Tag Archives: Southeast Alaska

Abundance. From Abundance : Spawning Herring

The First Fish

After winter’s thaw and before salmon return to their natal rivers an important, silver fish appears by the millions along the northwest coast of North America. Spawning Pacific Herring provide a kickstart to the bounty of Southeast Alaska. Their oily flesh provides critical protein for migrating seabirds and returning whales and their eggs provide needed food to migrating shorebirds which have flown thousands of miles from their winter grounds. When herring spawn in abundance they attract abundance.

Herring, Kelp, Herring Eggs, Rockweed
A spawned-out herring lies among the rockweed in an estuary of SE Alaska.
Humpback Whale, Spawning, Herring, Alaska
This Humpback Whale is feeding on thousands of herring gathered in the mouth of an estuary.

The Morning As It Happened

I didn’t set out with a group of friends at 4:15AM on a clear day in Alaska in pursuit of herring. Actually, it was for birds. The “Global Big Day” is an opportunity for birders around the world to submit what they see over 24 hours to a global database which tracks and counts birds. Even if you are not a birder, you probably know that early mornings have the highest bird activity – have you ever had them wake you up?

Sunrise, old growth, tongass
We arrived at our destination right as the sun broke over the horizon and streamed through the old growth of the Tongass.

We arrived at our destination, stepped from our cars, and began to walk down a local trail. The sun burst on the horizon and its warmth only inflamed the calls of the birds. Townsend’s Warblers, thrushes, juncos, hummingbirds, and so many more! As we reached the tide flats about 20 minutes later we saw a large collection of the symbol of United States – the Bald Eagle. As it is unusual to see them in such large numbers I was curious to know why they gathered. With camera in hand I shifted my focus to that group of birds which were nearly a mile away on the coastline

Eagle, Herring, Alaska
This was only one group of the many eagles that congregated on the beach. There were four groups equally as large as this one spread across the coastline.

The walk was longer than it looked! It took 20 minutes to get closer to the eagles and as our path wound down an estuary river we began to see what the fuss was all about : flashing herring were spawning in the rockweed. Other pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Looking out at the ocean a large pack of Stellar’s Sealions patrolled the water, twelve harbor seals floated nearby, gulls passed over head continuously, a flock of Least Sandpipers flew by squeaking and squawking, and a Humpback Whale glided through the water only a few feet from the shore. They were here for one reason only – the abundant food.

Herring As Food

Herring, tide, trapped
These herring were trapped by the receding tide. Eagles, gulls, and ravens were able to scoop up as many as their bellies could hold.

There are about 290 calories per fillet (143g) of herring and 26% of your daily intake of fat. For wildlife they are nutrient powerhouses worth working for. Diving seabirds specialize in capturing them and Humpback Whales have perfected scooping them up in their huge mouth. However, very little effort was needed to catch herring this day. Some of the herring were trapped by the receding tide and flopped on the rockweed. All around us were torn and mangled bodies of fish had been eaten by the swarms of eagles, gulls, and ravens through the night. The Humpback Whale lunge-fed dozens of times on the spawning herring as we watched.

Abundance. From Abundance.

The film below showcases what we saw that morning. I hope it gives you a sense of place and a connection to the importance of herring and the necessity of keeping them abundant. The images below show off just a small slice of the wildlife frenzy around the herring that morning.

Abundance is created from abundance. I was so fortunate to watch these sites unfold before my eyes. It caused me to reflect on the importance of a healthy herring population. Healthy herring populations create thriving fishing industries, maintain bustling eco-tourism opportunities through whale watching and other marine activities, provide food for wildlife, and provide the continuation of the cultural practices of coastal people that have relied on them since time immemorial. As the base of the food chain a healthy herring population is critical for a thriving ecosystem that provides for people and wildlife. Here’s the catch – not all herring populations are healthy.

Herring need your help – they need you to care about them. They are in decline due to overfishing and changes in the ocean. Particularly harmful is the sac roe fisheries which net up herring right before spawning when they are the most vulnerable. The sac roe fishery is highly profitable and creates a luxury food item – herring roe – for mainly Asian markets. Herring fisheries have a history of collapsing under industrial fishing pressure. With marked declines in SE Alaska and Canadian herring population occurring, that knowledge alone makes it impossible for me to support an industry that creates a luxury item and supports only a small portion of the fishing fleet. I do not believe the cost (loss of other fishing industries, marine mammal reduction, seabird die offs) are nearly worth the benefit (a luxury item). I encourage you to do your research on this topic, but believe we need to err on the side of caution and halt fisheries that harvest at the bottom of the food chain. If you believe what I am saying rings true then please consider advocating to your representative or joining your voice to Herring Advocacy Groups.

Celebrating the Colors of Low Tide

Peer into a tide pool and there is one thing you will notice for sure : all of that color!! Sea creatures with oddly shaped legs, flippers, fins, tentacles, tongues, and feet will dazzle you with their complex, rainbow coloring. Every nook has a new wonder to behold, and shifting your eyes to peer into a new cranny brings more new content than turning your TV’s channel. The combination of clear water and ROYGBIV-colored creatures abounding in our local coastal waters delighted my wife and I during a recent low-tide cycle in Southeast Alaska.

Of all the creatures of the sea the Sea Star must have the most color variation. These are all Mottled Starfish and check out all of those colors – ROYGBIV!

