WHALES, WATERFALLS, WILDLIFE, AND WONDERFUL SCENERY:
OUR “WOW-W” SUMMER TRIP TO ALASKA
Our 2009 trip to Alaska began May 16 when we untied from Fishermen’s Terminal in Seattle, headed for Glacier Bay National Park. We retraced our travels of 1998, anchoring at many of the same special places in British Columbia on the way to Prince Rupert. Steve Erickson joined us for the three-week trip from Seattle to Ketchikan, our first stop in Alaska. The same plane that took him home, brought our second guest, Marie Blackburn, from Baltimore, MD. We toured through the Misty Fjords National Monument and Tracy Arm en route to Juneau, spying wildlife and floating icebergs along the way. Dawn joined us when Marie left in Juneau.
Glacier Bay National Park awaited our return, but had to wait one additional day so we could visit the quaint village of Hoonah on Chicagof Island, just across Icy Strait from the entrance to Park Headquarters. Hoonah is a Tlingit word, meaning “place where the north wind does not blow.” We passed a cruise ship anchored off the old cannery—now a museum and shops--on our way to the inner harbor and the transient dock. There we met Arlen, the assistant Harbormaster, who introduced us to the Tlingit culture his unique way. Being part Tlingit and part Norwegian, he was not sure what he should call his heritage--“Tlinegian” or “Norwegit.”
After an oriental lunch at a restaurant on the main street we strolled along the waterfront, and were impressed by the locals who stopped, smiled, and genuinely greeted us with, “Welcome to Hoonah!” One man, wearing a Vietnam Vet hat, spent several minutes talking with us, especially when he learned Denis had also been in Vietnam at about the same time. The local man laughed and said because he lived by the sea, the U.S. Navy took him, assuming he knew a lot about life on the ocean and big ships. He had been a small boat fisherman, and never gone that far out to sea. He also told us at one time there were over 500 fishing boats working in and out of that harbor. Today there are many less.
The old cannery is now full of tourist shops for cruise ship passengers who disembark there, many taking advantage of the special “zip line” ride down from the mountain top. We had desired to buy some bakery goodies. Not seeing such a building along the street, we asked one of the restaurant workers, who said, “I don’t know; I just got here from San Francisco yesterday.” Now how many people in San Francisco even know where Hoonah is?
Anchoring at North Sandy Cove, Reid Glacier, Blue Mouse Cove, and Bartlett Cove (Park Headquarters), we also visited Johns Hopkins Inlet to see two glaciers there before the big one, Margerie, around the corner in Tarr Inlet. The Grand Pacific Glacier there had retreated, with its toe not even visible. Global warming at work. Such a difference from our photos of the first trip.
At South Marble Island we encountered many sea otters, swimming on their backs, including one with a baby on her belly, plus scores of sea lions calling from rocks, plus puffins and boobies by the dozens with their nests and babies that needed to be fed. Returning to Bartlett Cove we encountered adverse current, so bad that at 1300 rmp the GPS read ZERO in knot speed. That’s a mighty fast incoming tide!
Scooting back across Icy Strait, we tied up again, this time right across from a new Diesel Duck, SEADUCKTRESS, whose owners, Peter and Glenda Geerdof, gave us a tour and invited us for drinks. Returning from another meal on shore, this time a halibut pizza, a man followed us down the dock from his Krogen 42 and announced, “I see you have not sold your boat.” He had met us along the Baja coast on our way back to the States in 2008 and at that time the plan was to sell and downsize. Fifty-two foot TEKA III had kept us safe over 48,000 nautical miles, giving us lots of adventures, but we were entertaining the idea of a smaller vessel. Not yet.
The following morning we began the trip around and down to Tenakee Springs, another small village. This one had no native-American population; no cruise ship draw; canneries were shut down years ago; the only street was dirt; some houses were 100 years old; and the transportation (other than the small fire engine) had only ATV or bicycle wheels. Most people walked. Dogs were allowed to roam free. With no human restrictions, the dogs behaved well-- no dog fights, not even snarling.
After docking, with some effort due to the afternoon wind blowing us off the dock, we struck up a conversation with one fisherman in the marina. His tee shirt featured a picture of the Snow White dwarf, “Grumpy,” on it, letting his head replace the dwarf’s missing one. The shirt apparently got a lot of wear since it had been a gift from his granddaughter. That being the case, we adopted that name for him. His Mexican dog, Princess, kept vigil on the dock. Grumpy spent six months a year in Tenakee, and six months in Alamos, Mexico. He had quite a haul of shrimp, good-sized ones too, that he had started to de-head when we walked up. His job for the upcoming July 4th party called for a bounty of shrimp for the big gathering. As we talked, he pointed across the bay to where crab traps and shrimp traps laid in wait to capture some delicious morsels. All we had to do was bait our trap and drop it.
