S.V. CAMBRIA

Chatham Strait: Heading South for the Summer

Wednesday, November 11, 2015TheCambrians

As it turned out, we wouldn’t be able to find our way out of the rain. Not for very long, anyway.

We left Inian Cove in the morning, taking full advantage of the current (which can run over 3 knots) in North Passage and made our way back to Icy Strait and an anchorage on the northern end of Chichagof Island called Spasski Bay. The anchorage was nothing special, but it kept us away from the busy port of Hoonah which was being visited by a cruise ship. It also put us closer to Chatham Strait.

The conditions weren’t bad. Apart from a patch of fog here and there, visibility was good and the air was dry. The barometer was back on the rise, sitting at 1015 Mb by the end of the day. The next morning, it was up to 1018 Mb, promising even better weather to come. But in Alaska, the barometer lies . . . and so does NOAA.

We had a long day in store – 65 miles down Chatham Strait to Ell Cove. The forecast was favourable and so were the current predictions. If all went well, we could expect to knock the passage off in less than nine hours. But things didn’t go well . . . or at least not to plan.

It was another opening in the fishing season and we had to run the gambit of dozens of purseiners. But it’s easy to see where they have their nets so, apart from a course adjustment or two, it was a nonevent.

The wind started to fill in once we entered Chatham Strait and instead of the northwesterlies that were forecasted, we had southerlies – right on our nose. But they weren’t strong, 5 to 10 knots, and didn’t seem to slow us down much. That job belonged to the counter-current we couldn’t seem to find our way out of. Despite all the data stating we would be riding the ebb down-channel, we found ourselves slogging against 2+ knots.

But then, of course, the wind continued to build and brought the seas along with it. Our speed over ground was down to 4 knots, dipping into the 3s. At rate we were going, we wouldn’t make Ell Cove until 9:30 pm, if we were lucky. I was starting to get concerned – our time in Clarence Strait had left a lasting impression. As it turned out, David was feeling concerned as well. Not for our safety, but for our fuel levels – we were burning more than he’d calculated for and we had a long way to go before our next fuel stop.

I pulled out the cruising guide and charts to look for a place to tuck in and wait for better conditions, temporarily or overnight, but there’s nothing along that stretch of water. David wanted to go into Basket Bay but the Douglass book doesn’t recommend it. They clearly haven’t visited the inlet themselves, but the excerpt they re-published from the Coast Pilot was enough for me:

The bay is exposed to the SE, has a rocky bottom and depths of 12 to 40 fathoms, and is not recommended as an anchorage.

David was certain he could find protected anchorage inside but I put a lot of faith into the Coast Pilot.* So we agreed to turn around and go back to Tenakee Inlet – we could always fuel up there if we needed to. It wasn’t an easy decision. We had to give up more than 7 hard-earned miles, but it was a good one. The wind was beginning to steadily build. By the time we turned around, we had 20 to 25 knots behind us. And just like that, our weather wind closed.

That was two days ago and we’re still waiting for the opportunity to continue south. If it weren’t for the calendar telling me otherwise, I’d swear it was October already: The weather has been nothing but difficult lately. We have plenty of interests and jobs to keep us busy aboard but after our eight consecutive days of rain mixed with strong to gale-force southeasterlies, our patience is running thin. I’m waffling between calling it quits and heading back to British Columbia where it’s actually summer and staying in Alaska to see things through. We’ve already given up the idea of the West Coast of Baranof Island, Sitka, the El Capitan Caves. Would Wrangell and Anan Wildlife Observatory be such a big deal? After all, we’ve seen the best of the best – Tracy Arm, Fords Terror and Glacier Bay. But right now it’s a moot point. No matter what we decide to do (or not to do), we have go south and are committed to Chatham Strait.

Note: This blog entry was written Saturday, 18 July 2015.

* We later learned from our friend Tom on S.V. Impossible Dream that he had anchored there overnight safely and comfortably, so this was a mistake on my part. Winds were coming strait up the channel from the south so we could have found decent protection inside along with fair holding in 12 metres NOT fathoms (according to our charts).

