The Beauty of Prince William Sound, Alaska

 

The Beauty of Prince William Sound, Alaska

At four Monday morning, I pulled my anchor, ready to explore more of the district. The narrow passage limited my view to the near shores. The shore of the island at the anchorage stood tall, with steep rock that plunged deep into the water and maintained its rapid descent. The mainland shore of mountains dropped and changed to low green meadows that slopped to a gravel shoreline with patches of evergreen and alder trees between. Blueberry, and salmonberry bushes above the gravel beach. Trees outlined a ridgeline to the north, and beyond the ridge-tops, a backdrop of blue and white mountains.

A couple more turns, and the passage intercepted Port Wells, about one-third of the way up the fjord. When the skiff rounded the last corner of the passage, the view exploded with breathtaking scenery. Glistening water stretched for miles across Port Wells. I could see beyond the far shore, up Barry Arm, full of glaciers that shimmered in the sun, and miles into the Chugach Mountain Range.

When the Harriman expedition traveled up Barry Arm, John Muir’s description was, "The sail up this majestic fjord in the evening sunshine, picturesquely varied glaciers coming successively into view, sweeping from high snowy foundations and discharging their thundering wave-raising icebergs, was, I think, the most exciting experience of the whole trip.”

The vista to the south reached beyond Port Wells to distant tree-covered islands. The fjord to the north narrowed with endless rugged mountains smothered in glaciers. The mountains glistened from the sun’s reflection on the glaciers and last winter’s melting snow. A distant roar farther up College Fjord occasionally shattered the silence. Sometimes the noise sounded like thunder; at other times, like a shotgun blast. The noise turned out to be glaciers calving chunks of ice that broke off the face of the frozen river and fell into the fjord. The volume of the noise directly related to the size of the chunk of ice that broke off from the glacier.

The icebergs shimmered as they drifted down the fjord in various hues of aquamarine and white. Most noticeable was how much noise the ice made when it splashed and crackled while it drifted with the current. The icebergs bobbed and rolled as they melted. With ice all around me, the air held a crisp chill in spite of the brilliant summer sunshine.

High in the fjord, the water was calmer compared to the more open waters at the south end. The tranquil water combined with the scenery held me with magnetic force, content to catch the sockeye that made their way past the nets cast twenty miles in front of mine.

When John Muir traveled up College Fjord, he wrote, "The scene was wild and rugged in the extreme." A century later, that description is still accurate.

Kathy Halgren, Seattle resident, is in the finishing stages with a publisher of preparing her book about being a career fisherman in Alaska for several years.

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