Auke again

Sunday. Winds to 20 knots out of the southwest, 45, some sucker holes in the overcast.

We got away from Pelican about 1:30PM. It was partly cloudy and dead flat calm as we motored up Lisianski Inlet our wake stretching from the stern to each shore. A long 2-4 foot swell from the Gulf greeted us as we rounded the corner at Column Point, Cross Sound. The swell came and went as our exposure to Cross Sound waxed and waned with the only wind being that produced by Mercedes.

We were at the entrance to Elfin Cove’s inner harbor a little after 5. The channel is both narrow and shallow but with the tide a bit before its midpoint and rising I was pretty sure there was enough water. The scare box didn’t fail to excite as the reading was 7.5 feet at one part, 1 foot below the keel.

Elfin Cove is kind of like an old friend who hasn’t aged as well as one would like. I have been here several times, first by float plane in the late 70’s, next as crew on the M/V My Way in October, 1987. The last time was June, 2000, when Dave, Suzan, and I brought Blue Note north. The quaint fishing village has morphed into a seasonal charter-fishing destination with big fancy lodges dominating the architecture and virtually surrounding the inner harbor. Of course, this time of year they are all boarded up, lending an air of dead artificiality to what used to be a beautiful little town. This trend was becoming apparent ten years ago by the construction of a large brand new lodge on the point just west of the channel. Since then there are four new ones on the hill above and beside the post office.

Thursday dawned clear and calm. We were underway before 10, late as usual. High tide was at nine and we really should have been on our way a couple hours before. The reward for my laziness came in the form of an ebbing tidal current pushing through the venturi otherwise known as South Inian Passage toward the Pacific. We, of course were going the other way. The chart says those currents can reach 8-10 knots. Fortunately they weren’t that strong but they were cutting our speed in half and the rips were causing Blue Note to yaw through 40-50 degrees.

We survived. Rounding Point Adolphus we began to pick up a following wind. Too bad it was only traveling as fast as we were. I tried unfurling the Genoa but it hung limply and shifting into neutral we slowed to 2 knots. Oh well, back to motion by Mercedes.

After successfully negotiating the Gedney Channel and rounding Cannery Point Hoonah hove into view. The Coast Pilot says it is the largest native community in Southeast. It is noticeably larger than the other small villages obviously taking advantage of relatively flat land not possessed by the others. Like the others it faces mostly south on its inlet, Port Frederick. Just after passing their lift dock a humpback blew and sounded right off Pitt Island on our starboard bow. It was magical, right down to the hint of a rainbow in the drifting mist. Then we docked the boat.

Met a fellow who arrived in a 12 foot skiff right after we did. He was admiring the beach wheels on Blue Note’s skiff. Seems his place had a mud flat in front and he wanted to know how they worked. The conversation wound on and presently I found myself discussing someone we knew in common whom I really didn’t think much of. But it was a gorgeous afternoon and this guy was a well spoken pleasant fellow so I didn’t bring up what I really thought of his friend. He was on his way to catch the State ferry to Juneau to meet his wife. He pointed me in the direction of a restaurant and was on his way.

So after Jazz finished with his business I wandered up to Mary’s Inn on the main drag just past the cold storage dock. The two story building has its front sitting on land and its back end stilted over the high tide line. Other than a lady picking up take-out I was the only customer. The seating area in the back had a beautiful 270 degree view of Pitt Island and the approach to the small boat harbor directly ahead with Blue Note’s mast poking up over the breakwater on the left to the ferry terminal at the far end of town to the right. The sunset reminded me that I had forgotten the camera again. The menu resembled that of Kenny’s Wok and Teriyaki in Sitka with selections of both. I had the fish and chips special. It was pretty good.

The forecast for Friday afternoon, Saturday and Sunday had not changed in two days: a front was to move through northern Southeast and the winds and seas would make voyaging very unpleasant. The bottom line was that wherever we were Friday night was where we would be until Monday. For a lot of reasons I wanted that place to be Juneau rather than Hoonah even if it meant berthing in Auke Bay.

We got away by 8:20AM Friday. Ten minutes later the belt driving the house battery alternator let go. I thought about turning around and replacing the belt at the dock or maybe not even replacing it until reaching Auke Bay. I quickly rejected the second idea as should we have to shelter in Funter Bay I wanted a fully charged house battery. I also didn’t want to lose the time spent turning back. Fortunately Icy Strait was flat. Twenty minutes and we were underway again the batteries receiving their needed charge.

By the time we reached The Sisters, a bunch of islands and reefs almost at the intersection of Icy Strait, Chatham Strait, and Lynn Canal, the winds had built to 20-25 knots out of the northeast, right where we wanted to go of course. The predicted storm had the winds veering from northerlies to out of the southeast. Rounding Point Couverdin into Lynn Canal it was obvious the wind direction had begun its move to the south.

