We're On Holiday Now

By the time we had carried all our belongings and food bags the 2km or so from the hostel to the kayak and last minute supplies had been sourced (petrol for the stove and malt whiskey for the crew) we didn't get away from Seward until nearly 1pm (Fri 11th July) 

The rain continued and the visibility was only few kms as we plodded south along the eastern shore of Resurrection Sound to look for a camp site on Fox Island, but no luck certainly no sites with the shelter from the cold brisk southeasterly wind. 

A lone paddler we had met earlier in the day had briefly mentioned a 'kayak hostel' in Kayak Cove but as neither of our maps named this cove we had no real idea where it was. It turned out later we had pulled into a cove with a few private cabins and a very rocky shore and we had been only 50m from the hostel. 

With few landing spots and even fewer camping opportunities we had no choice but to head around to Sunny Cove on the western side of Fox Is, a further 8km away where we knew there was sheltered camping.

On around the impressive cliffs of Cape Resurrection the next day to be met with messy uncomfortable seas as the SE swell from the strong winds the day before rebounded from the steep rocky shore, it was slow going. 

Heading out away from the cliffs the seas eventually subsided a bit but not until we were 2km or more offshore. It was still slow though, despite the flooding tide in theory being in our favour. 

That afternoon to Little Whidby Bay, then the next couple of days to Little Johnstone Bay and then Goat Harbour along the Chugach Coast seemed a real trial. Despite in theory having the tide with us some of the time and pretty calm seas every paddle stroke seemed a Herculean effort. We'd both felt absolutely worn out after only 30km or so. Despite this the scenery and wildlife was fantastic, cliffs dotted with mountain goats, offshore rocks draped with harbour seals and sea lions and bays full of whales. Orcas even! A large pod of at least a dozen crossed our path in Johnstone Bay, coming quite close but they were on a mission and fast, no sooner had we spotted them ahead and they surfaced around us, they were behind us and gone. 

As soon as we rounded Cape Puget the going felt so much better.  Thank goodness! I think both of us would have given up paddling if the slow going of the previous few days had continued. 

That morning a stick had fallen from one of the trees we were camped beneath and put a 100x100mm T shaped rip in the tent fly so as the clouds cleared and a hot sun emerged we stopped at the first suitable beach on the eastern shore on the western side of Port Bainbridge to dry the tent out and patch it. We had to take this opportunity, it could cloud back over and be raining in a few hours. No sooner had the tent gone up to dry but sleeping bags, thermarests and all sorts of the items were festooned on bushes and draped over rocks to drive out the damp accumulated over the last few days of mostly cloudy showery weather. 

Despite the Kenai Fjords guide book assuring us that we would have the flooding tide all the way through Bainbridge Passage we were only about a third way through when we hit a flooding current from the north. This was of no particular concern at first as we had a good sailing breeze behind us and both sails up but as the wind dropped and our paddles felt the full force of the opposing current, it was suddenly hard work. We stopped for an hour or so on a tiny headland, one the few landing spots along the very rocky shore, basking in the hot sun while the current dropped and then, yeeha, the sailing breeze picked up again.

Emerging from Bainbridge Passage into Knight Island Passage there seemed at first to be many white boats dotted along the north western horizon. Then it dawned on us, ice! Bergy bits of various sizes emerging from the glaciers of Icy Bay and Nassau Fjord, tomorrow's destination.  

Heading up towards the Tiger Glacier the next day was every bit as spectacular as heading into Northwestern Fjord, west of Seward. Similar weather too, hot sun and clear blue skies. 

We clambered out of the kayak onto a little rocky headland for lunch and a grandstand view of the Tiger glacier 5km away. This lunch spot was unanimously voted by all members of the expedition to be by far the best lunch spot of the trip. 

Back at the entrance of Nassau Fjord our way was blocked by a 500m wide stream of bergy bits and brash ice flowing steadily out of the fjord at about 1kn. It was far too far to paddle right across to the southern shore of Icy Bay to try and get around it so we decided, perhaps in our ignorance of paddling through ice, that we'd try and push through it where the ice wasn't so tightly packed together. 

After a short time we'd perfected a paddling technique taking advantage of the blade sized patches of open water which gave us enough steerage to avoid the larger pieces and in no time at all we were in open water on the other side. 

As in Nothwestern Fjord the icefloes were dotted with hundreds of Harbour seals, dozing and lazing about on the flatter pieces of berg. 

A cold and persistent headwind slowed our progress across Nassau Fjord but we eventually reached the cliffs adjacent to the northern end of the 2km tidewater face of the Chenega Glacier. 

The tidewater faces of the glaciers are always calving, chunks of ice break off with a booming that can be heard a long way off. If we needed a lesson on keeping at least 400 or 500m from the tidewater face in case of a large fall we got it there and then. We were at a safe distance but even the waves created by the massive amount of ice falling into the fjord were a metre high by the time they reached us.  

