Icy Strait, Alaska
(Don’t look at the picture yet; I don’t want to give it away too soon!) Icy Strait connects with Cross Sound as the main northern entrance into the protected waterways of Southeast Alaska: Chichagof Island to the south and west, the mainland of Alaska to the north and east. Twice each day strong tidal currents rush in from the Pacific Ocean, then turn and rush out again. The salmon, herring, and other fish that spawn in protected waters and streams enter through this narrow opening. Sounds like a good place for fish-eaters to hang out, eh? With this in mind, the Sea Lion left Juneau and headed for Icy Strait. Early morning found us approaching Point Adolphus on Chichagof Island, an area that is often frequented by humpback whales. They did not disappoint. Having but recently completed their long northward journey from their wintering and breeding waters off of the Hawaiian Islands, they were busily feeding to begin the summer task of restoring body condition and replenishing stores of blubber. Food seemed to be close to the water surface so the dives were shallow and frequent. At least one female was accompanied by her young calf, like many of us, making its first visit to Alaska. We moved towards the Inian Islands, which separate Icy Strait from Cross Soundand and stopped to watch Steller’s sea lions strategically positioned to take a toll from passing salmon. Gulls of several species were waiting to clean the table scraps.
U.S. Coast Guard regulations require that we conduct a lifeboat drill, and so we pulled away into more open water for this activity. And then…(OK, you can look at the picture now) our drill was interrupted by a sighting of killer whales (also known as orca). Life vests were forgotten and we rushed to the bow. The Naturalists huddled: were these the fish-eating “resident” or the marine mammal-eating “transient” type of killer whales? The size of the group, fifteen or more, and subtle characteristics of their markings suggested the former, and this was confirmed when we saw them rushing after salmon and even spotted one with a salmon hanging from its mouth. There were several males with tall, erect dorsal fins; females and immature whales have smaller and more curved (we call it falcate) fins. We were particularly excited to spot a small calf swimming closely by the side of its mother.
After great looks at the killer whales all around the ship we departed for our afternoon spent kayaking and walking in the forest at Fox Creek, on Chichagof Island, from which we returned wet but happy.
Our good fortune continued after dinner when we encountered the killer whales once again. This time, as stated with great technical precision by Naturalist Lisa Sette, they were “feelin’ frisky!” With their bellies nicely filled with salmon they could turn their attention to social interactions. Whales raised their tails from the water in a behavior called lob-tailing, and then, in an apparent frenzy of mutual excitement, several black and white bodies in quick succession left the water altogether, did a graceful half-pirouette, and returned with a mighty splash. Cameras clicked. Mine caught more splashes than whales, but that’s OK because the images are frozen forever in the pixels of my mind. Another wonderful day in Southeast Alaska.
(Don’t look at the picture yet; I don’t want to give it away too soon!) Icy Strait connects with Cross Sound as the main northern entrance into the protected waterways of Southeast Alaska: Chichagof Island to the south and west, the mainland of Alaska to the north and east. Twice each day strong tidal currents rush in from the Pacific Ocean, then turn and rush out again. The salmon, herring, and other fish that spawn in protected waters and streams enter through this narrow opening. Sounds like a good place for fish-eaters to hang out, eh? With this in mind, the Sea Lion left Juneau and headed for Icy Strait. Early morning found us approaching Point Adolphus on Chichagof Island, an area that is often frequented by humpback whales. They did not disappoint. Having but recently completed their long northward journey from their wintering and breeding waters off of the Hawaiian Islands, they were busily feeding to begin the summer task of restoring body condition and replenishing stores of blubber. Food seemed to be close to the water surface so the dives were shallow and frequent. At least one female was accompanied by her young calf, like many of us, making its first visit to Alaska. We moved towards the Inian Islands, which separate Icy Strait from Cross Soundand and stopped to watch Steller’s sea lions strategically positioned to take a toll from passing salmon. Gulls of several species were waiting to clean the table scraps.
U.S. Coast Guard regulations require that we conduct a lifeboat drill, and so we pulled away into more open water for this activity. And then…(OK, you can look at the picture now) our drill was interrupted by a sighting of killer whales (also known as orca). Life vests were forgotten and we rushed to the bow. The Naturalists huddled: were these the fish-eating “resident” or the marine mammal-eating “transient” type of killer whales? The size of the group, fifteen or more, and subtle characteristics of their markings suggested the former, and this was confirmed when we saw them rushing after salmon and even spotted one with a salmon hanging from its mouth. There were several males with tall, erect dorsal fins; females and immature whales have smaller and more curved (we call it falcate) fins. We were particularly excited to spot a small calf swimming closely by the side of its mother.
After great looks at the killer whales all around the ship we departed for our afternoon spent kayaking and walking in the forest at Fox Creek, on Chichagof Island, from which we returned wet but happy.
Our good fortune continued after dinner when we encountered the killer whales once again. This time, as stated with great technical precision by Naturalist Lisa Sette, they were “feelin’ frisky!” With their bellies nicely filled with salmon they could turn their attention to social interactions. Whales raised their tails from the water in a behavior called lob-tailing, and then, in an apparent frenzy of mutual excitement, several black and white bodies in quick succession left the water altogether, did a graceful half-pirouette, and returned with a mighty splash. Cameras clicked. Mine caught more splashes than whales, but that’s OK because the images are frozen forever in the pixels of my mind. Another wonderful day in Southeast Alaska.
