"Tuffy" Leaves Alaska

Whales, Bears and More Fog

Article by John Hughes

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Our last trip report had us lamenting only one more morning’s soak before casting off from Branoff Hot Springs, our boardwalk Shrangri-la, a week ago now. Ahh, but there’s a lot of water to cover up here and as we pulled out of the cove a humpback surfaced right next to me—going the other way into the cove he paid me no heed. He was a nuclear sub, breaking surface to have a look and then slipping back into the depths. Always impressive, but when they are really close, you realize just how immense they are.

Crossing Chatham Strait provided a teaser reminder of the swells we’d be meeting up with again crossing Dixon Entrance back into British Columbia. The ocean was over 50 miles away, yet these mounds of water roll in with the regularity of long slow breaths. It boggles the mind to ponder how they can cover that much distance, on a relatively calm day, and maintain their integrity and force.

Multiple levels of fog formed as we rounded the south end of Admiralty Island, layer upon layer of moisture laden horizontal clouds, arched low on the horizon they rose and fell in soft rounded shapes, mimicking the swells under them, the hills around them and even the humpbacks below them. In Alaska you learn that gray is not the lack of color, rather it is a spectrum of colors, blending and changing always into a canvas that is alive. Occasionally that canvas will wrap right around us and I’ll snug up with Snow Goose and power up the radar. But just as quickly it will then dissipate into streaks of eerie light infused rain drops and soon we’ll have a horizon again.

Pulling into the bay that is home to Kake we continued on by the town into a shallowing cove network dotted with rocky islands—all with conifer coats and hats. Cedar, fir and hemlock adorned their shoulders, backs and heads. We anchored alongside one such island that possessed a great view of the bear Bob promised to introduce me to in the morning but, alas, she had evidently moved on to new digs in the two years since they last met. Bears, both coastal brown bears and black, are the only animals whose relative absence has surprised me on this trip. We have seen a few, from long distances, but my Broughton experience six or seven years ago and a short trip in these waters two years ago had my expectations higher for more frequent sightings. Of course we’re not done yet, the berries have just ripened, the salmon runs are picking up, and our plan after visiting Wrangell for the 4th is to cruise into Anan Bear Preserve—so hope springs eternal.

It was indeed a quiet and restful night deep in that shallow cove, the rising sun finally penetrating the morning’s low clouds to bring another calm day with a still sea. Aside from the low clouds and fog circulating the waters of Frederick Sound, or maybe because of them, it was another perfect traveling day with the water surface as smooth as glass. Like a ghost wanting attention, a small outboard cuddy cabin materialized out of the fog, just floating around aimlessly with a small family aboard. I altered course a little to swing by close enough to determine their status when right behind them I saw the massive back of a huge humpback rise and fall back under the surface. Then another, and another… and another. Then a half dozen tails. I just shut down the power, knowing now why that little boat was bobbing around out in the middle of nowhere, and hoped for a good show. We got one.

Visualize the water being completely smooth, with wisps of fog circling about… Snow Goose and the other boat silently coming into and out of focus in the drifting clouds… and, then, probably 30 yards out, the surface starts to misbehave. First it goes totally flat, somehow smoother than smooth, and then a large circle begins to take shape, made sharper now by a distinct outline to that circle and some very disturbed water within it. I had seen bubble feeding before down in Monterey Bay, but I still struggled to wonder what was happening because this was somehow different. It was spookier, like some alien ship was emerging but, yes, those were bubbles and suddenly whales were surfacing all around that perimeter and within it. In Monterey the whales came up vertically, emerging about a third of their body’s length in that perfect circle with their mouths open and waterfalls cascading from their baleen traps—but here a couple of large whales were carving their way around the circle with their huge fins elevated out of the water. Not slapping them, as they often do, but seemingly steering and containing this mass of prey and predators. Within the circle other humpbacks were surfacing and dropping again beneath the surface, not in unison and not vertically but rather as if swimming through the bait ball. Then, as one, they began to move, rising through the surface in this confined, yet now moving, circle… until finally they showed their tails again and disappeared. There were at least a dozen whales involved in this group feeding event and just witnessing it so close was exhilarating. Reluctantly (Petersburg wasn’t getting any closer) we finally headed off and saw many more solo whales spouting their way about and several small groups of dolphins on this transit.

Petersburg was still raining (had it rained the whole time we were north?), and we were seriously bummed to learn that the awesome pizza place we discovered on our last pass through was closed on Sunday and Mondays (the two nights we’d be here). Oh well, I didn’t have to go to the hospital this time (finally knocked that sinus bug) and we’d soon be into clean clothes with our boats and bodies rested and re-provisioned. I noticed a transition happening to me though. I used to really look forward to the break coming into a city provided. Now, I find I want to get my city business done and get back out on the water to look, see, feel and explore.

