An Alaskan jökulhlaups way out west of Anchorage

When your vacation plans start to dissolve, a little flexibility can go a long way, and may even provide you with the opportunity to see natural wonders rarely witnessed by the majority of travellers. This is the story of how we got to see magnificent wetlands and wildlife as well as the results of a jökulhlaups, and why you might want to consider spending an extra day or more exploring to the west of Anchorage.

We arrived in Anchorage from Gustavus (via Juneau) on our penultimate flight with Alaska Airlines on 3rd August.

After a great week down in south east Alaska, where we’d been extremely lucky with the excellent weather, the skies now decided that ‘blue’ and ‘calm’ were over.

Having reserved a couple of slots with Ellison Air at the end of April, we had hoped to flight-see to the north of Anchorage around Denali (a.k.a. Mt. McKinley, as it was then still officially titled) and Prince William Sound to the south east in whatever order the conditions best suited on the 4th and 5th.  As it turned out we wouldn’t get to see either destination on this vacation.

We’d booked accommodation at the Holiday Inn Express because it had a free shuttle from the airport, we could use IHG points to pay for our room, and, most importantly, it was really close to Lake Hood, the “largest and busiest seaplane base in the world”.

Our scheduled flight departures were both for 08:00 because “the mornings usually have the smoothest air and that is a big deal on a long over land trip like McKinley”, but, when we made the 0.2 mi./3 min. walk from the hotel to Ellison Air’s office on Wisconsin Street at the eastern end of Lake Hood (formerly Lake Spennard until a canal was dug to connect the two water bodies), the weather forecast for the day dictated that flights to Denali and Prince William Sound were untenable.

There was still a window of opportunity to take off to the west of Anchorage, and so, with no knowledge of what lay along the top of Cook Inlet, we agreed to the offer to take us out on a more ‘local’ flight and a landing on Beluga Lake beneath the Triumvirate Glacier. Although we didn’t know it at the time, this flight would take us over the rich wetlands and coastal waters of Matanuska-Susitna (Mat-Su) Borough, and, intermittently, into Kenai Peninsula County as we flew up the Beluga River.

The area of our trip from Anchorage to Beluga Lake [Base terrain map data © 2016 Google].
The area of our trip from Anchorage to Beluga Lake [Base terrain map data © 2016 Google].
Taking off smoothly in Ellison Air’s distinctive Cessna U206G Stationair we quickly travelled across Cook Inlet to Mat-Su.

Leaving Anchorage and its Chugach Mountains backdrop, heading across Cook Inlet.
Leaving Anchorage and its Chugach Mountains backdrop, heading across Cook Inlet.

After briefly following a course parallel to the power transmission lines that stretch from the Beluga River Power Plant to supply Anchorage with nearly half of its electricity, we turned towards the lower reaches of the Susitna Flats, spotting our first bull Moose (Alces alces) of the day by the forested banks of one if the myriad of creeks and small rivers flowing down to the sea.

Looking inland from the tidal edge of the Susitna Flats while heading west.
Looking inland from the tidal edge of the Susitna Flats while heading west.
Mount Susitna (known as “The Sleeping Lady”) from the Susitna Flats near the Little Susitna River, where a few rays of sunshine tried to pierce the cloud cover.
Mount Susitna (known as “The Sleeping Lady”) from the Susitna Flats near the Little Susitna River, where a few rays of sunshine tried to pierce the cloud cover.

The Susitna Flats State Game Refuge is a 300,800 acre (121,729 ha) refuge created 1976:

“Birds

Perhaps the most spectacular feature of the Susitna Flats State Game Refuge – and certainly the prime reason for its refuge status – is the spring and fall concentration of migrating waterfowl and shorebirds. Usually by mid-April, mallards, pintails, and Canada geese are present in large numbers. Peak densities are reached in early May when as many as 100,000 waterfowl are using the refuge to feed, rest, and conduct their final courtship prior to nesting. The refuge also hosts several thousand lesser sandhill cranes and upwards of 8,000 swans. Northern phalaropes, dowitchers, godwits, whimbrels, snipe, yellowlegs, sandpipers, plovers, and dunlin are among the most abundant of shorebirds. Most of the ducks, geese, and shorebirds move north or west to nest in other areas of the state. About 10,000 ducks -; mostly mallards, pintails, and green-winged teal, remain to nest in the coastal fringe of marsh ponds and sedge meadows found in the refuge. Recently, Tule geese, a subspecies of the greater white-fronted goose, have been discovered to nest and stage on Susitna Flats. In the fall, migrant waterfowl and shorebirds once again arrive in growing numbers to rest and feed on sedge meadows, marshes, and intertidal mud flats.

Mammals

Back from the coast are brushy thickets where moose calve each spring. In the winter, moose from surrounding uplands return to the refuge to find food and relief from deep snow. Both brown and black bears use the refuge, feeding particularly on early spring vegetation near salt marshes and sedge meadows. Beaver, mink, otter, muskrat, coyote, and wolf can also be found. Trapping is a regular winter activity on the refuge.

[…]

Fish

The Susitna River and its tributaries support the second largest salmon-producing system within Cook Inlet. In the summer, set net fishing sites dot the shoreline of the refuge.”

[Source: ADF&G]

The area covered by the Susitna Flats State Game Refuge. [Source: ADG&F]
The area covered by the Susitna Flats State Game Refuge.
[Source: ADG&F]
Looking upstream from the outflow of the mighty Susitna River as we continued flying west.
Looking upstream from the outflow of the mighty Susitna River as we continued flying west.
At the mouth of the Susitna River as it flows into Cook Inlet.
At the mouth of the Susitna River as it flows into Cook Inlet.

Along the shoreline mud bars we started to see increasing numbers of lounging seals, and were also lucky enough to spot the distinct white shapes of Beluga Whales (Delphinapterus leucas) in the grey waters close to shore, which is not a privilege we’d have had around Denali.  The resident population of Belugas in Cook Inlet means this is one area where viewing is common, particularly in summer and fall when they congregate between the Little Susitna and Susitna Rivers, before they move to deeper waters slightly further south around Kachemak and the Barren Islands during the winter.

One of the seal banks we saw along the coast of Cook Inlet at Susitna Flats.
One of the seal banks we saw along the coast of Cook Inlet at Susitna Flats.

