A Southeast Sojourn, Part 2

After Baranof Island, an Alaskan voyage brings more beauty, a few bears, and stories to tell.

Issue 142: Jan/Feb 2022

As we walk down the main pier in Craig Harbor, our family’s dock cart is heavily loaded with provisions and making a thudding clunk-clunk-clunk while passing over the well-worn boards. My wife, Jill, carries an armload of groceries next to me, and our two boys, ages 4 and 6, totter behind while looking down into the water or up at hulking fishing seiners. The only sailboat in this tiny Alaskan harbor, our 1984 Grand Soleil 39 Yahtzee, sits far out at the end and appears poised to push away from land.

It’s mid-August, and another summer of cruising in Alaska, our third, is coming to a close. Unlike our previous two, though, we’re getting ready to head south instead of gearing up for the long, dark winter ahead. In 24 hours we’ll toss Yahtzee’s docklines aboard, weave our way into the Pacific Ocean, and make a course nonstop for San Francisco, some 1,300 miles distant.

That evening, as we sit in the cockpit talking through the plan for the next day and the voyage ahead, our family’s conversation turns reflective. Reminiscing about our journey to Southeast Alaska in 2017, then sailing to Kodiak Island, Prince William Sound, the Kenai Peninsula, and finally, back to Southeast this summer (2019) has been nothing short of magical, and it is gratifying to recall so many wonderful memories.

Truly, Alaska is like no place on earth, and we feel exceedingly fortunate to have experienced so much of it. The past few weeks of sailing through gorgeous islands and fjords have perfectly culminated our time here. It’s only appropriate then, that we keep with a family tradition when leaving somewhere, and each person picks a favorite moment from our recent adventures to share.

Be Bear-y Careful

Jill kicks off story time with a tale from Trocadero Bay, Prince of Wales Island. But first, some context is required. At 35,138 square miles, Southeast Alaska is an immense cruising ground that offers extensive options for adventurous sailors. Due to its size, you simply can’t see it all in one season—a fact we were well aware of when we arrived in spring 2017. Among the areas of Southeast that remained on our list of must-see places were the many islands and bays in the southern portion of Chatham Strait and near the town of Craig, which sits on the southwestern side of Prince of Wales Island.

Prince of Wales, along with its northern neighbors Kuiu, Kupreanof, Baranof, Chichagof, and Admiralty islands, is part of the Alexander Archipelago and is accentuated with dense forests of tall conifers, winding fjords, and steep-sided mountains. The fourth-largest island in the United States, Prince of Wales boasts a population of 6,000 hearty Alaskans and, some say, just as many black bears. Which makes a close encounter or distant sighting very likely.

While we’ve safely encountered brown bears on Baranof several times, we had heard how numerous their black bear cousins were throughout Prince of Wales. In Trocadero Bay, just south of Craig, we found an isolated cove to anchor Yahtzee with no structures or other boats nearby. The only sign of human activity was an old, overgrown logging road that had basically turned into a hiking trail. Armed with our trusty bear spray and creating lots of noise, we made for shore and hiked the road for several miles, winding through spruce forests and grassy meadows. Along the way, we came across several piles of bear scat that, while not alarming, did serve as a reminder that we were sharing the island with them.

Then, while sitting in the cockpit shortly after returning to the boat, we watched as a medium-sized black bear ambled down the shoreline flipping rocks, nosing through the grass, examining stumps, and even sitting and staring out at the water for several minutes. It was mealtime, and watching the bear forage for food was mesmerizing. Seeing bears from the boat is, of course, our preferred viewing platform, and Jill shares how wondrous and awe-inspiring it was to watch this bear for so long in its natural habit. “A National Geographic type experience,” she remarks. Time and again, those moments seem to happen throughout Alaska.

Smooth Sailing

When my turn at the story-telling helm comes, I can’t pick a singular moment or place, but rather an overall theme of traveling slowly and enjoying each other’s company, stunning anchorages, smooth sailing, and good weather. In particular, I recall a weeklong stretch of island-hopping that began with several days of beautiful sailing down Chatham Strait towards Kuiu, Coronation, and Warren islands.

I remember unfurling Yahtzee’s white code zero with a snap and, while trimming in, feeling all 40 feet of her gently accelerate in the fresh breeze. The autopilot steered diligently southward and the mountains on Baranof Island slowly got smaller behind us. We’d spent the better part of a month cruising around Baranof (see “Southest Sojourn, Part One,” November/December 2021) and were excited to be visiting some new places.

Our first stop was on the east side of the strait at the Bay of Pillars on Kuiu Island, a mere 15-mile hop, so we weren’t in a hurry. Lazily sailing at 4 to 5 knots, Jill and the boys, Porter and Magnus, lounged on the side deck and I sat back, kicking my feet up and taking in the scene. Within a couple hours, the entrance to the bay became visible, and we zigzagged through tiny islets before settling into a quiet nook to drop anchor.

