Kayak adventure in Alaska: Wildlife and glaciers

We’re standing in a field of rocks in a dense fog, surrounded by icebergs stranded at low tide. This is the terminal moraine of Alaska’s Columbia Glacier — the rocky debris that was left when the glacier retreated — and it looks like the moon, all gray and black and icy and bleak. Wearing oversize rubber boots, I steady myself on the small, slick rocks as my traveling companions in brightly colored rain gear start to offload our kayaks from the small water taxi that dropped us here.

The four of us were about to embark on a five-day adventure, paddling 57 miles in nearly constant rain through Columbia Bay and Prince William Sound to the Port of Valdez. The trip, organized by Valdez-based Anadyr Adventures, took us to sheltered bays, short sections of choppy water and the bigger swells of the Valdez Arm, then out rapids formed by the retreating tide through narrow inlets.

We feasted on meals cooked by our guide, Josh McDonald, and we camped one night near the face of a groaning glacier. We saw orcas, sea lions, otters and seals, and we spotted bald eagles, perched high on Sitka spruce and jagged cliffs, looking for prey. The land was vast, wild and remote, and every day, around every corner, ever more extraordinary sights awaited us.

None of us had sea-kayaked before, so our first hours with McDonald were spent discussing water safety, efficient paddling and getting in and out of the boats without capsizing. We also learned how to pack and seal five days of gear into tiny high-tech “dry bags,” and how to attach a spray skirt, a water-repellent cover that keeps the kayak cockpit and the paddler dry.

We started our trip where the tip of the Columbia Glacier was located 30 years ago. Today the glacier is 10 miles from that point, having retreated off the moraine into deep water. Columbia is the second-largest tidewater glacier in Alaska at nearly 400 square miles, McDonald said, but it’s also one of the fastest-moving glaciers in the world, flowing at the rate of 60 to 80 feet per day.

As we launched our kayaks, growlers — small icebergs — tipped and rolled in the bay. McDonald cautioned us to keep a safe distance from them; only 10 percent of their mass is visible above the water. It was 48 degrees and raining, and their blue ice was sculpted smooth by the water into whimsical shapes and sizes — birds, ships. We were like dumbfounded kids, happily splashing around the bergs and through the strong currents with our spastic day-one paddling, trying to comprehend the awesome spectacle around us.

We had the proper gear to stay mostly dry, covered head to toe in rubber and Gore-Tex, though we did get cold feet — literally — the nearer we were to glacial streams. McDonald had his own kayak while we four paired up in bigger kayaks, spending the first day trying to paddle in each other’s rhythm. Tough going, but we managed it eventually. We all happily admitted early on that we loved break time, when we floated in a little pod in the wide open sea and McDonald pulled out gorp, chocolate, banana bread and other snacks from the dry bag at his feet for us to munch on.

On our very first day, we finished a break adjacent to Heather Island, admiring its old-growth forest, which survived because it sits south of Columbia Glacier’s farthest reach. I was still struggling to match my partner’s paddling rhythm and steer with the little foot pedals in my bulky rubber boots when we heard the huge blow and splash of a whale surfacing.