Day Two and Three: Hubbard Glacier and Hoonah

Day Two and Three: Hubbard Glacier and Hoonah

As we approached the Hubbard Glacier today, the fog parted, the clouds rolled back, and we found ourselves standing on the bow of the ship, blinking at the bright, clear sky.

The Glacier. I’ve seen pictures of glaciers, and I always imagined them to be something like Interstate highways made of ice. Up close, though, a glacier is something entirely different. For one thing, it’s noisy: the movement of the ice fills the air with a constant, thunderous rumble. The water around the glacier, packed with ice bergs, fizzes, crackles, and sizzles … because, as the ice melts, it releases trapped air. And, of course, there’s nothing to compare with the ka-boom! of massive ice sheets cabbing (or tumbling) off into the ocean below.

It’s also humbling to find yourself — and your ship, which, in our case, is taller than a ten-story building — dwarfed by the face of the glacier, which towers some 300 feet into the sky.

I’ll upload photos later; there’s actually very little I can say that will capture the majesty of this spot.

As we approached the Hubbard Glacier today, the fog parted, the clouds rolled back, and we found ourselves standing on the bow of the ship, blinking at the bright, clear sky.

The Glacier. I’ve seen pictures of glaciers, and I always imagined them to be something like Interstate highways made of ice. Up close, though, a glacier is something entirely different. For one thing, it’s noisy: the movement of the ice fills the air with a constant, thunderous rumble. The water around the glacier, packed with ice bergs, fizzes, crackles, and sizzles … because, as the ice melts, it releases trapped air. And, of course, there’s nothing to compare with the ka-boom! of massive ice sheets cabbing (or tumbling) off into the ocean below.

It’s also humbling to find yourself — and your ship, which, in our case, is taller than a ten-story building — dwarfed by the face of the glacier, which towers some 300 feet into the sky.

I’ll upload photos later; there’s actually very little I can say that will capture the majesty of this spot.

Hoonah. Tour boats have only been stopping in Hoonah (usually called Icy Straight Point) for four years. As a result, even the touristy parts — the cannery and its affiliated shops — aren’t as touristy as you might imagine … and the town, I’m happy to report, is as sleepy and remote as ever.

We opted to start our day with a tram ride through the local forest. Our lesbian driver — a former logger, decked out in a flannel shirt and workboots — was a delight, and the pride the local guides feel for their island shines through. We spotted waterfalls, bear trails, and bald eagles along the way; before we knew it, the entire morning was over.

The jewel of our visit, though, was definitely our “Culinary Adventure” — a cooking course, led by a fabulous local fellow (a former hair dresser, now a chef — really!) who led us through the business of whipping up salmon dip, filleting halibut, cracking crab, and barbecuing fish on an open grill. It made for a great — and tasty — session … and by the time we left, we had prepared and eaten a five course extravaganza featuring the freshest seafood I’ve ever eaten.

Back on the ship, we relaxed, made dinner plans, and visited the library so I could upload today’s entry. While sitting in the Explorer’s Lounge looking at the green hills of Hoonah, I realized I’d miss this place; it was Clyde, though, who realized we’d seen it before — on the Discovery Channel’s “The Deadliest Catch,” Hoonah — Icy Strait Point — is one of the places the weather-beaten crab crews retreat to.

Mark McElroy

I'm a husband, mystic, writer, media producer, creative director, tinkerer, blogger, reader, gadget lover, and pizza fiend.

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Who Wrote This?

Mark McElroy

I'm a husband, mystic, writer, media producer, creative director, tinkerer, blogger, reader, gadget lover, and pizza fiend.

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