Wrangell to Craig via Meyers Chuck, Alaska

So we did in fact leave Wrangell on June 9. Leaving was a bit sad, as we probably won’t be back for a long time, if ever, and we have become rather fond of the place. It has been interesting over the dozen years we have owned this boat, how we have become well acquainted with various towns. We don’t really feel like residents, but certainly much more than guests or tourists. We have had that experience in Charleston and Newport in Oregon, Olympia and Poulsbo in Washington, Ladysmith in British Columbia, and now Wrangell in Alaska.

Village Islands, Zimovia Strait, AK

Wrangell did provide a gorgeous day for our departure – sunny and warm, with the sun glinting off the mountain snow and ice. The commercial salmon trollers were out searching for Kings (also known as Springs or Chinooks, depending upon your locality), and we had a nice wind and a tidal current behind us as we headed south down Zimovia Strait. Couldn’t ask for a nicer start. We saw half a dozen pleasure boats headed north, including two from Canada. We have generally been surprised at the dearth of Canadian boats up here. Perhaps the currency exchange rate is an issue. Or perhaps, having just endured a cold wet winter, they don’t want to risk a cold wet summer as well.

Rover, Santa Anna Inlet, AK

We sailed a bit down Ernest Sound, and anchored in Santa Anna Inlet. Notice the history of this region, we sailed down a Russian strait into an English sound to anchor in a Spanish inlet. It was a pretty enough place, forested, with glacially carved tall cliffs here and there. As is our usual plan, we arrived in the early afternoon, took Schooner ashore, explored the ruins of an abandoned cannery (just pilings and a rusty boiler), sat in the sunny cockpit doing chores, and visited the folks on the other boat anchored there.

The only matter of concern was a clicking noise from our propeller when sailing. When sailing and the transmission in neutral, the moving water makes the propeller turn, and it doesn’t generally make a noise like this. We’ll have to check this out. Last year, before leaving Wrangell, we had a diver go down to check out the prop, and replace the sacrificial zinc. We did not do that this year since last year it was actually in very good shape.

For you non-boaters, this would be a good opportunity to provide a lecture on electrochemistry. If, from your prior schooling, you remember the mnemonic “leo the lion says ger,” you may skip the rest of this paragraph. Otherwise continue reading to be prepared for the quiz. All metals can be arranged in order of how easily they undergo chemical reactions to give up electrons and turn into positive ions. These ions generally are soluble in water. If two different metals are immersed in salt water, the salt water provides a means by which the electrons can be exchanged, and the metal which is the more reactive of the pair will proceed to dissolve away. This is the basic principle behind batteries. This process can be exacerbated if there is another source of electric current nearby, which is a common situation in poorly maintained or poorly designed marinas. Well, boats have various metal parts sticking out of the hull underwater, and they are not all the same metal. This means that the most reactive bit of your boat is going to dissolve away. This is almost always bad, because you lose your propeller, or develop a hole in your hull which sinks your boat. To avoid this, we put pieces of zinc on underwater metal bits. Zinc is more reactive than any metal used to make boat parts, so the zinc dissolves instead of the boat. This is called a sacrificial anode, and the zinc must be periodically replaced. How often depends upon the environment your boat experiences, but once a year is usually a good idea. In Charleston we had to replace it every few months.

The next morning we awoke to light rain showers, which continued on and off all day. It was unfortunately high tide, which meant that although we had anchored in a very reasonable depth of 35 feet, we now had to pull up the 35-pound anchor with 50 feet of vertical chain. Chain is very heavy, and I am very old. Ideally I would have gotten in good shape over the winter, but somehow that didn’t happen. We had a stiff headwind as we left, but once the sound widened out we were able to sail pretty well.

