Mountain Goats, Shrimping, and a rare treasure found in Prince William Sound, Whittier, Alaska
17 May 2023 Trip to Whittier
Another spring trip to Whittier with our small Alaskan family. Our aim was to set up our shrimp pots for the second time this season and to explore the beautiful Blackstone Bay. Getting to Blackstone is quite the trip for our little skiff and the weather must be perfect. Our outing ended wonderfully and we even found a rare treasure along the way.
The day started slowly - everything moves at half speed with a baby in the house. The truck did not leave the driveway until 1130 am. I did not mind the delay as the daylight hours are long in May and it pays to be prepared with a well fed, rested and warmly dressed baby.
The drive to Whittier was uneventful (which is always a good thing.) The Turnagain arm was gorgeous with spring in full swing. Fresh greens on the trees, blue skies, and ample warm sunlight. We listened to a Harry Potter audio-book on the drive (we are on the 5th book now)
When we arrived at the tunnel to get to Whittier, I accidentally chose the wrong toll line with the boat. The woman working at the toll booth was extremely upset; her anger did not seem to match the severity of the situation. Our boat is tiny, and it took less than a minute to correct the error. I will remember to pick the correct lane next time to avoid her wrath.
Soon we were through the tunnel and the gorgeous weather and surrounding views made the emotional residue of the angry attendant dissolve. I am always surprised at how different the landscape is on the other side of the tunnel. The passage bores through the side of a mountain for a mere 3 miles but the environment on the other side is drastically different. A mix of Spruce, Poplar, Birch, and Alder turn into uniform Hemlock forests. The mountains transform from the familiar slopes of the Chugach into sea cliffs rising hundreds of feet straight out of the ocean.
The climate here is different too. Spring had hardly touched this side of the mountains and it still looked like winter. The buds on the trees had hardly popped and there was snow still covering the sides of the slopes at lower elevation.
The setback of seasons was evident in the landscape but not the weather. It was warm and sunny. This spell of weather would surely hasten the arrival of spring. Days like these in Whittier and Prince William Sound are uncommon. Most of our trips the sky is covered with steel gray clouds which are beautiful in their own way. However when the sun shines it casts shadows which reveal hidden details of mountains, glaciers and shorelines. On days like these I will scan the landscape and think things like, “I didn’t realize there was a ridgeline running down that slope,” or “wow the shadows make those glacier crevasses look so deep!”
I continued to observe the landscape and weather as we made the short drive to the harbor. We parked and Lora took the opportunity to feed Evie as I prepped the boat. It usually takes 30-45 minutes to get baby fed so I have ample time to get the boat ready to go. I set up the depth finder, rigged and baited the shrimp pots, and even took a moment to make a quick sandwich for lora and I (peanut butter of course). Once the baby was full of milk and drowsy from eating, we stuffed her into an incredibly puffy suit that reminds me of the ones you might see on Mt. Everest expeditions. On top of the suit, we zip a hot pink neoprene life jacket for safety and extra warmth. We were now ready to launch the boat, which is no small achievement when a 4 month old is along for the ride.
Having a baby leads to interesting interactions with others in public. Prior to having a child Lora and I were mostly ignored by strangers. Now all sorts of people want to talk and interact with us when Evie is around; This time a state trooper at the docks insisted that he help tie up our boat. He exclaimed when he our baby “you look like you got your hands full!” He took the ropes from me as I slid the boat off the trailer and helped Lora tie it up while I parked. Babies seem to bring out the best in everyone.
Eveline snoozing on the deck of the boat. She is likely dreaming about all of the delicious shrimp we’ll catch.
The police officer did a safety check of our vessel and once was satisfied we scooted out of the harbor. The sea had a small scallop-like chop to it and the sun had persisted with further hints of clearing up. I was able to cruise at about 20 mph aided by our reliable 50 HP Yamaha outboard. I set the GPS coordinates to take us to Blackstone Bay. It was impossible to get lost, but I was nervous because we had not gone that far out with little Evie yet.
During the 12-mile trip we saw around 10 mountain goats. One particular goat was on some extremely steep cliffs, and I turned the boat towards it for a photo opportunity. I readied my 100-500mm lens as we slowly approached. Lora and I marveled at the steepness of the cliffs the animal was living in. The cliffs rose vertically from the ocean and somehow the goat was able to keep its footing. I commented to Lora, "wow I wonder how often they fall? How crazy would it be to find a goat skull at the bottom of some cliffs like these?"
