Kenai peninsula...the frozen north begins

Following our bear adventures at Katmai we arrive back to Anchorage to pick up our 4WD to drive to our log cabin in the middle of the Alaskan wilds. The mountains and bays surrounding Anchorage are breathtaking - indeed, this is true of all of Alaska we've seen so far. Driving along the bay as we're leaving the city boundaries there are Beluga whales gently swimming close to the shores.

The closest town to our cabin is 15 minutes up the road, Moose Pass, population 200. There is a small store (cash only) and a tavern. The latter does great burgers we discovered on our first night and has a typical Alaskan country feel, complete with stuffed bear on the ledge next to where we dined and a sign that tells us to leave all sidearms with bar staff.

"Log cabin" is underselling where were staying, it's extremely well appointed and spacious. It's a pleasant change to be somewhere so quite and private having just come from Brooks Lodge where the paper thin walls allow for intimate knowledge about the neighboring guests - we were there for the bears not the accommodations. In contrast "Chalet in the Pass" is a cozy, welcoming hand-built sanctuary. Impossible to describe it properly, but it exudes the love and care poured into it by Gregor, our host.

Alaskan summer is a balmy 10-14oC during the day at the moment and a bit of light drizzle much of the time. Not that it stops us doing anything. Our first morning we head to Exit Glacier or should we say Exiting Glacier, it is receding significantly every year and they have markers along the trail to show where the glacier had once reached. This becomes a recurrent story during our stay, very sobering.

We had planned to do a second walk in the afternoon however succumbed to the call of the quiet cabin with the well appointed kitchen.  We forage for supplies for our seafood chowder.  What we are extremely surprised by is how difficult it is to find fresh seafood, given we're shopping in Seward, a larger fishing town 45 minutes from our cabin.  We appear to have the choice of buying 5kgs of fish minimum, buying frozen or shopping at the Safeway supermarket where supplies of local produce are minimal.  Regardless the seafood chowder was delicious (featuring sockeye salmon, scallops, tarragon, Thai chillis) and a much more relaxed afternoon than we'd had for a while.

Early to bed as the next day we had to be up by 5:30am to get to our boat. Today we were heading to Northwestern Glacier(s), a three hour boat trip into the fjords where we were to kayak. We had originally booked a much shorter trip to kayak Bear Glacier, unfortunately a rare natural event occurred the week prior, resulting in it being too dangerous to kayak.  This was our second rare natural event we'd just missed, the first being Hurricane Lane. How rare are these things?

Northwest Glacier was certainly not second prize. The boat trip was fairly rough until we arrived in the calm bays where we would be kayaking.  Breathtaking is understating it, everywhere we look is another glacier and we can hear the thunderous roar of avalanches through the bay as ancient glaciers are slowly melted away.  There is a little apprehension climbing into a small kayak when you are dwarfed by the mountains and glaciers that surround.  We are kitted up with kayak skirts, rain pants and a life-jacket before we are pushed out into the grey-blue yonder. The glaciers felt massive from the comforts of our larger boat, from a small kayak it is daunting.  We paddle up to the edge of our first glacier that has the appearance of the jagged gates of an ice world.  We then kayak further along the fjord where the floating icebergs (technically "growlers" unless they're the size of a 1 story building but we'll call them icebergs for affect) grow denser.  The water is littered with ice that our kayak/captain dodges between. There are harbour seals surrounding us, staying at a distance but watching us out of curiosity. 

Now all of this sounds fabulous, yes? And it is - the trick is that we got to do it in a very persistent drizzle, sometimes rain and, once or twice, hinting at sleet. This is an extra degree of difficulty we'd not expected......cameras become even more protected than ever, the chill threatens to set in..... There is an upside though: as we've been told, if the rain or wind stops, the bugs come out. And they're pretty determined bugs here, what with having such a short summer to feast in. Andrew's already missing half a leg from a solid gnawing he copped at Katmai, and discretion prevents discussion of Tracey's savagings.

