Voyage Alaska 2005

August 29, 2005 Walker Island Cove to Port Hardy Day 182

2005-09-26T08:10:00.000-05:00

It was an easy hop from Walker Island Cove to Port Hardy this morning. We took advantage of a sunny afternoon and gutted the boat, cleaning and making space for Jakob. I went into town and bought a large sledgehammer and splitting maul to break down the larger pieces of firewood on the boat. I must've been a sight with that sledgehammer and big beard. All traffic stopped 30 feet away from me and I received a few frightened stares from shop owners behind plate-glass windows. Ahh, my immersion back into civilization! Port Hardy, is the first city connected to a road system since Whittier! Being in Port Hardy is a lot like being in 1983. Every store seems to be locked into this time frame. Justin and I enjoyed dinner in one such establishment, when in the door walked Jakob! We drank a few rounds and toasted to a safe transit of the wild west side of Vancouver Island.

August 28, 2005 Philip Inlet to Walker Island Cove Day 181

2005-09-26T07:56:00.000-05:00

Vic and I rousted the crews early this morning after receiving a favorable forecast for the ocean crossing around Cape Caution. At the narrow entrance of Philip Inlet a mammoth humpback whale surfaced right behind the boat. As my friend Reeb says " remarkable and yet an everyday occurance, a wonderful combination". Once out in the strait we saw a giant white fin plying the surface. Further investigation revealed that it was a humongous skate, with a "wingspan" of perhaps 6 feet! I took these to be good omens for our crossing. Up ahead, Vic radioed back to us that conditions were looking very good. Indeed, it was a smooth crossing, and my sixth time around Cape Caution. Vancouver Island loomed up on the horizon. Vancouver Island, which can be seen from Bellingham too!! I have been at sea for a full 6 months now, and here was home turf comming into view. In Walker Island Cove Justin and I made an attempt at fishing. Justin caught a rockfisk, and soon it began to pour rain again. It is a warm rain--we are really starting to feel the heat of the southern latitudes again. Back aboard we almost roasted ourselves out of the boat with a fire, and Justin cooked a large batch of tortes. Neither of us really knows what a torte is, but we figure it is something like what we're eating. It is the last night of just Justin and I aboard "Silent Partner". Tomorrrow in Port Hardy we pick up a third crewmember, Jakob.

August 27, 2005 Pruth Bay to Philip Inlet Day 180

2005-09-24T07:02:00.000-05:00

A fierce easterly wind funneled into the bay last night. I was awake for the greater part of the darkest hours, monitoring our position in the harbor. It was spitting rain in the grey morning, and it came down on the deck in thundering waves. The crab trap produced many more fine specimens of large Dungeness crab. I threw them all back, however. Justin and I have eaten our fill of crab (never thought I'd ever say that!) for now. Plus, we're still revelling in the glory of last nights "triple crown" meal. Justin and I turned the last of the halibut into an incredibly gourmet dip. Restaurant quality for sure. We're very proud of consuming the whole fish and of catching so many crab and other fish with its entrails. Toward afternoon we became restless and decided to make a run down Fitz Hugh Sound to an inlet, that would get us closer to our big crossing jump-off point into Southern B.C. I have never experienced such a rain! Squall after squall rolled up the sound. Visibility was reduced to near zero, and the whole surface of the sea began "smoking". It was a true flash flood, and every brook and stream exploded from the mountainsides in violent torrents of brown water, tearing through the trees. The tide remained permanetly high all day! Winds and seas rose sharply until we heard light-house reports of 35 knots with 45 knots expected. Fitz Hugh Sound became a windswept seascape of smothering foam and vertical chop, and waves started breaking over our bows. We sought the immediate shelter of Philip Inlet, which was calm and complete. What an incredible feeling it is to come into a safe harbor in a storm! There was scarely a ripple to be seen as we watched the clouds scuttle across the sky at incredible speeds above the mountaintops. We hunkered down and built a hot fire in the stove to dry the boat out. In the evening we were pleased to see Vic and Matt pull into the anchorage, too. Vic recommended this place in a storm. Thanks Vic! We pulled our anchor and rafted "Silent Partner" to "Galaxy" for the night. We all sat on Galaxy's deck and enjoyed a bottle of port while watching an Osprey hunt for fish. Justin baked a remarkable batch of tortes in the dutch oven. It was a most excellent evening of good company, good food, drink, and being safe and comfortable in a calm anchorage.

August 26, 2005 Spider Anchorage to Pruth Bay Day 179

2005-09-23T04:52:00.000-05:00

In the early morning we departed our fruitful kingdom by the sea. I hauled the trap which was stuffed with another load of Dungeness and Red Rock crabs, and kept two. We're really making our way south now. I entered back into "home waters" when we steamed across the Hakai Passage. However, after we pick up Jakob in Port Hardy we'll swing back up around Cape Scott at the northern tip of Vancouver Island and head down the west side. We dropped anchor in Pruth Bay and hiked a short trail overland to a white sand beach on the west side of the island. The scene before us was almost tropical and intoxicating. Nothing quite smells like a sand beach in the sunshine, with the surf pounding and gulls wheeling through the air. The pink beach cliffs and rounded rocks, set in the sand had a Fred Flinstone quality about them. It was as if a confusion of times and geographical locations had collided on this one stretch of beach. We picked our way along, squinting into the glare of the sun on such a vast area of white sand. Far off into the distance we saw two figures near the surf line gesturing to us. Then a faint "Pete! Pete!" At first I became alarmed that something had happened to the boat at anchor and that someone had come to find me. But we soon realized it was our friends Vic and Matt, from Baranoff! It was an uncanny reunion, on that beach in the middle of nowhere. Matt is hitching a ride south with Vic--the two of them bumped into each other in Petersburg. In the evening, the four of us put together the most remarkable dinner, which I call the "triple crown". Just before rowing over to Vic's boat "Galaxy" we pulled up many more large crab from the trap. Vic prepared a king salmon to perfection, and we baked the last of my halibut. And so, we ate fresh king salmon, halibut, crab, rice and salad for dinner, washed down with a bottle of beer! We eat well out here. A sharp rain and SE wind picked up throughout the evening, and the forecast is a grim one. Vic and I are both pleased to stall our southbound navigation for another day. We stayed up late playing guitar and singing. Vic knows some great songs of the sea. It has been yet another unexpected and wonderful day of the voyage.

August 25, 2005 Stryker Island to Spider Anchorage Day 178

2005-09-22T09:39:00.000-05:00

I challenged my navigational skills in transiting the length of the Queen's Sound area today. In the afternoon we anchored in the Spider Islands complex. Justin and I stuffed ourselves with poached and fried halibut for lunch, and then launched a major fishing expedition in Modulus. We prepared lures, bait buckets, and the crab trap and set out to catch fish. And catch fish we did!! Within 5 minutes Justin reeled in a kelp greenling. I threw out a chunk of halibut guts on a hook with a squid, and in ten minutes I was shouting for Justin to get my shirt and stuff it against my abdomen. The pole began to dig in and I knew I had a big one! An unbelievably huge ling cod surfaced, with a large rockfish in his mouth too! The ling cod was in the act of swallowing the rockfish (a meal in itself) whole! My line snapped in the retrieval however. It was "the big one that got away". I would have been heartbroken except that we still have some halibut meat. This ling cod was just as big as the halibut and would have been too much meat to handle! Still, I felt bad about putting it through the misery of being caught and not killed and eaten. I tried to catch it again and instead immediately pulled up a medium sized rock cod. Justin and I threw up our arms and agreed that it was ridiculous to go on fishing. Every cast would bring one in! On our way back we pulled the crab trap, which was teeming with crab! Today is a turning point for us as fishermen. We are currently living off of the sea, and now have the confidence that we could procure enough meat each day to survive indefinately. We have reached a point where we can tell all the species of crab and fish apart, know a bit about where to find them and which times and places are best to fish, and what species we are likely to find in each locale. We clean and cook our catch, fresh from the sea, and are learning tons about the lifestyles and habits of the creatures we eat. It all brings on a great deal of respect for this amazing place, as well as a deep interest in the continuing health of this ecosystem. Tonight we ate halibut, greenling, tiger rockfish, and crab for dinner! Bon Appetit!!

August 24, 2005 Shearwater to Stryker Island Nook Day 177

2005-09-21T16:45:00.000-05:00

We went out with the tide from Shearwater, and dropped down through a series of narrow passageways into the incredible Queen's Sound. We are in an area with thousands upon thousands of tiny rocky islands that form a giant maze and border the sea. We anchored early in the afternoon in a snug cove. For lunch: halibut cheeks fried in garlic butter, and halibut curry with rice and mango chutney. It was so delicious that we both began laughing uncontrollably. The remainder of the day was spent in a state of sublime relaxation. I did a little reading, puttered around on the boat, went beachcombing, and listened to music. Despite the seriousness of the voyage, we still live an extremely relaxing lifestyle. Days like this have a euphoric quality about them. In the evening a thick blanket of fog descended upon us, and we stood quietly in the cockpit listening to the sounds of dripping water and a gurgling noise that issued from a nearby cliff, as the tide dropped and water drained from a crevice deep within.

August 23, 2005 Klemtu to Shearwater Day 176

2005-09-20T13:31:00.000-05:00

I woke up several hours before sunrise in order to get us running for Shearwater ASAP. Before my eyes opened, I thought "Halibut" to myself and sprang out into the cockpit. The monster lay quietly in the cockpit, taking up all of my foot room. It glistened in the moonlight and looked like it would come back to life thrashing at any moment. We had a smooth ride all the way to Shearwater. It was quite a relief to get the halibut filleted and on ice! We took advantage of town life on a sunny afternoon and took showers, did our laundry, and cleaned up the boat a bit. In the evening I cooked fresh fish and chips aboard Silent Partner. They were bar none the best fish and chips we'd ever tasted! After we had semi-recovered from the massive amount of fish we'd just eaten ( and only made a small dent in our entire stock) we walked up to the bar at the end of the dock. They were the worst margaritas we'd ever had. We raised our glasses in a toast "the worst margaritas ever for the best halibut ever!" We downed our drinks in merriment and went to sleep happy, well-fed, and showered. We each have a full wardrobe of fresh laundry and an ice-chest full of delicious meat. The best things in life are unexpected! It is amazing how one fish has changed the course of the trip entirely.

August 22, 2005 Langley Passage to Klemtu Day 175

2005-09-19T06:51:00.000-05:00

In the morning I pored over my charts, tables, and indexes and estimated the time of low water slack for our infamous narrows. We idled up to it and held off for a half hour, and waited for the waters to become absolutely still. Justin cast out a fishing line as we slipped through and immediately caught a rockfish! This time we had a much more pleasant experience in the narrows. The fish went straight to the frying pan and we ate it as we headed out into the main channel. I was very content as I dined on that fine tasting fish and watched the depths drop off to 650 feet and more. Later in the evening after a long day of motoring against a strong spring tide we tried our luck again with fishing. We went up to an underwater pinnacle that goes from 950 feet deep to 8 feet deep within 50 yards. I rigged up the halibut pole with several pounds of lead weight, and put the head of the rockfish on a giant hook, and threw the setup down to the bottom 200 feet below. Five minutes later I felt a powerful tugging. "Justin" I said. "Justin! Justin!" I began to reel frantically and the pole dug into my stomach. Justin sprang down below and grabbed my sweater. I balled it up and used it as a cushion for my abdomen. Sweat began to flow and I used all of my strength to reel in. Justin tore through the boat, throwing things about while looking for the nets and gaff hook. It was pandemonium. Out of the corner of my eye the giant halibut floated to the surface!! I don't remember doing it, but somehow I managed to spear the halibut with the gaff hook and flip it into the cockpit. It then started thrashing violently and so powerfully--like a pair of kicking human legs. The halibut thundered against the sides of the cockpit, slamming the fiberglass, knocking everything into a confused heap and showering the entire boat in a spray of fish slime and blood! We began to scream like a couple of schoolgirls (we had a good laugh about that one later). Justin recalls a moment in time where all three of us--himself, myself and the halibut--were all flying through the air in the cockpit. With great effort we eventually pinned it down, avoiding the sharp hooks that were whipping around. It was so powerful that it took both of us to hold it to the floor. We sat there for a moment, sweating and deciding upon what to do. Axe? No. Too dangerous with the sharp blade. I grabbed the nearest metal winch handle and struck the fish hard blows. Even after it died it continued to thrash occasionally, threatening to flop out of the cockpit and injure the helmsman. We used metal wires to lash the halibut to the cockpit. After all had settled down we surveyed the wreckage of the cockpit. Charts, cruising guide, dodger,lines--everything was drenched in a shower of slime and blood. The fishing poles lay in a tangled heap amongst a pile of dishes and sailing gear that had been knocked over in the thrashing. And most of all, the giant halibut lay sprawled in the bottom of it all, dominating the whole cockpit. The fish's lips alone were larger than our own! For the next hour we cleaned the boat and cleared away the wreckage. "This changes everything, Pete," said Justin. Indeed. We needed to formulate a plan in which to get to the nearest town so we could get the fish on ice. We now had an incredible amount of meat, and must not let any of it go to waste. We were way out in the middle of nowhere. Almost as if it were meant to be, the boat had drifted right back onto course by the time we were able to get up and running again. I looked at a chart and found Klemtu, a small village, to be the nearest "civilization". We ran all through the night carrying "all canvas and steam" and made haste for Klemtu. On the long run there we encountered fog, rain, and darkness. But none of that mattered. I was so thrilled and grateful for catching the huge fish that my only thoughts were of preparing it and getting ice. We finally reached Klemtu in the middle of the night, and tied up to a public dock. Our neighbors were a begrudging fisherman and a drink skipper of a large powerboat. He was half-naked and messing around with the fuse box on the dock. His wife was yelling at him from somewhere inside the boat as the lights on the dock flickered on and off. Nobody in town--not even the cannery or a large coast guard ship--had any ice whatsoever! We would have to make another 30 mile run to the village of Shearwater in the morning. I constructed a crude fortress of buckets and boat cushions around the halibut to keep the birds off it, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

August 21, 2005 Geodetic Cove to Langley Passage Day 174

2005-09-17T06:20:00.000-05:00

It was an eerie and restless night. Early on, massive swarms of fierce biting gnats descended upon the boat and gathered in clouds under the dodger. We were forced to seal up the hatches. Several times in the night I had to adjust the anchor rode length. The cove is narrow and the tides extreme, and we had little swinging room. In the morning Justin remarked that there was something different about the day. Indeed, it was a strange one! In our crab trap we found a rock sole (too small to eat) and the most incredible crab ever! It was a rainbow of purple, red, and orange spikes, covered in barnacles, and the size of a football. It was too beautiful to eat, and we released it. We never know what we're going to pull up from the bottom. I always eagerly peer over the side of the boat as the trap comes into view to get the first glimpse of the strange creatures inside. We didn't have to travel far today, but it was a most unnerving and hazardous day of navigation. Making our way around the uncharted Estevan complex, we entered Langley Narrows. The chart was a black and white hand-drawn sketch from WWII. I reduced speed to bare minimum and glanced nervously from the sketch to the shore many times as we picked our way along. Suddenly the current became very strong and we were pulled at a high speed into the narrows! The water was clear and ony 10 feet deep or so, with many rocks, reefs, and ledges waiting to puncture a boat hull. The treacherous waters ahead turned into an unexpected full-blown rapids, and we were whisked along at a heart-stopping 7 knots through a notch that was no wider than two boat lengths!! A side channel entered in, catching our stern and whipping it around and into a backeddy like the boat was nothing more than a matchstick. All around, the whitewater roared, and suddenly we were going through the narrows backwards! I shouted one loud and well-pronounced swear word and went into "combat mode". The next 30 seconds of my life were spent entirely on studying the swirling waters, applying quick manoeuvres with throttle and tiller (in reverse!!), and appealing to a higher power. And then, as soon as it came, the the waters panned out and we were left bobbing in peace and disbelief. I felt like a fool, relieved, and extremely lucky! We plucked our way through the intricate channel of the inner chamber for several miles, winding through a maze and clutter of islands. This was true exploration! After dropping anchor in a sunny and calm basin we poured ourselves two tots of rum and relaxed. In the afternoon Justin and I explored the blank areas of the sketch with Modulus. We slipped through a narrow notch in one corner of our anchorage. The tide carried us along and into another chamber with several forested "hallways" and more chambers at the end of each. It was a neverending maze! At each junction, we carefully studied the trees and rocks around it so that we could find our way back. I was in my element. Eventually we came across a bay with some buildings and boats in a corner, reportedly an abalone farm. We stepped out onto the rickety docks and called out for the owners. Dan and Danielle Pollock greeted us, and allowed us to explore the property. The place was built during WWII as a loran station. It has been long out of service and much of it lay in disrepair and ruin. We walked along a massive wooden road that led deep into the heart of the island. The scene was a strange one--stunted bonzai trees, muskeg, and small lakes everywhere. Water filtered up through neon-colored mosses and soaked my shoes when I stepped off the planking. The road led up a small mountain and became increasingly rickety. We tested the boards before commiting our weight to them. At the top we came across the old heliocopter pad! A dozen barrels of jet fuel still lay tipped over in the bushes beside the pad. A soft breeze blew across the concrete, and we surveyed the vast, lonely expanse of islands and water all around us. Even on this sunny warm day, Justin and I felt a sense of desolation about the area. Several antennae bristled atop a nearby mountain peak. They were used during the cold war as a first-defense anti-ballistic missle unit. In the mud beside us, I found the largest canine track I'd ever seen. Back at the docks we talked with Dan and Danielle. They said the tracks belonged to a huge black wolf that makes a circuit by there every full moon, and that there were about 60 wolves on the island. They pointed out ancient petroglyphs on the rocks, told us how to get up to the antennaes, and taught us many ways of collecting seafood. "I'll be writing in my journal about how you guys are the first boat to come through the narrows backwards and throw away a box crab!" said Danielle, and we all laughed. They were such nice people and interesting people. Upon our leaving, Danielle gifted us with a bottle of salal syrup which she had made on the island, and then we let the tide caay us back through the islands to our boat.

August 20, 2005 Ramsay Passage to Geoetic Cove Day 173

2005-09-16T07:49:00.000-05:00

Today goes down in "Silent Partner" history as one of her finest sails. It was A+, world-class sailing! We awoke, tapped the barometer, and listened to the 0400 forecast over the radio. Winds S, to 30 knots, then weakening. Our course was E by NE. Under a full moon and still at anchor, we hoisted the main and secured a reef. On our way out of the cove we picked up our crab trap, which revealed two fine specimens! Perfect for dinner. Justin put them into a bucket and they began fighting each other, but soon mellowed out. It proved to be a clear morning. "Silent Partner" rose to the swell and punched through the waves like a champion! The wind freshened and it blew a sweet and a pleasant gale. With a bone in her teeth, "Silent Partner" tore through the water leaving a twin-tailed wake of hissing foam. My god, but it was excellent sailing the whole way! Sea-spray curled over the deck and blew off to leeward over the bows, one of my favorite things to watch. Occasionally a wave thumped the hull, and thick globules of Hecate Strait waters slapped the deck and my back. At the turn of the tide the seas steeped and began to break, with an ugly 6 foot chop on top of the swell. But we reefed down even more and flew right along at 7.5 knots and greater. In all, our crossing to the mainland was one continuous 70 mile tack. I am so proud of the way "Silent Partner" handled in those seas. We made landfall in the uncharted Estevan Islands complex, and encountered steep tide rips where the Inside Passage pours into the sea. The full moon makes for strong tides! We passed by a pod of real killer whales this time--about 6 ot them--and one large gray whale. Justin killed and cooked the crabs for dinner, and here we sit in Geodetic Cove. A family of river otters plays by a small waterfall and we're ready for another peaceful night at anchor. Amen.

