Berg, in the entrance to Fords Terror, 2012. We thought that it was grounded out on a gravel bar and therefore stable. We were wrong, wrong, wrong…
One September, filmmaker Dan Kowalski and I, traveling in his 36’ crabber, were surprised to see an unusual iceberg grounded out right in the entrance to Fords Terror, a spectacular inlet, some 50 miles south of Juneau. Perhaps 90 feet long by maybe 20 wide, it rose to a peak 30’ above the water with a large hole you could kayak through: a very unusual berg. Anchoring a quarter of a mile away, we decided to investigate with the inflatable. Our knowledge that bergs can capsize easily was tempered by the berg’s appearing to be grounded out on the shallow bottom, and therefore likely to be stable. Approaching carefully, we were awed by its grandeur. It was a totally gorgeous day: blue sky, waterfalls tumbling down the sides of the inlet, seals popping up: such beauty creating a zen-like experience.
And this big eagle just seemed to watch it all!
We were both standing up in the little inflatable, taking photograps as we drifted slowly down its side, when there was a rumble, more felt than heard.
“That’s the ice, talking to us,” said Dan.
About ten seconds later the big berg broke in half right in the middle of the 30’ high arch, everything happening in slow motion - one half slowly rolling toward us, the top of the arch just missing the back of the boat. The other half toppled the other way and the part that was previously underwater came up suddenly next to us, rolling water into the inflatable. Wisely, we took our clue and motored to a safer distance about 30 yards away from where ice chunks the size of the inflatable were still surfacing from the rollover.
We just lay there for a bit as the berg, now two, resettled itself into the calm waters of the inlet.
And like John Muir, a hundred and fifty or so years earlier, we were humbled by the beauty and the power of what had just been shown to us. And keenly aware of the message that had also been sent: Be Careful!