Overview. I
have wanted to kayak the west coast of Chichagof Island in Southeast Alaska,
from Sitka to the fishing village of Pelican, for more than 30 years. It is a very
remote, pristine, and beautiful wilderness traversed each year by just a few
hardy paddlers, and a number of fishing vessels. I
(Concurrently I was preparing an article for Alaska
Magazine on ocean acidification monitoring by the Southeast Alaska Tribal
Ocean Research consortium; I conducted interviews on the ferry, and in Stika,
Juneau and Haines. I omit discussion of that part of the journey.)
Saturday July 6: Anchorage. Tom and I spent the day
sorting gear and food, fixing the boat, printing maps, and loading up. I went
home after 11pm. Tom was working on stuff until 3am. Neither of us got much
sleep.
Sunday July 7: AnchorageàKluane. I returned
to the scene at 6:20am. Our vessel is a 20-foot, expedition double, Seascape
fiberglass kayak. Even empty the boat is almost too heavy for us. But we
Tom likes comfort camping: a four-person tent, a camp seat
and table for cooking, fishing gear, two binoculars, two phones and a camera, a
big book, an extra cook tent and two extra tarps, five extra lines, three
closed cell foam pads in addition to our two inflatable sleeping pads, three
bear barrels, four knives, six spoons, hiking boots as well as rubber boots, three
trekking poles, 18 cans of beer, plus chips, and a frame pack for carrying the
heaviest dry bags. He also likes redundancy for safety: extra food and clothes,
an extra stove, six lighters, extra gas for the car, two gallons of water in
jugs, two DeLorme InReach and a GPS. We also had a small ice chest for the car
with all the perishables from his fridge. I am
The drive to the border was familiar and gorgeous, despite
smoke from wildfires. We were both tired, but managed to stay alert
surprisingly well. In the Yukon the smoke was really bad: just east of Beaver
Creek, the fire was burning on both sides of the highway; the cars were in convoys
led by a pilot car. We made camp by a mudflat shoreline of Lake Kluane about
11pm.
Monday July 8: Kluaneàferry, enroute to Sitka.
Slept well and late. Sat on the beach to eat our cereal. Explored the creek mud
to check out the animal tracks: spectacular! See the pictures! The
We parked at the Haines ferry terminal to unload and repack:
it took about 3 hours. I drove the car back to town, delivered it to my friend
Gershon, and hitched back to the ferry in time to load the kayak. A deckhand
helped me while Tom sat and ate a bowl of cereal. The evening sun on the
mountains around Lutak Inlet and upper Lynn Canal was gorgeous! The setting sun
was a brilliant red-orange orb slipping behind the
We went for our beer at 9:30pm only to discover the
restaurant closed at 9: there was no beer to be had. We were extremely
disappointed: a beer at the end of the day is an important part of our ritual.
For dinner we heated some smoked salmon chowder in the café microwave and
enjoyed it with the last of our whole-grain bread and butter.
We bedded down in the solarium (a covered space on the top
deck where the backpackers sleep). I didn’t fall asleep. I got up again when we
stopped in Juneau about 1am. I took advantage of the cell service to call Mike
and wake him up: we hadn’t been able to connect for a couple days due to very
limited cell service on the road.
In Sitka, deck hands helped us carry the kayak out. Alison of Sitka Sound Ocean Adventures picked us up, took our kayak and gear to their storage area for the night, and dropped us back at the harbor. (Thank you, Alison, for the extra service!) After a series of travails which I won’t go into and with lots of assistance, I finally connected with Libby. We walked up the hill to her lovely, big, artistic house. It was a memorial to her beloved husband who had been killed in a landslide two years ago. We enjoyed tea and conversation.
After Tom’s nap, we went out for beer and burgers at a very good, harbor-side restaurant. The rockfish burger was excellent, with sides of kelp pickles and red algae salsa! We had a really
Tom went to bed while Libby and I walked through the forested Russian Cemetery to the ACC (grocery) store and talked, talked, talked. She is very busy with Citizens Climate Action League and loves hosting events and guests in her home. She is heading out Sunday for a trip down the Tatchenchini River (it flows from the Yukon to the Alsek and out to Icy Bay).