Our second transit through Wrangell Narrows went without a hitch. We entered in hopes of timing the strange current fluctuation perfectly (if you remember the currents oppose each other at opposite ends and meet in the middle) and, while we did enter with a favorable current, it turned against us a little early, but not strongly. At the halfway point its direction turned as expected so we completed the route with favorable help from the water itself. As we approached the narrowest part we noticed a tug pulling a large barge loaded to the sky with containers (and vehicles on top of them). He was moving along pretty good, and who knows what the current was doing to him, so Snow Goose and Tuffy pulled off outside the channel in about 25 - 30’ of water. We just bobbed around in neutral while the tug stayed channel centered with it’s load swinging where it wanted. Not exactly as exhilarating as watching humpbacks bubble feeding, but a little excitement to break up the day.

On entering Sumner Strait we were very pleased to find it calm with no wind or waves to speak of. Small showers were still coming and going, but just enough to wash the boats without causing trouble. As we crossed the strait to approach Wrangell the water turned very milky, thick as I’ve seen, from the melting glacier(s) in the mountains around it. Le Conte Bay Glacier is the big one, the southernmost tidewater glacier in Southeast Alaska. The approach into Le Conte gets shallow and tricky, and strewn with icebergs, so probably best to book a tour if you want to get into the face of this one. I hope by now you realize that shallow spots and icebergs don’t scare off Tuffy and Snow Goose, but the word is, “book a tour,” so you got to respect local knowledge.

Coming into Wrangell I was disappointed to see that the whole guest dock was filled in Reliance Harbor. But then I thought I saw some space between several boats all in a line… and doing the math, I thought Tuffy could just fit. I pulled alongside a unique boat, the style of which I had seen in New Zealand. “Hey, Hi! Is your boat from Australia or NZ?”

“She’s from New Zealand, you have a good eye”, said her skipper.

"Those are great, I’ll bet she handles the haystacks out there great,” I replied.

“Yes Sir, for her size she can’t be beat in the soup!”

Now it was time to get down to business… so in my sweetest voice, “Could I ask a huge favor from you. Can you snug up that little duck boat to you guys and then snug up the Hewescraft to it? That would give me just enough room to squeeze in under that sailboat’s bowsprit and then my buddy could raft to the outside of me.”

“Uh… I don’t want to get into trouble, and I’m not very good with knots,” he replied.

“I got the okay to move things around, with agreement, as the harbor master was leaving. And I’ll take care of checking all the knots and securing all the repositioning.”

How could he resist that.

“Uh, ok I’ll give it a try.” He did, and I did, and Bob did… and the next night we were sharing the fireworks display from the best seat in Wrangell at the end of that dock. Meant to be!

Bob and I made the decision, once in Wrangell, that since the fireworks display (the best in Southeast Alaska) was going to be the night of the 3rd, and the “Anything That Floats That’s Not A Boat” race was the afternoon of the 3rd, that we would take advantage of a little known fact. The first day of “permit required” for Anan Bear Preserve is July 5th. This is about the time the salmon run for the Anan River starts, which is the trigger for the bears to come on in for some high protein body building… but of course it varies and is unreliable. I spent a fair amount of time talking to the guys (and gals) that run the little aluminum jet tour boats from Wrangell and they were all telling me the same thing. The fish have moved into the lagoon, a few are heading up, and the bears are just starting to come in.

The route to Anan is down a skinny passage where supposedly, like Wrangle Narrows, the tides meet and currents reverse in the middle. We made the decision that we would leave early despite the current predictions so we could get to Anan, meet the bears, and maybe make it further on down the road. We entered on a flood tide and were pushed along at great speeds. At the middle, where it was suppose to reverse, we kept getting pushed. In fact, we were pushed with favorable current all the way down to the end of Blake Channel. What a pleasant surprise but another example of how our “Navionics” based information source is not always right on. Usually it is, it’s a great program/app, but we are finding some discrepancies up here.

Anan Preserve is perhaps the only place that the coastal brown bear (Grizzly) and the black bear share habitat. I also asked all these guides if they were working on the 4th… “Nope, that’s like a religious holiday around here!” We decided, with an excellent firework display (and a heck of an “If It Floats” race) behind us, and with July 4th the last “un-permitted” day for Anan entry (the 5th would have guides and float planes and everybody with a permit zooming in) that we would spend America’s Birthday celebrating two species of bears, ones that normally disagree, enjoying the bounty our great country has to offer (that’s as close to politics as Josh will let me get)… and guess what—we were the only ones there! Well, us and five bears and two rangers (but they stayed in their float house, the rangers, not the bears). It was spectacular. The only ones there!

