The race is on. As our small skiff bobs and bounces its way across Thomas Bay (which has the unfortunate nickname of The Bay of Death) towards Baird Glacier, the mist slowly sinks into the valleys, turning the daylight into a daunting greyness. Not far from the Alaskan town of Petersburg and approaching the final inlet, the icy wind knives us in the face, the breeze off the glacier savagely chilling the air. Woollen hats are adjusted and jackets zipped up. Arriving at the glacier, our group of three intrepid travellers stood and watched not brave enough to wander too far for fear of being enveloped into the silvery fog. After all, the weather gods were in a mean mood.
While it appears a god-forsaken location, the weather in Alaska swings dramatically from the grim to the sublime. White-outs are quickly replaced by sparkling blue skies. Sunny weather on the tidewater Baird Glacier must change the mood of the place, highlighting the rearing dark mountains and the snaking ice river meandering its way to the so-called Bay of Death.