Starry ROYGBIV

Walking along the water’s edge is one of my fierce joys of living along the coast. On that sunny day, my wife and I traversed the low tide line and the bottom of the inter-tidal world, abandoned by the ocean, laid bare in front of us in the fresh air. Hundreds of Sea Stars exposed by the receding water sat perched on the exposed sand and rocks, thrilling us. Black, blue, red, gray, green and everything in between. Camera in hand, I photographed each new variant and learned more as I looked closer. There was more than just different colors – each color had different shades. There were four or five shades of every color of starfish we found meaning I only captured a small slice of them below!

It is not intuitive to bring a 150mm macro lens to to a tidepool, but I found that limiting myself to that lens made me focus on the small details of each creature along the beach and in the tidepools. Here’s a mosaic of Mottled Sea Stars – each image was made along the same beach during the same tide. Look at those colors!

A Split World

Phytoplankton and small marine invertebrates drive Southeast Alaska’s abundant ocean resources. In the summer, those creatures turn the water green and cloudy – you may have heard of “marine snow”. However, after a long cold winter like we’d just come through the water is extremely clear due to a season of low light and low temps. With those conditions in mind, I brought my underwater housing and dome port and sought to tie together sealife with their surroundings. I am very happy with the final images which capture the full story of low-tide in this mountainous, coastal region.

This Sunflower Sea Star is a top predator of the ocean bottom and grows up to 3.3 feet across. They have a lot of legs (16 – 24 of them) which they use to out-maneuver and catch a variety of creatures. I used an underwater housing to document this individual in the shallow water surrounded by mountains.
Sea Stars have a tendency to gather on any rocks in a sand bottom. I think this is because the currents are less likely to detach them from a rock. In the clear water, the sunlight rippled like firing neurons across the bottom.
On the outer point of a rock outcrop I found this collection of starfish, urchins, and Christmas Anemones. A nest of color!
I love the context of this shot. You can see the Mottled Sea Stars caught above the low tide line and a large group just below the water’s surface.
Although they lack the color variation of the Sea Stars, these Plumous Aneomone are intensely colored and very beautiful! In this image they’ve colonized a dock piling.

Tidal Macros

Although Mottled Sea Stars are by far the most common of the sea stars in our area, they have some unique and vibrant relatives. The large red specimen below is a Vermillion Sea Star (Check out NOAA’s Guide) and the smaller pink one is a Northern ScarletStar. Their skin is so different than the Mottled Star! It appears to make it more breathable and flexible. I wish I knew why!

I believe this is a Northern ScarletStar. After posting it to my social media feeds a few of my followers said it reminded them of Peach from “Finding Nemo” and Patrick from “Spongebob Squarepants”. I can see the resemblance of each!

Green Anemones, despite their electric green color, are easy to overlook. They seek small, sheltered spaces and are a few inches in size. By putting your nose at the water’s surface you can truly appreciate their beauty. Fine striping in their tentacles and a green and yellow mosaic of colors on their flat surfaces. A beautiful animal!

Snorkeling the Low Tide

The following week I set out for another low tide, but this time it was a +3.2 tide – 6.7 feet higher than the extreme lows I’ve documented above. The water conditions were very different in the new estuary I explored. Tanins and silt washed in from spring melt and phytoplankton blooms added to the cloudy water. In the shallow waters, the cloudiness filtered the sun’s rays and added to the beauty of the scenes only a few feet below me. The currents slowly pushed me along the shore and I floated in my drysuit with my face in the water. The species diversity and multitude of colors mesmerized me!!

In the shallow waters of the estuary I found vibrant colors and animals. I love the story of this image – the sun’s rays filtering through plankton filled waters which are filtered out by all sorts of creatures like this Plumous Anemone.
A Mottled Sea Star clings onto the hard surface of a rock.
One of the perks of snorkeling compared to tidepooling was that the Christmas Anemones were fully open. They are beautiful when fully unfurled!
So many elements in this image! 4 ore more species of seaweed are tied together by a starfish and orange anemones.
Brown fronds of kelp coated the rocks and bottom as I floated along in my snorkel and drysuit. Their rich tones were accented by the sunlight shining through them.
This is probably the brightest hermit crab I’ve ever seen, especially juxtaposed against the hues of the brown algae surrounding it.

I would be remiss if I didn’t reflect on the joy these colors of nature brought me in the era of quarantine and shelter-in-place. To me it was another example of how slowing down and taking time to learn new things, enjoy more fully the time you have outside, and seeking opportunities to truly observe your surroundings is cathartic and valuable. You may not have a tidepool in your backyard and I hope my pictures have brought you joy, but here’s the reality : you don’t need a tidepool. Walking outdoors and taking a closer look will reveal amazing things. Microsms of color inside of microsms of textures inside of microsms of smells that will leave you hungry for more!

An Itch For Dark Skies

In July 2018 I was back on familiar ground in Minnesota. My home town is set in a classic Midwestern setting. Sprawling farm fields with rows of potatoes, corns, and beans. Wheat and barley fields with sprawling prairie oaks from remnants of prairies that were. As my passion for photography has grown I have found new ways to appreciate and observe its beauty. As with most of the places I go, I had an itch to go into the night and see the familiar landscape in a new light (or lack of it). The clear, moonless skies and warm nights brought me into the darkness like a moth attracted to the light.

My dad and I drove north under ink dark skies. With the Milky Way core rising at midnight, I wanted to make sure that we were in place by 11:30. We had scouted an old, abandoned farmstead the day before and sought it out along the country roads. The night was calm and a heavy dew lay on the grass. Crickets chirped and my camera clicked. A peaceful start to a peaceful evening.