Wednesday July 10: Sitka. We worked on maps, weather
reports, tides and such for much of the day and a few errands, then late
afternoon we took a quick tour of the totem park.
Up by the cemetery I enjoyed the chorus of ravens, eagles,
and Swainson’s thrushes. The eagle squeaks in a voice better suited to a
frightened rodent than a commanding predator. The Swainson’s thrush trills in
an ascending flutter of notes. Tom enjoyed the exuberance of plants that we
don’t have in Anchorage. There were also an abundance of ripe salmon berries
and red huckleberries, and lots of Sitka roses. But the best part of Sitka was
the ravens: lots and lots of them. They own the town. They are not shy. One
strutted and swaggered across the road and made the cars wait. One sat low in
the tree two arms lengths from the sidewalk and made rude comments to the
passersby. A skinny juvenile male was rapping hip hop nonstop. A mature raven
spoke to me in a guttural, raucous voice, chortling. I imitated as best I
could. The patient teacher, bemused at my ineptitude, repeated again and again,
hoping I would eventually get the enunciation and intonation right. To no
avail.
We were hungry and Tom was too tired to walk to the bistro
so we stopped at the Westmark for beer and halibut burgers. It was
mediocre—except the halibut itself was quite good and the rockfish ceviche with
toasted pita was excellent! We glided home for our last shower and nightly call
to my sweetie.
Thursday July 11: SitkaàBaird Island. Early
up and out to meet Alison to pick up our kayak and gear and deliver it to the
harbor. Loaded it up in a small Carolina skiff well-appointed for the job.
Skipper John gave us a little guided tour talk on our way out of the harbor.
On the boat ride over, the low clouds turned to sea fog and
drizzle. In the end we couldn’t see much of the landforms at Khaz Head. We
huddled behind the windscreen, snuggling in our PFDs, transfixed by the wonders
gliding by us. Even the outer coast was calm today. It gradually lifted and by
midafternoon it was warm and dry and bright, but not quite sunny.
Lots of murres and marbled murrelets were waiting for lunch.
A humpback whale was feeding ten yards from our skiff. Captain John said to
himself, “What’s that rock doing there? That’s not right… Oh, its not a rock,
it’s a whale back!” He plowed through a thick tangle of bull kelp; Afterward he
had to back up to clear the prop.
Most of the shoreline was benches of roughly fractured
bedrock, interspersed with pockets of shale gravel beach, topped with a fringe
of alder and a thick, spruce forest. Coarse beach grass marked the highwater
line. The retreating tide revealed a carpet of amber rock algae. The islands
and sea rocks
This place is not remote: we passed a couple other small
craft and heard a couple small planes passing overhead. It was a three-hour ride to the head of the
Khaz Peninsula. Tom renegotiated the drop off point to a hunters’ camp on the
north side of Baird Island, accessed by a narrow channel. It sits next to a dry
channel which at high tide divides the island in half. The camp has a fire pit,
table, bench, and your choice of several fire grills in the fringe of woods,
plus a fire ring on the beach by the dry channel. There were rounds of cut dry
logs that Tom stacked into a pedestal for our stove and
The first night we cooked over the fire on the beach, enjoying the light and the small view. Dinner was miso soup; snail-shaped pasta with sausage, onion, and cabbage in tomato sauce; and banana pudding.
Friday July 12: Layover, exploring Slocum Inlet. I love
kayaking! I love the
We paddled across the channel to see Waterfall Cove. We
threaded through islands and rocks and tidal channels. We rescued a drowning
bumble bee: he was stuck and struggling on the surface of the water. I scooped
him up with my paddle and placed him on the black hatch cover. I imagine he
dried out and flew off: I wasn’t watching. A pod of mergansers with their regal
posture were out fishing. Tiny murralets, mostly in pairs, swam placidly until
they saw us, then either dove down or flew, never gaining more than a foot of
altitude over the surface; their wings are better adapted for swimming under
water than for flying. Tom found a dead one floating. He picked it up for
admiration and photo op. We saw murres too. We watched the sea otters as they
watched us. The foghorn out on the coast sounded far away, but we could hear
the surf. We have heard all three thrushes: Hermit, Swainson’s and varied. We listened
to a hermit thrush warbling his heart out, with that lyrically mystical
Bali-Hai echo voice. A magical world apart. Absolutely still.