Aside from all the wildlife, this area is not always devoid of inhabitants.  At the edge of the lake near the center of the image below, a small cabin can just be seen, and, as marked on the earlier map, it’s not the only one in the refuge.  This area is prolifically fished and hunted:

“An impressive 40,000 user-days of sport fishing effort are expended on the Little Susitna River each year, reached over land on a rough 4-wheel drive trail. Some hardy fishermen head for the Little Susitna by boat from the mouth of Ship Creek.

The Theodore and Lewis rivers are popular fly-in fishing streams for king salmon from late May through June. Combined, these rivers annually provide approximately 7,000 user-days fishing effort and a harvest of 1,000 king salmon.”

[Source: ADF&G].

“Each year approximately 10 percent of the waterfowl harvest in the state occurs on Susitna Flats, with about 15,000 ducks and over 500 geese taken.”

[Source: ADF&G].

The Susitna Flats SGR continues west of the Susitna River. The sun once again briefly appeared to illuminate the shrouded top of Mt. Susitna.
The Susitna Flats SGR continues west of the Susitna River. The sun once again briefly appeared to illuminate the shrouded top of Mt. Susitna.

After a few miles more of the spectacular coastal wetlands we turned inland to the northwest and re-crossed the transmission power lines as we headed to the Beluga River and Lake for our scheduled landing.

The landscape beneath us remained consistently diverse and just as riveting.

Fixed-wing aircraft are ideal for flightseeing across the refuge as they are permitted to travel as low as 500 ft (152m) above ground level during protected wildlife breeding seasons (it’s 1500 ft (457m) for helicopters) which provides some great views of the landscape.
Fixed-wing aircraft are ideal for flightseeing across the refuge as they are permitted to travel as low as 500 ft (152m) above ground level during protected wildlife breeding seasons (it’s 1500 ft (457m) for helicopters) which provides some great views of the landscape.

In the open spaces of creek gravel bars we spotted more moose and a bear using the natural highways, but we soon reached our destination

Beluga Lake lies 56 mi. (90km) WNW of Anchorage.  It is principally formed by the meltwaters of the Triumvirate Glacier which primarily flow along the northern and southern flanks of a 4.5 mi. (km) bar of land which separates the lake and the glacier’s frontal moraine at the west of the lake.  Beluga Lake is approximately 6 mi. (10km) long from east to west, and about 3 mi. (5km) wide.  The Beluga River starts at the eastern end of the lake with additional in-flow from the tributary Chichantna River (fed in turn by the Capps Glacier) in the south-eastern corner of Beluga Lake.  Coal Creek flows into Beluga Lake from the north just before the start of the river.  The relatively isolated location is reflected in the USGS topographical map which dates back to 1958, but it still provides a reasonably accurate impression as can be seen on the CalTopo website.

In a video posted the day before our flight, a landing on Beluga Lake by a 1958 De Havilland Canada Beaver DHC-2 MK.1 floatplane from Rust’s Flying Services shows what the area around the Triumvirate Glacier and a Beluga Lake landing look like in good weather.

As we reached Beluga Lake it became apparent that something strange had recently happened to the landscape below us.

Heading west, looking south. Beluga Lake with the start of the Beluga Rover to the left, with the Chichantna River flowing left to right in the background.]
Heading west, looking south. Beluga Lake with the start of the Beluga Rover to the left, with the Chichantna River flowing left to right in the background.
The flooded shoreline where Coal Creek enters Beluga Lake.]
The flooded shoreline where Coal Creek enters Beluga Lake.
The trees at the periphery of the lake had been inundated by a rapid expansion of the water level and, closer to the, land in front of the Glacier, there were boulders of blue ice littering the banks of the principal northern riverine channel and braided streams flowing into the lake.
The trees at the periphery of the lake had been inundated by a rapid expansion of the water level and, closer to the land in front of the Glacier, there were boulders of blue ice littering the banks of the principal northern riverine channel and braided streams flowing into the lake.
The land below the moraine in front of the Triumvirate Glacier.
The land below the moraine in front of the Triumvirate Glacier.
Following the course of the lateral channel flowing from the edge of the northern edge of the Triumvirate Glacier.
Following the course of the lateral channel flowing from the edge of the northern edge of the Triumvirate Glacier. Note the blue ice on the over-spill gravels.
The water clearly wasn’t flowing in any substantive measure from the frontal tongues of the glacier (although blue ice was once again deposited at the foot of the moraine)…
The water clearly wasn’t flowing in any substantive measure from the frontal tongues of the glacier (although blue ice was once again deposited at the foot of the moraine)…
…and neither was it flowing over the top of the glacier’s northern-most finger of ice.
…and neither was it flowing over the top of the glacier’s northern-most finger of ice.
Flying up above the Triumvirate Glacier the weather was closing in, but our pilot, John Ellison, skilfully managed to get us through the turbulence between the clouds flowing down from the Tordrillo Mountains and the ice below to reveal the source of the flood…
Flying up above the Triumvirate Glacier the weather was closing in, but our pilot, John Ellison, skilfully managed to get us through the turbulence between the clouds flowing down from the Tordrillo Mountains and the ice below to reveal the source of the flood…
Under the impinging cloud layer, Strandline Lake was no longer impounded by the Triumvirate Glacier. Note the stranded glacial ice high on the sides of the lake’s edges. This view of its remaining waters, and the previous images of its continued outflow, show that it wasn’t yet finished draining.
Under the impinging cloud layer, Strandline Lake was no longer impounded by the Triumvirate Glacier. Note the stranded glacial ice high on the sides of the lake’s edges. This view of its remaining waters, and the previous images of its continued outflow, show that it wasn’t yet finished draining.

We’d already witnessed the beautiful colour of consolidated glacial ice and the impressive calving of tidewater glaciers in SE Alaska, but the impact of this sight and recognition of the scale of this natural catastrophe was simply awe inspiring.

According to the U.S. Board on Geographic Names the Triumvirate Glacier was so named by S. R. Capps and R. H. Sargent of the U.S. Geological Survey “because this glacier is composed of the joining of three large glaciers.”  It flows for over 20 miles in a south easterly direction down towards Beluga Lake, and, near the glacier terminus, a north facing lobe Strandline Lake, forms an ice-dam to the outflow of Strandline Lake in its high-sided narrow valley.

As Strandline Lake backs up and rises against the glacier lobe, calving fills the lake with icebergs that can be 120m in height. Eventually the hydrostatic pressure is sufficient to float the lobe and the water variously forces its way over the ice, down plunge pools, and through old subterranean channels in the bedrock at the northern edge of the ice, whilst also carving its way along new routes and the underside of the glacier.