August 19, 2005 Layover day: Ramsey Passage Cove

2005-09-15T07:47:00.000-05:00

With rain on the deck and pressure systems on the move, we decided to lay in today and linger one more day in Haida Gwaii. We are perched at the edge of Hecate Strait, preparing for the crossing back to the BC mainland coast. Justin and I had a "day of silence" in which we don't speak to each other for the whole day. It is our way of giving each other personal space every now and then, and works quite well. He's just wrapping up another long love letter to his girlfriend Christina with a flourish. In the morning mist Modulus and I went for the most incredible row among the tide pools. Crystal water revealed a scene equally as colorful and varied as any I've seen in the tropics! I discovered many new life forms that I didn't know even existed, both plant and animal. Bright blue and purple starfish, billions of sea urchins, kelp forests, and pink corals slathered every rock, pool, and ledge. I was followed around by a large school of perch, and an occasional kelp greenling poked his head out from under the rocks 30 feet below. I snuck up on a mink and an oystercatcher that was whacking apart a sea urchin. There were sea cucumbers and all kinds of crabs. The kelp rocked back and forth in the gentle surge. I rested my hands on the gunnels and took it all in as I drifted along in the current. Like an old friend, Modulus is always there during these extra-special moments of the voyage. The water was so flat I may as well have been snorkeling. When the tide came up enough I passed over a shallow sandbar and back to the boat, where Justin was cooking johnny cakes for breakfast. In the afternoon I went for an "extreme row" in Modulus to Hot Springs Island. Wind and current were both against me on the long, hard row and waves continually splashed into the boat, soaking me. I took pleasure in the workout and on the way discovered a thundering and gushing blowhole! As I was paddling around a rocky cliff I felt the whole face of it shake each time the swell came up on the rocks. Water was forced through an underground fissure and shot up in a violent plume! I hopped out onto the cliffs for a closer investigation, so that I might become showered in the mist and hear it at its loudest booming. Today I had Hot Springs Island all to myself. I soaked for several hours and watched the ravens fly close overhead. Justin had pointed out the other day how they cant their tails to shift direction of flight. They continually hovered overhead, cocking their tails and eyeing me in the pools below. Both my boats were safe in harbor--Silent Partner tied snug to a mooring buoy with Justin aboard and Modulus hauled high on the beach and tied to an alder tree. I was able to enjoy my soak to its fullest. On my row back it began to pour a warm rain, and I had my second "soak". We are running out of fresh water on the boat. The mountains of Haida Gwaii are relatively lower and water on the islands is scant. I rigged up a raincatcher on the bow with one of those tinfoil space blankets and a few clothespins. It did quite well and the water is soft and sweet. We got a fire going inside to keep everything dry in the cabin, and boiled a pot of pasta and several cups of tea over the firebox.

August 18, 2005 Sac Bay to Ramsay Passage Cove Day 171

2005-09-15T06:46:00.000-05:00

Where is August going? The days snap by. As we left Sac Bay fingers of fog and cloud curled over the mountain tops. Further out into the channel we saw a massive wall of cloud quickly advancing toward us! As the wind struck the peaks, lenticular clouds formed over them, mimicking the silhoutte of the ridge. There was a doomsday quality about the whole scene, like a giant curtain dropping. A dozen dolphins swam by off the starboard bow as the mohawked Justin handed me a plate of eggs and toast. Ahh, life is good. An hour later we anchored off of Hot Springs Island and rowed to shore for a soak. Justin and I found G.I. Joe figures washed up on the beach, a major find! Needless to say, the island is complete paradise. Several large hot pools overlooked the sea. I jumped into the ocean and didn't even shiver. Apparently the water here is warmer than ever recorded this year. We relaxed in a particularly nice pool for hours. I would say that we soaked the stress of our daily lives away, but there was none to be had. Later we picked up a mooring buoy in a cove a mile away and took long afternoon naps in the sun. The rest of the day melted away into relaxation, cooking, dinner, reading, and writing.

August 17, 2005 Bag Harbour to Sac Bay Day 170

2005-09-14T17:15:00.000-05:00

I was exhilirated when I opened my eyes this morning to blue windows and hot sunshine pouring into the boat. Winds were light and we made a safe passage around the outside of Burnaby Island while the weather was good. I decided not to take the shortcut of Dolomite Narrows. There is no reason to put the boat into a potentially hazardous situation. Justin has become very good about understanding my conservative decisions regarding navigation. Our common goal, as we head closer to Washington state, is a safe return. Together we take a certain pride in being prudent (but not overly so). The wind freshened in the afternoon and we had an excellent tack into Sac Bay. Sunshine kept our spirits high, although we acknowledged a high cirrus developing, bringing the promise of rain. At anchor I gave my very first haircut to Justin. He now sports a wonderful, well-defined mohawk. I don't know which of us is pleased with it more! We rowed to shore so that Justin could jump into the river and clean the itchy hair bits off. I bolted up the side of the mountain and searched for a swimming hole in the sun. Running higher and higher up the mountain and into the alpine country I became almost frantic in my quest to find a swimming hole in the sunshine. The long shadows of the jagged mountain peaks were fast making their way up the valley. It became a race against time, and I flew with sweat in my eyes and cedar limbs tearing at my arms and legs. Finally I broke out into the sunshine, and there before me was a thundering waterfall with several plunge pools and basins! I cast off my clothing and stepped in...the plunge pool was much deeper than I thought and the water warm! Very quickly it became one of the best swims of my life. The rocks were covered in short moss, perfect for sitting on. The hydraulic flow of the waterfall washed my hair in two seconds flat and the view of the surreal mountains couldn't be beat. Far below I could see the white speck of "Silent Patner" at anchor and somewhere down there Justin was enjoying his new mohawk. Life is good! I couldn't help but jump back into the pools and under the waterfalls 10 times or so. I followed the cascading waterfalls over the boulders all the way back down to the sea, and came across countless stellar swimming holes. On the way back I made a major botanical discovery--an insect-eating plant that catches bugs with its sticky antennae. I've been looking to find these strange plants for years. It is a shining moment in time.

August 16, 2005 Ikeda Cove to Bag Harbour Day 169

2005-09-14T16:38:00.000-05:00

We decided upon sleeping in when we heard rain pattering on the deck in the early morning. It never let up and we eventually set out into the gray Hectate Strait. We were on an excellent tack into Bag Harbour when a small gaff-rig sailboat closed in on us. In it was a man with a large beard and smile. We talked for a bit as our vessels were each making the same speed. I believe that it was the first time I've "had a gam" with another skipper on the open sea. The waters around Dolomite narrows turned a vibrant electric blue neon color, almost scarey! Dolomite narrows apparently has the highest concentration of protein per square meter than anywhere else on earth. It is too shallow to navigate for my liking, so we anchored up and explored it with Modulus. 10 deer greeted us on the lush tidal flats as we made our way through the waters. The bottom was littered with huge barnacles, starfish of all colors, and irridescent seaweeds. At one point we reached in and pulled out a red rock crab. The marine life is so abundant here that you can just stick your arm in the water and pull out your dinner! We found two old cabins that reminded me of the puestos of Chile. And there were all manner of eagles, seals, sandhill cranes, and deer, deer everywhere. And then we saw the killer whales! A pod of 10 or so of them was feeding at the tideline about a mile from where we were drifting. We could see their large dorsal fins arc-ing through the waters. A stillness hung over the whole channel. The only sounds to be heard were the chuffing of the whales, punctuating the air, and the occasional chittering of a bald eagle. "Justin", I said. For lack of a coin, we flipped the spare oarlock. All three times indicted that we should head back to the boat. I promptly swung Modulus around and made a bee-line for the squadron of whales. Suddenly one appeared very close to us, its dorsal cutting a path directly for us! Justin hunkered down and away from the gunnels, until we realized our killer whales were in fact a pod of very large dolphins. We were only momentarily disappointed, for we found ourselves in the center of the pod! They were big as cows and surrounded us on all quadrants. According to the field guide, they were feeding on squid. I rowed faster and the squadron veered toward us. They came to within 10 feet of us, several times leaping completely out of the water. Each one had intricate markings and patterns on its sides. It made for quite another experience seeing the dolphins leaping around us from Modulus! We had to look UP when they jumped! "Ten feet, Pete! Ten feet" shouted Justin. We laughed about the "ten foot" rule that seems to be following us. Grizzly and black bears, countless humpbacks, and even the sperm whale surfacing event were all within ten feet. Ten feet is also a lot smaller when you're dealing with the world's largest mammals and cow-sized dolphins! Our row amongst the dolphins gave us a pure adrenaline rush. What an incredible animal. We rowed home in the drizzle and had a quick fire to dry out the cabin before we went to bed.

August 15, 2005 Cadman Point Cove to Ikeda Cove Day 168

2005-09-14T16:22:00.000-05:00

I rose early, hauled anchor, and got the boat underweigh while Justin slept below. I enjoyed the fog-free morning, and we passed the southern tip of Moresby Island with a good tide. We are anchored up in Ikeda Cove. An extensive search for some Japanese tombstones proved fruitless, although it was a stellar exploration. The forest was a cathedral of alder trees, interspersed with huge, silent cedar trees. A thick layer of bright green moss covered the entire forest floor, with an occasional clearing of grass where many deer could be found. The effect it gave was like being in a quiet churchyard. We stalked our way among the green shadows and "hunted" deer with small stones. Justin and I came across many ruins--old barges, boats, rusting wood stoves, tram tracks, and cabin remains. We even found a rotting mass of bamboo, possibly left from those who are buried here! Justin remarked that every anchorage has the same trees, rocks, animals etc, but that every one has a totally different feel to it. I agree. Each place has its own different concentrations of flora and fauna, but it is amazing how much of a contrast there is to each cove on this coast. We spent the evening sorting and consolidating our food supplies, and cleaning the boat. Our food locker has gone from being a "bottomless and mysterious treasure chest" as Christoph put it, to a sober and organized pile with all contents visible.

August 14, 2005 Tcuga Cove and Lagoon to Cadman Point Cove Day 167

2005-09-14T10:08:00.000-05:00

The great fog persisted until afternoon, when we suddenly sailed out from under it and a sharp line of blue sky appeared where it ended. Favorable winds and a building swell dictated that we not linger any more on the wild west coast of the Queen Charlottes. We have been lucky! Around noon we anchored in a rocky and windy area and explored the island and village of SGaang Gwaii. SGaang Gwaii was a village inhabited by the Haida people for over 10,000 years! Today there are still several Haida watchmen living there who showed us around the old village site.

August 13, 2005 Kootenay Inlet to Tcuga Cove and Lagoon Day 166

2005-09-14T09:16:00.000-05:00

Today was a continuation of what Justin and I are starting to call the "great fog". A weather pattern is firmly established in which there are calm evenings and mornings followed by windy afternoons. The winds are from the northwest and the fog at sea is ever-present, never lifting. We take advantage of the calm mornings and do our west coast transit before the swells and breakers become too violent. The ocean continues to cast up great miracles. The first of which was a plate of crab cakes with fried eggs on top for breakfast! Not a bad way to start the day. Justin and I can safely say that we have had our fill of crab for now. The satellite phone crab cakes worked! Through the billows of fog we made our way back out to the abyss. A sea lion broke the surface with a blaze-orange canary rockfish in its mouth. The rock fish was the size of a basketball and still alive and thrashing! Farther out the swell picked up. Suddenly a whale spouted and surfaced right by the boat! Justin and I found ourselves not but 10 feet away from the largest whale we'd ever seen--a sperm whale! Its blunt head resembled those giant ice breakers on supertankers. The waters all around the boat began to boil, and our shallow water alarm sounded when it read a depth of 4 feet. To be so close to one of the world's largest animals, and see every wrinkle and fold in its skin, was something else. "Silent Partner" was dwarfed by the immensity of the whale. I was so dumbfounded by the sight that the possibility of collision didn't enter my mind until after the event. How lucky we are to be witness to such a spectacular animal. Tcuga Cove is poised at the edge of the sea, and "Silent Partner" rocks gently in the surge. We found piles and piles of fascinating shells all over the beaches, towering old-growth spruce forests, and deer that were unafraid of us. We walked right up to 5 of them and they continued to keep their heads bent to the grass, feeding. We found an ancient wooden shipwreck on the rocks and explored the storm-beaten coast. There was flotsam and jetsam of all sorts washed high up on shore--numerous fenders, trawling buoys, and bottles from China, Japan, and even Brazil. Today the foggy coastline is an extremely lonely place. The roaring crash of surf fills our ears and there isn't a speck of humanity (except for the jetsam) anywhere. It is an extremely remote and uncharted coast! A cove just north of here is said to contain the long-lost village of Saolangai, but today is was hidden in the fog.

August 12, 2005 Armentieres Channel to Kootenay Inlet Day 165

2005-09-13T18:34:00.000-05:00

The crab trap produced more fantastic specimens this morning. Popeye went on the defense--claws up-- when I stepped out into the cockpit to take my morning pee over the side. Heavy and billowing fog settled onto the entire coast. Within the anchorage giant schools of herring roiled the surface of the water. It was a constant and fantastic show. Justin caught a herring with our buzz bomb. It swam countless circles around the anchor chain and fouled things up pretty well! After much deliberation I decided to run in the fog. The whole west coast of Moresby is uncharted and seldom traveled. We struck a route well out to sea, off the edge of an abyss that quickly dropped to depths of 3,000 feet and greater. With the axe, Justin made quick work of the crabs. Popeye gave Justin a fright and actually gripped the axe and held on tight. We boiled them and had fresh crab for breakfast! I shelled the rest and put the meat into a big pot. All the claws were so large that I had to use the hammer to break the meat out. The fog never lifted on the ocean. It made for an exciting entrance into the uncharted Kootenay Inlet. As we neared land I reduced speed to one knot and a giant rock island came into view, directly in front of us. It was well over 100 feet tall and very large with reefs around it, and I could scarecly believe something that big wouldn't even show up on a chart! Small breaks in the fog revealed a totally rugged, wave-scoured shoreline of unforgiving rock. Once inside the inlet the fog bank ended abruptly and it was a sunny day 1/2 mile in-shore! We proceeded with caution around many uncharted reefs, my heart pounding when the depth sounder alarm went off, indicating shallow water. Justin and I were awed by the view that unfolded before us. On the sunny side we watched as the fog bank broke over the first chain of mountains and spilled down through the trees below. The treetops ripped the fog bank to shreds. It was like seeing a silent Niagara Falls of fog cascading into the inlet, because of the enormous proportions. The fog that damned our navigation that day gave us a moment of incredible beauty and made it all worthwhile right then. Dr. Suess lorax trees cling to the cliff walls of our anchorage. We ate crab claw sandwiches for lunch in the sunshine, and the thick wall of fog remained poised on the edge of the sea all day without letting up. Justin and I explored a river valley. Like all the rest, it was pristine and had trees of dizzying proportions. I cannot emphasize enough how incredible it feels just being in such places as this. Time and space fly out the window and every footstep reveals new treasures. I found a perfect swimming hole in the gravel by the river. I took a warm soak in the sun with trout and sculpins swimming around me. Just as I was getting out the tide rose and began spilling cold saltwater over the lip into the pool. In the evening I called my Mom on the satellite phone to get a recipe for crab cakes. The signal was very broken but I managed to hear about half of the ingredients she listed before the phone cut out. Justin is very good at improvising in the galley, and he served up a large batch of delicious crab cakes! We laughed at our success and enjoy living off the bounty of the sea.

August 11 Continued.........

2005-09-12T21:30:00.001-05:00

Out of the corner of my eye a large black potential cougar shot like an arrow silently through the forest. Soon we found the tracks of a cat and its scat. And at the river we encountered a bear. Never before had we seen so much bear scat. There were mounds of it literally every 5 feet in all directions out on the grassy tidal flats. And then we came to an abrupt stop on the edge of the beach where we saw the most remarkable thing of all: A giant squid had surfaced from the depths and washed itself onto the beach! We had never seen anything like it before, couldn't have imagined such a foreign life form. It was if we had landed in Modulus on the shores of a different planet in a different time. Within 10 minutes we had encountered a bear, a large cat, and a giant squid! I experienced a moment of infinite expansion and asked myself "What else is possible?" The huge trees of the forest drew us onward. They were trees with all kinds of other species of large trees growing from them from 100 feet up in the canopy. Cedar trees supported their own forests of alder, spruce, ferns, hemlock, and always a thick cloak of moss hanging from every branch. It was a privilege being amongst such a forest, the last of it's kind. Losing myself in thought I stepped unsuspectingly into a pool of quicksand. Justin and I exchanged a glance as if to say " Could this place get any cooler?" as I pulled my legs out of the mud. Suddenly we heard human voices and instinctively dove for cover. Kayakers. They couldn't see us, but then one of them looked right at the bush we were hiding behind. "Is that a deer on the beach? I wish I had my shotgun". The deer was directly below us and we were happy he didn't have a gun! We stalked the kayakers until their boats vanished into the curve of the horizon. Eagles chirruped overhead and the onset of darkness allowed the first thoughts of returning to the mothership. The tide had come out more, exposing a larger area of beaches. And there, the North Pacific Ocean had thrown up more of her wonders of the deep. Justin and I refer to it as the "Giant Squid Beaching Event" and stared unbelievingly at seven of the massive creatures, all in a cluster. Some appeared to have just died and stared at us with empty eyes, while others had been sampled by the eagles and bears. "The bears are eating god-damned calamari for dinner out here" said Justin. "Calamari for dinner" I replied. Every beach was strewn with these giant squid! Deer and vibrant green tree frogs had also come out for the sunset. We pushed away from that amazing shore with a new perspective on life and time. On our way back we hauled the crab trap. The line was heavy and we expected kelp or a 19-armed starfish. Nope-- MOTHERLODE!! The pot was stuffed with Red Rock crab and one enormous Dungeness crab. All male, all well over legal size. They had torn open the bait jars and were stuffing themselves. Justin and I started howling and somewhere in the excitement I lost my sunglasses overboard. We don't know how the big dungeness even fit into the trap! One of the crabs had ridiculously large claws, that were very disproportionate to his body. And he really knew how to use them! He locked onto the trap and then tried to nip off my finger as he drove his other pointy legs into my glove. We nick-named him "Popeye". Popeye began pinching the legs off of the other crabs that got close to him. We put him in "solitary confinement" for the night, another crab's leg in his robust pincher, and the others in an another bucket. As the sun went down a thick fog rolled into the anchorage from the sea. Periodically throughout the night I was woken by the rustling of crab legs as they moved about in the buckets in the cockpit. When I went out to check on them and change the water, a sea bird flew smack into my flashlight beam and landed in the bucket! I quickly turned out the light out, and hoped the bird would escape before popeye got to him.

August 11, 2005 Queen Charlotte City to Armentieres Channel Day 164

2005-09-12T20:59:00.000-05:00

The day began with eggs benedict at the local restaurant. It was a good square meal and an omen of the rest of the day's unusually odd and fantastic events! Justin went off and did his last-minute town chores while I combed the docks asking for local advice on timing Skidegate Narrows correctly. Everyone gave me a completely different answer. The coast guard said "If you go on the rocks, just do it after 1600 hours so we can get overtime pay." I topped off our water tanks and hitchhiked to the gas station up the road with two jerry cans. Expensive gas!! 10 gallons for $50.00 Canadian. Ouch! Hitching back was an experience. My car did a U-turn in the road and swerved over to pick me up. Inside was a questionable man that was prepared to take me down the road in the direction he had just come from. "Just throw the cans in the back seat there. You see, if I was an airline pilot I would say "no" because you have dangerous and illegal and flammable cargo, but we're not in an airplane so I don't care". OK, I thought, this will work. On the way he told me of his idea he'd been formulating to hitchhike across Canada with a hinged jerry can, containing his whole camp. "Then everybody'd pick you up, heh, because you look like you're out gas. So I saw you standing there with those cans and couldn't believe it, so I had to pick you up. Then when you get to town you just put the can into a canvas sack and you look normal". At the marina I hopped out and thanked him for the ride, met Justin, and we cast off and bid farewell to Queen Charlotte City. A brisk wind piped up as we entered the infamous narrows. Mile after mile of shallow winding passage, with strong currents and a constantly changing bottom. Large parts of it go completely dry on a 6-foot tide! Today we were lucky and passed without incident. Once through we found ourselves on the wild west side of the Queen Charlotte Islands. The combination of gale-force westerlies, steep chop, and an alternation of thick fog and searing sunshine forced us to seek immediate shelter. Any harbor in a storm. After anchoring and relaxing the tension of our narrows transit away for a few hours, we set the crab trap and rowed to shore. What we found there was an experience like no other. We picked our way along colossal pillars of cedar and spruce in complete silence. The place had a feel about it. Not only were we in an unimaginably vibrant and healthy ecosystem, it also felt like we had gone back in time somehow. Eventually bringing ourselves to speak in whispers we agreed that the feeling was not of our imaginations, but of something instinctual and rooted to a deeper past. I have no idea why it was, but I felt ageless and was brought to the verge of tears of joy.

August 10, 2005 Larsen Harbor to Queen Charlotte City Day 163

2005-09-12T20:47:00.000-05:00

Alarm goes off at 4AM. Listen to forecast. Great! The sky was clear, brilliant stars and planets. Yes, no fog!! Wake Justin, reef the mainsail, prepare for the crossing. We had a totally successful crossing in bright sunshine and almost no swell. Justin even caught a bit of sleep on the lee rail. In the late afternoon we arrived at Sandpit with the hopes of obtaining fuel. But the dock was only open from 6PM to 9PM. "Welcome to the Charlottes" said a local when we asked why the hours were so strange. We steamed on another 6 miles to Queen Charlotte City. It turned out to be our favorite city in B.C.! We met many nice people. At Howlers Pub I had the most pleasant bar experience I've ever had. We spent the evening talking with a great group of Canadians and making new friends.

