Adventures in Alaska: Katmai National Park

2 August – Katmai

Traveling around Alaska is an interesting experience because of its inaccessibility, and getting to Katmai was definitely memorable. We had an early morning checkin time for our small (9 passenger) plane to King Salmon (Anil sat in the front with the pilot!), then we transferred to the float plane that would take us to Brooks Camp. The plane was bigger than I was expecting – we climbed onto one of the floats to get up into the plane, and we took off on Naknek Lake. Landing on water is actually a really smooth experience, much smoother than land, and it was a quick 20 minute ride over emerald green waters.

Unloading from the float plane

At Brooks Camp, the plane parked right onto the beach on the shores of Naknek, and we walked first to the Visitor Center for a briefing on the camp and on bear safety. Here the rule is different than what we’d heard before – we were to stay 50 yards from any bear. Walk off the trails if a bear was on the trail with us. There’s no food or flavored drinks allowed outside of walled structures. But really, we thought, how close could we possibly get to a bear?? (ahem. The correct answer is: petting distance...)

Instead of heading straight to the Brooks Fall platform 1.2 miles away (which holds 40 people with a 1 hour limit if people are waiting), we decided to have lunch and join the ranger cultural site tour in camp first, and go to the falls after the day trippers left (some people take the morning flight in at 10 and leave in the afternoon around 4 or 5). After eating, we decided to work on our junior ranger books while we waited for the ranger program. Gemma and I went down to the beach by the float planes. We sat on the driftwood in front of the Brooks Camp sign and concentrated on the (really difficult!!) word search. Suddenly Gemma panic-whispered, “KATHY!” and I looked up to see a sow with two cubs strolling in front of us, about 8-10 feet away.

They were totally silent – we couldn’t hear the crunching of rocks even as they passed. The mom was uninterested but kept looking back to make sure her cubs were following, and the cubs looked curiously over at us. Gem and I were frozen in surprise and a little panic – we’d been told to back away when encountering a bear, but we were sitting down and it would have been more disruptive to stand up. So we decided to just sit and savor the magical moment. The bears continued down the beach, completely unconcerned and uninterested. 

Without a doubt, I saw way more bears than mosquitoes while in Alaska!! (but that might have something to do with the changing weather patterns - it was an unseasonably warm, dry year. Good for us, bad for Alaska...)

My pumice experiment!

We kept working on our ranger books, doing the different activities that taught us about the park. The enormous volcanic eruption of Novarupta in 1912 sent a huge cloud of ash and pumice all over the peninsula, and chunks of it were scattered all over the beach - did you know pumice floats?
We then joined in on the ranger-led cultural tour, to learn about the people that once inhabited this area.


Before Brooks Lodge became popular (and so well protected), there weren't as many bears in the area. Before Novarupta erupted in 1912, there were four native groups that settled permanently in Katmai, and several others came seasonally.

The site of a former
semi-subterranean home

Near Brooks Lodge, a 650 year old semi-subterranean home was found and reconstructed. Around camp, dozens of pits can be found, each where one of these homes likely stood.

Mama bear, peering into the high brush for danger

As the day progressed we soon realized the bears were literally everywhere. The boardwalks have multiple gates to cross to keep the bears off – much like the butterfly and bird doors in aviaries – and it’s a bit nervewracking walking down the Falls trail, which we share with the bears, since we’d had first-hand knowledge in how quiet the bears can be. In addition, the vegetation was deceptively high – crossing the water by camp the landscape seemed fairly clear, but a bear coming out of the water and into the grasses almost instantly disappeared in the brush.

As we walked, we continued a conversation so that the bears could hear us – if we had nothing to say, we’d just call out, “Hey bear!” or other nonsense.

His swollen belly will help him survive the upcoming winter

And closer to the falls, there were plenty of signs of bears. There were several well-trampled paths criss-crossing under the boardwalk, and several indentations dug in the dirt – belly holes, so that the bears could comfortably rest and have a place to put their salmon-swollen bellies.

