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Hubbard Glacier: It Creaked, It Groaned & Then…Boom!

2/20/2025

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In July 2025, Debra and I embarked on a grand voyage along the coast of Alaska, a two-week cruise aboard Crystal Serenity. We sailed from Vancouver to Seward and back, with port stops in Ketchikan, Juneau, Skagway, Sitka, and Icy Strait Point, with a transit through the wild landscape of Hubbard Glacier. We had the time of our lives!

Click HERE to read a short introduction to our voyage.

This story, part of a series, is about our second scenic cruise through Disenchantment Bay, where we witnessed a calving event on Hubbard Glacier.

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Hubbard Glacier, Alaska (July 17, 2024) It seemed like just yesterday when Debra and I sailed past Hubbard Glacier on a scenic cruise through Disenchantment Bay…but, of course, I was wrong.
It was two days ago. (Wink wink) But what a difference 48 hours made!


Two days ago, the weather here was dreary. The temperature was in the mid-50s, but a breeze made it feel colder. And the sky? It was overcast—a blanket of dull, gray clouds that stretched to the horizon. Worse, though, were the low-hanging clouds that obscured the top of Mount Hubbard—at nearly 15,000 feet tall, it’s the eighth-tallest peak in the United States.
 
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“Hon, it’s a shame you can’t see the top of that mountain, as Jill and I did last year,” I said to Debra. “Snow covered and with its height, it was truly majestic.”

FORTUNATELY, there was no rain, and we had a clear view of the face of the glacier—sometimes referred to as the ‘snout’—which rose about 350 feet above the surface of the water, and a couple miles of the main glacier mass.


On this day, though, the weather was picture-perfect. The temperature was in the low 60s, there was nary a breeze, and the sky was partly sunny—a lovely mix of blue sky and white clouds—and we had an unobstructed view of Mount Hubbard.

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It was a sight to behold—a MAGNIFICENT scene with the simmering waters of Resurrection Bay in the foreground, snow-covered Mount Hubbard in the background, and the blue ice of Hubbard Glacier between the two! It’s hard to see from this photo but trust me on this: The blue ice appeared to sparkle and shimmer, much as a diamond might when it interacted with light.

Hubbard Glacier is massive, and while it’s not the biggest glacier in the world—Lambert Glacier in East Antarctica is—it is the longest tidewater glacier in North America, stretching more than 76 miles southeastward from


Now, that’s an incredible journey!


This past January, I traded in my phone for the Galaxy S24 Ultra to upgrade my photo-taking capabilities. I liked the optical zoom but LOVED the digital zoom with its higher magnification and great image quality. Here’s a few pics of the face of Hubbard Glacier with the digital zoom.

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A word about blue ice: It’s not really blue but rather appears blue in color because shorter wavelengths (blue) reflect off very dense ice while longer wavelengths (red and yellow, for example) are absorbed by the ice. Beautiful, ain’t it?!

There was something that Debra and I missed seeing the other day. If I show you a photo, can you guess what this ‘something’ was?

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As we sailed towards the glacier this day, the Serenity passed this chunk of ice, which had broken free from the face of Hubbard Glacier through a process called ‘calving’—the result of stress, pressure, and cracks in the glacial ice. Calving might be slow…or sudden, and the sound can range from a creak and groan to an explosive boom.

So, now you know the answer to my question: A couple of days back, Debra and I did not witness calving.


In my story about that day, I wrote, “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to see this glacier calve…and hear the thunderous boom! Well, perhaps another time.”


Well, this day WAS ‘another time.’

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It happened suddenly…so sudden, in fact, that I have only one photo to share with you—a photo that shows the massive splash that sent water and ice fragments flying in all directions.  (Follow the arrow, as it points the way).

In the seconds before I turned and snapped this pic, I heard a sound—I must tell you that my listening was deliberate, as Hubbard Glacier is known for its frequent and impressive calving activity—and it was the sound that tipped me off. Creak, groan, BOOM! was what I heard, all in rapid succession. 

I was too slow to see the chunk of ice break off, still…
I WAS STOKED!
It was a breathtaking moment for Debra and me—a moment, I know, we will not soon forget.   

For many travelers, seeing Hubbard Glacier is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I’ve been fortunate, I feel, as this was the third time I’ve visited this colossal glacier, and every time, I’ve been humbled by its magnificence—its sheer size, vibrant blue hues, and its raw power. I hope to visit again one day. 
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