Mar 18, 2008, 3:51 GMT
Wrangell/Petersburg, Alaska - Visitors heading to south-east Alaska to see 'the end of the world' have one important decision to make - 'ferry or plane?'
There are no highways to the southern corner of this US state, which consists of a narrow, craggy coastline running between the snowcapped mountains of the Canadian province of British Columbia and the expanses of the Pacific. The 'Inside Passage' waterway runs through this landscape of hundreds of islands, fjords and immense glaciers like a life giving artery.
'That's Devil's Stop,' says Tyler Robinson, pointing from the cockpit of his six-seater as he flies over the LeConte Glacier. The formation of sharp, jagged boulders is home to only a few mountain goats, though the name suggests the devil himself might stop there to take in the natural beauty.
Tyler veers his plane back toward Wrangell. Back in the company's office, he shows pictures of the glacier from 2002.
'The ice comes out a metre further back then,' he says. The giant ice formations are melting, even in Alaska.
There's a 'last frontier' vibe in Wrangell, which goes well with Alaska's frequent claim to be the end of the civilized world. Men in work clothes stand outside wooden houses decorated with moose antlers. Bald eagles perch in the trees, the way cranes do in other parts of the world.
This is no tourist centre like Sitka or Ketchikan, frequent destinations for cruise ships. Wrangell is the real Alaska.
Visitors can head out with a kayak, just like the Indians used to do. The boats glide silently over the water before the group berths at the Petroglyph Beach.
Kate, the tour guide, assures the group that 'We have the highest concentration of petroglyphs in all Alaska.'
The stone carvings are believed to be more than 8,000 years old. Here you can see a fish carved into a boulder, there a face in a stone, artistic relics of an ancient time.
Meanwhile, a boat rushes by. Brenda Schwartz is rushing to get to the Anan Bear Observatory. The bear observatory, which is only accessible by boat, is a regional tourist highlight. From the shore, a secure path leads through the primordial rain forest. Giant ferns, fallen trees and branches draped with moss give the forest a mystical feel.
It doesn't take long to reach the observatory, which lies along a small river. Animal lovers and photographers can wait, undetected, in the wooden building and watch brown bears up close. 'This is unique here,' says Brenda. 'Without a lot of effort, the average tourist can get pretty close to wild animals.'
Unfortunately, there are no bears to be seen this day, because the anticipated salmon don't show up. Alaska lives to the rhythm of the salmon. When the fish return to their spawning grounds in the ponds and rivers, the bears, bird and humans all follow.
The ferry, which only recently started providing services between the islands of southeastern Alaska, leaves Wrangell slowly. Only a few visitors get out at Coffman Cove, the ferry terminal on Prince of Wales Island. Tourism is still in early stages here.
The temperate rain forest covers about 7 million hectares, which means there is forest as far as the eye can see. But there are also clear cut patches visible, like sharp wounds in the mountain cliffs.
Sparsely settled, Prince of Wales Island has good road connections, although few of them are paved. Most of them are gravel paths. Driving a car demands the driver's complete attention, since it's not uncommon to encounter a deer or even a black bear on the road. It's always a good idea to have a camera handy.
Kasaan's Totem Park is on the island's east side. Kassan is a lonely village of the Haida clan. Hidden in the nearby forest are a dozen carved totem poles with mysterious figures. They tell the stories of the Indians from the time before the written word.
The small town of Petersburg on Mitkof is bustling. The biggest fishery harbour on the inside passage, it has the biggest fleet of halibut fishermen in the world. The catch is canned in local factories.
Barry Bracken is just heading out in his 10-metre boat, 'Island Dream.' The marine biologists brings tourists, scientists and photographers to the glacier. 'The LeConte Glacier is pretty active,' explains the 60-year-old. 'It moves about 30 metres a day and calves fairly frequently.'
Slowly, Barry manoeuvres around the knife sharp ice blocks, exercising complete caution. The LeConte Bay is far too dangerous for cruise liners. That means Barry's guests have the frozen world almost entirely to themselves and can enjoy a glass of whiskey atop the glacier.
Sea lions watch the visitors before leaving with their young, gliding from the drifting ice into the water. More and more icebergs drift by, either white as snow or clear and turquoise. They all differ in like art painted by nature. Watching them is almost spiritual.
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