Back on Baird I picked up a lot of beach trash, plastic
bottles and such, up the beach a bit where the tide traps them. We burned the
plastic bottles and bagged the shredded Styrofoam and broken glass and left it
in the camp for someone with a power boat to take. I started picking up shards of white ceramic plates, but quit, rationalizing they are artifacts, not trash.
We used the woods campfire for cooking dinner: egg-drop soup
and falafel.
Saturday July 13: Baird IslandàMaud
Point (Camp 2). It was a long paddle day. Our first pack of the
Sunday July 14: Layover at Maud Point. We spent an
hour putzing before breakfast and an hour
putzing after. It was afternoon by
the time we launched for a little day trip to explore the old mine ruins at the
head of the bay and fill up our water containers. Tom fished our dinner: fried
greenling with Spanish rice and coleslaw.
Monday July 15: Maud PointàDry Pass (Camp 3).
It was mostly sunny and windy all afternoon. We
had two open water crossings to
make. Light white caps, but with wind and currents in our favor, it all went
smoothly and quickly. Arrived in camp ahead of plan.
In the course of the day we saw a grizzly bear poking along the shore; a land otter scurry from the water into the woods; and a number of sea
otters. We saw our first king fisher, and one seagull; there have been surprisingly few. At Dry Pass I saw a deer on the shore: it stared at me and I stared at it for a long time, at close range maybe 25 feet; at last I sat down, so it moved on, looking back over its shoulder at me.
Dry Pass camp is in a very sheltered passage full of islets—13 in the immediate vicinity—a short walk from the outer coast. We pitched the tent on an almost level shoulder of a small point, where the beach weed almost covered the rocks, backed up to some spruce
trees. Our kitchen and campfire were at high tide level just west of the point, next to the mud flats
where we pulled up the kayak. We walked the bear trail through the woods to the pass and out to view the point and the surf line through the sea rocks at the end of the pass. It was an enchanting view of the evening sun setting over the sea.
Dinner: bean and veggie tacos and tortilla soup.
In the course of the day we saw a grizzly bear poking along the shore; a land otter scurry from the water into the woods; and a number of sea
Dry Pass camp is in a very sheltered passage full of islets—13 in the immediate vicinity—a short walk from the outer coast. We pitched the tent on an almost level shoulder of a small point, where the beach weed almost covered the rocks, backed up to some spruce
Dinner: bean and veggie tacos and tortilla soup.
Tuesday July 16: Layover at Dry Pass. Dry Pass is not
dry! Wind and rain and leaks in the tent. Tom put up a tarp for cooking so we
got a hot drink and bagel about 1pm; otherwise we are hunkered down in the tent
writing and listening to Sapiens: hooray for audio books!
I admire Tom’s experience, skills and judgement. I planned
the macro logistics for the trip, but rely on him for route planning and
navigation. And boat and tent repairs. Unloading the boat on day one John
lifted the boat by the rudder base instead of the handle and broke it. That is
exactly the part Tom replaced—with an old part from another boat—before we
came. Tom was able to jury-rig a repair with baling wire and pliers. Yesterday
(Monday) beaching the boat he bumped the rudder and broke it again. It’ll be a
simple repair. He is also constantly adjusting the twelve lines on the
tent—four that come with it and eight that he has added, so it is anchored for
wind like a mountain tent. Futzing with gear is his hobby. He’s constantly
looking at it and thinking how it could be improved (short of buying anything
new). He believes in redundancy for safety. If he ran out of gas once, he
carries an extra gallon ever after. If he ran out of food once on a trip with
multiple day weather delays, he packs multiple days’ worth of extra food ever
after.
