Three Amazing Experiences.

So far three things from this trip will stick in my mind for ever. 

Two of them involving just about the largest and smallest animals we're likely to come across in this part of the world. 

I was leaning over a jetty turning off a tap and I heard a buzzing like a very loud bee or a wasp in my right ear. Instinctively I went to flick my right hand out to swipe it away but as I looked up there was an Anna's hummingbird hovering completely motionless looking straight at me an arms length away. 

Not my picture by the way!

Its wings beating so fast that like a helicopter's rotor blades they were almost invisible, it hung there for just a few seconds then it flew away at such speed it might as well have just disappeared into thin air. 

We've become familiar with the buzzing now and often hear it but they fly at such a speed that by the time you're aware of the sound they've gone, you'll never see them. 

The other animal? Well. A whale. Diving. A boat length in front of us. Its huge tail gracefully arching out of the water and then disappearing silently with hardly a ripple.

The third I still can't believe happened. 

Anyone who has done any repetitive physical activity such as walking, cycling or kayaking for any length of time will know how sometime the time flies but other times seconds seem like hours and the hands of your watch seem glued in position. 

You plug away knowing that even though your paddle feels as though it is made of lead, the sea of treacle and you're paddling up a 45deg slope that from a relaxed grip on the paddle through to feeling every stroke alternately on your footrest you are actually moving along quite nicely. Quite as well usually as when it feels like you are flying. 

I've had the same on long bike rides, the feeling that your tyres are made of lead and the road is made of treacle is so strong that I've actually stopped and spun the wheels certain that the brakes are rubbing so badly they're slowing the bike to a crawl. But, no it's all in your mind, usually the mind of a tired and hungry body. 

Sometimes it's the other extreme; one's thoughts are taken far away by the constant and repetitive mantra of the paddle or pedal stroke and time flies, 15, 20mins or more goes by in the blink of an eye.

We were well up the West Coast of Baranof Island, the confused seas near Cape Ommaney were behind us. It was after lunch when with a full stomach and well and truly warmed up by the morning's paddling I am usually feeling my best. 

I looked at my watch. An hour and a half had gone past in the blink of eye. Nothing - interesting sea birds, a discussion about navigation, a comment about the coastline or the sea conditions. Nothing at all had broken me out of my meditative reverie for an hour and a half, I couldn't believe it. I looked at my watch again, surely I'd misread the hour hand but no, a whole 90 minutes had slipped by as though I had been asleep. I'd sub consciously steered the kayak in the direction we wanted to go, kept paddling and the boat upright with absolutely no recollection of my thoughts or daydreams over that time.

Black Ink Graphics

A friend has just done this fantastic 'ambigram' for us. 

Check out more of his work here http://www.zazzle.com/black_ink_graphics

Ferry Time

Three and a half days on a ferry has the potential to be very boring but it has proved to be a great time to reflect on the trip so far and relax ready for the adventures ahead. 

We are both well equipped with books, mostly on our phones but also some real paper ones. There are a surprising number of little jobs to keep us occupied too, such as marking landing spots on our maps of the Kenai Coast and Prince William Sound and charging up the batteries of our numerous electronic devices.

Too many maps are barely enough. 

Eating of course sets the timetable of our days, we brought enough food aboard for breakfast and lunches and buy dinner in the cafe/restaurant onboard. The supermarket in Juneau provided us with an industrial quantity of pain au chocolate for $6 so with a decent cup of coffee or two we're really roughing it for breakfast.

6 o'clock is beer o'clock. 

 

And of course drying stuff out. Even though the tent was 'dry' (i.e. it wasn't actually raining) when we packed it up it felt extremely damp when we pitched it in the solarium area where we are sleeping. With drysuits and other bits and pieces airing we, I think along with most kayakers, are really good at making anywhere they end up look like a laundry. 

A quiet time too though to contemplate the last three weeks paddling, the huge amount we've learnt about a part of the world completely new to us, the mistakes we've made, cough, cough, losing all our billies, mugs and bowls on our first night! The fantastic, interesting and such hospitable people we've met have really made the trip, from a short chat about the tides with a fisherman to food, drink and a cosy bed for the night everyone we've met has been open, friendly and welcoming. 

