Travels of the Blue Note

Who cares about ID when there might be contraband

2010-08-09T14:36:00.000-07:00

When we first arrived in Ketchikan I had opted for the monthly slip rental. The harbor staff had informed me that if we were to stay for more than 10 days it was cheaper. My plan at that time was to be in town for about a week, effecting repairs, re-provisioning, and readying for our grand adventure through Misty Fjords, then 10 days to 2 weeks for the trip, and a week to get ready for Canada. At over $30 per day at the daily rate I was all for cheaper. Then because of my excellent medical adventure (pardon my sarcasm), we spent 2 weeks. With the week long trip I had a little over a week of marina time already paid for remaining. It felt good to finally have something go according to plan.

The first thing I did upon our return was to call the doctor’s office to procure more packing material, renew my prescription, and get a follow-up appointment. With a date set for the next Tuesday afternoon I concentrated on the usual in-port boat stuff: groceries, liquor, incidental repairs, oil change, etc. I also went by the post office and picked up a new supply of crosswords and some audio books (thanks, Mom) and the refund check for my utility deposit from the City of Sitka that Rik had forwarded. It seems that they couldn’t credit my credit card and wouldn’t hold the check for my return. At least I finally got it 4 ½ months after closing my utility account in Sitka.

On Monday afternoon while I was at the bank depositing the check I asked about getting foreign currency. I had found out that both of the credit card companies I have cards with were going to charge me a 3-5% fee for each transaction in Canada. Based on my monthly expenditures to this point this represents over a hundred dollars so I had decided I would spend cash while in BC. Besides, I had heard from other cruisers that BC stands for “bring cash” although not because of credit card usury.

Anyway, the folks at Wells Fargo informed me that they held no loonies but that I could order them from their foreign currency department and that it would take 2-3 business days for the cash to arrive at the bank whereupon they would call me to pick it up. First thing Tuesday morning I called to order the currency. I was told it would be shipped FedEx that afternoon and I could expect the call Friday afternoon. Furthermore there was no exchange fee, only a shipping fee of $6.75. Since the slip was paid through Sunday at noon this would work. I placed the order.

That afternoon I went to the doctor’s office. I was feeling pretty good about the healing progress my wound had made since the last visit. The antibiotics had knocked out the infection, restoring normal color around the site and judging by how much packing tape I was using, the cavity had closed to 1/3 of what it was. The doctor examined it, painfully probed it and told me he still wanted to cut it open. His fear was that it wouldn’t close up and that the packing process would become chronic allowing anaerobic bacteria to re-establish next to the bone threatening infection of the bone and causing loss of the leg. He wanted to see me in a month. When I told him I would probably be in BC or Puget Sound he instructed the nurse to copy all of my records so I could take them along. He then half jokingly said I could get the operation done in Canada for free. I smiled, telling him that this little medical go-around had cost me $1300 to date with over $900 of that the lab work and x-rays the hospital had done. He was genuinely shocked and said that our medical system was broken. Truer words have not been spoken.

The rest of the week was spent preparing for transiting Canada. Being a true Alaskan I was armed to the teeth. I knew they frowned severely on bringing pistols into the country so I had mailed the .44 to Rik in Valdez when I was in Ketchikan previously and mailed the .22 to Lance in Portland Tuesday. I went online to find out what their laws were concerning ammunition, fishing, cash, dogs, food, liquor, etc. No problem with the ammo, I was well under their limit of 5000 rounds. Ditto the cash. Jazz had had all his shots while we were in Sitka so he was legal. Possession of fishing gear was no problem as long as I didn’t use it without a license. To my dismay, I found that one of my rifles was restricted due to the barrel being ½ inch too short (the limit is 18 and 1/2 inches even though almost every short barreled rifle is 18 inches; you don’t suppose they did that on purpose?) and couldn’t come through without me possessing a Temporary Transportation Permit. This required a background check and a waiting period, clearly out of the question. I would have to ship it.

I began researching shipping the rifle. To my horror I found I had committed two felonies in mailing the pistols. I had heard the restrictions on mailing firearms had been relaxed. This is true of rifles. Not so with pistols. They could only be mailed by a Federal Firearms License holder to another FFL holder. I was clear on the .44 as Rik said he had picked it up with no issues. If a postal inspector found the .22, I would probably be arrested trying to clear back into the US in Washington. I knew I was going to lose sleep until I heard Lance had received the gun.

I didn’t have a case for this rifle so off I went to the sporting goods store. While there I asked the clerk for his advice. He was under the assumption that the FFL routine was still required for rifles. I told him what I had found, failing to mention my felonious behavior. He did say that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to simply ship the rifle in the case and that I should go next door to the freight expeditors in the mall. They said it would be no problem, they could box it up for me, and if I were able to get it to them within the hour, it would go out that afternoon.

With the firearms taken care of I turned my attention to food and liquor. Canadian Customs restricts some fruits, vegetables, and beef. No problem, I was planning to take 2-3 days to get to Prince Rupert from Ketchikan and would simply not buy any more than what I would consume in that time with the idea of replenishing the larder there.

Liquor was a problem. They restrict liquor importation to 1.5 liters total. Blue Note is my residence. I have both a liquor cabinet and a wine cellar onboard. There was no way I could consume enough booze to get under the limit at least without being totally impaired during the transit and arriving with a massive hangover. I decided I wouldn’t visit the liquor store before leaving and would explain my situation to the Canadian Customs officials throwing myself on their mercy.

Friday morning all that remained on my list was to wait for the loonies, stop at the fuel dock (this time on our way), and head for Canada. My phone rang a little after 4. It was the foreign currency department at Wells Fargo calling to explain that FedEx had delivered the money to the wrong address and that they wouldn’t be able to re-ship until Monday morning, meaning I wouldn’t be able to pick it up until Tuesday afternoon. I was furious. He explained that at least the person was honest and returned the shipment to FedEx. I pointed out that that was fortunate for Wells but did me absolutely no good. Further, the delay would cost me almost $120 in slip fees. He offered to waive the $6.75 and the overnight shipping charges. I told him to go ahead. Even though I had more than lost what I had hoped to save I could spend the time working on the blog. Sigh.

Saturday I called Lance and was very much relieved to hear he had gotten the pistol.

The guy from Wells called on Monday to say the shipment had gone out that morning and gave me the tracking number. He went on to say that the previous package had actually arrived in Ketchikan on Thursday afternoon but that FedEx had delayed informing the bank of the delivery error until late on Friday. Thanks a lot FedEx. I apologized for my ire on Friday and we hung up on good terms.

Right after the call, I was putzing around in the galley and accidently knocked the carafe for the coffee maker to the floor, shattering it. Oh man, now I was in trouble! I had just put the second most important piece of gear on the boat out of commission. I jumped on the bike and made my way to the mall. Neither Sears nor the appliance store carried Krupp coffee makers and I was loathe to spend over $50 for one that required paper filters. Despondent and at a loss for what to do, I remembered I had saved the carafe and gold filter for my old Krupp machine that had bit the dust several years earlier. I rushed back to the boat, dug it out and tried it. It wasn’t a perfect fit but I was able to make it work by using the top from the broken carafe. Whew, crisis averted!

Tuesday morning I saw the FedEx plane land at the airport over on Gravina Island. I waited an hour then went online to track the package. It had arrived in Ketchikan. I saw that it had originated in Portland. If I had known that I could have transferred money to Lance and he could have picked up the loonies and sent them to me via Alaska Air Gold Streak. I would have gotten them Wednesday or at the very latest Thursday. Oh well.

By 4, tracking indicated the shipment was on the delivery truck. I called the bank letting them know I was expecting the package. She told me they would call when it arrived. I detected at bit of attitude but was feeling the system would finally work in my favor and was able to keep my temper in check. I kept checking and at 5 the package had been signed for at the front counter. I figured the branch closed at 5 and when I hadn’t gotten a call by 20 after, resigned myself to not getting away until Wednesday morning.

At 2 minutes before 10, I was standing in front of the bank. The bank hours posted on the locked door indicated the branch was open from 10-6 M-F. My blood was boiling. At exactly 10, they opened the door. I stormed up to the counter and asked for the shipment. It took them almost 10 minutes to find it. I told them I knew it had arrived at 5 the previous day and asked when they were planning on calling me. No answer. By this time I had the attention of the woman who had told me 2-3 business days and that of the branch manager. I let them know I wasn’t very happy with their performance. They began the worthless apologies but I was uninterested, turned heel and left.

The last task was to settle with the harbor master. After looking up my account the woman told me I owed almost $400! Choking back the words that immediately came, I told her I had already paid for a month and that I only owed for 3 days moorage and the electrical charges. She scrolled around for a minute then snapped at me, saying my playing with my credit card was making her task more difficult. I put the card down and as calmly as I could, lined out when I had arrived, left, and returned. She punched numbers on her 10-key and told me $160. Much better. Strong emotion is contagious.

We were away from the dock at 11:30. The weather was beautiful, warm and sunny, with a 15 knot wind blowing down Revillgigedo Channel. Even though the start was late, at least we would have a pleasant downwind run to our anchorage. We stopped at the fuel dock and filled up. I was pleased to find we had only used 47 gallons for the 130 mile trip around the island. We were underway by 12:45.

Our destination was Foggy Bay, probably the most popular anchorage for boats traveling between Ketchikan and Prince Rupert. Even though the 37 mile trip was a bit long given our late departure, I was counting on the tail winds to speed us along our route.

Motorsailing along with the genoa and at times making almost 7 knots, I began to think that maybe the bad day had finally turned good. Then we got to Mountain Point less than 3 miles down the Channel and the wind died. A half a mile further it was blowing right on our nose at 15-20 knots, cutting our speed in half. At first I though this was only temporary but when it hadn’t changed by the time we reached the other side of Bold Island, I knew we weren’t spending the night in Foggy Bay or even Kah Shakes Cove. I listened again to the weather forecast: NW everywhere and yet here we were with SE winds. And not only that I could see a fog bank ahead. Terrific.

I went below to look for options. There weren’t many, the best being Alava Bay. Not having to anchor would save time allowing me to launch the skiff for Jazz and still be able to get away early enough in the morning for the long leg to Rupert. I altered course.

Usually being the slowest duck on the pond is no big deal. Over the last ten years I have gotten used to being passed by almost every other boat. And now, with no schedule to adhere to I hardly notice it. But after the sixth or seventh seine boat passed us and seeing them anchored everywhere, it dawned on me there was an opener the next day. This meant that every seine boat in the southern district would be out on the grounds so as to be ready the next day at first light and that one would most likely be occupying the mooring in Alava Bay. Sure enough, rounding the corner there were 4 boats anchored in the bight and the F/V Muzon was tied to the buoy. Ostensibly these moorings are intended for pleasure boaters and I was beginning to wish a bad fishing day for the Muzon when I realized that I would be in the same place if the roles were reversed. I actually tried to anchor but there was no room if we dragged. Oh well, back to the Coast Pilot.

By now it was after 6 and with the fog bank inexorably moving up the Channel our options were narrowing considerably. Mary Island Anchorage caught my eye on the chart and I looked it up. Not bad but the Pilot recommended Customhouse Cove on the west side for being more sheltered and better holding. It was over 9 miles away but we would be able to finally take advantage of the SE winds and perhaps beat the fog to the anchorage. I picked up the anchor, raised the main and we were off.

Out in the Channel, the winds were kicking up a 4-5 foot sea, hitting us on the port bow and splashing over the dodger. And because we were so close to the wind I couldn’t afford Otto’s sloppy helmsmanship, forcing me to steer. I could also see three trollers already anchored in the cove. Closer, I could see there would be plenty of room for us. We were anchored a little before 9. A half an hour later the fog rolled in, completely shrouding two of our neighbors from sight. What a day!

I was beat, physically and emotionally. There was no way I was going to launch the skiff for Jazz that night. This presented a logistics problem. It takes over an hour to launch the skiff, allow Jazz 15 minutes to do his thing, and then retrieve the skiff. Jazz had been to the beach right before we left the marina. It was 65 miles to Prince Rupert, a long day, too long to do the skiff before leaving. And once we got there, it was probable we wouldn’t be allowed off the boat until we were cleared in, possibly not until Friday. No way was I going to force Jazz to wait that long. The alternative was to spend the day here and hope Canadian Customs would clear us in Friday night. We stayed.

Thursday morning was beautiful, clear and calm. While we were on the beach I heard the unmistakable blow of a whale. A pod was cruising the outer edge of the cove. We jumped in the skiff and zipped out to where I had seen them. They continued up the channel keeping their distance from us. We broke off the chase. It’s one thing to view a 40 foot whale at close distance from a 37,000 pound steel boat and something completely different from a 250 pound inflatable dinghy.

Back on the boat I was delighted to find I had a cell signal. I began calling. While I was on the phone the first flying bug showed up. Almost ¾ of an inch long I thought it was a bee. While we were in Nina Cove the bees would fly into the cabin, cruise around for a minute or so and then fly out when they found nothing of interest and with no urging on my part. This one was showing an inordinate interest in landing on my skin. Not only that, it looked like a huge house fly. Within minutes there were 5 or 6 buzzing around the cockpit. Then I felt a sting and found one on my leg taking a drink. That was it. I went below and got a section of newspaper for fly swatting. After an hour and dozens of fly bodies littering the deck we went below to escape the airborne onslaught.

The afternoon seabreeze kicked in a little after 3. We reemerged to find all but a few of the most tenacious flies had left. I busied myself with cleaning out the chain locker and troubleshooting the forward running light problem. I was unsuccessful in getting them to work but at least had found a bunch of stuff to throw away.

