S.V. CAMBRIA: Alaska

Alaska by the Numbers

Friday, May 06, 2016TheCambrians

What does it take to cruise from the Seattle area to Southeast Alaska in your own boat? Miles. A lot of miles. Most of which will be done under motor. And to go along with those miles, you’re going to need a lot of time and patience.

You probably won’t need as much time as us. We’re pretty slow when it comes to cruising and we like to take our time, enjoying stops along the way. We dropped our lines on the first of April and didn’t tie up again until the end of October. That’s the total number of days you’ll find listed below, but the actual amount of time we spent in Alaska was three months with about two weeks of travel on each side (i.e. four months altogether). I should add that some of the days we spent waiting for the weather to clear, it would've been safe for us to be on the move. However, one of the reasons we went was to view the scenery, a lot of which was hidden by rain and low clouds.

Our daily distance number below doesn’t represent the whole story. Towards the end of the season, we spent several weeks in and around the Gulf Islands (British Columbia) where the distance between anchorages was often less than ten miles. A more accurate number for passages on our way north and while we were cruising Alaska was approximately 50 miles or more (which means we were underway 7+ hours most travel days).

Cambria motoring up Tarr Inlet in Glacier Bay National Park.

The Inside Passage runs in a northwesterly direction and the wind generally comes from that quadrant during the summer months. It is, however, light. That coupled with narrow inlets and channels means the opportunities to sail are few and far between. Over the course of seven months, we never raised our mainsail and threw out the jib for a downwind push only a handful of times: Motoring, unfortunately, is the norm.

*this number includes time for anchor up/down, oil changes, and maintenance.

Brrrrrr!!! It's cold in Alaska . . . even in July!

It’s difficult to imagine cruising in the Pacific Northwest without a heater aboard, especially in the higher latitudes. Ours is a hydronic system that’s fueled by diesel and consumes about a third of a gallon for every hour of use. The boiler is located behind our berth and wakes me up when it cycles during the night, so we only run it during daytime hours.

Our energy needs were primarily filled from three sources: alternator output, the solar panels, and a portable generator. The fourth source, shore power, came from the few nights we spent tied up in marinas.

For a closer look at David's handy-dandy graph, click on the jpeg.

As you can see from the numbers, spending a season in Alaska can be costly in terms of time, miles, and fossil fuels consumed. If we could sail there and back, I think we’d both be happy to make the trip again – we saw and did some amazing things, after all. But the chances of that happening are pretty slim, so we'll just have to content ourselves on sights a little closer to "home" this season, starting with British Columbia's Gulf Islands and see where the wind carries us after that.

Alphabet Photography Project | X is for Xanadu

Thursday, March 03, 2016TheCambrians

Alaska Inside Passage Notes From the Dockside

Sailing to Southeast Alaska | Ten Things to Know Before You Go

Tuesday, January 26, 2016TheCambrians

Now that our cruising season in Southeast Alaska is behind us, I thought it would be a good opportunity to reflect on the time we spent in her waters. To do that, I’ve written a total of three blogs: The first one lays out several factors that impacted our experience and impression of the area – the weather, commercialism and sailing to a schedule. The second lists some of the things we enjoyed about cruising in Alaska. And the third (this one), covers the things we didn’t like about cruising in Alaska.

The Weather

Weather-wise, we picked a really bad year to sail to Southeast Alaska and that took a toll on our psyches and made a negative impact on our overall experience. To give you a little insight on how we felt during the worst of it, here’s and excerpt from Cambria’s log written by David:

“What do I think of Alaska?” After yet another five endless days of sitting out in incessant rain and low overcast clouds and fog I can truthfully answer the question. I consider myself reasonably long on patience and even longer on perseverence, yet I’m done with this. It feels like October in July – hiding out from weather for days at a time. I sense no change in the weather patterns over the next days and weeks . . . . Irrespective of what the barometer predicts, the conditions seemingly do not change. So yes, I’m done. Ready to get out of here and find some sunshine – any sunshine at all – wherever that may be.

