the new fleece pad that she lays on, both for that night and so she could at least start the day with a dry bed.  At some point during the evening we heard a crack of thunder and looked over to see an avalanche coming down the side of the valley wall behind us.  It went on long enough that I managed to take a quick video.

On to Day 3

Leaving the homestead	Cheerily leaving the homestead	Green rocks alon gthe Snettisham Peninsula
Looking down Stephen's Passage on the way	Black bear eating barnacles	Approaching a spectacular iceberg
Iceberg close up	Swollen waterfalls	Approaching the Big Bend
Intertidal zone	Spectacular cliffs	More cliffs
Tracy Arm	Cailey checks out the scenary	More cliffs!
Holes worn in the cliff	View looking up Tracy Arm	More scenic cliffs
Breaking for lunch in U-Valley 3	The view up U-Valley 3	The creek rushing out of U-Valley 3
The view from up U-Valley 3 (Rob's photo)	Harbor seal mother and pup	Harbor seals on the ice
South Sawyer Glacier	Arctic terns (Rob's photo)	Chris, Debbie, and Cailey (Rob's photo)
Katie, Rob, and Cailey	Cailey enjoys an iceberg (Rob's photo)	Iceberg at the junction (Rob's photo)
Mother and pup (Rob's photo)	Left edge of Sawyer Glacier (Rob's photo)	Rob checks out the Sawyer Glacier
Katie and Rob enjoy hot cans	Iron oxidizing on the cliffs (Rob's photo)	Woking our way through ice floes on the way out
Caiely looks out over the icebergs	Flowers in the Nook	Cailey helps gather firewood
The creek flowing out of our valley	Nagoonberries at our campsite	Avalanche!
Black bear across the creek	Chris and Katie show off dinner	Chris tackles Cailey

Camp site in U-Valley 1 (a.k.a. Avalanche Valley)

On to Day 3