Juneau Rest and Relaxation

Our lovely few restful days camped at Louisa Point, Auke Bay about 24km north of Juneau are almost at an end, just a similar few restful days on the ferry to Homer to look forward to now! 

First day ashore is of course washing day, very sensibly launderettes here always seem to have showers so the washing of both bodies and clothes is very convenient for smelly kayakers. 

The next day, scrubbed and clean, we headed into Juneau, where downtown was identical to Ketchikan with streets full trippery gift shops catering to the cruise ship passengers. There were two big ones berthed that morning, four later in the day! 

We escaped to the Juneau City Museum where a really interesting history of gold mining, fishing, Alaskan Statehood and capital city location unfolded. 

We were then whisked away by Rory and Jan, friends of Doug and Martina our hosts in Petersburg, for a walk along the Perseverance Trail. 

The trail originated as a wagon road by miners in the early days, the surrounding hillsides littered with mine shafts, old machinery and derelict buildings. It felt good to stretch our legs on what was in places a steep climb and even better to chat to two like minded and knowledgable locals about everything from the local plants to clear fell forestry practises and associated politics. Alaska and Tasmania have a lot in common. 

Rory and Jan's hospitality extended to beer, wine and fantastic homemade pizza at their house that evening. 

The chat of course continued, ranging from their Feathercaft kayak adventures, volunteer trail building and a five week cycle tour on their Bike Fridays around Tasmania last summer.

Thank you again Rory and Jan for your company and hospitality.

The blisters on our hands have long turned into callouses and a week or so off the water will allow little wounds to heal. Lynne's fine but for some unknown reason I got a blistered rash on the backs of my fingers up to the first knuckle. With wet hands every day and being knocked about stuffing things into dry bags numerous times a day etc, they weren't healing.

After about 3 weeks and over 900km paddled we are well and truly paddling fit and ready for the next stage - The Kenai Coast. 

It's very easy looking at a map and casually saying "Let's paddle that bit" especially if, as in the case of the Kenai Peninsular, the coastline is convoluted with many offshore islands offering shelter and possible landing spots. 

As this coastline was our Plan B we had not researched it to anywhere the same degree as the last few weeks or The Lost Coast, our original plan. No problem though, what else is there to do sitting in the launderette or in our tent out of the rain with a smart phone and an internet connection!

Within a couple of days, we had downloaded the relevant charts, a great guide book for cruising sailors and kayakers, joined the Alaskan sea

kayaking email list and made contact with local kayakers who have paddled the coast and offered a heap more useful info. 

With all that information the simple wish of "Let's paddle that bit" has evolved into trepidation and anticipation. Trepidation, as of course things are never as simple as a quick look at a map. The coast is rugged, remote and has a couple of long sections with no landing places, a couple of tricky headlands to get around, has wild weather at times and a new hazard for us - strong katabatic winds coming off the glaciers in the afternoons.

Anticipation, as of course all the above is just how we like it. 

We are really looking forward to the few days on the ferry to continue the R&R but it's also the perfect opportunity to spread out the maps, read through and collate all the information we've found so we are ready to hit the water again next Sunday. 

Part One - Ketchican to Juneau - The Route

Each evening we have a little guessing game before I get out the 'expedition string' and measure the distance covered for the day.  I write up the day's notes and draw our creeping progress on the big Alaska map.  It's a comforting piece of concrete evidence of our journey!

So here is the map after Part One of that journey. The orange spots are our campsites, or occasional beds!

West Coast of Chichagof Island, Icy Strait to Auke Bay.

At 11.30, a little over 24 hours after arriving in Sitka we pulled away from the beach and our last landfall on Baranof Is. 

We would have liked to have stayed longer but with a ferry to catch to Homer from Juneau on the 24th we really couldn't afford the time just in case we were held up by the weather or other circumstances. 

We stayed at the hostel in Sitka, run in the quaint way all hostels used to be with a curfew and lights out at 11pm, morning cleaning tasks and 'guests' are locked out between 10am and 6pm. The hostel was $48 for both of us for the night, the next cheapest vacancy we found was $225. 