Moving on from the farm we continued north to our land. We opened the orange metal gate at its entrance and drove through. In the familiar, 50 acre pasture an old Paper Birch and Burr Oak stood juxtaposed against the short grasses below. We worked together to light paint the trees and surrounding pasture. As I made the images the night hit its dew point and fog rolled over the pasture and fogged my lens. This inconvenience ultimately dampened my shooting and we packed up my gear and headed home.

The images below are the result of my journeys into the night over a few days. They are a new way of looking at and remembering the countryside I grew up in. They fuse together elements of my home with elements in the sky and for me lock in memories of those nights out.

Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, MidwestMilky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest Milky Way, Minnesota, Galaxy, Butler, Midwest

 

Feeling Grateful on an Autumn Day

Some days are destined to be better than others and due to the probability of the seasons it has a 25% chance of being a day in autumn. There is something magical to the season wrapped into the death, color, and distinct smells it manifests each year. Fall mornings immerse all of your senses: the bite on your nose of frost in the morning, musk of decaying leaves, the sound or crunching leaves, and brilliant colors of foliage make the season like none other.
The magic and of the day started as soon as my eyes opened. I stepped from my bedroom to watch a subtle and beautiful sunrise over Neka Mountain and Port Frederick. As I sipped my coffee and watched from the window the warm colors of low sunlight started from the peak of Neka Mountain and progressed to its base. I smiled and thought through the possibilities of the day. The plan for the day was simple : go fishing and bring a camera.

Sunrise, Port Frederick, Hoonah, Neka Mountain
I enjoyed the sunrise over Port Frederick in Hoonah, Alaska while I sipped on a cup of coffee. You can see the autumn colors of the muskegs near the summit of the mountain

Down in the River

Eight miles out of town Spasski River held the promise of fish and bears. I strolled through a muskeg full of color. 4-leaved, 4-inch tall, Bunchberry Dogwoods had transformed into red fireworks with colors nearing a poinsettia and lingering frost framed the sharp edges of sedges and grass. I crossed out of the muskeg and descended the banks of the river passing giant sentinels of Hemlocks and Spruces. Once in the river the circular ripples in the surface of the water over my fishing hole gave hint to the presence of Cohos below. Peering in I counted fourty 40 or more fish and noted some of them had turned the dark red of the season.
After 15 minutes of fruitlessly flinging my pink fly into the school of Cohos a pair of bears showed up on the river bank. I watched as the sow and cub came closer and stepped into the open so they could see me. The cub trailed closely behind the mother and after a couple of my woops acknowledging I was there they passed into the tall grass of the river bank.

Coastal Brown Bear, Spasski, Spasski River, Icy Strait Point
A sow and cub meanered up the bank of Spasski River. This encounter gave me insight into the cub’s behavior when I observed it later.

When brown fur came into view again I had the privilege of gaining some insight into bear behavior. The cub emerged alone in the tall grass and it was evident it was very nervous. It stood on its rear feet to sniff the air and then sprinted forward in the long grass while looking back over its shoulder as though being chased by shadows. The young bear stood three more times to look and smell for its mother, but she was not to be found. Mother bears have a reputation of being helicopter parents to protect their cubs from aggressive males trying to kill them. It was evident the cub appreciated the protection of the mother and was nervous to be out of her shadow. When I left the cub and sow had not been reunited, but I was sure the sow had not left the cub as isolated as it thought.

Coastal Brown Bear, Spasski, Spasski River, Icy Strait Point
When I saw the cub next it was looking for mom. It stood up to sniff the air several times.

Coastal Brown Bear, Spasski, Spasski River, Icy Strait Point
You can almost see the worry on the cub’s face. It was looking back and forth in the search for Mom.

With the bears on my brain I decided it was best to stop fishing. I needed to be alert and was not keen on carrying Cohos out knowing the bears may interested in them too. I turned my attention to the scene in front of me. Yellow Salmon Berries reflected off the surface of the river. My eye was led down the scene to the flat top of ear mountain presided over the river. It was a special place to be and I was there to enjoy it alone.

Spasski River, Salmon Berry, Yellow, Foliage, Autumn
The colors of Salmon Berries were accented by the presiding presence of Ear Mountain above Spasski River

Spasski River, Salmon Berry, Yellow, Foliage, Autumn
I framed up the tall spruces along the bank to bring your eye into this shot of autumn colors and mountain

The American Marten

Leaving the bears I encountered the next fiercest mammal of the forests of Chichagof Island : the American Marten. I found it in the compromising position of scavenging trash, and snuck closer whenever it dropped into the green garbage can in front of me. I was about 30 feet away when it spotted me and the necessity for me to move closer was negated by the curious creature. Before long it approached me to within 10 feet and was perhaps trying to decide if I was edible. I stood stock still and it curiously twisted its head back and forth to size me up and stared my camera each time it clicked. The Marten, not totally trusting the large bi-pedal in front of it, dashed into the grass several times as though testing to see if I would pursue. Each time it poked its head up from the grass by standing on its rear feet. Finally bored or perhaps hungry it left the grinning human for good.

American Marten, Chichagof Island, Alaska, Southeast Alaska
A curious American Marten stares at me from just a few feet away.

American Marten, Chichagof Island, Alaska, Southeast Alaska
After popping out the grass several times the marten approached closely from my right side and looked directly at the camera as it snapped and clicked.

Muskegs on Fire

Throughout the day I had stopped several times to stare at and admire the incredible reds and oranges of the muskegs. Red leaves of Wild Blueberry plants transformed the floor the muskeg into fire. The read were accented by the evergreen trees sprouting from the muskeg and by the crystal clear blue skies. However, in one place the red colors were especially vibrant, rivalling the reds of the Maple trees that I grew up with in the Midwest. The beauty of that place held me there for a long time as I photographed it and felt privileged to be there.