Granted, SE Alaska is a rainforest and you should expect to see (on average) three to four inches of rain during the summer months. But we saw close to 11 inches in July. That’s a big difference and can be very difficult to deal with on a small boat, especially when you know everyone south of 55° N is enjoying record levels of sunshine – some days it was hard not to feel like we’d made a huge mistake by coming. With that said, it won’t always rain 11 inches in July (it was a record-breaker, after all), but it’s a good idea to be prepared for the possibility.

Distances Between Anchorages

With over 26,000 miles of coastline, Southeast Alaska is huge. And because we’d planned to make the trip only once, we attempted to cover as much ground as we could. It was a big ask. Too big. I did my best to choose anchorages that were within reasonable distances to each other; but even then, we were moving at least 25 miles on a good day and 40 to 50 miles most others. All. Under. Motor. It was great whenever we were going up a fjord and had the scenery to keep us entertained but, for the most part, it was pretty boring. Had we been able to sail, it would have been a different story, which brings me to my next point . . . .

Lack of Sailing

The complaint about the lack of opportunities to sail along the Inside Passage is nothing new, but we thought Southeast Alaska was going to be an improvement based on blogs we'd read and stories from friends who'd been able to sail from one anchorage to another. Considering some of our routes were going to put us beam on to the prevailing wind; it seemed not only possible, but probable. It wasn’t. Not for us anyway (though I have an exceptional talent for choosing destinations that put us straight into the wind). We managed to get our mainsail up once, but that was with 25+ knots from behind (it would have been a great sail if the sea state had been kinder). And we threw out the jib on a few occasions to help push us along but, for the most part, the sails just sat there collecting cobwebs.

It’s a shame, too, because both David and I agree that we’d do the trip again in a heartbeat – all 3,100 miles – if we could sail most of the way there and back. Not only would sailing change the economics of such a season, but it would make it a lot more fun.

Rarely on Our Own

Before reading any further, it’s important understand one thing: we spent several years cruising northern British Columbia where you can go days without seeing another living soul – either up close or at a distance. There’s something very special about being anchored in a remote location where there’s no sign of man, past or present. It can be addictive and it’s absolutely our drug of choice. We’re not unsociable creatures, but when we’re out in the wilds we prefer to experience it the way nature intended – alone. But Alaska wasn’t the great remote, wilderness experience we’d hoped it would be. Even when we had an anchorage all to ourselves, there was always somebody else coming or going – fishing boats, crab boats, float planes and other cruisers.

Lack of Good Cruising Guides

Comprehensive cruising guides for Southeast Alaska are few and far between. There are really only two options: “Charlie’s Charts North to Alaska” by Charles and Margo Wood (2004) and “Exploring Southeast Alaska: Dixon Entrance to Skagway” by Don Douglass and Réanne Hemmingway-Douglass (2007) – neither of which is current. We used the Douglass series for every other section of the Inside Passage, so we chose it for Alaska as well and, I have to say, we were a little disappointed.

SE Alaska boasts over 26,000 miles of coastline and Douglass tries to address it in one single book. By comparison, he published three to cover 10,000 fewer miles in British Columbia. Because of this, some of the information given seems rushed and incomplete while other information is overlooked entirely. There were several times we chose an anchorage based on his recommendation and were disappointed with the protection and holding. Other times, we made our own decisions based on what we saw on the charts and discovered some great locations – places he had written off. Even still, we’re confident in saying that it’s the best guide on the market with the caveat that it doesn’t have all the answers – look to locals for that.

NOAA

Another area where we found information lacking was NOAA’s VHF weather report. We generally had reception, but the radio forecast only spans 48 hours which, oftentimes, wasn’t enough. The written text covers five days and that, along with the synoptic charts, would’ve enabled us to make better decisions. We do have a SSB and a Pactor modem aboard but the graphic card on our main computer went out in April and our backup isn’t set up to receive WeatherFax. Had we known that we’d see a cellular signal as much as we did, we would have purchased an unlocked hot spot and bought a SIM card from AT&T before leaving the Seattle area (AT&T and GCI, an Alaskan company, are the only two carriers in SE Alaska). With those two things, we could have downloaded the information from the internet on a fairly regular basis (every five to 10 days).