My plan for Friday was to take Jazz to the beach Thursday late and secure the skiff that night to be able to get an early start. We got back to the boat around 7:15. I hoisted the skiff aboard and was in bed by 8, with the alarm set for 4 in the morning.

It was low overcast and calm when we left the anchorage a little before 5. I had to rely on the radar to avoid other traffic about half the time as we motored south to Dixon Entrance. Around 9 we began to pick up a slight breeze and I raised the main. We crossed into Canadian waters at 11:01, and about an hour later Dundas Island came into view and then quickly disappeared into the fog. We finally broke out of the fog for good about 15 miles into Chatham Sound. I was relieved because even though I was prepared to transit Venn Passage using the radar and plotter I really didn’t want to.

By now the wind had picked up to about 10-12 knots just off our starboard bow. I once again had to steer to get any advantage from it. We were making over 5.5 knots and had been for most of the trip but I hadn’t factored the time zone change into my arrival calculations. Now, instead of getting there around 5, it was going to be 6. I hoped Customs would clear us in on a Friday night.

We were in Metlakatla Bay by 4:30. The wind was out of the west at 15 knots. I had opted to leave the main up to get as much speed out of it as I could and now it was a bother as we began the turns of Venn Passage. The Passage is not difficult but it does require paying attention to the course and the depth finder. I had my hands full, dealing with the sail, watching the plotter and depth finder and keeping an eye of the reckless sport fishermen roaring back to town after a day of drinking and fishing in the sun.

A little ways in, I noticed the sounder acting unlike it ever had before. It had been installed six years ago and is on when ever the boat is underway. For hundreds of hours it had performed flawlessly, scaring me at times but never failing to show me how deep it was under the boat. Now, when the depth would vary from 40-50 feet, the numerical readout would disappear and the video indication would fade. It would come back at shallower or deeper depths. Weird.

About half way, so as not to have to deal with it, I cinched the boom amidships. The sounder continued to act funny but we were almost through the passage. The house batteries were fully charged by this time and I figured maybe the regulator causing the alternator to cycle on and off at almost 14 volts was giving the sounder grief. Another thing to add to the list.

When we got into the harbour (when in Canada…) I jumped below to shut off the radar, and stereo. I went back up to furl the sail. When I got back behind the wheel I looked down to see what the depth was. The sounder was blank! Oh great, now I was going to have to see about getting it repaired which would mean staying beyond the weekend and possibly longer. Bring cash indeed.

When Pedro, Chris and I came through Rupert in 2000, we only stayed one night. Rather than deal with the public marina, I had asked for and had gotten a slip at the Yacht Club. It had cost $56 for one night 10 years ago. I wasn’t about to do that again, especially with a potentially much longer stay. We headed for Rushbrook.

Rushbrook has six floats with only one designated for transient vessels. Furthermore it is first come first served. The guide book says to expect to raft up in July and August. They weren’t lying. In places the boats were three deep on the transient float. Right next to that float is the Sailing Association float. There was an open spot right on the end but there was also signage threatening life and limb if you didn’t belong. I saw a sailboat on the transient float that looked heavy enough to have Blue Note along side and headed there.

We got along side and I was just about to toss a line around his amidship cleat when the owner popped up and waved us off. Great, now here we were, all the way into a very narrow fairway with the wind trying to blow us into the expensive yachts on the association float and I had to either turn around or back out. I knew with the way the boat handles in that wind that backing out would be a disaster. I started my turn.

Fortunately, I had the foresight to put a fender out on the starboard side. When we finally got turned around I was too close to a beautiful red sailboat and we brushed along its side for a couple of feet before Blue Note answered her helm and I was able to get her back out. Now what?

The couple on the red sailboat was signaling me to go to the open space on the association float. Who am I to refuse an invitation in those circumstances? But I couldn’t get in starboard side to with the wind blowing me off the float. I went back out and switched the dock lines and fenders to the port side. Ten minutes later we were fast to the dock. It was 6:20.

The next items of business were the harbormaster and Customs. Since I couldn’t use my cell phone and Jazz was looking at me expectantly, we headed for the harbormaster’s office. She was very friendly and got us checked in with a minimum of fuss, even letting me use her phone to call customs.

A woman answered my call and began asking questions. I think she was trying to check us in without an onboard visit but I knew that was impossible because of the firearms. My research had told me that the declaration forms I had downloaded needed to be signed and one of them would serve as my temporary license while we were in Canada. After many questions she finally reached the same conclusion and instructed me to go back to the boat to await a visitation.

Two and a half hours later, a man and a woman dressed in black showed up at the boat. The first thing they wanted was for me to get the firearms. I complied, bringing them up on deck. The woman began comparing my paper work with the guns. The man instructed me to remove Jazz to the dock and for me to remain on deck while he went below. Ten minutes later the woman was finished with her inspection. She collected $25, signed the forms, and handed me my copy. I could hear the guy opening and closing cupboards in my stateroom. Finally after another ten minutes, he came up and asked me where the ammo was. I went below, showed him, and came back up on deck. After another five minutes, he called me down, asked me about food, liquor, tobacco, and Jazz. Then he began quizzing me on whether I had left any firearms in Valdez, where I had shipped the restricted ones, where I intended to visit and if any of the liquor would remain in Canada. I felt like letting him know it was none of his business what I had left in Valdez or where I shipped the guns to, but knew any rudeness would not bode well for me. He seemed satisfied with my answers, nodded to the woman who handed me my CanPass number and they left. They never asked for my passport, the ship documents, or Jazz’ vaccination paperwork! But I had my number. I was cleared into Canada.

The pics: a beautiful afternoon in Bar Point Harbor, goodbye Ketchikan, a humpback shows a fin in Custonhouse Cove, Dundas Island first view of Canada.

What is it a Monument to?

2010-08-09T13:55:00.000-07:00

While dealing with my leg, one of the tasks I had completed along with re-marking the anchor chain and replacing the oversized link was to pay a visit to the Forest Service office to get any information they might have regarding docks, floats, and anchorages. The friendly receptionist loaded me up with maps, brochures, and her own anecdotal information. It seems the Forest Service, recognizing the difficulties of anchoring in the bays of the Monument due to the depth and the rocky bottom, has placed mooring buoys in many of the bays. They are free to use on a first come first served basis. One of the rules on their use is that only one boat may use them at a time if they are over 30 feet. This would prove to be a difficulty.

We got away from the dock at 1. Our first stop was the fuel dock. It’s about 2 miles south of our berth. This required us to go in the opposite direction to where we wanted to go. At one point I considered reversing the direction I was planning to go just so backtracking would not be necessary. I wanted to experience the Monument wilderness last though so I kept to my original plan. But I hate to backtrack so I wasn’t real happy with the four mile trip to the fuel dock and back.

Then I had to decide what to fill. A little explanation is in order. Blue Note has 4 tanks, two 40 gallon tanks and two 35 gallon tanks, for a total of 150 usable gallons. The problem with the way this is set up is that the venting to the tanks is inadequate. The result is that some of the tanks are easier to fill than others. One of the tanks that was empty was one of the more difficult ones to fill. What happens is you squeeze the nozzle and a couple of seconds later there’s a geyser shooting up out of the fill port. When the liquid you’re dealing with might as well be gold, this is not what you want to happen. To add to this, when the geyser spouts, it ends up in the water, creating sheen. When the Coast Guard has a huge facility a couple of hundred feet away from where you are refueling, this is something you really don’t want either.

An hour and a half later we were on our way. The weather wasn’t great, overcast, 10 knots on the nose, and occasional rain squalls. Our destination for the night was Loring, a tiny village whose draw was a dock with a free float, at least according to the Forest Service information I had. I raised sail when we turned up Clover Pass and we motorsailed the rest of the way.

One of the things I noticed on this leg of the trip was the vast number of houses on the beach in Clover Pass. I’m not talking cabins and resorts although there were plenty of those. No, I’m talking houses, big houses with multiple floors, outbuildings, decks, docks with ramps and floats. The fortunes these dwellings represent was staggering and to top it off most showed absolutely no sign of occupation. Must be nice to have a multi-million dollar “cabin” you rarely use.

We got to Loring about 6:30. I wasn’t happy with what I saw. They had a dilapidated float that had no connection to the beach due to missing pilings. The other float was brand new or at least looked it. It was below a huge house replete with a woman standing behind a large picture window with her arms crossed over her chest and scowling at us. Obviously not the free dock the FS was talking about. I went below to read what the Coast Pilot had to say about an alternate anchorage. It mentioned a dock and float in the cove at the head of Naha Bay, the bay we were in. We headed there.

When we turned the corner I could see a couple of sailboats moored to a float. As we got closer I could see it was jam-packed, no room at the inn for us. I still wasn’t absolutely sure if this was the FS dock so I maneuvered close enough to gain the attention of the fellow sitting under the dodger of the nearest boat. He confirmed that it was the FS dock and asked if we wanted to raft up.

After we got tied up and I had taken Jazz ashore I went aboard the S/V Solitude to talk to her owner Orville. He was very kind to recommend some of his favorite places on my route. He, his buddy Telly, and I had a pleasant couple of hours telling stories.

We were away by 10:30 the next morning. Our destination was Klu Bay about 26 miles. The weather was overcast with 10 knots out of the SW, putting it on the nose until we rounded Indian Point. I raised sail and we motorsailed up Behm Canal.

Nearing Neets Bay I could see trollers everywhere. I stopped counting when I got to fifty. I later found out that Neets Bay was a release site for hatchery salmon. For the most part they stayed out of my way even though they had the right-of-way. But there’s a jerk in every crowd and the one in this one kept altering course to be in our path. I finally gave up trying to avoid him, seeing he was a fiberglass boat. I think he saw he would lose the confrontation with a pointy steel boat and veered off. I smiled and waved getting the bird in response.

Approaching the entrance to Klu Bay I was disappointed to see a skiff dart out of the Bay heading for the twin falls that drain the lake above. It probably meant there was already a boat on the FS mooring. Sure enough, a motorcruiser sat at the ball when we rounded the corner. I anchored across the bay but wasn’t happy with the set. I looked at the options and decided to head to a FS mooring in Blind Pass about 10 miles away. If it were occupied there was one up Bailey Bay another 5 miles further. Off we went.

The sun had come out by this time and it was a beautiful motor up to Blind Pass. I could see a large motorcruiser sitting at the mooring in Bailey Bay meaning if the one at Blind Pass were occupied we would be underway for several hours to the next one in Anchor Pass. Fortunately it was vacant and we had no trouble tying up. I launched the skiff and Jazz and I went ashore to explore.

Part of my procedure when scouting an anchorage is to motor around, surveying to see what the depth, bottom type and swinging room look like. Not knowing what the Forest Service’s criteria were for placing their moorings, I saw no reason to alter my habit. Circling the mooring before tying up, I saw we had 30 feet on the beach side, plenty of water. Never the less, I set the alarm for 6 in the morning as we were to have a -3.1 foot low tide at 7:10.

I was awakened at 5 by a strange noise. Getting out of bed, I could hear wind in the rigging. As I was climbing the stairs to the cockpit I heard the noise again and saw the wheel move. The noise was the rudder scraping in the rocks! We were still 2 hours from low tide. I had to get the rudder clear like right now. I started the engine and jumped behind the wheel. It was locked in place. I couldn’t move it. The wind had blown us toward the shore and Blue Note’s rudder was jammed in the bank. I kicked it in gear and applied throttle. At first nothing happened, then slowly we began to move off the bank. Once free, I swung the boat around to the other side of the buoy and put it in reverse to hold us off the bank while I collected my thoughts.

The mooring in Anchor Pass was the nearest option about 11 miles away but on our intended route. There was no way I wanted to retrieve the skiff in the 20 knot wind howling up Blind Pass so I rigged it for towing. We slipped the mooring at 6 and were underway.

We arrived at the mooring in Anchor Pass a little after 8. I was relieved to see it was unoccupied and sheltered from the wind blowing in Behm Canal. This time I circled it more carefully especially with an eye toward swinging room. Satisfied, we were fast to the buoy by 8:30.

The rest of the day was spent reading, doing crosswords, and taking Jazz to the beach. Oh, and deciding where to go from here. Both Orville on the S/V Solitude and Gary on the S/V Irish Dreamer spoke of the great crab fishing in Burroughs Bay. They also warned that the mooring was totally unsheltered from weather blowing up Behm Canal. I decided to see what the weather was like in the morning and to choose whether to go there or continue on then.

Monday morning dawned clear and calm. We slipped the mooring a little before 10 and motored out into Behm Canal. The wind was light, less than 8 knots and on our stern, sadly too light to gain any advantage in raising sail. Several miles up the Canal we were joined by a pod of Dalls porpoises. They stayed with us for an hour playing in our bow wave. It amazes me how much they raise my spirits.

Arriving at the mouth of Burroughs Bay, I debated whether to proceed the 5 miles up the bay to the mooring or to continue on. The wind was still light, less than 5 knots and the sea was relatively flat. With the thought of fresh crab dancing in my head we headed up the bay.

The Unuk and Klahini Rivers drain into Burroughs Bay. I had read that the Unuk River was navigable by skiff over a mile up from the mouth. My plan was to set the crab pot, tie up to the mooring, and then explore the river. Best laid plans…

By the time we got to the mooring at 12:30, the wind had picked up to 10 knots, kicking up a 2 foot chop. Still it wasn’t too bad if it didn’t get any worse. It got worse. By 3, it was blowing 15-18 with a 4 foot chop. I figured the wind would probably die out in the evening if we could stick it out. Exploring the Unuk was definitely out. It was over a mile away and the seas would soak us by the time we got a ¼ of a mile.