On the recommendation of the hostel vollies we ate out at 'The Pub'. They had the local Baranof Is beers and a nice drop of Californian Cab Sav. The place was rocking, crowded with young people with a free blues band on Weds nights and Saturday night a hip-hop gig. There were at least four pool tables and half a dozen darts boards all busy as hell. We quizzed our waiter at length as he came and went with food and drink, to try and pin down why such a little place (popn. 8,500) relatively in the middle of nowhere was just so radically different to any of the other towns we have visited. Sitka is a major administrative centre and there is University of Alaska campus; tourism too of course but only the small cruise ships call in there with far less frequency than the large ones that call in to Ketchikan and Juneau.

Dave at the Hostel had another explanation; "Don't forget" he said, "Sitka's located over a major geo-magnetic focus."

As we cleared the harbour breakwater the forecast Sou'westerly picked up so both sails went up and we had the best downwind run of the trip so far. The wind and the tide took us north and most of the way through Neva Strait. By the time we were scouting for a suitable landing and camping spot it was pouring with rain and I was thinking we would be using our kitchen tarp for the first time. 

We rounded a point and I noticed a mooring buoy; at first I didn't take any notice of it but then it dawned on me that it was a strange place to have such a professionally constructed mooring. Just back in the trees there was a cabin, again I didn't take much notice as in places the coastline is dotted with private cabins. 

A second look and I noticed the cabin was a bit small for a private one, then the penny dropped - it was a Forestry Service public use cabin and mooring. We did the quickest U turn in kayaking history. 

Sure enough on landing it proved to be a three sided emergency shelter. Someone had draped a big plastic tarp across the opening, there was a wood stove, big chunks of dry firewood and sleeping benches. It was still bucketing with rain. 

Within an hour we had unpacked, got the kayak above high water level, got the stove roaring and dinner on. 

Luxury!

The next day was a wild one, pretty grim weather, pogies on, hoods up we set off out of the shelter of Neva Straight along the exposed west coast of Khaz Peninsular. Sure enough the swell had picked up during the night so it was a wild ride for about 8km to shelter inside Klokachef Island. The forecast had been for 30kn Southerlies but as every forecast in the trip so far had overestimated the wind speed we had taken a punt that today would be the same and we were right. 

The interesting bit though was getting into the channel behind Klokachef Is, the swells were steepening up in a very worrying fashion so we dare not head right in. For a while we still had one sail up but it would gybe every time we crested a swell so it came down pretty quickly and things seemed a little more under control. The swells were big, and they felt about the same distance apart as they were high, they were so close together. Every now again the wind would blow the top off of one just as we were at its crest and we'd get a couple of buckets of very cold water over our heads just to add to the fun. 

From the crests we could see calm water inside the island but it never seemed to get any closer, until suddenly the waves didn't seem quite so big and confused and then equally quickly we were breathing a sigh of relief as we glided through smooth water. 

There was no sheltered landing spot on the island so we crossed to the mainland and into the lee of a rocky spit. 

It was an obvious place to land with shelter from wind and sea and there sure enough was some colour in amongst the trees. Orange, blue and red - kayaks and tents. Other paddlers! 

A figure emerged and came down on to the bouldery beach as we landed. As we greeted I couldn't help recognising the accent - the paddler was from Darwin and had lived in Hobart! 

There were five of them altogether, the remaining four from Alaska, and we soon joined them in their cooking spot. After a couple of hours paddling and the tension of big seas we were starving but couldn't stop long because of the rising tide, the surging waves on the bouldery beach with a strong off shore wind! What could possibly go wrong!

The other paddlers were having a day off, both because of the weather and also they'd had a very early start the day before to catch the tide through a strait that dries at low tide. 

They too were paddling from Sitka to Juneau but with a few extra days than we had, and we caught up on our respective trips. They had never seen a breakdown boat or sails like we have and I think we enhanced the reputation of Tasmanian sea kayakers as we set off back into the big seas northward along the rest of Khaz Peninsular. 

A couple of hours later we had the same problem, we couldn't get into the shelter of the offshore reefs and islands because of the steepening swells and we didn't want to get into the same conditions we'd had at Klokachef Is. We eventually found a more sheltered gap in the rocks and then almost immediately a lovely little sheltered beach for a second, less social but more relaxed lunch. 

The next day the sea had calmed down considerably and it was quite sunny and warm, very pleasant paddling plus we had more hot springs to look forward to. 