The Back Chuck, Meyers Chuck, AK

The wind eventually died out, and we motored toward Clarence Strait. We had one of our worst sailing experiences on Clarence Strait two years ago, and approached with mistrust. Sure enough, just as we dipped our bow into the Strait the wind started blowing briskly, and a nasty steep sea built up. We were headed into a spot called Meyers Chuck to visit some friends. We had seen them here two years ago, but since then they bought a new house that is approached from the “Back Chuck.” The entrance to the normal “Front Chuck” is slightly intimidating, but does have a couple of buoys marking a relatively unobstructed entrance. The Back Chuck is approached from a completely different direction, through an entrance encumbered with charted and uncharted rocks, and is highly dependent upon what sailors call “local knowledge.” We were unfortunately low on local knowledge, but fortunately we had a cell phone signal, so we called and Dave came out in his skiff to lead us through the nasty seas and around the threatening rocks to their dock. Bucking through tall waves while traveling only 50 feet from a lee shore cliff in water that is 200 feet deep was a very sobering experience, but all went well.

Dave and Jackie Perry's Porch, Meyers Chuck, AK

Dave and Jackie own a small island, with the dock on the Back Chuck, and the house deck facing onto the Front Chuck. They are delighted to be Bichucktual. It is a stunning spot that includes a large shop, a guest cottage, various other outbuildings, and a garden. The village has perhaps twenty homes, a post office and an art gallery, but no other businesses. Mail arrives once a week on a float plane. It is possible to walk to many of the homes along a path that leads through people’s yards and gardens, while others are accessible only by boat. It has a very warm community feeling about it. There is a small building that is half filled with books and DVD’s to borrow or take, and the other half is filled with emergency life-saving medical equipment. Most people are here only for the summer; the full time residents are mostly commercial fishermen. There is a community water supply, but otherwise you’re on your own.

Dave and Jackie's Yard, Meyers Chuck, AK

We spent four nights in Meyers Chuck. The second day it rained. We spent time inside with a fire going. I put on a diving mask and stuck my head in the cold water to look at the propeller. Nothing obviously wrong, and I was grateful for a hot shower. When the rain stopped, we dashed out in the skiff to check a couple of crab pots. Came home with a dozen Dungeness crabs, which made an admirable dinner, with half of them left over.

Day three was sunny and a bit too warm. We took a trip in Dave’s 33-foot fishing boat over to Thorne Bay on Prince of Wales Island. There we asked around and found a teenager who agreed to dive down and look at our propeller on Sunday. We then piled into the Chuck Truck to drive across the island. The truck is a 1980’s vintage pickup that is jointly owned by nine families in Meyers Chuck. They share the expenses to keep it running and parked in Thorne Bay, so they have transportation available when they go over there. Thorne Bay is the closest place with a grocery store.

Totem Park, Klawock, AK

Prince of Wales Island is the only place in Southeast Alaska that has a significant road system. It is less mountainous than many islands, and has a history of extensive timber harvest, so roads penetrate much of the island. It is the third largest island in the US, and has over 3000 inhabitants. It is actually possible to go sightseeing by car (or truck in our case). We drove across to Klawock, managing to avoid hitting the numerous deer that were on the road. Klawock is a native Tlingit village that has a wonderful totem park. The original park was a result of CCC efforts in the 1930’s, but there have been numerous recent additions to the collection. They are all beautifully maintained. The modern poles are very intriguing, and we wished we had some explanatory material to look at. They clearly must have stories behind them, but they also are clearly part of their culture, and not part of a tourism industry.

Totem Park, Klawock, AK

Craig, AK

We then drove on to the surprisingly large town of Craig (over 1000 people), where we did hardware, garden, boat part and ice cream shopping. We’ll be back here on our boat in a week or so. Returning to Thorne Bay we had dinner at the café – the only restaurant in town. It is owned by the school board, and run by students as an educational enterprise. They also grow their own vegetables and operate a bakery. As we paid our bill at the register, she asked us for our zip code. “97520” produced a surprised look from the café manager, who had just moved here from Ashland. In fact she ran an excellent restaurant for many years in Ashland called Pilaf, and she catered our son’s wedding. We stocked up at the grocery and liquor stores, and took the boat back to Meyers Chuck. Sat on the deck drinking wine, savoring the view of the peaceful anchored boats, and the beautiful late night sunset.

