Mount St. Elias and Nootka lupine (Lupinus nootkatensis) from Icy Bay, Wrangell – St. Elias National Park and Preserve, Alaska.

Hey Folks,

As I just sold a print of this photo yesterday, I thought it would fit with the recent postings from Mount St. Elias and a little chatter about the movie of the same name. This photo was taken from Icy Bay, from a small island I paddled out to in my now defunct and sitting in the Yakuat landfill sea kayak. The Nootka lupine (Lupinus nootkatensis) were pretty thick on this small island for some reason, much more so than anywhere else in the bay.

I’d have liked to stay on the island longer so I could take some photos in softer light, but a storm was rolling in behind me, from the south, and I thought it prudent to paddle back to camp on the beach before it struck. Weather in this area is infamous for its nastiness. For example, the folks who made the movie, Mount St. Elias, were turned back from their first summit attempt, close to the top, and had to rappel down over 4000′ to their basecamp, where they were stranded for days in a storm. Next they sit in a cabin on the Chitina River, 90 miles away, and wait for a break in the weather to permit their 2nd attempt – a wait of nearly 6 weeks.

This is pretty par for climbing on St. Elias. By contrast, I was watching another movie at the recent Anchorage Film Festival, “Year of Denali”, about this group of folks who set out to climb ‘The Great One”, Mt McKinley. As they clambered back down from the top, and chatted about how awesome it was, one of the guides spoke of the nice day, and how, with such good weather, perhaps over 50 people stood on the summit that particular day. By contrast, fewer than 50 people have ever stood on the summit of St. Elias.

Just how rugged is this country? Well, nearby to Mount St. Elias stands Mount Logan, the tallest mountain in Canada. Exactly how tall it is wasn’t even known until 1992, when a group from the Canada Geological Society explored the mountain and calculated it’s now accepted elevation of 5,959 m or 19550′. Another example? In 2005, an avalanche of ice and rock collapsed off the face of nearby Mt. Stellar (10 617′ or 3 236m – named after naturalist, George Steller). The impact of that debris on the glacier below generated waves the equivalent of a 5.2 earthquake, and nobody even felt it.

Click on the image for a larger version, and look for a good line to ski down. I’ll be at the bottom, on the beach of Lupine Island, with some hot tea ready for you, OK?

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

Here’s another photo from the summer, of Mt. St. Elias rising above Icy Bay. Good times.

Cheers
Carl

Hey Folks,

So ya can’t go to Yakutat without a trip up to get some Hubbard Glacier photos. I wanted to do a flight-seeing trip to shoot this glacier, but the light wasn’t that great. And when the light was great, I was out at the beach. I need to get back down there and shoot some stuff of this glacier from the air to complement the images I got from lower down. The Hubbard is one of the most visited glaciers in Wrangell – St. Elias – you can’t really do a book on Wrangell – St. Elias National Park without at least some photos from the Hubbard Glacier.

What I ended up doing was hooking up with a boat charter, and riding up Disenchantment Bay with Mark Sappington, from the Yakutat Boat Charter company. Mark was great. We went up the bay, and then got thwarted by the ice – it was pretty thick up there. He said one of the big worries, especially with the tide coming in, is that you get up close to glacier, hang out a bit, turn around and you’re stuck, because the ice pack has built up around you. “Shackleton” comes to mind. I’d had enough excitement for my 2 week trip with the bear at Icy Bay, so I wasn’t too intent on getting too close – though I was disappointed we couldn’t get right up to the glacier.

We hung out in this area a bit, I shot some really bad images of Black-legged kittiwakes (gull-like birds). Whilst shooting those, the ice opened up, and it looked like we might get a little closer to the Hubbard. What the he**, it’s only money, right (the boat is chartered by the hour)? Why not?

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

Here’s another image, pre-bear, from Icy Bay. This afternoon I paddled my still inflated kayak over to this little island and hung out. Beautiful spot for a rest. The lupine just COVERED the island, it was really cool how much more intense the lupine ere on the island than everywhere else. They were awesome. As the afternoon grew, a big storm seemed to be kicking up to the southwest, and I grew concerned about being stuck and not making it back to camp – the boat is not really made for a paddle in rough water. So I packed up and headed back .. sure enough, the storm abated, and the evening grew calmer than ever, and I really wished I’d stayed out to catch some warmer light. But sometimes one takes what one gets.

This is another view of Mt. St. Elias from the Taan Fjord, Icy Bay, Wrangell – St. Elias National Park.

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

Would you say “Toast”?

