Kayaking the Inside Passage from Seattle to Haines in 2010

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I Guess Summer is Really Over

Nov03
2010 Leave a Comment Written by Doug

Wow, it’s hard to believe that we finished our trip two months ago. After landing in Haines we went up to Fairbanks to collect our stuff and get Katey’s cabin ready to rent. Then we went to Anchorage to collect more stuff and see friends. And then we started to drive south.

We didn’t want to leave Alaska, but we didn’t want to live in Anchorage or Fairbanks, and the rest of the choices just didn’t work for jobs. We spent over a week driving 3600 miles to Marquette, Michigan, where we thought we might want to live. We wanted to find a small town where we could still do all our hobbies (mountain biking, kayaking, snowboarding, sailing, playing hockey, fishing, bike touring, hiking, eating, etc.), and Marquette seemed pretty ideal. Katey started the process to get her nursing license and apply for jobs, while we explored the mountain bike trails every day. On the drive down we passed through the edge of Winter, with frost on our tent and snow in the passes, but Marquette was having an extended Summer. It was great to ride a bike again, and doubly great to ride in the sun and 60 degree weather in September.

After talking to the hospitals in the area, it didn’t seem likely that Katey would get the job she wanted, and she would have a two month wait to get her license, so we decided to check out Grand Rapids. Despite the poor economy, Grand Rapids has become a mecca for health care and medical research, and the city and downtown neighborhoods are really cool. It is a much bigger city than we expected to live in, but it has most of what we were looking for and lots of job prospects.  We found a place to live, unpacked, and started to look for work.

It’s sad that the Summer is over, but life moves on. Once we were settled and got Internet access we sorted through our 3000 pictures to create a slideshow of our trip. You can click on any picture to view it full size on Picassa. Enjoy!



Posted in Trip Log

We Made It!

Aug30
2010 Leave a Comment Written by Doug
Leaving Auke Bay we paddled into a herd of whale watching boats.  We saw a pod of killer whales in the distance come around a point chased by a giant white whale of a boat.  It was almost comical to see the sleek, black, finned backs of the pod of whales contrasted by the lumbering boat that desperately chased them like an annoying little sibling.  We stopped at one point to check out the show where humpbacks, killer whales, and sea lions were churning the water.  At one point sea lions surfaced right next to my boat and then a couple humpbacks broke and surfaced as if they were vying for the same fish.  It was incredible, the humpbacks were rolling over each other just 100 feet from our boats and coming our way.  I was unconcerned until I heard the unmistakable sound of blow-spouts on the other side of my boat and looked to see a whole pod of killer whales only 50 feet away.  That’s when I realized if we were bowled over by the humpbacks Lil’ Bit, Doug, and I would be flailing in the water with a pack of sea lions and pod of killer whales.  I started paddling and we got out of there, leaving the whales at a more comfortable distance.

As we came into Lynn Canal it really started to feel like our trip was on its last leg and it was beautiful.  Maybe I’m just being sentimental, but the last three days of our trip were some of the most dramatic scenery we’ve seen.  The mountains grow straight up from the ocean cresting in jagged snow capped peaks their valleys laden with yawning glacier tongues that lap at the sea.  Islands dot the coasts and leave plenty to explore while sunsets turn the mountain tops pink.  We came into Haines on Saturday still not fully prepared to be done with this trip, it feels surreal to be done like there’s no way we just spent the last three and a half months paddling the inside passage.  I guess it’s time to start real life again…We were met on the docks by my parents and Lori Stepansky the director of tourism for Haines.  It was a good welcoming committee and the Captains Choice Hotel generously gave us two nights of comfortable sleep and hot showers for a token fee.
Thank you all for your support this trip has been a real success!  So far we have raised over $1,500 for Interplast and even more awareness of the important work that they do.  I will post the total amount raised in a couple weeks when all the donations are in.  I will then do the drawing for the Steri-Pen and Mountain House prizes.  Thanks so much all the support has been amazing and has meant so much to me and Doug.
Woohoo!!  Haines!!
Posted in Trip Log

Juneau to Haines

Aug29
2010 1 Comment Written by Doug
After a 2 day break in Juneau, we had just 85 miles until the end of our trip. We were excited to get to Haines, but not really in a hurry to end our adventure. Our goal had been to get to Haines by September 1, but for the last month we pretty much assumed we would be a little late.

