Monthly Archive for September, 2004

2004 Sep 25: Prince Rupert to Port McNeill

Saturday morning, September 25, ADAGIO was tied up to the fuel dock when it opened at 7 AM. After taking on 543 liters of diesel fuel we were ready to depart Prince Rupert, but Steve discovered that he had left his wallet at Breakers Pub. The wallet could not be found so we phoned and cancelled our 3 Visa credit cards from the pay phone at the fuel dock and untied our dock lines.

Narrow Grenville Channel was thick with fog and logs. Our radar picked up several targets, mostly fishing boats, staying to the right side of the channel, as were we. At about 11:30 AM a target appeared on the radar, heading rapidly towards us from our starboard side, and slightly behind us. I tried altering course, but still could not determine our situation. I put the engines into full reverse and a large sport fishing boat steamed across our bows, no radar, no lookout. Whew. I am sure he never saw us. Shaken but not damaged, I was happy to hand the watch over to Steve. In this crossing situation, the other boat had the right of way, as both boats were under power, and the other boat was on our starboard side. On the other hand the other boat was overtaking ADAGIO, so ADAGIO had the right of way. It was complicated. It just reinforces the fact that incidents like this can develop quite rapidly in fog. Our Canadian/New Zealand friends later commented tat they were glad ADAGIO had not been “pranged”, Canada-speak for a beam-on collision.

The fog came and went, revealing waterfalls coming out of the numerous creeks after winding their way down the cliffs and through the forest. When the channel narrowed, we passed through weak whirlpools where logs and rafts of large kelp fronds tended to accumulate close to shore, so we maintained a mid-channel course. Less than two nautical miles from our destination we had a 2.3 knot favorable current. There were about a dozen large logs in the location marked on the chart as having whirlpools, south of James Point, at the entrance to Lowe Inlet. We entered from the south and missed them all. The entrance is straight forward at low tide, with all hazards visible. Seals like silver bullets lolled on the rocks to port. We motored over to have a look at Verney Falls. Pretty, low falls with lots of water, as it comes out of the forest, with deep water right up to a 1 fathom ledge. Boats frequently anchor at the foot of the falls. We would not. A river otter was playing in the foam at the base of the falls.

A“t anchor a few hundred meters from Verney Falls, we watched a flock of black turnstones busily turning over stones on the beach, and a female merganser swimming near the rocks on shore, putting her head under water every few seconds. Her head was a much brighter red color than shown in the field guide to birds. A flock of tiny shore birds spun through the air from time to time, landing and taking off from the small beach.

In the morning, a line of logs and kelp fronds blocked our way as they had collected in a tide line across Grenville Channel just south of the entrance to Lowe Inlet at Hepburn Point. We headed for the narrowest area of the debris, and put the engines in neutral as we passed through. Motoring through the fog, we announced a “Securite’” every 10 minutes on VHF radio channel 16 giving our course, and practiced tracking the fishing boats on our radar. The fog lifted as we exited Grenville Channel and entered Wright Sound, and into the bumpy seas whipped up by the wind whistling out of Douglas Channel to port. The seas calmed as we entered McKay Reach which took us into narrow Princess Royal Channel.

This reach was relatively free of logs, although we occasionally passed a large one, and only a few boats. Sunshine through dappled clouds lighted the bare, glacially scoured grey rock mountains and cascading waterfalls. We were astonished to see that the tops of some of the mountains had been clear-felled by the logging companies. We timed our passage through Heikish Narrows for a three knot favorable current. The whirlpools were small but moved ADAGIO around a bit. No dramas, under blue skies and clear water. This area is the location of the first fish farms that we had seen.

On September 26 we were greeted by a strong fragrance of cedar trees, as we entered the channel into Bottleneck Inlet and approached our anchorage. At dusk, a full moon rose at the head of the bay, sending a long reflection across the water to ADAGIO. A beautiful sunset peeked through the narrow entrance to the inlet and created a mirror image on the still water. Wisps of fog leaked through the narrow entrance into the anchorage after dark and wove their tendrils in and out of the tops of the trees.