By 3:30, it was gusting to almost 25 knots and the sea was running 5 feet. The motion of the boat reminded me of the outside of Dall Island. By this time the boat was banging into the buoy, losing paint in the process and chafing the line. Time to go.

While we were sitting at the mooring, I had watched a crab fisherman pick his pots right in the vicinity where mine was set. He pulled two out of the first one and three out of the second. I thought at least I’d finally catch a crab. Wrong. When I got the pot aboard there was an 8 inch halibut in it, too small to keep. Skunked again.

We headed for Fitzgibbon Cove, right around the corner from Burroughs Bay. There was a spot marked 5 fathoms on the chart that looked suitable. Wouldn’t you know the wind died about a mile from the entrance. Sigh.

As we rounded Fitzgibbon Point, the troller that had been working the waters off Point Whaley was heading for the same bay we were. Given my luck so far this trip, I fully expected to see him anchored in the spot I had picked. I was hugely relieved to see him anchored in the deep basin at the head of the bay. We proceeded to our anchorage and I dropped the hook in 30 feet. I paid out another 60 feet of chain and it set with a satisfying lurch. Home sweet home for the night.

Tuesday was high overcast and calm. Our destination was the FS mooring in Walker Cove. I was a little apprehensive in going there because if it were occupied, I wouldn’t know it until 5.5 miles into the bay, causing an 11 mile detour with the next opportunity for mooring over 20 miles further on. We motored down east Behm Canal and turned into the cove.

Walker Cove is spectacular with granite cliffs rising straight out of the water, some to over 3000 feet. Even if the mooring were occupied, it was worth it to see the place. On our way in an avalanche of rocks and snow tumbled down one of the glacier-cut ravines. Fortunately the mooring was open. We tied up and spent a relaxing evening watching the clouds burn off and the sun disappear behind the peaks.

Wednesday was overcast again with the tops of the cliffs shrouded in mist. It was calm deep in the bay but as we gained the main channel the wind was blowing from the mouth up the bay at 10-12 knots. Approaching the entrance, the wind was a steady 18 knots and whitecaps could be seen out in the Canal. We had towed the skiff since Blind Pass and were again today. I debated turning around and going back to the mooring or at least back to find enough shelter from the wind to get the skiff secured on board. I decided to head out into the Canal to see what the conditions were.

Rounding Ledge Point I could see the seas were 3-4 feet and the wind was still a steady 18 knots, not the best of conditions but not too bad. The route I had plotted had us hugging the eastern shore of Behm Canal to the entrance of Rudyard Bay. But with the weather right on our nose our speed dropped to 2-3 knots. I decided to raise the main and tack into the wind.

Behm Canal is oriented north-south along this 15 mile stretch and with the wind out of the SSE, we were making one long leg and then one short leg across the over mile-wide waterway. Even with a speed of 5.5 knots motorsailing with a single-reefed main our VMG was still only 3.5 knots and the ride somewhat uncomfortable. I began to look for an alternative.

Manzanita Bay on the western shore looked like it might be one. It was at the end of one of the long tacks, it was sheltered from the wind, and though very deep right up to the shoreline the chart showed a mooring buoy at its head.

A mile from the bay we were in the lee of the island. I hadn’t realized how on edge I was until the waves dropped and the wind moderated. I’m never comfortable towing the skiff and in these conditions it was worse. I was looking forward to getting tied up and relaxing.

Clearing Wart Point (what a name) I began looking for the buoy. All the ones I had seen so far consisted of a partially submerged float, girded by a tire serving as a fender, with a 2 foot post topped with a ring. They had been painted white, making them not too difficult to spot. I couldn’t spot this one. I grabbed the binoculars and scanned the shore and still couldn’t find it. I read the Coast Pilot and it described the bay with its mooring buoy. Then I looked at the Forest Service map. It did not show a mooring in Manzanita Bay. Apparently between the time the chart had been updated 2 years ago and this season, the FS had removed the mooring. Oh well, back out into the Canal.

Re-rounding Wart Point, I was happy to see that we were far enough south that we could make it directly to Rudyard Bay without having to tack. About a half hour into the 2.5 mile run and with a sinking heart I spotted a motorcruiser making for Rudyard Bay. Silently urging him to continue northward, he defied my wish and disappeared into the Bay. At this point in my trip through Misty Fjords I was disgusted with the whole thing and contemplated simply turning south and heading back to Ketchikan non-stop. But we had gotten this far and Punchbowl Cove in Rudyard Bay was purported to be the crown jewel of the Monument. Jazz was cocking his head and looking at me with a funny expression as I cursed the gods sotto voce. We continued on.

We rounded the point at the entrance to the Cove and sure enough there was the motorcuiser I had seen earlier at the mooring buoy. To make matters worse, the tops of the sheer granite cliffs were still shrouded in clouds. What a bust all the way around. I still had the sail up and in the fluky winds this far back in the bay I had my hands full keeping it from gybing and luffing. When I finally got the boat turned around I noticed the other boat was moving up the eastern shore of the cove. The mooring was vacant! I apologized to the gods and turned back for the buoy.

When the boat had been secured Jazz and I made our way to the beach for his business. The ideal landing spot for these sojourns is steep enough to allow the skiff to be re-launched with little difficulty but not so steep as to make getting in and out of the skiff a wet proposition, not rocky so Jazz’ pads don’t get cut up on the ubiquitous barnacles and muscles, and not muddy so he doesn’t track it all over both the skiff and the boat. Less than an 1/8 of a mile away there appeared to be the ideal landing spot. We headed over there and it was the best beach we had found ever. Perfectly sloped and free of rocks it consisted of what looked like black sand but was small grains of the surrounding granite. It didn’t even stick to his paws. It says something about Misty Fjords Monument when the high point is finding the perfect beach for Jazz to poop on.

After the perfect beach we motored over to the stream that drains the lake above the cove. Now it was time for me to curse my own stupidity in not taking my camera for right on the beach next to the creek was a big grizzly sow and her 3 cubs foraging in the grass and seaweed. We floated about a hundred yards off the shore and watch them for about 45 minutes. They finally ambled back into the woods and we returned to the boat.

Remember I said that Punchbowl Cove was supposed to be the crown jewel of the Monument? Well it is very pretty, kind of a Yosemite Valley if the valley floor had been flooded with saltwater. This opinion seems to hold great sway with every float plane jockey in southern Southeast because everyone of them makes at least 3 trips through the cove daily. On intervals of less than a minute and sometimes two at a time they roar through at low altitude. Few things are less peaceful than the growl of a nine-cylinder DeHavilland Beaver radial or the scream of a Cessna 206 Lycoming.

Occasionally they land. One did that Thursday morning as I was readying the boat for departure. They are quiet at low throttle settings and this guy cruised past us on the water making for the stream where we had seen the bears. The tourons on board all got out on the float as the plane drifted just off the beach snapping pictures and pointing. Then they all piled back in and the pilot fired up the engine and turned the plane out to the entrance. Then instead of taxiing back out past us he fire-walled the throttle and thundered by no more than 150 feet away. I felt like mooning them but thought better of it as I remembered the six-inch letters emblazoned on each bow proclaiming the boat name.

We headed for Alava Bay. I’d had my fill of the vaunted Misty Fjords. Besides I was running low on medicine and wound packing. But most importantly, I only had a couple of day’s worth of coffee left. The day was sunny and the winds were light. Rounding the point into the bay I saw a fish tender where the mooring was supposed to be. Figures…an unhappy ending to an underwhelming trip. As I got closer I spotted the buoy behind the fish buyer. Yay! After tying up and taking Jazz to the beach I had too many gin and tonics and went to bed early.

Friday I loaded the skiff on the back deck and we were underway by 8:30. It was overcast but promised to burn off. It did burn off but the winds were once again light and we motored the whole way. We were tied to the dock in Bar Point Harbor by 1:30.

My recommendation for Misty Fjords National Monument: do not visit it by boat while the cruise ships are calling on Ketchikan and the float planes are flying. Instead go over to the dark side and do what the tourons do: visit it by float plane.

The pics: one of the weekend cabins in Clover Pass, the mooring at Blind Pass the night before going aground, the Fitzgibbon Cove anchorage, Walker Cove, one of the 3000 foot cliffs in Walker Cove, the mooring in Walker Cove, the wall in Punchbowl Cove, the perfect beach, New Eddystone Rock which is the core of a volcano that rises 900 feet from the ocean floor and is 260 feet above the ocean surface, Alava Bay.

Fun in Ketchikan

2010-07-26T22:38:00.001-07:00

Back in Port Bazan I had noticed my left pant leg was wet but hadn’t paid it much attention. When moving around the boat and doing things, this is a normal occurrence. Then I noticed the top of my left sock was crusty. This isn’t a normal occurrence. I pulled up my pant leg. The scab had come off where I had barked the shin two months earlier and the wound was oozing. I figured it would dry up in a day or two so I swabbed it with alcohol and put a band aid on it. Then I promptly forgot all about it.

A few days later I pulled off the band aid, swabbed it again and re-bandaged it. By the time we got to Ryus Bay, it was red, swollen, and still oozing. Definitely infected. I figured I’d go to the clinic, get a prescription for antibiotics and that would be that.

I debated blowing it off but thought I’d better take care of it so Friday morning I set out to do it. After an hour of walking to several places that claimed to be clinics but didn’t have anybody that could prescribe medicine I finally got to one that could. They didn’t have any appointments but offered a nurse to look at the wound to see if I should see a doctor. She took one look and said I should definitely see a doctor. Serendipitously as I was leaving the receptionist said they had a cancellation and could I be back that afternoon.

After I had described the circumstances under which I had injured it (for about the fifth time) to the doctor and he had examined it, he said he wanted to do a culture. While he was taking the swab he said he also wanted me to go next door to the hospital to have an x-ray and a blood test. And he wanted me to see an orthopedic surgeon. I don’t have health insurance so I said, “Go easy on me, Doc. This is coming out of my pocket.” He looked up and replied, “You want to lose your leg?” That got my attention. He went on to explain that if the infection has gotten into the bone there wasn’t much they could do. I went next door.

Now was I pretty sure the bone wasn’t infected but that doctor had scared me. Right after it happened while I was cleaning the wound I also checked for dents and divots in the bone. There were none. And if it had been broken, I would have experienced pain that would have prevented me from doing what I had done immediately after. But I’m not a doctor. Needless to say, the weekend wasn’t much fun.

Monday morning a nurse called to say the x-ray had been examined and there was no indication of any infection. Whew, what a relief!

Tuesday afternoon I went to see doctor number two. He turned out to be a pretty cool dude (the other guy had the bedside manor of Attila and the usefulness of a traffic cop). He said the infection was a staphylococcus strain that was vulnerable to every antibiotic except penicillin, a very good thing. He added that the hematoma I had gotten from the blow had left a cavity under the skin and that was where the infection was. He said if it were his leg he would have it cut open, cleaned out, and let it heal from the bottom up. The danger was once again the bacteria getting into the bone, the idea being to remove any trace quickly. I must have looked funny because he then said, “The operation would have to be done in the hospital. You’re looking at $6000 minimum.” Ouch, will this roller coaster never end? I asked if there was a plan B. He said,”Yeah, there’s packing.”

Packing is a medical term I wasn’t familiar with so I asked. He told me not to worry; he was going to show me. The nurse knew what he was talking about because she quickly appeared with a bunch of stuff. He proceeded to jam about 6 inches of this white ribbon into the wound with a single-ended Q-tip, using the wooden end. Whoa, creepy. And a little painful. We were done, at least for that day; he wanted to see me again in a couple of weeks. I left with a baggie full of “packing material” and a prescription refill.

Boy was I having fun in Ketchikan. My plan was to be here for about a week taking care of stuff then taking off for an open-ended cruise around Revillagiggedo Island (the island Ketchikan is on) and through Misty Fjords National Monument via the Behm Canal. The trip is about 130 miles and I figured I’d be gone up to two weeks before returning to Ketchikan to prepare for transiting British Columbia. But this stop was proving to be very expensive. I estimated my medical entertainment at $1k or more and I still hadn’t dealt with the nav computer issue. I was able to resurrect the autopilot remote. At least I didn’t have that $2k expense hanging over my head.

I decided to put off the nav computer issue and get ready for the Misty Fjords trip. What followed was 3 days of jaunts to the grocery store, liquor store, chandlery, and several other places I’ve mercifully forgotten. Friday looked good for departure.

More later.

I haven’t included any pics as I didn’t take any of my leg and they would be kinda gross if I had.

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Postscript: I forgot to mention a person who, without even knowing me went out of her way to help me with a chore I had no means of performing by myself. Thank you, Joni. You're an angel.

Oh yeah, I do have a couple pics to post. These things cruise past the boat all day. This one is named after you, Jilly.

Nina to Ketchikan

2010-07-26T14:24:00.000-07:00

We stayed in Nina Cove for two nights. Not only the security of the Cove after the last six days of, shall we say, excitement kept us there. And it certainly is secure. Perfect anchoring properties, 360º enclosure, and geographical location all make for a very snug spot. No, beyond that it is an interesting place to explore with completely different personalities depending on the tide. At low tide it is a rock pile with broad beaches and dry washes separating the islets. At high tide it is deceptively open with navigable water around the islets, only by skiff of course. Fun!