We paddled north out of Juneau, to go through the narrow channel on the north end of Douglas Island. In order to make it across the drying channel we had to catch the flood tide. We left at 10:00 AM, and rode the current all the way to the top of the reach. Just as we started to run out of water, we met the tide flooding in from the other end of the island. We tried to line our boats through the shallow water against the fast flowing water, but ended up just pulling up on a sand bar to wait awhile for the current to slow down. After eating some lunch, we got back in the boats and paddled against the slowing current, toward Auke Bay. By the time we reached Auke Bay it was already 5:00 PM, and we weren’t sure where we would find to camp around all the big houses, so we headed to the marina to see if we could find one more burger and a place to stay. As we entered the marina we found the strangest “boat” of our trip tied to the dock. Notice the cannon mounted on the front.

When we left Auke Bay the next morning we paddled past islands with beautiful beaches where we could have camped the night before, but then we would have missed the giant breakfast we found in town.
We paddled out of Auke Bay thinking it might rain, but the clouds quickly parted and before we knew it we were roasting in the sunshine and slathering on suntan lotion.

As we approached Bird Island, we ran into a crowd of whale watching boats and tour boats. A large group of humpback whales and killer whales were having a feeding frenzy. We had seen a lot of whales all Summer, but we hadn’t seen killer whales and humpback whales in one place. We floated among the boats watching and waiting for the whales to move out of our way. At one point, a pair of sea lions got into a skirmish with a couple of humpback whales 50 yards away. As I started to get worried about the flailing and splashing that was moving toward us, a pod of killer whales surfaced just 10 yards on the other side of Katey. It was crazy. We decided to leave the circus and paddle on to Benjamin Island. We found a beach with a great campsite in the trees on the south end of the island. We setup camp and crashed early after a long day in the sunshine.

On our third day the forecast was for south winds of 15 knots and we had visions of sailing over half of the 52 miles remaining to Haines. We put up our sails and sat back to watch the scenery.

The wind wasn’t strong, but we were able to sail at 3 to 4 knots for the first few hours. As we crossed Berner’s Bay, the wind picked up, but then when we reached the other side it disappeared. We paddled on for a couple hours, but the waves left over from the wind made for a bumpy ride and we decided to stop after about 20 miles. We pulled up on what looked like a nice stone beach and found a good tent site behind a stump.

The next morning I enjoyed the sunrise and whales feeding as I made coffee.

We had coffee time and Pop Tarts in the tent while Lil’ Bit wished he could be playing ball on the beach.

When we got ready to head out we realized the beach we choose was a mess at low tide. The water was cloudy with glacial silt, so we couldn’t see how far the stones went down the beach when we landed, but at low tide the beach was covered with basketball-sized rocks and slippery tide pools. We had over a hundred yards of slipping and sliding to carry our boats and all our gear to the water.

 By the time we got the boats loaded we had a good breeze blowing toward Haines, and we were able to start sailing right from the start. We sailed smoothly at 4 knots for the first 8 miles, but then the wind ratcheted up, and the waves started to crest.

Before long we were getting pushed around and it was clear we had too much sail. We headed to the closest point and tried to tuck into the rocks to drop our sails. Once our sails were down we were able to paddle along at 4 knots. We headed across a long bay and landed on the first good beach we could find to decide whether to continue on. We landed easily in pretty big surf, and ate some lunch.

The waves out in the middle of the canal were definitely building, but the wind was holding around 20 knots. Eventually we decided to reef our sails all the way down and continue on. We had to sail across the canal to a set of islands, then head along the western shore to Haines. With what seemed like tiny sails, we raced across the canal at 6 to 7 knots. We got swamped a couple times by waves that were 3 to 4 feet. When we reached the other side of the canal the wind kept blowing but the water flattened a little. We sailed on averaging 6 knots for the next 3 hours. Holy cow! We were going to make it to Haines easily! We rounded Battery Point and cruised the last few miles into the Haines marina. And just like that our trip was over.

