Prince William Sound, 2001

Boat and Iceberg Prince William Sound, 2001

The first day of our three-week adventure was so clear and calm that we decided to fly the 100 miles from Whittier to Cordova in our Cessna 150. The flight was over a lot of open sea but we skirted the northern coast so we'd have options in case of emergency. The real destination was Katalla, the site of what might have been a major Alaskan city. Rich deposits of coal and oil were discovered there in 1901. The first oil well gushed 85' high and produced 1,600 barrels a day! Katalla was once called "The Pittsburgh of the North" but after the 2000' breakwater collapsed in a record-breaking storm, it was gradually abandoned. The mineral wealth remains in the ground, guarded by towering mountains to the north and the vast Pacific Ocean to the south.

On the way back we landed on Hinchinbrook Island and hiked the outer coast, a place far too shallow and dangerous for us to visit by boat. Offshore waves from contrary currents crashed together into 100' waterspouts. I can't imagine what would happen in a winter storm!

On our return to Whittier, we met friends with a 21' Bayliner similar to ours. We "buddy boated" across northern Prince William Sound to Valdez, then on to Cordova. As always, it was a taste of heaven. We treasure memories of canoeing miles through icebergs in soft midnight twilight, listening to Pachabel's Canon in D roll across silky water in a lonely cove, hiking in a deluge to the top of a raging cascade.

From Sheep Bay, Dennis and I explored up the river. I rounded a corner to find myself following a grizzly traveling the same direction. "Dennis," I whispered, "there's a bear!" The bear heard me, spun around, and stood up to regard us before bolting for the bushes. We turned back, not wanting to crowd him. That evening at high tide, we tried again. The tidal current had reversed so we floated down into a mystical lagoon we didn't know existed (it was off the edge of our chart). We spotted the same bear wandering down the shoreline and paddled the same direction until he stood up and batted the air.

At the inlet stream, a sparkling white gravel delta fanned out, framing hundreds of darting, dark-bodied salmon. Dennis wanted to try to catch one so left me on bear watch. After several minutes, we heard a grunt and a splash. A huge sow with two cubs had stepped out of the nearby bushes and grabbed a fish! The cubs stood up with interest as we scrambled to get the canoe into deep water. We saw nine bears that day!

The following day, we tried to hike the Raging River Trail. It wasn't much of a "trail" but we finally found markers and scrambled uphill to an old lumber road. There were no signs of people, but every few yards we saw huge piles of grizzly scat. We proceeded with caution to a vantage point where we ate and rested.

"Do you remember this pile?" I asked Dennis on the way back. "No," he said. I put my hand down near it. Warm! We quickly surveyed the surrounding woods as Dennis readied his gun, then moved on, conversing loudly. At one point, our blood froze as the distinctive smell of rotten fish assaulted our nostrils. We were still 1000 feet above sea level. That day we saw no bears, but they surely saw us!

That evening we canoed up a tidal stream. The cove was filled with salmon. When they could no longer escape us by swimming toward the shallow stream, they turned and raced back toward us, pushing up a 1' wave! It was a "fish stampede"!

We got some wonderful photos this past summer. Click on the links to view them: