Pacific NW

Expeditions

An unexpectedly beautiful, spring-like morning brought blue skies and warm air, even hints of grass.  The resident sea lion moved about the harbor, a welcome sight.  We seized the relatively calm waters to relocate to the main harbor, affording us prime access to needed provisions.  The engine started up like a charm and Pete had a twinkle in his eye as we nosed the boat out of the harbor and into the open water.  It was a bit of a tease to be out so briefly on this glorious day, and it wasn’t long before we were penned up inside a harbor once again.  During the short transit, we spotted a humpback out in Zimovia.  It felt good to be back in Alaska!  Pete was beginning to doubt all those accounts of harsh Alaskan winters, but I figured this day was an exceptional one.  Perhaps Pete was feeling some great satisfaction calling to mind a certain naysayer, a crotchety fisherman who told us a few months back that we were downright stupid” for planning to sail in January.  In any case, Pete was flaunting our good fortune by wearing only a t-shirt.

We sidled up to an empty dock, and soon realized that we’d be without power for the night as no harbor employees were to be found.  We took advantage of the relatively dry dock to spread out the wet, behemoth boat cover, roll her up properly and lash her to the deck for the sail.  I spent a good part of the afternoon at the grocery store, scoping out the general selection and making the initial non-perishable purchases.  Though I had chalked the place up to be a glorified convenience store, the selection was greater than expected.  Helpful employees filled a box full of twenty dozen of their freshest” eggs (fresh is relative term in AK).  The local chicken farmers didn’t have enough eggs to satisfy our enormous quota, so we had to go for the store bought variety.  The barge from down south” had just delivered the store’s weekly load of fresh groceries and employees were busy stocking the shelves.  By tomorrow, most of these items would be available to snatch off the shelves.  In the summer, it’s a race for the fresh produce as its quantity dwindles greatly by the end of the week, but this time of year the competition factor would likely be down.  Nevertheless, I planned to be there tomorrow and not take my chances.  By the time I headed back to the boat, the temperatures had dropped significantly and the town had turned into an ice skating rink.  The van arrived with groceries in tow, which were carted down to the boat.  One of the great services offered to boaters in Wrangell is that of grocery delivery.  Bag after bag was handed over the lifelines and Pete began to box up the goods for our crossing.  We carefully stowed the eggs beneath the v-berth floorboards, with plenty of cardboard dunnage in case of rough seas.  We’re crossing our fingers that the little guys make it.

We awoke feeling refreshed on the New Year, ready to tackle a mountain of tasks.  Pete slept an incredible 14 hours, which I’ve never known him to do, and I got my fair share of sleep too.  Yesterday’s lack of food left me salivating for a hearty wintertime breakfast and Pete obliged.  I sat snug next to the heater with my cup of coffee while the bacon sizzled and eggshells were cracked over the skillet.  Minds alert and bellies satisfied, we set out to accomplish our first real order of business for the day, procuring the firewood that we had cut and stored months before.  Firewood, apart from food and water, was key to our survival for what we referred to as our arctic voyage.  Before departing AK last fall, our friend Jerry had kindly provided us with a hefty stack of pallets and a circular saw.  Pete worked steadfastly to zip up the wood into lengths that would fit just so into our wood stove and store nicely on the boat.  Back in AK, we looked forward to again feasting our eyes on the fruits of our labor, and were pleased to have such an abundance of wood waiting for us.

After a round of coffee at Jerry’s place, we headed next door to the neighbors’ trailer where our wood sat in an adjacent storage area.  According to Jerry, the neighbor murdered somebody inside of his house some years ago and is now behind bars for the foreseeable future.  The neighbor is unknowingly doing us a great favor by providing us with a storage facility!  We loaded Jerry’s pickup truck with a huge plastic fish tote full of wood, plus a few more bucket’s worth.  Jerry, our generous benefactor, slid the tote down the harbor’s steep ramp and then glided it along the icy boardwalk to the boat’s slip.  Pete and I worked quickly to unload and stow the wood in our quarter berth bins, racing against the rain that threatened to soak our precious wood, our lifeline for winter cruising.  With no room to spare after the final pieces were stowed, we had expertly eyeballed the exact amount of wood needed.  It felt satisfying to have a healthy winter supply in tow.  Now that we had wood to burn, Pete polished the rusty cast iron stove in preparation for the year’s first fire.  After months sitting in this rain forest environment, the boat needed a thorough drying out.  We sat snug and toasty next to the woodstove, feeling at home back on Privateer after a three-month long hiatus.  Though we shift between land and sea, we spend much of the year on the boat and she provides a home like no other-stout, simple and cozy and suited to our adventurous, nomadic whims.

Our puddle-jumper” plane from Seattle first touched down on Alaskan soil in Ketchikan, then continued north.  Among the few passengers who disembarked in Wrangell, we stepped onto a vacant tarmac on a bleak winter morning.  The lackluster weather and our slightly delirious state didn’t dampen spirits.  We were excited to be home! Alaskan territory was refreshing after having been x-rayed at the Seattle airport, but then I spotted an out-of-place security agent in the benign, pocket-sized Wrangell airport.  So much for a free Alaska!

Friends and family greeted the locals as they entered the one-room terminal, but we were at the mercy of the town’s only taxi, a mini-van, to deliver us home.  A fellow passenger inched towards the taxi as it pulled up, but as we too stepped forward she caught sight of our six 50 lb bags and numerous carry-ons and realized there’d be competition for space.  We managed to stuff all persons and luggage into the mini-van, the woman seeming slightly annoyed despite sitting comfortably in the front seat.  Pete helped carry the woman’s belongings to her front door and was rewarded for the gentlemanly deed with a box of fine sea salt caramels from her travels.

The harbor was quiet with only a few bodies milling about, just how we like it.  We found Privateer’s boat cover dusted with a thin layer of snow.  It appeared to have done a stand-up job of protecting her from the elements over the last few months.  Wasting no time, Pete stripped off the boat cover and revealed the arched PVC pipes that formed the internal support for the boat cover and which, standing alone, resembled a whale carcass.  Boat cover removed, the dodger went back up and we watered the boat” by using the dock hose to fill the centerline tanks with 120 gallons of water for dishes and showers during the voyage.  15 gallons of drinking and cooking water would be stored in separate 5-gallon jugs.  While Pete worked on deck, I unpacked the bags one by one until everything was stowed away.  We had paid the extra luggage fees for three bags full of food, well worth it in lieu of Alaska’s higher food prices and often less than desirable selection.  After an exhausting trip, Pete fell asleep early, making for an uneventful New Year’s Eve.  Our friend Jerry came by to say hello and we made plans for the next morning to pick up our wood, stored in his neighbor’s shed.  Securing our wood supply will be a major step closer to departure.