Tom measures and rations everything. Tom: “How much granola
shall I take?” Sharman: “Take as much as you want.” Tom: “How much did you
plan?” Sharman: “I didn’t measure it out. If we run out, we’ll eat oatmeal. Or
biscotti and Nutella. Or granola bars. Or wassa and cheese. Or nuts and
chocolate. Or cornbread stuffing.” Tom: “I’ll take just one Roca.” Sharman:
Take more if you want. How many are left? We have only five days more. No point
in letting the good stuff be left over. We still have three other kinds of
chocolate too: The Dove darks, the bark with dried fruit, and the dark bar from
Spain. Not to mention Nutella and hot chocolate.” He doesn’t like sharing his
tea or beer because he brought just enough. He calculated 2oz of nuts per day
but hasn’t been eating that much.
I also admire his resourcefulness, adaptability and
resilience. He is 84. He has had multiple hip, knee and ankle surgeries, and
still has trouble and limitations with all of them. He has some back trouble
too and takes care to not injure his disk. He gets sciatica and paddlers’
elbow. But he manages his limitations very skillfully. He hikes with two
trekking poles with cane handles. He sits on a seat instead of the ground. He
uses the knee that bends in lieu of the one that doesn’t. He plans shorter days
and takes rests. But he still is agile enough to shoe-horn himself into a
loaded kayak. And he goes. And goes. And goes.
Even empty the expedition double is heavy and at the limit
of our strength to lift and carry it. Tom avoids carrying it at all. He
arranges to launch and beach it at high tide or arranges “suspender” mooring to
keep it afloat. We look for the softest grass or mud to drag it. And we have learned
to make a ladder-like ramp of driftwood to slide it over the rocks.
Just the two of us works pretty well. I let him self-pace
and I follow suit. His running commentary on the plants and animals he sees is
always interesting. I do extra chores and carrying. When we are out with a
larger group the timeline is the group schedule, and I get impatient with Tom
talking and putzing with gear; but just the two of us works fine. We are great
paddling partners and outdoor buddies and we both immensely appreciate that.
Wednesday July 17: Dry PassàWhite Sulphur. We
had a leisurely morning waiting for the tide to come up to make the launch and
paddling the pass easier. The rain stopped early, followed by a bit of
intermittent drizzle, but it was mostly bright and dry enough to solar charge
my phone and stage things on the beach. We ate pancakes and took a walk to the pass.
Paddling out Dry Pass, the water at the mouth was confused
waves with breakers on either side. The three-mile crossing was open to the
ocean with big swells topped with chop; it was fine, but anything worse would have been too much for
comfort. It was difficult to pick out the entrance to our passage, but Tom got
it spot on. We paddled up the placid arm around twists and turns to the head
where the trail to White Sulphur Springs is marked and maintained. We chose a
camp site—not a
very good one, as it was marshy and inaccessible at high tide,
but it was all there was. In retrospect, we should have paddled around the head
and put in at the kayaker’s camp, but we had no information about the beach
there. John told us about West Arm, the most protected moorage that boaters
use. Now we will have to back-track and paddle the outside around the head, and
we will have to wait for the tide to do it, as the extra-low tide in the
morning leaves our boat high and dry.
We walked the one-mile boardwalk trail to the hot springs. The
forest was beautiful! I love the Southeast Alaska ecosystem: mixed Sitka spruce, hemlock, cedar forest, muskeg with saw grass and skunk cabbage, a pond covered with lily pads, and a few blue and salmon berries. We enjoyed occasional glimpses of the stony coast through the trees.
We visited with the cabin weekenders. They were originally from Pelican, now living in Juneau for work. They have a two-year-old daughter and a dog. They reserve the cabin every year, six months in advance to the day and hour. The cabin is new and very nice, with bunks, a table, a wood stove, and even a library of books. Tom is mad that the forest service tears down the old cabins instead of just maintaining the old and building a new one a little ways away to double the capacity. Boards from the old cabin were use for the boardwalk: we could see the names carved in them.
We walked the one-mile boardwalk trail to the hot springs. The
We visited with the cabin weekenders. They were originally from Pelican, now living in Juneau for work. They have a two-year-old daughter and a dog. They reserve the cabin every year, six months in advance to the day and hour. The cabin is new and very nice, with bunks, a table, a wood stove, and even a library of books. Tom is mad that the forest service tears down the old cabins instead of just maintaining the old and building a new one a little ways away to double the capacity. Boards from the old cabin were use for the boardwalk: we could see the names carved in them.