Muskeg, Bluberry, Red, Autumn, Colors, Foliage
I was astonished by the intenstity of the red in the muskeg. Fiery reds were resplendent!

Muskeg, Bluberry, Red, Autumn, Colors, Foliage
A parting shot. Adios to autumn colors!

Muskeg, Bluberry, Red, Autumn, Colors, Foliage
The sun shines brighly over brilliant red Wild Blueberries

Transition in Suntaheen

From the fiery muskeg I descended to the quenching silence of the Suntaheen River valley. Along the river I found autumn to be in full progress. Red Alders sheltered the slow flowing river with amber leaves. The fallen leaves of those trees covered the rocky river bank like the yellow brick road. Beams of sunlight backlit trickled through the canopy and individually lit some of the fallen leaves. Groves of Devils Club along the river’s bank were turning a vibrant yellow and sunlight poked through their decaying leaves.

Devil's Club, Autumn, Color, Yellow
A Devil’s Club transitions from green to yellow.

Devil's Club, Autumn, Color, Yellow
Sunlight streams through the decaying leaf of a Devils’ Club.

Devil's Club, Autumn, Color, Yellow ,River
Suntaheen river floats lazily by rocks and shores covered in the gold of fallen leaves.

A frost-kissed Oak Fern was stripped of its green cholorphyll, and sunslight streamed through its white skeleton.

In the river I was reminded by of the salmon that had choked its waters only a month before. Scattered ribs, spines, and salmon jaws lay where the carcass had been eaten by a bear or had simply died. The bones were devoid of flesh and provided evidence the fish’s energy had already been absorbed by its sourrounding environment. Its nitrogen and energy mingled with the decaying leaves of the trees above cycling to ultimately feed to tiny fish emerging from the eggs buried in the gravel. Some days are just better than others. On this beautiful day I felt blessed to watch nature, learn something new, enjoy the transition of seasons, and observe the cycle of seasons.

Pink Salmn, Alaska, Jaw, Teeth,
A Pink Salmon’s jaw and its jutting teeth perches along the river. The river bank was littered with dozens of these jawbones from months-old dead salmon.

The Waters, Wildlife, and Culture Between the Glaciers and Hoonah, Alaska

It is always a big deal when family comes to visit. For me, being a “big deal” is a positive thing! My wife and I are fortunate to live in a place surrounded by natural beauty with something to see or do around every corner. I always strive to show off my little corner of the world in Hoonah, Alaska  and decided that my parents, uncle, and two cousins needed to see Glacier Bay National Park and the local whales around Hoonah during their visit. It’s nice when all the right things come together to bring “the full package”! We enjoyed incredible weather and wildlife sightings over 2.5 days.

Whale Tail, Hoonah, Alaska

Glacier Bay Tribal House

Over the last 2 years I have had the incredible experience to be at the dedication of the tribal house and to take part in the raising of two totems at the tribal house. Those two events were so very important to the Huna Tlingit, but they also gave me a tremendous connection to Bartlett Cove and the land where the Huna Shuka Hit resides. When I visit the tribal house I remember the stories of the people, the emotions of the day, and the power of the place. Stepping into the tribal house to observe the house poles, place my hand on the intricate carving of the screens, and smell the sweet aroma of cedar give me a sense of peace. I enjoyed sharing my stories of the raising and dedication with family as we toured around that special place.

Glacier Bay National Park, Tribal House, Huna Shuka Hit, Totem Pole, Carving, Southeast Alaska, Alaska
This is the inside screen of Huna Shuka Hit. This place is incredible to behold and every sense has a new observation to provide your brain as you probe into it complex artistry.

Into the Park

Glacier Bay National Park is almost completely inaccessible unless you have a boat. Its long fjords and glacially-carved mountains extend nearly 90 miles from the entrance of the park at Bartlett Cove.  The “Day Boat” of Glacier Bay provides access to visitors all the way to the end of the bitter end of the west arm where Margerie Glacier butts against the ocean and the Grand Pacific Glacier (responsible for carving the fjord of the park) recedes into the distance further than the eye can see.  250 years ago the Grand Pacific Glacier was responsible for pushing the Huna Tlingit out of Glacier Bay National Park when it advanced over 75 miles in only only a few decades. Traditional stories say that at times the glacier moved as fast as a running dog! Science has backed those claims, and it is truly amazing to think what that wall of ice must have looked like!

Family, Glacier Bay National Park, Southeast Alaska, Alaska
We made it to the glacier! My mom, dad, and I in front of Magerie Glacier in Glacier Bay National Park.

Margerie Glacier, Glacier Bay National Park, Southeast Alaska, Alaska
The face of Margerie glacier stands over 200 feet high and is a mile wide. It “calves” ice into the water creating a maze of jumbled ice.

Glacier Bay National Park protected area full of marine and terrestrial wildlife. During our tour we had incredible view of breaching Humpback Whales, families of grizzlies, harems of sealions, rafts of otters, flocks of puffins, and families of goats. Each of these sightings added to the richness of the day and the overpowering feeling that we were in a very special place!

Stellar Sea Lion, Glacier Bay National Park, Southeast Alaska, Alaska
A Stellar Sealion bull chases a pup on the rocks of South Marble Island.

Porcupine, Glacier Bay National Park, Southeast Alaska, Alaska
A porcupine keeps a wary eye on me – half trusting that I meant it no harm.

Brown Bear, Glacier Bay National Park, Southeast Alaska, Alaska
A family of 4 Coastal Brown Bears surveys the scene.

