WATERFALLS AND GLACIERS

The currents were running fast. The bow was pointing 45 degrees northwest of my actual course, which was through a narrow pass between the shore and a nav buoy marking an underwater ridge, the moraine of Baird Glacier. The glacier had retreated a long way since forming that moraine, several miles up the bay to where it ends a few yards from the tide line. Yet it still makes itself felt. As soon as our cutter, raced past the buoy, the color of the water changed. The division was as stark as the Gulf Stream and the Gulf of Maine: a sharp line between the dark blue of the outside channel and the milky green of the bay’s glacial meltwater.

We’d just entered Thomas Bay in Southeast Alaska, a large indent on the mainland coast 5 miles north of Petersburg. My husband, Seth, and I had come to see the glacier and to hike the trails into the mountains. We both love to sail and love to hike, so Alaska is a perfect cruising destination, with trails climbing into empty alpine territory right from the rocky beaches.

The glacier was first on our list though. The currents weakened inside the bay, so lost speed until she was ghosting past steeper and steeper mountains. Snow became visible on the highest peaks. The air temperature dropped perceptibly. We donned jackets and then hats and mittens. We spotted a small growler—the first bit of ice—off the port bow. Soon the glacier hove into view, a tiny strip of grass separating it