Puffins!!

The Frozen North indeed this was. Icebergs buffeting the kayak, glaciers dead ahead (and to both port and starboard), and so few other people around to disturb the hush that is periodically interrupted by the thunder of glacial avalanches. The ~10km we paddled will live longer in memory than the fatigue in arms and shoulders.

Sleepy sea otter @ Seward

Mountain unicorn goat

Too much to bear

Arriving in Alaska felt like a relief in so many ways. First, we missed our flight from Kona to Honolulu, leaving in jeopardy the connecting flight to Alaska. Second, we were happy to be out of high temps and humidity, somewhere we could wear more than board shorts every day. Third, Hurricane Lane was descending on Hawaii and was looking like one of the most devastating in years. Four, if we missed our connection to Alaska it would also mean missing one of our 3 nights in Katmai National Park, a remote region that you can only reach by seaplane. Thankfully we just made the flight to Anchorage and then our connection onto King Salmon (far smaller plane, made by Saab), a tiny remote town with a population of 200.

From there we were taken to the lake where we and our luggage were weighed before climbing into a tiny seaplane that was operated with gears, levers and knobs (and probably some duct tape, we just didn’t spot it). The flight yielded amazing views over the mountains and lakes of Katmai and delivered us safely to Brooks Lodge where we would spend the next three nights.  As soon as we arrive we’re ushered into Bear Etiquette class where we are instructed what to do if a bear walks across our path (or, even more pertinently, if we stray into their path). Essentially the advice is to make sure you come across as human (talking to the bear, apparently, though the quality of repartee one should expect wasn’t addressed), and to get out of the bear’s way. Walking backwards is good, or at 90 degrees to the bear’s path…..just don’t run). Hmm sounds simple, but would we hold our nerve under pressure? We guessed that the instinct to shriek and panic may be hard to overcome…

Lake Naknek

Cabins are basic but we’re not here for luxury. We head towards Brooks Falls hoping to see our first bears in the wild. It’s a 20 minute walk to the falls but we didn’t need to wait that long, 2 minutes from the lodge we see our first bear hanging out in the lake. Cue the smiles. We reach the falls and there are a further four bears all vying for the best spot along the falls to catch enough salmon that will see them through hibernation in winter (just around the corner apparently, but today the sky is blue and sun shining…..first time in two weeks we’re told). They have already fattened up considerably through the season, particularly the bear named “747”. They don’t give the bears names, just numbers.  It seemed apt that this particular bear was named as such as he was the size of plane.  It is easy to spend a considerable amount of time just watching the bears from our platform and the salmon that are trying to jump the falls to head upstream for spawning. Many are not successful and you watch as they try multiple times to jump the 1 metre plus falls, sometimes ungracefully whacking into the rocks and falling to the clutches of a waiting bear. In general, the salmon come off pretty badly: missed leaps could result in death by bear, or a nasty knock on the head from a rock mistaken for a soft landing spot; the sockeye salmon also become a regular dinner guest – on the plate.

Having not really slept on the overnight flight from Hawaii, we were in bed early and back at the falls to see the bears early the next day.  After a lighter than expected breakfast (we missed serving time) we head out into the wilds of Alaska to climb a mountain (naturally).

We didn’t even get out of the camp before we encountered our first bear, hanging out on the beach of Naknek Lake. Bears get right of way on the beach (even if this wasn’t a rule, giving way to larger and more dangerous things is generally wise). A short wait, then the bear had moved on and we were off.

We’ve done more strenuous walks, however none quite so enlivened by the frisson of danger as we wondered where bears might emerge from. The track was often largely invisible, owing to chest high grass and myrtles, and it was easy to imagine whole families of bears alongside us, or surprising us when coming around blind turnings.

During bear class we’d been told to talk constantly to alert the bears to our presence…you do not want to surprise a bear. We started our trek up Dumpling Mountain, taking inanely and just calling out “Hey bear” frequently.  We had always believed in the quite serenity of walking, nonstop chatter didn’t come naturally though thankfully we didn’t see any more bears, so we assume it worked.