He also told us about the upcoming July 4th Parade, which we confirmed by reading a poster right outside the Tenakee Springs Spa. This natural hot springs, used by locals and visitors, is one of the draws for people to drop by the village. Word of mouth and information in guidebooks touts the special spa. Separate hours are posted for men versus women to use the quaint facility. Denis took advantage of soaking in the 105 degree water each of two times we stopped at Tenakee. Hot water bubbled up between two boulders at the bottom of the 8x10 pool where people sat on the sides and enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere.
The poster told all parade participants to gather at 11 a.m. on the morning of the fourth. The parade would begin promptly at 11:30, and end at 11:32. On our second trip to Tenakee we asked Grumpy how long the parade actually lasted. “A minute and a half.” The whole thing reminded me of Bill Geist’s Standstill Parade on CBS Sunday Morning Show a while back.
Three Dungeness crabs found in our traps the next morning had feasted on the chicken legs and salmon head provided for bait. Bringing the traps back on board, we pointed the bow south and began our trip down to and through Peril Strait. This Strait separated Chicagof from Barnanof Island--Chatham Strait the eastern entrance and Salisbury Strait the western outlet. It is a winding passage with rapids to consider half way through. Calculating slack tides we thought the best bet would be to anchor overnight near the rapids and continue on with the slack tide early the following morning. However we watched the three fishing boats traveling just ahead of us, deciding our speed matched theirs, and they appeared intent to keep on going, so we did too. Fog developed just before the nasty curve and rapids area. Out of the fog came a cruising trawler, whose captain reported the fog would be clearing ahead of us and the passage looked good. That personal, up-to-the-minute information, made our decision to go a solid one. One had to follow the channel markers, which the fog could obscure, so were happy to see the fog lifting at the right time. Radar works well, but eyes are best.
At Sitka, Dawn caught her plane to Seattle; son, David and friend, Summer, got off to spend sixteen days. That included another visit to Glacier Bay National Park, earnestly fishing on the way north. Elfin Cove, another quaint place, had a lot of activity with seaplanes flying in and out to take fishermen and their catch home in Styrofoam boxes or ice chests. The locals lived along a bay beyond the dock and small hotels on the Strait side. Walking the wooden planks connecting the houses offered a view of the inner bay, the local fishing boats, and life in an isolated place. Everyone seemed happy and content. In fact David and Denis plotted to return and do some charter fishing in the future. We were amused when calling on the VHF for the Elvin Cove Harbormaster to make sure the dock had room for us, and a voice responded, “Elvin Cove has no harbormaster.” The dock did only hold four boats to each side. Fortunately there was room for us.
Second trip to Glacier Bay netted more nice scenery, another dinghy ride to explore around Reid Glacier on shore, dodging larger ice chunks in Johns Hopkins Inlet, and watching a black bear meander down the shoreline at Sandy Cove anchorage.
Leaving Glacier Bay, we began earnest fishing and soon caught a 20-pound and 37-pound halibut. We did not have a gun to kill such a fish before bringing it on board, but managed to gaff it, get it on the swim bridge, tie the tail and then drag it behind to make sure it was dead before bringing it on board.
While fishing we had numerous whale sightings. Humpbacks cruised by, their fins breaking the surface and blow holes spewing columns of mist into the air announcing their arrival. We watched their path, anticipating the “whale tale” wave just before they dove to feed below the surface. As many as we saw that day and days after, we never lost the magic of spotting these magnificent animals in their environment. They even put on shows for us by breaching ever so often. Sometimes it happened without warning and your delayed response only let you see the huge circle of water after the splash. Incredible!
Another trip to Tenakee Springs; this time we ended up losing our shrimp trap in 550 feet of water. We marked the dropped position on the GPS, yet the following morning, it had disappeared. After a fruitless search we resigned ourselves to the loss. I wrote a letter to the Harbormaster, Wendy, and told her if it showed up somewhere (it had our information on the marker buoy), please give it to Grumpy to use for us. Salmon berries were heavy on the bushes calling us to pick them as we tried not to mourn our missing trap.