And the view from falls was incredible. 

Over a dozen bears were in sight – the biggest alpha bears were at the top of the falls, heads down and eyes fixed intently on the water waiting for the right moment to snatch jumping salmon from the air. Other big bears were sitting in the pools at the base of the falls, scanning for fish that had failed the jump. 

Three little cubs, waiting for
mom to bring them supper...

and their patience paid off!

Further down the river were sub-adults and younger bears, waiting their turn and looking for cast-offs – it seemed as though some of the bigger bears would catch fish, take one or two bites, and let the rest float away. 
Downriver, the bears were “submarining” – keeping their heads underwater as they looked for the right fish for dinner.

Among the mix were dozens of birds – mostly gulls, with ravens and magpies as well, waiting their turn. They were greedy, eating gigantic hunks of fish and sometimes taking pieces that seemed way too big for them to swallow or too heavy for them to fly away with. That didn’t deter them – one particularly greedy gull kept swallowing a too-big string of fish guts, throwing up most of it and trying to swallow it back again.

That's my shadow on those bears!

The platform is built right up to the river’s edge, and several of the young adult bears used that area to get close to the falls while avoiding the big males. One young bear caught a fish very close to us, bringing its meal directly under the platform under us to eat. We had a clear view of him tearing into the fish, with another next to him reaching in a paw (and getting swatted away) until finally it got hold of about half the salmon to eat.
It was mesmerizing to watch the bears, and we stayed over 2 hours to watch before going back to camp.

After dinner, we went back to take advantage of the late-night Alaskan sun. The area is closed from 10PM until 7AM to allow the bears who are more shy of humans some time to fish, so we went back for another hour right before the platform closed for the night.
It was very clear who were the experts and who were the inexperienced fishermen – after dinner we went back to the platform and saw that the big older male had left. A younger bear in a prime spot tried his luck, but kept batting the fish with his paws instead of catching with his mouth, and he missed way more fish than he caught. But the better fishers could stand on the ledge and snag a salmon after less than a minute of waiting.

Unquestionably, the brown bears of Katmai are one of the most iconic images of the National Parks. We marvel at them, and cheer when they make a spectacular snatch of a fish flying through the air. But let's think about the fish for just a sec...
There are five main types of salmon that spawn in Alaska: the Chinook, Pink, Sockeye, Chum, and Coho. In the clear, freshwater gravel of the rivers and lakes of Alaska, salmon are born as small 'alevin' with their yolk sacs still attached. As they grow and develop, they become 'fry' and start swimming around in search of food. Salmon fry stay in freshwater for up to a year or two, depending on the species. At this time, they grow into the 'smolt' stage and start to get ready for their ocean migration. They live in brackish water where the sea meets fresh water. When they get to a certain size, they become adults and swim into the open ocean to feed.

The spawning vs. marine stages
of Alaska's salmon species

King salmon can live in salt water up to 6 years, while others like the pink return after about 2 years. In any case, when they return to fresh water to spawn, they start physically changing. They develop darker colors like the maroon/red of sockeye and kings, a defined hump in pink and sockeyes, and a large hooked jaw in the males. But all salmon swim back up the rivers where they were born. Some, like chum salmon in the Yukon River, may migrate over 2,000 miles to get to their spawning grounds!

One fish, two fish, red fish, GO FISH!