Alaska Can Be Distant

David and I have spent several seasons cruising in northern British Columbia where the waterways are narrow, sometimes less than a mile wide, and take you right into the Coast Mountains. And despite the fact that it’s a really bad idea to form expectations, we thought Alaska would be more of the same. I personally had visions of rugged mountains with snow right down to the water lining the channels. But that’s not what we found. With a few exceptions (Misty Fiords, Glacier Bay, Tracy and Endicott Arms), Alaska keeps its distance: It doesn’t embrace you like northern BC and has an overall lack of intimacy. That’s not to say it isn’t beautiful. It is. But more often than not, that beauty was out of reach.

Commercialization

We found Alaska to be highly commercial. Not just the cruise ships, we were prepared for that. What we hadn’t taken into account were the hundreds of fishing boats – seiners, gill netters, perseiners, crabbers. And the impact from local tourism – float planes, “un-cruise” ships, charters, whale-watching boats and bear-watching vessels . . . even Forest Service cabins. Just about everywhere we went there was one kind of commercial endeavour or another nearby, but that’s the downside of cruising to one of the world’s most beautiful and desirable locations . . . everybody wants to see it. And eco-tourism and fishing are vital to the state’s economy. I’m not sure most people would care but, for us, it felt a little touristy and contrived at times. It just wasn’t the remote wilderness experience we were hoping for or had come to expect from years of cruising in northern British Columbia.

Crabpots and Fishing Season

We were surprised at how many anchorages where overtaken by crabpots – filling the best and most protected spots. Everyone has to make a living and the season is short, so you shrug your shoulders and carry on, but we did have an unfortunate incident when a couple of crabbers surrounded Cambria with pots while we were anchored and told us to “deal with it” when we questioned their judgment (we had to up anchor without our engine on to get clear of all the lines). For the most part though, the fishermen were very friendly and quick to answer their radios whenever we hailed them to ask where their nets were. What made it a “negative” for us, again, is that the number of fishing boats coming and going meant we were rarely on our own.

Lack of Opportunities to Go to Shore

With brown bears roaming the shoreline, getting off the boat to take walks was a rare occurrence. We knew that before going but, even with the knowledge, I don’t think we were prepared for the amount of time we’d spend on the boat . . . or the amount of weight we would gain because of it. Other factors came into play: The heavy rain, for a start. But we were on the move so much, oftentimes for eight or nine hours, and that limited our opportunities even more.

So, would we cruise to Alaska again knowing what we know now? Honestly, we wouldn’t want to relive the month of July again. It did a lot of damage, both mentally and physically. At the end of it all, we felt so beaten and drained that we were done: Done with the season. Done with Alaska. Done with cruising. All we wanted to do was get out of there and find some sunshine. Any sunshine at all. But at the same time, we’re grateful for the experiences we did have – they truly were a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. There are places we saw while we were there that were beyond our wildest dreams and we would love to experience again – the next time with first-hand knowledge and hindsight as a guide. But unless we find a kind sailing wind to carry us across the border, I don’t think it will happen – and that make me a little sad . . . David, not so much.

Alaska Inside Passage Notes From the Dockside

Why Sail to Southeast Alaska? Ten Reasons You Should Go

Friday, January 22, 2016TheCambrians

Sailing to Southeast Alaska is the pinnacle of cruising not only for those of us in the Pacific Northwest, but many cruisers world-wide. It’s one of the most stunning places on earth and has found its way on more than one bucket list – for cruisers and landsman alike. And now that the 2015 season is behind us, I thought it would be a good opportunity to reflect on the time we spent in her waters. To do that, I’ve written a total of three blogs: The first one lays out several factors that impacted our experience and impression of the area – the weather, commercialism and sailing to a schedule – and can be read here. The second (this one) lists some of the things we enjoyed about cruising in Alaska. And the third will cover the things we didn’t like about cruising in Alaska.

