"There's a whale right here, next to us!" whispered 15-year-old Will, leaning over the railing and trying to focus his camera on the shiny black hump off the port-side bow. "And there's another one, right there!" he said, pointing at the second giant head that rose up and tipped sideways, fixing a round black eye on the ship.
Humpback whales, too many to count, circled the Sea Bird as the 62-passenger vessel, a Lindblad Expedition cruise ship, idled in Alaska's Frederick Sound. Like kids at the circus, Will and his cousin Dagney, my nephew and niece, dashed back and forth across the deck, counting the whales: two close to Will, another four off the starboard bow and more in the distance. Gently rippling the water's glassy surface, the behemoths rose, blew long frothy breaths and with a final flip of enormous white-flecked flukes, dove out of sight.
Warmed by long sunny days, the Inland Passage's krill population explodes in summer, attracting hundreds of humpbacks — and in some places, nearly as many cruise ships. As long as the food lasts, the migrating whales, who haven't eaten in five months, patrol the Sound, following the food and putting on pounds for the return swim back to Hawaii.
"You don't have to whisper," said Jonathan, the ship's onboard naturalist, out on deck to take photos of his own. "The whales can't really hear us talk," he told us. "They can hear banging and engine noises. High-pitched whines, too. If there were five or six ships here, they might swim away."
Being alone is what wildlife watching is all about, especially in the hidden inlets of the Inside Passage, the interisland coastal route between Vancouver and the Gulf of Alaska. Come July, however, the main channel is awash in mega-ships.
And on shore? Disappointed travelers standing in line when they'd expected to see eagles, orcas and sea otters. Towering 3,000-passenger ships calling at ports so small that the sidewalks feel like Times Square. Floating hotels seemingly a mile high.
That's not my idea of wild country. I want to see the glaciers from a deck near the water, close enough to hear a fish jump. To kayak along the shoreline, looking for brown bears scratching up gravel in search of a meal. To snap photos of Bird Island, where sea lions haul out on the rocks. For me, being in the scene is what Alaska cruising is all about.
Fortunately, several expedition-style ships sail in the "silver triangle," the waterways roughly between Skagway in the north, Sitka in the west and Ketchikan in the south. A network of channels, bays and inlets protected by adjacent islands, the region teems with life.