This was beneficial because finally the sail was contributing to Blue Note’s forward motion. At times we were exceeding 7 knots with main and the ‘iron jib’ Miss Mercedes. About halfway across Lynn Canal to Point Retreat the engine quit. I knew immediately what had happened. I had checked the main fuel tank in Elfin Cove and finding it empty transferred the contents of one of the two 15 gallon deck jugs into it. After 13 hours of running time plus almost 36 hours of heater usage it was dry again. It was a total rookie mistake. After switching tanks and the requisite 5 minutes of pumping, priming, and various machinations, Miss Mercedes was running again. A couple of things made the incident inconsequential. First, the fetch was short and the seas were fairly flat. Second, there was enough wind at a good angle to keep the mainsail full and driving, allowing Otto enough steerage to keep Blue Note on course. I hate spending my luck on situations brought about by my own stupidity while at the same time am thankful for it.

While all this was taking place the winds were continuing to veer to the south and build in intensity such that by the time we rounded Point Retreat the winds were out of the east at over 30 knots with gusts into the gale force range. In these conditions a stalled engine would have had catastrophic results with the wind driving us onto a lee shore before we could even get the jib deployed to try to claw our way off. But the engine didn’t stall and after three hours on a run normally made in less than two we finally gained Statter Harbor.

Yesterday was spent resting, relaxing, and reconnecting with friends and family. Today the job is updating the blog. Tomorrow I was planning to take the bus to an auto parts store to find a replacement belt and to Fred Meyers to restock the larder. It however is Seward’s Day, an important holiday in Alaska’s capitol city and I don’t know if there will be an open auto parts store although I’m pretty sure Freddies will be. Tomorrow will tell.

The pics are of Cape Spencer across Cross Sound, the entrance to Elfin Cove’s inner harbor showing the first large lodge on the right, the other end of the channel, the back side of Elfin Cove and the inner harbor, Hoonah, the Blue Note in Hoonah’s small boat harbor with Pitt Island to the right, and The Sisters.

ap

Pelican!

Rain and snow, 33, wind out of the south at ten knots.

No fun to be outside. We are on the outside of the tee on the end of C dock in Pelican. It snowed all morning, a wet slush almost 2 inches deep and treacherous. Even Jazz with four-paw-drive was slipping and sliding.

Had a rather interesting morning. Got up to the sound of wet clumps of snow falling from the stays, shrouds, and spreaders. Of course, these sudden sounds absolutely terrify Jazz so he was doing his shaking fearful dog thing right at my feet. Looked outside and quickly concluded we’d spend another night in Pelican. Even though Elfin Cove is only 20 miles away there’s no point in going if the visibility sucks and it’s miserable outside.

But it was warm and cozy in Blue Note. Seemed like a good morning for waffles. I was just about to put the first of the batter in the waffler when I noticed the cabin heater had gone out. A quick check revealed a hot to the touch fuel pump. After breakfast I swapped in the spare pump and the heat was back on. As the tools were being stowed the battery low voltage warning light came on.

This light indicates that the house battery, the big battery that powers everything except the engine starter, had dropped below 11.0 volts. It popped back up and the light turned green after the refrigerator compressor shut off, but it was indicative that a charge had to be applied to the battery. Without a charge the battery will continue to supply power until it reaches 10.5 volts at which point the low-voltage-disconnect will operate and nothing works, VHF radio, depth sounder, lights, and most importantly, the heater fuel pump. When we are cruising every day it takes about 2½ hours of the engine running at 2000 rpm to resupply a full charge after using the battery for over night. With no charging, the battery will last about 48 hours from full charge to low voltage disconnect.

The current situation :-) was that yesterday’s run had not supplied a full charge and 24 hours of no charging later we were almost out of juice. A trip to City Hall to pay moorage fees and request an AC connection and we are plugged in.

Pelican is laid out similarly to Tenakee Springs in that both are on the north shore of their respective inlets facing south. The Pelican main “street” is actually a wooden dock roughly 20 feet wide extending about a 1/3 of a mile from Pelican Seafoods on the west to a strip of land on the east. All of the buildings front on the “street” or have extended walkways that reach it and almost all of them are on pilings. There is a restaurant, a hotel, several B & Bs, 2 float plane services, all closed this time of year. Rosie’s Bar is the only open business I’ve found. There is probably a grocery store but not needing it I haven’t really looked for it. Maybe tomorrow.

The pics were taken last night on our evening constitutional. One is of the harbor from the main street. The other is of the street in the background with the railing in the foreground. The image is a screen shot of the nav computer showing the chart of Pelican and Blue Note as a green icon roughly in the center.

ap

ADDENDUM: Just added a couple of shots, one of City Hall and of the boardwalk.

On the road again

Overcast, mid 30s calm.

It’s another lazy morning on Blue Note. We are tied to the dock in front of a Forest Service shelter next to Bohemia Creek near the northern end of Lisianski Strait. I say lazy because it feels the same as has been the norm for the last four months: the captain doesn’t get out of bed until after 8AM, the coffee maker is started, the crew goes ashore to take care of morning business, the coffee is consumed, breakfast gets eaten, and we’re ready for the day by 10.