August 9, 2005 Lawson Harbor to Larsen Harbor Day 162

2005-09-12T20:37:00.000-05:00

I almost fell off overboard while peeing off the stern in the black of night. I jumpd when a sudden splash and flash of light erupted in the water below me. It was a surprised seal, and I could clearly see it swimming underwater in a brilliant cloud of phosphorescence. We slept in this morning, napping, while listening to the lonely fog horns of the big ships in the channel. It remained completely socked in until noon. It was good to wait for a better tide anyways. The wind came up in the afternoon and gave us high-adrenaline beam seas on our way to Larsen Harbor. Larsen Harbor is an awesome place that we had all to ourselves. It is sea-swept and perched on the edge of the Hecate Strait. Tomorrow we make the jump to the Queen Charlotte Islands, 60 nautical miles away.

August 8, 2005 Prince Rupert to Lawson Harbour Day 161

2005-09-12T20:07:00.000-05:00

What a hot, sweltering day to be on land! Ugh. We ran around and did necessary chores until I was drenched in sweat and ready to hit the water again. I rode our shopping cart down a long hill and all the way to the boat, Picking up speed I pulled into the main traffic lane and enjoyed the breeze. Traffic began to yield for me as the cart achieved "terminal velocity". Several kids whose strength I underestimated helped me to lower the cart the final step to the dock, and I unloaded our precious cargo of perishable foods into the cool lockers of the boat before the sun had a chance to get to them. We had a good little sail down Chatham Strait, to Lawson Harbor. A strong outflow wind blew down off the Fraser River delta, making our anchorage a bit windy, but nice and cool.

August 7, 2005 Charlie's Cove to Prince Rupert Day 160

2005-09-12T19:25:00.000-05:00

Today marks a major turning point in the voyage. Crossing the international maritime boundry back into upper British Columbia, "Silent Partner" bid farewell to Alaskan waters. She is ready to make her fourth trip down the B.C. coast. Morningtime found us in a thick fog, making it impossible to see even the shoreline of our anchorage 100 feet away. However, we had a long day ahead of us sailing down the middle of Dixon Entrance, and we prepared for sea. One last time we broke the anchor out of Alaskan mud and hauled it aboard and steamed from the foggy archipelago of the Barrier Islands. For several hours visibility was zero. Strange shapes of blurred logs, kelp, birds, and nearby islands loomed past and then vaporized into the thick billows of fog. We proceeded out to sea issuing "securite" broadcasts on the radio and blowing our fog horn every two minutes. Once in the Dixon Entrance the sun began to break through, creating "fogbows" and revealing a cloudless blue sky above. Several humpback whales were far out in the entrance, feeding. The fog finally cleared and afforded us one last look at the magnificent shores of Alaska before it faded into obscurity with haze and increasing distance. I have seen the most amazing natural wonders here in Alaska, far beyond anything I could ever have imagined. Already even my own memories of the place seem legendary to me--some instances have been so spectacular and beyond the description of words that I can scarecly believe what I saw! But all those images are permanently etched in my mind, and I will never forget them. I will return. I had many mixed feelings as we sailed into British Columbia. First and foremost was the exhilration at having safely navigated the coast of Alaska all the way to Homer. I am also beginning to ask myself why am I heading back down to all the madness and pandemonium of Puget Sound? This morning all we could hear were the echoes of chattering eagles, the splash of salmon, and the soft sounds of rushing water from the sea surge. And despite the pure remoteness of the place, we have met so many incredible people with whom we share common bonds with, just because we're there. Everybody has adventures to share. We celebrated our crossing the line with a few cans of Canada Dry ginger ale. I became morose upon leaving incredible Alaska, although I can't complain about the coast of B.C. Dixon Entrance treated us well today. We sailed right down the middle of it, losing all sight of land for several hours. Towering cumulus clouds built up over all the continental landmasses. It was remarkable to see the shapes of the shorelines mimicked by the clouds, but not the land itself. In the evening we caught a perfect tide into Venn Passage. All the mountains of the B.C. mainland coast turned a deep purple in the sunset. I cleared customs by telephone ( a long way to go for a phone call!) and we marched up to the bar and had victory margaritas.

August 6, 2005 Dunbar Inlet to Charlie's Cove Day 159

2005-09-12T09:52:00.000-05:00

We finally saw sunbreaks today! In Charlie's Cove, I took my last exploration of Alaskan soil for this trip. We watched a stellar sunset while dining on sockeye salmon. Justin made an attempt at dessert: bananas fried in rum with chocolate and toasted walnuts on top. I thought it was pretty good, but Justin was dissatisfied with the presentation. The meal looked as if a seagull might have visited the plate. Oh well. I have come to really appreciate all of Justin's cooking. He takes great pride in it, is good at experimenting in the galley, and always hands me the nicer plate of food. A true chef, and a true friend. While Justin is growing ecstatic about entering BC tomorrow, I am sad to be leaving Alaska. The "Alaska" chapter of Voyage Alaska 2005 is coming to an end. I will return. This place is in my blood.

August 5, 2005 Craig to Dunbar Inlet Day 158

2005-09-12T09:45:00.000-05:00

Justin and I skipped out of town in the rain, happy to be on the road again. We have a lot of British Columbia stretching out below us, and not a lot of time to explore it. Before leaving we took on a load of wood scraps from the dock. Good cedar planings, perfect for kindling! Overall, it was a fairly uneventful day. Lots of motoring in the rain. Kit left us a gift of red snapper which we found in the cockpit. Justin and I stopped the boat in the afternoon when the weather cleared a bit. We took a "siesta" and ate the delicious red snapper in the cockpit. Jakob and Amos gave us halibut and salmon, and once again we have all the fish we can handle. Kit offered us another salmon before we left, too, and I had to regretfully decline. I timed the tides wrong in the Tlevak narrows and we managed to just barely get through, going one knot with the engine full-out.

August 2-4, 2005 Waiting out Storm in Craig Days 155-157

2005-09-12T09:31:00.000-05:00

The weather collapsed the following week and we were storm-bound in Craig for several days. Jakob, Amos, Alison, and Davis (whom I fished with last fall) came into town on their day off. It was a great rendez-vous! Fishing has been going well for them, despite a bit more rain than usual and lower prices for the fish. Several days blended into one another, with nights in the bars and days frittered away doing town chores.

August 1, 2005 Nagasay Cove to Craig Day 154

2005-09-12T09:19:00.000-05:00

A light westerly breeze produced a fantastic sail across the Gulf of Esquibel this morning. The humpback whales were out in full force, putting on quite a show! It turned into a beautiful sunny day, as is usual when we come into a town. Justin and I secured a berth in the marina, then walked all over town, stretching our legs. In the evening we even went for a run (a long run!) down the road to Klawock and it got very dark out. We tried hitchhiking back to Craig, with no luck! It must be a combination of the darkness, my beard, and our sweaty appearance. Still, we stood under a light and over 40 cars passed us! Finally we gave up in disgust and started running the long dark road back. Thank god we got picked up mid-way back by a man named Kit! We were exhausted after our ambitious run. One of the fishermen let me use the shower on his seiner. "You a water person? Good. Shower's right here, I just got the hot water hooked up today". Later on I was invited to a salmon dinner aboard his boat. I spent the evening with him and his crew, and two fine young ladies who are living aboard another boat adjacent to ours. I am beginning to love this life of the traveller.

July 31, 2005 Gedney Harbor to Nagasay Cove Day 153

2005-09-05T09:26:00.000-05:00

By 5:10 AM I had seen whales, bears, eagles, and salmon again. As I hauled anchor in the early morning light I watched a massive grizzly strut the beach, pawing at the boulders in search for crab. Out in the straits many humpback whales continued to breach completely out of the water. Viewing such a colossal animal--even from as close as we were--is like watching a slow motion re-play. Sort of like watching waves crash on a beach from an airplane. When the whales hit the water again they made gigantic splashes accompanied by big foaming piles of seething white water. "Storm white" is what my family uses to describe the remarkable color that white objects take on when viewed at sea on an overcast day. This morning the whales leapt as if in slow motion and created billowing storm-white splashes all around. The whole scene was quite surreal. In the afternoon we enjoyed sunshine and had an uneventful yet beautiful passage into the Gulf of Esquibel. The Gulf turned out to be another major whale feeding ground. I was surprised when the giant arched back surfaced directly under our bow. The whale threw its flukes to the side and narrowly missed hitting the boat. Whenever I see a whale this close I am too preoccupied by the unbelievability of it all to think about a collision. But I suppose, on a rare event, one of these giant leviathans could surface under the boat. At 50 feet long they are almost twice as long as "Silent Partner" and weigh who knows how many times as much. We wove our way into the Maurelle Islands archipelago in the Gulf of Esquibel, past kelp-covered reefs, forested inlets, storm-beaten cliffs, and the ever-present humpback whales. Our anchorage is teeming with deer. Everywhere they are grazing on tall green beachgrasses and don't seem to mind us being here at all.

July 30, 2005 Gut Bay to Gedney Harbor Day 152

2005-09-03T10:51:00.000-05:00

The wildlife that Justin and I witnessed from the decks of "Silent Partner" and Modulus today has forever changed my outlook on the world. I will begin by simply presenting a list of some of the animals we saw today:
--Sitka deer
--100+ humpback whales
--River otters
--Sea otters
--Bald eagles by the hundred
--Salmon by the million
--One dozen grizzly bears
--Kingfishers and hundreds of ther kinds of birds

I got up early in the morning to take in more of our awesome surroundings. Thick swirls and bands of salmon swam tornadoes around Modulus as I rowed through the channel. A few of the thigh-sized fish jumped close enough to splash me, and I was actually surprised that one of them didn't just jump into the boat. When they become airborne they shake their bodies and tails very powerfully. It makes the sound similar to that of a heliocopter, and is heard constantly due to their phenomenal numbers. On shore I watched a tan sitka black-tailed deer feeding at the edge of a clearing. I was surprised to see the deer so close to so many bears! In mid-afternoon we steamed from Gut Bay and out into Chatham Strait. The humpback whales were lunging and breaching completely out of the water in great numbers! For several hours I could see a whale everywhere I looked. Justin cooked a great meal over the wood stove while we were underweigh. Midway through he gashed his finger with a cleaver. We dressed the wound and he insisted that the meal must go on. He maintained the fire, monitored multiple cast-irons, and stirred the soup while trying to control the bleeding as we bounced around in the waves. It was a truly heroic feat! The meal was excellent and Justin promised there was no blood in any of it. I whittled a wooden splint for his finger and signed it as friends will sign a cast. The things we do to amuse ourselves on a sailboat...We enjoyed our meal as we watched the whales lunge-feeding in the strait. Gedney Harbor turned out to be a true adventure. Right away upon entering the bay we saw a grizzly bear on shore. We anchored the boat off of a stream, around which was growing a towering forest as impressive as the one we found in Gut Bay. We could scarcely contain our excitement as we clambered into the Modulus to gain a closer view of the bear. Nearing the beach another grizzly bear materialized from the tall grasses on shore. They were beautiful 600 pound bears with glossy coats and rippling layers of fat. And then the bears just kept on coming. A mother with two cubs emerged from a streambed to the right, then we saw two more on the stream to the left, and several more romping along the far shore. It was a smorgasboard of grizzly bears, and we saw perhaps a dozen on this short outing. Drawn to the skyrocketing and massive trees on shore, we rowed a little ways up a stream. We briefly stepped into the woods. What a fantastic forest! We went no more than 15 feet into the woods when a massive brown bear charged out of the bushes directly in front of our faces. Without thinking I began shouting at the advancing bear. It was followed by a moment of terror as the bear reared back and tore off into the woods in mild agitation. Our legs felt like jello as we clambered back into the dinghy and rowed out into the bay. Going to shore was simply out of the question. As we watched several bears on the beach a large salmon breached right behind us. It gave us quite a scare! We were completely inundated by all the wildlife around us. A beautiful sunset broke through the pink and orange clouds, casting a glow over the families of grizzly bears on shore. Out in the straits leapt the whales, and in the bay leapt the salmon. Bald eagles perched in the tops of all the tallest trees. I have never seen such a remarkable abundance of animals or old-growth lowland timber. It is beyond anything I had ever imagined. "Silent Partner" sits proud and peacefully at anchor, and we feel priviledged to be in such an amazing part of the world.

July 29, 2005 Baranof Hot Springs to Gut Bay Day 151

2005-09-02T09:16:00.000-05:00

Upon waking I met with Shayar, Matt, and family and we took a long soak in the springs. We found a toad floating dead in the hottest pool, thoroughly cooked. Matt tossed it out and it landed with a thud, appalling several of the other bathers. I suddenly realized what time it was and ran back to the boat in order to catch a good tide down the Chatham Strait. At the dock I found Justin, and he had gotten the boat all ready to go. A box of wine sat in the galley, which Vic had given us. We said our hurried and regretful good-byes and left our hot spring paradise. A short while later we came to Red Bluff Bay, a place of indescribable beauty. This whole region is simply one of the more spectacular parts of the globe! Unfortunately, today the anchorage in Red Bluff Bay was infested by LWEPs (large white expensive powerboats). We placed our bets on Gut Bay a few miles to the south, and headed out of Red Bluff. Justin and I split our sides laughing last night when we discovered a new law of nature: the whale makes its whale noises, the elk makes its bugle calls, and the LWEP captains use their bow thrusters to communicate over long distances. "Full starboard bow thrust"! we imagine one of them commanded in Red Bluff Bay, for bow thrusters of all horsepower and magnitude were crowded into the anchorage. As is turns out, we were right in going to Gut Bay. The geography of the bay defies the laws of physics and gravity. You just have to see it to believe it. Our anchorage is a basin roughly 3/4 mile round with a large stream at one end. "Stop the boat"!! shouted Justin as we made our way through the uncharted channel into the basin. Thick schools of salmon swam everywhere around the boat, right at the surface of the water! Justin frantically cast out the fishing lines. Entering the inner chamber we found that the ENTIRE BAY was stuffed completely chuck-a-block with literally millions of leaping salmon. Old-timers say that they can remember a time when the fish ran so thick you could walk from one side of the lake to the other on their backs. I know what they mean now. If you were to freeze time and space, you could literally walk anywhere in the basin by stepping on their backs! At any one time we could see at least 150 salmon leaping high into the air, rising out and falling back into the millions below. Within two minutes I landed a fish. I can't even begin to describe the awesome geography of the bay. Under a towering verticle peak and glacier we rowed through the salmon across the bay. To see all those huge fish swirling around the boat was an experience beyond compare. We were speechless. Quite literally you couldn't see the bottom of the lagoon. We got out on shore and explored a river valley. Absolutely massive stands of old growth spruce, hemlock and cedar trees filled the valley. I've rarely seen such a remarkable forest. Bear scat, tracks, and large game trails criss-crossed and littered the valley bottom in more abundance than I've ever seen. Bald eagles picked at the dead salmon on shore, strewing their guts all around the forest. We climbed our way up the trunk of a fallen tree that lay across the stream. It had a diameter of 15 feet or more, and gave us a good vantage point to assess the stream. The more hardy salmon were swimming powerfully up the rushing waters and jumping over logs and rocks to gain the pools farther up. It was quite a powerful experience just to be amongst such a fantastic and healthy ecosystem! At the same time we were quite aware of the dozens of 600 pound grizzly bears that were roaming the forest all around us. Being number two on the food chain heightened our awareness to the point that we jumped at every noise. We chopped down a tree and crafted spears and clubs. Eventually the bear habitat became so thick that we considered it unsafe to proceed further, even if we had rifles. That hike was a remarkable experience that I will never forget. We cautiously waded back down the river and let the grizzlies feed on the salmon in peace. In the evening and all throughout the night we could hear the constant splashing and slapping of the salmon, whipping the waters of the lagoon into a non-stop frothing feeding frenzy.

July 28, 2005 Layover Day: Baranof Hot Springs Day 150

2005-09-01T09:47:00.000-05:00

Justin and I spent the entire day relaxing in the 107 degree water of the hot springs and meeting new people. In the early afternoon Suzanne led us up to the trailhead to Sadie Lake. We hand-over-handed it straight up the mountain on a muddy slide referred to as the "trail". At one point I unsuspectingly planted my foot and sank knee-deep into the watery brown mud. It was an excellent hike through beautiful alpine country. The air smelled like Washington's Cascade mountain region and it felt good to be sweating and getting dirty. High into the Baranof Island wilderness we came upon magnificent Sadie Lake, where we hopped out onto a small island and paused at the shoreline. For an hour or so we sat on some comfortable rocks and watched the trout swimming in front of us. On our way down the mountain we stopped at Baranof Lake where we met some folks who were visiting Alaska for the week. One of the older fellows was also named Peter. We exchanged a knowing glance, and without any further words we hastily plunged into the icy waters of the lake and took a 10 minute swim. The warm air of mid-day felt so nice after getting out that I didn't even need to soak in the nearby hot springs afterward. I spent a good part of the day mending holes in my clothing. When I was near finished Vic invited us over for dinner again. We had his famous beans and enjoyed another evening of nice conversation with him and Suzanne. I filled a sail bag with alder shavings from Vic's woodworking. They will make excellent kindling! After dinner I stepped aboard our new neighbor's gillnetter. Shayar is a 24-year-old skipper making a go at fishing in Alaska. He is fishing with his friend Matt, and his parents are visiting for awhile on board. I found Shayar down in the engine room, covered in grease with tools in hand. They were all fixing the boat's kerosene stove, laughing, and having a great time of it. It is nice to see another captain my age, especially one so down-to-earth and also having a blast in Alaska.

July 27, 2005 Tenakee to Baranof Hot Springs Day 149

2005-08-31T08:57:00.000-05:00

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.

July 26, 2005 Layover Day: Tenakee Day 148

2005-08-30T21:55:00.000-05:00

It was wonderful waking up in Tenakee again! We rose late and made our way to the bakery in town, where we broke our seafood-hunting diet with fresh bread. Later I used the internet computer at the library. I couldn't get into Yahoo! to check my mail because it was a strange computer. The librarian and another lady from town didn't know anything about computers either. They started jabbing the screen with their fingers and shaking the box. Somehow the three of us got the thing working with a lot of luck! Justin and I walked the town and acquired more top-notch kindling for the woodstove. Alaskan yellow cedar. It makes the boat smell very good inside. We also took on a full load of dry split spruce. There was a huge pile of it at the end of the dock and we got it from the same fellow, Gary, whom we traded beer for wood before. What an excellent feeling to have a full woodpile again! The gravel "road" through town is lined chock-full with berries of all sorts. Today the thimbleberries were out in full force, and we grazed our way through town. People here grow fantastic gardens, and all around were cherry trees, apples, raspberries, strawberries--everything. The air smells sweet with all the flowers and the humpback whales are still out there in the inlet chuffing away. At times like these I have to ask myself why I would ever leave such a place. It is true paradise! In the late afternoon it began to downpour. Justin and I went for a hike to Indian River, outside of town. A winding path led us under huge spruce and cedar trees, their canopies so thick that the ground was bone-dry underneath the bigger ones. We got up to the bridge that crosses the river and suddenly a mother grizzly bear reared her head up out of the salmonberry bushes directly in front of us! It was a moment in time unto itself, like no other, She roared in our faces and lunged off into the brush, snapping a broad path through the vegetation. Her cub scampered wildly at her feet! There was an instant when we weren't sure if she was going to turn back, but then she was gone. Justin and I drew together and opened our jackets out to appear larger. We yelled and stomped the ground and probably caused the bear some minor irritation. Once on the comfort of the suspension foot-bridge we watched the bears from a more secure position, as they made their way up the river. Talk about experiencing nature first-hand! I stayed up very late reading, writing, and soaking in the hot springs.