Andrew wading through our non-track

The views were most impressive indeed, the light a little moody and atmospheric. From down at the camp you’d have very little idea of the layout and local surrounds, which would be a shame as it’s very beautiful. There were numerous berries: we had been told to expect blueberries, and Andrew sample some of….not those, he realised when he finally came across the real article. We were later advised these were crowberries, nowhere near as tasty as blueberries but more importantly not hazardous to humans. There were also watermelon berries and cranberries – evidently, bears eat the latter.

After a light lunch (including sockeye salmon, another piece of bad luck for them), it was back to the falls to check on our ursine buddies. Once again 747 was in pride of place, with a number of others. Each has their own look and personality, and it’s easy to invent a life story for them.

Having learned our lesson about breakfast times, we were up and at it – before heading off the the falls. Although there are fewer bears first thing (~7.45am, the falls are closed to humans between 10pm-7am) we love this time of day as so far we’ve been by ourselves, which is preferable to a crowd of ~20. Admittedly the people are generally pretty good, a bit chatty, and at busier times of year they need to enforce a limit of 70 people on the viewing platform. We haven’t yet encountered the type of lunatics who only a couple of weeks earlier went into the falls (strictly prohibited) to take selfies.

We elected to risk the grey and dampish conditions, and headed out to canoe Naknek Lake. What do you know, less than 100 metres from pour starting point we spot a bear napping on the beach…..there are many just around the lodge area, sometimes we wonder why we bother voyaging further out. The lake is a gorgeous colour, and in the canoe we were finally able to take in some serenity. It was a nostalgic experience, canoeing a North American lake…..it had been 40 years since the last time for Andrew. We avoided being taken out by seaplanes and returned, unsunk, after a peaceful couple of hours or so. We’d earned our lunch……sockeye salmon chowder (yum, but things aren’t looking up yet for those little guys).

Canoeing Lake Naknek

View from Dumpling Mountain

 A slightly lazy afternoon, our peace was broken by the shouts of “bear coming, everyone inside”. Naturally Tracey went outside to investigate but the bear had been scared away by the shouting.  After dinner…more salmon… we head back out to the falls to spend a bit more time with the bears, 747 is still there having staked his claim on the best section of the falls. We head back towards the lodge but again the bridge back is closed due to bear activity and we have to wait watching bears play until it is safe to cross. Earlier in the day the bridge had been closed for more than an hour as a bear decided to have a nap at the end of the bridge.  We decide it’s finally safe to cross, we get mostly across and look back as a large bear emerges from the spot we’d just left. For such large creature they are extremely quiet…the squirrels make more noise.

Our final day at Brooks is damp but nothing to deter us from venturing out to see the bears again, though admittedly we can walk outside our cabin and see two playing in the lake out front, but that’s just not enough. Seems like drizzle is as popular with bears as with humans, with just one hanging out at the falls. He was one we’d seen several times, with a nasty looking wound on his left rump. He was having a pretty successful go at fishing, so we’re optimistic that he will make a full and rapid recovery. It’s a tough life for a bear, with female reaching only ~20 years and males up to ~25.

Happily, there were two pairs of youngsters (subadults, we believe) playing around with one another near the bridge. They learn valuable fighting skills while they play in the water’s edge.

Our flight out surpassed the earlier standard, as this time we were in a De Havilland King Beaver, roughly twice the size of the previous plane & very likely better travelled – this one had spent time in Yemen and Saudi Arabia. The switch of plane was probably just as well as the Alaskan summer (ie lots of low clouds) resulted in a bumpy flight. Thankfully they didn’t weigh us again for the return journey, the buffet breakfast, lunch and dinners, though good, were not the healthiest of options. Still, when in the wilds of Alaska you take what you can get – and, in context, it was pretty good.