We made an early start Monday morning for the region of Bella Bella where we hoped to find a berth at the new docks at Shearwater Marine. Conditions were good for crossing the exposed waters of Millbank Sound, except for the fog and light rain. We arrived at Shearwater at about 3 PM on September 27 and tied up to a floating wharf, where two men clad in camouflage clothing took our lines. We asked them which was their boat, and they pointed to the one ahead of us named PACIFIC GRIZZLY. We asked them what kind of fish they were catching, and they answered, “Bears.” They said that the government keeps track of the bear population on the islands, and that they had been hired to cull the old and weak black bears to keep the population healthy. They said that they had several black bears in the freezer of their large boat. When I inquired of the waiter in the restaurant about hiking trails, I asked if there were bears on the island. He answered that there were black bears, and wolves. The wolves stay well fed on the local deer population. We splurged and spent some of our limited funds on halibut and salmon burgers and large salads at the restaurant. Shearwater had minimum facilities and the highest daily rate of any marina we had visited, a whopping $100. Just when we could least afford it. We had become accustomed to paying $20 per night at the state-owned marinas in Alaska.

Tuesday, September 28 we made an early departure and entered Lama Passage where we found weak whirlpools which swung the bow of the boat from port to starboard, then back to port then to starboard, as we passed from one whirlpool to another. Heavily forested hills and islands were on all sides, dotted with a bald eagle or two. We entered Fisher Channel in full sunshine, and following seas and breeze. Time for sunglasses. Cruising does not get any better than this. In the wider Fitz Hugh Sound, ocean swells came through the passes between the islands to the west.

One to two meter swells came in from Queen Charlotte Sound as we entered Smith Sound. Groups of murres or murrelets surrounded us as we approached the entrance to Millbrook Cove. A seal watched us as we anchored. Steve’s log entry at 3:30 PM was, “Anchor down in Millbrook Cove BOTTOM VERY SOFT, HOLDING VERY POOR. Put anchor in 1.5 fathoms with 40M of chain. Still drag slowly both engines at idle, with chain stretched at 166M off rocks and pilings and 140M off rocks to starboard beam.” We had raised the anchor which was covered with fine silt and eel grass strands, then re-set it and let out even more chain and rode.

We rose early Wednesday morning, intending to round Cape Caution before the forecast gale force northerly winds and two to three meter seas came up. Well, at low tide at dawn, ADAGIO was hard aground, in the center of the eel grass bed, our anchor chain payed out ahead of us over the silty bottom. We weren’t going anywhere early that morning. While we waited, I heard a loon calling, and then saw it swimming past. We calculated that the tide at 10 AM would most likely be high enough for us to be afloat, and we could back off, dragging our anchor through the soft silt into the deeper part of the bay. It worked! And we departed Millbrook Cove at 10 AM. The diagram of the anchorage in the cruising guide shows one fathom of depth near the pilings near the shore at zero tide. It actually dries at 3 ft above zero tide. The cruising guides give depths in fathoms. Some of the Canadian charts give depths in meters, others give depths in fathoms. We must be vigilant as to which unit of measure is being used for depths, and it can be confusing.

It was good fun ocean walloping again as we enjoyed the northerly 25 knot winds and two to three meter seas from Queen Charlotte sound and into Queen Charlotte Strait. By noon on September 29 we had rounded Cape Caution, accompanied by dolphins, and flew past Pine Island. From time to time in our voyaging we have motor-sailed, and often we have surfed ADAGIO while sailing, but this day we engaged in “motor-surfing”. In Gordon Channel, with Dorothy at the helm, the engines moving us along at 8 knots, the waves would lift us and hurry us along at 12 knots, then 13 knots, and occasionally at 14 knots of boat speed. Who needs sails in these conditions? Can you imagine taking YOUR home out for a little surfing?

Passing Port Hardy we were joined by several dozen Dalls porpoises who stayed with us for about an hour, frolicking, tail slapping, surfing on our bow waves and leaping for joy. These small porpoises exhale and inhale so quickly when they surface for air that we hear a “zip” sound.