July 25, 2005 Baby Bear Bay to Tenakee Day 147

2005-08-28T12:11:00.000-05:00

We have just witnessed a major whale event in the Peril Strait. Spectacular! The boat became surrounded on all sides by many, many humpback whales. Right off the bow, stern, port, starboard, underneath the boat, and all over the horizon perhaps 50 whales surged up from the water! We were witness to a huge lunge-feeding! All we could do was scream as the 45-50 foot long whales breached completely out of the water, all around the boat. I have never seen anything like it! In conjunction with the whales, salmon were leaping everywhere too. The whales drew closer. Our surroundings became a chaos of flukes, flippers, enormous splashes as they leapt free of the water. The tremendous sounds of their breathing and spray from their blowholes erupted everywhere in all quadrants of the horizon. Several more squadrons of humpbacks were a few hundred yards off, and we were smack in the midst of a very large pod. The experience is impossible to describe, and no I-Max Theater could ever do it justice. It brought tears to my eyes. Twice the length of our boat, the whales swam directly alongside us. They arched their huge backs and threw their giant flukes up into the air when they sounded. We awoke to drizzle in the morning. Pulling up the crab trap we found one rock crab, two tanner crabs, a giant starfish, and a softball- sized hermit crab. We kept the rock crab and boiled it for breakfast. Fresh Alaskan crab is superior tasting to lobster, in my opinion. Justin and I are still on our diet of eating nothing except what we glean from the sea. It was a long drizzly run up Chatham Strait to Tenakee. On shore we spotted a giant bear running down the beach at a tremendous velocity! The bear thrashed from side to side and ran aimlessly in all directions, sometimes throwing itself into the ocean with a terrific splash. I had always heard bears could run really fast, but this was unbelievable! It appeared half-crazed. The salmon around the boat were doing their acrobatics and swimming into a river mouth where the crazy bear and several other bears were milling about. We arrived at Tenakee in darkness at 2300 hours and promptly walked into town, where we took our soaks in the wonderful hotsprings there. It is always a good feeling to be back in Tenakee--I really like this village.

July 24, 2005 Sitka to Baby Bear Bay Day 146

2005-08-26T17:25:00.000-05:00

We cast off our moorings in Sitka after a rushed morning, running around like chickens with our heads cut off. What an incredible feeling it is to be on the water again. Our world of concerns shrinks to the size of a 27' sailboat as we bound out for the distant horizons. Anything we forgot to buy in town we can make do with the materials at hand. Justin and I purchased a crate of lemons and exotic spices, and that was well enough for our re-supply. There are so many salmon out here it is ridiculous! Literally, very literally, they are jumping in every channel, bay, beach, and lagoon in astonishing numbers. It is not uncommon to see 7 or 8 leaping at the same time, and there is never a second where you can't see at least one. In the late salmon-jumping afternoon we entered Peril Strait. I had made a two-hour mistake in navigation and we found the tide against us. At Sergius Narrows the tide was racing at 8.5 knots against us, which means we went 2.5 knots backwards. I played around in the hydraulic flow for awhile. It looked like a healthy river with standing and breaking waves and all. We were spun around in huge whirlpools and repeatedly sucked into and pushed out of the main flow. After a few curses we retreated to a backeddy and waited out the tide. The fish in here were leaping in formation all about the boat. One of them almost smacked its head into our bow! We fished. Justin and I hadn't eaten a thing all day, and were quite hungry. The first hour of fishing was extremely discouraging. Not a bite and yet they were flocking the bay and we could see them everywhere. Finally Justin got a bite! As he was reeling it in the fish got off and disappeared. Quickly he caught another and we heaved it into the cockpit. The salmon thrashed around and we were worried about it jumping out of the boat! Justin pounced on it and killed it quickly with a knife. Immediately he filleted the fish and threw it into the skillet with garlic and maple syrup, and produced a huge delicious meal. I in the meanwhile was occupied with events of my own. As I was hauling in our downriggers I leaned over the side of the boat. My glance was met face to face with an empty hollow stare of a seal's eyes. A corpse! Seals have very human-like features and it was very disturbing when it became tangled in our fishing gear. Shortly thereafter I made a stupid mistake with my knife and cut my finger slightly. Blood, blood everywhere and the cockpit scuppers ran red with fish blood. I sat down and passed on the salmon dinner, but Justin ate the whole fish. It was a powerful experience for him as he isn't eating anything except for the fish he catches. At sunset I once again attempted the tidal rapids. On the fourth try we made it through, following the back eddies near shore. We made it into our anchorage just before darkness. On our way in we threw out the crab trap, using the salmon head for bait. Herring and salmon are having a feeding frenzy in our bay here. There is a fantastic echo in the anchorage. All evening, loud bird calls and the percussive "slap" of leaping salmon reverberated throughout the mountains.

July 23, 2005 Layover Day: Sitka Day 145

2005-08-25T16:43:00.000-05:00

Tragedy struck today when the computer erased our entire stock of photos for the month of July. This further solidifies my hatred for these machines. I've never put any stock in the digital world and never will. Oh well. There'll be more photos. We spent the rest of the day admiring huge totem poles in a large park outside the city. Salmon ran thick as carpet up the stream and thousands of ravens perched in the treetops. They made the most unusual clicking and croaking noises and swarmed about us as we walked under the tall trees. In the evening Justin and I treated ourselves to dinner. We laughed about the pictures over milkshakes and wine.

July 22, 2005 DeGroff Inlet to Sitka Day 144

2005-08-23T14:25:00.000-05:00

Half a dozen tan deer milled about on the pale green grassy shores this morning. I got up early and watched them for several hours. I caught up on world affairs by reading a month-old comics section of the Minneapolis newspaper and "The Onion" while I sipped a mocha and watched the deer. When Justin awoke we weighed anchor and pulled up the crab trap. I love pulling up that trap and watching the strange animals inside come into view from the murky depths below. Today we had 3 crabs in it but they were all females so we had to throw them back. It was a short hop over to Sitka. Justin and I ran over to the post office to pick up letters and packages. We ate dinner at a Chinese restaurant and then walked all over the city. We went out to the University on Japonski Island and let ourselves into the buildings there. We met several students and teachers and played a game of pool in the rec room. "Silent Partner" is a lone sailboat surrounded by thousands of fishing boats at the dock. Most of the fishermen are very friendly. I feel right at home because they all pee off the dock too. In the big cities down south this practice is considered shameful. There, you must first pee into a big bowl of drinking water and then flush it into a pipe that eventually leads to the ocean. As I happily peed over the side of the boat I looked out over the harbor and began to wonder why I'm heading back down to Puget Sound.

July 21, 2005 Klag Bay to DeGroff Inlet Day 143

2005-08-22T07:24:00.000-05:00

We are experiencing night-time darkness again. There was a rapid transition as we sailed south and east from Prince William Sound. Suddenly (in two days days) we went from our world of eternal light to a full-blown 5 hours of stars, twighlight, and blackness. It is catching me off-guard, limiting our navigational options, and causing us to go to bed and wake up earlier. For the first time in two months I had to turn on our anchor light while we slept! Soon after waking Justin and I became extremely excited to explore the mineshaft again. We gathered together ropes, candles, lifejackets, and all kinds of flashlights and extra batteries. We carried in several long and stout wooden beams to span distances of unknown depth, a long iron bar that we found, and the flare gun. And food in the event we spent the whole day in there. When we reached yesterday's endpoint we roped up and began testing the integrity of the old mine. Eventually we got past the water area and followed the shaft all the way to its terminus in the bowels of the mountain. On our way back Justin dropped the iron bar into the deepest water pit. We heard it clank as it hit the rock ledges below, then sank deeper and deeper until the clanking became too faint to hear. Back in the world above ground we sailed out into the ocean and enjoyed the sunshine. As soon as we neared land it began to rain and then pour. The usual kabillions of salmon swatted and slapped the water all about. We set our crab trap at the entrance of DeGroff inlet. A deer greeted us as we made our way into anchor. DeGroff inlet is a very nice place, it has a good feel to it as some places do. The weather broke for a few hours and we enjoyed a sunset that turned the sky pink and the spruce trees yellow.

July 20, 2005 Mirror Harbor to Klag Bay (Chichagof) Day 142

2005-08-21T08:34:00.000-05:00

It has been a fantastic day. We cautiously exited treacherous and uncharted Mirror Harbor at low water slack tide. We had a beautiful partly cloudy morning and a close encounter with a giant Humpback whale. There was hardly a breath of wind as we steamed through the intricate channels, narrows, and archipelagos of Chichagof's west coast. It is a truly awesome place with jagged horn peaks, abandoned gold mines and Indian villages, and salmon leaping everywhere. Slipping into Klag Bay a thick school of salmon swam under the boat, and a fierce-looking pod of sea-lions hunted them nearby. Sea otters, river otters, and seals are also swimming about the bay, and the salmon are everywhere! You will see one leaping on the water anywhere you look. The chart indicated the abandoned town of Chichagof at the head of the bay, an old gold-mining town that pulled $13 million in gold from the mountains. We could see a few buildings from the water, but nothing else was written about the place. Our expedition into the lost city of Chichagof proved fantastic and beyond our wildest expectations! Picking our way through the dense woods and rocky beaches, we discovered a vast boom-town going to rot and returning to the earth. We found endless houses, construction equipment, huge steel machinery and tramway tracks leading everywhere. Everything in the whole town is just sitting there, decaying into the thick layer of moss on the rainforest floor. We even found an old piano in the ground. There was a huge workshed built of enormous timbers and still of sound structure. Saw blades, radiators, and old wooden crates lay about. The crown jewel of our expedition was the discovery that one of the mine shafts goes extremely deep into the mountain. We screamed into the recesses of the tunnel in order to make ourselves known to bears. A long, hollow echo returned, sounding into infinity. The mineshaft was crooked as a lightening bolt which made for hair-raising progress as we made our way around each blind corner. A ways in we encountered water on the floor of unknown depth and had to halt further exploration of the mineshaft. We turned off our flashlights and experienced absolute blackness and the echoing sounds of dripping water from the stalagtites above. My flashlight battery was going dead so we headed back out into the world above ground. There was a strange moment as we stepped out into the hot afternoon air and blinked into the sun. We plan on returning tomorrow with extra batteries, ropes, lifejackets, radios, and spotlights. I cooked up a couple of heaping plates of spinach, rice, onions, bamboo and garlic with peanut-coconut sauce. We ate it with cashews and limes and just stuffed ourselves. After a successful day of exploration we needed the hardy meal. Justin caught a silver salmon after dinner but it leapt out of his net. He is extremely frustrated because he caught the salmon within 15 minutes, and then didn't get another bite for several hours.

July 19, 2005 LAYOVER DAY: Mirror Harbor Day 141

2005-08-20T15:59:00.000-05:00

Our food supply is so ample that it is bursting from every locker on the boat. Sometimes we dive deep to stir things up from the bottom and we always find good treasures there. It is amazing how much food one can fit into this boat! Searching for a lost ingredient in the vast food pile is akin to diving into the ball pit at Chuck-E-Cheeze. Almost needless to say, we woke up at a lazy hour and polished off the remainder of the soup. Suddenly the huge mega-yacht across the harbor roared to life and began exiting the lagoon. Justin and I jumped into Modulus and I strained at the oars to gain a front-row seat of the mega-yacht navigating the "dogleg". I had difficulty bringing my boat through there, and had to see it to believe it. Loud intercoms blared instructions from the skipper, and bow thrusters, stern thrusters and who knows what other expensive mechanics allowed the boat to pivot just inches from the jagged rocks on either side of the boat. The whole scene was ridiculous and we were glad they are gone. We rowed further and wound our way through a maze of channels and over sandy tombolos. Some of the tombolos were quite shallow and we had to get out and walk. I was barefoot and the first to notice that the bottom was swarming with tiny crabs. Millions of them, every square inch! You can scare them by shaking your foot in the water before you plant it. Soon we beached Modulus and took a run along the ocean on a long white-sand beach. We came to a tide pool where several huge crabs were hunting the smaller millions. I've never seen crabs move so fast! The hunters would grab the small crabs with their pinchers and stuff them into their mouths, eating them instantly! We waded out into the tidepool to gain the best view of this remarkable phenomenon. Crab after crab was snatched up and crushed in the jaws of the larger ones. I watched until I became tired of the sensation of the crabs burrowing between my toes and under my feet. In the woods we found some huge rusty mining equipment and several old dilapidated shacks. It was a most excellent exploration. Justin found the strangest mushroom we've ever seen. It was white and irregular shaped, with irridescent-red liquid oozing from it's pores. It looked like it was bleeding! Later on in the lazy day we hiked back to the hotsprings. I made the very first entry in the new cabin journal there. It was another perfect ending to a fine day.

July 18, 2005 Bohemia Dock to Mirror Harbor Day 140

2005-08-20T14:12:00.000-05:00

Sure enough, the tide went way out. I bolted out of bed at 0400 hours to discover that it was too late and the boat was already lodged into the clay bottom! Still one more hour of ebb. We tied the boat tight to the dock and waited. I watched the shoreline very intently and saw that the tide was still falling rapidly. At last it began to rise again. I climbed back into the boat, still hard aground, and went back to sleep. When we woke we were floating again and left that cursed dock. We headed back out into the ocean and were met with 8 foot swells and high chop. Unfortunately the wind was dying to nothing, but our mainsail kept us stabilized as we motored through the waves. Later we entered Mirror Harbor, where my Dad and I stopped on our way up. It was easier to navigate the tricky "dogleg" into the entrance this time. We were amazed to see a ridiculous huge 70 foot long mega yacht in the tiny bay! After giving it some thought, I re-anchored behind the mega-yacht. If our boat drifted into theirs it would be a $30,000 paint job. Justin and I hiked to the hot springs in the evening where we met with the maintenance crew from Gustavus. They are extremely friendly folks who, like me, do independent contracting for the Forest Service. I enjoyed talking with them and using the freshly-cleaned hotsprings! Justin agrees that nothing we've seen yet can top this fantastic place. Soaking in the springs (107 degrees) we watched the sun set over the ocean, and then made the row back to the boat before it got too dark. Back at anchor Justin created the most fantastic soup. I must start a "Silent Partner" cookbook so that I can re-create all of the wonderful meals my friends have cooked in the galley. This soup contained ginger, carrots, sweet potatoes, and an orange among many other things. It earned its place among the top 5 meals cooked aboard.

July 17, 2005 Pelican to Bohemia Dock Day 139

2005-08-19T11:13:00.000-05:00

Upon our morning arrival in Pelican yesterday, we took to our feet and walked off the swell from the Gulf of Alaska. We explored the whole town (pop. 80 or 100, depending on who you ask) and met many interesting folks. I asked a young man about a path to the city's reservoir, and he replied that the stairs were unsafe and the trail was in unknown conditions. Suddenly an old man in a wheelchair burst open his shutters and said "Oh for Christ sake, just go behind that building and you'll see the ladder. The stairs are rickety, -- just yell real loud when you fall--you'll be fine!" Then the old man eyed the young one with a look of contempt, and returned to his livingroom table. He appeared to have been paralysed from the waist down. The poor guy would have climbed up there with us if he could have. His advice proved well worth taking. Justin and I climbed up the back of a 3-storey building and then straight up an extremely rickety walkway. Paralleling the ramp was an enormous wooden waterpipe, the town's main water line. Huge sprays of water fanned out in gaps of the wood in various parts of the pipe. The pipe and the gangway led up to the top of a mountain valley, and then flattened out into a flume of great length. Eventually it ended at a home-made dam and a beautiful reservoir, high above the town. Justin and I began to feel a huge wave of relief at having crossed the Gulf. SE Alaska stretches its protected arms out in all directions. We are having trouble deciding which way to go first! There is no public shower in Pelican anymore. We walked down to the cannery and asked to use the fisherman's shower. "Ocean sailors are OK." said the woman in the office, and handed us the key. It was a huge honor to get the key and use the free shower! On our last evening in Pelican Justin and I visited Rose's bar, which has somewhat of a famous reputation. Everyone has written their name and boat on the ceiling above the bar. As Justin was writing, people at the bar began to shout "HEY ROSIE, GET OUT HERE!" Out of the corner of my eye I saw Rose herself come bounding out from behind the bar, arms outstretched and ready to yank Justin's pants down. I was drawing my arm back with a pool stick, ready to make my shot when she lunged. This small action was fortunate for Justin. Rosie turned her head to me and said "You blocked my shot, he was lucky!" Each time I turned to the bar there was another beer waiting for me, as some kind folks were buying rounds for the house. In diminishing light and drizzling rain we skipped town that night, to a Forest Service dock a dozen miles away. I am unsettled about the tides and the depth of water off this dock. Two sections of the dock that would be over deeper water are missing. We may have to depart at 0400 hours.

July 15-16 CROSSING GULF OF ALASKA: YAKUTAT TO PELICAN (180nm) Days 137-138

2005-08-18T16:25:00.000-05:00

At 0345 we steamed from Yakutat harbor. The storm of the previous two days had dissipated, yet a groundswell remained. Some of the swell was quite large. In the afternoon all clouds burned off and revealed the mountains. The Fairweather-St. Elias mountain range is second to none in the world. It is the tallest coastal mountain range on planet earth. Today we witnessed the awesome sight of the 19,000 foot tall peaks in all their glory. Mt. Logan shot straight up out of the sea. For the last several thousand feet it becomes nearly vertical, and the summit appeared to be hovering in outer space. Nowhere else can one see mountains rise from the sea level to the heights achieved in this range. Viewed from the heaving swells of the Gulf of Alaska, Justin and I felt extremely privileged just being there on such a day. We had sunshine and mountains the entire way to Pelican, 180 nautical miles away. The remainder of the crossing seemed short compared to our passage to Yakutat. Our weather window wouldn't permit a visit to Lituya Bay this time, but we got a good view of it from the ocean. We have finally sailed to a point far enough south that we got our first taste of "night". At 2200 hours a big red sun slowly sank into the ocean. As the boat heaved in the swell, the sun appeared to bob up and down below the horizon, and I saw it "set" about 30-40 times. A giant first quarter moon also set at midnight, and we observed Mars on the horizon. We saw our first stars of the trip since April! All the friendly constellations appeared, and we saw a shooting star: a good omen. I even saw faint Northern Lights, in columns and pillars of soft white light, shimmering above the massive Fairweather range. We were greeted into SE Alaska in March with our first Northern Lights, and now we were once again led back into them. Coming back into SE Alaska felt like coming home for me. Some places are in my blood, and this is one of them. I was too excited to sleep. I have been planning for this crossing for so long, and now here was "Silent Partner" coming into port after successfully crossing the Gulf of Alaska twice. The silty waters of Glacier Bay spill out into the ocean through Cross Sound. As we entered the Inside Passage the whole sea turned the exact color of Silent Partner's decks, a phenomenon I had observed in Glacier Bay 2 years before. "Silent Partner" became one with the ocean, and I steamed proudly back to Pelican on a huge adrenaline rush.

July 13-14 Waiting out Storm in Yakutat Days 135-136

2005-08-18T16:09:00.000-05:00

Everyone we met in Yakutat asked us why and how we had gotten there, and those with boats offered congratulations and came down to admire the boat and ask of our crossing. Immediately we were met by Les, who invited us up to his house for dinner and offered us bikes, showers, laundry (the village has none). A fisherman held up a huge fish to us and said "Do you like ling-cod?" I reluctantly had to refuse, as we already had more fish given to us than we could eat. Justin returned later from the head of the dock with a huge halibut steak, given to him from the pilot boat. We cannot believe the hospitality offered to us everywhere we go! Everybody we meet has been going out of their way to help us, and expect nothing in return except for our story. Not many boats make the Gulf crossing, and Yakutat rarely sees visiting boats in the harbor. Justin and I spent our two days exploring town, resting and preparing for the second part of the crossing. We hitch-hiked to the gas station to fill our jerry cans. Each way the first car picked us up, we really didn't even need to stick out our thumbs. Justin found Yakutat to be one of the strangest places he's ever been. It is an extremely remote coastal village where a gallon of milk costs $9.25. An unexpected window of weather appeared in the forecast, and we quickly prepared for sea. The good people of Yakutat have once again treated us kindly, and I will have fond memories of this strange mid-gulf stop-over.