The birds liked the place too. There were four ravens that delighted in chasing each other through the treetops and performing aerial acrobatics the whole time we were there. They didn’t much like us walking the beach though especially Jazz. One of them would follow us along the beach making a raucous racket when ever we were near a particular spot. I was awakened Tuesday morning to what sounded like a loud cocktail party. It was a flock of maybe 25 Canadian geese picking over the mud flats at low water. It was impressive to see them all leap into the air and form up in the characteristic V, flying a few feet above the water, slowly gaining altitude to disappear over the far shore. The ubiquitous alcids, mostly murres and guillemots were floating and diving out in the entrance. There was usually a pair of eagles either soaring over it all or calling to each other from the top of the trees. The only real mar to this was the active clear cut that was mercifully out of sight and far enough away that only the loudest sounds could be heard when it got particularly quiet in the anchorage.

I began to think of where to go from here. The wilderness area set aside east across Cordova Bay on Prince of Wales Island was definitely on the list. I’d had my fill of logging and clear cuts and I was certain there would be none of the former there although it was likely there would be older cuts. Equally distant to the north was the town of Hydaburg, I was running low on a few things and had been out of touch with family and friends for awhile. I figured I could take care of both things, see the town and then head south. I plotted the route and readied the boat for departure in the morning.

We didn’t get away until 12:30. The weather was overcast with a 12-15 knot wind blowing out of the NW. The 5 hour slog up Tlevak Strait seemed long with the drone of the engine and no help from the sails in the headwinds. It was nice to turn NE into South Pass and get some drive from the Dacron. We were tied to the dock in Hydaburg a little after 7.

It was a big disappointment to find that my cell phone didn’t work and no internet connection was available. So much for half of why I was here. Thursday morning I walked into town. I stopped by City Hall to let the harbor master know we were there. I asked if there was a fee for staying. He said no, not until they had performed some repairs and improvements. I chuckled to myself, thinking of the sorry condition the docks were in and that replacement not repair was what was needed. He did mention that some master carvers were working on four new totem poles and that I was welcome to go take a look. I headed there.

The red cedar aroma was detectable a block away. I followed my nose to a warehouse at the head of the cannery dock with a carving of an orca in front. Inside were two older fellows wielding tools and rendering cedar logs into amazing art. They invited me to wander around and see what they had already done. I’ll let the pictures speak.

I was able to get a couple of the items I was low on from the local market so that part of my trip to Hydaburg was successful but I saw no point in extending my stay. I made plans to leave with the tide in the morning.

Friday morning brought a partly cloudy day with light and variable winds. Motoring south in Sukkwan Strait we passed a freighter being loaded with round logs. Admittedly, I’m no expert on the finances of the logging industry but I hate to see the export of round logs. The only logging in Southeast is on native lands performed by logging companies on behalf of the native tribes that own the land and resources through their corporations. It seems to me that that is similar to eating the seed corn. Maybe the native corporations are maximizing their return by contracting the logging and exporting the round logs to Asia, but it takes more than 70 years to be able to log those lands again and some value added milling to the timber would provide a bit more employment to their members than a few long shoring jobs loading the occasional freighter. End of rant.

The winds remained light throughout our trip to Max Cove in the Southern Prince of Wales Wilderness Area. I tossed the crab pot over on our way into the anchorage. After the hook was set Jazz and I went ashore for our usual “exploration”. By this time the clouds had burned away making for a beautiful afternoon in a beautiful cove. Back on board, I fixed a G & T and relaxed in the sun on the foredeck.

I was awakened the next morning by howling and barking. The sunlight was streaming through the portlights as I made my way up on deck. The wild noises were coming from the forest right behind the beach Jazz and I were on the previous afternoon. I watched for a good fifteen minutes after the last barking bout but never saw the animals—wolves judging from the sounds. Jazz’ hackles were up the whole time.

We decided that beach should probably be left for the wild life. The correct choice as that afternoon a black bear decided to root around in the grass on it. I got a couple of pictures from the boat but it was a long shot. I jumped in the skiff and idled closer. The bear heard the motor but couldn’t see me for the sun reflecting off the water. He went back to what he was doing until I shut off the motor about 150 yards away. He could see me by this time and he turned, ambling into the forest. We didn’t visit that beach again.

The weather forecast Sunday morning was for SCA outside, 10 knots building to 20 knots in the afternoon for Dixon Entrance. Monday sounded good for Clarence Strait. I began evaluating the anchorages on the south end of Prince of Wales Island. Minnie Bay looked good on the chart but the Pilot recommended local knowledge for the entrance. Nichols Bay was closer to Cape Chacon but not as sheltered. I decided to head for Minnie Bay, taking a look at the entrance when I got there, traveling on to Nichols if it didn’t look good. I plotted the route.

The routine for getting underway from on the hook has evolved to these steps: start the engine, turn on the depth finder and autopilot, turn on the radar if it’s foggy, move the monitor to the cabin top and set up the nav program to display on both the laptop and the monitor, pull the anchor, and go. I got to the nav setup and saw that the laptop screen was dark. Arg. I determined that the LCD wasn’t working. OK, down to just the monitor. I could live with that.

The day dawned overcast and had only gotten worse as far as ceiling and visibility. But the winds were light and the sea was flat. Our route took us south in Klakas Inlet, Cordova Bay, and Eureka Channel, then southeast to Minnie Bay. The turn to the SE at Mexico Point brought us into the weather environment of Dixon Entrance and Dixon Entrance wasn’t having a particularly good day, 15-20 knots SE 5-6 foot seas. Oh, and did I forget to mention the rain squalls? Yeah, those too.

We got to the entrance at Minnie Bay about an hour before low tide. Kelp beds were everywhere. Although we were in the lee of PoW Island, the occasional 3-4 footer would roll through. I probably would have tried it if it had been after low tide but I just wasn’t willing to take a chance of having to sit on a rock for two hours in that swell. We pressed on to Nichols Bay.

The route I plotted took us around the east side of Bean Island avoiding Bert Millar Cutoff another local knowledge situation. But the conditions in the Entrance were worsening. The weather was now on our starboard bow at a steady 20 gusting to almost 30 with a short sea at 6-8 feet. I reread what the Coast Pilot had to say: 1 ¾ fathoms controlling depth, very narrow channel only 10 yards wide. But by that time the tide had been flooding for over an hour and the route cut off an hour to the anchorage including a nasty turn to the north through the trough. I decided to try it.

It was a huge relief to gain the lee of Bean Island. Short lived however. The approach to the Cutoff looked like a big kelp bed, ending in a jumble of rocks that didn’t really look passable. The scare box had rocketed up from hundreds of feet to 30 feet and shallower as we approached. Finally I could see the channel. Narrow, narrow, narrow. Narrower than the entrance to the head of Cedar Bay in Prince William Sound and definitely narrower than Boat Harbor’s in Lynn Canal. I throttled back to dead slow ahead but with the flooding current we were still making a couple of knots, certainly fast enough to bend metal. I wasn’t breathing as the bottom rose to 12 feet, then 10, then 9. It held at 7.6 for several seconds then began dropping away. I began to breathe again. We were through.

Not quite, actually. The bay on the other side was the place where the Pilot recommended local knowledge. I had carefully plotted a course around the charted rocks but soon found the chart to be woefully incomplete. At least four times I had to back down hard to avoid uncharted reefs.

Eventually we made it out into Nichols Bay and to the first of the three recommended anchorages in the Bay. There was a motor cruiser already anchored there. I wasn’t sure how big the anchorage was so I began surveying for a spot. It was deep, 10-11 fathoms. I moved closer in to the shore where the chart said it was supposed to be 6 fathoms. I couldn’t find anything shallower than 9 fathoms. I tried to anchor in a spot that the video sounder indicated was likely to be mud but the anchor wouldn’t bite. With the wind blowing through the anchorage at 8-10 knots this wasn’t going to work. I picked up the anchor and moved to the second indicated anchorage in the Bay.

As we rounded the corner I was disappointed to see yet another very large motor cruiser in the anchorage. I guess I’ve gotten spoiled having had almost all the anchorages I’ve been in the last three months to myself. This one was big enough to have as a dinghy an 18 foot aluminum speed boat with twin outboards. Again I began the search for a suitable spot and once again found it to be deep. I finally found a place near the shore in 48 feet. The anchor set but I could drag it with full throttle. However the spot was completely sheltered from the wind. It would have to do.

I was bummed to see that I had forgotten to close the forward hatch after yesterday’s sunny air out. Everything below and aft of the hatch was saltwater soaked. The next several hours were spent checking everything wet and fresh-water rinsing what could be rinsed. The sleeping bag and cushions would have to wait.

After a somewhat sleepless night I got out of bed at 6. We were underway by 7. The day was overcast but had the look that it would burn off. The winds were light as we motored down the Bay and into Dixon Entrance. I was happy to see the 1-2 foot chop instead of the eight-footers we had yesterday. The twenty-five mile run from Cape Chacon to Ryus Bay on Duke Island was uneventful. By 9:30, the clouds had burned away and by 11 there was a wind on our beam. I set both the main and the genoa but we slowed to 2 knots when I shut off the engine. I fired it back up and we motorsailed the rest of the way to our anchorage.

It was nice to get a good set on the first try. I pulled all the wet stuff from the fore peak and set it out to dry. Next was launching the skiff and getting Jazz to the beach. He wasn’t able to in Nichols Bay and I could tell from the look on his face as he peed for over a minute what he was thinking. I’m somewhat immune to guilt trips though, so his look of reproach didn’t have much effect.

Getting back to the boat I was pleasantly surprised to discover I had a cell signal. No voice-mails though. Two and a half weeks out of pocket and no one had called. I began calling friends and family to let them know I was still walking the planet.

The good weather only lasted through Monday. Tuesday was overcast and Wednesday the wind piped up from the SE, gusting to 20 in the anchorage. It didn’t let up until Wednesday night. Thursday looked good for the 30 mile run up to Ketchikan so I made the boat ready for a morning departure.

As forecast, it was dead flat calm when I got the skiff aboard. When I turned on the autopilot it began beeping and flashing gibberish on the display. Oh sh#t! The autopilot is the most important device aboard as it allows me to do things other than stand behind the wheel and steer. I turned it off then back on: same thing. I went up to find the remote sitting in a puddle, totally soaked. I took the cover off and knocked it against my hand in an attempt to get the water away from whatever it was messing with: no go. I tried turning it on with out the remote and it seemed to work. I took the remote below, blew it out with the compressor and set it open in the warm engine room to dry. Sometimes I really hate boats.

Nothing else broke and we made it to Bar Point Harbor, Ketchikan by a quarter til 2.

This is getting long and I have a bunch of pictures to post so I will finish it later.

The pics: low tide in Nina Cove, 6 hours later, exploring Nina Cove by skiff, totem carving in Hydaburg, Captain Jack Sparrow’s craft, enjoying a drink on a sunny day in Max Cove, a black bear, Bert Millar Cutoff, Ryus Bay.

Dall Island oh my

2010-07-03T20:14:00.000-07:00

We’re in Ketchikan and have been for over a week. It’s raining and blowing SE. James Cotton is on the stereo. Time to see if I can get this thing up to date.

We left Craig about 2:30 on Sunday the 6^th of June. As soon as we cleared the dock I raised the main, hoping to take advantage of the 10-15 knot NW afternoon sea breeze. Our destination was Hole in the Wall, a sheltered bight off Divers Bay on the west coast of Dall Island. Since it was less than 25 miles away by shortest route I decided to detour into Port St Nicholas where I could get pictures of Karl and Jeri’s gorgeous house. It was a fun downwind run to their dock and then a beat back out to Bucareli Bay. Gaining Bucareli Bay I set the genoa and turned off the engine. We beam reached all the way to Ulloa Passage making 6-7 knots. What pleasure!

It was interesting to finally see Waterfall Resort, a converted cannery. They began the conversion when I was living in Petersburg. I had done some radio work for them but never made it out to actually see it. What an operation. Besides the old cannery buildings there were 25 or so cabins and probably 30 or more aluminum high speed fishing boats tied up at their marina. The rest of the way to Hole in the Wall was unremarkable. We were anchored on the second try a little before nine.

What a pretty spot. We ended up spending two nights. I got a chance to try my new crab pot a couple times. Unfortunately all I caught was a starfish. Jazz and I explored several beaches both on the inside and out in Divers Bay.

I really wanted to go down the outside of Dall Island mainly because of its remoteness but also because it hadn’t been logged as thoroughly as the east coast. The issue was a SE gale forecasted to hit Thursday night. What it meant was that the next anchorage had to be secure enough to weather the coming gale. I took a look at the options and decided on Port Bazan about a 25 mile run down the coast. It had a mud bottom and was closer to Cape Muzon, the southern tip of Dall Island, than my second choice, Waterfall Bay. I prepared the boat for an early departure.

The skiff was aboard and the anchor up by 8:30 Wednesday. The forecast for the day called for a small craft advisory due to seas with 8 foots seas and 15 knots NW building to 20 knots in the afternoon. With the early departure and the 10 knot wind I raised the main all the way up as we motored west across Divers Bay. Once we were able to turn SE the wind was as predicted with 8-10 foot seas. Two hours later the wind had built to 20-25 knots, more than I’m comfortable with, solo sailing with an unreefed main. We had been running with Otto steering but our yaw rate was becoming dangerous. Just as I was turning off the autopilot to take the helm we suffered an accidental jibe. The boom swung across snapping the upper block on the boom vang with a loud crack. It also broke loose the two 15 gallon fuel jugs that were now shifting and rolling around the mast. We were still 30-40 minutes to the entrance to Port Bazan and shelter.