It was a little sad but also sweet. No more camping in wild places, no more water-logged hands; no more whales, no more wet socks and feet; no more spectacular watery mountain vistas, no more lugging our boats and gear up and down the beaches. We spent most of the Summer camping in places few people see up close, and we had beautiful sunshine, warm weather, little rain, few flies, lots of wildlife, and plenty of time to rest when we needed it. It was as close to perfect as we could hope for from the BC and SE Alaska coast.
We’ll head from here to Fairbanks (a 16 hour drive) to organize our stuff and figure out what is next. This is the last play-by-play post of our trip, but I’ll finally have access to my iMac where I can better organize our photos and videos, and will post some highlights of the trip over the next few weeks. 
Posted in Trip Log

Seal Beach and Sailing to Juneau

Aug24
2010 2 Comments Written by Doug

As we approached the island beach at the end of a thirty mile day we aimed for the clear section just to the left of a large patch of rocks. But as we got closer the rocks began to move. Hundreds of seals lifted their heads on chubby necks and began to take notice as my kayak skidded onto the beach only twenty feet away. The nearer seals threw themselves down the beach at what would have been a breakneck pace had it not been for the fact they had to worm crawl and throw their massive bodies with appendages woefully ill designed for land. It was like watching a synchronized swimming routine as each seal was consecutively awoken by their neighbor heaving themselves into the ocean. The pups were slower, unable to throw their little sausage bodies quite as far in their worm crawl, but they weren’t near as slow as the heavy sleepers that awoke alone on the beach confused untill they saw me pulling myself from my kayak and desperately made their break down the beach. The seals now comfortable in their environment bobbed just off shore, hundreds of heads peeking out of the water as if timidly saying, “Hey, are you guys staying here? ‘Cause this is kind of our beach.” We found a perfect campsite in the trees above the beach that had a view of both sides of the island and the ocean that encircled it. The seals watched us closely unpack and move into the trees.

This morning we were awoken by a thudding that sounded like kayaks floating away. I got out of the tent and looked down to see our kayaks right where we left them surrounded by seals and humpback whales chucking themselves into the air just off the island, their bodies thudding as they re-entered the water in belly flop fashion. As Doug and I began moving around camp the seals hearing us once again became wary and have begun to send reconnaissance seals that swim over stare strait at our tent, their heads bobbing in the waves, then swim away.

Bobbing seal heads watch us leave “seal beach” as birds fly over head

Sailing to Juneau

On our last day into Juneau we had wind. It started slowly in the morning just light enough to lift the stray hairs that curled out of my dry top hood, but as we paddled on, the flat water started to ripple and we put up our sails. By 10 o’clock it was a steady 15 knots pushing at our backs and filling out our sails as if willing us to Juneau. By 11 o’clock it was a steady 20 knots straining in our sails coaxing us into surfing down waves. By noon it had risen to 25 knots ripping at our sails, pulling my curly wisps of hair strait, and tossing us into the waves like a bucking bronco. As we rounded Grand Island just before crossing the last stretch of Stephens Passage the wind still ripped at our sails but the waves that had been building on the large open passage before the island broke on it’s face leaving flat water in it’s lee. These were ideal sailing conditions. With a steady 25 knot wind and no wave troughs to slam through and steal our momentum we quickly sped to 7 – 8 knots, a speed that is respectable in a full-size sailboat. It was the best sailing we’ve had yet! We were excited about the prospect of sailing all the way to Juneau feeling almost like we deserved this windfall, but as always the moment you feel entitled to something is usually when it is taken away. And just before entering Gastineau Channel, where three other channels collide, their winds met, shook hands, and died leaving our sails limp and listlessly swaying in the calm air. We paddled the last ten miles to Juneau making a total of 32 miles for the day.

Doug wet and cold but not miserable

Beautiful clouds, good winds, and refreshing water.  We took this picture to thank Steri-Pen for their donation to our raffle.

Regal Lil’ Bit

Me sitting on the rocks at one amazing campsite with a 260 degree view of dramatic rock outcroppings and island groupings just off shore. 
Posted in Trip Log

Petersburg to Juneau

Aug24
2010 Leave a Comment Written by Doug
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. 
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.
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.
Posted in Trip Log

Leaving Wrangell

Aug16
2010 Leave a Comment Written by Doug

Leaving Wrangell we were met with a gorgeous day, bright blue sky, and smooth mirror like water. As we crossed the opening of the Stakine river that flows into the ocean just outside of town a stark line zigzagged through the water. On one side the water was the deep steely blue of ocean the other was the thick, muddy, brown of the Stikine. It looked like the god of fuddle-fingers had dropped the worlds largest chocolate ensure and it was spilling out the mouth of the Stikine. Surrounded by mountains that night we watched the sun nestle in and darken the sky to stars, we left the fly off our tent and caught glimpses of the meteor shower that streaked the sky through the night.

Posted in Trip Log

Wrangell to Petersburg

Aug16
2010 Leave a Comment Written by Doug
We left our stop in Wrangell after two days, but we actually had 9 miles of paddling just to reach downtown. The forecast was for a high pressure system to move in for the rest of the week, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but by the time we started paddling, there was already a northwest wind blowing in our face. If the wind picked up, we would be lucky to make it the 9 miles to town.  