We entered into the cove and there was a floating dock behind the ranger’s floating home that we’d been told we could tie to if space was available. As I approached the ranger house I hailed them on 16 and then saw one come out on his front porch (deck?). Throttling back I retired to the cockpit and had a conversation. Yes, no permit required today, yes you can tie to the floating dock, yes we have bear spray and know to stay close, to look big, to take no food, to make noise, to not run, to use spray only if under a charge and then only when close. “You guys are good to go!”

At first it looked like a bust, but then “Oh, there’s one right down there.” And then it was, “look, there’s another one tucked right under that rock ledge by that eddy pool”. Then, “look, here comes another one to cross the creek from that meadow.” Soon there were five, and I’m certain there were more around just awaiting that sweet smell of salmon working their way upstream. We did see fish trying to make their way up the cascade… most of the ones I saw were flailing there way back down having missed the last hurdle. The bears positioned themselves at all points… looking like they were maybe at a favorite spot that had served them well in year’s past.

They have just improved the lookout deck and it’s incredible! A big level up high (where the path ends up) has locking firearm cabinets, restrooms and is surrounded by a fence that I suppose would keep a bear out (although I’m not sure about an angry Grizzly). One big black bear came walking up the hill and gave me a good stare from about 15 feet away. I vote for bigger fences! New is a stainless steel spiral staircase (caged as well) that drops down to another couple of levels, the bottom one of which is pretty much at river height, nose to nose with the bear across the creek. There is a dingy docking area (actually a rock ledge with a few flat spots to balance a kayak or dinghy and some steps leading up) about a half mile from the lookout platform. Bears have been known to flirt with the dinghies when there’s more around, just so you know. Bob and I elected to add another half mile to the woods hike and dinghies into the Forest Service cabin, very nice, available for rent. Of course that meant another half mile (a mile if you count out and back) through bear country on boardwalks littered with “sign” (because not even a bear would walk through that other terrain by choice). “Hey Bear.” “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” “She’ll be coming round the mountain…” Lots of noise, and we didn’t encounter a bear outside the lookout area and we were fine with that. We did have our spray.

I hope that’s not too much information on the bears… but if you are up this way, and it’s around or after the 4th of July, I strongly recommend the Anan Bear Preserve as a stop. It’s a rare treasure.

Because we’d left early, we were back at the boat before 2:00PM. I set a course to Meyer Chuck, where we had stayed when northbound and which is a lovely anchorage as long as you avoid the rock, somewhat erroneously marked on the charts, in the middle of the entrance. It was another 33 miles, but the days are still long up here. Ernst Sound was a dream, smooth and great cruising. We made it to Meyer’s Chuck covering 63 nautical miles in our southbound journey and saw an incredible wildlife preserve in the middle. Does it get any better?

From Meyer’s Chuck it was another slog down Clarence Strait. We had a stiff following wind from the northwest and sizable waves pushing us along. I was usually surfing at between 7 an 8 knots so the hands were active on the wheel and the mind tuned to any lightening on the rudder face so I could preemptively reposition its angle and avoid an oversteer. I had a group of humpbacks escorting me down the peninsula on the east side of Clarence Strait. Their spouts kept me company, but I was never close enough to feel I’d joined the family.

After crossing Behm Channel, a horseshoe route that makes up Misty Fjords (another time), I came into Tongass Narrows the route into Ketchikan, with a massive cruise ship on my port side. He was a long way away… but I followed his wake two miles across Clarence Strait, looking like a set of three or four huge curling and breaking tidal waves, riding atop every other wave in contention and seeing vessel after vessel deal, mostly unsuccessfully, with this moment of terror. I expected the wake to diminish in size by the time it got to me, but it did not and, so, as reckoning approached I turned 110 degrees to port and basically stopped Tuffy to a stall, just a little forward momentum to keep her straight into those monsters, and hoped as a cork I’d be OK. It worked pretty well, just had to pick up a few things, but no damage. There ought to be a law!

Our plan here in Ketchikan changed today. There was a northwest wind, which we prefer for our direction of travel, but it was too strong and too gusty for the waters we need to travel (Clarence Strait again). We’re also looking for an opportunity to sneak across Dixon Entrance again, one of the several seriously exposed passages on this route, and Monday looks like it might are a lot better than Sunday. So tomorrow at 8AM, barring changes, we will head out to make our way to Foggy Bay, our hold over spot after surviving Dixon the first time, with hopes that the next morning we can make our way across the most exposed section early and have time to get into Prince Rupert, BC, Canada. Should have internet connectivity there so may be able to let you know!

Ruffy on Tuffy

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