Amazing Scenery

It probably goes without saying, but Alaska is absolutely beautiful which is why “amazing scenery” tops our list of things we liked about cruising in Southeast Alaska. It’s also a very large area and some places are (much) better than others. Here are some of the scenic highlights from our season:

· Misty Fiords National Monument (Walker Cove and Punchbowl Cove in particular) gave us more of what we love about cruising the Pacific Northwest, northern British Columbia in particular. It’s one of those places that doesn’t translate well into words or pictures, where dramatic scenery towers above head and the inlets are lined with high glacial cirques and u-shaped valleys. Most people liken it to sailing through Yosemite National Park, but even that doesn’t do it justice. It’s just one of those places you have to see to believe. We’ve heard that a lot of people skip Misty Fiords and make a b-line for the glaciers. If that’s true, they’re seriously missing out.

· Tracy Arm is by far and away the most beautiful fjord along the Inside Passage. The day we spent inside her walls was a highlight, not only from this past season, but our entire 15 years of cruising. It was an amazing and humbling experience, one we won’t soon forget and would love to repeat. A close second to our time in Tracy Arm was neighboring Endicott Arm, Fords Terror in particular. It was, hands down, the most beautiful place we’ve ever had the pleasure of anchoring in. Our only regret is that we didn’t stay longer. The few days we spent there weren’t nearly enough to absorb the incredible scenery.

· Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve is like sailing back in time. For the first 20 miles or so inside the park boundaries, the landscape is fairly ordinary and uninspiring. Hours can pass under the keel before the scenery begins to take shape and come into focus; but once it does, words like “raw”, “overwhelming” and “powerful” come to mind. Glacier Bay’s main attractions lie some 50 miles inland, where rugged mountains line the head of the inlet and massive rivers of ice flow down to the sea in walls that can stretch a mile-wide and reach 150 to 200 feet into the air. For us, sailing up to the face of one of these behemoths in our own home was an once-in-a-lifetime experience and something we won’t soon forget.

Tidewater Glaciers

Alaska is one of the few places remaining in the world where you can view tidewater glaciers. Today they’re mostly found in Antarctica and Greenland (ice sheets), Chile and Scandinavia making it also the most accessible to recreational vessels thanks to the protected waters of the Inside passage. Seeing one, especially from the comfort and safety of your own home, is a rare and privileged event and we were overwhelmed by the experience and the raw beauty of it all.

Wildlife

If the scenery isn’t enough of a reason to sail to Southeast Alaska, the area is teeming with wildlife: Migrating humpback whales bubble feed for herring. Orcas follow the salmon runs. Black and brown bears graze on sedge grass at the head of secluded anchorages. Bald and golden eagles soar above head while blue herons and oystercatchers guard the shoreline. Seals birth their pups on floating islands made of ice. And so much more. Everywhere you look, there’s something new and exciting to see.

Hot Springs

We LOVE soaking in natural hot springs and Baranof Island has several to choose from. Unfortunately, we were only able to try Baranof Warm Springs but it ranks high on our list and is probably the best natural hot spring along the Inside Passage – both in terms of scenery and water temperature.

Diverse Cruising Grounds

Not only does Southeast Alaska have more than 26,000 miles of coastline to explore, the cruising grounds are as diverse as they are expansive: From glaciers to white sand beaches; protected waters to the open-ocean; islands to fjords; anchorages filled with dozens of boats to ones that look like they’ve never seen man, Southeast Alaska has a lot to offer. On any given day we could find ourselves surrounded by rugged, snow-capped mountains, anchored off glacier-fed waterfalls, watching brown bears forage along the shore or soaking in a natural hot spring. So if variety is what you’re after, Alaska’s a good place to start.

