Pacific NW

Expeditions

We passed by a Humpback whale feeding at the entrance of Taz Basin as we made our way to Northwestern Fjord. The head of the Fjord is magnificent! Dozens of glaciers hung from the mountains, several of which ended in the tidewater. We watched Northwestern glacier calve huge blocks of ice for six hours. Way beyond description. The glaciers were incredibly steep and unstable. We watched huge blocks of ice fall from 3,000 feet above us. They would shatter into millions of pieces, creating “waterfalls” of ice. There were many seal pups at the base of the glacier, floating on the icebergs. They look like they have mohawks on their backs at this age. Four major calving events of the glacier stand out in my mind. We were very close to enormous proportions of the glacier face cracking off. It was incredible being that close to such great and destructive forces. Even my own memory of the event could not suffice for a complete description of the experience, for it can not contain the adrenaline rush one feels in such situations. We were being safe and sensible, yet walking the edge of the fence with wild Mother Nature. In the afternoon it began to rain. We anchored in a small bight surrounded by thickets of alder and willow, built a fire and passed the rest of the day’s hours reading, cooking, and listening to music.

We went hiking today and left Silent Partner riding at anchor in Taz Basin. I secured a stern-tie to shore and we were off in Modulus. Armed with a pair of sandals, a pair of boat shoes, and a bit of food we charged up the mountain. The Devil’s Club (extremely prickly plant) wasn’t as bad as the spruce trees we encountered. Sometimes we would have to grasp spruce branches to pull ourselves up the cliffs, and they always scratched back. I began to develop a deep appreciation for the softer Hemlock trees that were also there. But the spruce had won the battle as we gained the ridge which led to the final ascent. All along the ridge grew gnarled spruce trees. And to stay on the mountain we had to push ourselves through the thickest parts of them. Finally we gained a huge boulder field with enormous slabs of granite, and hiked easily over the terrain. We plowed into a salmonberry-filled avalanche chute and hand-over-handed it to the knife edge crag that was the summit of the mountain. Normally I stand atop the highest stone on a mountain summit, but there was no way I would stand on this one! It was a straight 1,600 foot drop to the water below. The view of the fjords, islands, glaciers, mountains, and ocean was awesome. Incredibly, we watched a whale swimming far below in the channel. It slowly spouted and dove, and we could see the whole thing from above. The Humpback repeatedly spouted and we could even hear its breath from the mountain summit if we listened carefully and the wind was gusting in the right direction. We ate lunch up there and watched the whale for an hour or so. The way down was faster because we knew the route. Ryan punched his leg through a snowfield and sank in up to his waist. I had to dig him out because he had gotten trapped in an odd position. Other than the hundreds of scratches we received, it was a most excellent hike. It really puts this coast into perspective to see it from a mountain top. We are surrounded by seemilgly endless vast wilderness–this place is huge.

After eating yet another fantastic breakfast of bacon and eggs, Ryan and I watched to kayakers scare a big black bear out of their campsite. I must admit that it was enjoyable watching the whole scenario from the comfort and safety of Silent Partner. Shortly afterwards we motored over to the Aialik glacier and saw two Humpback whales en route. Nothing except shrubby willows and alder trees grow on the soaring peaks here. Waterfalls and snowfields punctuate the almost-tropical spring green-ness of the vegetation. Black craggy peaks, emerald glaciers everywhere, and a lazy yet threatening ocean swell rolls up the silvery blue waters of the fjord. Ryan had great beginner’s luck at the glacier–it put on a spectacular show. Hour after hour we drifted at the face as massive seracs and blocks thundered into the sea. Later on we made our way out to Taz Basin on Granite Island. En route we encountered another humpback and many spectacular sea arches. The coast here is simply amazing. If it were in a more accessible and populated part of the world it would be the crown jewel of known wilderness areas. The waters of Taz Basin were extremely calm this evening. We are in a small basin of water completely surrounded by towering vertical cliffs 1500 feet tall, and the entrance to the basin is through a notch only a few yards across with a rock in the middle. We cooked up the last of our halibut and explored the perimeter of the basin in the evening.

