By MacKenzie Price
“I drifted back to the bear, how beautiful it was, the fur-dappled legs and blond-tipped ears, the paws flicking onto the ground with each step, the broad face, elegant shoulders, and enormous gait so fluid, frightful, and strong, so capable of crushing a skull and picking a berry. It was every bear, and I was every man. My fingers brushed lightly on the map. I looked back at Garforth Island and let it go.” —Kim Heacox, from The Only Kayak, “Garforth Bear”
August 9th 2018
Waking up with a slightly damp down sleeping bag was how I started this day. I never got to the point of being cold but was constantly stressed that I might be cold at some point. We were rolling onto day 6 out on Glacier Bay and morale was slowly starting to dip. People, including our guides, seemed to have grown tired of an almost constant rain. I have been very cold before but never had I experienced such inescapable wetness. Every layer of clothing was soaked through to my skin and my hands were beginning to look alarmingly withered and pruned. We had long given up the hope of rallying to see the McBride Glacier, but there was still a sting of sadness in the morning when the guides decided that we should paddle back to Garforth Island in order to be picked up a day early. I, though I did not want to admit this, was grateful for a relief from my permanent wetness. But I was also disappointed that we had to resort to leaving a day early. Going into Glacier Bay and not getting to paddle near a glacier felt like we were being cheated out of something. But if I learned anything, I learned that the uninhibited wild is unpredictable and a lot more powerful than us. We were just visitors to this area and we were definitely not in charge.
A wet paddle
After breakfast we broke down camp and piled everything into the kayaks. By this point we were almost pros at this tricky Tetris. The paddle back to Garforth Island was a relatively short and I was mentally motivated with the thought of dryness. Not even a mile off of Muir Point we encountered an iceberg. It seemed out of place and oddly prehistoric. I tried to rack my brain to see if I had ever been close to an iceberg and came to the conclusion that my experience with icebergs was strictly fictional, which made it even more amazing. We did not reach the glacier, but at least we got a little glimpse of what it is all about.
Approaching the iceberg
Aside from the iceberg rendezvous, the paddle was afflicted with some rain. The rain was refreshing and atmospheric when moving out on the water. But as soon as we reached Garforth and had to put up our lightweight tent up in the pouring rain, it turned from atmospheric to detrimental. This portion of setting up camp was usually riddled with anxiety that the rain would seep into our one haven. However, we found some luck when, as soon as we were done setting up camp, the rain stopped. Just in time for a bear to walk across our camp! At this point we had come across quite a few bears but I do not think that my heart ever stopped jumping a little when I saw one. Being in such close proximity to a bear, a multitude of times, was always a thrill. I do not think the fact that we were in the Alaskan back country was truly realized until we saw that bear on the very first day. That is when it really sunk in that we were venturing into a place that relatively few people got to experience.
One last campfire
We had the rest of the day to wander the stretches of rocky beach, trying to pick out mountain goats on the surrounding cliffs and reflecting on the kayaking portion of the trip. A brown bear ambled through the trees past our tents, we startling us momentarily, and we it. It lingered for a moment by our bear canisters, but was interested in them only as a visual curiosity–and we tended to our camping with surprising nonchalance–after seven days in Sit’ Eeti Geeyi, we had grown accustomed to our wild home and our wild neighbors, each minding our own business as good neighbors should. I got a bit more reading time which is always my favorite part of the day. Our last day of the kayak trip ended (thankfully) with a fire. A wonderful dinner of halibut tacos and a campfire with plenty of poetry felt like an appropriate way to end this ordeal. After paddling and camping for multiple days in the rain, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I felt I lived through something that was going to make its mark on me. The rain, perhaps falsely, made the whole thing feel more authentic because it provided some adversity to overcome, which is ultimately a good thing. The intensity of our surroundings was only amplified by the weather. It really made it feel like we had to surmount something in order to be privy to the wilderness that is Glacier Bay. But I think that Glacier Bay did not reveal all its cards, and we have to go back in order to explore all the secrets that are held in the breaches of the bay.
Post paddle reflections
From Hoonah, to the Adams Inlet, to Gustavus, and all the people along the way I felt like I had an immersive experience that will affect me for years to come. I came to better understand how parties of somewhat opposing interests, namely the Tribal Association and the National Parks Service, can come form a collaborative relationship. In order to maintain this relationship, these organizations need to look forward on future goals and not backwards on past tragedies. The dialogue we got to witness between the Tribe and the Parks Service was obviously a start. They collaborated on the Hoonah House, and now the Healing Pole. But the next step is maintaining this collaboration so it can continue to grow and not stay stagnate. From what I understood in the conversation between Bob Starbard, Phillip Hooge, and Sally Jewell, there are going to be hurdles when it comes to sustaining this partnership. Some of these challenges include financial limitations, the physical space between the tribe and the Park, and the need for a public demand in order to continue the partnership. But although I know there will always be challenges, from what I experienced in the Glacier Bay/Hoonah/Gustavus community, I am optimistic that there are people out there that will maintain and cultivate this inspiring relationship.
As I sit and reflect over the entire trip, I cannot help but think about the natural beauty that constantly surrounded us. It reminded me to appreciate the fact that I had been raised in the Puget Sound, a place I feel as deeply connected to as many locals did to Glacier Bay. While Glacier Bay may be more uninhibited as the Puget Sound, I am still so lucky to be able to have such a captivating place to call home. The people we also met along the way affected me in ways I was not expecting. I have been so used to the “keep your head down” attitude of Seattle that I could not fathom the hospitality and kindness that was shown to us. A perfect example of this was when almost every person we had met in Gustavus showed up at the ferry terminal to see us off. It inspired me to bring some of that attitude back to Seattle and open up to others in new ways. And as the year gears up and the pace picks up, I can not help but wish I was wet to the bone on a rocky beach with a book in hand.
Where I want to be