Troller, Meyers Chuck, AK

Saturday was another nice sunny day that we spent doing chores. Jean and Jackie spaded the garden, while Tom and Dave moved firewood from the wood shed up to the house. This involved wheeled carts, electric hoists, and violated the OHIO principle in more ways than I can explain (Only Handle It Once). I don’t even want to think about how it got into the wood shed in the first place. I’m pretty sure it all began life as floating driftwood logs. The day then involved resting up and eating leftover crab. We also walked over to visit some neighbors and their new puppy. You can walk to town if the tide is low enough, but you need to get back before it rises. All in all we had a very pleasant visit with these pleasant and generous people.

Float Home and Schooner, Thorne Bay, AK

Sunday morning we sailed over to Thorne Bay to meet the diver. While waiting we chatted with a guy on the dock who was loading a large quantity of lumber and plywood onto a small power boat. He was headed out to a logging show up in Ernest Sound to build a small cabin and outhouse. The whole deal looked rather precarious, but he headed out to Clarence Strait with way too little freeboard. We saw him again that evening, and he said Clarence Strait was a bit dicey, but he made it, built the buildings, and was home for dinner.

The diver was a 17 year old high school student, who had just learned to dive last winter. His science teacher organized a class for a group of her students. This was clearly his first real job, and he arrived with his mother and father to supervise and watch over him. He was very sweet, and we enjoyed chatting with all of them. It took about two hours to sort it all out, but it seems that our propeller zinc was dissolved enough to loosen up, and was causing the sound. In the process it seems to have dinged up some of the threads, so screwing a new zinc back on was problematic. We did the best we could, and it should last us until we can haul the boat out of the water when we get home. We ate lunch in the sunny warm cockpit, and watched a small cruise ship arrive with its 30 passengers. They went off on a walking tour of the town, and we were invited to tag along. Schooner was a hit, as many folks were missing their dogs, and needed a dog fix. The tour was somewhat uninspired, and we didn’t finish it. Thorne Bay has about all the historical and architectural interest that you might expect from a place that began as a logging camp in the 1960’s. Even so, it wasn’t a very good tour. We did stop at a table and talked with a native woman from Klawock, who sang a song for us, and generally convinced us to buy a loon/hummingbird tee shirt of her design. The café was closed on Sunday, so we sat outside and ate leftover crab.

Grocery Store, Coffman Cove, AK

Monday was another beautiful warm and sunny day. Clarence Strait had a light north wind that was not enough to sail against. We also were anxious not to be out there if the wind kicked up in the afternoon, as it often does. So we motored north to another ex-logging camp, current fishing mecca, called Coffman Cove. Entering the cove was complicated by a number of gill netters who had their long nets stretched all across our route. We had to identify the net buoys, and the direction in which the nets extended, and maneuver out of the way of them all.

Floating Veterinarian, Coffman Cove, AK

It was really hot in town, once we got off of the water. We chatted with two women from Olympia who were sailing to Kodiak, and with a veterinarian and his assistant who were running a clinic on the boat next to us. They travel around to all of these tiny communities offering vet care. It seemed like a dubious way to make a living to me, but later in the day, the dock was a madhouse of people and dogs, all trying to make appointments and keep their dogs from fighting each other. There is an inexplicably large population of Irish Water Spaniels here. There was a delightful reunion between two dogs who used to live together, but hadn’t seen each other for several years. We walked around town, such as it is, bought ice cream sandwiches at the store, and went to the very nice library to check e-mail. Libraries seem to play a very large role in these small communities. Everyplace that has more than 100 or so people seems to have a library that serves also as a community center. Coffman cove has 125 people who live here year round, and has a library, a city hall, a K-12 school, a couple of churches, a general store, a café, a liquor store, a gas station (sort of), many fishing guide businesses, a baseball field, a waterfront picnic area, and a marina. In the evening a very strong south wind arose, causing the boat to move and creak and moan. Then we had some thunder. Schooner did not have a good night, and consequently neither did we.

