The Juneau Ice Fields from a float plane air tourTouring around a sunny Juneau you might not suspect that something completely different lies above the city. But here and there you can see hints. Atop the ridge that lies behind the city you can see ice, suggesting that what lies beyond Juneau is something a little more wild. Look above the Costco and there is a little glacier atop the ridge. Just a bit further north and you will find the Mendenhall Glacier, the terminus of a river of ice a mile wide with a photogenic lake at the face.
Take a plane or helicopter above the high ridge that rises above the city and you find ice, thousands of cubic kilometers of ice. The Juneau Ice Field is 140km (86miles) north to south and stretches almost 90km (55miles) into Canada. In places it is over 1400m (4600ft) thick, a sheet of ice that remains from a time when the world was colder.
When visiting Juneau it is worth the time to see this place. An air tour from town climbs over the ridge an into another world. Once over the ice the scenery is dramatically stark, ice everywhere, with bare rock and rugged mountain peaks punctuating the white. You would think you are over Antarctica, indeed the Juneau Ice Field has stood in for the south pole in a few movies.
There are two cities of Juneau, Alaska. This is a city that has come to depend heavily on the tourist trade. Like many other places that have heavy tourist traffic, a second economy springs up, devoted to servicing the visitors.
Looking down Franklin Street in downtown Juneau on a quiet day, without the cruse ship crowdsIn Juneau the tourists arrive primarily by cruise ship, the floating cities arrive in the morning at the dock along the waterfront that are built specifically to handle these enormous ships. Two to four ships per day are normally present during the height of the summer season, each potentially debarking thousands of people who either head out to one of several available excursions, or simply shop in the waterfront shopping district.
The result is a waterfront district of shops specifically designed to service this trade. Dozens upon dozens of small shops line the streets, each very different, each somewhat the same. Without the cruise ships none of this would exist.The streets are crowded with people and the sidewalks jammed, groups and couples stroll from shop to shop to look at everything from stuffed Eskimo dolls to diamond and ivory jewelry.
Away from the docks the shops thin, until a few blocks back from the waterfront another Juneau can be found. This city exists to service the local population. In Juneau the business is that of state government, timber and fishing. In places like the Hawai’i, where the tourists roam in rental cars the impact of tourism is spread out somewhat. In Juneau, where most simply walk from the ships, the tourist part of the city is more concentrated and the difference very stark.
There are odd days when no cruise ship comes in. On those days the waterfront shops are quiet, many do not even open, choosing to take those days off. Everyone knows when the ships will be coming in, the schedule is published in the local paper. For those who work the waterfront district, life revolves around the cruise schedule, for a few months at least. When the cold weather comes the ships depart for warmer waters and life slows to a less frenetic pace.
A massive river of ice flowing down from the high ice fields above the city. When visiting Juneau go visit the glacier, only a few minutes drive from the airport and worth the visit. if you have the time and can make the arrangements take an air tour of the ice field. An fantastic flight, cross the ridge above the city and you are over the Juneau Ice Field, an enormous expanse of ice punctuated by spires of rock. From below there are only hints of the ice, from the air it becomes an unworldly experience.
Mendenhall Glacier flowing into the lake of the same name, Juneau, Alaska
A small cruise vessel enters Icy Straight en route to Glacier BayOn approach to Juneau we encountered something I had never experienced before, a delay in landing for something other than weather. Indeed, the weather was beautiful, not a cloud to be seen over the spectacular Alaska scenery for the last hundred miles as we flew along the coast.
As we approached the city the pilot announced that another flight was in the way and we would have to wait before landing. As a result we circled a couple times over the entrance to Icy Straight and Swanson Harbor. I sat at the window enjoying the view as Deb slept on my shoulder. The water below looks wonderful, it is going to be tough to wait a day until we leave harbor.
A wall of ice, hundreds of feet high, towering above the water with jagged teeth waiting to crush any hapless vessel below under blocks of ice the size of minivans. The stuff of adventure novels and endless nature documentaries. Such places do exist, where the power of nature is seen raw and in full glory. Witnessing such a spectacle is worth making the effort to get to one of these remote places, where rivers of ice meet the sea.
The towering face of Margerie Glacier in Glacier Bay National Park, Alaska, 28 June 2004At the northern end of Glacier Bay several glaciers still ride on the tide. This entire fjord was once filled with ice. When the early European explorers first sailed into Icy Straight they were met with a wall of ice where the mouth of Glacier Bay now sits exposed. The ice has retreated over sixty five miles, and a number of the glaciers no longer reach tidewater. But those that do provide a show worth sailing up to see.
The show is generally best on a rising tide, as the sea level increases the face of the glacier is lifted and the most unstable pillars of ice come crashing down. Watching from a safe distance gives a chance to see the process in action. No guarantee of a large collapse, no way to predict what will fall on any given day. One can only try to time their visit with high tide to allow the best chance of seeing ice collapses.
When one of the towering seracs does collapse it generally gives warning, small ice falls around it increase in frequency. Something that large does not move fast, but collapses with a slow motion slide into the water. A photographer with a ready camera will have ample opportunity to grab a few frames as the avalanche of ice comes down. The collapse will create a large wave that threatens any nearby vessels, wise to stay well back. Even half a mile away the waves created by the ice will rock any vessels in the fjord.