Point of release.
Point of release.

This type of cataclysmic outflow is known by the Icelandic term ‘jökulhlaups’, which in English means a glacial lake outburst flood (GLOF). We’d never heard of it, let alone witnessed the results of such a catastrophic environmental event.

In the earlier video, Strandline Lake is featured from 4’ 14” to 4’ 57”.  At the point when it was filmed the lake was full and the Glacier was displaying characteristic pre-jökulhlaups glacier surface water pools.  Shortly before our arrival this condition had dramatically changed, but, if we hadn’t taken the chance to head out in a previously unconsidered direction, we’d probably still know nothing of such events.

The jökulhlaups wrecking ground of the Triumvirate Glacier at the southern end of Strandline Lake
The jökulhlaups wrecking ground of the Triumvirate Glacier at the southern end of Strandline Lake.

The month after our visit this video was posted showing a view of the devastation from a R44 helicopter:

A more detailed description of how Strandline Lake is repeatedly blocked and the resulting release and refill mechanisms can be found in the very easily read A History of Jökulhlaups from Strandline Lake, Alaska, USA by Matthew Sturm and Carl S. Benson (Journal of Glaciology, Vol.31, No. 109, 1985). Given the publication date, it naturally enough focuses on the September 1982 jökulhlaups when it was calculated that over 95% of Strandline Lake had drained out, releasing about 185 billion gallons (700 million m3) of water, although it is estimated from earlier strandlines that previous releases could have been up to 65% greater by volume.

Other online literature is, unsurprisingly, sparse, but while Sturm and Bensons’ historical (1940 to 1982 (and 1984)) investigations show a release frequency of every 1-5 years, anecdotal and video evidence suggest that an annual release is possibly now more the norm.

In 2013 National Geographic Channel TV viewers might have watched episode 3 of the first series of “Ultimate Survivor Alaska” which was titled “Into the Void” [].  It was filmed in the Fall of 2012, and shows that Strandline Lake (see 24’25” to 34’38”) had been recently drained (and why you might not want to be down there crossing it on foot).

The year after our visit Strandline Lake was once again captured on video in a pre-jökulhlaups condition during the flight in a Cessna 180H floatplane into Beluga Lake posted in July 2014:

In a video uploaded in early August 2014, another R44 helicopter flight recorded post-jökulhlaups conditions:

Given the weight of video evidence in this post, travelling to Beluga Lake is clearly not restricted to grey days.  Nor is it restricted to summer months and floatplanes, but you might want to consider the following statistics in planning whether your fly-in uses floats, skis or wheels to get down at Beluga Lake:

Year Freeze Start Freeze Final Breakup Start Breakup Final
2002 26/10/01 01/11/01 30/05/02 30/05/02
2003 Latest – 13/12/02 Latest – 19/12/02 Earliest – 13/05/03 Earliest – 18/05/03
2004 09/11/03 19/11/03 17/05/04 04/06/04
2005 03/11/04 20/11/04 23/05/05 23/05/05
2006 03/11/05 06/11/05 23/05/06 30/05/06
2007 31/10/06 09/11/06 21/05/07 Latest – 08/06/07
2008 08/12/07 08/12/07 Latest – 01/06/08 01/06/08
2009 Earliest – 24/10/08 Earliest – 24/10/08 18/05/09 30/05/09
2010 08/11/09 10/11/09 29/05/10 29/05/10
2011 27/10/10 22/11/10 20/05/11 29/05/11
2012 05/11/11 05/11/11 21/05/12 02/06/12
2014 07/11/13 18/11/13 14/05/14 20/05/14

Freeze Start = first time lake at or greater than 10%. Freeze Final = first time lake greater than 90%.
Breakup Start = last time lake greater than 90%. Breakup Final = last time lake at or greater than 10%.

[Data from the NPS]

In addition to a check on the condition of Strandline Lake before landing on Beluga Lake, it’s probably also worth bearing in mind that these jökulhlaups don’t only occur in the fall.  Click here for a link to images of the December 1980 Beluga River Outburst Flood, noting how far the destructive force of the water will travel.

A final close up of the shattered edge of the glacial lobe.
A final close up of the shattered edge of the glacial lobe.
With buffeting winds propelling the cloud down the glacier it was time to get out.
With buffeting winds propelling the cloud down the glacier it was time to get out.

The journey back was a more direct overland route and took under 40 minutes. Once again, the landscape was a mosaic of waterways and wetlands, with the trees also occasionally revealing cabins and landing strips as we re-crossed the Susitna River, before more managed pastures and small herds of cattle came into view.

Mat-Su land of lakes

Mat-Su wetlands

Crossing the line of the Lewis River as it flows SW towards the coast.
Crossing the line of the Lewis River as it flows SW towards the coast.
Past the Lewis River and looking SW, on the way down to the Susitna River and flats travelling to the SE.
Past the Lewis River and looking SW, on the way down to the Susitna River and flats travelling to the SE.
The village of Alexander (population 40) curves around the right bank of Alexander Creek before it flows into the Susitna River. There was a native settlement recorded here in 1898.
The village of Alexander (population 40) curves around the right bank of Alexander Creek before it flows into the Susitna River. There was a native settlement recorded here in 1898.
Over the Susitna on the way back to Anchorage.
Over the Susitna on the way back to Anchorage.

Our round trip only took about 1.5 hours, but, when we landed safely back at Lake Hood, we knew that we had made the right decision to fly west that day, and that we’d been spectacularly rewarded with a once in a lifetime experience.

 

Aside from Ellison Air and Rust’s Flying Service (who don’t list this trip as a regular departure, so prices are on application) there are a number of other Anchorage based operations who offer flightseeing over this fantastic area, including

  • Sound Aviation charge $200 p/p for an approximately 1.5 hr “Volcano/Glaciers” flightseeing experience  They operate from Merrill Field airport using asix passenger retractable wheeled landing gear Piper Lance.
  • Trail Ridge Air offer a 60 min. “Discover Alaska” flight for $150 p/p  from Lake Hood in a Dehavilland DHC-3 Beaver floatplane.

