Watch — and feel — calving glaciers splash into lake at this Kachemak Bay campsite

HALIBUT COVE —The loud rollicking warble of a ruby-crowned kinglet momentarily distracted us. The tiny red-capped songbird delivers a sound far exceeding its body size, and this one was no exception — briefly breaking into song while drinking in the same sights we'd lost ourselves in before flittering away.

My group had camped between jagged, snowcapped mountains on the cobbled shoreline of Grewingk Lake — a silty, cryogenically-cold lake created by the Grewingk Glacier. The splaying, creviced terminus could be seen in the distance, a wall of blue-white ice that rose from the head of the lake and mesmerized us with nearly continuous calving.

My daughter, wife, mother in-law and father in-law watched cabin-sized blocks of frozen water splash into the lake as they very slowly succumbed to gravity. Seconds later we would hear a thunderous rumble as the sound reached our location.

My mind tried to comprehend how this scenic splendor was so accessible, even though it provided a sense of remote isolation.

Nature the rejuvenator

Located in the Halibut Cove area of Kachemak Bay State Park, across from Homer, Grewingk is not your average day hike. Unlike Exit Glacier in Seward, which is road accessible and easy to see after a brief half-mile jaunt, Grewingk takes a little more planning. To begin with, you have to take a boat to get there.

For those like us who lack their own watercraft, there are a number of water taxis that can be hired and which launch from the harbor in Homer Spit.

After eight choppy miles, we reached the far side of the bay and a small spit of land hiding marshy Rusty's Lagoon, near where the Grewingk Glacier hike begins.

This location is open to the wind and weather, particularly in the afternoon, the time of day we arrived. Our taxi driver pulled close to shore, but ultimately declared, "You'll just have to jump from here," as he did his best to idle a few feet from the sandy beach littered with bull kelp and other marine detritus.

After a dreary winter for the Alaskans among us and a long, uncomfortable flight from the Lower 48 for my in-laws, we were ready for some outdoor adventure and the revitalization that comes with retreating into the wilderness. We just didn't expect the unexpected to start before we even donned our backpacks or set one foot on the trail. I liked it. This early challenge got everyone's heart pounding and made us feel alive.

Nature the healer

Despite some wide eyes from my 67-year-old mother in-law — with good reason, since she had knee-replacement surgery three months earlier — we threw our packs ashore and then took the leap of faith, landing without injury.

Fortunately, the 3.2-mile Grewingk Glacier hike is almost easy enough to be considered wheelchair accessible. Even my 3-year-old hiked the entire way without complaint.

There was virtually no elevation gain as we wandered through a thick understory of Devil's club, currant and other bushy plants, as well as tall stands of spruce, cottonwood and alder.

We sidestepped huge patties of bear scat the entire way. These signs of wildlife kept our blood pumping and demanded a keen sense of awareness for the woods around. We were forced to take notice of all the interesting little things that can so easily be overlooked: sap dribbling down a tree from where bear claws raked the bark, a spider web glistening gold in the afternoon light, the varying shades of verdant green that swallowed us completely and in a way you forget can happen during Alaska's monochromatic months.

[Arctic Valley offers accessible, awesome hiking]

Those who enjoy a more arduous trip can take an alternate route to the lake. Saddle Trail — accessible from a stamp-sized bay in Halibut Cove — is one-mile long but thigh-burningly steep, gaining roughly 400 feet of elevation in the first quarter-mile. Off this route there is the even-more-difficult Alpine Ridge Trail, offering a strenuous 2,220 feet of elevation gain over 2.7 miles overlooking Grewingk Lake.

There is also a Grewingk Tram Spur Trail, which branches off the Grewingk Lake Trail roughly halfway to the lake. It leads to a hand-operated cable tram — installed 15 years ago by Soldotna's Kelly Keating and several others — over Grewingk Creek before connecting into the Emerald Lake Loop Trail. That leads to the Blue Ice Trail, which after 6.7 miles (cumulatively for all three trails) ends at the glacier itself.

We took the direct route. After a few hours of family time on the trail, appreciating the intimate conversations that come with getting away from work, cellphones and all the other distractions of the modern world, we reached our destination.

Even with 20 to 30 pounds of camping gear and food on each of our backs, we all agreed the hike felt more like good honest exercise than an adventure in masochism that sometimes come with trekking to such a rewardingly panoramic locale. The trail ended at the most idyllic place to camp — an open beach, the outwash plain of the glacier on the far side of the lake.

Nature the teacher

"It looks like a beluga, daddy," my daughter said of one of the hundreds of floating white icebergs in the lake.

After setting up our tent in a clearing amid dwarf fireweed and other wildflowers, we unfurled our sleeping pads and bags, and then wandered down to the shoreline for dinner.

While waiting for water to boil on our hissing camp stove, we took turns sharing what we each saw in the hundreds of chunks of frozen debris cast off from the glacier. They varied in size from fresh, jagged pieces as large as an RV to smaller delicate ice bits not much larger than a snowball and polished smooth and clear as crystal from time spent in long days of summer sun.

We watched them for hours, sometimes in silent contemplation bordering on meditation. Intently in tune with our surroundings, nothing escaped our senses.

Behind us, rustling brush alerted us to a young bull moose nibbling on saplings. Closer to shore, we could hear the soft splashing of a killdeer wading in the water, while farther out the shrieks of hundreds of nestling gulls echoed. We sat in awe as a large eagle swooped by, perhaps looking to make a meal of one of its lesser kin.

When we first arrived we assumed it took days to melt the icebergs filling our field of view, but quickly we realized it actually transpired over the course of hours. Before our eyes, we watched them change shape in the warm air and some snap into smaller pieces, giving off a splash each time and then rolling until they found their new equilibrium.

I've spent enough time in the woods to know that beyond delight, there is often enlightenment, and so it was with mixed emotions that I explained to my daughter how glaciers work. No doubt it was an educational moment and I enjoyed teaching her "from" the environment, rather than reading "about" the environment in a book or website. She witnessed a natural wonder that few get to see.

Furthermore, regardless of how political the concept of what is causing climate change has become in this country, we can all agree the planet is getting warmer. I am uncertain if my daughter will be able to one day take her own kids or grandkids to see a glacier.

All I can do is educate her about the natural world and the problems facing it, and hope that she and enough of her generation are inspired to do their parts when passed the planetary torch.

Until then, in the here and now, I savored the moments with my family at Grewingk Glacier and tried not to dwell on the idea that the very thing that brought us there — something young and old alike could enjoy — might be as fleeting as a kinglet's song.

Joseph Robertia is a freelance writer living in Kasilof with his wife, Colleen, and daughter, Lynx.

Guided Grewingk hike

• When
• : 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 6, departing from Homer Harbor
• What
• : Hiking the 5-mile Glacier Spit-Glacier Lake-Saddle Trail
• Who
• : One or two groups of six
• Sponsor
• : Kachemak Bay State Park
• Cost
• : $60 transportation fee
• Register
• : Limited space, advance registration required. Call 907-226-4689, or email 
• kbayvolunteer@gmail.com
• by July 30.

Coming Sunday in We Alaskans

U.S. Geological Survey scientist Bruce Molnia has been photographing Alaska glaciers since 1968 and has compiled a database of nearly 5,000 historical images of glaciers. That allows him to make precise then-and-now comparisons. The results are shocking. In We Alaskans magazine.