Glaciers! Icebergs! Fjords! (Commentary Only)

Hi friends! 

I kept the commentary in the previous entry short, focusing instead on the glaciers and their recent retreat in this drastic climate change. 

I've decided to add my day-to-day journal entries for that time anyway, just in case anyone's interested. Pictures are in the previous post.   

June 16 (Day 50)

Despite Petersburg’s charm, glaciers were calling. We rode the 9:30am slack out, northeast across Frederick Sound to Thomas Bay (known as Taalkù in Tlingit). Through the narrow entrance, Thomas Bay is wide with plenty of glacial wind—just right for sailing.

Anchoring information is vague in the cruising guides and Coast Pilot, but we found plenty of protection in Scenery Cove. We anchored in the southernmost part of the cove between the 7-8 fathom marks, dropped the hook 200 feet from shore, backed up 75 feet, and tied a stern line to the bank. We highly recommend this anchoring spot. Our anchor didn’t move an inch all night.

Baird Glacier is located quite a way around the corner of the mud flats and rocky patches at the head of Thomas Bay, so we couldn’t travel to it with our large boat. Instead, we paddled against the slightly weaker current on the east side of the channel and carried the kayak over a couple large rocky shoals. After that, it got difficult.

Before climbing over the rocky shoals, we marveled at small blocks of ice in the water called “bergie bits.” As we paddled closer, the icebergs grew much bigger.

The icebergs were wedged in so tight that finding a way through them created an interesting challenge. We’d think we found the way through the maze, but it would dead end and we’d have to reverse; with channels as narrow as our kayak in some areas, we’d have to pull ourselves along the ice. We’d think we found another way through but it would dead end again. This went on for a while.  

Finally, a large clearing—and then, Baird Glacier! Our first glacier! All to ourselves and spectacular.

Leaving the glacier was much easier than approaching it; we simply rode the current on the west side of the flats back to Novi. Those choosing to visit the glacier with an outboard can travel through this channel both ways thereby avoiding the ice labyrinth. But where’s the fun in that? J

Later we learned Tlingit village of the Taalkù Aan was located at the head of Scenery Cove but disbanded generations ago. Several features of human habitation remain. Looks like we'll need to return here to check it out.

June 17 (Day 51)

We left Thomas Bay under sail power, which added a fun challenge to transiting the narrow entrance. This would be good practice for dodging icebergs days later. We found a northerly 10-15 in Frederick Sound, so we tacked back and forth to Portage Bay (Nàaxdik', meaning "Short Port" in Tlingit) on the north end of Kupreanof Island. The opening to Portage Bay is known for riptides and whirlpools. Despite intensity in the entrance, however, the anchorage was glassy and peaceful south of East Point.

June 18 (Day 52)

After a zero-wind forecast, we were pleasantly surprised to find high winds in Frederick Sound—real high winds, like 27 knots apparent. With both sails reefed, we were flying!

…Until Stephens Passage, when the wind inexplicably slowed to 3 knots. Oh well, it’s hard to get bummed about wind in a place this beautiful. Not an hour goes by that we forget how lucky we are to be here. We’re savoring every moment, even if we’re motoring, caught in rain and cold, or doing boat chores/projects. Every day, we’re living our dream.  

We entered Gambier Bay on the east side of Admiralty Island and anchored in the small cove on the southeast side of Good Island. Wildlife was abundant here, from the whale at the entrance, to the dolphins riding our bow wave into the anchorage, to the eagles and goshawks diving for fish. It was a little out of the way from Stephens Passage, but worth it.

June 19 (Day 53)

We assumed Stephens Passage was choked full of fish as fishing boats seemed to scatter motionless throughout it. But as we sailed closer, we noticed they weren’t fishing boats at all—they were icebergs! Huge icebergs in the middle of a major Alaskan passage! They were coming straight from Endicott and Tracy Arms, our destinations for the next few days.  

Endicott Arm was first. The bar at Wood Spit (Kēet Noowù: Killer Whale Fort in Tlingit) shows the full extent of the Sumdum and Dawes Glaciers before their retreat at the end of the last ice age. After we crossed it, the water became a vibrant teal. Sumdum Glacier welcomed us on our port side, and snowcapped peaks surrounded us. It was stunning.

We passed Wood Spit at 3pm, and we knew we needed to make it to the entrance of Fords Terror, 15 nm further into Endicott, a little after 7pm. This gave us plenty of time to sail at a cautious pace with a constant bow watch. The big white or blue icebergs were easy; it was the small, transparent ones that hid behind our jib that kept us on our toes. We loved sailing among icebergs, but we decided to play it safe and take down the mainsail earlier than we needed to in case the ice became too congested to turn upwind later. Still, the wind had reached 26 knots, and we felt silly motoring the last 3 nm to our destination. 

   

We arrived at Fords Terror early, so we waited in the temporary anchoring area outside. Fords Terror got its name in 1889 after a man named H.R. Ford became stuck in the rapids in his rowboat for 6 terrifying hours. We didn’t want a similar experience, so we watched the rapids carefully through our binoculars and examined the flow of ice and kelp near our boat. About 10 minutes after Juneau’s high tide slack, the current seemed calm enough to transit.