“Silent Partner” has spent the days of March 26 to June 1 in the Seward Boat Harbor. During those days, the predicted low pressure system established itself, bringing a week of SE winds and rain. All boats returned to the harbor and day after day we heard the fishermen talking of 30 foot waves in the Kennedy Entrance. Meanwhile, we were very happy to be in a safe port and exploring the City of Seward, which we liked very much. Having the boat re-provisioned, watered, repaired, and fueled we had a few days to kill in town before Neptune left on the 31st and Ryan arrivied on the 1st. In a strange way I became growingly accustomed to the ways of the town. I soon took for granted the luxury of not having to pay attention to the weather, tides, and currents. I took a small vacation from the marine radio, charts and Coast Pilot. The weather broke for a day and Neptune and I went out on a charter boat, to learn how to fish for Halibut. It was a big boat with 16 folks, all very nice people. I caught one Halibut and Neptune caught 3! We kept 3 of them that each weighed about 20 pounds. It was still too much meat though (no refrigerator on the boat) so we gave half of it away to a new friend, who shipped it to his wife in Missouri or something. We also caught shark after shark after shark. Nep and I caught probably 30 between just the two of us. One guy caught a huge skate that was over five feet in diameter. That night, and every night thereafter for a week, we ate fresh Halibut that was better than any I’ve ever had in any eating establishment. On May 31st Neptune hopped on the train and headed back down to the lower 48, reluctant to return to the habits of the city. It has been quite the two months while he’s been aboard–crossing the Gulf and the tour of Prince William Sound. The next afternoon Ryan arrived on the train. We got him all stowed away on the boat and anxiously awaited the morning, when we could leave Seward and sail down the Kenai Peninsula.

Our plan was to spend the day and night at Tiger Glacier. But when we got to the fjord it was completely packed with icebergs and a wind was coming up. I am getting tired of ice navigation in the wind. Then I called in a satellite weather report. It was grim. Either we go directly to Seward right now, or face a week of waiting out Easterly gales. Then we would have to go back to Whittier to drop my Dad off, and that was just not a good option to us. So we made a run direct to Seward and travelled all through the night. At dusk we watched a pod of whales and several bears roaming the storm-beaten capes of the outer coast. We sailed out into the Gulf past a string of desolate capes and vertical shores. Just before the light faded I spotted the first puffin seen from the decks of “Silent Partner”. It was a tufted puffin, a really weird looking bird. We rounded Cape Resurrection in darkness and spotted the lights of Seward through a light rain 18 miles away. They just rebuilt the harbor last year, unbeknownst to us. I almost ran smack into the unlit breakwater, which was 500 feet south of its charted position. We pulled into a slip and went to bed just as the sun began to rise.

Today was a damn fine day to be alive! We did a 62 mile run from Tenakee Hot Springs to Baranof Hot Springs. I started us off early, after an hour and a half of sleep. It was smooth as glass when we left, with the occasional shy porpoise or whale spout breaking the surface of the water. I thorougly enjoyed the morning watching the changing qualities and patterns of light play on the sky and waters of Chatham Strait. Justin awoke and cooked a steaming breakfast which we enjoyed in the cockpit. Afterwards I took a long nap while Justin navigated through a white-out. At 1500 hours we turned into Baranof Bay, and found there the large public dock where boats tie up while they use the hot springs. Baranof has all the elements of complete paradise. A dock to tie up to, fresh water, numerous public bathrooms, and the most remarkable hot spring imaginable! The cost for moorage is $0. All set in the midst of Baranof’s pristine wilderness! Justin and I hiked to the natural springs and giant Baranof Lake up the mountain. The springs consist of several large clear pools of hot water, situated directly next to a raging whitewater river that shoots through a slot in the canyon. Justin was beside himself, totally impressed with the situation. On the dock I recognized a friend from my Captain’s license course, Vic Cano. He is staying at the dock for the summer with his partner Suzanne, and selling woodcarvings to passing boaters. Soon the dock filled with boats, and things swung into party mode. Beers and margaritas were handed to Justin and me and we gladly accepted our fate. Vic and Suzanne invited us “over” for dinner and we had a top-notch meal. Wild Alaskan King salmon with Vic’s excellent mashed potaoes. And a berry cobbler for dessert! The berries had just been picked from the side of the mountain. Justin and I greatly enjoyed Vic and Suzanne’s company. I relished all the socializing after so many months of solitute. Making the rounds I went from pilothouse to pilothouse, gamming with the fellow skippers and fishermen. It was a most pleasant and unexpected evening.

