Each time I dive underwater at one of our snorkel spots, I wait for the air to bubble out of my snorkel and I relax, wait, and listen. So far, I haven’t heard the familiar song denoting the presence of our North Pacific humpback whales, but I wait with bated breath, because I know the song, and the whales themselves could appear at any moment.
We near the behemoth slices of glacial ice and slow our pace, gliding and rolling over the water as our wake gently nudges us forward. The icebergs torn from the face of the glacier have traveled down the fjord and anchored themselves on the sea floor, where they wait to be carved by the forces of nature.
Alaska has delivered yet again. How could you possibly top the last couple of days? Only with the impossible, of course.
The Solitario family doesn’t teach in schools. Their classroom is the valley, their auditorium the ocean.
When we start a walk through the rain forest, the first thing I say to our guests is "Keep your voice down so we can see and hear more things."