When Steller Air saved the day – Coastal Brown Bear viewing in the Lake Clark National Park, Alaska

It was the 10th August 2013, and we’d almost reached the end of the road when we arrived in the ‘Halibut fishing capital of the world’.  If, like us, you’re not into sea fishing, that might not sound like the most attractive destination advertisement, but I don’t mean it to sound like we’d had enough of the 49th state when we drove into Homer, Alaska. We were literally just about to run out of highway (and on the way there had passed by “North America’s most westerly highway point” at Anchor Point).

In good weather you should be able to see all the way across Cook Inlet to Mt Iliamna from here. This was the view on our departure day…
In good weather you should be able to see all the way across Cook Inlet to Mt Iliamna from here. This was the view on our departure day…
…but on our arrival day, and a bit further down the road towards Homer, the volcano was revealed through the clouds and haze of the distance.
…but on our arrival day, and a bit further down the road towards Homer, the volcano was revealed through the clouds and haze of the distance.

After a fantastic couple of preceding weeks in Alaska, we were exactly where we wanted to be as we drove down the Sterling Highway (Alaska Route 1, or AK1) and onto Homer Spit (which, with the longest section of road jutting out into an ocean in the world, gives you an extra 10 minutes of driving if you’re so inclined).

We were a mere 4,612 miles (7,422 km) from home as the intercontinental crow flies (and we were clearly tourists in that we were measuring distances in miles first rather than by hours), but we’d travelled considerably further by air and land to get to our final-stay destination of choice in Homer during a three week vacation tour of Alaska in late July to mid-August.

Inspired by our first experience of viewing Brown Bears at Knight Inlet in British Columbia three years earlier, we’d decided to try and end our vacation with a similar highlight, and then have a few days of chilling out with no other trips booked or schedules to meet until it was time to head home.

Back at the start of the previous January we’d booked 3 seats (and by ‘booked’ I mean we’d paid the total amount of $1,950.00* in advance, not a reservation fee with the balance due at a later date or on arrival) with K-Bay Air to fly our family of three out to the Katmai National Park for a bear viewing day trip on the day after our arrival in Homer.  As requested, we’d checked-in at their office on the day of our arrival and had been met with a friendly welcome, and instructions where to meet at Homer airport the following morning at 08:00AM…

*I think we probably got the previous season’s rate as our initial enquiry had been in December 2012, which is worth considering if you plan ahead.

…but things didn’t happen quite as planned.  Alaskan weather is notoriously changeable – and the second half of August was running true to form in that rainfall often increases then – but that all just serves to emphasise the sense that you’re on the edge of a true wilderness.  In Alaska, towns as big as Homer (the name ‘City of Homer’ always makes me smile as it had a population of 5,310 in 2013) don’t really qualify as ‘wilderness’, but you can probably see it from where you’re sitting, and the weather can always bring you back to a healthy sense of your insignificance.

The view over Kachemak Bay late in the afternoon on our arrival day in Homer.
The view over Kachemak Bay late in the afternoon on our arrival day in Homer.

On the morning of our intended departure we rose reasonably early, avoided scented deodorants/perfumes after bathing, dressed in multi layered clothing with hats, gloves and spare socks stowed, and checked each other’s pockets for errant tuna sandwiches.  We then made the 4.3 mile (6.9 km)/9 min. drive through the rain and mist down to Homer airport, where we were told we couldn’t fly yet, and that we should come back in an hour.

We drove back to our accommodation at Wild Rose Cottages, kicked our heels for 40 mins. and drove through the rain and mist down to Homer airport, where we were told we couldn’t fly yet, and that we should come back in an hour.

We drove back to our accommodation, kicked our heels for 40 mins. and drove through the rain and mist down to Homer airport, where we were told we wouldn’t be flying that day, and that we should report to the office on the Spit in an hour for a refund.

I totally get it that safety comes first, and that if the weather says you can’t fly, you can’t fly.  I accept that if there is no availability to re-schedule in the next few days, it would be unfair to shunt other booked passengers.  I really didn’t appreciate the total failure to express even the slightest modicum of regret on behalf of the company, the unwillingness to respond when asked to suggest any other companies who might be able to help out, and to then be presented with a paper cheque refund in US$ which we would be unable to cash until we returned home (even though we’d paid by visa all those months before). However, just because somebody else is having a bad week (and you never know what problems other people might be facing; I later came to understand why there might have been genuine reason in this instance) it doesn’t mean you have to let it affect you, and we suddenly had more important things to do.

You need to have a ‘Plan B’ (and probably a ‘Plan C’) for bear watching in Alaska.  Our plan B consisted of having several days still left in Homer and a list of all the other bear watching flight companies in town.

Our first stop was Emerald Air Services on Lakeshore Drive, where, when we explained our predicament, we were kindly and sympathetically told they had no availability for the period of our stay in Homer.  Maybe another time guys, looks like a great trip.

I have to admit that by now, and having already noticed a sign from another bear viewing flight company advertising availability after our departure date from Alaska, I had started to privately question whether I was going to be able to deliver on our hopes.  A third of a mile further on we turned down Lampert Loop, parked up, and somewhat despondently walked down to the Beluga Lake office of Steller Air, where we were welcomed with smiles from company founder Mark Munro , flight coordinator Olympia Piedra and the rest of the team, and a ‘can do’ attitude that felt like a hug.

Steller Air is a small floatplane charter service based on the 3000 x 600 ft. (914 x 183m) Homer-Beluga Lake Seaplane Base (known by the FAA as the excitingly coded ‘5BL’).  Their website, which is linked above, provides pretty comprehensive information about the services they offer – there’s no point in me copying it all here – and allows direct reservation enquiries.  You’ll have to visit them in person to get a true grasp of their friendliness and the sense of optimism that this operation inspires.

We were offered a flight to Crescent Lake (not to be confused with the Crescent Lake just north of Kenai Lake on the Peninsula or Lake Crescent in Clallam County in the north of Washington State) in the Lake Clark National Park on the 13th for $1,797 for the three of us, which we of course accepted. For the next 36 or so hours we kept a weather eye on the skies.  As we waited through the 12th, we visited the excellent Islands & Oceans Visitor Center of the Alaska Maritime National Wildlife Refuge, ate out at some great places (try the Boardwalk Bakery for breakfast, Maura’s Café for lunch (see below) and either the Fresh Catch Café or Captain Patties Fish House for dinner if you decide to visit Homer), and just relaxed around our rented house. On the afternoon before our intended new flight date the view across Kachemak Bay from the upper balcony of the Kelly House had some sunshine and encouraging streaks of blue in the sky.