July 10-12 CROSSING GULF of ALASKA: Cordova to Yakatat (300nm) Days 132-134

2005-08-18T08:41:00.000-05:00

Departure Cordova 0830 hours July 10, 2005. Our plan was to make a run to the Hinchinbrook Entrance, 55 miles away, and anchor there for the night. I spent the entire day lashing down and stowing for the Gulf crossing . Anything that we didn't need specifically for the crossing went down below in lockers and bilges. I strapped Modulus down, lashed a knife to the mast, and prepared a black pearl necklace for Justin. By the time we reached Hinchinbrook entrance we were entirely ready for open water. The forecast looked OK, and we decided to just go for it. The atmosphere aboard "Silent Partner" was electric, as her bows rose to the swell of the Gulf of Alaska. My head became so filled with calculations and numbers that I could have written a math book. I like to spoil myself when sailing on the open ocean. I changed into a fresh pair of sweatpants and cracked open a box of doughnuts as we headed out. After awhile the Hinchinbrook entrance faded into the clouds, and it was the last land that we would see for several days. Justin and I established a watch rotation of 4 hours on, 4 hours off. In the evening the winds picked up, kicking up a large chop that was sometimes very steep. Justin was doing a great job at the helm, and I caught a bit of sleep now and then. We had failed to find storage for one egg that wouldn't fit into the egg cases. We left it on a precarious shelf and wondered at when it would fall and where it would fall to. I was woken up when the boat slammed into a larger wave, and noticed that the egg was no longer on the shelf. I donned a Mustang suit and clipped into the harness at that point and we prepared for some exciting sailing. We charted a route that held us way south of the Cape of St. Elias and well offshore to avoid the majority of the coastal current, which flows counter-clockwise in the Gulf. We never did find any opposing current, amazingly. Perhaps the dominating westerly wind pattern this year is holding it in check? At any rate, we screamed across the Gulf, surfing down waves at speeds approaching 10 knots for much of it. In all, we averaged 6 knots all the way to Yakatat, a run of 300 miles. It was Silent Partner's biggest day. As Justin and I headed out into the ocean the water became a deeper and deeper shade of blue, and we began to see many albatross. On one morning two enormous columns of water rose from the sea, the spouts of some huge whales. At that moment an albatross flew up to the boat, matching her speed. The bird hovered about the mast and appeared motionless. It cocked its head about and surveyed the decks and crew of "Silent Partner". Later a pod of dolphins charged out of nowhere and kept me company for 20 minutes. Justin and I fell into a pattern of exhausted sleep followed by 4 hours of intense helm work. "Silent Partner" became the center of the universe and everything we did was for her safety and continued running at sea. I made regular inspections of the entire boat, always pleased that everything was operating and holding up just fine. Justin marvelled at the quality of light that fell upon the ocean and discovered for the first time all of the unique thoughts and experiences that one goes through in an ocean passage. Our spirits remained high throughout the crossing and the passage of time became so warped that we entered into a state of timelessness. Justin later remarked that since all concentration is spent on the boat constantly that there is no time to think about minutes, hours or days. The Gulf of Alaska treated us very kindly on our passage to Yakatat. We crossed the bar into Yakatat at 0630 hours on July 12 and drank a tot of rum, after pouring one ration into the Gulf--the Gulf always drinks first. We had a lot to be thankful for, and wished for other mariners to have the same luck that we just did. Finally we were safe in harbor by 0930 hours, July 12. I am so proud of "Silent Partner" for getting us this far! Justin and I were still in a dream-world state as we walked through town on solid land. He observed the feeling that he had no idea why he was here in such a strange place, and that the whole crossing existed seperately from the normal memories in his mind. I too shared his feelings, and they can only be experienced by doing a trip of this sort.

July 5-9, 2005 continued....

2005-08-17T16:27:00.000-05:00

On one sweltering hot day almost every fisherman in the harbor was working on their nets and boats. I caught the enthusiasm and began servicing our engine. Justin headed off into town for a day of letter-writing. Soon I had every tool out and was covered in sweat and oil. And then, the inevitable happened. The rare and necessary engine part fell into the water and sank instantly. In this case it was a metal partition that held the shifter cables to the engine casing, without which the engine was useless. I borrowed magnets from the fishermen but couldn't fish it off the bottom. Perhaps it was made of aluminum. Damn it! I biked all over town, to no avail. We were going to have to wait until next week for the part to be ordered and shipped up from the lower United States. Suddenly I became extremely determined and decided to hell with it, I would make the part myself. I looked at the engine for awhile and tried to figure out what the missing piece looked like (I hadn't seen it until I saw it splash into the water). Then I found a piece of scrap metal. I spent the rest of the afternoon swearing, drilling, sweating and hacksawing the metal into an intricate shape with curves, notches, and holes. Finally I had something I thought would work. With two satisfying "clicks!" the piece fit in perfectly. The engine roared to life and I shouted "I don't need any stupid piece air-mailed to me from Seattle!" To date, that moment was one of the high-points of the voyage. The fishermen clapped, and I fell into an exhausted state of relaxation as I cleaned up the boat. Justin came home after a successful day of letter writing, and I told him of the events that had transpired in my day. Later on that evening we went for a fantastic bikeride out to the hydro dam, 12 miles or so out of town. At the end of the gravel road an old iron beam crossed a raging rapids. I walked across the narrow beam, high above the rapids, giving myself a good scare. On our way back we found many salmon in the stream. They were spawning there. Their bodies were bright red and their heads were deep green. We also found one of the best restaurants in the world-- an old wooden building called " The Barn". It was midnight. They were open and we were really hungry. Justin and I each had a double buffalo burger, and cleaned the restaurant out of the last of their organic buffalo meat. It was a perfect ending to a triumphant day. The following day we made several more grocery shopping trips and took care of the rest of the town errands. In the afternoon we had an adventure at the fuel pier. The pier is built for huge fishing boats, not sailboats. Justin fended off the pilings as large boat wakes and swell heaved the boat around. There was great danger of the mast and rigging colliding with the tall pilings. The dock attendent lowered a huge hose down to me and I began filling our jerry cans. What with the violent motion of the boat and the high volume of fuel that came from the hose, I took a nice gasoline bath in the cockpit. The hose was one that delivers a gallon per second or so. In the end, we got 58 gallons into the tanks, minus a few in the cockpit and one on my head as the hose was hoisted back up the pier. I scrambled up the ladder, paid, and jumped back into the boat and we got away from that dock ASAP. Justin did a heroic job fending the boat off. Bill and his wife from the other 27' O'Day gave us some food for the crossing. Dennis and Pat of the Nellie Juan returned to the harbor and are headed out again, though we are taking different routes across the Gulf. We said our good-byes, and Danny stopped by to check out the boat and gave us a huge sockeye salmon to take with us. We have met so many amazing people in this town, and it feels like home. Everyone is helping us out in our preparations for the Gulf. We got to bed early on our last night in Cordova, in anticipation for the long days at sea that lie ahead.

July 5-9, 2005 Cordova: Preparing for the Gulf Days 128-131

2005-08-16T21:37:00.000-05:00

Justin and I spent 5 eventful days in Cordova, as we prepared ourselves and "Silent Partner" to cross the Gulf. "Silent Partner" became somewhat of a social center and we were met by many wonderful people who came down to admire the boat. On our first morning Dolores stopped by and offered to drive us out to the Copper River Delta. It is a courtesy she extends to all world-wide cruisers. I was pleased to see that another 27' O'Day was in the harbor next to us. In the afternoon we took the long bumpy drive out to the delta in Dolores's truck, along with the couple from the other O'Day. It was an awesome trip. The river delta is immense, a huge sweeping expanse of country. We drove as far as the "Million Dollar Bridge", an old railroad bridge that now goes to nowhere. We all ran across the bridge as icebergs swirled in the swift currents below us. Dolores said "After all, you have to tell people that you ran across the Million Dollar Bridge". Near that point in the river 2 massive glaciers flowed right up to the riverbanks and cracked off icebergs into the river. We returned to the harbor late that evening and hung out with Danny on his Hans Christian. He "squared us away", as he would say, with rum from his wet locker. After several hours the three of us became entirely squared away. By the time Deidre came home Danny told her we were just a couple of dead soldiers. "A couple of drunken soldiers is more like it" she said, and we all laughed. It was a most excellent evening. Justin took the longest pee off the dock that has ever happened. Danny and I even walked out to check on him in case he had fallen into the water, but there he was, still peeing. It must've been a full five minutes and I have no idea how he did it. The following day was spent sleeping in and in a state of recovery. Dolores lent us two mountainbikes and also gave us many cans of salmon, that she had caught herself and canned at the cannery down the street. Justin and I grabbed our fishing poles and rode out to the local fishing hole. Immediately into the ride Justin's bike chain broke. We walked the rest of the way and had a discouraging time fishing. After several attempts we gave it up and began walking the bikes home, at a low point in the evening. We discovered "Hippy Cove" on our way back. 25 or so people are squatting on the land and are living in a collection of treehouses, campers, and shacks in the woods. We took a tour of the treehouses. One had fishing nets tied to trees in the woods all around the house. "Sure, just jump off" our new friend said. It was a fishing net, anyways, and looked strong. I took a leap of faith from the platform and landed in the nets below. I believe only one rope gave out while we were jumping around on them. On our way back to the boat we were stopped in our tracks. There, in the water, were jumping thousands of salmon. It was quite literally one of those places where you "can walk on their backs". After 15 minutes Justin had caught two large salmon. We threw them in my backpack and headed home, triumphantly. Justin was so excited about his fish that he towed me on the broken bike all the way home, about 3 miles. My feet didn't even touch the ground once and we were cheering and laughing as I leapt from the bike and onto the boat with the salmon in my backpack. It was midnight by the time we filleted the fish and 3AM by the time we were relaxing after a gourmet meal of fresh fish and salad. We put the remainder of fish on ice that the cannery gave to us. Prior to catching those salmon, we had had a discouraging time with the re-supply in town. That meal seemed to be a turning point though. The next day we repaired the chain, did the laundry, and did an initial food-shopping trip. We got creative with the labelling system on the boat. We play lots of games like that out here for some reason. Therefore, if you want to find garlic aboard "Silent Partner", you need look no further than the sack labelled "Galactica".

July 4, 2005 Elder Bay to Cordova day 126

2005-08-16T18:33:00.000-05:00

Independence Day. Though we are living in a political and social dark ages, our nation still has incredible potential to do great justice for humankind. As Mark Twain says, "Loyalty to the Country, always. Loyalty to the government, when it deserves it". On this particular 4th of July I feel perhaps freer than I have ever felt before, country-wise. The voyage has expanded out my perceptions of time and space. I feel free to blow around and encounter all the wonderful events that I pass by. We are self-sufficient aboard "Silent Partner", and yet everyone we encounter goes out of their way to help us. On a cloudy morning Justin and I set out to the mighty Columbia Glacier. Justin handed me yet another steaming plate of eggs, and we ate breakfast while drifting amongst a pack of large icebergs. Soon however, the ice pack became impossibly thick. We were only at the moraine bar and still 15 miles from the face of the glacier when we ground to a halt. Strong currents and swirling ice made navigation a joke. This is my third attempt at this glacier, and I was only successful on the first. Over the starboard rail towered a massive iceberg. It was the size of a 4-storey office building, canted on its side, and had a bald eagle perched atop the summit. That sight alone, permanently etched in our minds forever, was enough to satisfy our Columbia Glacier experience as we headed back out into Prince William Sound. Soon the sky lowered and it became very foggy and rainy, almost a whiteout. The huge, odd-shaped icebergs emerging from the mist gave an antarctic quality to the seascape. Off Bligh Reef (where Exxon Valdez was run aground) we spotted several Humpback whales. Justin tossed a few pieces of buffalo sculpin into the water, and immediately a dorsal fin appeared. It sliced through the water, toward the boat. A shark! We could scarely believe our eyes. Just like Hollywood, only a lot cooler. Hundreds of salmon leapt vigorously into the air everywhere. I can't believe all the salmon out here! For the better part of the day we motored through a foggy calm, all the way to Cordova. In the evening the skies cleared and we had a peaceful sunset on the water. Just before reaching Cordova we celebrated the 4th with popcorn and a beer (cooled by glacier ice) and made it into the harbor by midnight. Several fireworks erupted from the shore, a nice surprise.

July 3, 2005 Layover Day: Elder Bay Day 125

2005-08-15T20:20:00.000-05:00

Justin and I excitedly wolfed down an egg breakfast and prepared to explore the abandoned resort. Broad daylight reveals that it has been in disrepair for several years! On our row to shore we investigated one of the larger blue icebergs in the bay. It was grounded out in 30 feet of water and relatively stable, about the size of several semi trucks. Justin listened to his inner-calling and couldn't resist the urge to climb onto the berg. He looked ridiculously small as he climbed about on the iceberg, and I rowed out a ways to capture the full magnitude of it on film. All we could do was laugh hysterically at the situation. The resort consisted of 8 or 9 very nice log buildings, some of them quite large. We went through the whole place, building by building, and found many treasures inside. A large dining area had been all boarded up with plywood, and a bear had ripped a few sections of it out to gain entrance. While the buildings were still nice, they were in a rapid state of decay and neglect. Some of the rooms in the buildings were quite eerie. It is strange what people leave behind in these places out here. Shivers went up my spine as we explored children's bedrooms and opened up doors to the deep-freeze rooms. In the large industrial kitchen we found an electric can opener on the floor. I've been needing a can-opener for the boat, and here one was! I claimed law of the sea and made off with this new treasure. We had great fun investigating the old resort and hiking around on its grounds. Though there wasn't a soul around for a hundred miles, we spoke to each other in whispers and felt surges of adrenaline upon entering each building. We carried my axe in the case of encountering a bear or a strange human. The afternoon turned hot, sunny and still. My new can opener didn't work when I plugged it in. Justin fished from the boat while I worked feverishly all afternoon taking the can opener apart and putting it back together again. Belowdecks became a mess of tools, sprockets, gears, and plastic pieces, and I became covered in grease. It was perhaps a perfect way to spend a lazy afternoon! Alas, just as the can opener whirred to life, Justin caught a fish! The buffalo sculpin had really hooked onto Justin's line, so we couldn't release it alive. With a quick prayer and a blow to the head we dispatched the fish. It was so tough that we had to chop it apart with the axe, and we used the pieces for bait. In the evening we went for a row, trolling with Justin's sculpin. In the distance we sighted a noble-looking mountain and immediately set off to climb it. By the time we finally landed on the beach it was 20:30 hours. We had no water or "hiking" clothing or food and didn't care. Just as axe, a knife, and the desire to summit the mountain. We tied Modulus to a tree and charged into the brush. Immediately we became drenched in sweat and in many places we had to climb hand over hand, grasping tree branches, in order to pull ourselves up the cliffs. It was as awesome hike! Toward the top it opened out and we spotted 3 deer running to the summit! We must've scared them up to there from the lowlands. Finally we gained the summit, which turned out to be the tallest pinnacle on Glacier Island. A spectacular panorama stretched out all around, simply amazing to behold. Below lay a view of almost the entire Prince William Sound, impossible to describe. Atop our mountain we found a seismographic station and many swarming mosquitos. I shook the metal boxes--it may have registered on the richter scale. Far out across the Sound we could see out the Hinchinbrook Entrance, with the wild blue Gulf of Alaska beyond. That is where we will be sailing out into next week. At that moment I began to mentally prepare for "the big crossing" and felt once again a deep respect and awe for these treacherous waters. The mosquitos only permitted us several minutes on the summit. The light was fading slowly anyways. We ran down the mountain and back to Modulus. We never did find any suitable water to drink on our hike, and had become quite dehydrated. We immediately rowed out to the nearest iceberg and chopped off a large chunk of ice. Justin should have become a stonecutter. He placed an axe blow to the iceberg such that it cracked to pieces and flipped over, nearly capsizing Modulus! The ice was very cold on our teeth, but nonetheless we ate a quantity of it to quench our thirst for the long row back to the boat. Once back aboard the mothership we changed into dry clothing and started a blazing fire in the woodstove. We ate a huge meal, stretched our muscles, and went to bed to the sound of crackling and popping logs.

July 2, 2005 Serpentine Cove to Elder Bay Day 124

2005-08-15T19:46:00.000-05:00

Several sea urchins clung to the anchor rode as I pulled it up in the chilly morning. Everywhere in the ragged clouds above lurked the massive and towering glaciers that spill forth from almost every mountain valley here. Justin was snug in his berth, waking up slowly and pleasantly on this peaceful morning. I was totally content at the helm, enjoying the glaciers in the morning light and weaving the boat through a thin field of icebergs and brash ice. As Justin woke he began to clatter around in the the galley for an hour or so. By the time we arrived to the face of the "Surprise Glacier" (an active tidewater glacier) I was handed a steaming plate of a delicious egg breakfast. We dined in the cockpit and enjoyed watching the blue towers of ice collapse directly in front of us. We were lodged in a thick pack of ice, and drifting amongst large rafts of sea otters and seals. Occasionally a curious seal will swim near the boat, its face emerging through the piles of chipped ice that clog this part of the ice pack. When we made a sudden movement their eyes would get really wide and with a snort they kerplunk their heads back under the ice and disappear. With several percussive cracks a giant arch of blue ice crumbled into the deep waters below. The wave it sent forth rocked the boat in such a way as to land Justin's eggs on the floor, sunny side down where they slowly made their way to the bilge. We remained at the glacier until 1400 hours, and then set out into Prince William Sound. We did a long-haul run all the way to Glacier Island, in the top and middle of the Sound. As we motored through narrow Ester Passage salmon leapt into the air all around the boat. We tried trolling, unsuccessfully. After that it began to rain with a brisk east wind on our nose. Dusk began early because of the already dark clouds and rain, and nervousness crept in with it. We were navigating through a channel several miles wide that had many icebergs in it. With a low sky and limited visibility our world became a gray and wet one. The stark contrast of the bright white and blues of the icebergs against the gray sky and black water was absolutely amazing. Finally we entered Elder Bay, on Glacier Island. On our way in we spotted a resort on the beach. Closer inspection revealed that the resort may be abandoned! Our spirits are soaring at the potential for exploration it offers. For the meanwhile, we are snugly anchored inside the bay. Several large icebergs the size of semi trucks are drifting about, but the water is calm. We warmed up by the woodstove and cooked a big skillet of fried rice over its fire. It was a long day today, and I am feeling good about the distance we covered.

July 1, 2005 Bettles Lagoon to Serpentine Cove Day 123

2005-08-15T18:09:00.000-05:00

Low clouds and drizzle surrounded us in the morning, obscuring the edges of the bay in a white haze. Justin and I opted to stay put for the time being and we had a relaxing morning at anchor. We talked of all the sailing that lies ahead of us and cooked up a big breakfast. Toward noon the skies lifted about 30 feet and we rowed to shore. After a futile attempt at bushwacking through wet alders up a river we filled our water jugs at a waterfall, and later poured them into the main tank. We had set out from Whittier with near-empty water tanks because I had temporarily misplaced the deck fill key so we couldn't fill at the docks. This was no matter, though. I have come to grow distrustful of the town water. Once, I filled the tank at a town dock only to discover neon-green water coming out the faucet the next day. My Dad and I were at sea for two days without water! Anyways, no water tastes better than that which you see running straight from the snowfields of a tall mountaintop, cold and clear. We finally set out for the day at 1500 hours (unlimited daylight anyways, so who cares?) to visit several tidewater glaciers and spend the "night" in Serentine Cove. We passed by rafts of sea otters and many salmon, which leapt into the air all around the boat. Today the glaciers were not as actively calving, maybe due to the rain and cooler temperatures as of late. We still managed to see a few really big sections let go, however. It was Justin's first experience with a tidewater glacier and it is good to start small. Toward midnight we settled into Serpentine Cove, built a fire, and baked an excellent batch of biscuits in the cast-iron dutch oven. A low sea mist hung over the water in the bay, and mingled with the smoke from the wood fire.

June 30, 2005 Whittier to Bettles Lagoon Day 122

2005-08-15T08:05:00.000-05:00

It was with great sadness that I said good-bye to Ryan today. We played a few last games of dominoes, and just hung out on the boat for a good part of the day. June has been a very relaxing month and our "pace of life" has slowed down to the point that breakfast at 1500 hrs is not uncommon. We were certainly not bored at all-- many amazing things happened every day. First we had a week of hiking and watching the glaciers calving, then we had our storm-bound week in Thunder Bay, and then a week of intense sailing to Homer, and finally a few days of sunshine in Prince William Sound. Yes, June has been a good month. We had no schedules or places to be. With unlimited daylight 24 hours each day we were able to establish our own natural structure for eating, sleeping, travel, etc. Basically we did whatever we felt like doing, all the time. It has taken some getting used to, to get me to the point where the normal social patterns are completely shattered. We became naturally inclined to stay up until "twilight" at 2AM and get up around noon or so, but this wasn't always the case. And with a boat and some wind out here, we can go virtually anywhere we want. The sense of freedom out here is incredible! Freedom of movement, freedom from schedules and appointments.

June 27, 2005 Long Bay to Surprise Cove Day 119

2005-07-11T20:37:00.000-05:00

We had the slowest morning imaginable today. We played dominoes, drank tea, and chopped up a huge pile of potatoes, onions and garlic. Our domino games have gotten extremely heated as I am a much better player now. Ryan is still really good at computing fast which dominoes I might have though, and still holds the upper hand. By 1430 we ate breakfast, a huge pile of hashbrowns with lots of spice and our last egg cracked into the middle of it. We were so full afterwards that we had to play a few more rounds before we set off for the day. Now we are anchored in a small nook behind a few islets in Surprise Cove. We rowed around for a bit before the bugs came out, and found the best wildflowers of the trip so far. In the marshy shores of the back lagoon we found many patches of purple iris, monkeyflower, daisies, some kind of red inside-out flower that looks like a cross between a lily flower and an orchid, and many brown Kamchatka lillies. The Kamchatka lily smells like used, wet toilet paper. Somehow despite our "food shortage" Ryan managed to make the most excellent dinner by frying linguini spaghetti and adding various sauces and spices to it. It was as good as anything you could buy at the co-op!