During their singleminded pursuit to get to there, they don't eat or sleep - they become zombie fish and use all their resources to get past all obstacles - it's not just waterfalls and rapids and bears, but eagles swoop down, water levels fall, and hundreds of human anglers come to try their hand at fishing. Those that are lucky enough to make it pair up; the female deposits her eggs in a bed she digs in the gravel, and the male fertilizes them with his milt. They stay near the eggs to protect them, then die - their bodies becoming nutrients to help feed the environment of their growing young. A single female lays around 4,000 eggs; only one of these will successfully return as an adult to spawn.
Most of the fish we saw hadn't turned their characteristically bright red yet - they do that right before spawning, as their bodies start leaching nutrients and they begin to zombify. The majority  we saw were sockeyes, and they'd already traveled for miles to get to Brooks Falls. 200,000 to 400,000 salmon will successfully leap Brooks Falls each year - but it takes many tries to do it. One ranger estimated that around 6-7% of jumps are successful. In the peak of the season, around 300 sockeyes jump per minute. When we were there, it was probably closer to 75.
It's easy to look across at the panorama from the Brooks Falls platform and 'see' the bears, but it was an interesting exercise to look at it from the point of view of the fish. They struggle mightily to get up the meter-or-so vertical leap of the falls, only to be thwarted by the gaping maw of a thousand-pound brown bear's open jaws.
After a while, I was secretly cheering for the salmon, gratified when one would make it up the falls and swim away towards Lake Brooks, preparing to continue the cycle of life.


3 August – Katmai

Unbeknownst to most visitors, Katmai National Park was actually created because of the landscape and geologic features, not because of the bears. In 1912, a catastrophic eruption of Mt. Novarupta occurred on the eastern side of the park, the fifth largest volcanic eruption in recorded human history. It was devastating to many of the native villages and covered the area in a thick layer of ash and pumice.

Four years later, National Geographic Explorer Robert Griggs came to the area and found steaming fumaroles and a barren, moon-like landscape. The area, now known as the Area of Ten-Thousand Smokes, was the inspiration for Griggs to petition Congress and create Katmai National Monument in 1918. Later, in 1980, the area was expanded to protect the natural habitat and surrounding environment, and Katmai National Park and Preserve was established.

Because our flight out that afternoon wasn’t leaving until 5PM, we decided to take the all day tour into the Ten-Thousand Smokes area. In the morning, Gemma and I went out to the Brooks Falls platform for about an hour, watching the bears in the lower falls area. There weren’t any above the falls fishing, but the sow with three cubs was in the lower area exploring and eating.

From there we walked back to the far side of the camp boardwalk to meet the bus. Around us were 5 or 6 bears either sleeping or playing in the shallows, close to but totally oblivious to the human onlookers.

We took the approx. 1 hour ride into the valley, stopping first at an overlook to see the sweeping views to Naknek Lake and the rich vegetation of spruce and birch trees.

The closer we got to the valley, the smaller and younger the vegetation; at the ranger overlook, there was a view of the valley and the desolate landscape still devoid of green.
Minerals from the eruption color the soil and former steam vents or fumaroles. We didn’t see any smoke (most of the active fumaroles are in the upper valley), but we had an unusually clear and warm day that gave us a great view of the entire valley and chain of mountains surrounding it including Mt. Griggs, Mt. Katmai, and the Buttress Range.

After lunch, we hiked the 1.5 mile trail down to Ukak Falls. From the bottom of the canyon, we had a great view of the layered ash and leftover volcanic debris. It was a great way to see a less-traveled area of the park!

On the bus ride back, the bus startled a brown bear on the road. We slowed and he ran off ahead of us, but every time we turned a corner he was still there on the road. He had several chances to veer off the road but continued running off in front of us; it was a bit sad to see him expending so much energy that he would need to survive the winter. It wasn’t until we reached the Molly River that he finally ran into the brush.

We made it back to Brooks Camp a bit after 3:30, a bit too late for us to go out onto the Falls Platform, so we headed back to camp. There was still bear activity around the boardwalk, and one final bear walking down the beach just as we were boarding our little float plane. He came right by us as an older man was trying to get on the plane, and the pilot had to hurry him along since the bear was coming fairly quickly towards us and passed just a few feet away.

All in all, being in Katmai is such a privilege and it’s nice to see how well the National Park has maintained the separation of humans and animals. The boardwalks and platforms are positioned in a way to stay fairly unobtrusive, and visitors aren’t allowed to stop on the boardwalks so that bears don’t feel impacted in any way if they want to cross. We’re truly made to feel like we’re the visitors and the bears are the residents, and we’re taught to stay as impact-free as possible all while still being able to enjoy the views.

