June 6 (Day 40)
We originally planned to leave Ketchikan and start our Misty Fjords visit today; however, with depths shallower than De Novo’s draft (the depth of a boat underwater) around her, we could only leave at or near high water. Unfortunately, those hours just happened to be the same time a squall blew through, so we stayed put an extra day.
We originally planned to leave Ketchikan and start our Misty Fjords visit today; however, with depths shallower than De Novo’s draft (the depth of a boat underwater) around her, we could only leave at or near high water. Unfortunately, those hours just happened to be the same time a squall blew through, so we stayed put an extra day.
The silver lining of this decision was we got to spend more time with my dad. Also, despite the torrential rains, the extra day gave us the opportunity to hike the beautifully well-maintained Rainbird Trail behind the university.
View of Ketchikan from the Rainbird Trail
View of Ketchikan from the Rainbird Trail
View of Ketchikan from the Rainbird Trail
June 7 (Day 41)
7:30am. It wasn’t quite high tide yet, but the winds had slowed to about 15 knots, so these were the best conditions for leaving the dock we were going to get. We would need to rotate on a dime to make the full 180 degrees turn before the pylons. My dad befriended Julian, the hotel pub’s bartender, so he and my dad helped us as we untied. That way, Dave could drive and I could watch the pylons while they watched the dock.
With their help, it was surprisingly easy. It probably wasn’t worth the time I spent drawing up diagrams of the departure and making Dave rehearse it with me, but I take my self-appointed title of De Novo’s safety commissioner seriously.
Most boats visiting the Misty Fjords will head south from Ketchikan back through Tongass Narrows and circumnavigate Revillagigedo Island counterclockwise. With the prevailing winds, that route makes sense. However, with reports calling for chop and 25+ knots from the south today, we just didn’t want to beat into that. So instead, we decided to “go where the wind takes us” and head north. By doing so, we crossed Misty Fjords off our agenda. As disappointing as that sounds, we were ready to follow the winds and get ahead of schedule. We also figured that with so much rain and cloud cover, we wouldn’t see much of the fjords anyway. And with the wind at our back, and clear skies on this route, we knew we made the right choice. To quell any remaining doubt, a pod of dolphins stopped by to ride our bow wave. :)
Good winds in Behm Channel
Good winds in Behm Channel
The sea floor is deep and rocky throughout Bailey Bay, so anchoring is not an option. The only way to visit is to tie to the one mooring ball near the trailhead.
As we sailed closer, our AIS receiver showed another boat moored at the buoy. We would need to anchor elsewhere, and the hot spring would have to wait. We were thankful this boat installed AIS; otherwise, we would have sailed 12 miles one way just to turn around!
Instead, we anchored in comfortable Yes Bay (originally Yas, the Tlingit name for mussels) in the southwest basin past Yes Narrows. Despite a large float in the middle of the basin, we had plenty of swinging room. With the immediate return of heavy wind and rain, we stayed aboard, turned on our heater, prepared a hot meal, and cozied up with a movie. Not a bad way to spend an evening.
Safe and secure in Yes Bay, though we couldn't say the same for the house on the float.
Good morning from Yes Bay
June 8 (Day 42)
After breakfast, the rain eased up, the other boat cleared out, and the Bailey Bay buoy was ours. After tying up, we kayaked to the trailhead, where a large wooden "A" was nailed to a tree. A mile marker mentioned a shelter about 2.2 miles away, and in small, faded marker next to it, someone added the barely visible words “hot spring.”
We loved it! After staying inside for so long, we were in need of some adventure and this trail came through for us.
Flooded trail
Flooded trail
Drop off at waterfall
Drop off at waterfall
Swing ferry across Lake Shelokum; we decided to skip it!
Lake Shelokum
The head of Lake Shelokum finally cleared to a grassy, marshy valley, and we had arrived. We hung our packs and wet clothes in the nearby shelter and walked the 200 yards or so to the tub. It leaned up against a steep granite precipice on one side with a rock wall on the other. Hot spring water rushed down the precipice freely and by hose; another hose ran cold water so the bathers could control the temperature. A nearby plug closed the drain and the steep basin filled up. The whole set up was pretty clever.
We were the only humans in this valley, only humans for miles and miles. The sky cleared, and we warmed the chill out of our bones. If we brought dinner and sleeping gear, we would’ve been tempted to spend the night in the shelter.
Shelter near hot spring
Shelter near hot spring
Shelter near hot spring
Hot spring tub at arrow
Soon after, I saw tree branches ruffle about 100 yards in front of us. Some black emerging. A black bear.
I crouched backward to Dave. Look! Bear! We peered around the corner and saw the full body stretch across the trail. Dave quietly pulled the airhorn from my pack and whispered to get behind him.
