GLACIER BAY NATIONAL PARK, Alaska

We spent the day cruising Glacier Bay National Park, one of the most spectacular places on earth, 3 million remote acres of uninhabited beauty. You can fly into Gustavus from Juneau and drive the 5 miles in to the visitors center and campground but beond that you'll need a kayak, some woollies and a tent. Most visitors observe the park from the comfort of one of the 139 cruise ships that cruise Glacier Bay every summer. We had the distinction of being the last boat of the 25-day season to see the Johns Hopkins Glacier, about 65 miles from the entrance of Glacier Bay and enroute passed Reid Glacier. Johns Hopkins inlet is closed to all boats until September 1 because it is a harbor seal nesting area in the summer (and one of only two advancing glaciers in the park). A host of seals were still in town sunbathing on floating chips from the glacier (see the little black specks in the photo), though most had already swam south to warmer waters.

250 years ago what is now Glacier Bay National Park was covered with glacial ice. The glacier had advanced so far that the Tlinglit who had been living in the bay were forced to move. The inlets present now were formed by this glacier and today there are only a dozen tidewater glaciers remaining in Glacier Bay. According to one of the Park Rangers who boarded our ship (via motorboat and exhilarating transfer) the enormous and accelerated glacial melting of the last few decades is a natural pattern of glacial activity and not an outcome of global climate change. The contact with saltwater is ultimately what causes the glacier to melt, not the temperature of the air. We spent a couple hours hovering about 1/4 mile from the face of John Hopkins Glacier on a sunny (for Alaska) day.

As we sadly sailed out of this otherworldly place a parade of orca and humpback whales dazzled us and punctuated a wondrous day on this magnificent planet with points of exclamation.

JUNEAU, Alaska

Juneau - Capital of Alaska, accessible only by boat or plane, a land
formed from Glaciers. The Tlingits fished the bountiful waters of
Southeast Alaska long before the Russians arrived to trade and then
settle. Their influence is still felt in the native arts and crafts,
including totems that fill the handful of fine art galleries in these
parts.

Our ship, the MS Veendam docked at 2pm just as today's morning rain
subsided. We raced ashore to catch as much clear day as we could
squeeze in. First up, a 20-minute shuttle to the Mendenhall Glacier.
The "old salt" driving our bus gave a head count of the several bears
that had been frequenting the Mendenhall area but we didn't expect to
see the mama (who had just been shot with bear-mace for acting out the
day before) and her two babies in the woods by the parking lot. We
watched from 30 feet as the disinterested cubs munched on some berries
and then the three waddled across the road and up the mountain. Not
half an hour later as we wandered toward the glacier, a little black
bear emerged from the bushes and stared at the lake before circling it
in hopes of finding a late season salmon.

Before catching a return shuttle to downtown, sprinkles returned and
we hoped our planned tram trip to the top of Mt. Roberts wasn't going
to be shrouded in a sea of fog. Alas, the canopy of clouds gave a
mysterious and ethereal feel to the views of Juneau and her beautiful
surroundings. We walked the muddy trail wrapped in our rain gear and
were grateful we'd made it ashore. On the cruise north we'd run into
two patches of rough seas. The morning portion had me seasick and in
bed eating saltines and green apples. With calm waters I staged a
recovery but the captain had warned of six more hours of a rocking
ship so we tucked into bed at 8:30, just as the dips and heaves and
clanking that made me feel like I was on a waterbed in a blender
began.

By the time we docked in Juneau, not only were my sealegs intact, but
my appetite was raging. After our trip up Mt. Roberts we stopped in at
The Hangar on the Wharf, a favorite with locals and cruisers alike for
a pre-dinner snack before donning our slickers for the walk back to
our ship amused that all the locals we met considered it "great
weather for Juneau."