Alaska’s National Parks are truly spectacular, and the vastness and scope are really incomprehensible. It’s difficult and expensive to get here, but I’m eager and excited to put the other parks high on my priority list!

Adventures in Alaska: Glacier Bay National Park

30 July – Anchorage to Glacier Bay

A mostly travel day today – we’re flying out of Anchorage to Juneau, then on to Gustavus, to spend a day in Glacier Bay National Park.

Flying over, we had a clear beautiful day and a great view of the landscape below us. We took several videos, and afterwards realized we were looking at Glacier Bay National Park and the waterways and glaciers that we’d be visiting. Seeing it from up above gave a much clearer picture of how the glacier system worked, and the ‘rivers’ of ice were easily traced back to the enormous ice field that was feeding it.

Because we had a few hour layover in Juneau, we decided to Uber downtown (about a 10 minute ride) for lunch. There’s a harbor where all the gigantic cruise ships dock – the town has about 35,000 residents, and each one of the ships hold around 6-7,000 passengers. When we were there, 6 ships were docked...!

Also at the harbor are many sea plane companies. We had lunch at a dockside restaurant, and every so often the loud whirl of the propellers would drone in or out, stopping conversation. It was a gorgeous day – around 74° and sunny – which was wonderful for us, but terrible for the environment.

The ride to Gustavus, the jumping off point for Glacier Bay, is 12 minutes long. Probably the fastest plane ride I’ve ever been on. But it just goes to show how remote some of these places are – there are no roads to get there, so the only ways to get around are by plane or boat. That’s why there are more bush pilots per capita in Alaska than anywhere else in the world.

Gustavus is about a 15 minute bus ride from Glacier Bay National Park, where we’re staying for one night. We checked in around 6pm, which gave us enough time to go on a short hike before dinner. We took our junior ranger books out on the Forest Trail, and found a lovely little lagoon in the middle of the rainforest where we worked on our books. There’s a thick layer of moss covering everything, and we found tons of different lichens, fungi, mosses, berries, and other vegetation. The trees grow right up to the short beach, so it’s an interesting coastal ecosystem unlike the ones I’ve seen before.

We have to be up early for breakfast tomorrow, so it’s off to bed for us!

31 July – Glacier Bay to Juneau

Woke up early this morning and took a boat ride through Glacier Bay. This National Park is interesting because the entire bay was created only 300 years ago. During the Little Ice Age in the 1700s, the area filled with ice, covering the native Tlingit Village that existed here before it was a bay. As the ice field retreated, it carved out the valleys that were then filled in with seawater, leaving a 1300 ft deep bay with several smaller glaciers still existing and reshaping the environment.

We sailed out of Bartlett Cove and up around the Beardslee Islands up Sitakaday Narrows. In the distance, we spotted several humpback whales, including one that breached. There were so many that we didn’t even stop to observe them. Up by South Marbel Island, we slowed to see the nesting sea birds – including cormorants, pigeon guillemots, kittiwakes, glaucus gulls, and tuffed puffins.

By Tlingit Point, we sailed past Sebree Island – which actually is no longer an island. Because Glacier Bay was formed so recently, the ground underneath is still very active – the retreating glacier is taking pressure off the land, so the entire area is slowly rising as the weight is taken off.

We took a brief detour up Bear Inlet to look for wildlife on the shore – animals come down to the beach to find mussels and other tidal creatures – and saw a mother brown bear and her cub foraging in the brush. Soon after, up along the cliffs, we spotted several mountain goats (some with their kids), high up on the steep slopes. 

Then we sailed up Glacier Bay to Johns Hopkins Glacier, passing Reid Glacier and Lamplugh Glacier along the way. There were several bergy bits and small ice floes in the inlet, and the closer we got to the glacier the more harbor seals we saw hauled out on the ice. 