Fortunately, shortly after we started the wind dropped to a breeze. We were sore from the long day we put in to get to Wrangell, so we plodded the 9 miles to town and stopped for lunch. After eating we got back on the water to see how far we would get. We paddled and paddled hoping to make it to a forest service cabin on Little Dry Island, but we started running into the outflow of the Stikine river and decided to follow the current around the back side of Rynda Island. We ended up making a great tent site at the top of a short beach where we could enjoy an amazing sunset. We left the fly off the tent and in the middle of the night we also got a show from the meteor shower.
We woke up to another blue sky day, and started paddling by 7 AM, hoping to make a campsite before the wind picked up. We rode the current down to and into Dry Strait, but the wind started to pick up and the current turned before we left the strait. We ended up pushing really hard to get over to shore where we thought we might be able to hide from the wind that quickly built to over 20 knots. When we got into the shelter of the shore we took a short break. There was a small nook between the logs that was above the tide line, where we would be able to pitch the tent if we had to, but after a little while we thought we should push on and see if we could make it around the point. We kept paddling into the wind. It was rough, and hard, but it was  also sunny and warm. We kept chipping away until we reached a rocky beach we thought might have a campsite. Just as we reached shore a crab fisherman pulled up to let us know there was a kayaker campsite around the next point, about a half mile away. It was really nice of him to motor over to help us out. A lot of advice we get is only about half right, but we found a great campsite right where he told us it was. We landed in rough waves, and my boat got beat up a bit on the barnacle covered rocks, but the next morning we would have an easy launch at the top of the beach. We marveled at the sunset while we ate dinner, and at the sunrise while we drank our morning coffee. We could have spent the day staring at the glacial mountains, icebergs drifting down the sound, and islands filtered by the smoke of wildfires in BC, but we loaded up the boats once again and started paddling.
We thought we could make it to Petersburg on our third day if we started early enough. We paddled for 2 hours before the wind again started to blow hard. We knew we could make the remaining 10 miles to Petersburg so we started to look for a beach. It was only 10 AM, but we knew the wind was going to blow all day. As we paddled along the beach we came to a couple splitting wind on the beach in front of their cabin. They waved and looked friendly, so I pulled in to ask about a place to camp before we reached the point. Don and Jenny turned out to be some of the nicest people on the planet, and invited us to setup our tent on their porch. They had built a beautiful log home above the beach, a mile walk from the road to town (which was only open in the Summer) and 10 miles by skiff to town. We spent the day perusing their life off the grid, picking blueberries, and enjoying their view.
The next day we got up early to make it the last hop to Petersburg. It was another day of perfect blue skies. We paddled the last 10 miles easily, but I realized as we approached the channel that the sun was starting to bake my brain. I was getting burnt despite the thick layer of sunscreen I smeared on when we started a few hours earlier. 
Just as we reached the channel we saw the first killer whales of our trip. A juvenile and small adult swam slowly past then disappeared just as we thought they were going to get close. We waited a short time then continued on to the marina, where we tied up our boats and found a place to get out of the sun.
 We’ve got just two more hops to make it to Haines. It should be around 130 miles to Juneau, where we plan to stay a few days visiting friends, then 100 miles to Haines!
Posted in Trip Log

Feels Like Home

Aug11
2010 1 Comment Written by Doug

Week in Ketchikan

Deer Mountain Trail outside of Ketchikan..it was steep, hot, and made our legs burn like we hadn’t used them in years.
We ran out of water so didn’t quite make it to the top, but were still rewarded with good views
We spent most mornings in Ketchikan getting up way too early to try and beat the wind, but for a whole week were blown back to the harbor…this is Lil’ Bit waiting patiently for us to tie our boats back up one of those mornings.
Doug also waits patiently

We stayed at the Super 8 Motel in Ketchikan, the room was clean, the staff was very kind, but this was the view out our window.  Float planes were a constant delight starting at 7am and going until 7pm drowning out  TV, phone calls, and conversation. 

Almost to Wrangell

Yep, we’re making it! I know I never wrote about it in this blog, or even said it out loud, but when we started this trip and I realized how hard it was going to be, I honestly thought I would never make it to Haines. I know we’re not there yet, but now, for the first time, I finally feel like we will make it!