Alaska Gulf of Alaska Inside Passage

The Gulf of Alaska: Inian Islands

Sunday, November 08, 2015TheCambrians

Low clouds and rain moved into the Gulf of Alaska, putting a damper on our last days in Glacier Bay. The rugged, snow-capped mountains that line the inlet where no longer visible so we used our remaining time to slowly make our way south, stopping in Blue Mouse Cove and Fingers Bay as we did. Neither anchorage was remarkable under the existing conditions, but it was easy to imagine a beautiful view was hiding just behind the clouds.

It’d been five days since we’d last heard a weather report, so we stopped back into Bartlett Cove on our way out for the latest news: Unfortunately, there’s nothing but rain and southeasterly winds in the forecast for the next week. Not ideal for what we have planned but, forever the optimists, we moved 20 miles west to an anchorage called Inian Cove with two goals in mind: To explore areas of the park outside the permit zone (namely Brady Glacier) and spend a day in nearby Elfin Cove.

We wouldn’t accomplish either one of them.

With the break-neck pace of Glacier Bay out of the way and a forecast full of rain, we took a day out to catch our breath and regroup. We’d travelled 1700 miles since April and were feeling shell-shocked from the past couple of months. There was so much to assimilate – Misty Fiords, Fords Terror, Tracy Arm and now Glacier Bay. We were beginning to understand why so many people come back to Southeast Alaska year after year. Trying to cram it all in during one season feels next to impossible: If the weather conditions don’t get in the way, the miles will.

Our season up to this point has been well-planned. I spent weeks researching possible destinations and deciding where and when we would anchor. In the end, it wasn’t too difficult – what goes up, must come down. But I stopped with Glacier Bay knowing that we would need to reevaluate the rest of our season and make a decision based on how we were doing, how the boat was doing and (most importantly) what was happening with the weather.

There are a couple of options on the table: We could go down the west coast of Chichagof and Baranof Island stopping off in Pelican, Sitka and Goddard Hot Springs, Egg Harbor and El Capitan Caves along the way (to name only a few) before backtracking up Chatham Strait to Gut Bay, Red Bluff Bay and Baranof Warm Springs. Or we could take the inside route down Chatham Strait.

Our permit for Anan Wildlife Observatory (to see bears fish for salmon!) isn’t until the 7^th of August which gives us four weeks to fill before we need to be in the Wrangell area. Slowing down our pace and finding some nice anchorages along the way to explore by kayak sounds pretty appealing. A passage on the “outside” in fog, rain and unfavourable conditions does not.

In the end, we decided to skip Sitka. It just doesn’t make sense for us. We’re not “city” people and the thought of a destination that requires a couple of nights in a marina doesn’t appeal to either one of us. There are a lot of people who disagree – Sitka is a favourite for most Alaskan cruisers. But the current forecast is calling for strong to gale-force southeasterly winds which isn’t ideal for a southern open-ocean run. If we change our minds, we can always take Peril Strait (which separates the two islands) and keep to the inside waters.

In the meantime, we were anchored in a lovely spot with a west-coast feel that merited exploring while we waited (and waited and waited) for an opportunity to see Brady Glacier in Taylor Bay.

Besides, we still needed to get to Elfin Cove.

We upped anchor close to slack tide Tuesday and made our way over to Elfin Cove – a short 9-mile run that takes you into open water. It was nice to feel the swell of the ocean again but it was a rainy, cold and generally miserable day. David wasn’t really in the mood and we probably shouldn’t have made the attempt. He was a little cranky, most likely still recovering from a cracking headache he’d had the day before caused from a change in the barometric pressure (a condition we both suffer from and call “barometer head”). But everyone, when asked, had told us the same thing – Elfin Cove is a “must-do”.

We arrived shortly after the small National Geographic cruise ship, the Seabird, had anchored. While they were busy transporting passengers to shore by the dinghy-load we searched for a place tie up. There wasn’t any room at the public dock and the best anchorage had been already been taken by Seabird. Right or wrong, we gave up (way too easily) and slogged our way back to Inian Cove against a 2.5 knot current.