We realized immediately after we entered that we were a little early. The rips and favorable current made us slide a little, but fortunately in a “this is fun!” happy way rather than a “we’re all going to die!” scary way.

After the narrows, we entered Fords Terror proper. It was magnificent. With close, massive granite walls; rushing waterfalls; and steep, snow-capped rock bowls, it surpassed all our expectations. John Muir got it right when he remarked the following about Fords Terror in Travels in Alaska: ". . . We found ourselves on a smooth mirror reach between granite walls of the very wildest and most exciting description, surpassing in some ways those of the far-famed Yosemite Valley."

Fords Terror is shaped like the letter “T” with the narrows at the south. We decided to anchor in the west arm at the head of a cascading waterfall. The area is not well charted, so finding safe anchorage takes some trial and error. We noticed it shallowed immediately from 8 fathoms to 1.2 about 500 feet from the waterfall’s mudflats, so we recommend 9-10 fathoms further out. 

 

June 20 (Day 54)

We wanted to explore everything, and with this much paradise to cover, we couldn’t do it all by kayak. We finally gave in, inflated our big Achilles dinghy, and attached our 4hp outboard. We enjoy our kayak but admit the dinghy was much easier and more comfortable. We may just have to fit a quiet, electric outboard to it so we can justify using it all the time.      

June 21 (Day 55)

It took a lot of willpower to leave Fords Terror. We could have easily fallen deep into dream state and stayed here for a week or so, but we want to keep ahead of schedule too. 

Note to other mariners: This time, we waited until a half-hour after Juneau’s highwater slack to cross the rapids, and it was completely calm.

Back in Endicott Arm, the winds hadn’t yet picked up so we had to motor-sail the first several miles. In Holkham Bay (known as Sitku, "the place of glaciers," in Tlingit), we turned northwest through the bar into Tracy Arm. This entrance is much narrower than Endicott’s with less visibility on the side of the Snettisham Peninsula, so passage through it requires a forewarned securité call on channel 16. Sometimes others will radio us, ask to change to a working channel, and chat about safe crossing, conditions, wildlife, or our trip so far. Talking on the radio is a great way to connect to other mariners out where we travel miles apart.

Tracey Arm is one of the most popular places to visit by boat in SE Alaska. It extends 25 miles to two large glaciers and has only one known, safe anchorage: a small cove 1.5 nm north of the entrance bar. Though only three boats were anchored when we arrived, it soon filled up. From the cockpit, we monitored an iceberg moving close to us; when it finally hit shore and we could head in for the night, we counted 18 other boats anchored around us. Since leaving Petersburg, we hadn’t seen 18 boats TOTAL! Where did they all come from? 

June 22 (Day 56)

We woke to find the cove practically empty. Oops. We enjoy our sleep we suppose.

By leaving at 8:30 instead of daybreak, we didn’t have much time to follow the channel to both glaciers and back before nightfall, especially since we wanted to sail as much as possible. It’s at least 50nm roundtrip, made significantly longer with each slow gybe and tack. Without a safe anchorage along the route, we would need to do all 50+ nm at once.

Tracy Arm is undoubtedly pretty. The cliffs stretch 2000-6000 feet over the lush, verdant valleys. Small glaciers hang off far peaks. Waterfalls abound. It’s comparable to Fords Terror with much more room to explore. Forget pretty, it’s gorgeous.  

But is it worth the hype? When we were actually sailing, we definitely thought so. But weak winds and ice congestion forced us to motor about half the time. North Sawyer was spectacular, but the muddy water concealed the clear bergie bits, so we struggled to avoid them. We also found the main attraction, South Sawyer Glacier, too busy and ice-congested to properly enjoy. We crept closer, until icebergs covered every route across, many with seals lounging, and we grew nervous about finding a place to turn around. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but it was tense all the same.  

These glaciers are retreating fast, and while we were thankful to see them, it just didn’t feel right to burn diesel at their heads. Add the mini cruise ships and obscenely long luxury yachts and the carbon footprint involved in seeing them outweighs the value—at least in our eyes. Instead, we preferred Baird Glacier from the previous days, where we could sail the large entrance, anchor a couple miles away, and quietly kayak to the head without disturbing any wildlife. 

   

June 23 (Day 57)

Once we left Tracy Arm’s entrance bay, we caught a northbound wind to Taku Harbor (previously known as Si'knaxsàank'i or "Little Black Bear Community") where ruins from an early 1900s cannery lay near a campground and free dock. Free! We took full advantage of it.

The ruins were fascinating, full of old beams and unusual machinery; we enjoyed scouring them for rusty old parts and attempting to identify their uses. Hundreds of sheets of round, metal lids fused into the rock, retaining a coppery look and smell even now. 

Up Next: Juneau! Grizzlies! Our Northernmost "Turn-Around" Spot!

Note: We added Tlingit names after exploring maps at Sealaska Heritage Center in Juneau and maps shared by Dave's sister, Cailin. After returning to Seattle, we may return to earlier posts to add original names as well. If any readers see errors or can help us fill in gaps, please let us know!