LOVE AFFAIR WITH ALASKA: Part 10
Our first full day at sea began with a way-too-huge breakfast. Because there are so many different food stations in the cafeteria, we browsed, taking a muffin or sweet roll from one, bacon or sausage and an omelet from another, mounds of fresh melons, strawberries, pineapple from another. One station served pancakes and waffles smothered in butter and any type of syrup you desired.
Thick clouds and fog rolled in, and the Captain said, "It was a dark and stormy. . . ." I'm just kidding; he didn't say that. But he did warn us that we wouldn't see much of Hubbard Glacier-- the largest tidewater glacier on the North American continent--because of weather conditions.
But the fog cleared! Straight ahead of us (photo below) loomed Hubbard Glacier standing at 11,000 feet above sea level.
We cheered. Our joyous Captain cheered. I'd heard so much about Hubbard Glacier while researching our trip that not being able to get close would have disappointed me a lot.
Navigating these icy waters is dangerous. Icebergs become bottom-heavy and can tip over at any time. And where icebergs are concerned, what you see is NOT what you get. Only 10% of an iceberg is above water. Usually large ships like ours get no closer than three-quarters of a mile to Hubbard Glacier.
Our Captain took us to within one-quarter mile of the glacier, and because conditions were perfect, we stayed two hours instead of the usual 30 minutes. The glaciers creaked and groaned.
When air gets in the ice, it turns blue (top of above photo) and is ready to calve (break off). Many sections calved while we watched. The chunks sounded like vibrating cannons when they crashed into the water.
About an hour after we arrived a smaller ship joined us, but didn't venture as close to the glacier as our ship.
I marveled at the brilliant blues in this scene as we left Hubbard Glacier and steamed toward Juneau. What a perfect day.
Thick clouds and fog rolled in, and the Captain said, "It was a dark and stormy. . . ." I'm just kidding; he didn't say that. But he did warn us that we wouldn't see much of Hubbard Glacier-- the largest tidewater glacier on the North American continent--because of weather conditions.
But the fog cleared! Straight ahead of us (photo below) loomed Hubbard Glacier standing at 11,000 feet above sea level.
We cheered. Our joyous Captain cheered. I'd heard so much about Hubbard Glacier while researching our trip that not being able to get close would have disappointed me a lot.
Navigating these icy waters is dangerous. Icebergs become bottom-heavy and can tip over at any time. And where icebergs are concerned, what you see is NOT what you get. Only 10% of an iceberg is above water. Usually large ships like ours get no closer than three-quarters of a mile to Hubbard Glacier.
Our Captain took us to within one-quarter mile of the glacier, and because conditions were perfect, we stayed two hours instead of the usual 30 minutes. The glaciers creaked and groaned.
When air gets in the ice, it turns blue (top of above photo) and is ready to calve (break off). Many sections calved while we watched. The chunks sounded like vibrating cannons when they crashed into the water.
About an hour after we arrived a smaller ship joined us, but didn't venture as close to the glacier as our ship.
I marveled at the brilliant blues in this scene as we left Hubbard Glacier and steamed toward Juneau. What a perfect day.
Labels: Alaska, calving, cruise ship, Hubbard Glacier
posted by Sally Roseveare | 1:57 PM
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