Coffman Cove, AK

Kashevrof Passage, AK

Tuesday was no longer too hot for us. We traded in for a new set of clothes, beginning with wool underwear. It was overcast with occasional showers, and we traded off going below to warm up. We continued north up Kasheverof Passage. This has numerous islands and rocks, and required careful attention to the chart. It was a very scenic route. The major surprise occurred when the tidal current began running strongly against us rather than with us. This shouldn’t have been a surprise if I had done my homework properly, but I didn’t – I made some assumptions and didn’t check to see if they were correct. All it did was slow us down a fair amount, but it was frustrating to make such a basic mistake.

Devil's Club, Red Bay, AK

We still managed to arrive at the entrance to Red Bay, on the north shore of Prince of Wales Island, at high tide slack, which had been our goal. The entrance was narrow and had unmarked rocks in critical spots, so we took it slowly, and it was a bit tense, but all went well. It then began to blow rain into our faces as we were searching for a suitable anchorage – not a good situation. But we managed to get settled in a reasonable spot. This is a huge bay, and we are the only boat in it. The geology of the shoreline was interesting. It was mostly granite, but had a wedge of sedimentary rock about 100 feet wide inserted into it. This looked like shale and possibly chert? The sediments didn’t seem to have been much disturbed by the granite. We tromped around in the woods, and were pleased to see no sign of bears.

Well we have been in Alaska now for nearly three weeks, and we are essentially no farther south than Wrangell, were we started. We are a bit west, but home is to the east. We’d better get going south and east.

The next day we needed to wait for the afternoon high water slack to leave Red Bay, so we hung out there for the morning. The chart of this area was made in 1888, and showed a railroad just around the point where we were anchored. It surely must have been a logging railroad, and Schooner and I went in search of it. Well, let’s just say that 120 plus years of rainforest growth and decay are more than adequate to erase any sign of a railroad. It was just a typical forest, with not the slightest indication that humans had ever been there. Imagine a forest that has had a four inch layer of foam rubber put over the ground and the downed trees, covered with green shag carpet; that’s what it’s like walking in this forest – very springy. Remarkably, though this area was only a few hundred yards from the granite of yesterday, it was all basalt. This Alexander terrane is really churned up.

Raising the anchor generated quite a muddy mess, but we got it cleaned up, and went out into Sumner Strait. It was clear and sunny, but the wind was cold. We were the only boat in sight on the strait pretty much all afternoon. There were a number of intriguing optical effects that produced ghostly rocks and islands. As we approached the fishing community of Point Baker, a float plane passed over and circled for a landing. It came down to 10 or 20 feet above the water, headed right at the forest, and disappeared. It was very dramatic, as the plane had entered the narrow slot that leads to the village.

Port Protection, AK

We rounded the point in the turbulent tidal boils and whirlpools, and headed down into Port Protection. We entered Wooden Wheel Cove, and found the public float completely full, so we rafted to another boat. Rafting means tying up to a boat that is itself tied to the dock, and an important consideration is to tie to a boat of similar size and design. Otherwise there are potential problems with the boats moving around in the swell, grinding against each other. Also, to get to the dock you have to walk across the other boat, and it is nice not to have to climb way up or way down to reach it (especially if you have a dog). So we tied to a sailboat our size. The only disadvantage of this was that the boat turned out to be completely derelict, with the mast loose, the bowsprit broken off, the toe rails rotting away, and the cockpit filled with pieces of rusting disassembled equipment. In fact, nearly half the boats at this float were in a similar state. A man who helped us with our lines said that most of the owners were “in the slammer.”

Port Protection, AK

Boardwalk, Port Protection, AK

This float was not connected to the land, so we did have to use the dinghy to get ashore. In the morning we rowed over to the skiff dock, and walked up into the forest on a long boardwalk that served as the main street of the village. Most of the homes were off on trails leading into the woods, and were difficult to see. We looked at the community center, which had a good size library collection, and a fenced outdoor deck that served as a basketball court. There was also a community garden, and a community beach, with covered tables and horseshoe stakes (not useful at high tide).