Gloomy Knob, Mountain Goat, Glacier Bay National Park, Southeast Alaska, Alaska
A nanny Mountain Goat and her young (~ 2 week old) kid

Humpback Whale, Breaching, Glacier Bay National Park, Southeast Alaska, Alaska
A breaching Humpback Whale as we trekked into Glacier Bay National Park.

Sea Otter, Glacier Bay National Park, Southeast Alaska, Alaska
A Sea Otter floats on by. Sea Otters have risen to such numbers in the park that they are at risk of eating themselves out of house and home.

The Whale Tail to End the Tale

We got a pickup in Gustavus from our good friend Capt. Billy Mills of Wooshketaan Tours.  He took us across Icy Strait to Point Adolphus which is renowned for its whale watching. The rich waters are fed by the currents coming in from the ocean and from Glacier Bay and create abundant fish populations that bring in apex predators such as whales and sea lions.

Whale, Eagle, Alaska, Southeast Alaska, Whale Watching
A Humpback Whale emerges from the water with an eagle in the background.

As we sped along the 20 miles from Point Adolphus to Hoonah I admired the mountains, the tall groves of Sitka Spruce and Hemlock, and the abundant Sea Otters and Whales.  The trip went quickly, and as we approached Flynn cove about 8 miles from Hoonah a gigantic splash ahead of us flung water high in the air. The Humpback Whale that caused it obliged us by breaching 5 times in total! It was the closest I had ever been to a breaching humpback and it was a thrill to share my giddiness with all on board!

Humpback Whale, Alaska, Breaching, Jumping, Southeast Alaska, Hoonah, Whale Watching, Wooshketan Tours
A breaching Humpback Whale erupts from the water outside of Hoonah, Alaska. What a sight!!

Humpback Whale, Alaska, Breaching, Jumping, Southeast Alaska, Hoonah, Whale Watching, Wooshketan Tours
A breaching Humpback Whale erupts from the water outside of Hoonah, Alaska. What a sight!!

With the memory of the breaching still fresh in  our memory we turned into Port Frederick and after a brief stop ashore made our way up bay . The spouts of water ahead quickly gave the location of what we were looking for – a large pod of Humpback Whales were bubble net feeding in front of us! In the smooth waters we watched the circle of bubbles form on the surface from the whales below and the mouths of 40-foot humbpacks rise agape through the surface. We were the only boat on the water and got to enjoy the show in the lingering sunset and surrounded by family. I (we) were incredibly blessed to be in that incredible place together.

Humpback Whale, Alaska, Breaching, Jumping, Southeast Alaska, Hoonah, Whale Watching, Wooshketan Tours, Bubblenet Feeding
Bubble Net Feeding Humpback Whales erupt from the water in Port Frederick, Hoonah, Alaska. In the behavior, the whales coordinate an under water screen of bubbles that concentrate baitfish before the whale synchronously scoop of the ball of fish.

Humpback Whale, Alaska, Breaching, Jumping, Southeast Alaska, Hoonah, Whale Watching, Wooshketan Tours
Two Humpback Whales begin to dive in search of food.

A Mink in the Mussels

A few months back I was walking the shores of Hoonah, Alaska with my wife when we saw a furry brown streak shoot out of the rocks along the ocean. With smiles of pleasure we watched as the mink dove under a thick bed of green, leafy, rock weed that covered the rocks exposed by the low-tide and erupted from it a few feet from where its nose had entered. Like a swimmer diving through water it dove and emerged again and then it changed tactics. Like a cat playing with its paws inside of an empty brown bag it shuffled and flipped the weeds looking for any wriggling food underneath. I knew that the weeds hide small fish, crabs, and sea-cucumbers and any of those would have been a feast for this small mammal.

In its focused pursuit of food, the Mink payed me little regard as I moved closer. Soon I was within 10 feet of this active animal. I followed it along the shore for 50 yards enjoying  and watching its behaviors. I had not considered how many holes were in the rocks until the Mink poked its head into nearly every one of them systematically!  The Mink disappeared into a rock outcropping thick with rock weed and emerged with a sculpin as its prize. Although sculpin have heavy spines in their head, the mink crunched through the whole carcasses and even the bony head before heading to another rock outcropping to find some more.

The Mink consumes a sculpin that it scavenged from under the rock weed.

The Mink disappeared under a large bolder laced in blue mussels. I made my move and walked across the beach and stepped on top of the bolder. When the Mink reemerged it looked up and me and ducked back into the rocks. Obviously unsure if it was safe to come out but too curious to care it soon reappeared, took a glance at me, and then started to forage in the rocks under my feet. I was only 7 feet away from the lithe body as it scurried and poked and made me smile.

I’ve thought quite a bit about that Mink in the mussels since then because the opportunity was, well, opportune and I took the chance to watch and learn. In a world where everything is the next biggest priority this Mink was a reminder to stop and smell the roses. My advice to you is when you have a chance to sit, watch, and learn, take it. Whatever comes next can wait a bit.

A mink comes out of the rocks after scouting around for food. I watched this cute little bugger dive around in the rocks for almost 40 minutes.

The Lights and ‘Bergs of Yakutat, Alaska

In the north end of Southeast Alaska lies Yakutat, Alaska. The community sits in a cathedral of mountains that make up Kluane National Park and Reserve. Among its peaks, Mt. Saint Elias soars to over 18,000 feet, earning it the title of second highest mountain in the U.S. and Canada.. All of the mountains are snow covered and laced with glaciers. They create remarkable, never ending scenery when the sun is shining and at night they provide a remarkable backdrop for the Northern Lights.