We briefly poked our nose into King’s Bay before circling back into incredible Deep Water Bay. This place is called a “mini Yosemite” but there is nothing miniature about it. Massive half-domes of solid granite slabs stand amongst the glaciers and rivers at the head of the bay. I saw a marmot on shore, right by the saltwater. We anchored on a steep sand-ramp that shoals extremely rapidly. I went for a hike up into the mountains and didn’t have to do any bushwacking.

While underweigh today I carefully placed Neptune’s expensive camera on the floor of the cockpit. Then I dropped a winch handle really loud to create the illusion the camera fell. Nep shot out of the cabin so fast I didn’t have time to put the winch handle away, however, and he quickly figured it out. Next time I’ll have to hide the camera and create a large splash. The water in Nellie Juan anchorage is a bright Kool-aid blue-green and looks very refreshing on a hot day like today. The water’s surface is dusted with bands and swirls of yellow pollen, drifted off from the surrounding forests. In some places it is extremely thick, and Silent Partner looks like she is anchored on a manicured golf course. Neptune and I went for a hike through the bear-track filled snowfields. Earlier in the day we saw a big old grizzly from the boat. My legs are extremely out of shape for hiking after being on the boat for 80 days. I stopped frequently to empty the snow from my boots (should’ve brought my snowshoes!) and drink from the streams.

Today Neptune and I turned pirate. We spied the ship as we were entering Esther Bay. She was a brand-new wreck, 35 feet long, partially washed up on the shore. Neptune circled in our galleon while I rowed out to the wreck, to see if there were women and/or precious cargo and spices to be carried off. The vessel was stove in on port side and her stern was grounded out with the pilothouse half-submerged. She had current licensing tags but was poorly maintained, and must have broken loose from her moorings to be washed up on this desolate shore. I walked around carefully on her bows that were high out of the water and pointed skyward; she was still rocking in the waves. While keeping a weather-eye to seaward to watch for British gun-boats, I reached into my bag of tools and began to vigorously exercise the law of the sea. I stripped the vessel for all she was worth, which wasn’t much. I made off with three handsome cleats that will fetch a fair price on the black market, but no fair maidens. Currently we are hiding at the uncharted head of Esther Bay, the perfect spot to launch out and surprise the next ship that passes by. Esther Bay actually is uncharted, and a really beautiful place. I have half a mind to bury our newfound treasure on one of the many islets that clutter the cove. Neptune rowed to shore and discovered the perfect swimming lake. You hike up a small waterfall to get there. The ravine is filled with monkey flowers and violets. Once at the top it opens out into heather and tundra, acres and acres of rolling meadows. I went for a swim in the lake and ran naked through the tundra to dry off. Each step into the moss brings forth several inches of warm clear water between my toes. Neptune was so excited about his discovery and his swim that he went for another swim– in the saltwater. Here he learned firsthand that the ocean is colder than a small lake, and also that it contains stinging jellyfish. Nevertheless, he had a great swim from the boat, and I admire his courage for staying in for so long. Right now the kittiwake gulls are dive-bombing the water all around the boat. With each strike they disappear underwater and bring forth a wriggling herring. Sometimes they eat it and other times they fly off with it, maybe to a nest. They are remarkable at fishing.

Before heading out of Harriman Fjord we ran down to the end to Harriman Glacier. The mountains, sky, and glaciers were a dull white and the water was grey. We were in a world of ice. Two researchers in orange survival suits zipped over to our boat in a zodiac. They were in the Fjord studying birds for four months and seemed very lonely and eager to talk to us. We had an uneventful steam to Beetles Lagoon. We really like the lagoon. Every so often we find a place that just feels good, but we can’t explain why. Several other boats were in the lagoon. We spent a peaceful evening rowing around the lagoon and cooking fried rice.