To further elevate the stress level, I wasn’t exactly certain of the location of the entrance. Finally I just trusted what the nav computer was saying and steered for the mark I had placed outside the channel. It was a huge relief to sail into the lee of the entrance when it eventually opened up. As we negotiated the channel leading into the port I spied another amphibious deer out for a swim.

Twenty minutes later we were “surveying” for a suitable spot to anchor. But it was deep everywhere it wasn’t rocky. If the bottom is mud and the weather is settled, I can sleep with a 3:1 scope, that is, 3 feet of rode for one foot of depth. I can get away with that because Blue Note’s rode is 3/8” chain and the anchor is big. But in stormy conditions I like to have at least a 4:1 or better yet a 5:1 scope. The rode is 160 feet but it has been spliced with an oversized link that doesn’t easily pass through the hawse pipe, limiting it to a little over 100 feet. I tried anchoring in a place that had 20-25 feet of water but it was rocky and the anchor shifted as the boat swung. Not good. We reanchored in about 45 feet and got a good set backing down on it. I wasn’t totally comfortable with it but the wind wasn’t supposed to pipe up for another 18-24 hours. I figured I’d check out other areas in the morning.

About 5 in the morning I was awakened by a loud gust of wind accompanied by a 15 degree roll! I leaped out of the bunk, pulled on a shirt and started the engine on my way to the cockpit. The wind was howling out of the west at 30-40 knots and we looked like we were dragging the anchor. I jumped down and flipped the nav computer on to confirm. Sure enough, we were 200 feet from our original spot and slowly but surely moving down wind. I went back topside, put the boat in gear dead slow ahead and set the autopilot to steer us into the wind while I ran back down to my cabin to put on pants and shoes.

The wind had moderated to about 25 knots and gusty when I got up on deck. I went forward and retrieved the anchor. Now where? I was stuck with Port Bazan as the conditions outside were bound to be nasty. I decided to take a look at the extreme head of the bay. We headed there.

We rounded the point marking the entrance and immediately were in a lee, a hopeful development. We criss-crossed the head watching the video sounder for rocks, bottom type, and swinging room. I finally picked out a spot in about 18 feet and what looked to be a mud bottom. I set the boat into the wind dead slow astern and went forward to deploy the anchor. After all the rode was out I got back to the cockpit and backed down hard. The anchor set with a satisfying jerk. For better or worse we were anchored. It was 6:44 Thursday morning.

We stayed more or less in that spot for four days. The peak measured gust occurred Friday night and was 44 knots out of the SW. Most of the time it blew out of the south but there wasn’t a direction it didn’t blow from at some point. Sometimes it would stop for as much as an hour. Jazz spent most of the time sleeping. I napped in my clothes the first night waking every ½ hour or so but relaxed as it became apparent we weren’t going anywhere. I spent my time reading and doing crosswords. I ran the engine 2-3 times a day to charge the batteries and for heat since it was too windy to fire up the heater.

You would think that at least we could experience the wilderness even though the conditions were less than optimal. Wrong. Apparently the land surrounding Port Bazan is owned by a native corporation as there was an active clear cut underway, replete with the howl of chainsaws, the hoot of the horn on the highline, the growl of Jacob brakes on the logging trucks, and the angry buzz of the Hughes 500 helicopter coming daily to check on the job. This only when the wind abated enough that these sounds could be heard over the scream of the wind in the rigging. Never-the-less we did get ashore at least twice a day for Jazz, but I was loathe to stay for long with the boat unattended.

Monday dawned partly cloudy with light winds. Time to go finally. The Dixon-Entrance-to-Cape-Decision forecast was for variable winds to 10 knots but once again a SCA was posted for seas to 10 feet. We’d been there before. Our destination was Nina Cove on the east side of Long Island on the west side of Cordova Bay about 35 miles. I decided to wait until we were outside in open water to raise sail having been burned before. We were underway before 9.

For once the conditions were pretty much as predicted. The problem with the conditions was the seas. Without much wind there was no stabilizing effect of the sail. We got hammered. After two hours of violent motion and vandals I looked for shelter. I opted for Security Bay.

Once again it was with much relief when we got into the shelter of the Bay. Once again the problem was where to anchor. There really aren’t any-too deep right up to the shore line. I remembered Mike in Craig mentioning that the bight just inside and to the north of the entrance could be used for a temporary anchorage. We headed there.

After a questionable anchor set I paused to take stock. We couldn’t stay where we were, at least not with getting rest. I set about securing everything that had come loose that morning. After a little more than three hours we were ready to brave the outside once again. Before retrieving the anchor I set the main with two reefs. We got underway.

The rest of the day’s travel was very pleasant. The wind had built to 15 knots NW and the seas had moderated to 8 feet from 8-10 feet. We rounded Cape Muzon and proceeded north up Cordova Bay with 2 foot seas once we had gained the lee of Cape Muzon. The sail to Nina Cove was actually fun. We were anchored in the Cove by 8:30.

I’m going to post this and continue with the narrative tomorrow. The pics are the ¼ mile long dock to the beach in Craig, Karl and Jeri’s place, crossing Bucareli Bay, Waterfall Resort, the entrance to Hole in the Wall, the amphibious deer, our neighborhood in Port Bazan, the approach to Cape Muzon.

Wrangell to Craig

2010-06-06T12:51:00.000-07:00

We’re in Craig on the west coast of Prince of Wales Island. Got here a week ago last Sunday. And as usual I’m well into planning a departure and am waay behind in making this current.

We spent almost five days in Wrangell. Although I didn’t see my friend Mark, I did see George and met his wife Stephanie. It was good to see him. From that high point I’m trying to decide which event ranks next. In the running are mediocre pizza at the Marine Bar, a visit to both grocery stores, and … I’m being uncharitable to Wrangell and it isn’t justified. The weather was great and I had a blast riding the bike all over even though it’s now down to one gear.

We left on Thursday at 6 in the morning in flat calm conditions and partly cloudy skies. The early departure was predicated on reaching the tidal midpoint of Wrangell Narrows at high tide. I greatly underestimated our SOG however and we got to Green Point an hour and a half before high tide. In spite of bucking into the flood for the last hour we arrived in Petersburg by 1:30.

Little Norway Days or Mayfest as it has apparently come to be known by is a celebration Petersburg undertakes around May 17th, Norwegian Independence Day. This year the 17th fell on a Monday so whoever decides these things for Petersburg, probably the Chamber of Comix or maybe the Rotorooters, decreed the festivities begin on Thursday the 13th and conclude on Sunday the 16th. I wonder if the Norwegians celebrate their independence day by dressing up as Vikings and wander around downtown serving ‘warrants’ and imprisoning residents in a rustic compound amidst a ‘beer garden’. It was a good time, though. There was a variety of food booths and it’s always fun to be able to walk around drinking beer. I ran into several old friends at the Sunday fish cook out at Sandy Beach. Saturday was rainy but otherwise the weather was good.

The rest of the stay was spent doing chores: filling water tanks, grocery and liquor runs, laundry, etc. We finally left Wednesday afternoon. It was a beautiful three hour motor down the Narrows to Beecher Pass where we anchored up behind Keene Island.

Thursday was overcast with little wind. As we approached Duncan Canal the wind began to build out of the north to the point that when we turned south out of Beecher Pass it was blowing 10-12 knots. I waited until we were in Sumner Strait before coming up into the wind to put up the main. Miss Mercedes rested. We reached west across Sumner Strait on starboard tack until abeam Clarence Strait where the wind shifted to a reach on port tack almost all the way to Point Baker. We were tied to the state float in Point Baker before 1PM.

Point Baker is different from the other villages in Southeast I’ve visited. Tenakee, Elfin Cove, Pelican, Port Alexander, Baranof, even Funter have public uplands or boardwalks you can walk on. Not so, Point Baker. The restaurant, bar, laundry, store, fuel, post office, and fire house are all on floats and tied to the inside of the state float. There’s a rather unwelcoming sign on the gate that blocks access at the top of the ramp. Having seen Point Baker I made plans to leave in the morning.

The next morning as the engine was warming for departure I met Herb who apparently owns most of Point Baker. He’s very charming and we had a very pleasant conversation. After, as I was untying from the dock, I realized Herb probably had something to do with the sign that had such a negative effect on my impression of Point Baker.

We motored out into Sumner Strait under cloudy skies and calm wind. The track I had plotted detoured into Port Protection which is right around the corner from Point Baker. I wanted to see the village. We made a slow circle in the bight where the state float is. It didn’t have a ramp to the beach and all the other floats that did were private. Point Baker redux. We continued south. The wind was very fluky all morning never above 5 knots but predominately out of the west. There were whale spouts but they were all pretty far off.

Our destination for the night was behind the islands in Shaken Bay. My first track had us transiting Shaken Strait all the way around and anchoring in Calder Bay. This is the usual route through Shaken Bay and is recommended by the Coast Pilot. Instead we took the route between Middle and Divide Islands and anchored behind Divide Island.

By this time the wind had built to 20 knots. I was very confident of the set of the anchor but I wanted to see if there might be an anchorage more sheltered from the wind so after Jazz’s beach patrol we went exploring in the skiff. There weren’t any including Calder and by the time we got back to the boat the wind was dying.

Dry Pass at the north end of El Capitan Passage is much like Rocky Pass, narrow and shallow but much shorter. Our departure a little after 7 in the morning allowed us to transit on a rising tide and a favorable current and we arrived at the Forest Service dock below El Capitan Cave by 9AM.

I’m not a caver and didn’t know about El Capitan Cave until an acquaintance in Sitka told me about it, but it had a dock and I’m always interested in a cheap and easy means to get ashore. Jazz and I hiked up to the information kiosk-closed, and the outhouses-open. I didn’t know how far the cave mouth was so we just continued on. The trail quickly became stairs and 200-300 feet in elevation later we were standing in front of the cave mouth. I was wearing Teva sandals and had the little pen flashlight I carry in my jacket so I only ventured far enough in to where my penlight was overwhelmed, not very far.

We were underway by 11. The clouds had pretty much left by the time we made the turn to the south at Aneskett Point. The winds were calm for the remainder of the Passage but abeam Tenass Pass they were 8-10 knots SSW. It came and went as we wove our way among the islands northeast of Sea Otter Sound. It was still sunny in Tuxecan Passage but the wind freshened to 20 knots on the nose and low clouds blanketed the south. We were under the clouds when we got to our anchorage in Kaguk Cove. We were only partially sheltered from the winds but the water was flat and the anchor was deep in the mud.

Sunday morning was drizzly and calm. It remained calm until we turned south behind Harmony Island where the wind picked up to 6-8 knots out of the south of course. By the time we were behind Culebra and Saint Phillip Islands breaks in the clouds began to appear and the run through San Christoval Channel and across San Alberto Bay was under the sun. We were tied to the dock in Craig by 3:30.

We’ve been here two weeks. It doesn’t seem possible it has been that long. I did reconnect with my friends Karl and Jeri. They had me out to their beautiful house for a delicious salmon and venison dinner. Karl introduced me to a couple of his harbor buddies and one of them took us out to Noyes Island one afternoon. I’ve met several sailboaters both local and transient. The days have flown by.

One of the reasons for the delay in leaving has been the weather. We’ve had gales on the outside (where I intend to go) kicking up 12-15 foot seas all last week. We got some of the wind and a little of the rain but for the most part the weather here at the dock has been pleasant.

Another of the reasons for the departure delay is that this area is very attractive physically. The geography is clumps of wooded islands, small and large, separated by open bays and sounds making for very interesting and scenic boating. One drawback is the extensive logging that has scalped a lot of the hills. Still, it’s a pretty spot and I’ve been having some difficulty deciding where to go.

So, where to? My plan is to go down the outside of Dall Island, hook around Cape Muzon, and head northeast through Cordova Bay, then down and around Cape Chacon, up the east side of Prince of Wales and over to Ketchikan. How long? Weather and whim will tell. One thing is certain and that’s that cell and wifi are sparse to non-existent so I’ll be out of touch for a while.

The pics: some residents of Wrangell, Mayfest 2010, sailing in Sumner, the sign in Pt Baker (I think this guy got the same dictionary as the fellow in Sitkoh Bay), a couple of Pt Baker, a deer swimming from Divide to Middle Island, Dry Pass, El Cap Cave, the stairs to the cave, ¼ mile long dock Craig north harbor, south harbor.

Chatham and Keku

2010-05-19T09:40:00.000-07:00

What a run up Chatham Strait! We left Port Alexander under mostly cloudy skies and light winds. The seas were 2-3 feet with the occasional 4 footer out of the south. The forecast was for northerlies to 15 knots. My plan was to make for Warm Spring Bay 55 miles away depending on the conditions. I figured if the winds didn’t cooperate we could put in to any one of a number of good anchorages on the way.

Coming abeam Point Conclusion the winds were out of the northwest at about 5 knots. The batteries were low after almost two days at the dock in PA so I didn’t mind the light winds and Miss Mercedes grinding away. But wind is wind and these winds weren’t on the nose. I set the main and got almost a knot. As we moved past Port Conclusion the wind backed to the ENE. I let Otto steer and trimmed the main to the shifts. It proved to be the predominate pattern, with the wind more northerly as we approached one of the deep fjord/canyons indenting the east coast of Baranof Island, then shifting to the east as we went past.

