We left Petersburg on Tuesday, after deciding to take a full day off to rest my upset stomach. After more than 3 months of paddling, our aches and pains are starting to add up, but they all seem to go away after a day or two off. As we paddled out of Petersburg we were really excited to be heading to Juneau, a little over 130 miles away, and our last rest stop before we reach Haines!
The theme of this leg of our journey turned out to be clouds. Each day we would watch clouds swirl and tear over the tops of mountains. In the mornings, we would set out inside the clouds themselves, barely able to make out the shoreline a mile or two away, dripping with cold, dense rain. As we paddled, the clouds above would start to pull apart, revealing ribbons of blue sky. Eventually, we would be paddling in bright sunshine, with steely grey and white clouds shrouding mountain ranges and closing off distant inlets and passages, but leaving us alone to enjoy the day.
The first day out was tough paddling for some reason. Neither of us felt strong, and the current ran against us in giant eddies that were difficult to see until you realized the shore stopped moving, and you had to start looking for edges. We paddled up to the point where we thought we would be able to sail across Frederick Sound to Farragut Bay, but the wind was neither blowing north nor south, so we picked a beach that had a place to pitch our tent and called it a day. The tides are low again, so it was really easy to find a beach with room to camp. We were both beat, and went to bed early, but Katey woke me up when she sat upright in the tent. She was apparently still asleep, because she didn’t answer me when I asked what she was doing, and she just laid back down, but I noticed that the tent was strangely light. It was 1:30 in the morning, but there was a glow that was casting shadows from the leaves and branches overhanging the front of the tent. I laid there for a while trying to figure out if it could be the moon, or maybe a really bright Aurora Borealis, but figured it had to be something else. It was strange to be miles from any town, and have a light shining on the tent. Eventually I decided to just stick my head out into the rain to see what it was rather than keep making up random explanations. I saw a large fishing boat just offshore with its deck lights shining out into the fog. It was only 100 yards from the tent, but I couldn’t hear its engines over the dripping rain. It freaked me out a little. We haven’t camped this entire Summer around other people, and it seemed strange to have someone passing that close to our tent in the middle of the night. I laid back down and watched the light slowly slide past and disappear in the fog bank.
On day two the fog and rain partially obscured our view of Farragut Bay. It was 7.5 miles to cross from our campsite, so we took a compass bearing in case we lost sight of land and headed out. The wind slowly started to blow and before long we were sailing along at 4 to 5 knots. The wind kept blowing all day. We sailed over to Farragut Bay, then down around Cape Fanshaw. We had planned to camp just past the Cape, but it was still early in the afternoon so we sailed on. From Cape Fanshaw we had to decide whether we wanted to sail across Stephens Passage from Five Fingers to the Brothers then to Admiralty Island, a distance of around 15 miles, or to continue up Stephens Passage. Admiralty Island has one of the largest brown bear populations in North America (1 grizzly per square mile), and a half mile portage at the end of Seymour Canal, but looked like it would be more protected water. Also, we had a good list of potential campsites and cabins along Admiralty. Stephens Passage would have fewer bears, and would have views of glaciers and icebergs. We opted for the possibility of fewer bears and better wind and continued up Stephens Passage.
After sailing for another hour or two I had to get out of the boat and we called it a day. We had sailed practically the entire day, and covered over 32 miles. We found a perfect sand beach with a tent site in the trees at Robert Islands. The whales were crazy all day, and as we setup camp they continued to breach and slap their tails on both sides of the island. We laid in the tent watching seals watching us just a few feet from shore, and humpback whales spouting all around.
The next day we woke up in a steady rain. Just as we finished packing our boats the rain picked up and as we paddled away with dozens of seals supervising, it looked like it would be a very long wet cold day. After only an hour, my feet and hands were freezing, but just as I started to think about stopping to put on more layers the clouds started to tear apart and stream sunlight to various islands and mountains around us. In another hour the rain had stopped and it was a beautiful sunny day. The wind from the previous day was gone, but we had a great day of paddling in the sunshine with dramatic views of clouds, mountains, and ocean.
As we approached Windham Bay we had to decide to paddle two miles across the bay, or stop on a beach before the bay. We turned into a beach to check out potential campsites, but it didn’t look too promising. As I wandered around on the logs, trying to find a patch of beach that wasn’t covered with boulders, I did the one thing I have tried to avoid since we started the trip: I lost my balance. I have worried more about falling off a log while hauling gear up and down the beach than crashing in the surf or bumping into bears. It could have been ugly. I fell about four feet off the log, landing on my arm and hip on the boulders. I wasn’t hurt more than a few bruises, but it reminded me how easy it could be to do something stupid and have to end our trip early. I decided I didn’t like that beach and we got back in the boats to find a more friendly campsite. On the other side of the bay we found a beach and tent site between a set of rock outcroppings. We setup camp in time to enjoy the start of a sunset and fall asleep by 8:30.