We arrived at Port McNeill on September 29, at a little past 6 PM. The Port McNeill marina was full, and with 20 knots of wind, we were reluctant to try to fit into a small space. The harbormaster did not return our call on VHF radio, but the ketch ISLAND ROAMER did and said that the harbormaster had left for the day. We decided it would be safer to anchor out for the night and hope for calm winds in the morning. We set our anchor down at the west end of bay near 2.4 meter sounding, on a 50 meter rode. On our first attempt, we found a huge kelp bed northwest of the marina, and the anchor would not hold. On our second try we trapped a piece of log in the anchor bight. Our anchor finally held, as the full moon was rising. The strong northwesterlies were expected to continue the following day.

On the beautiful, calm morning of September 30, at anchor with full moon ahead, clearly displaying all of its mare and funny faces, the sunrise performed astern.

We motored over to the Port McNeill marina and found many empty berths. We tied up inside finger F, across from the space on finger E which is reserved for the school bus boat. Dorothy went to the harbor master’s office near the ferry wharf, where there were notes posted saying that she was at the town office. A phone call found her there. We explained our lack of funds, and Hilje the dock-master pulled $500 cash out of her pocket and handed it to Steve. It took a while to receive our new Visa cards, but meanwhile we would not starve.

Port McNeill is the next to the last town on the north end of the road up the east coast of Vancouver Island. Cruisers of these waters consider the waters north of Cape Caution to be the real Canadian and Alaskan “wilderness”. South of Cape Caution, boats travel in channels that are protected from the ocean by 250 mile long Vancouver Island. The difference was immediately evident. For example, people go to the trouble to paint their wooden buildings down here. In Ketchikan, Prince Rupert, Wrangell and Sitka, the rain and snow peels paint so quickly that some buildings stand bare and “rustic”, or with peeling paint that no one has bothered to repair. Port McNeill does not have that “Wild West” appearance that we had grown to expect in each village that we have visited. Even the dogs are smaller and have fewer wolf genes.

I took the ferry to Alert Bay on Cormorant Island, and visited the U’mista Cultural Center, the tallest totem pole in the world and the burial grounds where many totem poles have been erected. It was a beautiful sunny day. The history of the First Nations’ struggles with the Canadian government over the custom of potlatches was very well explained. Displayed at the center are a large number of 100 year old wooden masks which had been confiscated by the government in the 1930’s, and returned to the people fairly recently.

The following day found me on the ferry to Malcolm Island to visit the town of Sointula. When I asked a man in the cafe about taking the walking trail up to Big Lake, he said that the trail goes through the forest, and that I should not go alone because there is a black bear on the island. He said that the bear had come into his yard and destroyed his plum tree. Instead I walked half way to the whale rubbing bay west of Bere Pt, hitched a ride the other half way and all the way back. Orcas come to this bay to rub their bodies on the round pebbles and to breed. We saw no orcas, but collected two of the round stones, one back with white flecks and one white with black flecks.

Thick fog had moved in from the west and surrounded the marina, cooling off what had been a warm, sunny day. After a few hours, the fog disappeared as quickly as it had come. Over the next few days, a series of frontal systems threatened to bring gale to storm force southeasterlies and rain.

On October 8 we visited with Kevin and Maureen as they were provisioning their 100 year old 92’ schooner MAPLE LEAF. Kevin used to manage the northern region of Vancouver Island for the Canadian parks and wildlife. Their business is called Maple Leaf Adventures, wildlife and cultural tours in SE Alaska and BC. Kevin is interested in a catamaran of his own, and so we invited them aboard ADAGIO. The ship’s chef brought us a large bag of fresh herbs, and two large beers, sporting beautiful labels showing a photo of MAPLE LEAF under full sail, celebrating her 100th year. Kevin recommended that we phone the harbormaster in Victoria asking for a berth for some time this winter or spring. MAPLE LEAF will be there November thru February. He said that it’s a great place when you are living aboard, but Port Sidney is more secure if you will be away from the boat.

