Pavlof Harbor, Chatham Strait, Icy Strait
It’s 9 PM, and I feel quite sure that today must have begun 72 hours ago. Twenty-four hours couldn’t possibly hold so much. It is wonderfully overwhelming.
It all started an hour before breakfast, when we were awoken by these words over the p.a., “Good morning, good morning everyone. It’s 6:30 AM, and there are five killer whales near the ship.” Two of them had the unmistakable, six-foot tall dorsal fins of adult males. A mother and calf swam side by side. As we focused our attention on the orcas, we were all surprised when a humpback whale surfaced close by the ship. The two species appeared indifferent towards one another, and the humpback swam off towards the shoreline. At times the orcas were in very close contact with one another, rolling and rubbing. Their round pectoral flippers came above the surface, as did the curled tail flukes of the large males. They lobtailed, spyhopped, and even breached! When they swam under the bow of the ship, we could see their black and white bodies through the water. We eavesdropped with a hydrophone, and heard their whistles and clicks. Sea Lion turned away, and we headed below for breakfast. (Our first 24 hours happened before 7:30 AM.)
When we arrived in Pavlof Harbor, a brown bear and two cubs were walking on the beach. Half a mile away, another sow and cub walked near the river. Thousands of pink (humpback) salmon schooled at the river mouth, while others struggled over rocky shallows towards the falls. Their backs and tails were visible above the surface as they splashed over the rocks. Some of us watched from kayaks, while others walked the shore, past numerous salmon carcasses and piles of bear scat. A large, flat rock just beneath the fish ladder apparently served as an eating platform - it was strewn with salmon gills and bones and milt. Bears prefer salmon eggs and brains, and many of the salmon carcasses had bite marks through the skulls. Bears had been digging for roots in the streamside vegetation, rounding out their high protein diets with plant material. It was no surprise when we saw another sow with two cubs near the river; this was clearly an important feeding area for many bears.
The salmon had returned from the open ocean to this stream where they’d hatched. Now they poured every last drop of their lives into spawning, and by now many of them had white fungus and rot on their fins. The energy of so many lives struggling and ending was palpable. (Our second 24 hours was among the salmon and bears at Pavlof Harbor.)We continued north through Chatham Strait, where we paused to watch a humpback whale, and then another brown bear with two yearlings on shore. A slide presentation on marine mammals was interrupted by the sighting of another humpback whale, and after the talk we watched a scattered group of eight humpbacks surfacing and swimming slowly.
The bridge had sighted a more active group of whales in the distance, and we approached with excited anticipation. These whales were engaged in cooperative bubble net feeding! After seeing a tight clump of blows and tail flukes, we waited and watched for them to surface. Four and a half minutes later, ten whales (perhaps as many as fourteen?) burst through the surface, mouths open. A couple of fifteen foot long pectoral flippers stood out among the crowd of open whale mouths. The spectacle was amazing, and it was repeated over and over as the whales followed a school of herring around a small island. We put the hydrophone in the water, hoping to hear the feeding calls they make to scare the herring. A naturalist imitated the feeding call for us, and a moment later the whales’ own feeding calls came over the hydrophone. How eerie and wonderful the sound was! Their dive times shortened until finally we started hearing their calls only seconds after they dove. Within two minutes, a pair of pectoral flippers and more than ten huge mouths exploded through the surface. We couldn’t help ourselves, our excitement and exhilaration were so great – we spontaneously erupted into applause and cheers. (And this filled the third 24 hours of our most wonderfully overwhelming day.)
It’s 9 PM, and I feel quite sure that today must have begun 72 hours ago. Twenty-four hours couldn’t possibly hold so much. It is wonderfully overwhelming.
It all started an hour before breakfast, when we were awoken by these words over the p.a., “Good morning, good morning everyone. It’s 6:30 AM, and there are five killer whales near the ship.” Two of them had the unmistakable, six-foot tall dorsal fins of adult males. A mother and calf swam side by side. As we focused our attention on the orcas, we were all surprised when a humpback whale surfaced close by the ship. The two species appeared indifferent towards one another, and the humpback swam off towards the shoreline. At times the orcas were in very close contact with one another, rolling and rubbing. Their round pectoral flippers came above the surface, as did the curled tail flukes of the large males. They lobtailed, spyhopped, and even breached! When they swam under the bow of the ship, we could see their black and white bodies through the water. We eavesdropped with a hydrophone, and heard their whistles and clicks. Sea Lion turned away, and we headed below for breakfast. (Our first 24 hours happened before 7:30 AM.)
When we arrived in Pavlof Harbor, a brown bear and two cubs were walking on the beach. Half a mile away, another sow and cub walked near the river. Thousands of pink (humpback) salmon schooled at the river mouth, while others struggled over rocky shallows towards the falls. Their backs and tails were visible above the surface as they splashed over the rocks. Some of us watched from kayaks, while others walked the shore, past numerous salmon carcasses and piles of bear scat. A large, flat rock just beneath the fish ladder apparently served as an eating platform - it was strewn with salmon gills and bones and milt. Bears prefer salmon eggs and brains, and many of the salmon carcasses had bite marks through the skulls. Bears had been digging for roots in the streamside vegetation, rounding out their high protein diets with plant material. It was no surprise when we saw another sow with two cubs near the river; this was clearly an important feeding area for many bears.
The salmon had returned from the open ocean to this stream where they’d hatched. Now they poured every last drop of their lives into spawning, and by now many of them had white fungus and rot on their fins. The energy of so many lives struggling and ending was palpable. (Our second 24 hours was among the salmon and bears at Pavlof Harbor.)We continued north through Chatham Strait, where we paused to watch a humpback whale, and then another brown bear with two yearlings on shore. A slide presentation on marine mammals was interrupted by the sighting of another humpback whale, and after the talk we watched a scattered group of eight humpbacks surfacing and swimming slowly.
The bridge had sighted a more active group of whales in the distance, and we approached with excited anticipation. These whales were engaged in cooperative bubble net feeding! After seeing a tight clump of blows and tail flukes, we waited and watched for them to surface. Four and a half minutes later, ten whales (perhaps as many as fourteen?) burst through the surface, mouths open. A couple of fifteen foot long pectoral flippers stood out among the crowd of open whale mouths. The spectacle was amazing, and it was repeated over and over as the whales followed a school of herring around a small island. We put the hydrophone in the water, hoping to hear the feeding calls they make to scare the herring. A naturalist imitated the feeding call for us, and a moment later the whales’ own feeding calls came over the hydrophone. How eerie and wonderful the sound was! Their dive times shortened until finally we started hearing their calls only seconds after they dove. Within two minutes, a pair of pectoral flippers and more than ten huge mouths exploded through the surface. We couldn’t help ourselves, our excitement and exhilaration were so great – we spontaneously erupted into applause and cheers. (And this filled the third 24 hours of our most wonderfully overwhelming day.)
