Navigating the Icy Giant: Hubbard Glacier & Russell Fjord
Exploring North America’s Largest Tidewater Glacier
Upon traveling into Yakutat Bay and rounding Ocean Cape from the outer coast, we were greeted by the beautiful, labyrinth-like Khantaak Island, with its deep inlets, shoals, and beaches, perfect for combing. Our first night, we found anchorage on the northern side of the island, tucked away in a sheltered inlet, protected from the restless swells of the outer coast. The name ‘Yakutat’ hails from the Tlingit language, meaning “the place where canoes rest”, a fitting homage to this haven once frequented by Native Alaskan groups as a vital waypoint for trade and travel along the rugged coastline. This region, with its natural bounty and sheltered bays and islands, provided sanctuary not just for the Tlingit, but also for European explorers who came later.
Snowcapped Mountains to the east of Yakutat Bay, Alaska
As we ventured further the next morning, we sailed northward toward Hubbard Glacier. Rounding Point Latouche, the bay transformed — the waves calmed, and the peaks of the St. Elias Range rose sharply into the sky, signaling our entrance into Disenchantment Bay. This bay was named by Alessandro Malaspina in 1792, who was hopeful the bay would lead to the legendary Northwest Passage. Upon realizing it was a closed inlet, he named it “Bahía del Desengaño,” which translates to “Bay of Disenchantment.”From miles away, we glimpsed the face of the colossal Hubbard Glacier, stretching 5 nautical miles across and over 76 miles down from its origins in the St. Elias Mountains. Haenke Island stood sentinel nearby, its rocky shores battered by ice flows and harboring a rookery of sea lions. We imagined sitting upon the island’s cliffs, watching the slow procession of icebergs as they drifted from the glacier’s mighty edge. Hubbard is but one of Disenchantment Bay’s icy titans, though none as magnificent, with glaciers like Turner, Haenke, and Miller contributing to this frozen kingdom.
Icebergs floating in Disenchantment Bay in front of hubbard glacier
Sea lion Rookery on Haenke Island
Seagull Rookery on Haenke Island
Icebergs calving from Hubbard Glacier
We witnessed the glacier calve with thunderous roars, its towering ice faces reflecting a spectrum of blues and turquoises. I’ve come to appreciate how each glacier has its own distinct character, and Hubbard's dark striations reminded me of geologic time — as though we were staring into the earth's ancient past, its stories locked in ice for millennia. Looking at the sheerly massive ice face, it was incredible to think of the journey those many layers of ice have taken over hundreds, if not thousands, of years.
Face of Hubbard Glacier with the St. Elias Mountains in the background
Face of Hubbard Glacier
Face of Hubbard Glacier
From the icy stronghold of Hubbard Glacier, we charted our course toward the secluded serenity of Russell Fjord. In June 2023 and May 2024, Louie successfully ventured through this fjord five times, learning the complexities of navigating between the glacier and Gilbert Point with each passage. Upon first hearing about the glacier, one of North America’s few advancing ice giants, he was intrigued at the prospect of exploration. Russell Fjord also has a history of fluctuating between open and closed, dependent on Hubbard’s relentless march. The idea of such a wilderness, its fate determined by ice, beckoned. In a conversation with our friend Nolan Davis — who frequently flies his Cessna over Yakutat — Louie requested a reconnaissance photo from the sky to assess if passage was possible for his upcoming trip to Yakutat last summer. After careful chart study and examining Nolan’s aerial photo, Louie made his decision: he had to see it up close.
Aerial view of Hubbard Glacier and Gilbert Point, entrance to Russel Fjord. Photo by Nolan Davis
On his first trip to the Hubbard Glacier, he approached the treacherous gap between the glacier and Gilbert Point at high tide, as registered by the nearest tidal gauge just south at Point Latouche. However, he quickly realized the fjord takes a considerable amount of time to both fill and drain, the cycle being much slower than anticipated. He found S/V Arcturus caught in the current, and turning back was not an option. With the throttle wide open, he pushed through, dodging bergy bits as ice calved from the glacier perilously close—some as close as 100 yards away. The GPS recorded their speed surging between 18-24 knots as they traveled the 500 ft-wide gap. Finally shooting through and emerging into deeper waters, they were met by the startled gaze of harbor seals who likely had never seen a vessel enter this terrain.