Harbor seals rely on sea ice to have their pups; with the loss of sea ice, fewer harbor seals are able to find a safe place to rest. In addition, kayakers and tourist  boats sometime startle the seals who then escape off the ice, and if it happens too often they will abandon their pups to get away.

We idled for about 20 minutes in front of Johns Hopkins Glacier, watching it calve. The katabatic winds coming off the top of the glacier sent a constant cold breeze over us, also creating swells in the water. We could hear the rumbling and thundering inside the glacier, and five or six times a hunk of snow and ice would crumble and splash into the sea. The massive expanse of wall made it hard to tell how big each calving event was, but still an enormous amount of ice was falling each time.

We had just enough time after the cruise to get to the Gustavus flight back to Juneau, where we went downtown for a crab feast at Tracy’s Crab Shack. Tasty!

1 August – Anchorage

Awesome day today, hiking Mendenhall Glacier. Guide Daniel picked us up at 7:30 and we headed straight to the trailhead. We each had a backpack with our helmets, harnesses, walking stick, and crampons (and most importantly, snacks!) and went out the 4 miles to the base of the glacier. The trail went first through Sitka Spruce and hemlocks in the Tongass National Forest, then started getting rougher through brush and up rock scrambles.

It was disturbing to see the year markers for where the edge of the glacier used to be – halfway through the hike we reached the 1946 marker, and as we grew closer the signs began popping up closer and closer together. At this rate, the glacier will be inaccessible in only a few short years; even now, they are discussing plans to move the Forest Service visitor center (the most-visited tourist site in Juneau) and potentially closing the trail.

We were lucky enough to get there earlier than most other groups, so we went down to the side of the glacier and found an ice cave. The colors were mesmerizing – the deeper the blue, the more hard-packed and therefore stronger the ice. Down below, the dirt and gravel had turned the ice into a grey-black, so it looked more like rock than ice. Melting ice water continuously drained from the sides, not quite a waterfall but definitely disconcerting on such a warm day – as Daniel explained, just the week before that ice cave hadn’t been there, and in a week or so, it would be totally gone.

Daniel went first to scope out the security and strength of the ice, then set up climbing anchors and ropes while we put on our harnesses, helmets, and crampons. In turn, we each strapped in and scrambled up the icy slope into the cave. There were so many different features and crevices found in the ice –it looked almost as though we were looking underwater. It was also interesting to see the distinct layers and types of ice, the holes and cracks, and to feel the smooth, glassy surface of the clear blue ceiling.

See the people behind me?? Goes to show how BIG the glacier is!

From there, we went around to the front and climbed up to the surface of Mendenhall. We had to carefully stay in a single-file line and follow the path that Daniel was taking, in order to avoid the crevasses (cracks) and moulins (shafts) that might be under the surface. And nearing the gaping maws was exhilarating and a bit frightening – the vibrant blues and whites were mesmerizing, and it was hard to gauge the depths of the pits. More than once I felt the ‘call of the void’!

It was definitely a weird warping of scale being up on the glacier - each of the crevasses that we looked in stretch down 100 feet or more, yet don't look it when you look down. Daniel stood near the edge and dug his crampons in, and when we wanted a peek he'd grab on to our harnesses - just in case.

We also wanted to hike further up the glacier, but after calling on the radio to the group that was up ahead, it was a definite 'no go' - the ice wasn't very stable and the route was difficult to traverse.

I felt really fortunate to get such an up close and personal visit with a glacier. The entire time we were there, a constant stream of melting water could be heard from all around - even with the katabatic winds, it wasn't very cold and many of the formations that we were admiring weren't there the week before. There's a big discussion about how much longer Mendenhall will be accessible to visitors, since it's melting at such a rapid rate that soon we won't be able to reach it. It's melting fast - and given how warm and relatively nice the weather was the entire time we were in Alaska, it's only going to get worse.