One thing I’ve learned over the years is it ain’t over til it’s over. Too often we rule things out without a thorough examination of the situation at hand. And thinking laterally instead of vertically, one can often find solutions to seemingly unsolvable problems. Problem is, there’s a 10 foot long tear in the side of my boat, and it won’t hold air while it’s all torn up like that. And if it doesn’t hold air, it’s not a boat as much as a lot of rubber and plastic that I have to carry around. hhhmmm, wait a minute .. what’s that, under the deck, on the back of the torn up seat? Is it, could it be??? It is? Joy, look what I found:

A REPAIR KIT!!!! (you can see my salty, watery dinners drying out in the background)

Now, let me see how I can make this work?

Does it go here?

I know. I’ll call the company who makes these little repair kits and order three hundred more of them, and I should be right as rain.

I figured I’d be hiking and walking around the Yakutat area the rest of this trip.

I’m heading into the field. Check in every few days for some more image and posts I’ve scheduled for while I’m away. No more bear stories (for now) though.

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

Part 3 of the disaster at Icy bay. So I get back to camp, and the bear’s still trashing my gear over in the woods nearby. I don’t know the full extent of the damage to my gear yet, and I don’t know what he’s planning on doing next. I don’t know what he did with one of my (hopefully) bear resistant cannisters of food, my stove and cookware. Fortunately, I carry a satellite phone with me on trips in to the backcountry now, and I decide it’s a good move to call the pilot who flew me to Icy Bay and ask him to come get me. It’s a tough decision to make, because it’s such a pricey trip to make and have to cut short, but I didn’t have a backpack with me, so I couldn’t really feasibly move my camp gear too far, and the bear has made it clear he’s not leaving, and that he’s unafraid of me. I figured he was moving along the beach when he found my boat and trashed it, and is most likely to continue with that once he’s done with the gear. Which likely means he’ll be heading my way before too much longer.

I called the pilot, explained the situation to him, and he said he’d come get me if I wanted. I wanted. He asked how soon, and I said ‘well, now’s a good time if you’re available’. He was, so said he’d see me in an hour or so. I packed up all the gear in my tent, and was just putting my camera gear together in a pelicase when movement once again caught my eye. The bear was coming along the beach, on the edge of the woods as I thought he might be) and was about 40 yards from me, 20 yards from my tent.

I’ve written on my guiding website how much I like my Mountain Hardwear Skyledge 2, and I really wasn’t in the mood to lose more gear, especially my beloved tent. At the same time, I wasn’t sure what I could do about it. I called to the bear, once more “Hey Bear” and he agreed to detour around the tent. By about 5 yards. He walked by it, thru a little stand of alder, and into a little field of lupine, where he took a few bites of the grass growing there. How could a photographer skip a chance shot like this? So I snapped off a frame, and asked him to leave – that’s the photo above. Instead, he started to approach:

Which was kind of a bummer. I didn’t want him too close. And I decided he was too close. I backed up a little, and he kept coming closer. For the photographers out there, these images were taken at 200mm focal length (the first one at 100mm). That’s pretty close. He stopped and looked at me. I was already stopped and looking at him. We talked a minute, but couldn’t come to an agreement. I thought he should go away, and he thought he should not go away: an impasse with 500 plus pounds of grizzly bear. I told him I was going away, shortly, if he didn’t mind waiting. He said he didn’t want to wait. I stepped back, and he stepped forward. I stopped, and he stopped, his nose just a twitching. I was twitching too, but it wasn’t my nose. At this point I was a little uncertain what might be a good option for me. I knew the plane was still at least 30 minutes away, and wondered if the bear and I could sit and stare at each other for 30 minutes ….. hhhmmmmm?

All the while I kept talking with him. Finally, I decided I’d try something I never thought I’d do. Throw a rock at a grizzly bear. He clearly wasn’t leaving otherwise. So I slowly bent, picked up a hefty rock, and told him if he didn’t leave, I’d throw a rock at him. He didn’t leave. Bummer. I plucked up some gumption from somewhere, and tossed the rock into the brush in front of him. The bear turned and raced away immediately. I told him not to come back again, or I’d do it again.

Actually, one thing that was interesting to me was that he didn’t actually run ‘away’. He ran straight back over to his new kayak and dry top. I could hear him in the woods as I packed the rest of my duffel, and moved all my campsite gear down the beach to where the floatplane would arrive. Hopefully real, real soon.

It seemed like about 6 weeks later when I heard the drone of the engine, but I checked my watched and it was only 15 minutes or so. The pilot was hauling a**. He flew low over the area a few times, buzzing it loudly, and this seemed to run the bear off – I couldn’t hear him any more. The plane landed, and we loaded my gear into it, and then the 2 of us walked into the alder where the boat was. No bear. Cool.