Unlike the adolescent we saw on shore in Allison Harbour, this bear was big enough to be an adult and round enough to be well-fed. So Dave motioned to me to scan the trees for cubs. If a black bear mother has cubs nearby, she will hold her ground and protect them to the death. And a healthy adult female would have cubs this time of year. If we seem threatening, she will attack. The best action would be to back up slowly out of the area and wait her out.
No cubs. Ok, so most likely an adult male. In that case, we would need to be as loud and threatening as possible, showing him that we aren't prey. However, before we made a sound, he noticed us and scrambled up the hillside away from the trail. He was more scared of us than we were of him.
Regardless, we wanted to make sure he kept moving. Dave blew the airhorn every 5-10 seconds as we crossed his path, and I had bear spray locked and loaded. We waved our arms around and yelled everything we could think of: “HUMANS ARE SCARY! SCAAARRRRYYYY! (AIRHORN BLAST) RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWRRRRRRRR! DON’T APPROACH HUMANS! WE ARE PREDATORRRRSSSS!” When I ran out of things to shout, I just simply started singing the theme song to Reading Rainbow and other kids shows I remembered—until finally, Dave told me we were a good half mile from the bear crossing, and I was overdoing it. Better safe than sorry though.
We highly recommend this trail and hot spring to anyone coming out this way. Stay flexible in case the buoy is in use. Bring tall muck boots, raingear, towels, and change of clothes. And be prepared for bears.
Bailey Bay
June 9 (Day 43)
We left the mooring buoy in the morning in case another boat was waiting for it as we had. We headed west out of Bailey Bay for the day’s sail, leaving it up to the wind to decide where we would anchor for the night. The winds chose Helm Bay, and we didn’t want to argue with the winds. We docked up at a free US Forests Service float, unattached but near shore.
We noticed we had some phone coverage here, and while we couldn’t make calls, we could receive some texts. My mom wrote me that she read about overly friendly bears in Helm Bay. We stayed put on our float. We had one bear scare already, and that was enough for now.
Helm Bay
Get back, bears!
June 10 (Day 44)
Back in Behm Canal, the wind picked up and we were flying! But with the wind came more sideways rain. I remember shouting to Dave that the rain seemed sharper than usual before realizing it was hail!
The only other time we've sailed through hail was in the Broughtons, earlier this trip. Then, Dave was at the helm in the thick of it; I stayed in the companionway, laughing and taking pictures. Dave savored the karma.
Hail is a trip in heavy winds!
Despite the less-than-ideal weather, we can’t complain. Winds are high, seas are low, and our solar panels don’t seem to mind the cloud cover. It may seem counter-intuitive, but we highly recommend solar power as an energy source for sailing SE Alaska. With our 450 watts, our batteries have stayed surprisingly topped off.
A moment of sun!
June 11 (Day 45)
Cleaning day! To air everything out, we needed to hang cushions, bedding, and clothing out for several hours in the sun. Ha, just kidding—there’s no sun. In fact, anything we’d hang outside would get soaked within minutes. Instead, we strung clotheslines across the ceiling of our cabin for clothes and bedding, opened every storage locker, and balanced every cushion and foam in high, architecturally-unsound forts. As the space heater and dehumidifier did their work, we climbed through our forts to treat any hint of mold. Even the fridge got a good scrub down. With Novi sparkling again, we set out to explore the town.
Thorne Bay was originally known as DA’QXUQ and was home to the Tlingit Dak Lawedih, Stikinekwan Kiksadi, and Kaigani Haida. In the 1880s, white settlers disregarded clan claims and developed salt, mine, and later logging operations there. Captain Vancouver named it “Thorn Bay” to honor one of his contemporaries, Frank Manley Thorn. Despite his many contributions to the maritime world, Vancouver had the quirky habit of finding places that already had names and, just for funsies, renaming them after his friends. Sometimes I wonder if Dave and I sailed to a new area we couldn’t pronounce, if we could rename it after our cat, Uma. As for Thorne Bay, the E was added when it was misspelled on a chart.
We liked DA’QXUQ/ Thorn(e) Bay/ Uma Bay and would have stayed longer if Petersburg wasn’t calling to us. People were friendly and inviting, especially the librarian who let us check email (and research the history about this place in case we wanted to write about it in a blog).
Cute float homes all around Thorne Bay
"Alaskan taxis" (float planes)
Thorne Bay Marina, looking north
Thorne Bay Courthouse (front) and library (back); in a town of around 500, you don't need large buildings!
June 12 (Day 46)
Despite occasional droplets, we enjoyed clear skies today in Clarence Strait.
With a favorable current and good winds from the south, we hit 8.5 knots over ground. The wind died in Kashevarof Passage, so we chose to anchor in Exchange Cove on the northeast corner of Prince of Wales Island for the night. Despite the current in the passage, we found Exchange Cove calm and comfortable.