We had heard the bath house at White Sulphur Springs had been rebuilt recently and that it was very nice but we were totally blown away by the bath house and hot pool inside. The quality and aesthetics of the cedar post and beam construction, the natural rock pool and two big sliding windows that opened to the view across the bay and out to sea were stunning. The water was HOT too, it took us quite a while to gingerly immerse ourselves. 

Again as at Goddard hot springs we were the only ones there, but only just. A large group were leaving in a big tinny as we arrived. The guy at the helm had shouted to us "You're brave being out in that swell today".

We had received similar comments a number of times, paddling the 'outside' waters rather than the sheltered 'inside' waters seemed to be the reserve of the brave or foolhardy. The inside waters are very pleasant paddling, similar in many ways to a ginormous D'Entrecasteaux Channel. The only conditions that might be of concern are the wind and a big fetch, the most technical decision would probably be, "Do I want to paddle into this headwind any longer or shall we just stop here and have a cuppa and wait for it to drop?"

The conditions the helmsman thought we were brave in tackling would not be out of place on the East Coast of Tasmania. The sun would have been a bit hotter, the water a lot warmer but a 1.5-2m swell is not uncommon on the East Coast. Here, unlike a lot of the Tasmanian coast there are lots of opportunities for shelter and landing inside the deep fjord like inlets or behind the islands dotted along much of the coast. 

The next day just north of the hot springs we headed into Lisianski Strait, our short cut through to Cross Sound and Icy Strait, uneventful inside waters apart from a few hot sunny hours on a sheltered beach fixing our mast steps. Long story and I thought I had fixed them but obviously not. 

As we headed into Icy Strait through Inian Narrows and South Passage with the flooding tide and the last few days to Juneau we realised we had been paddling for exactly three weeks. Throughout that time we had seen whales or seen them blowing in the distance just about every day. Throughout the day entering Icy Strait we rarely saw less than three groups of whales or plumes of vapour in the distance at any one time! 

We sat out of the rain under our tarp that night as humpbacks, sea otters, porpoises and sea lions cruised backwards and forwards only a few hundred meters off shore. 

We are now camped on Louisa Point, near Auke Bay and the Alaskan Marine Highway ferry terminal. 

Another full value day's paddling today. Cold and rain all day, some great sailing, a sprint in the middle of a 6km crossing to miss being run over by a ferry, a good few hours of solid plugging into a headwind and pretty much all day against the current.

Then having reached our camping spot and settled in, a very friendly local, Bob, took us for a drive to the Mendenhall Glacier. 

Sitka In The Sun.

Sitka on the West Coast of Baranof Island is a cool place. Bikes everywhere, funky cool houses with a touch of Russian influence, totems, wind chimes, farmers markets - you know the vibe.

Oh and did I mention they have their own brewery too? Baranof Is Brewing Company and mighty good beers they are too. So very much appreciated after the nine days paddling from Petersburg. 

The weather continues its dream run though we have had some of the  inclemental type slowing us down on the East Coast of Baranof and some interesting seas off Cape Ommaney. 

Getting around the Cape was such a classic sea kayaking day. A cruisey warm up, some tension and excitement and amazing scenery. 

We left Port Alexander with just enough flood tide for us to get to the Cape at slack water. The local fisherman at PA had mentioned that the current virtually always flows south between Wooden Is and the Cape irrespective of the state of the tide. It seemed prudent though to be there at slack water as rounding the Cape sounded tricky enough without adding further complications. The forecast 15kn Southerly was less than half that so we slid smoothly through calm water for the 10km.

A classic day, as rounding any feature like this always generates an element of tension. Despite all the local knowledge and our own decisions you still have no idea what actual conditions lay ahead. The tension builds as you get the first glimpse of the horizon, no lumps! Looks good. The horizon looks straight and level, no really big swells or big lumpy seas. 

But of course our eye level view is from barely 80cm above water level. The nervousness mounts as inexorably the kayak gets closer to the action, the first white water is spotted, at first the odd splash of white off to the east, close to Wooden Is, not a good sign. Then within a couple of km our horizon was filled with white water, as predicted the Southerly current hitting the open sea, steepening the waves and causing them to break. 

As we got closer and could actually see the final rocks of the Cape the seas ahead didn't look inviting, at all. The waves looked very steep and very close together but it looked like we could get behind them by heading around the outside of Wooden Is. 

Once around the island the conditions didn't look too bad so we turned Northward and into the mess of steep waves fringed with white. 