2004:Sep 17: Ketchikan to Prince Rupert

On September 17 a good weather window opened up and we departed Ketchikan for Prince Rupert, British Columbia, Canada, with a favorable current, light winds, steady barometer and rain ahead.

Soon we were once again exposed to the North Pacific Ocean as we crossed the eastern side of Dixon Entrance and ducked into Brundige Inlet on Dundas Island for the night. This anchorage was very beautiful, completely surrounded by evergreen forest growing down to the rocky shore. An osprey flew over soon after we had anchored, and was calling to another osprey in the forest. Winds in the 20’s out of the northeast boosted our southerly progress the next morning, but died just as I was unfurling the jib.

Arriving September 18 at the Prince Rupert Rowing and Yacht Club at 4 PM, we tied up to the outside of the floating dock. Two different cruising couples in boats nearby were generous with their tips on anchorages along our route to the south. We had entered Canadian waters.

A frontal system was forecast to arrive Sunday night and Monday, bringing strong southerlies. By Monday morning the barometer was up 6 points, and all the other cruising boats had departed. Rain arrived with northerly winds. During the night the barometer fell 8 points in 8 hours, a harbinger of the cold front which brought heavy rain and SE winds of 27 knots. The barometer zoomed up again, then plummeted as another cold front passed over us, bringing another night of heavy rain. We took the opportunity to visit the fine Museum of Northern British Columbia in Prince Rupert. The forecast was for light northerly winds on Saturday.

2004 Sep 14: Wrangell to Ketchikan

On September 14, the barometer was steady at 1008, the sky was clear to the east and cloudy to the south. It began to rain as we departed Wrangell for Ketchikan. In Zimovia Strait the fishing boat ahead named SEA FIRE hailed us on the VHF marine radio to say that he was towing a gill net. We altered course to port to give him a wide berth.

Two bald eagles were sitting in the rain on top of green navigation mark “15” at the beginning of the narrows. Soon into the narrows we watched a bald eagle fly down to the water and catch a fish in its talons, white tail flared like a fan.

We entered Ernest Sound in scattered rain and a light wind on our port quarter. It was slack tide. The sun peeked out rarely, but we had good visibility to almost 5 miles. The channel is very deep, and deeper ahead, up to 1488 feet deep. We passed several “snags”, submerged trees with branches and leaves above the water’s surface.

We entered Clarence Strait at 2 PM into an ENE wind as forecast, but the seas were lower than expected. In the rain we dodged logs and numerous pairs of floats marking crab pots 1/4 mile apart just 1/3 nautical mile off shore. During the afternoon we were passed a by the sport fishing boat ALASKAN STORY, also by a tug towing a barge heavily laden with crates and containers, and finally by 2 huge cruise ships which were approaching Ketchikan.

As we were entering Tongass Narrows, a procession of three cruise ships were departing. The third one was so enormous and was moving so very slowly that we thought it was anchored. It was not until with the binoculars we could see a tiny bow wave that we realized that it was actually on a collision course with us. We easily altered course to starboard and passed the cruise ship port side to port side.

On the VHF radio, we spoke to Rick at the harbormasters office. He said we could end tie at finger 5 in Thomas Basin, or go to the City Floats. He said that a creek at the head of the Thomas Basin caused a current alongside the end of the finger. If we did not like that we can go to the inside of the City Floats, but this is not as “secure” as the Thomas Basin. We could go to harbormaster’s office after 8AM tomorrow. Rick will be in office until 10PM today.

When we arrived at the marina in Ketchikan, we found the berth in Thomas Basin was too short for ADAGIO, so we tied up on the outside of the floating wharf at the City Floats, and the next morning took ADAGIO to a better spot inside the float. By the end of the day, all spaces were taken in the marina, with

fishing boats rafted up to each other. Our luck was holding.