We then walked up to the kayakers’ campground and visited
with Dan Kiley. He is from Berkeley and has been kayaking in Southeast for 19
summers. He works for REI, gives slideshows and talks and advocates for
wilderness. He had too much fish and gave us a nice, fresh, sockeye salmon
steak.
We returned to the well-appointed bath house. We enjoyed the hot, sulfurous water as well as the view out the large, open window. A fisherman and his kids and small dogs anchored out and came in by Zodiak. They started in the outdoor pool and only entered the bathhouse after we were done. (We were naked; they had suits.) He is from Seattle and has been commercial fishing up here his whole life, starting in childhood. He was heading out to the Fairweather grounds to fish halibut.
We returned to the well-appointed bath house. We enjoyed the hot, sulfurous water as well as the view out the large, open window. A fisherman and his kids and small dogs anchored out and came in by Zodiak. They started in the outdoor pool and only entered the bathhouse after we were done. (We were naked; they had suits.) He is from Seattle and has been commercial fishing up here his whole life, starting in childhood. He was heading out to the Fairweather grounds to fish halibut.
Thursday July 18: Layover at White Sulphur. It was
rainy and stormy most of the day. Spent the
Friday July 19: White SulphuràBohemia. Our paddle started just after noon (the tide
and I were ready an hour earlier). We had a long
outside crossing on ocean
swell and chop and confused bounce-back near the reefs. We couldn’t find a safe
pass between the rocks, so had to paddle the long way around the outermost
point of the rocks.
Then a long bay, and finally an entrance to Lisianski
Strait. It took miles for the swell to subside. We were paddling with the tide
and wind so it went fast. While paddling we saw two humpback whales, two harbor
porpoises, more than a dozen sea otters, and one sea lion.
The strait is frequented by fishing vessels and recreational
power boats. It is gorgeous: the steep ridges lining it are glacier-scoured sedimentary
bedrock, bald on top, with long spikey green whiskers of spruce and a scraggly
pubic fringe of alder at the shoreline. Waterfalls gush down and make a
continuous racket. Shreds of clouds float along and get caught on the summits.
We finally stopped at Esther Island for an overdue snack
break. We took another break at the mouth of Stag Bay. We reached Bohemia about 8pm. Didn’t settle into bed until midnight. Glad we didn’t have to deal with a wet tent! Bohemia has a substantial dock that fishermen use and a 3-sided cabin provided by the USFS, complete with a Jotül wood stove and a big supply of fire wood. Refuge!
Easy!
The paddle to Pelican was calm and easy, going with the tide, but rainy, which I wasn’t dressed for: it was dry when we packed. So I got cold and wet. We tied up at the dock and walked up and down the boardwalk, chatting with whomever, looking for a dry place to sleep. After a couple hours of this, people started initiating conversations saying, “Are you the kayakers?” Apparently, we (Tom) were famous for being the oldest paddlers ever seen in these parts. Everyone was really nice
Sunday July 21: PelicanàJuneau. We walked
around looking for a breakfast of eggs and toast and
ideas for how to deal with
the kayak during our two days in Juneau. We never found any breakfast—had to
cook our own oatmeal—but the harbor master gave us a tip about the kayak:
J&S Shipping would bring three truckloads of groceries and supplies to
Pelican on the ferry and would back-haul the kayak to Juneau. Yes! They arrived
and agreed. Done!
Some other kayakers helped us carry our boat and gear up
from the water’s edge to load. We visited with them on the ferry. They are
older like us, very experienced, and paddle in Southeast every year. This year
they paddled Juneau to Pelican.
The cruise was beautiful, down Lisianski Strait to Icy
Strait and across to Gustavus, arriving about midnight. Lisianski was narrow
and windy; Icy Strait was wide open and calm. All the ridges were steep and
alluring; we were mesmerized. Gustavus was flat with lots of boats anchored
out. We napped a little in the observation lounge. We arrived in Juneau at
1:30am and took a taxi to town. Kay and Paul had left a key in the mailbox.