Little did we realize at the time, but this became our routine for the next couple weeks: Sail a short hop to a new place, find a secluded spot to set our hook and explore, and enjoy each other’s company and our remaining days in Alaska.

Besides spotting a few commercial fishing vessels on the horizon during this stretch, we didn’t come across another boat for several days and were unsurprised to find empty and unspoiled anchorages at Gedney Harbor and breathtaking Coronation Island. Nor were we shocked when we entered the small bay on the east side of Warren Island and found it vacant. After making a couple tight circles to check our depth and swing room, I shifted into reverse and Jill paid out the anchor and chain into impossibly clear water. The boys were on the bow, too, assessing our newest anchorage and plotting their shoreside adventures on what looked to be a stunning sand beach.

The One that Got Away

While I explain the feelings of pulling into what ended up being one of our family’s favorite anchorages in all of Alaska, 6-year-old Porter throws his hands in the air and says, “You had to bring it up!” Clearly, it’s his turn to spin a tale.

By this point, we’d all heard this story several times, but nobody stops him from regaling us with his fishing exploits. He had become quite a fisherman over the past year or so, and his confidence and skill in catching dinner for us was burgeoning. In Warren Cove, Porter set out in the dinghy, rowing towards the beach and several sizable schools of coho salmon.

Once in place, he explains, “It was sunny, and I could see shadows on the bottom, so I rowed towards them slowly. I casted near the shadows a few times and got nothing. Then I casted in front of the shadow and while reeling it in, I felt a hit!”

Gathering excitement, standing now and waving his hands in the air, he continues, “I was reeling it in and while bringing it up to the side of the dinghy, which is rubber, I grabbed it and got it into the boat near the seat. Then it flopped, the hook came out of its mouth, and it bounced off the side and into the water! No!”

Sitting back down, he laments the unfortunate outcome. “I will never forget that. It was huge!” he says while spreading his arms wide. “Wow, that was so…so sad.”

I remember him coming back to Yahtzee that day and his facial expression looked absolutely devastated. This was his first solo fishing excursion and he’d had one in the boat, only to lose it. I was crushed for him. Wanting to help, I jumped in the dinghy and we went back to his honey hole. I rowed and he casted from the bow and after about 30 minutes of trying, he had another one on the line. This time, he landed it. And while devouring the delicious salmon that night, he mourned the one that got away.

Sweet Rewards

Moving on from the latest telling of the lost salmon story, Magnus is the last one up. At four years old, I know his story is going to be something more immediate. That’s his personality. And I’m not disappointed. His story was from a chance encounter earlier in the day.

Even though space is at a premium on a cruising sailboat, we keep scooters and helmets aboard for the boys so they can roll around whatever port we happen to be in. In Craig, there’s a hill that goes up from the marina to the grocery store, and they loved going to the top and then riding down as fast as they could. On one of their rides down, a police officer was coming up the two-lane road and made a U-turn when he saw the boys. When he met us at the bottom of the hill, none of us was quite sure what he was going to say.

Then, much to our surprise, he pulled two coupons out of his vest pocket and handed one to each boy. “I pulled you over,” he said with a smile, “because I see that you’re wearing your helmets. Nice job. Enjoy your ice cream.”

Porter and Magnus stood on the sidewalk in stunned silence before saying thank you, and Jill and I laughed and told the officer we appreciated the gesture as he got in his cruiser and pulled away with a hearty wave. It was yet another positive experience in small-town Alaska.

Magnus’ telling of the story concludes with the most memorable part being eating the ice cream, his favorite flavor that day, chocolate. The moment is perfectly sweet.

Stories and memories like these are part of what makes cruising on a sailboat so intensely rewarding—especially as a young family. Our summer in Southeast Alaska had been amazingly memorable, and we knew it. If there ever was a year to be wandering this incredible place by boat, it was certainly this one.

And though it’s hard to pull ourselves away, we’re content with moving on because we know that the best sailing destinations are like that. Mentally and physically, they pull you back time and again. Thus, it’s not a matter of if we’ll return, but when.

I had that in the back of my mind while untying the docklines in Craig early the next morning, while also thinking about the long voyage ahead. The sunshine of days before had given way to overcast skies and wisps of low clouds settled in over the islands. A few hours later, motoring over a glass-calm sea out of Southeast Alaska, the open ocean and long horizon in front called.

Once we were clear of land, the wind promptly filled in from the west, and with a hoot and holler from the crew, Yahtzee leaned to port, and off we sailed with so many wonderful memories trailing in our wake.

Good Old Boat Editor Andy Cross is exploring the western Pacific coastline, from Alaska to Panama, with his family aboard Yahtzee, their 1984 Grand Soleil 39.

 

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