And So The End

Paddled into Whittier this afternoon to arrive right on high tide just as planned at the small beach right next to the ferry terminal. 

We've only been away from Whittier for five days since last Wednesday, when we called in for supplies, but it seems much longer ago.

So, stocked up with food we headed out of Passage Canal and north up Port Wells to Barry Arm and into Harriman Fjord where there are no less than four tidewater glaciers surrounded by 10'000' peaks and their numerous hanging glaciers. It was nice to be off the beaten track a little. Compared with Blackstone Bay and it's busy boat traffic it was a haven from the sound of motors. Apart from a couple of glacier tour boats that came and went briefly mid afternoon we had the place to ourselves. It was our turn for some rain though, the peaks disappeared behind low clouds and the tarp went up for shelter. A smokey fire was lit to try and discourage the bugs which had us wearing our head nets for the first time since Icy Bay. 

The next day the clouds were lower and the drizzle thicker so it wasn't a very scenic tour of Harriman Fjord before we were back out into Barry Arm and heading for a campsite on Point Pakenham. 

Just short of Point Pakenham Lynne headed inland to look for fresh water while I kept the boat afloat on the quickly ebbing tide. Over the whole two months we have seen so few kayakers that it was a pleasant surprise when another double cruised around the corner. Of course we got chatting, and yes they not only knew where Tasmania was but the guy (sorry I can't remember your name!) had spent a lot of time there, he EVEN knew where Huonville was! Conversation ranged from his environmental hero - Bob Brown, to foxes, to the comparison between the rainforest here and in Tas. Lynne returned and joined the conversation and we rambled the evening away, us standing in knee deep water, they sitting in their boat. We'll keep in touch we promised as I wrote my email address on the deck of their kayak with a china graph pencil. 

As we turned to leave it was obvious how distracted we had been chatting to these paddlers. There was our double left totally high and dry on the barnacle covered rocks by the ebbing tide! With help from the guy and much grimacing on our part as we left yet another trail of yellow gel coat on Alaskan rocks we heaved it back afloat. 

As we have cruised around Prince William Sound over the last couple of weeks our morning starts have got later and later especially if it's raining. It wasn't raining the next morning but it was still 11.30 by the time we were on the water and heading north again for only 12km to the start of the Coghill Lakes track. With such long daylight hours such a late start doesn't really matter but I still felt a bit uneasy setting out from camp at 4.30 in the afternoon for a walk if at least four hours. 

Our campsite with a lovely shale beach and real grass was one of about ten or so that are in the running for the top five camp spots of the whole trip was the closest we could land to the track start a kilometre away. Being Tasmanian bush walkers and not fazed by a bit of scrub we headed into the trees to thrash our way through to the track. We needn't have worried, it was fairly easy going, even a steep gully was fairly straight forward once we found a bear trail to follow. 

Once on the trail proper it took us over an hour to reach Coghill Lake cabin a Forestry Service public use cabin. The trail was rough, muddy and seemed to climb and meander through the forest in the most obtuse way so wasn't that much easier going than the off track bush bashing. 

As the day had progressed the clouds had slowly started to clear and by the time we reached the cabin a hot sun shone from an almost cloudless sky. 

Hot and sweaty I opened the door of the cabin and noticed three cans of drink left by the precious occupants, two cans of Heineken and one of Coke! 

In the time it took to think "By golly, a cabin in the woods with beer and I'm really hot and sweaty and I don't care that it's warm Heineken" I had drunk half a can. Then Lynne arrived and polished off the other. Thank you, thank you, whoever the beer gods were that left those cans. 

The cabin, mainly used as a base for fishing was a simple but cosy A-frame, there was even a boathouse with a aluminium row boat. Although it was tempting to go for a row on the lake in the lovely evening light we were starving and it would be a good couple of hours back to the tent. 

The next two days, the last of more than 60 paddling days we headed south in no particular hurry. Though we surprised ourselves by covering over 40km on one of those despite a post 11am start. Our excuse was a good NE - NW sailing breeze on and off most of the afternoon. 

Another really lazy morning this morning, Lynne for was up and broke all the rules by bringing me a coffee in bed. What the hell, we were going away from this spot in a couple of hours and not using the tent in bear country again so if the tent smelled of coffee, so what. 

Breakfast in bed followed then later we fried up the remaining bacon for brunch, it was either that or throw it away in Whittier as we couldn't cook it on the ferry. 

On the water about midday, three hours to Whittier with the flooding tide. 

And so the trip finishes.