And that, I’m afraid, was the extent of our foray into the Gulf of Alaska. One day the sky did manage to clear enough that I caught a glimpse of Brady Glacier, but it was short-lived and we can’t afford to wait any longer for a better opportunity. A weak low-pressure system is approaching and we need to create some space between ourselves and the coast to see if we can find our way of this seemingly incessant rain.

Note: This blog was written on Tuesday, 14 July 2015.

Alaska Glacier Bay Inside Passage

Glacier Bay: The End

Monday, November 02, 2015TheCambrians

A lot about our personal lives stays in the background of the blog: Who we really are as people. What makes us tick. Along with much of the time, effort, and amount of preparation we put into every passage, every day and every season . . . especially David.

As the captain of Cambria and the one ultimately responsible for the safety of our vessel and crew, he carries a huge weight on his shoulders, one he takes very, very seriously. Regardless of what I do to help ease his load, he continues to carry the burden himself. Not because he doesn’t trust me. He does, wholeheartedly. But because he can’t let go. I accepted this fact a long time ago and I understand where it comes from: His worst nightmare is knocking on my mother’s door one day only to tell her something happened to me on his watch.

I’d love for him to relax a little more, but I can’t change how he feels. I can only go with the flow. The rare occasions the stress falls from his shoulders and the joy of his accomplishments is reflected in his eyes are amongst the happiest times for me – this is his dream, after all, one he’s worked so hard to achieve.

Alaska has given us several of those precious moments, most recently in Glacier Bay.

We were both overwhelmed by our time here, that’s true. Floating off Margerie Glacier at the head of Tarr Inlet, in particular, was a powerful and raw experience for both of us. But David, underneath his businesslike exterior, is a sensitive person. Life affects him in ways he doesn’t often show the world. When he does, it’s a wonderful sight to behold and one of the things I love most about him.

Photographs will remind me of the incredible scenery of this past week. But what I will personally remember about our time in Glacier Bay is the sight of my husband, my heart and soul, standing on the deck of Cambria with tears in his eyes because this world we roam is such a beautiful place. There’s only one word that comes to mind and that’s “priceless”.

Thank you, Glacier Bay.

Note: This blog was written on Friday, 10 July 2015.

Alaska Glacier Bay Inside Passage

John Hopkins Inlet: A Winter Wonderland

Tuesday, October 20, 2015TheCambrians

Our day was just getting started. After an amazing morning in Tarr Inlet, we reluctantly turned our stern and started south. Our season in Alaska isn’t over, but it’ll all be “downhill” from here on – 59°N was the farthest we’d be sailing. We weren’t finished with Glacier Bay, though. We still had one more major inlet to explore: John Hopkins.

The fjord is more intimate than what we’d seen in other areas of Glacier Bay. The land seems older. The rugged mountains are steep-to and capped with hanging glaciers that feed waterfalls which stream down its sides and colour the water a perfect aqua-marine. Maybe it was the sunshine. Maybe it was the dramatic scenery. Or maybe it was a sense of familiarity. Whatever the cause, John Hopkins felt more welcoming to us than the rest of the park . . . and was my personal favourite.

We were optimistic about our chances of making it to the face of the glacier. David had spoken to Steve Hulsizer aboard S.V. Osprey (his wife wrote “Glaciers, Bears and Totems: Sailing in Search of the Real Southeast Alaska”) last night and they were able to get within a quarter of a mile. Our luck wasn’t as good, though, and we gave up a mile or two off when the ice got too thick. But there was still one more tidewater glacier to see, so we turned around and made our way back to the mouth of John Hopkins Inet and Lamplugh Glacier.

We stood off the 150-tall wall of ice for what seemed like hours watching the colours dance in the sun and making out the shapes of hoodoos while sipping from hot mugs of coffee to keep warm. It wasn’t long before the cold won out and we turned our stern once again, this time for Reid Inlet and for the night.

It had been an incredible day: One that exceeded our wildest hopes and dreams for what our cruising life would look like. One that we would like to relive over and over again . . . if only that were possible!

Note: This blog entry was written on Tuesday, 07 July 2015.