The next morning the circus began. At 5 AM, we were awakened by an alarmingly loud machinery noise. I quickly looked out to see if one of the large steel commercial fishing boats might be maneuvering very close to us on his way out of the harbor. The fishing boats were still rafted up on the adjacent wharf, but beyond them I was appalled to see an enormous wall of lights, slowly moving past the marina, only a few hundred feet away. The ugly machinery noise continued until the cruise ship had passed and was berthed at the cruise ship dock just next to the marina. By noon, there were two cruise ships berthed, and two anchored out in the channel. Each ship carried thousands of passengers. The busses lined up in the street to load long queues of tourists.

The float planes buzzed around the harbor like flies. We had not noticed the sea plane floats near our berth when we had arrived. The pilots lined up the little single engine planes in a row on the floats and had their propellers spinning invitingly, as the tourists streamed past. At the end of the day, it was fun to watch the little planes oooch themselves back up onto the floats, where they stayed perched out of the water overnight.

Every year hundreds of large king salmon swim between the boats berthed in Thomas Basin marina, past the shops and artists on Creek Street (the old red-light district), up Ketchikan Creek and through a large pipe into the ponds of The Deer Mountain Tribal Hatchery in Ketchikan. The eggs and sperm are taken from the fish and held in trays underwater until hatched. The fingerlings are fed many times a day, and grow quickly. In the spring over 300,000 young king salmon are released back into the creek. Some will have been marked by clipping off the tip of the adipose fin, so they can be identified as hatchery fish which are still considered to be wild fish when caught. The hatchery is not a large operation, considering how many fish they ‘produce’, with fewer than a dozen large tanks and many aeration pumps.

Next door to the hatchery is the Totem Heritage Center. In this small museum have been preserved in glass cases many original, unrestored totem poles from Tlingit and Haida villages in the area. The 1800’s is considered to have been the “golden age” of totem pole carving. By native tradition, these 80 to 160 year old totems were left to fall and return to the soil. But so many of the natives died from diseases brought by Europeans, that the villages were long ago deserted. The most famous totem poles have been duplicated by contemporary native carvers, and stand in various parks. We were able to watch Tlingit artist Israel Shotridge carving a totem pole in a shed behind the Totem Heritage Center. The Saxman Village totem pole park north of Ketchikan displays about a dozen old and new totem poles. “Living cultural treasure”, Nathan Jackson, was carving a totem pole in the park’s Carver’s Shed. Using hand-made carving tools, these contemporary Michaelangelos create complex three-dimensional figures by eye and simple measuring tools. Occasionally an artist will first create a small wooden model of the final sculpture.

Images of the beaver, eagle, raven, bear, whale, salmon, orca, frog, man and wolf are the most common figures carved into totem poles. With practice we can identify the figures, but each pole carries its own story or statement. In the town of Ketchikan, natives have begun carving totem poles to display in front of their houses, like a family crest. Other totem poles are carved to assist in the telling of the native legends, for example, about how the raven stole the sun, moon and stars and flung them into the sky for all to enjoy. Other poles represent the characters in a story about the man who married a bear, and a story about an eagle that tried to pick up a very large clam and ended up getting his foot caught in the clam and dying. Other poles have been carved to ridicule a person, or as a memorial to a revered person who has died.

Two of our favorite native artists in Ketchikan are Norman Jackson and Marvin Oliver. You will enjoy having a look at their web sites. I would buy one of Norman’s carved wooden masks if I could afford it.

2004 Sep 5: Sitka to Petersburg to Wrangell

Our daughter and her family boarded their planes for home, and we prepared ADAGIO for her passage south to her winter berth on Bainbridge Island, Washington. We enjoyed a final meal at our favorite Ludvig’s Bistro.

On September 5 we departed New Thomsen Marina, Sitka, Alaska. Our first destination was to be Tracy Arm to see the Sawyer Glacier. The weather was clearing, and we could see the mountain peaks in their snowy splendor.

