Western hemlock, Sitka spruce, and cedar line the slopes of these mist-shrouded Fiords. Now, many trips later, we are still stunned by the immensity and beauty of our surroundings. As we move southward toward the Punchbowl, the clouds return to the Monument, reminding us of its well-chosen name. Fog and mist hang in wisps in several layers starting 100 feet above the shore, obscuring the high peaks of the Punchbowl. The waist-high leaves of the skunk cabbage lie low along the ground with no sign of their yellow spiked blossoms that bloomed early in the summer.
Salmonberries hang pendulous from their branches, a treat for the bears that inhabit the region.
Another sign of autumn are the hundreds of leaping salmon that gather at the mouth of Behm Canal's creeks in anticipation of a rainstorm that will raise the water and allow them to head upstream to their spawning areas. From the boat we witness numerous bears, eager to fatten themselves for their winter hibernation, gorging themselves on these unfortunate salmon. As the Nordhavn navigates into the fiord, we are treated to a myriad of waterfalls along the Punchbowl that appear in the mist as thin, white stripes painted on the grey, granite walls. We watch as the melting snow tumbles nearly 3,000 feet from the high ridges on its journey to the Pacific Ocean. In places the rock is deeply cut indicating that a glacier worked its way out of the basin some millennia ago.