The view to the south west over Kachemak Bay from the Kelly House, Homer, Alaska

By the following morning the world was looking a little too grey again.

Looking east across Kachemak Bay from Homer with a none-too-hopeful amount of light in the sky.
Looking east across Kachemak Bay from Homer with a none-too-hopeful amount of light in the sky.

We watched the gulls and a family of Trumpeter Swans down on Homer Spit before driving back to Beluga Lake, and had finished our breakfast burritos before we arrived, but remember that you will need to pre-declare your weight and it may be checked.  Take a look at the Stella Air blog for an insight into Alaska floatplane life (and more on what’s available to see and do with Steller). In case it gets deleted in future seasons, I’ve quoted this post for posterity.

 “Truth, Lies and Floatplanes in Homer, Alaska

On a floatplane ride, weights are important. We do a weight and balance of the aircraft to make sure that we are in the limits of a gross weight for a safe take off. Because of this, we ask every passenger their weight, or weigh them in the office. We also weigh a lot of gear. Because our flight coordinators ask a lot of people their weights, and then often have to weigh passengers when they come into the office, they have discovered an interesting fact in the course of loading floatplanes. Contrary to popular opinion, men lie about their weight more than women. Sure, a lady will not like to tell you how much she weighs, but she will discreetly whisper something close to the truth. Men, however, seem to boldly shout out a number that is often 30-40 pounds below their actual weight. Now boys, the girls in the office are working hard to get everyone and their gear to their Alaskan destinations—give them a number close to the truth getting everyone in the air will be a lot easier!”

Having arrived promptly at Steller Air for our safety briefing (and credit card payment), we prepared for departure.  Our aircraft for the day was N77206, a Cessna U206G Stationair floatplane (the red floatplane that features strongly in many Steller publicity images is Mark’s Cessna TU206A). This was the second time in less than 10 days that we’d flown on exactly the same type of aircraft, attesting to the ubiquity of this type of aircraft in Southcentral Alaska, so we were already confident of the machine’s capabilities.

What really put us at ease was the quietly spoken integrity and professionalism of our pilot, Tom Young, but you can read more about this later, and we were just keen to get into the air and out to some bears.  This Cessna 206 configuration has six forward facing seats in rows of two (including the pilot’s seat on the left), so I was seated next to Tom, and my wife and daughter were in the second row. The overhead wings provide for good downward visibility.  If there’s something to see.

As we reached the coast on the far side of Cook Inlet we continued flying north west up the line of the Crescent Valley, where we caught occasional glimpses of the Crescent River below and the jagged Chigmit Mountains to either side and ahead of us.
As we reached the coast on the far side of Cook Inlet we continued flying north west up the line of the Crescent Valley, where we caught occasional glimpses of the Crescent River below and the jagged Chigmit Mountains to either side and ahead of us.

We reached the confluence of the Lake Fork Crescent River and the North Fork Crescent River (not that we could see it) and swung west in the direction of the lake.  There was a brief two second sighting of the water ahead, and Tom said that he could probably get us down, and that there were less experienced pilots who would definitely go for it, but if we did go down he couldn’t guarantee we’d get out again.  The tone was clear, so this was an easy decision, as we’d signed up to fly with people who know what they’re doing and to respect their advice. We turned back to Homer.

The return flight was a little surreal as we flew back in the narrow space between the cloud above and the fog below:

Strange skies with Steller Air. Well it was for us, as we’re usually way above the cloud level when we fly, but it made for an unusual experience.
Strange skies with Steller Air. Well it was for us, as we’re usually way above the cloud level when we fly, but it made for an unusual experience.
No photo editing required. This is how it looked as we returned towards the Kenai Peninsula.
No photo editing required. This is how it looked as we returned towards the Kenai Peninsula.

We even got in a spot of glacier viewing as we circled by Grewingk Glacier:

A slightly eerie view across the fog-covered Kachemak Bay to Grewingk Glacier with the coast between Fritz Creek and Kachemak/Miller’s Landing just visible along the bottom of the image to the left.
A slightly eerie view across the fog-covered Kachemak Bay to Grewingk Glacier with the coast between Fritz Creek and Kachemak/Miller’s Landing just visible along the bottom of the image to the left.

A hole in the fog appeared above Beluga Lake and we circled back for our descent to the water:

Beluga Lake Seaplane Base

Sweeping over Bishops Beach, Beluga Slough (right image) and the AK1 (left image) we made our safe return to Steller Air (spot the red Steller Air floatplane in the left image).
Sweeping over Bishops Beach, Beluga Slough (right image) and the AK1 (left image) we made our safe return to Steller Air (spot the red Steller Air floatplane in the left image).

We now only had one day left before we had to start our homeward journey, so we had no hesitation in deciding to see if we could book another flight the following day. We were in for a shock.  As we asked the question we were told that as they hadn’t got us onto Crescent Lake, Steller Air would be willing to try again the following day at no extra charge.  Forget fancy words on websites and brochures.  This is what a real commitment to customer satisfaction looks like.

It also demonstrates Steller Air’s commitment to passenger and pilot safety.  Tom must have known what it would cost the company, but he hadn’t hesitated when he advised the return that day.

Olympia recommended Maura’s Café, and after we’d bagged the remains of our huge deli sandwiches – we’d taken the option of a side of soup for just $1 extra, and there was no way we could have finished all of the delicious first choices too – we strolled off down Bishops Beach.

The weather still wasn’t looking too promising at this point, but at least we had renewed hope as we walked, and gradually the fog started to dissipate.
The weather still wasn’t looking too promising at this point, but at least we had renewed hope as we walked, and gradually the fog started to dissipate.

By the late afternoon, as we watched Sea Otters and Bald Eagles around Homer Spit, the sky had turned blue.

From back up on East Hill Road the world suddenly started to look rather different, as we could see the sun shining on Beluga Lake, on houses at the far shore of Kachemak Bay, and glistening on the snow in the peaks above.  That night a half-moon shone through thin cloud.

This photo from the following morning’s take off once again shows how quickly the weather can change in Alaska, and although some cloud had returned, this was much more like what we’d been hoping for:

Take off in a north easterly direction from Beluga Lake with a clear view of the line of Homer Spit. At the top end of the Beluga Wetlands Complex is the Homer Airport Critical Habitat Area which can be visited on foot.
Take off in a north easterly direction from Beluga Lake with a clear view of the line of Homer Spit. At the top end of the Beluga Wetlands Complex is the Homer Airport Critical Habitat Area which can be visited on foot.