I threw all the trash into a duffel, and hauled it to the plane, and the 2 of us hauled the boat out as well. I searched high and low for my second canister and couldn’t find it in the woods – I began to wonder if he’d eaten it. Seriously, I knew he couldn’t eat it, and a gnawing thought in the back of my head told me exactly where it was. Sure enough, a walk to the edge of the brush and a look out over the bay told the story – there’s this little black thing bobbing in the ocean a 100 yards off the shore. We packed the rest of the gear, and then floated the plane around to that area, and by now the canister was on shore. It may be ‘bear resistant’ but it’s not ‘bear proof’. The lid has a hole in it where a really big sharp pointy canine tooth punctured it, and the canister had half-filled with water – salty dinner for me! I was glad to find the canister, but kinda bummed that the bear threw it in the ocean. Who knew bears were so vindictive?

Next up, fly back to Yakutat and check out the damage.

Cheers

Carl

hey Folks,

So, after a little rest and reading and drifting in and out of sleep in my tent, I heard some noises in the woods outside .. branches breaking, cracking, etc. Half asleep, I ignored it. I heard it again. Still half asleep, I ignored it again. It continued. Coming to, I sat up and said to myself (actually I said it out loud, but didn’t want to acknowledge that I talk to myself here – people will think I’m crazy), “I know exactly that noise is – I need to go take a look”.

So I got up, threw on my sandals and walked around the beach. Rounding the corner, I saw my paddle lying on the beach. The kayak, which I’d left lying beside it, was nowhere to be seen. Instinctively, I looked out across the bay. I saw instinctively, because I KNEW the boat hadn’t floated away. I’d been very careful to drag it up well above high tide line, and had the add security of leashing it to an alder branch, so if the tide did rise abnormally, it would be secure. So I knew the boat wasn’t in the ocean. And a quick look over the water verified that. No boat.

I arrived at the paddle and I saw the scene posted in the picture above. It doesn’t show up real well here, but you can kinda see, starting right at the out of focus lupine (purple flower) in the foreground, a swathe of trampled grass and brush heading into the woods. I could still hear the crashing going on inside the woods. I looked own on the ground again, next to the paddle, and saw this:

A steaming fresh pile of bear scat. As I stepped off the beach into the woods, I called out the regulatory ‘Hey Bear’ and made a bit of noise stomping on the brush (normally I move silently, almost cat-like, through the woods – dad will verify, I learned it from him). The sounds of a hasty escape deeper into the woods indicated the culprit had absconded, so I ventured, bear spray loaded and in hand, in to the alder. First, I saw my dry top:

Nice tear in it, but possibly salvagable. Next I saw the spray skirt, in similar condition, a silnylon tarp, torn and destroyed. Next I saw my PFD (Personal Flotation Device, or Life Vest):

No longer a flotation device. Here’s a closer view:

Next I find a Bear Resistant Food Cannister. Unpunctured, my food safe and sound inside it, scratch marks on the outside. Plus one for Carl – not sure where the other container is. Next I turn and see my boat,

You can see the bear learned something; that the boat should always be leashed up to a tree, so it doesn’t float away. Look here:

And his fingerprints:

So my trip just changed markedly. A kayaking trip just isn’t the same when your boat is in this shape. Then it changed again. Movement caught my eye, and I turned my head to see the bear, returning to look over his gear. When say ‘returning’ I mean ‘returned’ – he’s about 30 yards from me. A full grown adult grizzly bear, cautiously advancing, staring intently at me through the alder, not making a sound. I again offer the traditional greeting of ‘Hey Bear’ – I figured it worked last time, maybe he’ll run away again. No such luck – he advances, nose twitching as he searches for my scent.

“Hey Bear, go on, get out of here” .. bear continues cautiously forward. 20 yards.

“OK bear, I’m leaving, just gimme a sec.”

I back up, and the bear advances. I reach the edge of the alder and the beach. the bear continues forward, I continue backward. Down to the waterline. The bear reaches the edge of the woods and sits down – a good sign. I edge away along the waterline, talking to the bear, telling him how pleased I was at the work he’d done on the boat, and that I’d be glad for him to keep it as a gift. I keep going, making my way towards m tent, etc, and the bear retreats back into the woods to his new boat.

I get to the camp, and can still hear him over at the gear, having a grand old time. So what does one do in such a situation? Wait til tomorrow.

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

So here’s the beginning of where this trip gets fun.