A nearby campsite was rejected as a bit too barren and plagued with black flies so back into Icy Bay and a more homely but no less bug ridden campsite. For the first time on the trip the bugs were so bad that our head nets were used. Only a few dollars each on Ebay but absolutely priceless for keeping sane against the onslaught of buzzing, biting black flies. Even with the head net on it was still preferable to be sitting in the smoke downwind of the camp fire. 

Drinking was ok through the netting, but eating wasn't quite so straightforward as the netting had to lifted up and clear of your mouth with one hand while the other hand shovelled food in, then the netting quickly dropped before many of the wee beasties got inside. Surprisingly neither of us at any point through dinner and breakfast the next morning forgot to lift the net and spoon in food directly through the netting. 

We had been warned about the bugs and had come prepared but it had surprised us that we had come so far before getting them as bad as this. Was it just these locations or now mid summer the time of year they were in full force? If they were going to be as bad as this for the remainder of the trip then it wasn't going to be a lot of fun. 

By now we were well and truly on holiday, with a week and half to get to Whittier, only a few days direct paddling away and the start of our long journey home we had heaps of time. With no particular destination our days had already begun to start later, lunch stops longer and campsites sought earlier. 

It's sort of strange and unsettling with our final destination only days away but so much time to get there. Shall we paddle around this Island clockwise or anti clockwise? 

With the sparsely treed mountains and as we discovered easy open walking, climbing some hills became an option if the weather cooperated so as to be able to get a view. 

Settled almost windless conditions prevailed making the crossing from Chenega Island to Knight Island easy. The western shore of Knight Island proved to be very rocky with few places to land but we eventually found a fantastic little spot to camp, shelter for two tents, easy beach landing and heaps of driftwood for a fire. And NO bugs!

On to Naked Island to camp the next day then across to Lone Is and Perry Island for lunch and heading for Esther Passage. As the clouds had cleared slowly through the morning the distinctive 500m highest point of Perry Island beckoned as a fantastic viewpoint on such a beautiful clear afternoon. It looked far too scrubby from the campsites on the southeastern side of the Island so we continued around and into East Twin Bay were we found a fantastic little campsite from which open ridges lead towards the summit. In no time at all the kayak was above the high tide mark, the tent pitched and food hung in a tree. 

An hour and a half of pretty easy walking later the most amazing panoramic view of western Prince William Sound unfolded. From the western and northern horizon dominated by big snowy mountains, to the east and south and a labyrinth of Passages, Sounds and islands were laid out before us. We could see clearly our route of the last couple days up the eastern side of Knight Island, Naked Island and Long Island. 

    First part of the ascent

   Summit in sight

    Wild flowers

    Tarns and a gull rookery on top!

    A long way down!

It was remarkably reminiscent of the view of Bathurst Harbour and Port Davey from Mt Rugby, but of course of ginormous proportions compared with SW Tasmania. 'Mt Perry' as we called the nameless peak we'd climbed even looked a similar shape to Mt Rugby. The Western Arthurs would need to be in the 9000' to 10,000' range and covered in permanent snow and ice fields. 

We basked in the view and hot sun for over an hour before hunger took over from the wish to stay longer and we headed back to camp. It is always far easier finding a route up through the patches of scrub and rocky outcrops so we had recorded our ascent on the GPS which made the descent easy and a bit over an hour later we were in camp with a cuppa in hand and dinner on. We'd also feasted on bushes full of wild blueberries on the way! Wow, what an afternoon!

What made view from 'Mt Perry' particularly notable for us I think was that since leaving Ketchikan at the end of May the highest we've been above sea level with a view to the horizon in almost two months has been roughly 15m ASL on the ferry!

The short walk with Rory and Jan in Juneau would have taken us higher than the top deck of the ferry but it wasn't quite the same as firstly we drove up into the mountains and being in a very steep sided valley there were no grand vistas to the horizon. 

Sunday July 20th, the 22nd day since leaving Homer and almost a 800 paddled kms behind us since then, what a contrast. Heavy, heavy rain all night that abated to showers and heavy drizzle by early morning. Without a word we both turned over and snuggled back in our sleeping bags and dozed until the equal necessity for a pee and for a coffee forced Lynne out of the tent to put the tarp up, retrieve the food from the bear proof lockers (luxury, no buggering around hanging food at this 'developed' campsite) and put the stove on. It was a windy forecast in nearby Passage Canal but also a hopeful 'partly sunny' in the afternoon so it might stop raining. We scurried back to the shelter and warmth of the tent until lunchtime when there were substantial patches of blue sky showing. An hour later there was hardly a cloud in the sky, the sun was HOT and the four women teachers from Anchorage we'd shared the campsite with were in their bikini tops!

Not only could we dry our thermals but could rinse them in fresh water then dry them. Remembering we are after all on holiday now, we had a luxurious afternoon pootling about in the hot sun, catching up on repairs, airing sleeping bags, writing the blog, feastng on ripe salmon berries and blueberries and relaxing.