When my wife and I undertook a self-drive holiday in USA, an Alaskan cruise was also part of the plan. But the planned mode of our Alaska visit took an unexpectedly pleasant turn when my former IIT Madras classmate (now settled in California) offered to fly us over Alaska in his four-seater Mooney propeller aircraft. The result was a 12-day sky, water and land tour of Alaska, averaging approximately two hours of flying each day.
The three of us boarded the aircraft at Reid-Hillview airport in San Jose. Reaching Petersburg involved six hours of flying. The aerial views of the Cascade mountain range, spanning the states of California, Oregon and Washington, were breathtaking. We flew past Mt. Shasta, Three Sisters, Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Rainier, flying just 800 feet away from them, almost grazing over their tips, as it seemed. The highlight was Mt. St. Helens, which is 8365 feet high and has a crater formed after a cataclysmic volcano erupted in 1980, ripping a 1000-ft-high chunk off the summit, the eruption column rising 80000 feet into the atmosphere, depositing ash in 11 U.S states and destroying forests and wildlife over a 230-square-mile range. We felt an adrenalin rush when the plane flew just over this crater.
At Petersburg, we stayed in a flat attached to the Petersburg fish processing plant (one of the biggest in Alaska), courtesy the factory manager, an acquaintance of my pilot-classmate. The tour through the plant provided an insight into the commercial fishing and fish-processing industry in Alaska. The next day involved a leisurely morning walk on Nordic Drive, the main street in Petersburg, and an evening drive around the entire island.
The following day involved a cruise to the LeConte glacier. The ferry stopped 200 feet from the glacier, for us to take in the fabulous sights of the blue shining glacier. The eerie silence was interrupted occasionally by the deafening noise of a glacier chunk caving into the sea with a thud, as happens in all tide water glaciers. Other highlights of the cruise were watching sea lions climbing onto the buoys and lower mountain slopes, otters swimming and harbour seals lazing on ice floats. The ferry captain steered the boat at a crawling speed, almost grazing the bigger ice bergs, so that we could stretch out our hands through the windows and touch them – a unique thrill that brought out the child in us.
In Seward, our cruise to Kenai Fjords provided us the rare opportunity of watching the antics of humpback whales in the wild. A pair of them performed acrobatics in front of us for over half an hour, keeping all of us spell-bound. In addition, the cruise gave us a repeat sight of sea lions, harbour seals, swarms of puffins flying and perching on the hillsides and flying bald eagles.
In Wrangell Island, our cruise to the Anan Bay forest turned out to be truly the most unique wildlife sight we have experienced. The ferry ride to Anan Bay began with feverish expectations, as we were all assured definite sightings of bear hunting salmon. With no regular jetty on shore, we disembarked in ankle-deep water and walked one-and-a-half miles on a rustic trail made of wooden planks and no railings, to reach the observation tower. The guide told us that if we saw bears close-by on the way, we should keep making noises by talking loud or singing or just hollering, so that they would shy away. We did see a few soon after disembarking, but not close enough to warrant making noise. We reached a small watch tower and were thrilled to find at least six of the big black animals just across the gently flowing fresh water, trying to catch salmon.
I had read up on the unique life cycle of the Pacific salmon, which are hatched in fresh water, grow and then swim over to the ocean’s salt-laden water, and return after a few years to the place of their birth in fresh water, where they spawn and die; also, how they compulsively overcome many hardships to make this return journey to their spawning grounds – what we saw in those two hours was a demonstration of what I had read, in front of my eyes.
The sight of thousands of salmon swimming against the current and managing to scale the 10-to-15-ft height to land on the higher level plateau has to be seen to be believed. Many of the salmon make a flying dash uphill and get caught mid-air by the bear. They put out their strong paws and pick up the salmon with almost 100 per cent success. We saw a big bully bear driving the others away from its strategic salmon-catching spot. One of our team members painstakingly counted; it caught 61 salmon in two hours. One bear had lowered himself into the narrow space between two parallel rock faces just above the water, and after fattening himself with the salmon feast, found it impossible to wriggle out of that space and free himself. We also noticed that the bear eat only the nutritious parts of the salmon and leave the rest for birds and predators. The reason is the bears need the nutrition to sustain them during their winter hibernation when they cannot hunt. Bears are omnivorous and eat berries and wild vegetation like skunk cabbage when fish are not available.
As we returned from the Bay, we were awestruck, thinking of the instincts Nature has ingrained into this remarkable species of fish. No wonder, the salmon’s life cycle is a constant subject of scientific research.