Passing the entrance to Peril Strait, we had lots of fishing action, keeping one 6-pound silver salmon for dinner. Continuing south along the eastern shore of Baranof Island we enjoyed many waterfalls; each one seemed more stunning and spectacular than the last. At Warm Springs Cove the small dock had no room for any more boats. That day happened to be the end of season for gillnetters, and those boats were not only on the dock, but anchored nearby, so we enjoyed the view from afar. Because of the depth we could not easily anchor. Otherwise we could have dinghied to shore and taken the trail to a lookout over the falls. What a view we had anyway.
Not far away Waterfall Cove called us over to drift below and wonder at all that water cascading down the sheer walls. While we floated, our attention drew to movement coming up beside us on the port side. Two adult orca whales swimming in perfect unison came right towards our stern, then veered away at the last minute and kept on swimming, their white and black markings shining in the sun. That, plus the dahl porposies that accompanied us along part of our day, made it another wow day!
Red Bluff Bay, named for the color of the rocks at the entrance, got a perfect 10 score for anchoring. At the end of the Bay is a giant meadow and many waterfalls tumbling off the tops of ridges. A very special waterfall watched over us and the only other boat in the anchorage as we grooved on the view. A brown bear and cub marched through the meadow in the late afternoon.
We saw another bear at Port Malmesbury, AKA “Mud Hole, “across Chatham Strait on Kuiu Island. Keeping a sharp eye out for what the guidebook called, “a sea otter nursery,” we got over our disappointment by watching this bear and her cub, nursing a hurt foot. He moved quite carefully. We were not sure if he had hurt it somehow or one leg/foot had a deformity. At the same time we watched the bears Denis and David cleaned the 46 pound halibut caught on a 25 pound line after a long fight. It took 45 minutes to clean.
The next day going up Sumner Strait, a whale approached and before I could announce from my seat at the helm, it jumped horizontally out of the water straight out from the bow. I remember trying to say whale, but only uttering, “wwwwwwhhhhhh….” David, Denis, and Summer charged into the pilothouse only to see and hear a huge splash. Another Wow!
After successful fishing that afternoon, two silvers, plus releasing or losing many others, we wound our way back into the anchorage at Labouchere Bay. This one was a “10+,” with its great views and wonderful protection.
In the morning a loud whacking sound ricocheting across the water caught our attention. We thought it originated from a local sea lion slapping the water. But when we re-entered Sumner Strait, we came upon a huge humpback whale with one fin out of the water which he forcefully flapped and whacked one splat at the time, throwing water in all directions. Right next to him swam a smaller whale. Was this a mating scene? Or what?
David and Sumer left for San Diego at Ketchikan. We crossed Clarence Strait for a visit with new cruising friends, Tom and Judi, at their cabin on Dora Bay. They live there in the summer months and in Washington State the rest. Their haul of large prawns became the main dish for dinner and they sent us on our way the following morning with another container of prawns for another day.
From their place we high-tailed it back to Prince Rupert, then watching weather took an unusual course (further west than the Inland Passage) for a few days anchoring down to Coward’s Cove and on to McGinnis Island, where we turned back into protected waters. Outran predicted gale but had lots of fog to deal with on way to Johnstone Strait.
Near Robson Bight, a place where orcas go for “rubbing,” a warden approached us in his inflatable boat and asked us to stay in mid-channel as three dozen whales were active in that area, including some young ones. We had been watching several swimming towards us in “synch” and at one time lost count of one. He had gone quite near, if not under our boat, on his swimming path, and surfaced behind us. They are beautiful animals to see in the water. And we did see the young ones up ahead as we changed course.
About that time the larger, faster power boats came on the scene, apparently heading to a rendezvous at Echo Bay that we knew about. They sure churned up the water as they zoomed past, using a lot of fuel. Apparently the energy crisis is over for them.
Back to Desolation Sound, and then Comox for Nautical Days and visiting old friends before continuing to the San Juans and a special rendezvous with Dawn, Larry, and Megan on Southern Belle in Roche Harbor. Together we buddied-boated across the Strait of Juan de Fuca and home. On August 9 we re-entered the Ballard Locks, and tied up at Fishermen’s Terminal, with 3,050 new nautical miles under the keel, from our trip back through the Inland Passage to visit “The Southeast.”
Reflecting on all we had seen during this trip, the whales, waterfalls, wildlife, and wonderful scenery greatly impacted all our senses, making memories for a lifetime. Alaska is indeed a special place.