To take advantage of the flood current and minimize the wind shifts I altered course out towards the middle of the Strait. Blue Note has two speed indicators: one is a paddlewheel under the hull, the other is the GPS. The GPS shows SOG, Speed Over Ground, which is the speed you are realizing along the track. The paddlewheel or more properly the speed log shows the speed of the hull through the water. The difference between the readings indicates the effect current is making on your progress. At the peak of the flood, the speed log was 1.5 knots below SOG, indicating a knot and a half boost to our forward progress.

Toward late morning the wind had freshened to 8-10 then 10-15 with gusts to 20. I unrolled the genoa. As I trimmed it in the engine began to pick up speed as the sails took the load. I watched the SOG as I throttled the engine back. It dropped from 8.2 to 7.5 at idle. I shut it off in spite of the low batteries. Aah quiet. Well not really. But bliss for sure. The wind in the rigging, the burble of the wake, and the intermittent grunt of Otto’s pump moving the rudder to keep us on course combined with 7-8 knots of speed made for a wonderful three hours.

As the day wore on the wind began to die. Reaching the mid point of the joining of Chatham Strait and Frederick Sound the tide changed. We had been motor-sailing for several hours making 5-6 knots and charging the batteries. I knew that as the ebbing current increased we would be fighting it under motor alone. I tucked in close to shore to minimize the current effect. Good call. There were several pods of humpbacks fishing in the area and the clouds had gone for the most part. We were alongside the dock in Baranof by 8 PM, having averaged almost 6 knots for the run!

We spent five days in Baranof. The good weather and great company kept us tied to the float. The days were spent soaking in the spring, hiking to the lake, meeting new friends, and in general just hanging out. I had already met John on the S/V Sara. He was busy moving back into his house in Baranof. I met Dave and Anke on the S/V Slacktide. They had just finished 7 months of caretaking the Baranof Wilderness Lodge and were readying their boat, a junk-ketch-rigged sailing barge for a summer cruise. Tom on a Roberts 38 was headed up to Glacier Bay to work as a pilot boat operator for the summer. The M/V Explorer IV, a 60 foot motor yacht crewed by a bunch of fun-loving Canadians from Whitehorse passed through on their way to Skagway.

As the days slipped by I began to rethink my next route and destination. Those of you who have been following this blog know my planned route from here was the reverse of the route I took when I left Petersburg last November, i.e., back through Frederick Sound. From there I planned to go down through the Wrangell Narrows to Wrangell. When I looked at the calendar I realized that if I reversed destinations and went to Wrangell first I would be in Petersburg for Little Norway Days, a fun time to be in Petersburg.

The shortest route to Wrangell goes through Rocky Pass in Keku Strait. My 2008 edition of Charlie’s Charts, a popular inside passage cruising guide says that Rocky Pass cannot be used because the navigation aids have all been removed. But my ten year old charts and six year old Coast Pilot Vol. 8 both show and describe the Pass in close detail. All the captains I talked to in Baranof had gone through several times, Tom on the Roberts and Craig on the Explorer IV just in the last day or two. They all said the nav aids were still there and that it was no problem. I pulled out the tide book.

Rocky Pass is the narrowest and shallowest section of Keku Strait, a N-S body of water separating Keku and Kupreanof Islands and connecting Frederick Sound to Sumner Strait. It shares tidal current characteristics with other N-S narrow channels: both flood and ebb tides flow to and from a center point from each end. The trick becomes arriving at that center point at high slack. That way you ride the flood tide current to the center point then ride the ebb current out the other end. There is a downside to this plan.

According to the Coast Pilot the center point is at various points between High Island and Summit Island. If you are travelling south and arrive at the tidal center point at high tide, you are on a falling tide when you get to Devil’s Elbow, a little over 2 miles south. Devil’s Elbow is a right angle turn where the channel is quite narrow and swinging wide or cutting the corner is not advised. I wanted the cushion of a rising tide through the Elbow in case I got stuck in the mud and was willing to sacrifice having to buck the current for a couple of miles to have it.

Further research revealed Stedman Cove to be a suitable layover anchorage. I plotted a route to there: 44 miles. A check of the tide book indicated a departure of a little before noon on Thursday would allow us to ride the ebb down to Point Gardiner, then the flood all the way to Stedman, arriving before dark. A plan with a departure time set I went next door to the Explorer IV to have dinner with the Canadians.

What a good time! Bombay Sapphire G & Ts, an excellent red, and one of the best steaks I’ve had in a long time complemented great conversation. One of the guys shared a similar work history with me and pretty soon we were swapping helicopter exploits and radio stories. One thirty came in no time. Good thing the sailing board was set for noon.

I missed Thursday’s dawn but it was nice by the time I rolled out of the bunk. After saying good bye to all my new friends and readying the boat for departure we left. I raised the main as we motored upwind down the Bay. The forecast was for northwest winds to 10 knots in both southern Chatham Strait and Frederick Sound. Turning the corner into Chatham Strait we got 10 knots out of the south. The wind lasted until we got to Point Gardiner then died. We motored across Frederick Sound with the wind filling in slowly from the northwest behind us. By the time we reached Cornwallis Point it was barely enough to keep the sails full. Two hours later we were at the entrance to Stedman Cove.

There are pitfalls to using electronic chart programs. One of them is that you are rarely looking at the whole chart. I am almost always looking at a small portion centered on where the GPS has located the boat. Even when I zoom out, I’m either not looking at things like the title area or the text is too small to read. With NOAA Chart 17372, this is a mistake. Unlike almost every other NOAA chart I’ve used, the soundings on 17372 are in feet instead of fathoms.

Imagine my surprise when after getting a little off course entering Stedman Cove the scare box was showing 10 feet. I looked at the chart and the boat was next to a 6. In a flash it dawned on me that the soundings were in feet! It explained why the Coast Pilot described the anchorage depth in feet instead of fathoms. Luck jumps to the rescue of stupidity again. We lived.

It probably doesn’t need to be said that with my increased knowledge of Chart 17372, I went back over my plotted route through the Pass that night. I always plot the deepest route so I didn’t change it by much but I did gain new respect for the morning’s navigational task.

Friday started out with clouds covering most of the sky but the forecast was for partly cloudy turning to partly sunny. The anchor was aboard by 6:30 and we were on our way. I had come up with the departure time based on a SOG of 4 knots. Once we were out in the channel I realized I had underestimated the effect of the flooding current. At the usual RPM setting we were making 5.5-6 knots. I throttled back, not wanting to be going that fast if I made a wrong turn.

There were a lot of turns. The route I had plotted had 85 course changes between Stedman Cove and Eagle Island. Remembering the horror stories I used to hear when I lived in Petersburg along with the comment in the Coast Pilot about the uncharted hazards on the edges of the channel, I really wanted to stay in the channel.

After a couple of hours, I relaxed enough to not panic when I saw 12-15 feet on the box or jagged brown rocks close enough to spit on. The bird life was intense. I spotted a harbor seal and a couple of river otters but not much else. The winds were calm and the clouds were clearing.

The approach to Devil’s Elbow from the north is on an easterly course across a reef that ranges from 6 to12 feet deep at mean lower low water. We were 20 minutes before high slack water. The box was indicating 15-25 feet on the approach. The turn to the south was easy to discern from the two green daymarks and a red can and we cruised right through.

We were out of Rocky Pass by a little after ten. I put Otto to work and began looking for an anchorage for the night. Red Bay looked to be a good one so I plotted a route to its mouth. The wind had picked up to 10 knots south. I set the main and we reached across Sumner Strait.

The entrance to Red Bay was a reprise of the morning’s activities but much shorter. We were anchored in the outer bay by 3:30. I launched the skiff and took Jazz to the beach. When we got back to the boat I decided to re-anchor in the back bay. I wasn’t comfortable with the way the anchor had set and the spot was open to the westerly wind that was blowing 10-12 knots. We moved. I felt much better when the anchor set in the gray mud with a satisfying jerk. After dinner Jazz and I explored the bay in the skiff. Back on board I had a G & T and watched the sun go down from the foredeck.

Saturday morning was gorgeous, the bay a huge mirror. We had a leisurely morning getting ready for departure, our destination Wrangell, a little more than 38 miles away. By the time the anchor was in its chock the wind had picked up to about 10-12 knots. I raised the main hoping to at least motor-sail through Sumner Strait. Alas, the wind died once we were out in the Strait and didn’t really help our progress all day. But it was warm and clear with big cumulonimbus clouds hanging over the islands. We were tied to the transient float in Wrangell’s north harbor by 6 PM.

The pics are the sailboats in Warm Spring Bay, a particularly narrow spot in Rocky Pass near the Summit, looking back after transiting Devil’s Elbow, the intrepid crew enjoying the sunset in Red Bay, the huge mirror, clouds over Zarembo Island, and the approach to Wrangell.

Port Alexander

2010-04-30T20:57:00.000-07:00

Friday. Rain and fog, mid 40s, light wind.

We’re tied to the State float in Port Alexander, having arrived yesterday afternoon. Gale warnings are posted for Chatham Strait. The heater is on, the cabin is cozy warm. Quicksilver Messenger Service is on the stereo. I just popped a bowl of Orville’s and opened a beer. Time to update the blog.

We left Sitka a little after 2 on Tuesday. A warm and partly cloudy day promised a pleasant trip. The winds were light but I was assured by a local that it would be blowing “out front.” As we cleared the breakwater and entered the Western Channel the wind died completely. All that remained were the long greasy swells rolling into the Sound from the west. The partly cloudy day turned to mostly cloudy then overcast. By the time we were in the lee of Biorka Island it was raining steadily. So much for promises and assurances.

Mercifully our anchorage at Goddard Hot Springs was only 16 miles from Sitka so we weren’t in it for very long. In fact the rain died as we entered the bight in front of the bathhouses. After the anchor was down I launched the skiff, loaded a towel and a change of clothes, and Jazz and I headed to the beach.

There are two identical bathhouses, each having a large oaken tub, filled by a hot water pipe and a cold water pipe. The water in the lower house was tepid with no flow out of the hot pipe. We hiked to the upper house. Wow, talk about hot! Try as I might I couldn’t get in. I couldn’t even leave my feet in for very long. Where’s the Goldilocks tub? I ended up draining about six inches out and turning off the hot water. After about 20 minutes I was finally able to enter it. Aah the miracle of hot water.

Well after I reached prune status I got out, got dressed and hiked back down the hill. On the way I spotted where one of the hoses had come apart at a joint. I pulled as much slack as I could and stuck them back together. By the time we got to the lower house water was flowing from the hot pipe.

The next morning Jazz and I checked the lower bathhouse. Yup, it too was now too hot to handle. Good deed done, we got back to the boat, loaded up the skiff and were on our way.

The forecast for the outside waters from Cape Decision to Cape Edgecumbe was for 10 knot westerlies, 8 foot seas, with a Small Craft Advisory posted due to seas. As promised, the wind was out of the west as we left Hot Springs Bay. In anticipation of a reach down the coast I set the main. But the joke was on me as with every turn through the rock pile to the south the wind was on the nose. There was a west swell but the seas could better be described as confused with a wind chop out of the south combined with the backwash off the rocks and islets.

The day however was warm and sunny. At one point we heaved-to to watch the humpbacks bubblefish. The motion was too rough though and the whales too far off for photography so we continued on.

My friend Carl on the F/V Last Dance had recommended Still Harbor just inside the southern point of Whale Bay as a good place to stay. We headed there. He was right, it lived up to its name after all the motion outside. But what an entrance. With the 8-foot west swell creating a washing machine like effect right at the mouth, followed by the serpentine course through the rocks, I could have made diamonds out of coal, if you know what I mean.

Thursday had the same forecast as Wednesday. We steeled ourselves for the motion to come. Yup same conditions: confused seas, wind on the nose, sunny and warm. As we angled for Cape Ommaney at Sealion Rocks the wind became favorable. I raised the main. We were still too close to the wind and it was too light to turn off Miss Mercedes, but the stabilizing effect was wonderful.

We shot the gap between Wooded Island and Cape Ommaney, made the five-mile downwind run and here we are at Port Alexander. I checked for cell phone coverage about 2 miles out and had it, but not in the inner bay. :-( I do have a wifi connection but not good enough to upload pictures. They will have to wait, probably for Petersburg.

The forecast for southern Chatham looks good for a morning departure. We are making for Baranof Warm Springs, hopefully to meet up again with Rory on the S/V Complice.

The pics are the full moon over the O'Connell Bridge in Sitka the night before leaving, the anchorage at Goddard Hot Springs, the lower bathhouse, sunset in Still Harbor, the next morning, Cape Ommaney (if you look carefully you can see sea lions hauled out just above the white water), part of the Port Alexander water front, Jazz beatin' feet for the beach.

The captain lives up to his name and other adventures

2010-04-26T20:33:00.000-07:00

Friday. Clear, 48, afternoon sea breeze to 15 knots.

We’re in Sitka. Got here Monday night. All the errands have been run, all the dockside tasks have been performed. All, that is, but updating this.

We got away from the dock in Funter Bay a little after 9. Winds were light and a high, thin overcast diffused the sunlight. As we exited the Bay my cell phone beeped, indicating a voicemail message. The missed-call log showed that Rory on the S/V Complice had just tried to call. I was pleasantly surprised when my return call went through. He said he and another boat, the S/V Allegro were headed to Kalinin Bay on the south side of Salisbury Sound, tomorrow. They were intending to stay a couple of days. I told him I would see what I could do to join them.