June 26, 2005 Masked Bay to Long Bay Day 118

2005-07-11T20:24:00.000-05:00

It was blazing hot all day today! My feet burned standing in the cockpit even. Ryan cooked up some grits for breakfast and then we were off. A minus two tide revealed many uncharted rocks as we left the bay. Many giant anvil thunderheads developed all around the horizon, skyrocketing above even the tallest peaks in the distance. I haven't seen a sky like that for quite awhile. Summer is really here in Alaska! We dropped the hook in Long Bay after our scorching boat ride. We truly are running very low on food now. Ryan and I ate hard-tack and water for lunch, then went for a great hike. A maintained trail (no bushwacking!!) led to Shrode Lake. Shrode Lake is the one I hiked to last month from another inlet. Last I saw it, it was frozen solid with 10 feet of snow on the ground and tons of bear tracks. Today there was no snow, warmish water and bear tracks in the mud. We waded out into a salmon river and stood in the cool water with the hot sun on our backs. It was excellent. The air smelled like Washington's alpine areas, a sort of baking pine-needle smell. Tonight I beat Ryan in dominoes for the fourth day in a row! But we added up all of our games and he's still way ahead in the long run. For awhile I had misplaced my swiss-army type knife that had the only can opener on the boat. Note to self and others: never open a can with tinsnips. There was great excitement when I found the knife and we tore into the can of baked beans we'd been wanting to eat. Ahh, the simple pleasures!

June 25, 2005 Jackpot Bay to Masked Bay Day 117

2005-07-11T19:59:00.000-05:00

We had one of the laziest mornings of the voyage today. There was plenty of warm sunshine when we woke up, some time around 1030. Last night before going to sleep I realized that it is perfectly light out at 0130. By 0300 it looks the same but is getting lighter. Our sleeping patterns have changed dramatically. We usually fall asleep between 2 or 3 in the morning and get up around 10 or later. We experience the "eternal sunset" every night but miss out on the sunrise. Right as the sun dips below the mountains, the bugs come out in swarms. Ryan and I are in constant "attack mode" against the mosquitos in the cabin. We are getting really good at lunging at them, and their squished bodies can be found on the bulkheads in great numbers. In lieu of the "terror alert" level warning system that doesn't exist in our world, I have established a bug alert system. Right now as I write we are at "severe bug, code red", and I will now pause a minute to stuff cheesecloth and rags around the dorade vents. Actually though, they are not that bad, in that they only affect us for a few hours each day. The sea breezes and sailing the boat eliminate them altogether. But when you step on land...that's a different story. I can't imagine being in a kayak right now. Lots of tent time I guess. Anyways, we enjoyed a bug-free morning with the last cup of coffee on the boat. We're running low on all food supplies, but headed into town in a few days. I filled our watertanks at a gushing waterfall on our way out of the bay. The waterfalls out here make a great kitchen faucet. Maintenance-free, good water pressure, and can't beat the taste of fresh snow-melted water. Just minutes old from the top of the mountain. All around Jackpot Bay we saw patches of white underwater that looked just like submerged rocks. At first I was nervous, because there were uncharted rocks all around the bay. I carefully approached one of the "shoals" and we found it to be a mass of jellyfish! The Moon jellyfish were drifting in huge, dense globs all over the bay! Tens of thousads of jellyfish were in each ball, which measured roughly 30 by 50 feet long and who knows how deep. I had encountered this phenomenon in Puget Sound before. They are a bit scary because they look like a shoal, and are so thick that the boat actually slows down and the tiller vibrates as you sail through them. And today, in Jackpot Bay they lay all about in the water in greater numbers than I have ever imagined. We trolled for salmon all the way to our next anchorage, Masked Bay. No luck, and we were so hungry too. I baked up some bannock bread for dinner and we played our customary heated evening game of dominoes. The cheesecloth seems to have worked for now. The mosquitos are playing a symphony under the dodger.

June 24, 2005 Tiger Bight to Jackpot Bay Day 116

2005-07-10T22:23:00.000-05:00

Today we explored Tiger and Chenega tidewater glaciers. Chenega glacier was exceptional. After distinguishing itself from the immense Harding Icefield, the glacier proper consists of 143 square miles of blue ice, flowing rapidly down the mountains to the sea. There was so much calving activity that there was a great, thick field of pack-ice in front of the glacier for several miles. The charts even indicated "floating ice" as a permanent fixture. We were immediately rewarded with a monolithic ice collapsation event that shook the earth and sea. It was a calm and wind-free afternoon, so we pushed our way into the ice pack and cut the engine. In this way we can escape the swirling currents that occur at the glacier faces by lodging the boat in the more stationary ice flow. One particular slab flipped out in such a way as it sent forth a great billowing cloud of ice-dust and giant rolling waves that broke completely over an island that was at the very least 35 feet tall. A similar but smaller event happened nearer the boat. All the ice around us began to churn as the 15 foot waves swept under the boat. Huge icebergs all around us were set into motion, rolling over and exploding with huge cracks, hisses, and bangs. There were perhaps 200 seals that seemed unperturbed by all the activity, and peacefully bobbed up and down on their icebergs in those huge waves. All the new ice disgorged at the glacier face is a vibrant emeral blue. In some places the ice is so blue that it appears almost black. We sat in the ice pack for most of the day, enjoying a spectacular show. Slabs and pillars broke free all day long, constantly, with a deafening roar. The sound of the ice is so large that it is indescribable. Sometimes we could hear the whole glacier groan and boom as it pushes its way to the sea. It generated earthquakes that were readily felt in the boat. Awesome. We spied a NOLS kayaking group on our way to Jackpot Bay. We're anchored up in a place called "7 Fathom Hole" because all the chart shows is a blue uncharted spot with a 7 written in the middle of it. We took a hike on shore and gained a small ridge with a great view of the sunset. The bugs came out just as the sun dipped below the horizon so we ran down the mountain pretending we were dirt bikes, jumping off ledges and ramps into the soft mosses of the tundra.

June 23, 2005 Tiger Bight Layover Day Day 115

2005-07-10T22:07:00.000-05:00

Today we got out and did a little hiking on the land. I wore my new spiked logging boots, which was a mistake because they were very slippery on the rocks. We ascended a river drainage and bushwacked our way up a ridge. It was an excellent hike, and we made plenty of noise in order to scare away the bears in the area. At several points we clawed our way up and across steep ledges and pushed through dense briars. Sometimes the only vegetation to hold onto is the prickly stems of the salmonberry bush. If you grab them lightly at the base and work your hand up, you can break off many of the thorns that would otherwise stick into your palms. The view from the summit of the ridge was awesome. It looked down into Tiger Glacier. We spotted 9 kayakers paddling toward the glacier. They looked like indistinguishable specks of flotsam amongst the huge icebergs. Ryan and I lazed about for quite some time watching the ice, clouds and enjoying the sun and breezes. We have really slowed down out here. It is interesting how we are always thinking we need to be doing things and activities all the time. Today I woke up and realizd that I have no demands pressing on me, no engagements, expectations, or places to be. It is an incredible sense of freedom! We are enjoying our lazy schedule without guilt. Our breakfast routine would put Europeans to shame. The days and dinner still manage to fly by, though. I made a temporary fix to our tiller that will hopefully last until I can build a new one. I sawed off the cracked-off end, drilled out new holes and bound it all with hose clamps for good measure. It is a lot shorter than it used to be, but still better than the spare tiller.

June 22, 2005 Copper Bay to Tiger Bight Day 114

2005-07-10T22:00:00.000-05:00

Several pods of dolphins accompanied us as we sailed for Icy Bay. Mostly an uneventful day. It was a nice boat ride in paradise and we threaded our way through the icebergs to our anchorage. Tiger Bight, in Icy Bay, is a wonderful place. Looks like good hiking and the glaciers are active. Today we got up late, played a lot of dominoes, and just enjoyed all the sunshine.

June 21, 2005 Fox Farm Anchorage to Copper Bay day 113

2005-07-10T21:45:00.000-05:00

After so many days on the storm-beaten outer Kenai coast, it was awesome to wake up in the placid waters of Prince William Sound again. We headed for Chenega where we hoped to obtain a bit of fresh food and make some phone calls. "New Chenega" as it is called, is an extremely small native village. Old Chenega was sadly swept away by the earthquake and giant tsunami of 1964, and lies in ruin a dozen miles away. New Chenega, as it turned out, did not have any store whatsoever, and the telephone was out of order. As soon as we tied up to the dock we cast off again, somewhat discouraged. We made our calls via the satellite phone but are still wishing for fresh food. A short while later we anchored in a small cove in Mummy Bay. Several hours later a weekend yahoo and his sailboat came charging into the bay. He was screaming frantic orders to his wife as he threw out the anchor with forward weigh still on the boat. His hook must've set almost exactly over ours, and when he let out some scope our boats were practically smacking into each other. I'm not out here to find solitude, but this was just a dangerous situation. He wasn't monitoring channel 16 so I couldn't stop him when he anchored. It is extremely poor seamanship to crowd another boat at anchor and restrict her swinging room. We weighed our anchor and headed for another nearby bay, "Silent Partner" showing the puzzled greenhorn her transom. We re-anchored off a small stream in Copper Bay, 8 miles away. I went for an evening row and admired the solistice midnight sun. It is once again the longest day of the year, with no darkness whatsoever.

June 20, 2005 Midnight Cove to Fox Farm Anchorage Day 112

2005-07-10T21:34:00.000-05:00

Today we resolved to seek the protected waters of Prince William Sound. We woke to a rare calm day on the Kenai Peninsula and used it to our advantage to travel a long distance. All day we motored through a calm out in in the Gulf of Alaska. The day was divided into 2 hour shifts at the helm. The coastal current runs in a constant counter-clockwise motion along the capes and beaches. But we found a great gyre-current about 5 miles offshore, and kept our boat speed above 6 knots all day. During my off-watch I read and finished "Around the World in 80 Days" and slept. Around the Chiswell islands I saw thousands of puffins and hundreds of sea lions, but other than that we were pretty far offshore and the watches were mostly uneventful. At "sunset" around 1 AM we were slicing our way through the black glassy waters at the entrance of Prince William Sound. Our anchorage tonight contains sea otters, a big humpback whale, and many salmon that are leaping from the water. There are also a few speedboats, a reminder that we are close to Anchorage again.

June 19, 2005 Midnight Cove to Midnight Cove Day 111

2005-07-10T07:23:00.000-05:00

Today we failed at fishing. We anchored off a steep-to beach 10 miles from Midnight Cove that was exposed to the west wind that was now intensifying. But it was the best anchorage to get us near the lake and rivers we wished to fish in. Ryan and I found a cabin that had a lock on the door, the first I've seen. Generally all the remote cabins I've seen up here are left open in case people desperately need to use them, with a small supply of wood and canned food. It seems to be an unwritten law of the land, and people are good about leaving food and chopping more wood. Fishing poles in hand, we threaded our way through the woods for several miles to the lake. After giving several moments pause to rest by the water we exchanged distressed glances. A massive cloud of mosquitos, flies and biting gnats hovered about us. "Really bad, dude". "This is going to factor into our fishing." We immediately fled the lake and returned to the beach, after making one cast as the bugs flew into our eyes, throats, and bit our hands. We returned to Midnight Cove somewhat discouraged, but it was still an amazing hike anyways, good to stretch the legs and work the lungs.

June 18, 2005 Palisade Lagoon to Midnight Cove Day 110

2005-07-10T07:18:00.000-05:00

The Gulf was nice and calm today, and we made a short hop over to Midnight Cove. The Kenai Coast has been extremely demanding and it feels good to tackle it in small doses, getting a bit closer to Prince William Sound every day. It was a nice day with long meals and conversation, and many games of dominoes. There was a fair bit of Southeast wind but in the evening it died down and the clouds are beginning to clear out.

June 17, 2005 Tonsina Inlet to Palisade Lagoon Day 109

2005-07-10T07:02:00.000-05:00

The wind piped up as we exited Tonsina Inlet. We had a great little sail through a riptide as the Gulf of Alaska gave us the last of her swell and chop for now. Whales and bears are common sights on this coast, and we saw many. It was a relaxing day of exploration. We anchored in Palisade Lagoon amongst tall cliffs and trees. We walked up a river drainage and came across a cabin in the woods. It was a bit scary, because you never know who might be squatting in these places. We found the place empty and in general disrepair. The river had shifted and was eating away at the foundation, so it was possibly abandoned. There was a terrific woodpile, but no wood stove. I also found the book "Around the World in 80 Days" by Jules Verne in a pile of rotting books. I rescued it and plan on reading it. I just ran out of reading material, too! Jules Verne it is. I cut and barked a small spruce tree to use as an iceberg pole. Those aluminum ones at the marine stores are only good for picking hats out of the water, and buckle when any stress is put on them. Clouds began flying in from the South and East as we rowed back down the lagoon. We found another set of cabins--long abandoned-- on the outside of the lagoon. It was an old mining operation from the 70's. We came across several bulldozers rusting in the alders, hardhats, and a really long mine shaft. I cursed myself for not bringing the flashlight! The shaft was in great condition and went way back into the mountain. We used the camera flash and advanced 5 feet at a time. But it soon freaked us out, we expected to maybe get a nice up-close picture of a bear or something! A soft rain misted down as we rowed back to the boat. We enjoyed yet another long, peaceful evening of a drawn-out dinner followed by several games of dominoes.

June 16, 2005 Seldovia to Tonsina Inlet Day 108

2005-07-10T06:36:00.000-05:00

Ryan and I awoke with the dread of rounding the peninsula and Gore Point again. We lashed down Modulus and cleared the decks for sea. I put a very anal double reef in the mainsail, with extra lashings, before we even left the anchorage. Forecast: west wind 30 knots. At least it was blowing in the right direction for us, but I was extremely apprehensive about the tide rips. Out in Cook Inlet we were met by 30 knots of south wind on the nose. But the current was ebbing so strong that we never went below 6 knots. The tide rips were huge, steep, with breakers everywhere. It was ugly. Finally we rounded the base of the Kenai Peninsula and turned westward into Chugach Passage. The freight-train tide was still running with us, plus we had the wind "abaft the beam". We were surfing down the waves at 11 knots all afternoon. Suddenly the tiller snapped in my hands with a deep-throated "crack"! I issued one or two very well-pronounced swear words as we surfed down the next wave. We were making 10.5 knots with the double-reefed mainsail, and had no tiller! Ryan immediately grabbed the spare tiller I keep by the companionway, and the tools to fix it. I ran the boat off the wind, kicked away the broken tiller, and we installed the new one in a minute. Unfortunately the stern was caught by a wave and we headed off the wind, causing an accidental jibe. Nothing came of the jibe, but it was a mark on an otherwise completely successful repair at sea. The new tiller is a bit too short and shaped improperly for the boat, but I'm sure glad we had it. From now on I'll also keep the wrenches by the companionway with the tiller in case of another breakage. For some extremely lucky reason the tide stayed with us all the way around Gore Point. Perhaps all the west wind reversed the currents. At any rate, we sailed to and from Homer through the Chugach Passage going 10 knots both ways. We hit another tide rip off of Gore Point but it was nothing compared to the big water we'd been in recently. Putting Gore Point and the wild water to the west behind me was a huge mental relief. It is a major accomplishment for Silent Partner, and I never doubted her.

June 15, 2005 Homer to Seldovia Day 107

2005-07-10T06:17:00.000-05:00

This morning we discovered that the Homer Spit doesn't have any breakfast place in which to order bacon and eggs. Finally we walked all the way to the very tip of the spit to a hotel, where we found food more substantial than espresso and puffed bread. As we were eating we watched the Ursa Major ride the first of the ebb tide down the bay. Afterwards we headed back to the boat and caught the middle of the ebb out, which was time enough to get us to Seldovia 14 miles away. The Homer harbormaster only charged us for one day, but I still couldn't believe the price. 26 dollars for one night! It was the most expensive marina transient rate I've ever seen! Ryan and I are very happy to be back out on the water. When we are in town we have to worry about all kinds of stuff, try not to forget things, do errands, etc. But when we get out on the boat we only have to deal with the materials at hand and enjoy what we can make do with. The wallets are put away and forgotten about and we can once again pee freely from the boat without worrying about judgemental eyes. Nonetheless, I was sorry to leave Homer behind. It is by far my favorite city in Alaska. In the hot afternoon we explored the village of Seldovia, which was like going back in a time warp to 1985, in some small town in Minnesota. The air had a golden tint to it, kids were picking dandelions, and I think we could hear a lawnmower off in the distance. Everyone seemed to be concerned about nothing and just enjoying the day. We stayed for four hours and then anchored out off the town for the night. I got everything stowed and prepared for an early departure into the Gulf tomorrow.

June 14, 2005 Layover Day: Homer Day 106

2005-07-09T16:43:00.000-05:00

Today was, as town days go, excellent. Homer is a great town. With rapidfire precision and no wasted time, we accomplished every one of our errands by 1700 hours. Jerry and Janet of the S/V "Ursa Major" were kind enough to give us a ride into town for marine supplies, groceries, mail, lunch, etc etc. The anchor rode was repaired by cutting out the bad section and splicing it back together. I don't trust my own splices yet for the important task of the anchor rode, so I had them done by a fisherman in town. I also bought a pair of spiked logging boots at a thrift store for 17$! A very good find--they will serve me well in the future. I had to take them off in the more respectable establishments in town, however. By the afternoon Ryan and I were exhausted and sweltering in the heat of the automobile, and ready to put back to sea. In the evening Ryan and I took showers. They cost five dollars which made me wince. But I was handed a towel and shown to the bathroom. I nearly wept tears of joy when I saw that I had my own room with a real shower, toilet, and sink with a mirror above it! We hadn't bathed since being trapped in Thunder Bay and all that rough sailing. We were covered in salt, smoke from the bar, and sweat, sand, and dirt. I'll bet they were sorry to see the likes of me in that bathroom! Well, actually some of the spit-rats are probably much dirtier than I was. That shower ranked in the top 5 showers I've ever taken. Afterwards we went out to dinner and just relaxed after such a busy and successful day.

June 13, 2005 Port Graham to HOMER!!! Day 105

2005-07-08T17:51:00.000-05:00

Today I lived the dream I've been having for 3 years. Homer at last! We began with breakfast of eggs , sausage, coffee, and cinnamon toast aboard "Creola". At noon we broke the raft up and sailed from the inlet into Cook Inlet. We immediately put up all sail in light winds. For awhile we made 6 knots with the current and sailing wing-on-wing. It was an excellent way to approach Homer. As we neared the city I let Ryan sail, and just sat back exhausted and thought about all the work to get me to this point. It was certainly worth all! Halfway point. The trip for me thus far has gone by pretty quickly. But when I think back upon it, it seems like lifetimes have passed. It feels like 50 trips, too big and varied to think of as one. And such has been the attitude toward navigation aboard "Silent Partner". Each day we make our way north a bit more. And we meet people and fishermen who always give lots of good advice along the way. The waters have been challenging with very demanding navigation. But we have been patient, waited out bad weather, and listened to our instincts. Our "trip odometer" reads almost 3,000 miles since we left Bellingham! Homer's marina is tucked into the very end of a 3-mile long sandspit that juts out into the bay. "Downtown" is on the mainland, but both town and spit are considered Homer. Tonight Ryan and I explored the spit and found it to be a very interesting place. It has an odd combination of fishermen, tourists, hippies, and "spit rats". The dozens of spit rats we encountered are all living in tents on the beach for the summer. A few of them work on the spit, and many don't do much of anything at all except watch the tide go in and out. It is almost as if Homer Spit has captured a motherlode of human flotsam, which lies scattered about the spit in weird patterns and piles. We found a trampoline frame, RVs, a giant medieval mock-castle, a spanish galleon, and many beautiful girls on the spit. All seemingly cast up from the ocean and scattered across the sand. It was excellent to be in the company of women again after being on the boat for so long. We quickly made friends with some of the spit rats on the beach, and went up to the Salty Dawg Saloon. We entered the bar around midnight and saw sort of a sunset around one in the morning. When we left the bar around 3 the sun was brightening the already light sky, and it was fully blue by the time we went to sleep.

