Spending a full summer in Seward meant returning to the waters of Kenai Fjords National Park again and again. My work took me out by boat weekly, sometimes under low clouds and rain, other times beneath open blue skies. The fjords revealed themselves slowly over time. What stood out wasn’t any single trip, but how consistently life appeared... when I was paying attention.
Early in the season, one of the most striking encounters happened near Northwestern Glacier. The ride out that day was cold and overcast, the kind of weather that flattens the horizon and quiets conversation onboard. As we turned into the fjord, the sky opened to clear blue skies. As we sailed through the fjord, I couldn't take my eyes of the stunning blue water. As we got closer to the glacier, we could see tiny black dots on the floating ice chunks. When we got up close, we saw they were harbor seals, resting on broken ice, lifting their heads occasionally before settling back into stillness.
Later in the summer, after lunch on Fox Island, we were cruising toward Spire Cove when the captain slowed the boat. A humpback had surfaced in the distance. All the passengers lined the railing as we waited excitedly for him to pop back up. When the whale breached, it happened without warning—an enormous body lifting cleanly into the air before crashing back into the sea. The excitement onboard was immediate and shared. Even after weeks on the water, moments like that never felt routine.
Alaskan Wildlife
Another day, while heading back toward Seward, a pod of porpoises appeared alongside the boat. They moved fast, cutting through the wake, leaping in smooth arcs before disappearing just beneath the surface. They were impossible to photograph. Watching them keep pace with the boat was so spectacular. Their playfulness leaping through the water was such a joy to witness.
After a visit to Northwestern Glacier, a small family of orcas followed alongside us for several minutes. The captain pointed out a mother and her calf. Each time the mother surfaced, she released a soft wheeze, a sign of illness. It was difficult to watch, knowing something was wrong, and impossible not to be moved by the way they stayed close together, moving calmly through the water.
Sea lions were a regular presence throughout the summer. Entire colonies lined rocky shores. You could hear them before you saw them. Alaskan Sea Lions are larger than their California friends and have more of a Roar than the California barks.
Some of the quietest moments happened closer to town. Late summer evenings stretched toward 11 p.m., the light lingering long after sunset should have arrived. One night in Seward Harbor, I watched a sea otter float near the docks, asleep on his back. I sat and watched him nap for entirely too long before he woke up, washed his little tiny face, then dove down into the water and found dinner. It was so cute watching his little dinnertime routine
Birdlife threaded through all of it. Places like Emerald Cove were busy with nesting puffins, cormorants, and kittiwakes, their constant movement and sound filling the air along the cliffs. They were easy to overlook, but they were always there, tying the ecosystem together.
Kenai Fjords National ParkLandscape photos from around Kenai Fjords National Park in Alaska
What made that summer memorable wasn’t any single encounter—it was the repetition. Whether it was blue skies or pouring rain, wildlife appeared when it chose to. Seeing sea otters, seals, whales, and birds never lost its impact, no matter how many times I returned to the same waters.
The fjords don’t offer guarantees. They offer presence. And over the course of a summer, that was more than enough.