My plan was to overnight in Tenakee Springs, spend the next night somewhere in Peril Strait, arriving in Sitka on Friday. I plotted the course to Kalinin Bay: 101 miles. The trick was to find a place to stay the night that would pretty much split the distance in half, making two long but reasonable travel days. After pouring over the Coast Pilot, Sitkoh Bay on the east end of Peril Strait looked like the best candidate. It was 55 miles away and it had a State-maintained floatplane float. It’s not a good idea to tie up to a floatplane float, but I figured since I would be there shortly before sundown and away around 8 the next morning, the chances of interfering with a plane needing to use the float would be minimal.

By late morning the overcast had burned away and the wind had died completely. We motored south down Chatham Strait making 5.5 knots across a mirror-smooth waterway.

Shortly before 8PM the docks at the “village” labeled Chatham on the chart hove into view. There was a dilapidated fuel dock, an even more dilapidated cannery dock and a float with a sign saying, “Private Dock, No Tresspassing.[sic]” No floatplane float. The advantage of a float is that Jazz can get to the beach without my having to launch the skiff. A dock with a fixed deck and a tall skinny ladder is no help. There was a good anchorage a quarter of a mile away but it would have been dark by the time I got the boat anchored and the skiff launched to say nothing of the retrieval time needed in the morning. I decided to tie up to the float, since I was leaving the first thing in the morning and the only tresses I was passing were firmly attached to my head. :-)

Above the float, attached to the ramp was a very well-maintained house, several outbuildings and a not-as–well-maintained house towards the cannery. As dark settled over the Bay no lights were seen anywhere. I figured since no one had come down to protest my action, I was good to go.

Wrong. Three sharp raps on the hull woke me up. Light was streaming through the portlights, the clock read 6:05. I slid the hatch back to face an irate man of indeterminate age. His first words were, “Can’t you read?” pointing at the sign. I’ve found in these situations the least said is best. I let the misspelling go unmentioned. He proceeded to tell me that there was a video camera, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb and that the owner would call the troopers if I wasn’t out of there immediately. I told him it hadn’t appeared that anybody was around and asked him if I could take Jazz to the beach. He rolled his eyes and said I needed to move the boat right now.

We were underway fifteen minutes later. It was a beautiful day, clear, no wind, and blue sky. As we gained the channel in the middle of the bay, a thick fog bank 2½ miles ahead in Peril Strait came into view. I went below, double-checked the waypoints on our route and flipped on the radar.

We emerged from the fog around 11, not having met any other vessels. We were making a little less than 4.5 knots bucking the ebbing tide. My plan had been to leave Sitkoh Bay around 8 which would allow favorable currents most of the way through Peril Strait and hit Sergius Narrows after the peak current. Our forced leave almost two hours early would put us in the narrows right at or slightly before peak current. Oh well. At least it would be assisting us rather than against us.

Whew, what an understatement. We turned out of Adams Channel at Rose Island into pronounced whirlpools and eddies stirred up by the tidal current and into a 20 knot wind blowing out of the west, right on the nose. I took over steering duties from Otto for the 4.5 mile run down to and through the Narrows. Wow, what a sleigh ride. We averaged 7 knots to the Narrows and 9.8 knots going through. It was surreal making that kind of speed with the opposing wind whipping up whitecaps.

I knew with that kind of wind in Peril it was liable to be howling in Salisbury Sound. To prevent a repeat of the monitor swan dive, I unhooked it and stowed it below while the seas were still flat before Kakul Narrows. Sure enough, 25-30 knots with 8 footers rolling in was awaiting us. When I glanced down at the laptop to check my course across the north end of Sinitsin Island the screen was blank! The only recovery was to cycle the power. When I tried to reload the nav program it said it had performed an illegal operation and would close. I loaded my back up program. It showed the rocks off Sinitsin but nothing for Kalinin Bay. About that time Rory called on the VHF to ask if that was me coming out of Peril. He and Teka were just exiting Neva Strait. Perfect timing. Complice led the way into the bay with Blue Note right behind and Allegro following.

After setting the hook, I hustled to get the skiff launched. Jazz was beginning to whine about holding it for so long. We cruised over to see if Teka wanted me to take her dog to the beach as well. No good deed goes unpunished. As soon as we set off, her dog peed in the bottom of the skiff and moments later Jazz let loose with a poop. Sigh.

The rest of the afternoon and evening was delightful. John on the S/V Sara arrived at some point. We had a large predominately Mexican pot luck dinner on the Allegro. Then the instruments came out and the jams were on.

The next day while the others hiked over to Sealion Cove I worked to get the nav computer back on line. I was finally successful. It required reloading the program. Unfortunately I lost all of the routes I had accumulated to this point. Oh well.

Cory and Tom, part of Allegro’s crew had asked if Jazz might want to go on the hike. I knew he did. When he got back to the boat he could barely walk. Poor old guy. It’s sad to be confronted with the fact that a moderate 5 mile hike was too much for this 12 year old dog.

Before noon the next day, both the Allegro and the Sara were underway to Sitka. Rory was headed north to Glacier Bay and the weather outside was not forecasted to be favorable. I was in no hurry to be anywhere so we both stayed put. That afternoon, feeling somewhat restless, I decided to hike over to Sealion Cove. On the way to the beach I stopped at the Complice to let Rory know where I would be. He decided to go along. The weather was perfect for the hike. Sealion Cove has a beautiful sandy beach and while we were there, two right/left beach breaks. With the 3-4 foot surf, I was tempted to get in the water. Discretion and 45 degree water stopped that. By the time we got back to the boats, it was raining lightly.

Sunday the wind came up and kept us both in the bay. We had a tasty minestrone soup for lunch on Complice and buffalo burger tacos on Blue Note for dinner. Jazz recovered from his ordeal and had no problem going to the beach.

The next morning after Jazz and I had gone to the beach in the skiff I decided to run out into Salisbury Sound to see what the conditions were like. Even though the forecast was not very good, the seas were less than 2 feet and the winds were less than 15 knots. We decided to go, Complice north to Lisianski Strait, Blue Note south to Sitka.

The trip back to Sitka was mostly uneventful. I had decided to bypass Olga Strait by going through Hayward Passage instead. In the East Channel I almost hit a rock. Fortunately my luck held and no water was inadvertently let into the boat. We arrived at Thomsen Harbor about 7:30.

So here we are in Sitka once again. I had hoped to spend no more than 2-3 days but there was simply too much to do: water, garbage, laundry, groceries, liquor, oil change, as well as several other errands. The weather is absolutely perfect and is predicted to be so through tomorrow. The problem is I want to spend a couple of days going down the outside of Baranof and storm warnings are posted for Sunday. I also need to update this and install the new VHF radio I just purchased. We will sit tight. Maybe Monday. We’ll see. I think I’ll mosey over to the fuel dock in case the weather guessers are wrong and we can leave earlier.

EDIT: It’s Monday and we are making plans to leave in the morning. We had 55 knot gusts yesterday afternoon and last night. I was thinking about going into the open mic last night, but the winds and horizontal rain preempted. I just paid my harbor bill and will hit the rain locker and market tonight. The next port will be Port Alexander, probably by the weekend.

Pics are our wake in Chatham Strait, passing tresses in Sitkoh Bay, tide rips in Peril Strait, buoy at Sergius Narrows, the fleet in Kalinin Bay, Captain Rory, yours truly at Sealion Cove, flamingoes in Alaska??

The Lynn Canal Adventure

2010-04-20T18:14:00.000-07:00

We are tied to the State float in Funter Bay. I’m listening to Steely Dan and feeling guilty for not having updated this sooner.

It’s been quite a week. We were in Skagway when I left off. Monday was clear, dry, but somewhat breezy. I decided I should break out the bike and go exploring. I had purchased a new seat for it while in Juneau and figured no time like the present to put it on. Of course the bolt holding the old one on had assumed it would never have to part with its nut. It took some persuading but I finally disabused it of its wrong-headed idea.

Skagway is the northernmost town in Southeast and it has a road connection. As such, it has become the turn around point for the large cruise ships that ply the inside passage. Consequently, the cruise ship owner companies dominate it. The main street is lined with quaint storefronts reminiscent of the look of a hundred years ago but with a Disneyesque flavor. Most, like 95% of them, are closed, not to open until May and close 3 1/2 months later.

As I pedaled up Broadway I was struck by the overwhelming preponderance of jewelry stores. It was hard to tell just what kind of jewelry they were hawking with the empty display windows but I could guess. One of them had very discreet yet pretentious signage advertising it was truly international with stores in Paris Milan Skagway. I wonder if the other two stores are open just for the summer and if they sell gaudy Alaska nugget jewelry.

One of the 4 or 5 businesses open was the Sweet Tooth Saloon. With the feel of well-maintained ghost town fresh in my mind I was mildly surprised to find the place full. The waitress was friendly and the food was good. I should have asked her the derivation of the name since it was neither a bar nor an ice cream candy shop.

Leaving the restaurant I decided to find out how many jewelry stores there actually were so I rode up Broadway to 7^th Street, the top of the business district. By the time I got back down to 1^st Street I had counted 27 of them. The tourons off the cruise ships must think the citizens of Skagway the most ostentatious 800 people they have ever come across.

The harbormaster had mentioned a place that had pizza and beer, an irresistible lure so Tuesday evening off I went. The Red Onion Saloon is on the corner of Broadway and 2^nd. I had been past it several times but it was closed every time so I figured it was just another summer tourist trap. Nope. It’s a beautiful old 2-story building that had been a whorehouse during the gold rush. The walls are decorated with pictures and portraits of some of the ladies of that era. The Alaska Amber was on tap, the pizza was good, AND they had Herradura Añejo, one of my favorite tequilas. I was most definitely BWI (Biking While Intoxicated) on my way back to the boat.

My plan was to stay in Skagway for three days then wait for favorable weather to head back to Haines. The forecasts Monday and Tuesday were for south winds through Wednesday, switching north Thursday. I was prepared to wait until Thursday but Wednesday morning the winds were calm. I decided to go have breakfast and if it were still calm when I got back to the boat we would go.

It was still calm so we prepared to go. Of course as we cleared the breakwater the winds picked back up. Right on the nose with the occasional whitecap and against the flooding current I debated turning around. But I had seen what there was of Skagway to see in early April, the birds were wheeling around a ball of baitfish, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I pulled the throttle back to economy cruise, set Otto on a course, and had a leisurely afternoon motor down Taiya Inlet to Portage Cove.

As we entered the harbor the harbormaster hailed us from one of the floats and directed us to the same spot we had before. He recommended a couple of restaurants on the old Fort Seward grounds, an Italian place and a Mexican place. I walked back down to the boat got the bike and rode off in search of dinner.

True to form I had forgotten the names of the restaurants as soon as I left the office but figured there couldn’t be that many where I was going. I found a place that had restaurant and bar in its name. In I went. I didn’t see any tables set up but I could hear laughter and conversation and I followed it up to a small bar with a very cute bartender and 6 or 7 people drinking. I sat down, ordered a beer, and asked when the kitchen opened. To my surprise she said tomorrow. She recommended a place down the alley that had pizza called the Fireweed. Aha! As I was finishing my beer, one of the guys rang the bell. The bartender handed me a drink token but when I saw the others lining up shots of Patron I gave it back and joined them. Turns out the business was SEABA, Southeast Alaska Backcountry Adventures and the clients were heli-skiers. I should have recognized them with their anoraks, and reverse-raccoon tans.

The Fireweed Restaurant was the Italian place the harbormaster had recommended. They feature the five Haines Brewing Company beers on tap. I started off with the IPA and a menu. The beer was good and all but pizza on the menu kind of called for wine so I had pizza once again. It was very good as was the porter and the ale I had with it.

The next day the winds were blowing south so I decided to stay over. Besides, there was the Mexican food restaurant and the other two HBC beers to try. It was a good call as Mosey’s Cantina had both chili rellenos and HBC beer. It also was very good.

Friday was partly cloudy with winds out of the north to 10 knots. Time to go. The trip down Lynn Canal was delightful, riding the ebb tide and being pushed along with the following winds. As we came out from behind Sullivan Island the winds died completely. The porpoises frolicking in the bow wave counterbalanced the disappointment of having to fire up the motor.

We arrived at the entrance to Boat Harbor just before low water. I wanted the ebbing current to be able to maintain steerage at low speed since the entrance is rather shoal and narrow. At a couple of spots we had less than 3 feet below the shoe. No problems encountered and we were anchored 15 minutes later.

The next morning was clear and breezy out of the north. High slack water wasn’t until 11:30 so Jazz and I took the skiff over to the entrance to check the conditions. The water was boiling through the channel with definite whirlpools and eddies. I didn’t want to chance getting crosswise in such a narrow waterway. We had several hours to kill.

On the way back we stopped off and chatted with Chris, the caretaker of the 5 net pens full of chum salmon fry in one of the bights. He said they grow them from the beginning of March to the end of May and release them when they are about 3 grams. Cool job in a beautiful setting.

Part of the procedure for retrieving the skiff calls for climbing over the side, attaching the lifting bridle and tackle, then clamoring back over the rail. Climbing back onto the boat, my left foot slipped off the rail and my shin slammed into its sharp edge with most of my weight behind it. After the incredible pain had subsided enough for me to gather my wits I realized I had a bleeding wound to deal with.

We were underway after use of water, soap, alcohol, gauze, and tape. The forecast for southern Lynn Canal was for 15-20 knot northerlies, four foot seas, not bad. Instead we got 25-30 knots N, 6 foot sea with the occasional 8 footer, exciting. We were committed. Boat Harbor’s entrance to Lynn Canal has enough northerly exposure to allow for quite a swell for a ways into the channel. The situation was that reentering Boat Harbor had a high likelihood of bending metal.