Port Protection, AK

Wagon Wheel Cove, Port Protection, AK

We then rowed over to the store, which was not accessible by land. It actually was more than a store, and was rather busy with men and their dogs moving around containers of iced fish. The store was rather basic, but we did find some edible broccoli to add to our diminishing larder. There was also a small store that sold boat parts – I think they would open it if you needed something. There was a liquor store, and a post office. The post office also served as the laundry and the shower. A sign I’d never seen before stated “Please do not use mail bin tops for shower mats.” All of this was in one building off one central hallway, and the hallway was very busy with the fishermen and their dogs moving stuff from one side of the building to the other. The tide was very low, and the wooden ramp down to the dock very steep. Schooner lost his footing, and slid down the entire thing on his butt. He survived.

Wagon Wheel Cove, Port Protection, AK

As we left Port Protection we passed a dozen sea otters – the first we have seen this year. They appeared very accustomed to boats passing by, and paid us no notice at all. Port Protection was named by Vancouver in 1794, and it occurred to me that he probably didn’t see any sea otters, since they were exterminated by the Russians for their fur. It’s nice that they have made a good recovery up here, although the locals are less enthused. One of their favorite foods is Dungeness crab.

It was a cold, wet day out in Sumner Strait, and just as we raised our sails we entered an area of simply horrible tide rips. These are areas where tidal currents meet, or where there are large changes in water depth with a lot of water moving through. The end result is a very confused sea of short steep waves with no real pattern to them. They pretty much kill all of the boat’s momentum, and toss it about in a very distressing manner. Farther south, in more civilized places, these areas are noted on the charts. Up here it is all “local knowledge,” and you find out the hard way. We eventually extricated ourselves and headed south in a more regular, but still unpleasant sea, with a steady light drizzle. Oh, and the tidal current and the wind were both running against us, so we were making slow progress south.

We definitely were not having fun, so we decided to bail out and go to the nearest sheltered anchorage. This is a place called Hole in the Wall. It is well named; we cruised along the shore and there is nothing but a solid wall of cliffs topped by forest with offshore rocks. Suddenly there appears a narrow slit, probably not more than 100 feet wide going into the cliffs. We carefully slip into this slot, and go back about a mile, where it opens up into a sheltered basin with useful depths for anchoring. I think on a clear day it would be quite striking, as we get occasional views of tall alpine mountains. But mostly today we have a view of low clouds.  

Hole-in-the-Wall, Prince of Wales Island, AK

So we settled into Hole in the Wall shortly after 1 PM, ate some lunch, hung out on the boat, played Scrabble, baked some brownies, walked the dog, ate dinner, and generally enjoyed not being out on Sumner Strait. One disadvantage of this place is that you can’t get out of it at low tide, so we need to get up at 4:00 tomorrow. It will be light by 3:00, so it will be ok. By the way, it will get dark tonight around 11:00. We don’t see many sunrises or sunsets.

We managed the early departure ok, though there were no-see-ums out – the first annoying insect experience thus far. We awoke at 4:00, and were underway at 5:10. That’s about as fast as we can move, since it includes rowing Schooner ashore and taking a short walk to get him drained for the day. As we left we encountered a mother sea otter and her pup in the narrow slot, and unfortunately the current was pushing us out, and there was no room to maneuver, so we ended up herding them ahead of us. The pup eventually tired, and the mother grabbed it and towed it along. It all ended ok, but it wasn’t a great start to the day for the otters, and we felt badly.

We exited to find Sumner Strait glassy smooth with no wind, and a low gentle swell coming off of the ocean. What a wonderful contrast to yesterday! There was a regular procession of sea otters all day – either singles or mothers and pups. It was overcast, but there was blue sky off to the west, and as the morning progressed, the blue sky expanded toward us until it was sunny. Unfortunately we were now headed east and back into the clouds. So we stopped the engine and drifted (backwards) for an hour, waiting for the sun to burn off the clouds. Well, guess what? It didn’t, so we motored east back into the cloudy day. It was really surprisingly cold.