Coming into Wrangell Doug and I were searching for a place to camp, once again thwarted with barnacle encrusted beaches and not a terrible lot of options when I remembered a good friend of mine’s parents summered in Wrangell. I remember seeing pictures of their cabin being built just feet from the ocean and how excited they were. I pulled out my cell phone, which miraculously had a signal, and called hoping I could get through. I did! And it turned out they were there and only a couple more miles up the beach! We pulled our kayaks up in front of their cabin and their neighbors came down to check out our boats. Doug and I barely had to carry anything up the beach with all the extra hands. It was so great! We have hung out here with Dianna and Mark and their neighbors Ginny and Steve for a couple days now. It has made Wrangell feel like home which I have missed since we had to move to Anchorage two years ago.

Foggy Bay Cabin-I would live in a forest service cabin if I could, they are probably the best thing ever invented.
Posted in Trip Log

Ketchikan to Wrangell

Aug11
2010 Leave a Comment Written by Doug

Wow, we finally were able to leave Ketchikan on Friday morning, and we sailed out of town at 6 to 7 knots. It was sweet! We sailed out the Tongass Narrows to Clarence Strait. When we got to the strait the low clouds obscured the tip of the Cleveland Peninsula, but we had 3 or 4 miles of visibility, so we took a compass bearing and started sailing across. The wind was still blowing from the south, but there were 2 to 3 foot waves heading northeast up Behm Canal, making it a bumpy ride. Even so, we sailed across without having to paddle. As we entered Clarence Strait the wind started to drop, but the waves kept on rolling in, lifting up the back of our boats and quickly setting us down in the troughs. It wasn’t rough, but I already had a headache, and the quick up and down acceleration started to wear on me. As soon as we got close to shore we pulled over to stretch and eat some food, hoping my headache would go away. We sat on a log for a few minutes, but the beach our boats were sitting on was less than ideal, and the tide was quickly going out. We got back in the boats to see how I would feel. After just a few minutes my head started to pound again, so we looked for a good beach where we could stop for a few hours and see if my headache would go away. We rounded False Island and found a decent stone beach and pulled over.

We sat on the beach in the rain for an hour. My headache wasn’t going anywhere, and it was getting cold just sitting in the rain, so we decided to setup camp. We weren’t really thrilled with the beach because there were lots of piles of bear scat. Bears were clearly digging through the high tide line looking for food earlier in the day, which probably meant they weren’t finding a lot of other food to eat. Even so, we put up the tarp and flattened out a tent pad under a giant spruce at the top of the beach. After unloading our boats and making dinner, we peeled off our soaking wet “dry” gear and crawled in the tent. The first night out of town, away from the endless buzzing of seaplanes, was beautiful. I would easily accept the rain and cold for the solid 10 hours of sleep I got on the beach.

When we woke up at 5:15 we were still tired, but my headache was gone. I crawled out of the tent and dropped our food bags from the bear hang. As I was making coffee I looked up to see a lone kayaker silently paddling past the beach. This was the first touring kayaker we saw in 900 miles of paddling. I whistled and tried to get his attention, but he was pushing hard through the rolling waves and wind and he didn’t see or hear me. He was already on the water, and we were barely out of bed. I finished making coffee and crawled back in the tent out of the rain to leisurely absorb my daily dose of caffeine. We wondered if the kayaker was the customs agent we talked to in Ketchikan, and thought we might run into him later, but we never saw him again.

As we were loading the boats a family of humpback whales swam past our bay, surfacing one after the other, with 1 or 2 whales arching their tails into the air to show us their flukes every other breath. It was a nice diversion from hauling our heavy, wet gear to the water. By the time we got on the water the wind had dropped a little, but it was still blowing from the northwest. We tried to paddle sail into the wind for a while, but then the wind died altogether. They were forecasting south winds in the afternoon, and we wanted to leave up our sails, but decided to drop them to paddle through the glassy water. Throughout the day we passed beautiful stone beaches that would make great campsites, and hoped maybe they were an indication of what the beaches would be like through this part of Alaska.

We stopped a few times during the day to rest and eat on a beach, a luxury we hadn’t had for a long time, but we thought if the wind picked up from the south we could make it to Meyers Chuck. Late in the afternoon the wind did start to blow, so we raised our sails for the last few miles.