Yakutat Glacier, Aurora, Iceberg, Northern Lights, Alaska
An iceberg floats under the Northern Lights in Harlequin Lake.

Forty-five minutes outside of Yakutat plus a 20 minute hike will bring you to Harlequin Lake. The lake is at the outflow of Yakutat Glacier, possibly the fastest retreating glacier in the world, which dumps a constant supply of ice into it the lake’s waters. We arrived at 10PM as the aurora was starting to intensify into a solid green band. Icebergs floated in the lake like ice cubes in a drink. They were  about 30 feet from shore which left me in a dilemma – go into the lake to bring the icebergs closer in my photos, or be happy with images from the shore? As the aurora exploded overhead into pinks and greens it made my choice clear.

My boots and then socks came off quickly and I sucked in my breath as I stepped into the frigid water. It crept over my knees and then to my mid-thighs before I finally stopped wading in. The aurora was still dancing overhead and the adrenaline kept my mind off my numbing feet. I stepped out of the water a few times to warm up, but was forced back into the water by the beauty of the combination of ice and aurora. The fifth time back in the water was nearly unbearable! I finally conceded that it was time to warm up, not knowing the climax of the night would come after I put my boots back on.

Yakutat Glacier, Aurora, Iceberg, Northern Lights, Alaska

When a glacier “calves” a chunk of ice breaks from it and crashes into the water forming a bouncing baby iceberg. It was evident from the gigantic sound coming from across the lake, that Yakutat Glacier was calving off a behemoth chunk of ice. The cannon-like roar that boomed across the lake accented the dancing Northern Lights overhead. The goosebumps stood up on my arms from the power of the moment. It was a fitting end to one of coldest and most memorable nights of Northern Lights watching that I have done.

Yakutat Glacier, Aurora, Iceberg, Northern Lights, Alaska

The aurora storm (kp5) lasted for another night and aligned with clear skies – a two night feature of cloudless skies which is unusual for Yakutat in October. There are many areas close to town that are devoid of light pollution, and I departed to Grave Yard Beach outside of Yakutat which is most famous for its surfing.  Adding to the sound of the gentle surf, the ocean-side location provided open skies for the aurora to dance, reflections in the sand, and a moonrise over the mountains. Whenever I return to Yakutat again, it will be impossible not to think of these two remarkable nights in the darkness and under the lights.

Yakutat Glacier, Aurora, Iceberg, Northern Lights, Alaska
“The Double Dipper” – Ursa Major reflects in the sand and shines in the sky.

Yakutat Glacier, Aurora, Iceberg, Northern Lights, Alaska Yakutat Glacier, Aurora, Iceberg, Northern Lights, Alaska

Local Fungi to Dye For

Everyone knows that some mushrooms are edible, but did you know that certain species of fungi and lichen can create dye for yarn and other materials in every spectrum of the rainbow?  When Bessette wrote her book “The Rainbow Beneath My Feet: A Mushroom Dyers Field Guide”, she was being quite literal! I had the unique opportunity to scout for local dyeing mushrooms as part of a workshop led by SE Alaska mycologist Karen Dillman. We used the newly acquired mushrooms to dye yarn and silks. There is no doubt that I look at the forest floor with a different level of detail now! I think I may be hooked on this unique form of creating color.

All of these colors and more can be produced by mushrooms and lichens. Colors vary on species and treatment of the fungi while boiling.

A Bit of History

Natural dyes extracted from plants, minerals, and even fungi and lichens have been used for more than 5,000 years. In Europe, Karen explained that classic tweed colors in Scotland were extracted from lichens (Parmelia saxatilis). In Southeast Alaska, the bright yellow colors for Tlingit Chilkat Robes were derived from a lichen now called wolf moss. Within the United States the formalization of the process  of dyeing with mushrooms and the resulting mushroom dyeing renaissance occurred when Miriam C. Rice began experimenting with and documenting the colors that each species of fungi and lichen created. Her resulting publications have inspired countless research studies since then and a wave of newborn mushroom dyeing enthusiasts.

The Fungi and Lichens of Dyeing

Picking the right fungi or lichen for the right color is a crucial first step in producing your dyes.  Fortunately the old growth forests in Southeast Alaska are ripe with many colorful species of fungi and lichens (a side fact – there are thousands of species of fungi and about 1000 documented lichen in Southeast Alaska).  For each of the species of fungi that we dyed with during the workshop I have included the color they produce and the general region they may be found.

  • Lobaria pulmanaria – browns (Southeast Alaska), sometimes called “lungwort”
  • Lobaria oregana – browns (Southeast Alaska), sometimes called “lettuce lichen”
  • Letharia vulpina – bright yellow and green (Idaho up through the Yukon)
  • Parmelia saxatillis – apricot and rusty browns (Southeast Alaska)
  • Orsalia (Umbillicaria genus) – purples (Nova Scotia), Rock Tripe (Umbellicaria) found in Southeast Alaska can produce purples as well.
  • Hydenellum peckii – blue (Southeast Alaska)
  • Hydnellum regium – black (Southeast Alaska)
  • Phaeolus schwinitzii – golds and greens (Southeast Alaska), sometimes called the dyer’s polypore
  • Dermocybes spp. – oranges and yellows (Southeast Alaska)

Fungi and Lichen are picky about the habitats they live in. Most species strongly associate with certain plant communities,  individual species of plants, or types of food (wood, bone, sphagnum, and many other things). For each of the fungi and lichen above you can increase the efficiency of your search by understanding their ecology. Dermocybe species are found at the bases of old growth spruces and hemlocks and the Rock Tripe (Umbella caria) lichen is associated with rock faces, and often grow in the alpine. Of course, mushroom diversity differs by region, so as you are walking around take note of the locations you find your dye mushrooms and look for similar features elsewhere.