We were following a relatively new large scale chart of Shakan Strait, wondering why they had gone to the trouble to make this chart in this very isolated area, and why they had installed these buoys, when we suddenly came upon a huge, modern industrial complex that was mining marble. Not blocks for sculptures or kitchen counters, but huge piles of ground up marble. It may be isolated, but it’s not a wilderness.

 El Capitan Passage, AK

At this point we entered El Capitan Passage. The first part of this passage is extremely narrow and shallow. It has been dredged to create a route that can be used by small boats at all tide levels. We arrived at low slack, and it was a minus tide. It really didn’t look possible that we could make it through this collection of islands and rocks, but we assumed the chart was correct, and soldiered on. After winding around some islands we entered what appeared to be a drainage ditch, just wide enough and deep enough to allow our boat through. The dredge spoils, piled along the sides, consisted of large chunks of rock, rather than the more common piles of sand and mud. There were many day markers to show the way, but at this tide level we simply tried to stay in the places that had water in them.

Although we had entered the western end at slack tide, by the time we got to the eastern end it was running maximum ebb against us, creating a lot of swirls that tossed the boat around, and slowing us down considerably. It really was not very scenic – it felt like boating in a very low reservoir, except that it had many sea otters in it. As we exited into the wider and deeper portion of the passage, we saw some animals far away splashing around. As we drew closer it became apparent that it was a group of sea otters. We got out the binoculars and tried to count them. This was not easy, but our best estimate was 100 adult otters plus who knows how many pups! Not bad for a species that was nearly exterminated by the Russian fur hunters. Actually, that’s not really correct. There were no Russian fur hunters. There were Russians who enslaved the native Aleuts, and forced them to hunt furs for them.

 Landslide, Devilfish Bay, AK

We continued south into a cold headwind, and finally went a couple of miles into Devilfish Bay to anchor for the night. We had to maneuver around a huge rock that nearly blocked the passage halfway in. There is a native story about this place that involves a large devilfish (octopus) destroying a village. Three boys who were out hunting return home, and two of them die killing the devilfish while the third serves as a witness to their sacrifice. It’s more complex than that, but this is not a good place to tell all the details I’m sure. This is a very lonely country. Since leaving Port Protection we have seen one cruise ship heading north up Sumner Strait, and one commercial fishing boat coming out of Shakan Bay. That’s it. We saw three cabins on the shore, and one seemingly abandoned fishing lodge.

Our departure Saturday was again dictated by a tidal gate. We had to reach Skookumchuck Pass at 10:30 slack, so that meant leaving Devilfish Bay at 7:15. Once again it was cloudy and cold, and we had a south wind blowing in our face as we proceeded down El Capitan Passage. There were a fair number of isolated sea otters along the route today – no more huge conventions like yesterday. Again we were all alone most of the day – no other boats.

The south end of El Capitan Passage emptied us into a maze of hundreds of islands and rocky reefs. It was very pretty, but would have been completely impossible without a good chart; and we spent a good part of the day closely examining the chart. After a while we encountered a navigation aid. It was reassuring to see, not so much because it helped us find our way, but because it suggested that there were other people out there, and we were not completely alone.

We were tiring of the cold wind in our faces in these narrow channels, and were looking forward to entering Sea Otter Sound because we figured we could do some sailing out in that large body of water. Well, in the event Sea Otter Sound proved to be a dead calm, with just a gentle ocean swell to provide some variety. Variety was also provided by half a dozen humpback whales – the first we have seen this year.

We entered Karheen Passage, and the route continued to get more intricate, but the number of buoys and lights increased proportionally, and it was straightforward as long as we paid careful attention. We also began to see small sport fishing boats, most probably from a local fishing lodge.

The next problem was another tidal gate, Tonowek Narrows. We were approaching at full flood tide, running against us. The logical thing to do was find a place to wait, so we went to a place called Winter Harbor. It is a small, intimate sort of anchorage that has a bit of a split personality. The view to the south is a delightful wilderness of small tree-covered islets with winding channels between them. The view to the north is a recently abandoned log dump. This is a spot where they unloaded log trucks, and dumped the logs into the water where they were made into rafts for towing to a mill. It’s hardly a wilderness. Next to the dump is a launching ramp for small boats. Well this launching ramp is 20 or 30 miles from the nearest town over a gravel road, so it’s not too busy. This is Saturday and we saw one boat use it.