We pulled into Meyers Chuck around 5:00, and tied up on the back side of the dock behind a beautiful, big trimaran from California. We chatted with the owners for a few minutes, then one of the residents walked down to the dock to tell us we could camp in her yard. She and her husband had purchased and renovated the old schoolhouse, where our guide book said we might be able to stay, so she looked out for kayakers to let them know the schoolhouse was no longer available, but there were some good places to pitch a tent. It was really nice. When we carried our gear up to shore it started to rain, so we moved onto the deck of one of the cabins to get out of the rain. Nobody was home, and we hoped they wouldn’t mind, but we really wanted a chance to dry some of our gear out.

We slept great in this quiet little community of cabins. We woke up early again to catch the current and wind. There was an outside chance we could make it the 28 miles to a forest service cabin at Frosty Bay. When we got on the water the wind and current were with us, so we rounded Lemesurier Point and made a beeline for Eaton Point, 10 miles away. It wasn’t a fast sail, so we paddle sailed downwind for most of the day. Motivated by a dry night in the cabin, we kept moving, gladly taking whatever help we could get from the wind. Eventually, we pulled into Frosty Bay and found the forest service cabin empty. It was unbelievably decadent to start the heater and cook our dinner indoors. These cabins don’t have electricity or running water, and have wooden bunks for beds, but they do have a diesel heater that makes them perfectly cozy.

We woke up early again, after a long nights sleep, and packed up our boats. We were only 36 miles from downtown Wrangell, so we were either going to have a short day if the wind was against us, or a long day if it was with us. The water was like glass as we headed across to the tip of Deer Island.

We could see swirls of current flooding around the end of the island, and we couldn’t tell how much the current was going to help or hurt us, but we made good time. After we passed Found Island the current started pushing us a bit, and it looked like we would have a chance to make it to Wrangell so we paddled steady. After about 9 hours of paddling we both decided we weren’t going to make it, but would probably
end up about 12 or so miles short on one of the islets off Wrangell Island.


We kept paddling, and as we rounded Nemo Point Katey remembered that we were going to call one of her friends to see if her parents were at their cabin in Wrangell. We were thrilled to find out that not only were her parents at their cabin, but that we were pretty close and it would be ok to stop and visit. We paddled on, and after 11 hours and 28 miles for the day we pulled up on the beach in front of their cabin. We were both beat, but Mark and Diana and their neighbors Steve and Ginny came down and helped us unload the boats and carry them up. Steve and Ginny had a spare bedroom they offered to us, and Mark and Diana made us dinner. It was so nice to not only be (almost) to Wrangell, but to be welcomed indoors for food, a comfortable bed, the company of dogs and an endless supply of entertaining stories. In fact, it was so nice we decided to take a couple days off and recover from our 4 day, 100 mile paddle from Ketchikan before continuing on to Petersburg just 30 miles away.

Posted in Trip Log

Sun + Hot = Headwind

Aug05
2010 Leave a Comment Written by Doug

Ketchikan averages 165 inches of rain each year. Is that a lot? Seattle averages 32 inches. Yesterday someone told us one of his first years here they had 10 days of sunshine. 9 of the days were strung together, leaving one day of sunshine out of the remaining 356 days. We have been in Ketchikan for a week, and we haven’t seen a cloud in the sky. It has been sunny and 70 or 80 degrees for 8 days in a row here. That is why we wake up each day believing the sun and blue skies have to be replaced with rain and low clouds.

It’s not that we don’t like sun, it’s that the sun comes with a high pressure system, and around here that seems to mean a northwest wind blowing 20 knots. 20 knots of wind isn’t necessarily bad, but right now we need to travel northwest for about 33 miles, and in a headwind like that we would probably average 1 knot, depending on the current. That means we would spend 30 or so hours tearing at our shoulders and grumbling about the wind.

Up to this point, when we have a persistent northwest headwind, we get up ridiculously early and get some miles before the wind builds in the late morning or early afternoon. For the last four days we have gotten up before dawn to get an early start, and each time we have ended up back at the hotel. We either load the boats and start paddling, only to find out the wind is already blowing 15 or more knots in our face, or we don’t even make it into the boats before we see waves marching past the marina.

It seems crazy to be stuck here in such beautiful weather, but someone is probably trying to teach us something. Patience is a virtue. Accept the things you cannot change. Sharks eat people (it’s Shark Week on the Discovery Channel). Blah, blah, blah.

The weather is finally supposed to change tomorrow. The forecast is for rain and southeast winds, the perfect conditions for two pasty kayakers trying to get to Haines.

On one of our attempts to escape Ketchikan we saw the Time Bandit from The Deadliest Catch pass by.
Posted in Trip Log