Cortinarius, Dermocybe, Dye, Red, Orange
These two species of Dermocybe mushrooms (in the Cortinarius family) are found in Southeast Alaska. One provides vibrant reds and one provides a vibrant orange.

Cortinarius, Dermocybe, Dye, Red, Orange
These are both species of Dermocybe mushrooms found outside of Hoonah, Alaska. It’s pretty obvious which one produces red and which produces orange!

The Process of Dyeing With Fungi

Dyeing with mushrooms is actually quite easy – in many ways finding the mushrooms and getting them in enough quantity to dye with can be the difficult part! The most important thing is to add equal parts fiber (yarn, silks, grass, cedar bark) and mushrooms. The amount of water will not lighten the color of your dye because the dye is attracted to the mordanted yarn, so be sure to add enough water cover your fiber.  Once the mushrooms are in the water, bring the water to a boil. As it heats you’ll immediately see the colors extruded from the mushrooms. You can boil the mushrooms for various amounts of time, and the longer you boil the more intense the colors will become. Straining the mushrooms from the dye is optional. Add the fiber to the dye and simmer the fiber for awhile – it will transform from white to bright!

Fungi Dye, Mushroom, Red
Look at the intense reds that resulted from boiling red Dermocybe mushrooms! When dying with red Dermocybe, be sure to removed their stems or you will end up with an orange dye because the stems are yellow.

When you first begin you may be uncertain of which color will come from each species of mushrooms. To save some time and precious mushrooms you can boil up a bit of water and pour it over a mushroom sample. After 10-15 minutes the color should be evident if the mushroom is useful for dyeing. To test lichens, try adding them to a bit of bleach (be sure it’s newish bleach, old will not work) to extrude the colors.  If you like the colors produced by the test you can boil up the rest of your mushrooms right away or preserve them for later by drying or freezing.

Fungi Dye, mushroom, dye, yarn
Testing your mushroom for color is as simple as pouring some boiling water into it and waiting to see what colors emerge.

In order to derive the most vibrant colors and best results, you will need a bit of luck, some patience and a small knowledge of chemistry. Several of the mushrooms and lichens that we dyed with could be modified by adding alum or iron to the water. These two minerals are preferred because they are non-toxic and can be dumped out safely after the dye is used up. Adding iron to yellow dyes will generally make them turn brown. By changing the pH with soda ash to basic water (pH 9 or 10) you can transform the colors from black to blue when dyeing with Hydnellum suaveolens.  You can keep experimenting to find new chemistry that changes the color – just be sure to closely document what you did!

Most of the fiber materials are “raw” and need to be prepared to accept the dye. You can mordant wool yarn with iron or cream of tarter to achieve different colors. However, mordant is not necessary for lichen dyes, only mushrooms!

The Results

We used the dyes that we created to stain wool yarn and silk scarves. We also experimented with chiton shells from gumboots, and spruce roots. The results were incredible and stunning! Each skein of yarn extracted from the water baths  was draped over the back of a chair to dry and added to the spectrum of color created by it is predecessors.  We were pleased to see that some of the dyes were penetrating enough to color the bone-hard chiton shells and the tough, lignin of the spruce roots. I am a novice knitter, and the incredible vibrancy of the colors produced got me thinking about my next project – whatever that may be.

Fungi Dye, Yarn, Color, Red, Blue, Purple, Orange, Brown, Gray
All of these colors were made from mushrooms and lichens that we boiled during the workshop!

Fungi Dye, Yarn, Color, Red, Blue, Purple, Orange, Brown, Gray
Each of the colors were associated with the mushrooms that they came from on this sheet.

Chiton, Dye, Fungi, Musrhoom, Dermocybe
The red Dermocybe mushrooms were able to dye bone-hard chiton shells.

Thank you to Karen Dillman for introducing these techniques to us! Also thank you to Ron Hamill for his unwavering and undoutable knowledge of fungi. Karen attempted to pass on years of learning and experiments in a short day. To learn more about dyeing with fungi and lichen check out the resource books she recommended.This unique form of creating color is a learn-by-doing process. So, I hope you get out there and do it!

These books can provide a great resource for new and advanced dyers.

Petroglyph Beach : Tlingit Art From Before the Time of the Pyramids

In Wrangell, Alaska the Petroglyph Beach Historic Site is a rocky beach that stretches to the north of the Wrangell Island along the coast. Among the field of kelp, sand, shells and slate-gray rocks are carved the testaments of early Tlingit people from 8,000 years ago. In fact, with over 40 known petroglyphs, the beach contains the highest concentration of petroglyphs in all of Southeast Alaska! These carvings were undoubtedly significant to history Tlingit people, but their true meaning has been lost and shrouded by history.

I enjoyed carefully walking around the site to discover new designs in the rocks. It is hard not to be in awe of this location when thinking about its relation to early human events. Globally at 6,000 BC, the pyramids of Egypt had not started construction, and people were only just starting to practice agriculture. It wasn’t until about 5,000 BC that basic crop cultivation began, and in ~5,700 BC the eruption that formed Oregon’s crater lake began – certainly the Tlingit people felt that blast reverberate up the coast! The carvings are a testament to the long history of Native Alaskan occupation of Southeast Alaska, and their rich cultural history.  Even without fully understanding their meaning you can grasp at their significance.

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
A twisted face and eyes.

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
Faces in the rocks.