June 12, 2005 Thunder Bay to Port Graham Day 104

2005-07-08T17:15:00.000-05:00

Big day today, very big. At last, we steamed from Thunder Bay. Whew! First thing off the bat we lashed Modulus to the deck and prepared for sea. With harnesses on we met with sloppy seas and 25 knots of wind from the East. The forecast was still a bit rough, but with a dying trend. I figured we could have just bailed out if a situation got too rough. By 5AM we were sailing out off the godforsaken capes with the wind behind us, making good time. We sailed past so much inaccessible country. This coast is backed by the Harding Icefield and its cliffs plunge directly into the sea, an ironbound coast. We saw a big bear on a huge lonely beach, and a few whales, and one navigational marker. It was nice to see something man made after our stormbound episode. I also established communication with the Coast Guard on Kodiak Island. We were so lucky as to meet up with two other sailboats who were also going the same way. Rounding Gore Point was one of the roughest parts of the day, and it was good to have the other boats around. Three major tides collide with each other off this cape, creating huge rips with a heavy SE groundswell. It was ugly, but we all made it around safely at slack tide. Hopefully that will be the worst weather and seas we encounter on the voyage. Once around Gore Point we had the wind and current and seas directly behind us. We screamed along at 10 knots, surfing down waves with the mainsail out. The wind steadily dropped but we were shot through Chugach Passage by the currents and the rollers. No part of this section of coast is hospitable to sailboats, and we were very fortunate to have all the elements with us. I began to wonder about how we're going to ever get back! Once west of Gore Point the tides coming in and out of Cook Inlet have a huge effect on the currents, with few places to bail out and violent tide rips along the entire coast. We totally lucked out and made a solid 9 knots for the last few hours. After the rough seas around Gore Point, riding the calm, swift current into Cook Inlet was awesome. We blasted the music, cleaned up the cabin, and made a bee-line for Port Graham at slack tide. The country around the base of the Kenai Peninsula is spectacular. Giant sea arches everywhere, inaccessible sandy beaches and vertical cliffs to 3,000 feet set the mood. In Port Graham we rafted up with the two other sailboats, "Ursa Major" and "Creola", that we had been talking with over the radio all day. We all rode on Ursa Major's anchor, which was nice. Ryan and I are having difficulty with the spare anchor rode and it was nice not to have to anchor again before we get all fixed up in Homer. We found out that the Ursa Major had also been holed up for 7 days in an inlet not far from us. Good to know other people made the same decision as we did! Our fresh food had completely run out by today. But we had a meal of fish tacos and all kinds of vegetables, cheeses, and beers aboard the Ursa Major and Creola. It was a most excellent way to end the day. We're around the ugly water now. Just a small hop to Homer tomorrow!

June 7-11, 2005 Waiting out Storm in Thunder Bay STORMBOUND Days 99-103

2005-07-08T13:24:00.000-05:00

For the past 5 days Ryan and I have been riding out a major wind and rainstorm in Thunder Bay. The williwaws came the first night. Incredible blasts of shrieking wind swept off the mountains. At times the entire surface of the water became a white foam. Modulus flipped over several times and we veered wildly at anchor. I cannot believe how the trusty Forfjord held us fast! That first night, we felt like we were in an amusement park ride swinging to the rode. Many times swirling gusts lifted the foaming waters up into the air, forming water spouts. Everything loose in the cockpit was getting sucked out, and I cleared the decks and prepared an emergency anchor. I tried to inform the Coast Guard of our position, but we're too far out there for radio reception. That first night was hellish. All night long I monitored the GPS for anchor drag, tested the rode, and must've made a trip out on deck every 10 minutes to monitor the situation. We spun around so much that night that we covered a distance of 3 miles in 3 hours at anchor! Directly outside the harbor behind the ridge is the wild Gulf of Alaska, and we feel very exposed to the elements. As the rain picked up, hundreds of waterfalls formed all around the bay. They pour from the mountains in torrents and get blown sideways in the wind. Huge breakers are crashing on the far shore as the greybeards and combers sweep by the mouth of the bay. Somehow amidst all the chaos a few bears roam the shore and we see the occasional whale arch its back in the anchorage. After that first major round of wind things got a little better. We were still flogged by the occasional williwaw, but nothing compared to that first night. It is still raining as it has been doing for the last 5 days. We are filling our time as best we can. On day 2 or 3 I became very lethargic, possibly due to fatigue and the gloomy state of the weather. The highlight of my day yesterday came when Ryan and I were flipping beer caps out of the hatch. They had to pass through a narrow slot and then curve so they wouldn't hit the dodger in order to make it to the water. I did it on the second try. There was a moment of zen-like silence as the cap disappeared from our world. We sawed up several pieces of frivilous teak trim from inside the boat and made a fine set of dominoes. Ryan has taught me how to play, and I really enjoy the game. Yesterday we divided a chocolate bar into ten pieces and gambled all day for it with dominoes, poker, and cribbage. On our 3rd or 4th day in Thunder Bay we made an attempted escape from the bay and its williwaws. We discovered as we weighed the anchor that the williwaws had twisted and stretched the rode so much that it separated all the strands. Each strand was curled like a tightly-coiled spring. At the entrance to the bay we were hit by blasting winds that halted all forward progress, huge groundswell, and more of those crazy waterspouts. Williwaws or not, I became very thankful in that moment for the protection Thunder Bay has given us from the storm. With some difficulty I rigged up our spare anchor rode and we settled back into the anchorage for another few days. Ryan and I went a bit crazy that week in Thunder Bay. I will always remember fondly our countless and spirited games of dominoes, all the hours of staring out the hatch into the rain, placing value on our remaining food and then gambling it away. Each day of that week the weather radio extended the "small craft advisory" another day. It was East winds 30-40 knots, seas 18 feet every day, day after day. Ryan and I cut up a magazine about Homer and created a "mural to Homer" above our new domino table. When lit by candle light it made for quite the shrine. Our battery, food, and wood supply slowly dwindled as we passed this unforseen delay of a week in Thunder Bay. One day the rain stopped for 2 hours. We jumped at an opportunity to leave the cabin of the boat and rowed to shore. We hiked up the banks of a raging river that was flooding with all the recent rain run-off. Its shores were laced with bear tracks. Dead ravens and possibly other birds littered the forest floor everywhere. We don't know what had attacked them, but their feathers and skeletons were all over the place! It was very strange. I also noticed hundreds of dead birds on the other side of the bay too. And then there were bugs. They are finally here. Enough has been written and imagined about the Alaskan mosquito. All legends are probably true. They were there, and they swarmed.

June 6, 2005 Northeastern Basin to Thunder Bay Day 98

2005-07-07T19:45:00.000-05:00

A lone bear was perched atop a rocky outcropping beside the boat when I poked my head out of the hatch this morning. Clouds are gathering in. We toured through more iceberg-choked passages and glacier faces of Northwestern Fjord. Some of the rocks have crazy zigzagging bands of rainbow colors on them, where the seaweeds meet the mosses, lichens, and mineral stains. We brought Silent Partner into "Cataract Cove" that had dozens of waterfalls pouring down from a cirque from a height of 3,000 feet. I maneuvred into "the grotto", a tiny notch in the cliff, and almost touched the bows to the cliffs and waterfalls. Next we motored out to Cloudy Cape in an ominous building swell. The shoreline here rises vertically from the sea for several thousand feet and is extremely forbidding and unforgiving. The feelings it produces are of awe and fear combined with a dream-like quality. We would expect to see rock fortresses, men in chain-mail shooting bows and arrows, and unicorns. Instead there is just a vast loneliness, for the region is too hostile for human habitation. Scarcely a tree grows off of Cloudy Cape, just a low thickness of scrub alder and willow, if they can gain a perch on the high cliffs. In one sense the land seems barren. But then we see all these bears on the shore. Today we spotted a half-dozen Humpback whales and a pod of killer whales feeding off the lonely capes. We anchored in 150 feet of water off of Cloudy Cape with hopes of catching a Halibut. We got a few strikes but didn't pull any up. The current held us broadside to the swell which we soon tired of, so we headed to Thunder Bay. So help me god, I will never return to Thunder Bay. Read on.

June 5, 2005 Taz Basin to Northeastern Bight Day 97

2005-07-07T19:26:00.000-05:00

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.

June 4, 2005 Layover day: Taz Basin Day 96

2005-07-07T19:08:00.000-05:00

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.

June 3, 2005 Abra Cove to Taz Basin Day 95

2005-07-07T18:51:00.000-05:00

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.

June 2, 2005 Seward to Abra Cove Day 94

2005-07-07T17:02:00.000-05:00

After 6 days of gloomy weather in Seward, Ryan and I awoke to bright sunshine. We had to wait until 0800 for the harbormaster's office to open up, and Ryan cooked up some eggs and bacon for breakfast. And then we were off--finally!! It feels so good to be out on the water again after being in town for so long. Very natural. The boat and I are completely in tune with each other. It is also exciting having Ryan here, seeing Alaska for his first time. It brings a renewed perspective to my own eyes and refreshes all the amazing things that I have begun to take for granted. Although, today was an exceptional day. It started off discouragingly, as we lost a fishing lure and flasher while trolling for salmon. I must've tied an improper knot in the line. As if to mock us, the salmon leapt into the air around the boat many times throughout the day. Among the fantastic cliffs, arches, and sea-stacks of Cape Resurrection we came across several large harems of sea lions, hauled out on the ledges. They make the funniest bellowing noises. One of the males resembled about 10 stacked truck tires. He was huge! Ryan and I cracked up when he roared at one of the little sea lion pups. The pup became so scared that it rolled off the ledge and fell into the water. All around the sea lions was thundering surf and the shrieking of thousands upon thousands of kittiwake gulls. The gulls poured off the cliffs and fanned out over the water. In such great swarming numbers, they make beautiful swooping patterns in the air. Further out from the cape we passed through dense rafts of common murres, in staggering numbers. They dove as we passed through. So many were under the boat that it continually set off the depth sounder alarm! There were also many tufted puffins and horned puffins, whose faces look like a painted clown's. We had BLT's and a beer for lunch and soaked in the sunshine as we motored up Aialik Bay. Abra Cove is where we dropped anchor, which is backed by a bunch of cliffs and waterfalls and looks out at a massive tidewater glacier and the Harding Icefield. We went for a row to a National Park Service cabin where we met a group of kayakers. I was disappointed and not surprised that the Parkies don't have woodstoves in their cabins like the Forest Service does. How would a person in desperation warm up when the propane stove is broken or empty? There wasn't even an axe, but there was a giant wheelchair-accessible ramp to the outhouse. Yahoo for the Park Service. Behind the beach we found a small freshwater lake and two black bear feeding on the sedge around it! We hauled Modulus into the lake and admired the bears as we rowed down it. All throughout the woods and on the beach we saw bear scat and tracks. Back out on the salt water we came across land and sea otters, seals, and a cave. It was low tide and the starfish and kelp beds were exposed to the air. Ryan remarked that the hundreds of anenomies dangling from the cave walls looked like the male anatomy, and we named the cave accordingly. Once back in the anchorage we rowed to shore where a group of kayakers had set up a camp for the evening. I gave them some of our halibut, and they gave me two cups of coffee, chicken and pasta, and two brownies in return. They are a very nice group of people out kayaking for the week. The evening sun has tricked us once again, and we stay up late. We cooked up some halibut and mashed potatoes for dinner, the perfect way to end a good day. As I write this, the glacier thunders and booms from across the inlet.

May 26-June 1, 2005 Seward Layover Days 87-93

2005-07-07T14:05:00.000-05:00

"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.

May 25, 2005 Deep Water Bay to Seward Day 86

2005-07-01T07:53:00.000-05:00

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.

May 24, 2005 Nellie Juan Anchorage to Deep Water Bay Day 85

2005-06-30T08:12:00.000-05:00

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.

May 23, 2005 Head of Esther Bay to Nellie Juan Anchorage Day 84

2005-06-28T08:04:00.000-05:00

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.

May 22, 2005 Bettles Lagoon to Head of Esther Bay Day 83

2005-06-25T05:47:00.000-05:00

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.

May 21, 2005 Serpentine Cove to Beetles Lagoon Day 82

2005-06-22T07:47:00.000-05:00

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.

May 20, 2005 Sepentine Cove to Serpentine Cove via Surprise Glacier Day 81

2005-06-21T09:21:00.000-05:00

I am convinced that we witnessed Surprise Glacier on one of its most spectacular days ever. It was constantly sloughing ice and there was a major calving event every 5 minutes. We stayed the whole day here and spent 12 hours at the face. By the middle of the day we had given names to the various features of the glacier. We each adopted our own "section" of glacier and hedged bets as to whose section would collapse first. We took great pride when our sections fell, and ignored or downplayed each other's sections when they fell. It was great fun! There wasn't a cat's paw of wind all day and I was able to enjoy watching the icefalls to its fullest all day without being blown around into the icebergs. Needless to say, we were way too close to the glacier for our own good. Each time there was a loud crack it would set my heart pounding. The entire day was an adrenaline rush packed with unbelievable sights and cataclysmic ice events. Suddenly there was a series of large booms and groans, and Neptune's entire section of ice exploded off the face sending forth an enormous cloud of churning ice through the water at 100 MPH. After the initial petrification I fumbled to start the engine, and pulled the key out of the ignition! We were fine though. Other bergs in front of us dampened the shock swell and absorbed the momentum of the wall. When huge blocks of ice fall from the glacier face, they do belly-flops into the sea and disintegrate into millions of car-sized fragments. All of those fragments plunge upwards to the surface at once and spread out in all directions very radidly, like a drop of oil on the water. The noise generated from this particular event increased until it shook the entire fjord with a sustained, gushing roar. We will never forget it. An eagle landed on top of one of the ice towers. It was unperturbed when the pinnacles of ice collapsed all around it, unflinching. I guess the eagle could just fly away if its perch exploded beneath it, unless it got sucked down by a downdraft. The bald eagle seemed to be really enjoying the show too, and stayed for a few hours. As I drifted off to sleep, vivid silent visions of blue ice blocks disintegrating and plummeting through the air filled my head.

May 19, 2005 Coghill Point Anchorage to Serpentine Cove Day 80

2005-06-20T15:18:00.000-05:00

On our way to Serpentine Cove we visited a place where three tidewater glaciers spill from the mountains and meet in the same basin. It was awesome. Another day of fantastic ice columns thundering down. The experience is indescribable. Serpentine Cove is a beautiful anchorage, with a glacier coming down to its mouth. Clouds gathered in the evening and kept in the day's warmth.

May 18, 2005 Whittier to Coghill Point Anchorage Day 79

2005-06-18T22:20:00.000-05:00

I breathed a sigh of relief as we left Whittier, its tower fading into the distance. We soon encountered a thick wall of fog. For the next 45 miles there was nothing but white all around. The top of the mast became obscured in the haze, and all sense of direction was lost. The compass seemed to have a few tricks of its own that day too. There must have been a local magnetic disturbance. When the fog finally cleared, we were surrounded by dozens of glaciers and towering mountains. College Fjord has many tidewater glaciers. The upper end of it marks Silent Partner's northernmost point of the voyage. We ground to a halt in a thick ice pack at Latitude 61 degrees 13.000' North! It was a very proud moment for all. The ice from the glaciers was too thick to approach any of the faces, so we ran back to Coghill Point Anchorage for the evening. I went for a 6 mile hike to a cabin on a lake. It felt good to work up a sweat and do some hiking again. On the way I saw many bear tracks, huge swans, and several of the largest beaver houses I've ever seen! They were huge, probably 15 feet tall and 30 feet long. It was dusk when I set out on the hike. But because the days are so long, dusk lasts a really long time too. My instincts kept telling me to return to the boat ASAP before it got too dark, and I had to keep referring to a wristwatch to believe what time it was.

May 15, 2005 Three-Finger Cove to Whittier Day 76

2005-06-18T07:47:00.000-05:00

We awoke to pouring rain coming down in sheets. In the early afternoon I was completely surprised to hear a woman's voice outside the boat calling "hello?" She and another were in kayaks, shuddering under several layers of sopping wet gore-tex. They wanted to know how long the rain was going to last, and looked into the boat longingly when I poked my head out, sweating and in a t-shirt. I cannot praise that woodstove enough. By 1700 hours the rain still hadn't let up. We decided to make the run into Whittier as it was only a few hours away. The lady in the harbormaster's office was a ditz and it took me three tries on the radio before she remembered to call back with a slip assignment. We were crammed into a slip so narrow that I didn't even have room to put the fenders out! The harbor desperately needs to be expanded. I took matters into my own hands and moved to a slip with six more inches of width, and used a "Bayliner" power boat as my fender. The city of Whittier is the strangest and ugliest town we've ever seen. It is tucked in amongst some of the most stunning tracts of wilderness, glaciers and mountains. The "city" used to be occupied by 30,000 troops during WWII. They all lived in three huge buildings. Today, about 300 people live in Whittier, all in the same one building! The other two have been abandoned and lie in crumbling ruin. There are no residential houses, just the one building. Inside it are the post office, general store, movie store, city council, restaurants etc. It feels like a huge college dorm from the twilight zone. The rest of the "downtown" is a series of abandoned fire stations and concrete slabs and a grocery store that sells the customary dusty boxes of pasta and cereal from the mid 80's at 2012 prices. Neptune and I explored the big building and talked with its citizens. Apparently there are only three people that live elsewhere. They are trappers living in a schoolbus up the mountain behind the building that throw the occasional barbecue. The whole scene reminded us of a bureau of reclamation project gone wrong. As we walked through the cinderblock, linoleum and asbestos tile, and fluorescent-lit corridors of the tower, we wondered at the people who lived there.

May 14, 2005 Port Audrey to Three Finger Cove Day 75

2005-06-17T15:55:00.000-05:00

Immediately after leaving Port Audrey basin a giant Humpback whale leapt completely free out of the water. The splash it made was terrific. Right off the starboard bow at 50 yards. Rain and low clouds gave way to sunshine in the afternoon. As we neared Whittier we saw more boats than we've seen the entire trip. Saturday night during boating season, I guess. It has finally arrived. About 10 little runabouts zipped around like fleas. Even saw the monsterous white floating skyscraper of a cruise ship, of all things! A thick black cloud of smoke belched from its stacks, obscuring the glaciers beyond. Well, I guess we too are now "just another boat" out there. It is somewhat shocking to be back in weekend-warrior territory. For so long now the other sailors we have met along the way all shared a common thread: you really have to know what you're doing to be out here. Thus a mutual respect for the other was instantly recognized. Despite all the busyness, I had a wonderful afternoon. I rowed around the perimeter of the cove, and went for a hike. The snow was still about 10 feet deep but compact enough to walk on slowly. I got soaked and was dressed way too warm in the blinding afternoon sun. Grizzly tracks criss-crossed over the snow absolutely everywhere. I tried to locate a cabin but it must have still been covered in snow. I did however find a huge frozen lake, about 10 miles long. Later on in the afternoon I did some general boat maintenace. Neptune had the excellent idea of using spruce boughs to clean the insides of our woodstove pipes, which worked very well. We chopped firewood and filled our water tanks at a waterfall. This fresh snowmelt water is the best tasting water of the trip so far.

May 13, 2005 Riding out Storm in Port Audrey Day 74

2005-05-22T18:57:00.000-05:00

Neptune and I awoke to a horrible sight. Some time during the night, Modulus had completely filled to the gunwales with rainwater and flipped over. She was floating hull-up at the end of her line. Worse yet, we had left the oars in her! Immediately we donned our foul weather gear and I began to think of ways to improvise a pair of oars. Amazingly, when we flipped Modulus back over, they were still under the boat!! And even more incredible was the loose spare oarlock, still in the boat. The rain came down in buckets last night and all day today. I set my cup out in the cockpit and periodically went out to have a full glass of rainwater. Several waterfalls in the basin tripled and quadrupled in size, the sound of their roar increasing all day. We sat by the woodstove , read, and cooked popcorn. In the evening the weather broke for 2 hours and I went off for a hike on shore. The land here is amazing. All around it is open, broken forest and tundra with wild-looking tube mosses. You can walk for miles and miles in any direction without bushwacking. There were thousands of small lakes and tarns that reflected the high mountain peaks beyond. Bear trails criss-crossed the tundra everywhere and I came across countless fresh scat piles, good reminders about where my place is in the food chain out here! All of my five senses were greatly heightened by the need to be aware, and I greatly enjoyed the hike. It feels good to move around and work up a sweat after sitting for so long on the boat, too.