Once in the middle of it there's nothing else to do but keep paddling. The seas were really messy, no rhythm, just chaotic big lumps yawing the kayak through 45degs and lurching us up and down with stomach clenching force, all to the sound of white water breaking all around us. Concentrating like mad on the waves to be prepared to brace if necessary and snatching quick glimpses of the Cape off to our right, lining up the rocks with the cliffs behind to ensure we were heading where we wanted not drifting SW with the current.

The confused seas abated but it was still uncomfortable going for an hour or more as the tide, the rebound from the cliffs and the SW swell all combined into a sea where suddenly your arm can be up to the elbow in a wave or conversely your paddle skips through fresh air as the water drops away suddenly from the side of the kayak. 

Such going is hard work as it is impossible to get into a rhythm but despite this we seemed to be moving along nicely. 

With the excitement over for the day we started appreciating the wild rocky coastline, precipitous hillsides dropping from snow clad peaks, thickly forested fjords cutting so deeply into the mountain range that they almost cut through to the east coast. Kayakers sick of waiting for suitable conditions to get around Cape Ommaney have been known to portage the 1.5km gap between Port Lucy and Puffin Bay. 

Slowly conditions eased and the usual paddling rhythm returned; now to find somewhere to land for lunch. It didn't look easy and our map was useless for such minute detail. We turned into one or two bays which were far too rocky, then cutting in between two small islands into a haven of mirror calm water a tiny jumbled bouldery cove enabled us to step ashore. There was no way we could land the kayak but the water dropped away deeply enough to enable us to simply tie up the kayak as if alongside a jetty. 

A little under four hours from Port Alexander and we were starving. 

The rest of the west coast of Baranof Is has been equally wild and remote. Landings weren't easy to find but something always came up after a little hunting around. It's great how quickly we start reading the coast and its geology to start getting hunches on likely landing and camping spots. 

As we neared Sitka, NWesterlies were forecast, slowing us down a bit just when a beer, a shower, clean clothes and a food stock up were near. Not far out of Sitka though we did find the true meaning of bliss - Goddard Hot Springs. 

The last shower had been at Petersburg eight days before, so it was absolute bliss to strip off and slide into a natural hot tub!

Stormbound In PA

Cracker of a day yesterday, despite a distinct change in the weather with heavy rain during the night and a forecast 15kn Southerly. It was the sort of day to get straight out of the tent and into thermals and dry suit. 

Now many of you will not quite realise how hard core this trip is for us. Our usual routine in the morning is to wake up just enough to open the fly screen tent door and put the billy on to boil in the vestibule of the tent. Then there's a few minutes to lie back and doze until it boils. Coffee made we both sit up in our thermarest chairs and enjoy the first cup of coffee still in our sleeping bags. Breakfast in bed is usual too. 

Not here though. Bear protocols have put paid to that; our 'kitchen' is at the other end of the beach and our food including that essential first cuppa of the day is 3m up tree, at a third distant point from sleeping and eating. 

So I trudge along the beach, lower all our food, carry what I need back to our kitchen area, set up the stove and finally put the billy on. 

I contemplate this change of routine over that first morning coffee as I sit in the rain instead of my thermarest chair. 

The last few days have been really cruisey as far as tides are concerned; high tides first thing in the mornings when we setting off and then again of course high again in the afternoon or evening on landing. Also now we are nearer open ocean the range is far less. 

We were on the water leaving Kuiu Is about 8, high tide was about 9 and the crossing of about 15km should take us about 2 hours. This was perfect timing as if the forecast 15kn Southerly came in we really didn't want to be in the middle of Chatham St with the southerly ebb steepening up the waves and generally making the crossing slower, wetter and unpleasant. There wasn't a breath of wind but with cloud level down to barely the tops of the trees along the shoreline visibility was only 2 or 3km. We lost sight of Kuiu Is after about 10 mins paddling. 

We'd seen two big cruise ships the day before, and there always seemed to be lots of fishing boats around so two pairs of ears and eyes were kept busy on the crossing. Sure enough about 9.30 those dark patches that might or might not have been Baranof Is coalesced into solid ground. By now the ebb tide was picking up speed so with it we turned south towards Cape Ommaney. 