I don’t want to jinx it (knock on teak), but tomorrow is calling for sun! Sun!
June 13 (Day 47)
No rain today! Not a drop! That meant a whole day without rain gear or thermal underwear!
Unfortunately, there was also no wind. 2-3 knots, max. After so many days with perfect winds for sailing, a day without wind was expected. We motor-sailed all afternoon, from Exchange Cove, out of Clarence Strait, across glassy Sumner Strait, and into protected Deception Point Cove—a small anchorage between Woewodski and Mitkof Islands, at the southern entrance of Wrangell Narrows.
Despite occasional droplets, we enjoyed clear skies today in Clarence Strait.
With a favorable current and good winds from the south, we hit 8.5 knots over ground. The wind died in Kashevarof Passage, so we chose to anchor in Exchange Cove on the northeast corner of Prince of Wales Island for the night. Despite the current in the passage, we found Exchange Cove calm and comfortable.
I don’t want to jinx it (knock on teak), but tomorrow is calling for sun! Sun!
Wing on wing in Clarence Channel
Clarence Channel
June 13 (Day 47)
No rain today! Not a drop! That meant a whole day without rain gear or thermal underwear!
Unfortunately, there was also no wind. 2-3 knots, max. After so many days with perfect winds for sailing, a day without wind was expected. We motor-sailed all afternoon, from Exchange Cove, out of Clarence Strait, across glassy Sumner Strait, and into protected Deception Point Cove—a small anchorage between Woewodski and Mitkof Islands, at the southern entrance of Wrangell Narrows.
Beautiful yet calm Sumner Strait
Our families ask if we’ve seen more whales. Yes, lots! We enjoy an average of at least two whale sightings per day. We’ve wondered why we saw them so rarely in Washington and BC, and now we know—they’re all up here! They’re always too far to photograph well—and neither our phones nor our non-zooming GoPro are wildlife cameras anyway—so we simply enjoy them in the moment. We think we usually see humpbacks as they’re common up here. We also see a lot of bald eagles. All we need to do is find the highest branch in any group of trees, and at least one eagle is perched there, surveying the shore. Other frequent visitors include ravens, hawks, gulls, scoters, ducks, and seals.
But today, we saw two sea otters and a moose in Deception Point Cove! Two sea otters and a moose! The sea otters were grooming their faces with their paws in their cute otter ways, and the moose was grazing on shore in its rad moose way. We love Alaska!
MOOSE! (Sorry for the fuzziness)
At anchorage at Deception Point: without rain, we could enjoy our hammock again!
June 14 (Day 48)
Wrangell Narrows is the safest, most direct path to Petersburg. It’s a 22-mile narrow (get it?), winding traffic route with over 70 channel markers. We heard the depths weren’t as accurate on charts outside the markers, so we felt compelled to stay within them. Sailing is not advisable here, especially with so much anticipated traffic, so we had to motor.
The cruising guides warned us of lots of commercial traffic through this passage, so we expected to be on the radio much of the day weaving our way around tugs pulling barges, cargo ships, etc. That wasn't the case. Though we were passed by several pleasure and recreational fishing boats, we didn’t encounter any such large commercial traffic. We only had one conversation on the radio: from the captain of a 110-foot luxury yacht asking if we’d prefer to be passed on port our starboard. We don't care; you do you, luxury yacht.
Strong currents from each entrance flow towards the middle during a rising tide (the “flood current”). Guidebooks suggest transiting the narrows near the end of the flood current so that we’d hit slack tide in the middle and be able to ride a favorable, but manageable current throughout the journey. Dave considered this an interesting puzzle, so he spent time the night before calculating the most fuel-efficient passage. According to our handy tide book, Ports and Passes, slack current in the middle of the passage was going to happen at 2:43 pm, and it was 9 nautical miles from the entrance to that slack, so he decided we should pass by the entrance (December Point) at 1:15 pm assuming we’d travel an average of 6 knots the entire way. He even made a sheet listing each channel marker and what minute we should pass by each one! While we couldn't time it exactly, the list proved invaluable for keeping track of our time and marker position.
Of all the towns we’ve visited along our passage, Petersburg ranks among our favorite. Sure, the sunshine and warmth may have affected our view, but we also found it fascinating. Its blend of Tlingit, Norwegian, sport fishing, and bohemian influences creates a unique vibe. The town centers around two significant totem poles—one honoring the Eagle moiety and the other representing the Raven moiety. Each moiety is further divided into clans; every clan in Petersburg is represented on the two poles. Because cruise ships can’t fit through the Wrangell Narrows, Petersburg isn’t on the tourist route. As so, it retains a feeling of a friendly small town.
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