Tom was our pilot again, and as we flew across the placid waters of Cook Inlet we could see small drilling rigs, and even smaller private boats leaving distinctive wakes.  We apologised to Tom when Rachael decided to take a sleep break, but he just took it as a sign of a confident passenger:

Rachael sporting her then new Alaska Geographic buff which has since become her standard accompaniment to any cold weather.]
Rachael sporting her then new Alaska Geographic buff which has since become her standard accompaniment to any cold weather.
As we approached the land, and turned north east to run up the coast, we got a much closer (if still slightly hazy) view of Mt. Iliamna than we’d seen on our original drive into Homer:

Mt. Iliamna (10,016 ft (3,053m)) is the smaller of the two Pacific ‘Ring of Fire’ Aleutian chain volcanoes in the Lake Clark National Park. A stratovolcano, you can see one of its many glaciers emerging from beneath the cloud band in this image. It hasn’t properly erupted since 1876, but fumaroles are continuously active.

As I get to the bit where we headed inland into the Lake Clark National Park and Preserve (NP&P) again, it’s worth reflecting on the size of the area of which we were about to experience a tiny slice…

Map reproduced from the public domain NPS .pdf file available here.
Map reproduced from the public domain NPS .pdf file available here.

According to the National Park Service Land Resources Division summary listing of NP acreage (31/12/2015) [see here for statistical sources] Lake Clark NP&P covers a total area of 4,030,130.17 acres (1,630,936 ha) / 6,297 square miles (16,309 km2). Of this area 2,619,836.49 acres (1,060,210 ha) /4,093 square miles (10,600 km2) lie in the park and 1,410,293.68 (570,726 ha) / 2,204 square miles (5,708 km2) in the preserve.

As one of the top 10 US National Parks by size (most of the largest parks are in Alaska), Lake Clark NP&P is larger than the State of Connecticut, and nearly as large as Hawaii.  It’s larger than the Everglades, Grand Canyon and Yosemite National Parks combined, but whereas these parks attracted a total of over 9 million visitors in 2014, Lake Clark NP&P saw just 16,100 visitors in the same period (and that was a huge increase over the 2013 figure of 13,000 visitors), so crowded it is not.  There is just one residential community within the Park and Preserve, at Port Alsworth (population 159 at the 2010 census), which is located on the eastern shore Clark Lake, about 50 miles (80 km) from Crescent Lake.

The reason for the low visitor numbers is simply down to the fact that, apart from the coast, which can be reached by a comparatively long boat trip (and there are some powerful rips in Cook Inlet), if you’re going to visit the Lake Clark NP&P you’ll have to fly there. You can enlarge the above map as much as you want, but you won’t be able to find a drive-in route because there aren’t any roads there.  There are barely even any maintained trails (except around Port Alsworth), and none where we were heading.

The coastal region of the park, in which Crescent Lake is situated, is just outside the officially demarcated “Wilderness Area”, but it all looked pretty isolated to me. There are a few Park Ranger stations (at Chinitna Bay, Port Alsworth, Silver Salmon Creek, Telaquana Lake and Twin Lakes), and, away from Port Alsworth, a few remote cabins and lodges for rent.

As you start to fly up the Crescent River you might notice a few ‘track lines’ in the trees to your left at Squarehead Cove.  These are the remnants of a Crescent River logging project which stopped in 2002 after clear cutting about 700 acres of trees between 2000-2001.  If you have a low level flight &/or great eyesight (take some binoculars) you might see the properties on the adjacent coastal strip of land first homesteaded by the Kroll family in the 1940’s, and which have been intermittently occupied by their descendants since that time.

As we flew up the course of the Crescent River, the mighty valleys that had only been hinted at the previous day were revealed…

The Chigmit Mountains

…before we reached Redoubt volcano.

At 10,197 ft (3,108 m) Redoubt volcano is the largest volcano in the Aleutian chain (and more than twice the height of the tallest mountain in my home country). Lying on the Bruin Bay fault, this active stratovolcano last erupted in 1990. At that time the berms of the Drift River Oil Terminal near Redoubt Bay were nearly broached by a giant mudslide (lahar) which partially flooded the complex.
At 10,197 ft (3,108 m) Redoubt volcano is the largest volcano in the Aleutian chain (and more than twice the height of the tallest mountain in my home country). Lying on the Bruin Bay fault, this active stratovolcano last erupted in 2009. At that time the berms of the Drift River Oil Terminal near Redoubt Bay were nearly broached by a giant mudslide (lahar) which partially flooded the complex.

We flew on up the Lake Fork Crescent River and quickly reached Crescent Lake.  What a difference a day makes.

From above, the water of Crescent Lake was a distinctly milky blue-grey colour.
From above, the water of Crescent Lake was a distinctly milky blue-grey colour.

The following technical description of Crescent Lake is taken from a USGS document:

“Land cover is primarily alpine tundra and bare soil (44%), spruce forest (31%), and permanent ice and snow (18%). Lake Fork Crescent River drains an area of 125 mi2. Notable features in this watershed are glaciers, which comprise about 16% of the basin and Crescent Lake. Crescent Lake is approximately 6 mi long and slightly more than 1 mi wide. The average depth of the lake is about 75 ft, and the deepest part is about 100 ft. The lake is oligotrophic; its open-water period lasts about 5 months – from June through October. Thermally, Crescent Lake is a dimictic lake – it circulates twice a year – in the spring and the fall. It is directly stratified during summer and inversely stratified during winter. Surface temperatures characteristically reach 10 to 12°C during the open-water period. Annual water-residence time or flushing rate is estimated to be 0.7 to 0.8 years. Most of the inflow comes from overland runoff and snowmelt. Inflow from definable streams consists of meltwater from glaciers on the southwest side of the basin, at mid-lake. The other major tributary is at the upper end of the lake. Because Crescent Lake is glacier-fed, the lake and its outflow have the characteristic turquoise colour. However, Crescent Lake does trap much of the suspended sediment that enters the lake. The North Fork Crescent River drains an area of about 75 mi2. Approximately 23% of the basin consists of glaciers. The North Fork channel is relatively steep, and during open water is characterized by the typical turbid colour of glacier-fed streams. The confluence of the North Fork and Lake Fork Crescent Rivers forms the mainstem of the Crescent River. In this section, the streambed channel becomes braided, and the channels constantly scour and shift.”