The East Coast of Baranoff Is drops steeply straight into the sea so landing places are few and far between. We knew of some potential landing spots from other kayakers so at least had places we knew we could camp. This drop into such deep water must suit the salmon though as seine net fishing boats chug their way slowly up and down this shoreline almost continuously. A humpback whale too had joined the procession heading north - we saw it dive a couple of hundred metres in front of us and resurface behind us.

The last couple of hours though of what turned out to be a long day were well and truly 'uphill' - the tide had turned against us and the forecast Southerly picked up so we had a headwind too. Wonderful. 

Today the forecast was similar, rain but with a 20kn Southerly so we had an extra hours sleep. There was no particular rush to be on the water as it would only mean an extra hour against the flooding tide. The wind too wasn't as strong as forecast but it was still an uphill plod into steep 4-5' waves especially around the points. After about an hour or so we were tempted to stop for the day by a nice sheltered beach, but realising quite how close we were to the Cape we plodded on knowing that given the conditions we were very unlikely to get around today but the closer we could get the better. The wind was stronger than yesterday but not the forecast 20kn. Just short of Port Alexander we came across a guy fishing from his tinny, in 4-5' choppy waves! He said the only beaches to the south were rocky and exposed. Suddenly the wind seemed to pick up and pulling into Port Alexander seemed an eminently sensible thing to do. 

So here we are cosy and warm in 'Bear Lodge' the town's community centre and library. Free wifi and feet toasting in front of the gas fire. Luxury. 

Within a few minutes of arriving we were invited in for cuppa by local fishing guide Pete Mooney at the Laughing Raven Lodge. We talked tides and the sea and boats including a lot of local knowledge that will help us get around Cape Ommaney and the locations of beaches on the west coast of Baranof. 

Tomorrow's forecast is for only 15kn Southerlies, rain of course but with slack water at 11am and the Cape only 10km away we maybe stand a chance of reaching the west coast. 

Baranof Island Here We Come

One of thing we noticed the other day when chatting about the latitudes of Tasmania, Alaska and Europe and the differing climates experienced in each area we realised we started this trip only about 5 paddling days further south than we finished our Irish/Scottish trip last year. Fort William is 56deg 39' N, Ketchikan is 55deg 21'N. 

One very pleasant observation we've made is the lack of rubbish on the beaches here and it is certainly not due to a lack of boats. From massive cruise ships, ferries, commercial seine net fishing boats to recreational fishing and yachts these water ways are busy. Far, far busier than around the remote SW and W coasts of Tasmania yet beaches there are covered in piles of every sort of plastic debris. 

So on our sixth day of paddling from Ketchikan we pulled up on Doug Leen's beach at Petersburg. We had been introduced to Doug via email by our friends Wayne and Nicole in Washington State. Geologist, Park Ranger, climber, mountaineer, Vietnam vet, dentist, conservationist, restorer of old wooden tugs and diesel engines - You name it Doug has been there and done it. Oh, and did I mention his GnTs in pint mugs!

Doug and his partner Martina were so incredibly hospitable, we were made to feel very at home for two nights in their lovely guest cabin surrounded by huge mature spruce trees and looking out over the Wrangell Narrows to Petersburg itself. 

Doug and Martina's log cabin, which they had built themselves, was so cosy and comfortable yet cluttered with a lifetime of fascinating mementos and artefacts from their varied lives. From beautiful Indian rugs to paintings hung from pitons driven into the stone chimney to a small grand piano with pages of complicated (to me!) sheet music, a grandfather clock to the most amazing collection of classic mountaineering books I've ever seen in one place. All signed too!

The conversation over GnTs, wine with delicious salmon and halibut dinners roamed widely, stories were told and solutions found for all the world's problems!

We did the sights of Petersburg including according to Doug "the most exciting thing to do in a town with fourteen churches and three bars" - park on the public road right at the end of the runway when the daily flight comes in to land and goes over your head at about 50ft! Unfortunately we missed out as the plane was late and we had things to do.

The town itself looked a little like a maritime version of Queenstown in Tasmania. Many houses were a bit tatty and rundown in a homely way, their yards full of boats, buoys, ropes, skidoos, more boats, bits of boats and even more boats in every state of decay possible. 

Despite offers to stay on another night, with clean clothes, bodies and the kayak stocked up with about two weeks' food it was time to keep moving towards Sitka. 

