We stand aboard the ship, just soaking in the moment. Spinning around in a 360, we can’t believe our eyes. How did we end up here in the middle of so much untouched beauty?

June 7–10, 2025

I have never been to the panhandle of Alaska before. My pre-trip research tells me to expect typical Alaskan terrain: forests, mountains, rocky coastlines, and massive glaciers with bears and whales, and of course summer rainstorms. But little do I know what I am in for when we disembark for Glacier Bay National Park early Saturday morning. The nearly 12-hour journey through Seattle and Juneau finally ends at a tiny one-gate outdoor airport in Gustavus. The late afternoon sky is overcast, and clouds are low. Visibility flying into Gustavus was minimal at best. After boarding the Glacier Bay Lodge shuttle bus, we drive 10 short miles to Bartlett Cove.

Gathering our bearings (and picking up our camping permit) we locate the campground and hike the half mile from the lodge to the campsite, establishing a home base for the next three nights. The damp rainy air enrichens the foliage around us as we wheel our baggage under a rainforest canopy. Moss covers the ground like snow. Everything is far greener and lusher than I had ever expected. This is Glacier Bay, not the Everglades—the first of many surprises to come.

That night we stroll around the visitor center grounds in the misty weather familiarizing ourselves with the park. As the summer solstice draws close, each night barely gets darker than twilight, but we are so bushed from traveling we hit our sleeping bags early. The soft patter of rain on the tent lulls us to sleep.

The next morning, we wake to more clouds and rain. With nothing on the agenda, we oversleep hoping the clouds burn off in the morning sun, but they never do. So we rise, make a quick oatmeal breakfast on the beach, and pack up for a day of hiking the local trails. Forest Trail is our first hope of finding wildlife. The small 1 mile loop skirts past several overgrown ponds. But in the late morning, there is no sign of life save for a single goldeneye duck circling the water.

Perhaps we need a longer remote trail, like Bartlett River Trail. We take off on this 4-mile roundtrip path through the forest along the Bartlett River. We hear rumors of abundant porcupine, bears, moose, but again, no wildlife. We did however, find a gorgeous (albeit muddy) singletrack path down by the bank opening up to expansive views of the Barlett River—a small success, no doubt. The day ends with dinner on the campground beach and an early bedtime.

When we wake, the first question on our minds is weather. Today is our Day Boat Tour back into the heart of the bay. We didn’t hear rain last night, which seems to be a good sign. Unfortunately, clouds still hang in the sky, but they appear less heavy than yesterday. Today is forecasted to be our sunniest day, so we board the tour boat cautiously optimistic. As we pull away from the dock and make our way out of Bartlett Cove, the bay takes on a transformation. Clouds begin to break, the sun pokes through, and blue sky makes an appearance for the first time this trip.

The rest of the trip just keeps getting better. We first stop by South Marble Island, a nesting place for gulls, puffins, cormorants, and stellar sea lions. The small rock is abuzz with activity. We even spot two bald eagles perched on beach driftwood. Continuing up the bay, the captain presses on for another hour or so stopping once or twice to point out brown bears and mountain goats on the coastline.

Soon ice chunks dot the water. First, a couple here and there. Then more. And more. And that’s when we see it: Margerie Glacier, an absolute wall of ice slipping into the sea. The approach makes it look small at first, but as we draw near, the mouth of the glacier stretches wider and wider measuring over half a mile long. The captain wheels us around and parks the boat dead center of the glacier. Clouds shroud the 15,300-foot Mount Fairweather behind the glacier creating a moody atmosphere. The glacier creaks and heaves under the immense pressure of built up ice over millennia adding to the mystique of the moment. In spontaneous bursts, chunks of ice periodically calve into the ocean. Harbor seals stir among the icebergs. A mother and pup rest prominently on a nearby chunk, so close we felt we could touch it.