Alaska Glacier Bay Inside Passage

Tarr Inlet: The End of the Line

Thursday, October 15, 2015TheCambrians

It was a different day entirely. While Monday had been sunny and bright with a heavy haze weighing down the air, Tuesday began with low clouds filling the main channel. The barometer rose back to 1017 MB overnight, promising sunshine. If we were lucky, the sky would start to clear before we reached the head of Tarr Inlet.

We were lucky.

The clouds began to lift as we slowly motored north, breaking enough to give us a view of Lamplugh Glacier. The massive wall of ice tempting us as we passed by: It would have to wait.

Motoring up Glacier Bay is like sailing back in time. The farther you move away from Bartlett Cove, the younger the scenery becomes. The landscape grows more barren with ever mile, and more vunerable . . . it’s like seeing the earth in its infancy. This is where we find its beauty – in its primitiveness.

The head of Tarr Inlet resembles a wasteland the likes of which we’d never seen. One could be forgiven for thinking a volcano had erupted and destroyed everything in its path, particularly on the northern end where the face of the Grand Pacific Glacier has been covered by landslides and rock debris, but the opposite is true: It was the melting of ice that created this new land – desolate and bleak, yet beautiful at the same time. It’s a humbling sight.

Sitting off Margerie Glacier, we passed 59°N – our highest latitude to date and the farthest north we intend to sail. It was a cold morning; one that required several layers and a steady flow of hot drinks, though the drinks may have been more about going below decks into the warmth of the cabin than anything else.

We spent an hour or so drifting off the mile-wide glacier listening to the thunderous sounds of cracking ice echo through the bay and the explosive crashes it made when hitting the water, never quite fast enough to capture the calving glacier on film.

Margerie had us completely captivated. We were awestruck . . . how could we not be?

We were reluctant to leave. In the fifteen years that we’ve been on the water this experience, this morning in particular, had been among the best . . . the most memorable. Turning our stern to it was a difficult thing to do; we could have stayed there for hours and hours just watching and listening. But the forecast for Wednesday calls for rain, so we needed to take advantage of the fine weather while we could and there was still a lot to do . . . John Hopkins Inlet, after all, was waiting.

Note: This blog entry was written Tuesday, 07 July, 2015 from Glacier Bay National Park.

Alaska Glacier Bay Inside Passage

Reid Inlet: The Anchorage

Thursday, October 08, 2015TheCambrians

It’s difficult to imagine how many anchorages we’ve stayed in over the course of the last 15 years: Hundreds, definitely. Thousands, probably not. Some of them – like the deserted islands of Tonga, Waewaetorea in New Zealand or Chief Matthews Bay in British Columbia’s most beautiful fjord – stand out. While others are distant memories, nothing more than stops along the way. But I think it’s fair to say that Reid Inlet just fell into our “most memorable” category.

Why? Because there’s a tidewater glacier at the head of the inlet that you can safely anchor off . . . one that begs to be explored.

There aren’t many opportunities to get up close and personal with the glaciers in Glacier Bay – the pack ice and the possibility of calving keep prudent boaters at a distance. But Reid Glacier is a little different from the rest . . . most of it is on solid ground now.

As far as glaciers go, Reid isn’t as beautiful or dramatic as the others we’ve seen – Dawes, North Sawyer and South Sawyer. The ice has been weathered and now holds air bubbles that diffuse the light and soften the blues that are reflected, making them appear white and cloudy like sea glass.

A glacier starts its life high in the mountains where the snow doesn’t melt and accumulates in pockets, building year after year, until it compresses and compacts from its own weight. The snow turns to ice and eventually gravity takes over and it begins to move downhill. Once the ice starts to move, it becomes a glacier.

As it moves, it drags rocks and debris along with it that carve away the bedrock and create deep glacial valleys. When the ice reaches lower elevations it begins to melt, revealing the bedrock and leaving behind the debris, called terminal moraine. Some of the moraine is still in rock form but most of it has been ground into a fine grey powder, much like talcum.

On the surface, it’s an ugly sight to behold. But it’s here that the real beauty of Reid Inlet lies – in the rawness of the new earth and the beginning of life. It’s a simple matter of looking.

Note: This blog was written on Wednesday, 08 July 2015 from Reid Inlet after spending two nights at anchor inside the inlet.