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
I am very intrigued by this design. It shaped like the cosmos, but I wonder what it actually represents?

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
Several worn designs barely show through on the rock.

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
Its interesting that the eyes have preserved so much better than the mouth of this petroglyph.

This face is very worn and hard to distinguish.

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
Several faces carved into the rock.

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
An unknown shape, perhaps a primitive mammal sketch?

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
Swirling designs.

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
A bird carved into the rocks.

Wrangell, Alaska, Petroglyph Beach, Historic Site, Petroglyph
A petroglyphic face at Petroglyph Beach in Wrangell

 

Dayboat of Wonders in Glacier Bay National Park

A couple of weekends ago I had the opportunity to tour Glacier Bay National Park with Hoonah’s 5th and 6th grade class. The trip was the culmination of their “Plumes of Glacier Bay” curriculum where they had been studying the species of birds within the park. As an avid birder I was thrilled to bring these 16, rambunctious kids on an ecology trip into the park on the “Dayboat”. The boat travels into the park to pick up travelers and provides an 8.5 hour, 130+ mile cruise to tidewater glaciers with opportunities to view tons of wildlife.

Marjorie Glacier, Glacier Bay National Park, Calving
Marjorie Glacier at the head of Glacier Bay National Park calves into the ocean.

Sea Otter, Glacier Bay National Park
A Sea Otter mother floats with its ups in the cold water of Glacier Bay.

Its not always (one might say rarely) sunny in Glacier Bay. The cold waters and moist air cause rain and fog to form quickly within the park. However, we started out our day under high clouds with small patches of blue sky.  Just after launching, we encountered some choppy water in the passage out of Bartlett Cove. Our on-board park ranger, Jenny, explained that the bottom of the ocean had striations in the sediment from the receding glacier that pushed the water up, often making it choppier than the wind would merit. After 45 minutes of cruising at 20 knots, our first stop along the way was at South Marble Island. This small island offers refuge to nesting Black-legged Kittiwakes, Tufted Puffins, and other colonial sea birds looking to nest away from predators. It also has huge haul-outs of Stellars’s Sealions. The gigantic animals that I like to call “sea grizzlies” because of their immense size (up to 2,000 pounds), lay on the rocks in the sunshine like sausages.  The dominant males sat with back arched and head erect. Their enormous size compared to the others around them made it easy to see why they were the boss.

Our boat cut through the water past South Marble Island, and we moved up the fjord. As we did, the mountains became more jagged and covered in snow. At the mouth of Glacier Bay most the mountains had been covered ice during the last glacial advance which rounded them off over time, but the terrain became more jagged as we moved past mountain tops untouched by the glaciers.  An exception to the jagged mountains was the round, granite dome named “Gloomy Knob”.  On that granite dome were well manicured lawns of grass with sporadic cottonwoods growing in the crevices. The lawns were kept short by overwintering Mountain Goats who grazed the pastures. Just after the spring thaw is the best time to watch the goats, and I think we counted 20 of them on Gloomy Knob. Many of them were feeding their kids, and we got some insight into the bonding of goats with their mothers – one made a spectacle by climbing onto its mothers back.

Gloomy Knob, Mountain Goat, Glacier Bay
A young kid stands on its mother’s back at Gloomy Knob in Glacier Bay

The goats were not the only four-legged mammals on Gloomy Knob. High up in the granite cliffs we spotted a family of four Coastal Brown Bears. They lounged on the rocks, sleeping, perhaps 1,000 feet above our heads. During our passing they roused and moved along the ridgeline. They even passed by a goat on the ledge below them. Although the grizzlies took a look at their potential meal, the Mountain Goat seemed to know it was safe from the predators above, as it never moved a muscle.

Gloom Knob, Coastal Brown Bear, Grizzly, Mountain Goat
A family of grizzlies looks at a goat below them.

Tidewater Glaciers

Sixty-five miles from where we started in Bartlett Cove we finally reached the end of the park. Marjorie Glacier stood in front of us like icy walls. The glacier face is about 350 feet tall and extends nearly a mile from left to right. In many of the pictures, you can see pin-sized Harbor Seals with their pups on the ice flows to lend the glacier some size perspective. Two times the glacier let go of new ice bergs by “calving”. The roar was like thunder of an approaching storm. The glacier, which is currently 21 miles long, has retracted 65 miles. In 1750, it was responsible for pushing the Huna Tlingit from their homeland.  Since the retreat has happened so quickly, there are many studies within the park boundaries to understand how recolonization of rock surfaces occurs. Also, the land around the glacier is springing back up from the weight of the ice in a process known as isostatic rebound. The land rises almost an inch a year which may cause river drainages to change and coast resources like clam beds to come out of the water.

Reid Glacier
The huge face of Reid Glacier near the head of Glacier Bay

Harbor Seals, Tidewater Glacier, Marjorie Glacier
Harbor Seals float in front of Marjorie Glacier.

The students gave the whole boat a treat by performing traditional Tlingit songs at the glacier. Their pounding drums mixed with the grandeur of the scenery for a truly memorable end to the day.  The trip into Glacier Bay was an incredible introduction to this vast and wild park. I look forward to the day when I return for a more detailed look at its beauty.

One of the students plays a drums and sings on the boat near Marjorie Glacier.

The students sing and dance on the boat to traditional Tlingit songs.

Our student group at the head of Glacier Bay National Park.

I was amazed by the lines carved in this rock by the glacier.

A pioneering tree starts to recolonize a the bare rock of this glaciated peninsula. Its possible that the land became available to the tree through isostatic rebound.

A halo from the sun burns through the clouds over the mountains of Glacier Bay.