The above text reminds how short the floatplane fly-in period is, and how long the icy Alaskan grip on Crescent Lake endures, but it doesn’t describe how beautiful it is up there.

From the surface of the lake there is a greener or more turquoise hue to the water. Our landing was like all our landings with Steller Air. Smooth.
From the surface of the lake there is a greener or more turquoise hue to the water. Our landing was like all our landings with Steller Air. Smooth.

Taxiing over to the landing beach, the Cessna was turned out towards the lake, reverse thrust applied, and the pontoons grounded so that we didn’t even have to wet our feet on disembarking.  We had arrived at Redoubt Mountain Lodge (RML) where we were first welcomed by the guard dogs K’eyush and Charlie (lodge security), and then by the friendly staff.

We were introduced to Colleen, our guide for the day, who we later learned was a fairly new and enthusiastic addition to the RML guiding team, having joined a couple of months previously after working as a volunteer with the US Peace Corps in warmer climes.

Boarding a comfortable and stable 4-stroke outboard-powered pontoon, we headed to the nearby southern shore of Crescent Lake, near the point where the lake flows out into the lower Lake Fork Crescent River.

Crescent Lake shores - bear territory

Crescent Lake, Lake Clark National Park, Alaska

If you fully enlarge the above image RML can just be seen to the left extent of the nearest tree line.

The scenery was captivating, and would be worth visiting even if there weren’t bears along the shores. Around Crescent Lake the forest is mainly composed of Dwarf Birch (Betula nana exilis), Paper Birch (Betula neoalaskana) and White Spruce (Picea glauca) with Feathermoss and lichens.
The scenery was captivating, and would be worth visiting even if there weren’t bears along the shores. Around Crescent Lake the forest is mainly composed of Dwarf Birch (Betula nana exilis), Paper Birch (Betula neoalaskana) and White Spruce (Picea glauca) with Feathermoss and lichens.

Manoeuvring backwards and forwards in parallel to the narrow beaches and shoreline scrub vegetation along just a couple of miles, we spent our time in the almost constant sight of bears, and were treated to a great range of their behaviours.

Fortunately for us, as it brings the bears out of the trees and scrub and into the water, Crescent Lake is one of the most productive Sockeye Salmon areas in the park.  Between 1979 and 2012 (when they ran out of funding) the Alaska Department of Fisheries and Game used a sonar station located a couple of miles upstream from the Crescent River’s mouth to count returning fish numbers, and a fish wheel to determine the relative proportions of Sockeye to the smaller numbers of Pink, King, Chum and Coho Salmon, and Dolly Varden. Starting as early as the 15th June and ending as late as 12th August, the average count of returning Sockeye in the 33 years data was obtained in this period (no figures for 2009, but there was a small problem with Redoubt volcano erupting earlier that year) was nearly 73,000 fish per year swimming up the Crescent River.

Alaskan Coastal Brown Bear (Ursus arctos horribilis). Don’t expect to get too close to the bears on this trip - we were at the limit of my wife’s 70-300mm telephoto lens in these shots - but you will be close enough to be awed by their size and by the spectacle of these wild creatures acting in a completely natural manner.
Alaskan Coastal Brown Bear (Ursus arctos horribilis). Don’t expect to get too close to the bears on this trip – we were at the limit of my wife’s 70-300mm telephoto lens in these shots – but you will be close enough to be awed by their size and by the spectacle of these wild creatures acting in a completely natural manner.

“Is it a brown bear or a grizzly? The answer is that all grizzlies are brown bears, but not all brown bears are grizzlies. The grizzly is a North American subspecies of brown bear with the Latin name Ursus arctos horribilis. The correct scientific name for a grizzly is “brown bear,” but only coastal bears in Alaska and Canada are generally referred to as such, while inland and Arctic bears and those found in the lower 48 States are called grizzly bears.” [Source: PBS Nature Brown Bear Fact Sheet]

A sow with two cubs was our main viewing pleasure, as she patrolled the shoreline, taking careful regard and retreat at one point from a potential male bear threat (but ignoring us and anchored anglers), and taught her young how to fish for Sockeye Salmon in the lake’s margins.
A sow with two cubs was our main viewing pleasure, as she patrolled the shoreline, taking careful regard and retreat at one point from a potential male bear threat (but ignoring us and anchored anglers), and taught her young how to fish for Sockeye Salmon in the lake’s margins.
The only Brown Bear species larger than the Coastal Brown Bear is the genetically distinct subspecies the Kodiac Bear (Ursus arctos middendorffi). The omnivorous Coastal Brown Bears we saw had grown to their huge size due to the protein rich diet provided by this environment.
The only Brown Bear species larger than the Coastal Brown Bear is the genetically distinct subspecies the Kodiac Bear (Ursus arctos middendorffi). The omnivorous Coastal Brown Bears we saw had grown to their huge size due to the protein rich diet provided by this environment.

After about 2.5 hrs watching the bears we returned to the 5-acre bear protected Redoubt Lodge, as not only was our ride home ‘anchored’ there, but our trip also included a delicious lunch of an Alaska sized serving of fresh salmon.

I chatted with Tom about flying as a part of life in life in the Last Frontier “where 82 percent of communities have no road access, airplanes are used like pickup trucks and many young Alaskans learn to fly before they learn to drive”. With a state population of around 710,000 (2010 census) around 1 in every 60 Alaskans is a qualified to fly. He described the need for locals to be versatile in order to survive outside the brief tourist season.  He and his wife were just setting up a new aquaponics venture, which it’s good to see seems to be doing pretty well, although I’m somehow not surprised.

It was all very unhurried and relaxed, but eventually it was time to depart.  For our return flight there were two extra passengers in the shape of a young couple returning to Homer, and as there was no significant weight imbalances between us all, it was no problem when we volunteered to shunt backwards in the seating plan so that they might fully enjoy the sights we’d had coming in to Crescent Lake.  That said, it wasn’t as though we weren’t able to enjoy some amazing views on the way back.