Well-Protected Anchorages

I’ll be the first to admit that there were several times that I felt disappointed when we sailed into an anchorage: Many of them were large making them feel open and exposed, but the protection we found was generally very good with good holding in mud. A prime example would be Ratz Harbor. Despite the fact that you can clearly see out into Clarence Strait, the protection and holding are excellent. In fact, we rode out gusts over 50 knots out of the southeast in flat calm waters one day in June.

Alaskan Brewing Company

Spending an afternoon at the Alaskan Brewing Company in Juneau is a brilliant way to pass the day, especially a cold and rainy one. First off, it’s not a tour. It’s a tasting. For five bucks you get six 4-ounce tasters and a souvenir glass. But, if you’re feeling really cheap, you can belly up to the bar for free and get three tries at what’s on tap. Secondly, it’s a major social event and more like being at a party where you don’t know anyone but still enjoy each other’s company. As an added bonus, it’s within walking distance of the Costco, but we wouldn’t necessarily recommend combining the two lest you end up with a trolley full of Alaskan Amber (I may or may not be speaking from experience).

Friendly People

Whether it’s on the water or in the towns we visit, the people living in the Pacific Northwest are the best of the best: They’re generous, friendly, welcoming and trusting. In our experience, locals are eager to help and will offer to lend you their cars, drive you around town or invite you into their homes within five minutes of meeting. Alaskans are no exception.

Fishing

Despite the fact that we don’t fish ourselves (for a host of reasons too numerous to post here), I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention fishing when writing about the best that Southeast Alaska has to offer the visiting cruiser. People come from all over the world and pay thousands of dollars to charter outfits for the privilege of fishing these waters while most cruisers can fill their pots with Dungeness crab or reel in salmon, halibut and ling cod (to name a few) all for the low, low price of a fishing licence.

Long Days

But what good is all of this without days long enough to enjoy it? In the height of summer, the sun rises around 3:40 every morning and sets at 10:30 pm with twilight in between. Some nights, when the sky is clear, you can see well enough to read outside which meant we had plenty of time to move from anchorage to anchorage and still explore our new surroundings.

And that completes our list. I hope you’ll check back next week for the third part to our series on Southeast Alaska or ‘Like’ us on Facebook to receive links to the blog whenever there's something new to read or to see what we've been up to lately.

If you have anything to add to our list, we’d love to hear from you in the comments section!

Alaska Inside Passage Reflections on Cruising

Southeast Alaska | Reflections on a Season Past (Part 1 of 3)

Monday, January 18, 2016TheCambrians

Sailing to Southeast Alaska is the pinnacle of cruising not only for those of us in the Pacific Northwest, but many cruisers world-wide. It’s one of the most stunning places on earth and has found its way on more than one bucket list – for cruisers and landsman alike. And now that the 2015 season is behind us, I thought it would be a good opportunity to reflect on the time we spent in her waters. To do that, I’ve written a total of three blogs: one listing the things we liked about cruising in Alaska, another about the things we didn’t like about cruising in Alaska and this one, the back story, which lays out several factors that impacted our experience and impression of the area – the weather, commercialism and sailing to a schedule.

The Weather

It’s easy to sit here 3,200 miles and six months later and say that it was the most incredible season we’ve ever had: David and I saw and did things while we were there that exceeded our wildest dreams and that we would love to experience again. But that’s not always how we felt. Cruising to Southeast Alaska can be very challenging and is a lot of hard work, which is fine; we knew that before going and signed up for it. But we picked a particularly bad season weather-wise and the work versus reward ration was out of balance for us a lot of the time.

Things started off well. The weather was beautiful in May when we arrived; and when June came around, we found ourselves in a regular pattern with four or five nice days followed by two or three days of unsettled weather. But then July set in and the heavens opened up: Juneau saw record-breaking rainfall, most of it during the last three weeks, and it was even wetter where we were. To put things in perspective, we saw almost as much rain in July, the height of summer, as Seattle did this past December – over 11 inches.