Alaska Glacier Bay Inside Passage

Glacier Bay: The Beginning

Saturday, October 03, 2015TheCambrians

Alaska Glacier Bay Inside Passage

Glacier Bay: Bartlett Cove

Sunday, September 27, 2015TheCambrians

Sailing to Glacier Bay National Park on your own boat can be a bit of an officious experience: Permits are required to enter the park from the first of June through the 31^st of August, and you can’t apply for one more than 60 days before the date you arrive. There are only ten permits issued by reservation available, and they go quickly. Reservations have to be confirmed by phone 48 hours before the scheduled entry date or they’ll be cancelled. Before crossing the border into the main park area, you have to call the ranger station by VHF to check in and receive instructions. And you’re required to attend a mandatory orientation that doesn’t exactly inspire or inform. In other words, you end up doing something most of us try our best to avoid – sailing to a schedule.

But it’s worth it.

We approached the park boundary close to 2 o’clock Sunday afternoon and David radioed in to receive permission to continue. The ranger on the other end instructed us how to proceed within whale zones and advised us that we were required to keep our speed under 20 knots – no problem there. With permission granted, we made our way up to Bartlett Cove, the only developed area within the park boundaries and the park headquarters.

Our orientation wasn’t scheduled until 5 o’clock, so we tied up to the dock and walked up to Glacier Bay Lodge and Visitor Center in hopes of finding a television to watch the Women’s US Soccer Team play

Japan

in the World Cup Finals. There was none to be found, so we browsed the displays in the Visitor Center about the history of Glacier Bay (it was only 235 years ago that the spot we were standing on was under ice) and walked along the trails to see ‘Snow’, a humpback whale that was killed by a cruise ship in 2001, and Tlingit Indian tree carvings.

The orientation lasted no more than a half an hour, but it was scheduled late enough in the day that we’d missed slack water at Sitakaday Narrows and had no chance of bucking against the 6-knot current that was already flowing. So, we called it a day and went out to anchor, spending our first night in Glacier Bay in Bartlett Cove.

Glacier Bay Timeline:*

Circa 1600: Glacier Bay was a valley with active salmon streams and had been the ancestral home of the Tlingit Indians for thousands of years. At the end of the Little Ice Age, the glaciers began to advance and drove the Tlingit 30 miles south to Huna.

1750: Glaciers begin to retreat.

1778: Captain James Cook arrived on the H.M.S. Resolution and named Mount Fairweather. George Vancouver and William Bligh were part of the Resolution’s crew.

1794: Captain George Vancouver returns aboard the H.M.S. Discovery and describes Glacier Bay as a “compact sheet of ice as far as the eye could distinguish.”

1879: John Muir enters Glacier Bay in a dugout canoe guided by Tlingit Indians from Wrangell. The ice has retreated 40 miles since 1794.

1925: President Calvin Coolidge establishes Glacier Bay National Monument.

1939: President Franklin Roosevelt doubles the size of Glacier Bay National Monument.

1953: The first modern cruise ship arrives.

1966: Glacier Bay Lodge opens.

1980: Glacier Bay is given national park status and preserve lands are added.

Present day: Approximately 500,000 people visit Glacier Bay National Park each year, most of them by cruise ship, which are limited to two ships per day.

Note: This blog was written on Monday, 06 July 2015.

* Information from The Fairweather Visitor Guide published by the Alaska Geographic Association.

Alaska Inside Passage Juneau

Mendenhall Glacier: What were we thinking?

Wednesday, September 23, 2015TheCambrians

Cambria was too quiet after our friends, Paul and Julia, left and we needed to do something drastic to change things up: So, we decided to become tourists and take the city bus to Mendenhall Glacier.

When we got there, the scene was pretty much what we’d expected: Hundreds of people aimlessly milling about with cameras in their hands, cruise ship ID tags around their necks and fanny packs around their waists. In other words, a pretty depressing sight. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And (apparently) we were desperate, so we joined the frenzy and tried our best not to look smug and blend in. I don’t think we did a very good job.