We finally extricated ourselves from Sitka. Sitka is a very comfortable, easy place to be. As an example, Thursday night I went to an excellent concert at Sitka’s fairly new Performing Arts Center. The April Verch Band played to an almost full house in the beautiful 500-seat venue. April is a Canadian national fiddle champion as well as a very accomplished step dancer and she and her two bandmates burned the house down. If you watched the Olympic opening ceremonies last month you saw the April Verch Band.

Then Sunday night was to be another open mic at the Larkspur Café. Ted Howard had been increasing the pressure on me to get up and do a few songs. I would have had the weather not turned favorable for voyaging.

Turn favorable it did. We got away Saturday a little after noon. The morning had been mostly cloudy with a cool ten knot northerly blowing. By the time we were underway the clouds had left and the wind veered to the northeast and filled to 15 knots. There were small craft advisories posted for the outside waters through the evening. My plan was to move to Salisbury Sound, evaluate the conditions for Sunday and then either continue up Peril Strait to an anchorage on the inside in case of heavy weather or anchor in Sukoi Inlet off Salisbury Sound and continue up the outside if it were settled.

Sunday dawned cool and clear in Sukoi Inlet with the breeze out of the north at 20 knots. As we motored up the inlet I hoisted the main to the masthead. This proved to be a miscalculation. Upon entering the Sound whitecaps could be seen all the way across. Blowing a steady 25-30 we had a very exciting sail across to the passage behind Klokachef Island. Gaining the lee, I put a reef in the mainsail, but by that time it was evident the winds were being channeled through the passes and that its velocity was probably more like 15-20 knots. We motor-sailed up the outside to the entrance to the inside passage at Khaz Bay, some five miles, adjusting the sail trim as the wind veered and backed and moving up and down in the long six foot swell.

The cruise through the passage was fun, twisting and turning, only 40-50 yards wide in a few places and less than 20 feet deep near Kimshan Cove. Watching the depth finder can be such a two edged sword. You are cruising along secure in the knowledge that there is plenty of water below and that the tide is rising when all of a sudden the bottom comes rocketing up. Your heart gets an immediate hit of pure adrenalin. Time dilates. You pass over without a bump and you are left with the thought that you only get so many of those intense rushes in your lifetime. Steve on the Miss Roxanne used to call it the scare box. I’m inclined to agree.

We emerged at Imperial Passage from Portlock Harbor back to the open ocean. By this time the wind had died to variable to ten knots. The six foot seas were still rolling, the peaks far apart. The entrance to Lisianski Strait from the ocean is only 125 yards wide with a hidden reef to the east and an exposed rock to the west. The best channel lies nearer the rock. It’s an interesting conflict to know you have to hug the rock to avoid the hidden reef. One look at the scare box cured that conflict.

From the entrance the Strait becomes deep from shore to shore. It made for a relaxing run up to the dock where we are. Well except for a glitch in Otto the autopilot. He decided to take about an hour break from turning left. He’d turn right but wouldn’t turn left. When the hour was up he went back to work with nary a burp yesterday afternoon nor today.

Pelican is a little over an hour around the corner. If I can get a connection I’ll post this.

ap

Sitka, how can I miss you if you won't let me go?

Where to start? The big story is the weather, as in not getting suitable weather for travel, especially on the outside coast. Sunday morning it was blowing to 55 knots with seas to 25 feet on the outside and here at the dock we were getting sideways chicken feather snow. This not entirely unexpected state of affairs is bumping headlong into there being no room at the inn. Yeah I’m still here in Sitka…only through the efforts of Kristi in the harbormaster’s office. She originally gave me until the 6th of March, but the slip’s owner was delayed in getting his boat back in the water. Well he’s delaying no more. She called to say he will splash on the 17th, tomorrow.

By the time she called on Friday afternoon I had been keeping a weather eye since the 2nd in preparation for departure on the 6th. By Friday afternoon, Passage Weather was showing a 2-3 day window starting in the late evening of Monday the 8th, but by the time Monday afternoon arrived the expected calm had disappeared and no good window was predicted for the foreseeable future. As things stand, I will call Kristi tomorrow after 8AM to see if she was able to find me another temporary berth. If she can, I will move there until the weather breaks. If not, I will head out, altering course to stay in the sheltered waters of Peril Strait, probably to Tenakee Springs.

Kristi’s kindness is exacerbated by the arrival of the Sitka Sound herring fishermen. Between the seiners and tenders, over 150 are expected. Not even half way there and they are rafted 2 and 3 deep along the transient floats. The quota this year is the biggest ever and with the economy the way it is, most of the permit holders will likely show up. To the aforementioned boats, add several dozen fish cops buzzing around in small fast boats and more than a few spotter planes flying around overhead all confined to the designated areas of the Sound. It is one of the most intense fisheries, often only open for 15 minutes. It is very lucrative, estimated at almost $10 million this year and when you consider there are 49 permit holders the intensity begins to become understandable.

So here I sit. I’ll append a note to this entry tomorrow after I find out if there is a slip for me or not.

ap

ADDENDUM: Kristi came through with another slip so I'm here until Friday afternoon or Saturday morning.

Thought I'd add a couple of nighttime shots of the herring fleet.