This is one of the last photos I took this particular evening. The day had turned into a gorgeous afternoon, and I had a blast. A nice supper round the corner from this point, with this view of Mt. St. Elias over the Taan Fjord of Icy Bay is pretty hard to beat. As the light got nicer and nicer, I was puttering around trying to make some photos. It makes for a long day here in the Alaska summer – this one here was close to midnight. My last 3 shots of the day were this one, a vertical composition of the same scene, and then a landscape image of this area without the boat. Then I went to bed.

During the night I’d glance out my tent door to gaze at the mountain – I was camped about 100 yards or so from here, on a nice little sandy patch of beach, with the door situated so I could open my eyes and get a full facial of Mt. St. Elias. I was hoping the weather wouldn’t change, and during the night, each time I checked, the sky was clearer than before – so I was pretty excited about getting some nice morning photos too.

I opened my eyes around 3:30am, and the sky was a gray misty haze .. a fog had rolled in outta nowhere, and I couldn’t see the shoreline, never mind the mountain 15 miles away. So I was kinda bummed. I sank back to sleep, finding solace that I knew I’d at least be able to catch up on some sleep in the morning.

I get up, around 6:30am, and it’s cloudy and gray, drizzling rain, and nothing much going on. I grabbed my camera, on the ‘just in case’ deal, and headed off down the beach. After about 30 minutes, I decided this wasn’t as good an idea as I thought, and returned to camp – the light was terrible, and I was sleepy. So about 7″30 I get back to my tent. Rather than head to the kitchen area to eat, I sank inside the tent, grabbed my book “The Wilderness Condition”, a compilation of essays put together by Max Oelschlaeger. It’s a great read, but some of it is a bit too ‘heavy’ for reading at 7:30 in the morning. So I drifted off a little – floating in that little zone between awake and not quite so awake.

But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out the next part – I’ll give you a hint though. Tomorrow’s photo will be another image of this same sea kayak – in a slightly different location, and shape.

More photos of Sea Kayaks and sea kayaking.

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

After a couple of days I was fortunate to have the weather clear up a bit. The place is pretty amazing. There were tons of birds in the area, gulls, oystercatchers, sea ducks, murres, murrelets, and more. Flowers were in full swing, and impressive stands of lupine were everywhere.

Most impressive however, is Mt St. Elias. I’ve been lucky enough to see a few great mountains around North America, and I doubt any of them are as impressive a sight at Mt. St. Elias. It literally soars skyward from the coast, towering over 18 000′ high. From Icy Bay I was about 20 miles from the mountain, and it’s simply overpowering to be to close to something so grand. I’d definitely suggest Mt. St. Elias is one of the grand mountains of the world. It’s the tallest coastal mountain in the world, and the St. Elias is the highest coastal mountain range in the world. No other mountain has the vertical relief of St. Elias – though the summit of Everest, for example, is over 29 000′ above sea level, the mountain begins at 17 000′ above seal level. Mt. St. Elias shoots up from the ocean to 18 008′ – I was going to name this photo “Zero to 18 000 in 1/250th of a second”.

And to think I was worried that I’d actually be able to see the mountain from my viewpoint if the weather cleared up. It’s be impossible to NOT see it.

So I had a nice afternoon here, enjoyed Mt. St. Elias for all I could, and then the clouds socked back in, which was kind of a bummer. But I was still keen to explore the area further, and looked forward to the days ahead.

More sea kayaking photos.

Cheers

Carl

Hey Folks,

I think I’m going to title my first book, ‘From One Disaster to Another’.

I got back, safe and sound, from my most recent trip to Wrangell – St. Elias National Park, but somewhat earlier than planned. I’ll tell it to you over a few posts, starting here.

I flew from Anchorage to Yakutat, a small town down on the coast, in northern South East Alaska. I was aiming to go from there to Icy Bay, an inlet on the Gulf of Alaska, and one of the few areas where the park touches the coast. I’d heard bits and pieces about the bay over the years, but knew very little about it. Everyone who’d been simply said ‘Oh, you GOTTA go to Icy Bay’. I’ve always been one to do as I was told, so, in time, I headed for Icy Bay.

So I arrive in Icy Bay. I go paddling, hiking, swimming, and generally have a good ole time. There’s not much that beats being in a place like Icy Bay. I’d have to agree with the recommendation above – you do gotta go to Icy Bay. And how can you go to a place called ‘Icy Bay” and not swim in the bay? So here’s a couple of images of me swimming in Icy Bay.

Truth be told, it wasn’t really that cold.

Stay tuned. It gets better.

Cheers

Carl