Hubbard Glacier and Gilbert Point, entrance to Russel Fjord
On my own journey through this passage with Louie, we anchored off Marble Point with a beautiful view of the glacier and Mount Cook towering over the horizon at 13,766 feet. The quiet solitude of Russell Fjord, with its undisturbed beauty and ancient landscapes, invited reflection on the enduring spirit of exploration that brought us here. The fjord’s deep waters and steep slopes, sculpted by the relentless advance and retreat of glaciers, tell a story of geologic transformation that’s impossible to ignore. Louie, ever the adventurer, could only dream of returning in winter for backcountry skiing—when snow still clings to the coast in May and June, uninterrupted by trees.On another voyage, Louie and his crew ventured deeper into Nunatak Fjord, discovering a glacial river fed by the untamed Nunatak River. With bold resolve, they rafted up its wild current—an exhilarating ride under the towering glaciers. Another expedition took them to the poorly charted southern waters of Russell Fjord, where they scouted the swift Beasley Creek by jet raft, its waters teeming with strainers but promising incredible wildlife sightings. Anchored at Marble Point that night, they found themselves in the midst of an unexpected ice parade, as calving bergs surrounded the boat in a surreal and frightening midnight spectacle.
S/V Arcturus with Hubbard Glacier in the background. Photo by David Leggitt
Vintage map of Disenchantment Bay and Russel Fjord, Circa 1928
Hubbard Glacier is notorious for its periodic surges, during which it advances rapidly, sometimes threatening to choke the entire 30-mile expanse of Russell Fjord with its icy bulk. Such surges have occurred multiple times, most famously in 1986 and 2002, when the glacier temporarily dammed Russell Fjord, forming a vast lake that swelled to alarming heights. During the 1986 surge, the bay sealed off in May, and for months the water levels climbed over 80 feet, endangering local ecosystems with dropping salinity. By October, the natural dam could no longer hold, and “around midnight on October 8, 1986, the dam began to give way. In the next 24 hours, an estimated 5.3 billion cubic meters of water gushed through the gap, and the fjord was reconnected to Disenchantment Bay, returning to its previous level” (Source: USGS). These dramatic events cast a spotlight on the volatile dance between glaciers and the changing climate, a testament to nature’s unpredictable power.
Hubbard Glacier as seen from Russel Fjord
When departing Russell Fjord, Louie positioned the boat near the other side of Gilbert Point, timing the exit with the low tide as registered by the Point Latouche tidal gauge. Concerned the tide might turn and lock them inside the fjord, he navigated carefully to avoid being trapped for another cycle. Leaving the fjord’s sheltered waters, the current initially seemed gentle, but as they ventured deeper, the flow intensified, as the water from Russel Fjord was still draining out. The GPS showed speeds up to 26 knots. Louie spent the next two voyages perfecting the timing, learning that the fjord's tides lagged about an hour and a half behind the readings at Point Latouche. He estimated the current between Hubbard Glacier and Gilbert Point exceeded 20 knots. The key to safe passage is waiting for a lull in the ice flow through the gap, keeping a sharp eye on the glacier for any signs of calving, as slack water only offered a fleeting 10-minute window. On one of the voyages I joined, this meant waking at 4:30 a.m. to hit the right tide.
Face of Hubbard Glacier with the St. Elias Mountains in the background
Hubbard Glacier as seen from S/V Arcturus
Face of Hubbard Glacier with the St. Elias Mountains in the background
Icebergs in Yakutat Bay leaving Disenchantment Bay
Louie’s key takeaway from his five daring voyages into Russell Fjord is simple but vital: any expedition into this glacial realm promises to be a wild and treacherous venture, where nature’s whims rule the day. The unpredictability of the tides, the relentless calving of the Hubbard Glacier, and the swirling currents make it a place for only the most prepared and daring seafarers. One thing is certain—no journey into Russell Fjord is without danger, nor without the thrill of untamed adventure.
Leaving the sheltered embrace of Disenchantment Bay and heading back to the open waters of the outer coast, we truly grasped the monumental scale of the Hubbard Glacier. As we passed a cruise ship, it seemed to vanish into the horizon, dwarfed by the glacier’s immense ice wall, which loomed above even the towering vessel. As we set sail for our next destination and onward along the outer coast to Icy Bay, the whispers of Yakutat’s icy giants and the serene fjord left an indelible mark on our hearts, a testament to the majesty of the natural world and the timeless allure of exploration.Adventures, Words & Photos by Lerina Winter & Captain Louis Hoock