We’re not averse to getting wet. This is the Pacific Northwest and Southeast Alaska is a rainforest, after all. But we went to Alaska for two reasons and two reasons only – the wildlife and the scenery, neither of which was showing its face. There simply weren’t many opportunities to enjoy ourselves, to get out in nature and absorb our surroundings. We knew we wouldn’t be able to go to shore much because of the threat of brown bears, but torrential rain kept us out of our kayaks and trapped below deck for days on end.

Commercialization

It wasn’t just the rain that put a damper on our experience. We found Alaska to be highly commercial. Not only the cruise ships, we were prepared for that. What we didn’t take into account were the hundreds of fishing boat – seiners, gill netters, perseiners, crabbers. And the impact from local tourism – float planes, “un-cruise” ships, charters, whale-watching boats and bear-watching vessels. Just about everywhere we went there was one kind of commercial endeavour or another nearby. It was hardly the remote wilderness experience we were hoping for or had come to expect from years of cruising in northern British Columbia.

Sailing to a Schedule

Another difficultly we encountered was that we had to sail to a schedule, something we try to avoid at all cost. But because we wanted to visit Glacier Bay, it couldn’t be avoided unless we’d arrived early enough in the season to enter the park boundaries before reservations were required (June 1 through August 31). We did try to make it to Alaska sooner but got stuck below Cape Caution for a week waiting out hurricane-force winds. After that, we made the choice to stop off in Ocean Falls to visit friends and linger a few days in places like Bishop Bay Hot Springs (for obvious reasons) and Prince Rupert (because we’d never been). In hindsight, we should have made more of an effort.

It wasn’t just Glacier Bay that required a permit. Visiting Anan Wildlife Observatory did as well. And thanks to some misinformation and a lack of follow-up on my part, we purchased our permit online two months in advance rather than in Wrangell during the week we wanted to go. This put us on another schedule, one that had us sitting around in the rain most of the month of July biding our time until we could go watch the bears fish for salmon. Of course, it wasn’t our intention to sit around; the weather forced that one on us.

And that’s pretty much the back story to our season in Southeast Alaska. I felt it was important to lay the groundwork because, despite the incredible beauty of the “Last Frontier”, the factors I mentioned in this blog made a large impact our experience in a negative way: Some of that was our fault. Some of it was Alaska itself. But most of it was the weather. Simply put, we picked the wrong year to go.

Alaska Inside Passage Notes From the Dockside

Ketchikan is Calling

Friday, January 15, 2016TheCambrians

Ketchikan was calling, but we’re in no hurry to answer. With Anan Wildlife Observatory done and over with, our time in Alaska is basically finished. We still have 95 miles to go before we cross the border into

Canada

but, for all intents and purposes, the “fun” has ended. All we need to do now is put miles under our keel. The funny thing is we aren’t in that big of a rush to leave Alaska. Moving south is always a difficult thing to do, especially for me, because it means summer is almost over and the season is coming to an end.

Tired from a long day of bear watching on Friday, Saturday got off to a somewhat slow start. It was going to be a beautiful, sunny day and the thought of spending it moving rather than in an anchorage where we could enjoy it wasn’t very appealing so, after talking it over with Jim and Laurie, we decided to move over to Frosty Bay where the promise of a large (and entertaining) colony of seals was waiting – a whopping 10 miles from Fool’s Inlet.

We arrived first and JouJou rafted up to us. It was a pretty anchorage, and quiet. A little too quiet in fact – the seals we’d come to see were long gone. Even without the added distraction, I have no idea where the day went, but I know it ended well – with the four of us sitting in Cambria’s cockpit sharing stories and watching the sun paint the sky orange.

Early the next morning, Jim and Laurie dropped their lines and sailed off into Ernest Sound. Good-byes are never easy, even when they’re only temporary, and it felt a little lonely in the anchorage after they left so we upped anchor ourselves and went to nearby Vixen Inlet where we would wait for the next round of weather to move through and for the conditions to improve before making way for Ketchikan – neither one of us interested in repeating our previous experience in Clarence Strait. Little did we know that we would have to wait four days.

