Endicott Arm
The wake-up call shortly after midnight seemed out of character. It was very dark as sleepy faces struggled to the decks. More stars than one can imagine spangled the moonless sky without a hint of light pollution from human habitation. Our early awakening was for light of another kind, a special sighting of the aurora borealis. A pale curtain of northern lights hung near the horizon. The aurora dimmed, and our attention refocused on shooting stars and a glimmering green beneath the bow. The forward motion of the Sea Lion caused the sea to glow with bioluminescence in a light show of its own. Southeast Alaska revealed a night world only rarely visible in our brilliantly lit lives back home.
At first daylight the ship slipped through the entrance to Endicott Arm, a fjord that slices more than 30 miles back to the Dawes Glacier. The officers maneuvered the ship through the quiet, teal-colored water towards the glacier’s jagged face. Throughout the morning we explored this scenic wilderness by kayak and Zodiac. We tucked in beneath waterfalls that tumbled over rock rasped smooth by glacial ice. Small frozen chunks scraped noisily against the sides of our boats earning their name of growlers. Bright sunshine bathed the icy landscape with warmth. Every now and then a curious harbor seal stared somewhat blankly at the strange objects drifting through its watery realm.
The conditions were perfect for an afternoon Zodiac ride. A hidden tributary fjord is accessible only during slack tide, a narrow window of time when currents are at a minimum. Our Zodiacs easily negotiated the potentially hazardous entrance to the spectacular glaciated landscape within. The rubber boats looked like tiny toys next to the towering walls of carved stone. Waterfalls of all kinds cascaded through deep fissures, fell like bridal veils or crashed in torrents from high above. This secret place seemed little changed from the time when Harry Ford, U. S. Navy aboard the ship Patterson, explored here by rowboat in the late 1800s. His experience with the wild eddies and standing waves that we fortunately avoided gave meaning to the name that has stuck, Ford’s Terror. Following our own exploration, a repeat of yesterday’s swimming option became a reality. Brave souls took to the chilly water with unbridled enthusiasm, but it was not long before all were back onboard.
The ship retraced her route along the glacier’s former path towards Stephens Passage. A lingering rainbow arced a full 180 degrees across the sky. The multicolored ribbon of light seemed like a fitting farewell to Endicott Arm, a truly wild and pristine hide-away in our ever more crowded world.
The wake-up call shortly after midnight seemed out of character. It was very dark as sleepy faces struggled to the decks. More stars than one can imagine spangled the moonless sky without a hint of light pollution from human habitation. Our early awakening was for light of another kind, a special sighting of the aurora borealis. A pale curtain of northern lights hung near the horizon. The aurora dimmed, and our attention refocused on shooting stars and a glimmering green beneath the bow. The forward motion of the Sea Lion caused the sea to glow with bioluminescence in a light show of its own. Southeast Alaska revealed a night world only rarely visible in our brilliantly lit lives back home.
At first daylight the ship slipped through the entrance to Endicott Arm, a fjord that slices more than 30 miles back to the Dawes Glacier. The officers maneuvered the ship through the quiet, teal-colored water towards the glacier’s jagged face. Throughout the morning we explored this scenic wilderness by kayak and Zodiac. We tucked in beneath waterfalls that tumbled over rock rasped smooth by glacial ice. Small frozen chunks scraped noisily against the sides of our boats earning their name of growlers. Bright sunshine bathed the icy landscape with warmth. Every now and then a curious harbor seal stared somewhat blankly at the strange objects drifting through its watery realm.
The conditions were perfect for an afternoon Zodiac ride. A hidden tributary fjord is accessible only during slack tide, a narrow window of time when currents are at a minimum. Our Zodiacs easily negotiated the potentially hazardous entrance to the spectacular glaciated landscape within. The rubber boats looked like tiny toys next to the towering walls of carved stone. Waterfalls of all kinds cascaded through deep fissures, fell like bridal veils or crashed in torrents from high above. This secret place seemed little changed from the time when Harry Ford, U. S. Navy aboard the ship Patterson, explored here by rowboat in the late 1800s. His experience with the wild eddies and standing waves that we fortunately avoided gave meaning to the name that has stuck, Ford’s Terror. Following our own exploration, a repeat of yesterday’s swimming option became a reality. Brave souls took to the chilly water with unbridled enthusiasm, but it was not long before all were back onboard.
The ship retraced her route along the glacier’s former path towards Stephens Passage. A lingering rainbow arced a full 180 degrees across the sky. The multicolored ribbon of light seemed like a fitting farewell to Endicott Arm, a truly wild and pristine hide-away in our ever more crowded world.