The next day we started again in the rain. The clouds and rain passing over the mountain peaks that line Stephens Passage threatened us throughout the day. We passed from cold to hot when the sun broke through the seams. Each time the wind blew up waves or the rain
passed over we fretted over whether or not to put on our dry jackets, but then the wind would stop and we would start to heat up as we had to paddle.
passed over we fretted over whether or not to put on our dry jackets, but then the wind would stop and we would start to heat up as we had to paddle.
The miles ticked off slowly, and as we approached Holkham Bay we decided we had had enough for the day. We turned into the bay to head to a small islet behind Harbor Island. The view of Sumdum Glacier at the entrance to Endicott Arm was spectacular, and a fleet of icebergs were floating out the bay. When we got to the islet we found a nice clamshell beach with plenty of room for our tent. We setup camp and explored the island.
At low tide the island would connect to Harbor Island, but for now we were able to let Lil’ Bit run freely without worrying about him getting too far or in too much trouble. We made dinner in the rain, and went to sleep with the sound of rain on the ocean.
It was getting a little repetitive, but we started paddling the next morning again in the rain, with only limited views of the shoreline across the bay. We paddled for a point that would appear and disappear in the fog, and by the time we reached the point the sun was out once again.
We couldn’t believe our luck with the weather. It was cold and rainy, but also warm and sunny. We could have used some wind to push us closer to Juneau, but it refused to blow. We paddled along a rocky and wild shoreline, with tiny convoluted bays, rock formations the size of office buildings, and small streams and waterfalls that carved permanent paths through the smooth rock faces. It was beautiful scenery, but slow paddling. After almost 8 hours we had gone only 17 miles, and once again we had to decide to continue across an inlet (Port Snettishan), or camp on a beach before the crossing. It was only a little over 3 miles across, but it was hard to tell what the shoreline would be like, so we opted to stop.
We found a long stone beach that had a great tent site at one end. We pulled in and looked around for bear sign. We found some old scat and old tracks, but decided it was good enough. We unloaded the boats, placing our kitchen 50 or so yards down the beach. After we had our camp setup and Katey started making dinner, I walked down the beach looking for a place to hang our food bags for the night. As I walked along I took a closer look at the imprints in the sand and realized that there were actually a lot of grizzly tracks, including tracks from a cub and adult. They were really faded into the sand, but it occurred to me that the tracks could be just a day or two old with all the heavy rain we were having. I hadn’t thought about that earlier, but there wasn’t anything we could do now, and I figured pretty much every beach on the mainland would have bears. It’s not that big of deal, but we definitely prefer to camp on the small islands off shore when possible.
We woke up early the next morning and to our surprise it wasn’t raining. We figured we had 2 more days to Juneau and were starting to get excited to reach our second to last town of the trip.
We paddled across Port Snettishan and as we reached the other side the wi
nd started to blow. Within a few minutes it was blowing hard enough to sail, and within an hour we were sailing along at 5 knots. I kept doing the math in my head. We had a little over 28 miles to get to Juneau, and it was only 11:00 AM. If we could average 4 knots, we could make town by 6 PM. It seems every time we start to believe we’re going to be able to sail all day, the wind turns or dies, so I didn’t want to get too excited, but by the time we reached Grand Island I was pretty sure we could make it. When we got to the end of the island the water flattened and the wind actually picked up. We started skipping across the water at over 7 knots. We reached Arden point before 2:00 PM, and had just 13 miles to go. We averaged 5 knots for the last 3 hours. We pulled into a beach right around the point to get out of the boats and warm up our feet and hands. As we stood on the beach watching the water race by the point it seemed like the wind would have to keep blowing right up Gastineau Channel to take us to Juneau.
nd started to blow. Within a few minutes it was blowing hard enough to sail, and within an hour we were sailing along at 5 knots. I kept doing the math in my head. We had a little over 28 miles to get to Juneau, and it was only 11:00 AM. If we could average 4 knots, we could make town by 6 PM. It seems every time we start to believe we’re going to be able to sail all day, the wind turns or dies, so I didn’t want to get too excited, but by the time we reached Grand Island I was pretty sure we could make it. When we got to the end of the island the water flattened and the wind actually picked up. We started skipping across the water at over 7 knots. We reached Arden point before 2:00 PM, and had just 13 miles to go. We averaged 5 knots for the last 3 hours. We pulled into a beach right around the point to get out of the boats and warm up our feet and hands. As we stood on the beach watching the water race by the point it seemed like the wind would have to keep blowing right up Gastineau Channel to take us to Juneau.
After a short break we got back in our boats and paddled out into the wind. We took off for Juneau, but after just a short time the wind got confused. There was wind blowing from the west side of Stephens Passage, the wind we were riding from the south side of Stephens Passage, and a wind blowing south out of Gastineau Channel. Crud. Our sailing came to an end just as we entered the channel, and we headed to the shore of Douglas Island to paddle the remaining 9 or so miles to town. The paddling was good, and made us feel like we were earning the food we knew we would cram down our throats as soon as we landed in town. We tied up the boats around 6:30 and were sitting in a pub eating pizza with friends by 7:30.
We plan to take two days off in town, then start out for Haines on Wednesday, weather permitting. It should be around 90 miles to Haines, and take us less than a week.
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