They say time and tide wait for no man, but man (at least the one I’m married to) surely waits for the tide . . . and weather. Come Thursday, we got the break we were looking for – one that would carry us to Ketchikan and beyond to Prince Rupert in British Columbia. But we didn’t get started until 11:30 am so we could take advantage of the push down Ernest Sound and Clarence Strait. The conditions were more welcoming this time around (5 knots from behind), so we threw out the jib to give it some air and help move things along a bit . . . a very little bit!

We could see a couple of sailboats miles off in the distance doing the same thing. We slowly gained ground on them as the afternoon wore on, and as we were approaching Tongass Narrows, I pulled the binoculars out. Just as I thought – it was Tom and Gale on Impossible Dream with John on Gypsy Woman leading the way. We pulled into Bar Harbor South within minutes of each other and got together for drinks later that night to compare stories and talk about where we’d been. Once again, we were on completely different tracks: They went on the outside of Baranof Island to Sitka while we went inside and east to Petersburg and, yet, we still managed to arrive in the same place at the same time. What are the odds? They must be pretty good because that makes the eighth time we’ve ended up in the same place as Tom this season.

Friday was non-stop from morning until night. David stayed aboard and changed the oil and installed an AIS receiver that Jim had given him (and walked all over Ketchikan looking for the parts to do it). Gale and I took the bus to Wal-Mart to provision. In the afternoon, there was more shopping, laundry and long, hot showers to take. The day was completed with dinner at McDonald’s to access their free wi-fi and check the weather.

We had an excellent forecast for Saturday – winds out of the northwest increasing to 15 knots with 3-foot seas becoming southeast late. The winds for Sunday were predicted to go light which would be perfect for crossing Dixon Entrance. We were good to go. So, we dropped our lines in the morning and rode the current south. Inside Tongass Narrows, not much was going on. The breeze was calm and the sea was flat, so we motored with the tide into Revillagigedo Channel and that’s when everything changed. The wind was blowing out of the southeast, contrary to the current, and we bashed and crashed like a breeching whale for hours. We were slowed down to 3 or 4 knots and finally gave up when the spray started to come over the dodger, turning off and making way for the nearest safe harbour – Kah Shakes Cove where we would spend our final night in Alaskan waters. So much for NOAA’s northwesterlies!

Note: This blog was written on Saturday, 15 August 2015.

Alaska Bears Inside Passage

Anan Wildlife Observatory: Bears, Bears and More Bears

Saturday, January 09, 2016TheCambrians

We love bears: Black bears. Brown bears. Big bears. Small bears. It doesn't really matter. As long as they're not too interested in us, we're super-interested in them. So making a trip to Anan Wildlife Observatory to watch them fish for salmon has been on our list of things to do for years. It’s not a park or a zoo. The bears are wild and free to roam wherever they like. They are, however, habituated. The bears who fish in Anan return to the creek year after year and are used to seeing humans. That doesn’t mean they won’t attack if they feel threatened (though none ever have), but they’re not too curious or interested in people . . . just fish. And that’s our kind of bear.

Getting there was half the fun.

Anan is located south of the city of Wrangell, about 70 miles from Petersburg. There are several narrow channels of water where the current can be strong, so timing is important. To make things easier, we split the trip into three parts: Petersburg to December Point, December Point to Madan Bay and Madan Bay to Anan, skipping Wrangell altogether.

We chose Madan Bay for one reason – location. It’s just north of a section of water called The Narrows, where the current can run up to several knots. But it’s a canny anchorage and a really nice place to spend the night. For some reason I didn’t take any pictures of it, not that I can find anyway, and I regret that because we really enjoyed our time there, however short it may have been: We were off again the next morning to take advantage of the push down Blake Channel and to reconnoiter Anan Bay before moving on to our next anchorage, Fool’s Inlet at the southern end of Wrangell Island.