We are now in a little bay on the western shore of  Kuiu Island contemplating the 15km crossing to Baranof Island. It's the biggest crossing so far and after a dream run of three days'y calm and sunny weather since Petersburg, a front is due over the next couple of days. We've had amazingly settled weather the whole trip so far, only a couple of spells of rain, one night early on and during the day we were in Petersburg. 

Baranof Island will be a big step forward as it's only a couple of days paddling south along its eastern shore till we round Cape Ommaney and greet the west coast of Baranof Is. 

Us West Coast junkies will be happy then.  

In Which We Lose Our Kitchen.

Well our poor man's cruise over two nights and a day to Ketchikan from Bellingham in the Alaskan Marine Highway System was quite enjoyable. We met some great folks off on their own adventures including a cyclist on his way to Nome, which is way up north about as far as you can go. He was then heading south with the tip of South America his destination! What he didn't mention, which we found out later looking at his blog was that was just a warm up enroute for riding around the world.

Our little adventure started as most do in the supermarket. Food choice was quite a juggle as we couldn't cater as we would normally do with as much fresh veggies, bacon, salami and other goodies as we can carry. First of all space in the kayak is a bit more limited, extra warm clothes, bear spray, food hanging rope and pulleys and more were taking up space. In addition prepackaged food has little or no smell compared to veggies, bacon etc so are less likely to attract bears.

Food wrangling and other chores completed we headed into the centre of Ketchikan to find dinner. 

The Inside Passage is a cruise ship honeypot, the centre of town was little more than a few streets of gift shops, some tacky but some with amazing artwork. We preferred 'our' end town, the working end with marina berths of hundreds of fishing boats and all the active scruffiness that goes with it. 

Finally the next day on the high tide we were packed and on the water. The forecast for the rest of the week was for NW winds but no rain. Feeling good and with no real headwinds to plod into we made good progress crossing Behm Canal to camp at Caamano Point. 

Now to find a spot for the tent, then a kitchen spot at least 200ft away and judge the next high tide mark. 

Finding a spot for the tent can be hard as there is only a very narrow margin between the top of tide and the forest. It is good practise to camp out in the open with good visibility so you can spot bears approaching before they see you. That margin between tide mark and forest though is usually piled high with drift wood logs from 1.5m in diameter down. 

It was a glorious evening, clear skies, flat calm seas and a view to die for. The high tide during the night was a meter higher than the day time high so with the kayak tied up and our kitchen safely above the predicted water level we settled in for the night.

The next morning though proved you are never too old or experienced to totally stuff it up. I was up first and immediately noticed the kayak was exactly where we had left which was good, the same could not be said of our billies, bowls and mugs. It was obvious by the actual high tide mark that where we had left them was JUST below the highest water level. I started scouting around for them thinking the bowls and mugs would have floated but not the billies. The tide was way out but we scoured the 400m of sand and around the rocky shoreline a bit confused they must be here somewhere they can't have floated away. Then it dawned on us, we had been using a piece of sawn pine timber driftwood about 4"x10"x18" as a 'table' and I had neatly stacked billies, bowls and mugs on it before going to bed. All our kitchen things had been lifted gently by the tide and floated away on their own little raft.

We had no choice but to head back to Ketchikan and go shopping again. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid kayakers! Not happy! 

Now in our fifth days paddling we've learnt a lot including of course to be very wary of judging the high tide. The weather forecasts are not as accurate as we are used to from the BOM, in fact they seem to bear little relation to what we get. We've had very settled weather generally and when it's calm and sunny it's quite hot but as soon as as the slightest of breezes picks up it gets cold very quickly. When the wind does pick and they have generally been headwinds no sooner do we settle in for a long plod, they die away. 

The water is COLD! You really wouldn't want to fall in and be there for very long even when wearing our dry suits. The dry suits have been wonderful, just perfect with a set of thermals underneath we are very comfy warm and slightly damp all day whether in the kayak or ashore. 

Finding good landing spots can be tricky with very few beaches and a predominantly rocky shoreline but we haven't been stuck afloat yet. As we anticipated the tidal range of over 5m is real hassle with the heavy double. For example at Caamano Point launching at dead low tide in the morning involved wheeling the kayak to the waters edge on the trolley then two trips each with all our gear. Nothing like a 2.5km walk for each if us before a days paddling.