Monday July 22: Juneau. Kay made us a nice breakfast
of eggs and potatoes and cherries. We
shuffled and dried gear all morning and
went for a walk in the afternoon. In the evening we took Kay and Paul out to
the Amalga gin distillery and then to dinner.
Tuesday July 23: Juneau. Passed the day with my
interviews and Tom’s old friends. In the evening we dined with his friends Ron
and Barb down at the wharf. He was an old climbing buddy and field assistant to
Tom and she is a retired reference librarian for the City and Borough of
Juneau. Delightful and interesting people. Got back home after 10, and still
had to pack up and load the car.
Wednesday 7/24: JuneauàHaines highway. We
arose early and Paul drove us to the ferry terminal by 7. The Jerues delivered
our kayak. Once again a deck hand helped us load it on the ferry. Everything
went smoothly except the ferry was an hour and 45 minutes late. Maybe the delay
had something to do with the ferry worker strike which we later learned shut
down the whole system just after we arrived in Haines. Many passengers
throughout Southeast were stranded. We were very lucky!
The ferry was jam-packed full, delivering passengers to
Haines for the state fair. It was quite pleasant on deck with warm sun and a
light, tail wind breeze. The scenery was gorgeous, including a rainbow. The
fjord-margin to the east had bowl-shaped hanging glaciers with truncated
bottoms ending in sharp v-shaped ravines with gushing grey and white falls; the
flanks were thick with conifers; wisps of clouds shrouded then revealed crags
and gullies. The Chilkat mountains to the west featured black pinnacles, mighty
glaciers, and snowy fingers. The closer summits were sinewy, muscular and
naked, with G-stings of green covering their nether regions. We are in love!
Off-loading in Haines took a while. I waited and waited for
a deck hand to help with the kayak but they were prioritizing unloading trucks.
I finally asked another kayaker to help. Gershon had left our car in the
parking lot for us. We enjoyed a beer with Gershon and a primo view of the
Chilkats from the Haines Brewery before heading up the highway.
The Haines highway follows the broad, braided Chilkat River.
This is the famous gathering place for thousands of eagles each fall, feasting
on the last salmon run. Our goal was to cross the border and camp up on Haines
Pass, but it was too windy. We continued to a more protected valley where we slept
in the car on a gravel side road down by a river.
Thursday July 25: Haines highwayàRichardson
highway. The valley was gorgeous, looking up at the magnificent mountains.
Some have multi-colored skirts of black, red and grey shales with a few
strings
of white snow, and round on top. The most dramatic one has a precise vertical
line between bright red and black scree. Other mountains are up-ended
sedimentary layers, producing vertical ribbing and craggy ridges. The evening
light last night and the morning light today made them extra luminous, with the
stratigraphy in sharp relief. There are also higher peaks with rock glaciers or
remnant ice glaciers. The forests here are mixed spruce, aspen and birch. The
fireweed in the wide highway right of way are in full bloom. Last evening there
were lumpy clouds and a couple showers which only made the light more dramatic.
Today is clear and bright and windy. Much prettier than two weeks ago when it
was all obscured by smoke.
We took our time to enjoy the road trip through the Yukon.
We stopped for a look-see, break and
brunch at Lake Kathleen—Tom’s daughter’s
name. We made three more stops for lunch, sightseeing and visitor information on
our way to the border crossing at Beaver Creek. Dinner at Fast Eddy’s in Tok
was great, but we skipped the ritual beer: we still had to drive. A half hour
further on we found a short side road by a muddy flooding river to car camp. A
highlight was admiring the designs created by leaf miners.
Friday July 26: Richardson highwayàAnchorage.
Our last morning of the trip: we took the time to sit outside, enjoy the river,
and cook one final oatmeal breakfast before the long drive into Anchorage. Arriving
at Tom’s, neighbors helped us unload the kayak and deliver it to the back yard.
We unloaded and sorted the gear, bid each other good night and good trip, and I
drove alone the final leg. A warm shower and a comfy bed awaited me.
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