CHAPTER XX.
Glacier Bay.—More Ice Bays.—Majestic Front of the Muir Glacier.—The Bombardment of the Glacier.—One of the Grandest Sights in the World.—A Moving River of Ice.—The Natives.—Abundance of Fish.—Native Cooking.—Wild Berries.—Hooniah Tribe.—Copper Mines.—An Iron Mountain.—Coal Mines.
From Pyramid Harbor we turn southward for a short distance, and then again towards the north, soon reaching the ice-strewn waters of Glacier Bay, an open expanse of ocean fully thirty miles long by from ten to twelve in width. This locality is thus named because of the number of glaciers which descend into it from the southern verge of the frozen region. The still surface of the water reflects the Alpine scenery like burnished silver, only ruffled now and again by the icebergs launched from the majestic front of the Muir glacier, which fall with an explosion like the blasting of rocks in a stone quarry. It is curious to watch these enormous masses of ice rise to the surface after their first deep plunge, see them settle and rise again until their equilibrium becomes fixed, and then slowly float away with their imperial colors displayed, to join the fleet gone before. They seem to exhibit in their vivid colors a radiant joy at release from long imprisonment. It was a gloriously bright day on which we approached the Muir glacier, the sun pouring down its wealth of light and warmth to temper the crisp morning air. A side-wheel steamer could not have made headway among the hundreds of floating icebergs; but the Corona wound in and out among them in safety, piloted by Captain Carroll’s skillful direction, occasionally leaving the color of her painted hull along their sides by chafing them.
The ship was brought within fifty rods of the glacier’s threatening front, which was about three hundred feet in height above the water, standing like a frozen Niagara, and the lead showed it to extend four hundred feet below the surface, making an aggregate of seven hundred feet from top to bottom. What a mighty power was hidden behind the dazzling drapery of its iridescent façade!
Standing upon its surface a short way inland, one could hear from its depths what seemed like shrieks and groans of maddened spirits torturing each other, as the huge mass was crowded more and more compactly between the two abutting mountains of rock through which it found its outlet. The roar of artillery upon a battlefield could hardly be more deafening or incessant than were the thrilling reports caused by the falling of vast masses of ice from the glacier’s front. Nothing could be grander or more impressive than this steady bombardment from the ice mountain in its resistless progress towards the sea. Neither Norway nor Switzerland have any glacial or arctic scenery that can approach this bay in its frigid splendor. No natives are to be seen; not a sound falls upon the ear save the hoarse cannonading of the glacier. The white, ghostly hue of the surroundings are startling; even the daylight assumes a certain weird, bluish tint, heightened by shimmering reflections from the ice-chasms and crevices.
The author, in a varied experience of many parts of the world, recalls but two other occasions which affected him so powerfully as this first visit to Glacier Bay in Alaska, namely: witnessing the sun rise over the vast Himalayan range, the roof-tree of the globe, at Darjeeling, in northern India, and the view of the midnight sun from the North Cape in Norway, as it hung over the Polar Sea. Our power of appreciation is limitless, though that of description is circumscribed. Here both are challenged to their utmost capacity. Words are insufficient; pen and pencil inadequate to convey the grandeur and fascination of the scene.
Lieutenant Frederick Schwatka tells us that a veteran traveler said to him as they stood together on the ship’s deck regarding the scenery in this remarkable bay: “You can take just what you see here and put it down on Switzerland, and it will hide all there is of mountain scenery in Europe. I have been all over the world, but you are now looking at a scene that has not its parallel elsewhere on the globe.” The estimate has been made by experienced persons that five thousand living glaciers, of greater or less dimensions, are now steadily traveling down towards the sea in this vast Territory of Alaska.
Glacier Bay is always full of vagrant icebergs which are of blinding whiteness when under the glare of the midday sun. The variety of colors emitted by the bergs is charming to the eye, the prevailing hues being crystal-white mingled with azure blue, a faint touch of pink appearing here and there, together with dainty gleams of orange-yellow. Where a large smooth surface is presented, the prismatic shimmering is like that of starlight upon the water. The variety in the shape of the bergs is infinite. Some of them exhibit singularly correct architectural lines, some resemble ruins of ancient castles on the Rhine, others, with a little help of the imagination, represent wild animals in various attitudes, or hideous Chinese idols with open mouths and lolling tongues. Sea birds hover over and light in large numbers upon the opalescent masses. Ranging alongside of a tall berg, a fall and tackle was rigged out from the yard-arm of our steamer, while men were sent to cut large blocks of ice from the hill of frozen water. Two weighing nearly a ton each were hoisted on board to keep our larder cool and fill the ship’s ice-chest. The ice was pure as crystal, and fresh as a mountain stream.
“Why don’t you go nearer to the glacier?” asked one of the passengers of the captain.
“Because I think we are quite near enough,” was the quiet reply.