May 12, 2005 Snug Harbor to Port Audrey Day 73

2005-05-22T18:39:00.000-05:00

Snug Harbor is not a snug harbor. I am re-naming it "Williwaw Avenue". All through the night violent williwaws screamed into the bay with incredible force. Thank god for our Forfjord! We would surely have been blown onto the beach without it. I locked the tiller down and removed as much as I could from the decks to reduce windage. Still we sheered off in all directions as we were buffeted by the gusts all night. A warm rain slapped the decks in waves and sheets, depending on the velocity of the gusts. I am so glad we changed anchors and repositioned the boat! The Forfjord held us fast all through the night. Sleep was not an option. The wind shrieking and waves breaking against the hull were very effective at keeping me awake and alert. The boat would heel over and swing an arc to port only to be knocked back suddenly to starboard by another williwaw. Despite my worrying, we didn't drag an inch. I love that old heavy Forfjord! The clouds hung low all day as we rounded the southern end of Knight Island. At one point we sailed in close to shore and watched a huge Grizzly bear feeding in the intertidal zone. The forecast is still grim and it's pouring rain, so I decided to anchor in a "hurricane hole". Especially after last night's episode. Port Audrey is a totally cool place, a good one to come back to. It is a small uncharted basin, totally landlocked at low tide, with a mud bottom 30 feet deep that gradually shoals to gentle beaches. Heaven. After so many grand mountain vistas and sweeping panoramas, it is nice to be in a more intimate setting. By evening a drenching downpour began. Silent Partner sits calmly in the basin while the wind tears at the treetops above, a plume of smoke issuing from the chimney. We have to keep the hatches fully open so we don't get too hot. Nothing beats wood heat. Neptune and I went for a short excursion to shore and explored an abandoned cannery from 1910. Several seals swam right up to Modulus and followed us as we rowed around the basin. I snorted at them, which they seemed to like, and they drew in even closer.

May 11, 2005 Gibbon Anchorage to Snug Harbor Day 72

2005-05-22T08:14:00.000-05:00

Thousands of bird calls echoed throughout the anchorage this morning. I watched a heron hunt for fish for awhile. It is so cool how the heron's whole body and behavior is perfectly suited for stalking fish. Without a single miss the heron struck at ten fish in a row, shaking their wriggling bodies in its beak and then swallowing them. It was a great show! Out in Montague Strait we made an attempt at sailing but the winds were extremely light. We passed many rafts of sea otters and were passed by a humpback whale. Arching its back and throwing its flukes high into the air, the whale sounded and that was the last we saw of it. Coming into Snug Harbor on Knight Island I sensed that we would see a bear. It was a strange feeling. Sure enough, as I was scanning the shoreline, there was a black bear on the beach! He ran along the beach for awhile and then ambled off up into the woods. Our anchorage, as usual, has spectacular scenery and is surrounded by craggy peaks. We anchored off a stream but I was unhappy with our swinging room. The weather was showing signs of change. I got "that feeling" about it and we promptly moved the boat out into deeper water. I changed to our storm anchor and put out all the chain, anchoring in 80 feet of water. Sure enough, immediately after we had re-anchored, the first gusts of wind shrieked into the bay. Tonight for the first time we are sharing an anchorage with another boat. It is nice to know we will be riding out the storm with others.

May 10, 2005 Bass Harbor to Gibbon Anchorage Day 71

2005-05-22T08:01:00.000-05:00

On our way southward to Green Island we were swept up in an extensive fog mass. It grew quite thick and blocked the sun. Like a coyote we darted from shoal area to shoal area, staying out of the main channels as much as possible. What a wonderful thing the GPS is! After several hours of steering by the compass the fog began to break apart. Various mountain tops appeared and vanished again at surprising heights. Fog plays strange perceptions on the eye as well as the mind. Finally it completely lifted and revealed fantastic mountains all around, with Green Island right in front of us. Green Island is very green. Behind it, in stark contrast, was the long white spine of Montague Island. A pod of lively dolphins accompanied us into the harbor, throwing up quite a spray about the boat. Rock pinnacles and ridges surround the whole of Green Island, so we navigated with extreme care. The 1964 earthquake caused parts of the island to rise from the sea as much as 40 feet, and the area hasn't been re-charted since. The anchorage is beautiful. Lots of coves, islands and channels to explore, and millions of birds. I went for a row to a forest service cabin and spent the afternoon there reading the cabin journal. Nobody through since August of last year.

May 9, 2005 Cow Pens to Bass Harbor Day 70

2005-05-22T07:42:00.000-05:00

Neptune woke me today. "Pete, bear, quickly!" I jumped onto the deck and we watched the big black bear pick its way along the beach, looking for things to eat in the intertidal zone. Our first bear of the voyage! It's about time, too. Shortly thereafter a solitary humpback whale chuffed and breached its way by the boat. Nothing quite like waking up to bears and whales in the morning! We cooked up a breakfast of sausage and eggs and steamed out of the inlet. Many ice sheets had broken loose and were drifting by. Luckily none of them carried us away in the night as happened in Shoup Bay. All of Prince William Sound was like a giant mirror again today. On the distant horizons lofty mountaintops appeared to hover in mid-air from the mirage effect and the curvature of the earth. We motored to Naked Island in the middle of the Sound. The island is low and green, and even had 2 houses on it. Its soft features reminded me of the San Juan Islands in Washington. All the leaves were coming out here too! First of the season for us. It is nice to see them. After anchoring in Bass Harbor I went for a long row. The weather was so calm I rowed out a mile into the Sound to a small island off-shore, scoured by the swell that usually pounds it. Many oystercatchers and seals on the seaward side of the island, plus a few sea lions. The seals were very curious about me and followed me everywhere. They swam right up under Modulus and looked at me as they swam by. It is very strange making eye contact with something that is underwater. As I rowed back to the anchorage I was aggressively approached by a sea lion. I don't mind seeing them from the mothership, but this one was much bigger than me and Modulus combined. He swam up very close, barking and snorting, and I suddenly became very aware of how little freeboard Modulus has. I stood up and shouted at him but he only became more interested. After much vigorous rowing I was clear of the danger and was once again among sea otters and kittiwake gulls.

May 8, 2005 Long Bay to Cow Pens Day 69

2005-05-22T07:28:00.000-05:00

It was a relatively uneventful sail up Unakwik Inlet to the Meares Glacier at its head. We passed a "State Trooper" boat that was busy messing with some fisherman's prawn trap. The pot was set in 120 fathoms and they were getting quite a workout pulling it up by hand. Several large ice sheets were drifting out of the inlet, which was not a good sign. It meant that an ice sheet was still frozen in around the face of the glacier, and that spring breakup was about to occur. Meares Glacier is advancing and apparently mowing down the forest in its path. But we didn't get to see it, for we were met by an expanse of sheet ice several miles long with the glacier around the corner behind a mountain. It was a great afternoon despite our second glacier failure. It was so hot in the sun we had to "reduce sail" to underwear and t-shirts. We drifted for awhile, ate lunch, and rammed the ice sheet a few times, dislodging parts of it. Tonight we are in "Cow Pens" anchorage. I went for a row among the islands at a perfectly light 2200 hours, which felt like the middle of the afteroon. The days are non-stop now. It is light when we go to bed and light when we wake up. Sunset lasts for hours and hours. We are the furthest north we've ever been in "Silent Partner". Latitude 61 degrees North.

May 7, 2005 Emerald Cove to Long Bay Day 68

2005-05-21T07:54:00.000-05:00

We decided to go back to the Columbia Glacier today to watch more columns crash into the sea. First we ate breakfast at anchor and watched the icebergs drift by across the mouth of the cove like a never-ending parade of white elephants. The ice on the moraine bar had shifted during the night and we had to weave our way through a different notch. The current was very swift. Smaller bergs swept along in the current were smashing into the larger grounded-out monster bergs and exploding. It was a hot morning too, and the ice everywhere was cracking and popping loudly like bacon in a frying pan. In general the whole fjord was choked with way more ice than yesterday. The binoculars revealed that the entire face of the glacier looked nothing like it did yesterday. Further on up the fjord the ice got extremely thick and I kissed the boat's bottom paint goodbye as we ground our way through, glancing off the larger bergs. Several icebergs were so massive that their above-waterline heights reached 2 and 3 times as tall as our mast! They were creating their own currents, calving and ice floes. Some time during the night Columbia Glacier must have experienced a full facial collapse! There was so much ice and water pushing its way out of the fjord that we were experiencing a 2.5 knot seaward current despite a flood tide. A stiff wind swept off the glacier and down the fjord as well, driving the ice out and making navigation hazardous for me. We got to within one mile of the face but we were still in big, thick ice packs. I climbed the mast and could see clear water off the face, if only we toughed it out for another 1/2 mile. I decided to abort the mission, for I worried that all the ice would seal off the moraine bar in a few hours and block our escape from the fjord. Never before have we seen so many large and numerous bergs. It was fantastic, even despite the hellish navigation and failed mission. The Columbia will have to wait for another time. Once back out into the sound we brought the engine up to full speed and wove our way around the big bergs. Many had made it out here and were drifting well out into the middle of Prince William Sound. Several colonies of sea otters were hauled out on the bergs. I'd never seen them out of the water like that before. Tonight we are anchored in Long Bay, a beautiful spot with the usual mountains and islands and coves. I went for a row and saw many river otters swimming and running around on shore. On several occasions I discovered upon looking into the water that I was floating over a swarm of Herring. The Herring balls were dense and composed of thousands of fish, and perhaps 20 feet in diameter. They would seek refuge under the hull of Modulus until I dipped the oars in the water, and then they would dart away silently. Tonight for the first time, it was warm enough that we went to bed without building a fire in the woodstove.

May 6, 2005 Valdez to Emerald Cove via Columbia Glacier Day 67

2005-05-20T06:54:00.000-05:00

An incredible day of ice today. It began when I thought I saw the bridgedeck of a freighter on the horizon. It turned out to be a mammouth iceberg, spawned by the nearby Columbia Glacier. Then there were more, and more, and more. The Columbia Glacier is the second fastest-moving glacier in the world, flowing down the mountain at 68 feet per day. Not only that, but it is also the fastest-retreating glacier in the world. The result is that it drops gargantuan blocks of ice into the sea--bigger than skyscrapers--constantly. We had to pass over the old 1967 terminal moraine to enter the new fjord. Icebergs were grounded out on the bar, clearly marking its location. The icebergs here were so massive that they grounded out in water 190 feet deep, their tops towered above Silent Partner's mast. The glacier itself was eight miles further up the fjord than indicated on the chart, due to the massive amount of ice disgorged in the past few years. Even from this distance we could hear the glacier thudding, creating small earthquakes that shook the boat. It was much louder and more sustained than thunder. It sounded like huge bombs going off. The glacier created its own sea-swell caused by the ice pillars collapsing. The swell was constant. We proudly wove our way through the ice packs for several hours until we were at last 1/4 mile off the face of the mighty Columbia Glacier. This is as close as we dared get, for the columns coming down all around us were shooting ice missiles easily out that far. Almost immediately upon reaching the face a triple-pillar let off with a thundering crack! The piece was as big as the entire face of the Sawyer Glacier. A sustained and deafening roar ensued as the mass of ice lowered itself into the sea. Missiles of ice launched 500 feet into the air leaving trailing streamers as they soared to incredible heights. This is not a glacier to mess with, it means business! The face today was 2 or more miles across and perhaps 400 feet tall. The water at the base of the glacier was 10,000 feet deep. A really big one! An hour later in the same spot as the previous major collapse, another collapse of even greater proportions occurred. What happened next is beyond description but I will try to provide a rough idea here: Relieved of the weight of the massive pillars above, a giant underwater section of the glacier surged up from the depths below. Before our eyes, a mountain of ice literally rose from the sea! It just kept rising and rising and rising and rising, until it rocketed to a height of 400 feet. God only knows how much remained underwater. Once it reached this grotesque height it began to tip over and collapse under its own weight. It simultaneously exploded, collapsed, and erupted in hundreds of directions. I've never before seen so much mass moving at one time. The mountain began to rotate on its axis like a giant horrible wheel, and the whole earth shook. By this point Neptune and I were screaming and shouting because it just seemed like the only appropriate thing to do. Giant pinnacles of ice the size of apartment buildings shoot forth from the rotating mountain and exploded into the sea with terrific clouds of ice and frothing tsunamis. And that's just about all that's needed to be said for today. We're anchored in Emerald Cove, another one of those places that could pass as the "most incredible place in the world" for its beauty and majestic scenery. We are sitting warm by the fire and just enjoyed a great dinner with fresh vegetables from Valdez. We can scarcely believe our eyes and will never forget what we saw today. No words of mine could ever do justice to the awesome spectacle that we had the privilege of witnessing.

May 4, 2005 Shoup Bay to Valdez Day 65

2005-05-19T07:35:00.000-05:00

At 0200 hours I was awakened by the boat shaking unnaturally. Sometimes she shakes like that in high winds, but tonight it was dead calm. Then came the sound of ice grating against the hull and I shot up on deck in my underwear like a lightening bolt. A huge block of ice perhaps 100 feet long and 75 feet wide was pressing against the hull! I scrambled for a flashlight and discovered our plight: the ice had become fouled in our anchor rode which was pulled under the sheet and bar-taut. The sheer momentum of the ice was dragging the boat and anchor off the moraine and into deep water. I hopped into Modulus with my axe and began hacking away at the ice, being careful not to chop through the rode. But much longer the ice would have done the severing anyways. We were about to lose our anchor (good thing I pack two spares!). The block was much thicker than it appeared--about 5 feet deep. How this huge chunk of ice made it through the narrow river, and didn't break up in the rapids, I will never know. It was a hundred times bigger than anything else that came out of the river. We payed out all of our rode very rapidly and finally I managed to free the rode. We had dragged a few hundred feet into deep water, but still seemed to be holding well and the night was calm. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night. Each time a chunk of ice collided with the boat I jumped up on deck, but none were as big as that big one. I finally got to see the night sky again, as those silents sheets of ice drifted past the boat and out to sea, all night long. It sprinkled a bit when we pulled into Valdez. It was a spring rain and smelled like a thunderstorm during a mid-western summer. We are really far North!

May 3, 2005 Landlocked Bay to Shoup Bay Day 64

2005-05-18T07:33:00.000-05:00

Some day I will return to Landlocked Bay and spend more time there. Today our original plan was to go to Valdez. But the weather was so good and we took one look at Shoup Bay and couldn't pass it up. The landscape in Port Valdez is crazy. We are at 61 degrees North now. There are little to no trees anywhere and snowline comes right down to the water. Shoup Bay, like the rest of the area, is walled by massive peaks and has a huge glacier at its head. We anchored off of a moraine field that leads to the lake that the glacier calves into. There is quite a current coming out of the stream through the moraine field. In the afternoon (our afternoon we consider 1700-2100 hours) Modulus and I went on an expedition to the glacier. I worked my way through a series of back channels and kettle ponds, and hauled Modulus over much of the extensive moraine field. The shores still had about 10-15 feet of snow, but a thin forest of huge cottonwood trees was budding through it all. I will never forget the sight of that bright green against the white of all that snow and ice, not to mention the sweet smell the trees gave off. I finally made it to the lake, but no further. I tied Modulus to a willow tree and climbed up a steep rise, filling my boots with slushy snow. At the tops of all the prominent points I found piles of Kittiwake feathers and blood along with heavy eagle tracks surrounding all these places. Below me was the vast Shoup Lake and Glacier, all frozen up. The lake was in the process of spring break-up. Massive ice sheets were breaking apart and flowing out the river, where they were ground up and discharged into the bay where we were anchored. One of the islands in the lake was completely swarming with Kittiwake gulls. Apparently it is the largest Kittiwake rookery in Prince William Sound. Their shrieks were deafening and ceaseless, and they appeared to be in a constant state of agitation. I have never seen so many birds in one place before! The blinding sun, roaring Kittiwakes, and booming glacier combined to make quite the spectacle. I hauled Modulus over to the main river and we shot the rapids amongst the chunks of ice from the lake, where we were washed back into the bay and to "Silent Partner". I had a close encounter with a porcupine later in the day, who was eating away at some willow trees. He didn't care that I was there, I could have reached up from Modulus and touched him.

May 2, 2005 St. Matthews Bay to Landlocked Bay Day 63

2005-05-17T08:14:00.000-05:00

Neptune and I are getting into a new rhythm on the voyage. We go to bed late, get up not-so-early, and proceed slowly to the next fantastic anchorage where we spend the rest of the day exploring. Landlocked Bay is one of our all-time favorite anchorages. It sits in a bowl at the base of incredible mountains. Copper mountain is especially striking. It has everything a mountain should have--dozens of waterfalls plummeting thousands of feet through the air off its summits, sides too steep for snow or vegetation, blasted by ice, and has numerous overhanging cliffs. And at its base it is ringed in a thick cloak of old-growth spruce and speckled with mineshafts from the 1900's. I climbed up one of the tailings piles and explored through the ruins of the mine. One of the shafts went way back into the mountain and branched off in several directions with rails coming out of it. But I was soon turned back due to a noxious odor that was blowing from the tunnel. It made me dizzy and weak and I quickly abandoned the mine. Next I had great fun pulling Modulus up another river lined with purple stones. These "river runs" are my new favorite afternoon activity. With great effort I was able to pull and drag the boat way back up the valley until I reached a point where a log jam blocked any further progress and my pants were soaked. Shooting the rapids and small winding channels through the tundra and muskeg was one of Modulus's finest moments.

May 1, 2005 Beartrap Bay to St. Matthews Bay Day 62

2005-05-16T07:05:00.000-05:00

We resolved to get the boat under weigh early this morning before breakfast. The decision was revoked, however, when I pulled up the crab trap I'd set yesterday. In it were three flounder and one giant purple-and-orange starfish, that had 19 arms. Two of the flounder were big enough to eat! The cockpit became slaughter-house, and soon we had fresh filet of sole in our frying pan. It was delicious! After our unexpected meal we steamed out of the bay and into the sunny calm waters beyond. It is unbelievble how tranquil this entire sound is! All across the waters and up and down the beaches were millions upon millions of birds. We passed by endless strings and rafts of sea otters, and of course a few whales too. Everywhere we look there are animals in great number. Entering into St. Matthews Bay we passed through a swarm of bald eagles and Kittiwakes. When there are so many birds together they don't seem to be afraid of us or the boat, and get alarmingly close. St. Matthews Bay is another gem of an anchorage. Again we ran into more bear hunters. They were extremely polite and told us they'd come back tomorrow so we could have our "peace and quiet". I made a failed attempt at telling them we would not mind the presence of other people for a change. Perhaps it is a weekend and we appeared to be weekend boaters looking to "connect with nature". At any rate, they left after warning me that there were a lot of brown bear up the river. I pulled Modulus up the river at sunset but didn't see any bear. But I found lots of animal bones--salmon skeletons in the tundra everywhere and a huge bear's femur bone.

April 30, 2005 Layover Day: Beartrap Bay Day 61

2005-05-15T08:22:00.000-05:00

Today is Neptune's birthday! It is his third passed aboard "Silent Partner" while we have been voyaging. We took a traditional day of rest-- and Beartrap Bay was a great place to be, a true Alaskan paradise. We passed the hours away reading, fishing, and exploring a lagoon. In the afternoon I procured a chocolate cake which I had smuggled aboard in Cordova. The cake was nearly gone by sundown, which occurred sometime around midnight. The days are so long that we don't know darkness anymore. Even at 0400 hours it is totally light out! I miss the stars. I pulled Modulus up the river that empties into the lagoon quite a ways, until the channel got too small and divided to float in. Then I hopped in and went for a wild ride, shooting over the gravel bars and careening off the river banks. Once back into the calm waters of the lagoon the birds protested loudly of my activity. The bottom of the lagoon is lined with green stones and thousands upon thousands of salmon jaws. At the bases of all the prime bird-perching rocks lay heaps of the submerged jaws.

April 29, 2005 Cordova to Beartrap Bay Day 60

2005-05-14T06:50:00.000-05:00

We awoke to yet another warm clear morning, not a cloud in the sky all day. The emerald-green water of the ocean was like a vast sheet of glass, and on it played hundreds of sea otters, birds of all sorts, and a few whales for good measure. There was not a breath of wind and we motored all the way to Beartrap Bay. It is beautiful here! Countless waterfalls plunging off the high peaks, avalanche chutes come right down to the waterline, interesting islands and lagoons to explore, etc. The geography is so stunning and fascinating that it's fun just to sit in the back of the boat and stare at the scenery. Lots of fish, birds and river and sea otters in the bay. Another boat came by and landed ashore. They were hunting Grizzly bear up the stream, but they left at midnight. I think they may have been put off by the woodsmoke from our stove, which was hanging low and filling the valley with a light blue haze.