We walked to a photo outlook and Nugget Falls, working our way around the masses of people taking selfies or pictures of their loved ones in front of the glacier. It felt contrived and a little cheesy – a bit like Disneyland (complete with a park map pointing out the attractions). For a couple who’s used to arriving places on their own keel, it was too much: We needed to rejoin the non-vacationing world . . . and fast!!!

So, we went to Costco.

David likes to joke that shopping’s a sport in my family. But because we live on a boat and I don’t have the room to hoard piles of useless junk, I limit my addiction to provisioning. And, for me, there’s no better place to get a fix than Costco. Surely that would help improve our moods . . . or at least mine. Besides, we were out of beer.

As it turned out, filling a cart with hundreds of dollars of comfort food did make us happy (until we had to pay for it). But there was no way we could lug everything we’d bought on the bus (let alone back to the bus stop), so we called a cab and “Doug” came to pick us up.

Twenty dollars later and we were back in Auke Bay carting everything down to the boat when we noticed a couple walking towards us on the dock. The man looked familiar, but we couldn’t place him right away. It turned out to be Tom, a single-hander we’d met back in May. The first time we saw him was in Bishop Bay then Lowe Inlet, Prince Rupert, Ketchikan and, now, Juneau. The funny thing is, since Ketchikan, we’ve been moving in completely different directions.

We still had three days to kill before we’re allowed into Glacier Bay and lots to do before we could leave Juneau: The engine oil needed to be changed. I needed to buy fresh provisions. The laundry needed to be done. The diesel tanks needed to be topped up. David needed to go up the mast. But most importantly, we needed to visit the Alaskan Brewing Company.

With a forecast of 25 to 35 knot winds out of the southeast for Thursday, we weren’t going anywhere. And neither were Tom and Gale on Impossible Dream*. So we took care of boat jobs on Wednesday and made plans with them to take the bus to the brewery the following afternoon.

It was the best $5 we’ve ever spent.

First off, it’s not a tour. It’s a tasting (with information about the history of the company thrown in for good measure). For the price of admission, you get six 4 ounce tasters and a souvenir glass (we may have had more like 8 or 9 and possibly ended up with extra glasses in all the beer-drinking chaos). But, if you’re feeling really cheap, you can skip the souvenir glass and belly up to the bar for three free 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 are having fun getting to know each other than a boring brewery tour: I really don’t think we could have found a better way to pass the time on a cold, rainy, windy afternoon (for the record, I thought "Gold Creek" was really nice but we both agree, "Alaskan Amber" is beer of choice).

The weather was much better on Friday and we should have been on our way, but it was still too windy to go up the mast. A couple of days before, an eagle had landed on our wind vane and left it dangling like a broken limb. Before we could go, David needed to assess the damage to the anemometer and either fix it or replace it (we have a spare aboard). So, I called Glacier Bay and told them we wouldn’t be in until the 5^th – losing one of our precious days inside the park – and used the time to finish up some boat jobs.

By Saturday morning, the sun was up and the wind was down, so I hoisted David to the top of the mast for a look. Fortunately, the eagle had only bent the wind vane and he was able to bend it back into shape, fixing it on the spot – I think it’s fair to say we lucked out there.

With the last of the chores completed and David safely back on solid ground, it was time to get moving again – Glacier Bay, after all, was waiting!

*Tom’s boat, Impossible Dream, has an interesting pedigree. It was originally owned and named by Roy Disney when they were developing the first feature-length animated film (Fantasia). People told him and his brother, Walt, that it would be “impossible”.

Note: This blog entry was written on Friday, 04 July 2015.

Chatham Strait: Heading South for the Summer

The Gulf of Alaska: Inian Islands

Glacier Bay: The End

John Hopkins Inlet: A Winter Wonderland

Tarr Inlet: The End of the Line

Reid Inlet: The Anchorage

Glacier Bay: The Beginning

Glacier Bay: Bartlett Cove

Mendenhall Glacier: What were we thinking?

Welcome Aboard

Follow Us on Facebook

Blog Archive

Blog Categories

Featured Post

Why Sail to Southeast Alaska? Ten Reasons You Should Go

Popular Posts

We Survived!