Glacier Cruising to Skagway
- Paul Hallman
- May 8
- 4 min read
After arriving in Whittier and spending the day in town, we left the port and began two days of glacier cruising—one of those stretches of a trip where the scenery doesn’t just change, it completely takes over.
Our first major glacier day brought us to Hubbard Glacier, located in eastern Alaska near Yakutat, where it flows out of the Saint Elias Mountains into Disenchantment Bay. Hubbard is famous for its sheer scale—it’s the largest tidewater glacier in North America—and it has a reputation for being unusually active. Unlike many glaciers that are steadily retreating, Hubbard has been known to advance at times, even pushing far enough to temporarily block the entrance to Russell Fjord and create a natural dam that raised water levels behind it. It’s a reminder that glaciers aren’t just scenery—they’re powerful, moving forces that can reshape the coastline.
It was a dreary two days with day one being rainy and the following day cloudy so the photos are rather dull.
As our ship eased into the bay, we started passing small floating bergs—little pieces of ice scattered across the water like clues of what was ahead. Some were small enough to look harmless, others big enough to make you pause, but all of them felt like fragments from something much larger.
The closer we got, the more those “small” chunks made sense. Then Hubbard came fully into view: a wide, towering wall of ice stretching across the bay, so massive it made the ship feel tiny. It’s hard to understand the scale until you’re there, watching the glacier fill the horizon.
The weather that day didn’t cooperate. It was raining—steady and cold—and it wasn’t the kind of day you wanted to stand out in the open for long. Still, I wasn’t going to miss it. I found a covered spot at the aft of the ship, where I could stay mostly dry and still keep a clear view. From there I managed to get photos of the glacier and even a short video of calving, when part of the ice breaks away and crashes into the sea.
One thing that surprised me is how much sound is part of the experience. Glaciers don’t just sit there quietly. Even when nothing dramatic seems to be happening, you can hear deep creaks and groans as the ice shifts and flows downhill. Then there are sharp cracks—sudden pops that sound almost like a rifle shot—when stress releases and fractures open. And when calving happens, it’s unmistakable: a loud crack, a heavy boom as the ice falls, and then a long roar of churning water and grinding ice, followed by waves rolling outward across the bay.
That night we sailed on toward a whole new glacier landscape, and the next day the weather was much better as we entered Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve in southeast Alaska. Glacier Bay isn’t just one glacier—it’s an entire protected region shaped by ice, with fjords, steep mountains, and multiple glaciers feeding down toward the sea. The history here is incredible: only a few hundred years ago, much of what is now open water was filled with ice.
There were rangers from the Glacier Bay National Park on board and they gave us the history of the bay. Glacier Bay filled with water rapidly over the past 250 years, transitioning from a massive, singular glacier in 1750 to a 65-mile-long fjord by 1916. While completely filled with ice when first surveyed in 1794, the glacier retreated over 60 miles, allowing the sea to fill the bay
As the glaciers retreated, they revealed the bay and the shorelines we cruise through today. Because those changes happened relatively recently, Glacier Bay became one of the most important places for understanding how landscapes recover after glaciers pull back—how plants return, how wildlife moves in, and how an ecosystem rebuilds itself from bare rock.
We spent the day cruising among the glaciers, and we did get to see Margerie Glacier, one of the most iconic sights in the park. With the clearer weather, the details stood out—the height of the ice face, the blue tones, and the fractures and ridges that make it look almost architectural. I took photos of Margerie - it’s the kind of glacier that looks unreal even in pictures.
And then came one of those moments you don’t forget: I managed to get a video from another passenger who posted on Facebook, of a calving event near our ship, and it was amazing. The crack came first, then the sudden movement, and then the explosion of white water as the ice hit the sea. Afterward, the waves rolled out and the smaller pieces spread across the surface—beautiful, powerful, and a little humbling, like watching something ancient change right in front of your eyes. It was an extremely large event and not always able to see it happen in real time.
There were many Sea Gulls following our ship and I captured one as he tried to dive bomb others as well as passengers viewing the glaciers.
After Glacier Bay, we left the ice behind and headed toward Skagway, ready to trade glacier faces and floating bergs for a day in an Alaskan town with its own history waiting on shore. The scenery was amazing as we sailed to our next port where we will get our feet on the ground again.
We are looking forward to Skagway.
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