SEWARD, Alaska

I'm tempted to move into the Burl Cabin on Old Exit Glacier Road in Seward. I'm writing this at my little desk with corner picture windows watching salmon arrive for spawning in the shallow creek before they take their last few skips up river and then float in place until they disintegrate or are eaten by a bear. We had planned to take a 6-hour boat trip through the Kenai Fjords today but swells were reaching 15 feet near the Chiswell Islands so the trip was cancelled. A blessing in disguise as I am content watching raindrops splash and salmon take their last breaths, completing their incredible circular life. (The salmon in our stream have the courtesy of floating below the surface, rather than jumping on the shore like the salmon in the photo taken in downtown Seward.)

Before arriving in this coastal, commercial-fishing, rainforested town with a welcome patch of sunshine, we made a side-trip to the Alaska Wildlife Conservation Center situated where the town of Portage was prior to the 1964 earthquake and subsequent tsunamis that caused complete destruction and abandonment of Portage. Remnants on the site include a few dilapidated cottages and trees deadened by the saltwater flooding. The center serves as a retreat for injured and orphaned animals including bears, eagles, muskox, moose, elk and other native wildlife.

Once we reached Seward, finding a restaurant proved a bit challenging as much of the town has just boarded up for the season. We were fortunate to end up at Ray's on the harborfront for excellent, and oh so fresh halibut and shrimp. Fortified, we headed out to Exit Glacier, the exit for the first crossing of the Harding Icefield in 1968, thus its name. A 0.9 mile trail leads visitors to the edge of the glacier, then winds around for a circular route. As I pointed down the trail, I saw movement at the base - a black bear that looked to me like a baby, and to Benedicta full-grown. Either way, it was definitely a bear, causing Benedicta to nix that route. So we retraced our steps, glad to have a path full of leaves to crunch and rustle.

Safely back at our cabin, we unloaded our gear and practiced the ancient art of lighting the campfire. Fortunately our supper wasn't dependent upon it as our damp wood required several attempts. With persistence, and the requisite second-guessing of each other's methods, Benedicta got a flame going and I blew on the beginning sparks to set it roaring. And there we sat until past our bedtimes, staring into the flames until the embers went from red to black. A little sunshine is peaking over the treetops now, so perhaps we'll get another chance to perfect our skills. Until then, I'll watch a few more salmon take their final bow.

RICHARDSON Hwy and GLENN Hwy, Alaska

If you're not into mountains, just skip this post - and this drive. Personally, when I'm out here in my grungy clothes and product-free hair my authentic inner essence runs free. I love living in NYC but always feel a little like an imposter. Here Truth speaks to me through the eternity of these mountains.

Our route - 12 hours with 419 miles of changing mountain vistas from Chena Hot Springs to Anchorage: The Alaska Range to the West on the Richardson Highway, through the Isabel Pass, then fringing the border of the Wrangell-St. Elias National Park (the largest national park in the U.S. and where I would go on my next Alaska voyage if I were up for back country camping) and onto the Glenn Highway and the Chugach Mountains. Driving straight through would take about 9.5 hours but we pulled over: 1) at every scenic overlook; 2) to turn around when a short-cut on Grange Hall Rd. became two mud tracks filled with a foot of pooled water; 3) to spread tunafish on bread for lunch; 4) to gas up the car in Delta Junction; 5) to sample several roadside outhouses; and, 6) to chow on Alaskan-Chinese food in Palmer. A highlight of the trip was the Matanuska Glacier. It's accessible just off the Glenn Highway and maintains a pristine white face. Can you believe we'll see even more mountains today as we drive through the Chugach National Forest to Seward? I'm going to see it to believe it!

Time to push off from our respite in Anchorage. I just opened the curtains of our fourth floor window and was surprised to see the tip of Denali in the distance (for one moment before it disappeared). Benedicta is watching the Alaska channel and writing down places to visit on our next trip. My fortune at Peking Alaska last night read, "Welcome the change coming soon into your life." I welcome today and it's promise-filled future.