As we were approaching Anan, we heard a call on the VHF from JouJou. Jim and Laurie were able to purchase a permit in Wrangell and were on their way, so we made plans to meet in Fool’s Inlet for the night. Being a few miles closer, we arrived first and dropped anchor behind a small island in the northeast corner of the bay. They arrived shortly afterwards and rafted up to us.

It’s funny. Until we tried it, we were rafting-snobs and found the idea of tying up to another boat at anchor contrary to the whole purpose of cruising – being self-sufficient. But our opinion quickly changed after trying it out ourselves. Not only is it bloody convenient, it can be a lot of fun. In fact, it’s how we met Jim and Laurie in the first place.

The day we’ve been waiting for.

Anan Creek is home to one of the largest salmon runs in Southeast Alaska and attracts a large number of bears, both brown and black. In fact, it’s one of the few places in the world where you can see both feed at the same time (just one more reason to go!). And it was finally our turn to spend the day there.

We left Fool’s Inlet at 7:00 am and made our way over to Anan Bay where we safely anchored the boats (more on that in a separate blog) for the day before taking the dinghies to shore. We checked in with the Forest Service representative who gave us a quick orientation before sending us off on a half-mile boardwalk that leads to an observation deck overlooking the creek and a bear blind. The blind is right off the creek and bears walk underneath it, only inches below your feet, to catch salmon that are stuck in an old fish pen – it’s crazy! But the real action takes place on the other side of the water in one of the best fishing spots.

There was an old black bear hiding out in a cave that would come out every now and again to fish. He reminded me and David of Sally (our dog) and how difficult life can be for a geriatric animal, especially in the wild. The poor old guy had seen better days and it showed: His eyesight wasn’t what it used to be and he panted a lot as he struggled to catch a fish, but he finally got one before going back to his cave . . . we couldn’t help but cheer for him.

It started to get busy around noon with tour groups arriving from Wrangell, so we decided to go to the boats for a break. On our way to the dinghies, there was a juvenille brown male fishing just off the trail. We did as we were instructed (talked loudly to alert him of our presence and stayed on the boardwalk while we continued walking) but, honestly, what I remember most about the experience is the hope that this guy really would be more interested in fish than us and that he’d stay put. Well, he was and he did. But that didn’t stop the adrenile from rushing . . . or my instinct to freeze (but that may have just been an excuse to pull out the camera).

We went back a couple of hours later, after things had quieted down, and had the place to ourselves (along with a Forest Service Interpreter). At first there were three black bears fishing in the creek, but they all disappeared into the bush about the same time. Shortly afterwards, Laurie spotted a brown bear downstream moving toward the falls (where the fish pool). She had three young cubs with her and was very thin . . . and very nervous. The Forest Service gal told us that there were four cubs that morning, but the runt got separated from its mother and was killed by a juvenille male. We watched from the bear blind as the family made their way upstream, the cubs eager for a taste of salmon. Her fishing wasn’t going well and they had to settle for scraps left behind by other bears before Mom rushed them back into the bush . . . and to safety: A larger brown male had come out to fish downstream.

Closing time came all too quickly, and we walked back to the dinghy with the gal from the Forest Service, calling “hey bear” along the way. We saw another grizzly fishing just off the trail but I didn’t feel as nervous this time around, probably because she was carrying a gun (though my instinct again was to stop). We said our thanks and our good-byes and went back to the boats, upped anchor and made way for Fool’s Inlet for the night, JouJou rafting up to us again.

The day had been one big adrenile rush and we had trouble assimilating the experience – I mean, really, who does this? Who goes bear-watching in their spare time? I’m sure there actually are a lot of other people who do, but that doesn’t make it seem any more real. Not for a girl from Kansas and a lad from Yorkshire, anyway. For us, it was an opportunity of a lifetime . . . and well-worth the wait!

Note: This blog was written on Friday, 12 August 2015.

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