The weather was forecast to be perfect, no clouds, blue skies and warm. Unusual weather for Juneau, even the locals were commenting on the hot days. Given the forecast I set up arrangements for something I had wanted to do, take Deb on a float plane trip over the Juneau Ice Field.
We had wanted to do this last time we were here, but the weather supplied a day with sullen grey skies and drizzling rain, stopping the plan. This time we had a whole morning available, an opportunity not to be squandered.
The float plane itself is part of the treat for those who love aircraft. A DeHavilland Otter is a legendary aircraft. Asking the pilot I find that this one was built in 1958, quite a bit older than I am.
The pilot looked at my six foot height and offered me the most spacious seat in the aircraft, the co-pilots seat, a rare treat and the best seat in the plane for photography. But I had done this before, riding the co-pilot’s seat of an even older DeHavilland Beaver. I asked him to put Deb up front in my stead. She owes me.
Taking off we bounce over the water and between the towering cruise ships crowding the harbor. The takeoff is surprising fast, we quickly soar above the city and head south for the Taku Glacier. My camera had a fresh 4Mb card and battery, but I aim and fire repeatedly. I will have to change the card before this flight is over.
A beautiful flight over stunning terrain, I have over 200 photos to go through. Ice as far as we could see, the plane carrying us into a world so different from what we know in our daily lives. If you visit Juneau, and the weather cooperates, I highly suggest you take this plane.
A DeHavilland Otter built in 1958, used to fly air tours out of Juneau
Today we land in Juneau. It is a little wierd, I have been to this northern city so many times. A place that I have never lived, but know my way about reasonably well. The ritual is always the same… Check the boat, go over the shopping list, drive about town to buy the mountain of supplies it takes to spend a week or two exploring and fishing. Fred Meyer, Costco, Western Marine… The places where I can find the mutitude of items on The List.
The Nordic Quest underway near Tenakee, AKBetween stops for groceries, there may be a trip or two to the airport to meet a flight. Not that Juneau Airport is any trouble. Three gates, one baggage claim, you can park just a few yards from where your folks are grabbing the bags. An uncle, a good family friend, the rest of the crew for the trip. Another run down Eagan drive to Aurora Harbor.
Errands completed, grocieries stowed, we will finally slip the lines and head down Gasineau Channel. The desination is Icy Strait and Glacier Bay. We will not make it all the way there, getting started too late in the day. Where will we anchor for the night? Swanson Harbor? Funter Bay? Depends on how late we get started, how long the light lasts.
Arrival in Juneau is always pleasant. This is a very small airport, far smaller than even Kona or Hilo. As a result there are no long lines, no mile long walk to the rental car agency, no shuttle vans or snarled traffic awaiting once you do free yourself from the terminal. Walk from the gate down one flight of stairs to the single baggage claim. Forty feet from the luggage you find the rental desks, where you pick up a key and walk out into the parking lot just outside the terminal for your vehicle. A complete contrast to our experience with the enormous labyrinth that is SEA or PDX.
The jet was a 737-800 Combi model, the front half was air cargo, with a bulkhead just over the wing. We boarded and debarked by walking across the tarmac to stairs at the tail of the plane. I expect to walk across the flightline in Kona, but at SeaTac?!
Alaska Air flight 61 unloads cargo and passengers in Juneau
It is always a little wierd… I am just starting a vacation, in a plane of folks who are ending theirs. Thus is the strangeness of living in Hawai’i. Talking in the gate with fellow passengers I get asked how was my vacation, “Don’t know yet, I am just starting out”. The reaction is always the same, a little surprise and a little envy, “Oh! you live here!” A good way to start a conversation, we all have little else to do but kill time.
Alaska flight 804 eastbound over the Pacific, bound for Seattle.One part I never look forward to is the first part of the trip, the five hour hop to the mainland. This will make the third time in a month counting last months trip to visit family and attend Oregon Star Party. Four times in two months, then I stay home for a while.
The flight does not start well, a loud thud and a lurch are all we get when we should be rolling back from the gate. It seems the ground crew has broken a tow-bar. The delay turns the pilot’s promise of an early departure into a fifteen minute delay as they inspect the nose landing gear for possible damage.
This time I remebered to pack a water bottle and some munchies. A bag of cajun spiced trail mix keeps hunger at bay. At least until I can get a quick dinner in the terminal at SeaTac. That will have to do, arrival in Portland will not occur until a bit before midnight.
Overnight in Portland, a chance to have breakfast with my mother before heading to the airport and another flight. This time the destination is Juneau, flying with my Father to pick up the boat.
The tickets were booked far enough ahead that I had my choice of seats. A window seat as usual, I do enjoy the view. This time we went right over the cauldera of Haleakula. I set up the GoPro to do a timelapse using a suction cup mount in the window, it should be a nice bit of video. I hope to use the GoPro in a little creative fun, inspired by some of Mark’s latest projects.
Five hours to Seattle. Three of those hours are now gone as I write this. Two more hours in this seat. At least the inevitable crying baby is far enough forward that the screams are muffled. I look up from typing at a seemingly endless expanse of water and clouds. Pretty, but the sight of land and the end of this flight will be welcome.