I scanned the rocky beach below the cliffs hoping to see something and I was shocked when I saw a white and fluffy looking object that stood out from the rocks. We were still 100 yards offshore, and I zoomed in on the object with my super telephoto lens and saw a white furry hoof sticking in the air - I recognized the hoof shape immediately as I had spent considerable amounts of time butchering a mountain goat I had harvested last fall.
The hoof shape was familiar to me because of how often I handled them when cutting up the goat on the steep mountainside. I used the legs and hooves as levers to position the animal as I skinned the hide and quartered up the meat. This experience made me certain the shape on the shoreline was a goat and I exclaimed to Lora, “No way, you’re not going to believe this! I see a goat right on the beach - you can see its hoof and tufts of fur!”
It may confuse some people as to why I was so excited about a dead goat – but any hunter or person who frequents wild places knows how rare occurrences like these are. It was obviously unfortunate that his goat had perished, likely in a terrible accident. However, it was also an opportunity to document the experience in a photograph – and if we were lucky maybe we would end up with a skull to take back home with us.
The safety of the cliffs comes at a steep price. Finding a perfectly preserved mountain goat at sea level is quite rare. The cold environment and secluded nature of where it fell kept it in great condition.
I have developed an odd passion for photographing old bones since I started exploring Alaska. Bones tell a story and are a reminder of the impermanence of all living things. I enjoy photographing a natural process that is taboo in western culture. Death is a shunned topic and often viewed as grotesque. I love having the opportunity to photograph a culturally abhorrent subject and turning it into something worth contemplating.
I was excited to get to the beach to see what condition the bones were in. Goats are often obliterated after falling. I have heard many hunters tell tales of never getting a skull or even any meat from a successful goat hunt because of how traumatic the fall from steep cliffs can be. To my surprise the head was in perfect shape - hardly any flesh remaining without a single crack. The jaw was intact about ten feet away and the remaining hide was dry and stiff as a rock. It hardly smelled and likely had sat on this beach for quite some time; the inaccessibility of this small beach likely protected the animal from scavengers that would have mangled and spread the bones over a great distance.
I took photos for about 30 minutes trying out different angles. I did not disturb the scene as I wanted to capture it as it was. Lora took this opportunity to feed Eveline and propped herself near a small waterfall. I swapped between taking shots of the goat skull and of the live goats on the cliffs above. They looked down curiously at me but were not frightened. They knew I could not get to them even if I wanted to.
A goat in the cliffs above spied on me while I photographed her fallen comrade. This goat is clearly pregnant and due to give birth any moment!
After getting my fill of goat photography I twisted the skull off the carcass of the animal to keep as a curio. I will clean it up and display it in our home. While some might argue I should have left it I feel that the perfect condition and rarity of it demanded otherwise. Due to its location it would likely never be found by another person. Putting the skull on display in our home will surely evoke the feelings of the wonder and wildness these animals exude.
Evie eventually got her fill of milk and we then loaded back in the boat and got back to the business of setting the shrimp pots. Blackstone Bay was gorgeous as usual. The far-off tidal glaciers could be seen looming over the ocean. We had gotten close to them during previous trips, but I have heard horror stories of people getting too close and the glacier calving and swamping boats and killing. I did not want to get anywhere near the glacier with helpless little Eveline aboard. The far-away views from where we safely floated we good enough.
The shores of Blackstone Bay are studded with mountains caked in powdery white snow. they were dappled in bright sunlight filtering through high wispy clouds. The scene was overwhelmingly blue between the sky, ocean, and distant glaciers. We cruised towards our shrimp spot and came to a series of small waterfalls cascading down steep cliffs. The ocean was deep here, and we tossed the pots overboard baited with all manner of things - commercial pellets, Pine Marten skulls from my trap-line, thanksgiving leftovers from the freezer and Braunschweiger (pork liver) my mom left in the fridge on her last visit. It was nasty stuff and I was sure the shrimp would love it.
View of Blackstone bay and our shrimp buoy. It is set in about 550 ft of water!
With the shrimp pots set we turned the boat back towards home. I felt so lucky to live in such a pristine environment that was bursting to brim with life. The cliffs above there were goats and sea birds; in the turquoise waters below there were all manner of sea life a variety of starfish, urchins, jellyfish, Chitons and small fish.
As we cruised back to port the waves rocked baby Eveline to sleep. I glanced behind me, and the goat skull gently rattled in the 5-gallon bucket I stashed it in. The skull again reminded me of my relationship to death. I have lost many people close to me over the years, and I also work in the intensive care unit as a nurse. I have experienced more death than 99% of the average population. My exposure to death can be mentally cumbersome at times, but it also is a constant reminder to be fully present and enjoy the time I have left. I know that life is fleeting, and it reminds me to cherish the moments I have left with my family and with nature.