These are pictures from the day we walked across the frozen Mendenhall Lake to see the glacier closer up. It was quite surreal making our way across the smooth ice to the jagged blue wall ahead.
The lake was almost entirely deserted that afternoon except for us, and the awe of the thing hung uninterrupted. Well, uninterrupted save by Grandma's periodic inquiries as to if we had made it close enough to the glacier to turn back as she fretted about the remote possibility of the glacier calving and throwing us into the freezing water inches, maybe feet, below. And Grandpa's reply that no, we were no close enough and even if the glacier did decide to calve right then the resulting cracking and shaking would not be enough to open up holes big enough to swallow us.
So we made our way, one peaceably, one determinedly, and one reluctantly, closer and closer to the glacier's face. Sometimes almost sliding across the glassy ice, admiring the marks the skaters had carved earlier in the day, and sometimes crunching across the tiny crystals that had grown up in little patches here and there. The broken crystals made a faintly musical tinkling as they were knocked against each other by our boots.
When Grandpa finally deemed that we had gone close enough we stood and wondered at it for a while before turning about and making our way back to the car.
