The long road to Alaska, a story of letting go and discovering - Seward and the Kenai Fjords

We had heard that the captain hadn't seen any humpback whales the previous day, but that a group of orcas at the end of the trip had made up for it. Today, however, we got off to a good start: a sea otter glided by, and shortly afterwards, the first orcas appeared. They came close to the boat, their dorsal fins sharply outlined against the horizon. We watched them breathe, dive and resurface, moving in perfect harmony with the sea.

Further on, a large group of sea lions were lying on the rocks. They were lazy and noisy. The sun broke cautiously through the cloud cover, making the water glisten. It was as if the fjords were awakening and opening. We approached the Aialik Glacier, a monumental wall of ice with a terminus that was the largest we had seen thus far. Seals were lying with their young on the floating ice floes and puffins, gulls and terns were circling in the air.

The captain pointed to a group of birds on the water. 'They're sitting on a meatball,' he said, referring to a school of small fish that had formed into a ball. Whales can spot them from far away, and sometimes they break right through them. Then it happened: the captain spotted a humpback whale sleeping in the distance. It barely moved. We approached cautiously and, when it woke up, it slowly dived underwater. Its tail rose as if to say goodbye.

A moment later, I held my breath. We finally saw a whale breach! Thirty times. Each jump was met with breathless silence. Its power and elegance, and the repetition of the jumps, made it seem like a dance. It was as if the whale wanted to tell us something. We listened. And we watched. In awe.

Exit Glacier – a final walk beneath the ice 

After an intense day on the water, we decided to relax. The sun was shining again, so we walked to Exit Glacier, one of Alaska's most accessible glaciers. However, we were still tired from the boat trip, and to make matters worse, a mosquito had bitten me during the night. My eye was swollen, and the antihistamine only made me sleepier.

We had originally planned to hike to the Harding Icefield, a long, steep trek that takes you above the glacier plateau. But we could feel it: today was not the day for altitude and exertion. Instead, we spent some time at the terminus of the glacier, where the ice is slowly melting and retreating. The air was fresh, the path easily passable and the silence impressive. We had a picnic at the edge of the ice, overlooking the blue mass that once stretched much further.

It started to rain softly but steadily just after lunch. We took shelter in the Alaska SeaLife Centre, a modern museum with interactive exhibits about marine life. We touched starfish, learnt about sea anemones and immersed ourselves in the aftermath of the Exxon Valdez disaster. The stories of oil pollution, recovery and ecology provided a new perspective on what we had seen outside. Alaska's beauty is fragile and must be cherished.

In the evening, we enjoyed perfectly grilled Copper River salmon. The flavour was intense, and the texture was buttery and soft. It was a fitting end to a day that had begun with glacier ice and ended with the sea.

Departure from Seward – farewell to the water

On our last morning in Seward, sunlight shone on the bay and the air was filled with the scent of seaweed. We strolled along the waterfront one last time. Jellyfish were scattered across the beach, while seagulls sounded their morning call. None of us spoke, because no one wanted to acknowledge the truth: our trip through Alaska was coming to an end.

But now it was time to leave. We drove away from Miller's Landing along a bumpy road beside Resurrection Bay. The fjords were behind us and the sea was calm. It felt like a farewell to the water, the ice and the animals that had allowed us to observe them. But it also felt like a transition: back to the interior, to grass under our feet and the scent of pine trees. Would we ever come back here? I still dream about it.