Winter Harbor, AK

Once we got settled in, we decided to stay, and go through the Narrows on the slack tomorrow morning. I know it may sound strange, but this is a great place. You row the dinghy a short distance to the launching ramp, and onto a steeply shelving beach of sorted white ¾-minus rock. You can go ashore without getting your feet wet, and the boat is easy to launch even after the tide has gone up or down in your absence. Then you simply start walking on a gravel road. You don’t need a hiking stick to keep your balance on the rocks and rotten logs. There is no devil’s club (Oplopanax horridus; look it up). The road goes for endless miles, and you can walk as far as you want. True, it goes through a lot of old clearcuts, and isn’t all that scenic, but it’s easy. There are lots of deer along the road to watch, and there are mysteries on the road itself. For example, what animal made this pile of poop that contains mostly hair plus a small fawn-sized deer hoof? Our guess is a wolf. The road construction involved blasting out rock to create cliffs with great geological exposures. This sure beats wilderness. I think we probably need to get ourselves back to civilization to regain some proper perspective.

Gulf of Esquibel, AK

Sunday began cloudy and cool, as we wended our way around islands and reefs to transit Tonowek Narrows at low slack. There was an unpleasant wind on our nose, but the usual cast of characters to keep us amused. This includes sea otters, humpback whales, harbor seals, sea lions, marbled murrelets, cormorants, bald eagles, ravens, loons, pigeon guillemots, etc. When we exited the Narrows into the Gulf of Esquibel there was enough wind to sail – the first in quite some time. It is such a relief to turn off the engine, and have just the sound of the water against the hull. It was pretty relaxing sailing. Schooner serves as our eek-o-meter while sailing – his degree of distress is related to how much the boat is heeling, and the height of the waves. As we were sailing along, I noticed an unusual noise, and after some concern Jean pointed out that it was Schooner snoring. Not too scary a day.

The day brightened and warmed up, and we began to shed layer after layer of clothing. We were approaching a large area of kelp, and it seemed to be filled with debris. The binoculars revealed that the “debris” was sea otters. They were all female, and every one had a pup. They were at least 75 of them. Truly remarkable. Another notable sighting was a cruising powerboat. This is the first non-fishing pleasure boat we have seen since we left Port Protection. We did see only the one, however. In San Christoval Channel we were passed by the Alaska State Trooper boat “Enforcer.” They didn’t pay any attention to us – guess we didn’t look very guilty.

Craig, AK

As we exited the channel, the wind came up, and we had a wonderful downwind sail across San Alberto Bay. Along the way we passed another patch of kelp containing another 75 sea otters hanging out. We sailed all the way into Craig harbor, though we did make a tack and kill some time when we met a tug and barge coming out of the narrow channel. We tied up to the fuel dock in the strong wind with only a minor flail, and then proceeded to tie up in the marina. It is sunny and hot. The marina is busy with weekend sport fishermen returning home and cleaning their catch. The harbor is chock full of bald eagles hoping to score some fish cleaning leftovers.

This area west of Prince of Wales Island is somewhat overwhelming. The number of islands and possible anchorages is enormous. In comparison the San Juan Islands in Washington are almost trivial in extent. One almost doesn’t know where to begin – we could spend a lifetime exploring the west coast of Prince of Wales Island, but we won’t. We appear to be the only people who are not here to go fishing. Clearly if we lived up here, we’d have to become fishermen.

We’ll be in Craig for a day or two while we do the usual grocery shopping, laundry, etc. Then we’ll continue south toward Prince Rupert. Will check in again when we get there. Timing is very uncertain, as we need good weather to cross Dixon Entrance, and the forecast is a bit dicey. We may be holed up for a while waiting for it to improve.