After 30 minutes, the captain rolls us out of Tarr Inlet where we’ve been idling and proceeds over to Johns Hopkins Inlet for a glimpse of the Johns Hopkins Glacier. And what transpires next will forever be engraved in my mind as one of the national parks’ most impressive scenes. Rounding a corner of the inlet, a protruding wall of rock reveals a massive glacier in the distance at the base of 12,000-foot Mount Salisbury. The clouds part giving way to a blue sky backdrop, highlighting the glacier’s path from the mountain to the sea, like an arctic highway of ice. The lower foothills seem to bow to the majesty of the mountain and its glacier. With mirror-like quality, the still waters of the bay reflect the scene’s glory through chunks of floating ice. We stand aboard the ship, just soaking in the moment. Spinning around in a 360, we can’t believe our eyes. How did we end up here in the middle of so much untouched beauty? Everywhere we look pulsates with natural beauty. The electric blue hue of the water, the marbled texture of the glacier, the ragged skyline of unknown snowcapped peaks, the ebony rocks of cliffs all fill us with insufficient awe. I’m stunned to silence. This is Glacier Bay, not Denali.

The ride back of course is a sequence of less and less stunning views, but with that scene emblazoned in my mind, I don’t care. I just feel blessed to witness such a scene of extraordinary beauty. As we dock back in Bartlett Cove sometime mid-afternoon, we make our way back to camp to drop gear and regroup. Nearing our tent, we hear a bear was present in the campground earlier in the day. A bit bummed and a bit relieved to miss it, we head to the beach to relax. To our surprise, just 100 yards down coast of us, we spot the bear. Apparently, it left the camp and moseyed down to the beach. This is our first grizzly bear encounter in the wild, apart from any wildlife tour, so naturally the scenario captivates us. I grab my telephoto lens and settle in to watch the bear. Minding its own business, snacking on some sweet grass, the bear is unaffected by our presence—a good sign for sure. For the next hour and a half, we patiently watch the bear gorge on grass, occasionally looking up in our direction as if to perceive our motives. Just then, blasts of air echo across the cove. Just offshore, a humpback whale spouts into the air. The existential moment is not lost on us. Once again, we find ourselves in a dream state. Having just disembarked a wildlife cruise replete with puffins, seals, otters, bears and the likes, we come ashore to photograph a lazy brown bear as whales circle the waters in a chorus of blows just outside our campground. You can’t make this stuff up! Where are we? This is Glacier Bay after all, not Yellowstone.

It’s 9:30 p.m. and golden hour sets in. We eventually leave the bear, make dinner, and head to the communal campfire ring on the beach. A fire once lit smolders from previous users, so we rekindle the flames and settle in next to the heat. It’s now 10:30 p.m. and blue hour bathes the entire cove in twilight, punctuated only by our red hot fire and its spew of sparks. I sit in this quintessential national park experience marveling at our time in Glacier Bay. What started out as a discouraging dreary, lifeless day yesterday, blossomed into a gorgeous Alaskan summer today—sunny skies, active wildlife, unparalleled views. This is supposed to be Glacier Bay, not Yosemite. I couldn’t ask for more.

Back at our tent, we fall asleep preparing for our last day in the park. Morning is once again sunny. For the first time we wake to beautiful alpenglow on the Fairweather Range to the west. It’s funny how these mountains have been there the whole time, hidden only by weather. Grateful to see them before we leave the park, we head to the dock for one last activity—sea kayaking along the cove. After a lengthy orientation to kayaking, we board our tandem vessel and launch into the water. The calm waves rock us gently as we chase distant otters and birds on the water. Seaside mountains plunge into the ocean on the horizon. Give me a breaching whale beneath those mountains and my life would be complete.

After our half-day rental expires, we return the kayak and pack up camp, cramming our gear into our tiny airport luggage bags. Boarding the shuttle bus we are dropped off at the Gustavus Airport and fly to Juneau, Anchorage, and back home. The trip from Juneau to Anchorage is among the most beautiful flights I have ever experienced, seeming to cap off our Alaska adventure with a bang. This is Glacier Bay National Park after all.