Our destination was Auke Bay a distance of 25 miles. The first 12 miles diagonaling across to the northern point of Shelter Island would be the roughest. Upon leaving the entrance I deployed the jib as we beat into the weather. The vandals visited when we turned down wind. I watched the big flat screen come loose from the cabintop and pitch into the cabin. I couldn’t leave the helm to put the main up so we did it with the engine running barely above an idle and still averaging 7 knots.

With all the sailing going on I had completely forgotten my leg. At one point, probably an hour into it I started to scramble for something or another and was reminded. I glanced down and it looked like a grapefruit half under my stretch pants. I pulled up the pant leg. The purple lump was ugly but I was happy to see the bleeding had stopped.

Gaining Favorite Channel the moderating seas allowed Otto to take over steering duty. Up went the main and Miss Mercedes took a break. 7.5 to 8 knots wing and wing. I looked down into the cabin to see the flat screen lying on its back on the sole continuing to display a chart of our position even after its seven foot swan dive!

Tied to the dock, I went up to the rain locker for the miracle of hot water. After over a week of a damp wash cloth I was due. My plan was to get cleaned up, try a burger at the Hot Bite, take care of Jazz, then ride the bus into town to see my friends from Sitka play at the Juneau Folk Festival. After the shower I realized I really wasn’t going anywhere but back to the boat. Since the Hot Bite was right across the parking lot I was able to get dinner but it was a struggle to get Jazz up to do his business. I spent the evening with the leg elevated and an ice pack on the knot.

The next day the leg was better. I took the bus to Freddies and stocked up on groceries in addition to picking up a couple of cold/hot packs. When I got back to the boat and got the food stowed I checked the weather. Good conditions for leaving in the morning. We made preparations.

Monday was beautiful, 10 knots out of the north and few clouds in the sky. We got away from the fuel dock a little after 11. The USCG cutter Liberty was lying-to off the ferry dock as we crossed Auke Bay. Two hours later we were in the Saginaw Channel when I heard the Coast Guard come on VHF channel 16 with a “Pan-Pan” call concerning the report of a parasail white in color going into the water near Shelter Island and asking for any sightings. I hadn’t seen anything so I didn’t report in.

The calls continued as we rounded Point Retreat with increasing information as to description and location. By the time we were to False Point Retreat it was a parasail or an ultralight , white, black and purple going into the water between Point Symonds and Barlow Point towards Mansfield Peninsula from Shelter Island. I was thinking how those colors reminded me of my left shin when I thought I heard the Coast Guard calling for a sailboat that had transited that area. I wasn’t sure though and it wasn’t repeated. Sure enough, five minutes later I hear, “This United States Coast Guard Sector Juneau calling the sailing vessel Blue Note.’ I reported I hadn’t seen anything except the humpbacks off Point Barlow. An hour later we were tied to the dock here in Funter Bay.

Today is a weather day. It’s 25 knots out of the south up Chatham Strait. Since Tenakee is 25 miles down Chatham before the turn into the inlet and variable to 15 knots is the guess for Wednesday, we will wait. Now that this is up to date it’s time for Jazz and I to further explore Funter.

The pics are the Haines Boat Harbor, the Fireweed Restaurant, my guides down the Canal, the net pens, the go/no-go decision point (notice the entrance to the Canal is out of sight to the left), a humpback whale in Saginaw Channel, a couple of Canadian tourists, where we are as I write.

Skagway

2010-04-08T13:32:00.000-07:00

Partly cloudy, 44, winds out of the south at 15 knots.

We’re in Skagway! New territory, yay! Got here 3:30PM.

The week spent in Auke Bay was OK. Made several bus trips in the course of hunting down parts and restocking the larder and liquor cabinet. It’s an interesting experience to ride the bus packing six bags of groceries. Also tried Chans Thai Kitchen here in Auke Bay on Susanna’s recommendation. It was good.

I had been admiring a large steel cutter tied up interposed between Blue Note and the beach on my excursions ashore. What caught my eye were the many large Lexan port lights in the tumblehome, that portion of the freeboard above the widest point of the hull and below the deck. It made for a strong hull with a big view from the different cabins on board. The owner showed up mid week and I learned she’s Scandinavian, 54 feet and hard chined. I had noticed her mast was slightly taller than Blue Note’s so I was surprised to find out her owner had taken her under the Juneau-Douglas Bridge. He did it right before slack low water on a 0’ tide. He was able to fuel her and get back under on the same tide. He had people on the bridge checking clearances and it was apparently close. The Coast Pilot reports 51 feet of clearance but doesn’t specify where on the arch or the tidal reference. Google produced a document specifying heights at different navigation lights at 0’ (MLLW). Turns out Blue Note can pass under the highest portion of the arch on any tide lower than plus 5 feet, good information to have.

We got away from the fuel dock a little after noon on April 2, flaunting fate by leaving on a Friday. The winds in Auke Bay were light and variable and the sun was out. My intention was to overnight in Echo Cove about 39 miles north and then travel on to Haines the next day. But after several hours of slogging upwind in 20 knots and 4 foot seas, it was evident Echo Cove was unreachable before dark. Since we were less than 2 miles from Tee Harbor I decided to put in there.

Tee Harbor is less than 20 miles on the highway north of Juneau. Back in the early 80’s I and a couple of friends took a skiff from the south arm of Tee Harbor over to see a parcel one of them had just purchased on Shelter Island across Favorite Passage. Even then there were a lot of houses ringing the harbor. So I wasn’t surprised when we rounded the north entrance point to find not only houses completely around the anchorage but also mooring balls everywhere. Not exactly the place to take a leak over the side. Fortunately no boats were at their mooring balls so all I had to do was anchor without fouling the moorings.

The anchor was in its chock by 8AM and we were motoring up Lynn Canal under overcast skies and calm winds, Haines 55 miles away. Abeam Berners Bay we began to get a breeze forward of the beam so up went the main. From then on we had wind mostly favorable all the way to Haines. The sun made periodic appearances trading time with the clouds. At one point we had a complete rainbow during a snow squall. The highlight of the trip came about 5 miles south of Eldred Rock. The sound of a blow caused me to turn around in time to see the tall black dorsal fin of an orca slide under not more than 100 feet off the starboard quarter. A quick scan revealed another smaller orca a couple of hundred yards to port. They were traveling a little slower than we were so they were in sight for quite awhile. I don’t think I’ve seen orcas more than a half a dozen times so this was quite a treat, perhaps cancelling the bad juju of leaving port on Friday.

We got into Haines about 5:30. After getting the boat and Jazz squared away I walked up to the Lighthouse Restaurant/Harbor Bar, had a couple of beers and dinner and watched Duke trounce West Virginia.

The next morning, Easter, Jazz and I made a circuit of downtown. I had been here before, February 1981. I had come in on the ferry from Petersburg, spent the night then drove to Tok on my way to Valdez. I could recognize nothing from that trip so it was like new territory. Of course nothing was open and no one was out.

When we got back to the boat I began the process of deciding whether to go or stay: plotting a track line to the destination, checking the reported weather and forecast, checking the tide. The trip to Skagway was 14 miles, reported winds for both Haines and Skagway was S at 15 knots, and the tide was favorable at 1:30PM. Also the sun was out. I decided to go.

It was a good call. What a beautiful trip, waterfalls and hanging glaciers with a favorable tide and following winds. In fact the conditions were almost too good. I needed to charge the batteries therefore requiring the motor. Even at the lowest rpm setting to get maximum alternator output plus the pull from the genoa we were making better than 6 knots.

So here we are in Skagway. Jazz and I just got back from a stroll through downtown. Like Haines, deserted. I’ll find out in the morning what’s open from the harbormaster. And also see about getting an internet connection.

The pics are of the orcas, Eldred Rock, Haines Boat Harbor, Taiya Inlet and the Le Conte, and downtown Skagway.

Auke again

2010-03-28T15:18:00.000-07:00

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.

Pelican!

2010-03-23T18:29:00.000-07:00

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.

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

On the road again

2010-03-22T19:39:00.000-07:00

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.

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

2010-03-16T21:43:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

Sitka, our affair is almost at an end

2010-02-21T19:04:00.000-08:00

The weather for the last four days has been spectacular: sunny, calm, temps to the low 50s!

My stay in Sitka is coming to an end. All along, this time of year had been in the back of my mind as a point when wandering could begin again. Early March brings longer daylight hours and generally milder weather although this year could very well be an exception. It is also before the tourons (tourist and moron portmanteau) begin to show up. The angle of the sun light this time of year illuminates in a magical way. And I have to vacate my slip no later than March 6^th.

Yeah, the harbormaster’s office called last week and had me move to a different slip. She was able to find me one that I can have until early March. I have to say that the women in the harbormaster’s office have been extremely accommodating to Blue Note and her crew. Thank you, Kristi and Joy Ann.

So where to from here? I have never been to Skagway. On the list. I have only been to Wrangell once and that was over thirty years ago. On the list. I have never been to Point Baker/Port Protection or Port Alexander. On the list. I have never seen the west coasts of Baranof and Prince of Wales Islands. On the list.

How to see all those places while maximizing new exploration and minimizing repeat visits was a problem I began to contemplate about three weeks ago. To better visualize it, I fired up the ten-year-old laptop that serves as repository for my charts and navigation tools. I hadn’t turned it on since mid November and when it came up it was stuck in a graphics mode that wouldn’t allow the nav program to load. I pulled up the applet that controls the video and tried to change it. No go. I checked the disk, no go. I edited the registry, no go. I even found and downloaded the newest video driver version, nope. This desperate activity sporadically stretched over 4-5 days, to no avail. Nothing I did or tried would increase either the resolution or the color depth. Sigh. Was it time for a new laptop?

I began to search and compare laptop prices. Ugh, not cheap. I kinda wanted a Mac but I wasn’t sure if my outdated nav software would run on it. After another 4-5 days I finally settled on a Dell. Then the strange ritual I usually go through before I spend money I know I have to spend began. Pull out the credit card, grab the phone…pause. Put the phone down and stow the card…do something else. Repeat. Sometimes this silly cycle can go on for days. Fortunately during one of the do-something-else periods I fired up the old laptop and was looking around at what was on the hard drive, kind of with an eye to not having the machine around or not easily accessible when I came across Empire.

Empire is a game of world conquest involving armies, navies, air forces, logistics, strategy, and tactics. It began life as a DOS-based game with text graphics. It has antecedents in the UNIX world before that. It’s been around a long time. I had been addicted to it a long time. I say had because the version on the laptop was one I purchased back in the 90s and was copy protected. The method used required looking for a random word on a random page in the user manual to complete the installation. When I purchased the desktop several years ago I was unable to find the manual and was therefore unable to load Empire on the new machine. This was a good thing as I thought of the thousands of hours I wouldn’t waste in the future. Besides I still had the old laptop and if the urge became unbearable I could still fire it up.

Now I was contemplating not having it around at all. I knew that Empire would run in the only video mode that was now available and that Empire was now the only reason to keep the old machine around in a real estate-starved living space. Amongst this figurative withdrawal I thought of one of the quirky bugs in the Empire code. After you have vanquished the computer, the software switches video modes to play a corny little video sequence where a grateful civilian leader pins a medal on you. When the map display comes back up it doesn’t switch back to the original mode and to get back to it you have to do the steps in order. It got me to thinking of the reason for all the agony I had been enduring for the last week and a half. I pulled up the video driver applet and began trying things in different orders. After about fifteen minutes and a half a dozen reboots I was able to get the display back to normal. Yaaay! Not only that but the display was clearer than it had ever been and the operation of the external video port did not require a reboot. Win! And I still have Empire. :-)

End of circumtextition, whew! After several hours of pouring over the small scale chart of the Alexander Archipelago (Southeast Alaska) I think I have come up with a route that best fulfills the above criteria. Leaving Sitka, it goes north up the west coasts of Baranof and Chichagof Islands and through Lisianski Strait to Pelican. From there, north to Elfin Cove, through Cross Sound, Icy Strait, into Lynn Canal and north to Haines and Skagway. I’ll hit Auke Bay either on the way up or back. Then it’s south through Chatham and Peril Straits to Sitka and around Cape Ommany to Port Alexander, north to Baranof Warm Springs and around to Petersburg, thence south through the Wrangell Narrows to Wrangell, west around Zarembo Island to Point Baker/Port Protection. And then it’s south down the west coast of Prince of Wales and around to Ketchikan.

Of course this is all highly tentative. The actual course will differ by weather, whim, and time in that order. As I said before, we have been having a warm and relatively dry winter. There, however, is no reason to expect that it will continue. Folks around here speak of the herring snows of March, a phenomenon whose description sounds very much like the chicken feathers snow we got in Valdez. And gales are common the month of March. But right now it is wonderful. The snow level is above 1500 feet. The temps dip below freezing at night when it’s clear and into the high 40s during the day.

Activity is beginning to pick up around here. The seiners are gearing up, the float planes are beginning to fly, and the crews are starting to show up. By the time the herring arrive it will be crazy. Time to go soon.

I’ve included an image showing the path I described above. It is shown in red. You can click on it to make it bigger. I know, no labels. Those of you who have been following this blog should be able to find Sitka. If you can’t, pull up Google Earth and feed ‘Sitka AK’ into the search box. The other images are of a couple of herring fishermen and some shots of the harbor on a particularly beautiful dusk.