The view at the top of Crescent Lake where the upper Lake Fork Crescent River meanders in multiple streams.
Circling at the top of Crescent Lake before heading over its calm surface and back down towards its outlet and the lower section of the Lake Fork Crescent River marked the start of the route back to Homer.
Circling at the top of Crescent Lake before heading over its calm surface and back down towards its outlet and the lower section of the Lake Fork Crescent River marked the start of the route back to Homer.
We took many photos of the braided course of the Crescent River on our return, but this is one of my favourites. It’s only some light blue water and grey silt banks in a green forest landscape, but I feel that my life is richer for having seen this beautiful wild landscape and shared the view with my family.
We took many photos of the braided course of the Crescent River on our return, but this is one of my favourites. It’s only some light blue water and grey silt banks in a green forest landscape, but I feel that my life is richer for having seen this beautiful wild landscape and shared the view with my family.
Returning to Cook Inlet as we left the Lake Clark National Park over the mouth of the Crescent River. Beyond the outflow is Tuxedni Bay.
Returning to Cook Inlet as we left the Lake Clark National Park over the mouth of the Crescent River. Beyond the outflow is Tuxedni Bay.

We flew on with views of Kalgin Island to our left and quickly reached the Kenai Peninsula once again, before travelling down the coast to Homer.

A view of where Deep Creek enters Cook Inlet near Ninilchik
A view of where Deep Creek enters Cook Inlet near Ninilchik.

When we reached Homer, the aerial view was a stark contrast to that of the preceding day:

Bishops Beach and the City of Homer, Alaska
Destination Steller Air, Beluga Lake, Homer, Alaska

Homer Spit with the tide out at our return.
Homer Spit with the tide out at our return.
Our final descent onto Beluga Lake in the opposite direction to our take off.
Our final descent onto Beluga Lake in the opposite direction to our take off.
Safe return in the sunshine at the home of Steller Air with courtesy and care as standard operating procedure.
Safe return in the sunshine at the home of Steller Air with courtesy and care as standard operating procedure.

There isn’t much more to say than that we’d primarily travelled to Homer so that we could fly out to see Brown Bears in wild Alaskan territory, and, despite the proverbial weather hitting the propellers, we achieved that aim THANKS TO STELLER AIR!

I’ve saved this sticker from our trip, and if it looks right on my daughter’s first car, she can have it. Maybe I’ll have to make sure we buy her a car that doesn’t suit, so that I can finally put it on my car.
I’ve saved this sticker from our trip, and if it looks right on my daughter’s first car, she can have it. Maybe I’ll have to make sure we buy her a car that doesn’t suit, so that I can finally put it on my car.

Steller Air currently list two bear viewing day trip options: the trip we took to Crescent Lake, or a flight out to Brooks Camp, each of which is $650 per person.

In case you really can’t get a flight with Stellar Air (or you feel like you want a different type of bear viewing experience), other bear viewing operations flying out of Homer are as follows below.  Listed pricing is as per company websites at time of posting, but check directly for updates.  Check the minimum passenger numbers, any age limits just in case you’re travelling with young children, and deposit refund periods too.  Research the locations used at the dates of your intended travel and look closely at the package details as there are some important differences in the offers, especially in terms of time spent at the destinations.  If I were to book another bear viewing trip other than with Steller Air I’d invest in the cost of some international telephone calls to get a feel for the company.

  • Bald Mountain Air Services fly two 10-passenger DHC3 Turbine Single Otter floatplanes to Katmai coastal river sites, Brooks River Falls, or Moraine Creek (in the north of the Katmai NP) depending on the time of year. Flights cost $675 per person 1st-30th June and 1st-15th  It’s $695 per person 1st July-30th August. Again, there’s a small discount if you pay by cash or personal/travellers cheque – $25 per person – but, as you need to get a 50% deposit cheque to them within 30 days of booking, the same limitations as above are effective.
  • Beluga Air is located next to Steller Air on Beluga Lake and fly with a 7-passenger DHC-2 Beaver floatplane. Most of the year they fly to the Katmai National Park (Brooks Camp, Crosswind Lake, Morraine and Funnel Creeks, Hallo Bay, Geographic Harbor, or Swikshak Lagoon) for bear viewing but also use Chinitna Bay and Crescent Lake.  Prices appear to be on application.
  • Emerald Air Service offer a guided day trip by 7-passenger DHC U-6A Beaver floatplane to an unspecified location which looks like it could be in the Katmai. $675.00 per person (credit card), $650 (cash, cheque or travellers cheque, but that presents the same deposit issue as Bald Mountain Air for non-US visitors). 50% deposit within 10 days of booking, remainder due upon travel. As mentioned near the start of this post, you can find them on Beluga Lake.
  • Homer Air is the sister company to Smokey Bay Air, and offer bear viewing at either Lake Clark NP or the Katmai for $625 per person. They run 5-passenger wheeled Cessna U206G aircraft for beach landings from Homer airport.
  • K-Bay Air (also running the same trips under the Alaska Bear Adventures brand [http://alaskabearviewing.com/]) offer three options: a “Short & Sweet Day Trip” at $589 per person, a “Classic Day Trip” at $695 per person ($670 per person for 4 or more), and a tailored Premium Day Trip, POA. There’s a $50 booking deposit and then payment is arranged in full. They run three 5-passenger wheeled Cessna 206 aircraft for beach landings from Homer airport.
  • Smokey Bay Air offer bear viewing flights to Chinitna Bay, Silver Salmon Creek (Lake Clark NP), or Hallo Bay for $625 per person (min. 2 persons), 30% deposit on booking. Wheeled aircraft for beach landings. They also run 5-passenger wheeled Cessna U206F and U206G aircraft for beach landings from Homer airport.

More online information.

The Summitpost page for the Aleutian Range of mountains.

The Alaska Department of Fish and Game (ADFG) web page for bear viewing in the Lake Clark National Park and Preserve.

Brown Bear information from the ADFG.

The US NPS web pages for Crescent Lake and the Brown Bears of the Lake Clark National Park.  As is usual with the NPS, there’s lots of information here which is well worth looking at before you travel.

The 1988 NPS Final environmental impact statement: wilderness recommendation : Lake Clark National Park and Preserve, Alaska, with over 200 pages of information on the park’s wilderness designation.  A little dated with regard to the then apparently unrecognised value of bear viewing, but lots of good background reading here, especially pages 26-44.

The IUCN Red List entry for global Brown Bear populations.

A 2003 NPS Water Resources Scoping Report for the Lake Clark National Park.

A 2006 USGS report on “Water Quality of the Crescent River Basin, Lake Clark National Park and Preserve, Alaska, 2003–2004” including notes on the impact of logging.