We were East of Scraggy Island at 2:30 PM, and slowed our speed to arrive at Sergius Narrows 30 minutes before slack tide. Our cruising guide says, “At ebb tide Sergius Narrows is dangerous, with tide rips and turbulence.” A few showers filled the skies. At 3 PM we passed through Kakul Narrows with a favorable current of 1-1/2 knots. Ahead it looked like more rain showers. We were looking for whales. We entered Sergius Narrows at 3:45 PM, in light rain, at slack high tide. No current was visible at the base of the navigation marks. Several small sport fishing boats passed through going both directions. Our passage through was a piece of cake!

We followed the channel called Peril Strait, formed by an ancient fault, which passes between Chichagof and Baranof Islands. The name comes from an incident in 1799 when a party of 100 Aleut hunters died of paralytic shellfish poisoning after eating quantities of mussels.

Passing Nismeni Cove, we headed for an overnight anchorage at Appleton Cove in the east arm of Peril Strait. Light rain and some fog was all around, but we still had good visibility. We rounded the Duffield Peninsula at the north end of Baranof Island, seeing the shoreline of Chichagof Island across the strait to port. This land is forest-covered mountains of spruce and hemlock, separated by glacier-carved fjords. We were cruising among the “ABC Islands” (Admiralty, Baranof and Chichagof) that constitute the northwest quarter of the beautiful Tongass National Forest.

At 7 PM we set our anchor in 6 fathoms in the west end of Appleton Cove. In the soft bottom, our anchor dragged very slowly while setting at 1000 rpm. We avoided crossing a line of four round floats strung out from shore, across the head of the bay. They might be attached to a fish net. We did not want to find out the hard way. The rain was easing, allowing brief glimpses of some blue sky. When the sun set at 7 PM there was still lots of light in the sky.

On September 6, on a beautiful, quiet morning, totally overcast with low clouds, we raised anchor and entered the east arm of Peril Strait, passing a fishing boat which was pulling in salmon on what looked like a longline.

The wind had already turned to the northeast as we passed between Pt. Craven on Chichagof Island to the north and Fairway Island near Baranof Island to the south, and entered Chatham Strait. Turning south just east of Midway Reef, Chatham Strait was a little bumpy coming out of Peril Strait, but became smoother with seas astern.

After lunch, the seas were calmer, waterfalls lay to starboard, and a clearing sky lay ahead. The barometric pressure was up to 1021, and the wind had decreased. Occasional rain sprinkles. By 2:00 PM we were five nautical miles northwest of Pt. Gardner, the southern tip of Admiralty Island. Clouds had cleared somewhat, revealing the white mountain peaks and hanging glaciers on Baranof Island.

Just south of Point Gardner we spotted two Humpback whales, spouting and sounding, feeding around the kelp. Several more humpbacks were feeding across the channel to the southeast, their white, steamy spouts contrasting sharply against the dark hills behind.

At 4 PM we anchored in Chapin Bay on the SE corner of Admiralty Island, in 6 fathoms, over sand. It was a very pretty, quiet, still bay. The shores were thickly forested from the waters edge to the mountain peaks. Wispy white cloud fragments interwove their strands between the silhouettes of the dark green trees. Large white moon jellies pulsed their way through the water and were joined by large orange jellies with round star-shaped spherical heads with dangling tentacles. A kingfisher chattered in the trees and flew quickly to and from various perches in the shoreline trees. A small sailboat was anchored close to shore.

On the morning of September 7 we raised our anchor on a beautiful day, and changed our destination to Petersburg, the Norwegian fishing town. We had heard from several cruisers that Tracy Arm was full of house-sized icebergs, and we needed to get some better information about the situation. Also the barometer was falling, so we needed some up-to-date weather information. After all, we had to get south before the rain (and snow?) was so heavy we couldn’t see our way. There was still so much we did not understand about this area, even after reading books, guides and talking to locals. We will know more soon. We have seen humpback whales every day, and today sailed close to several pods who were heavily feeding. Mountain clouds were clearing and we could see the soaring peaks.

Our route through Frederick Sound took us between Turnabout island and Pinta Rocks, north of Kupreanof Island. We watched whales just northwest of Pinta Point. More whales ahead. The barometer continued to fall and the wind was increasing slowly. We passed a tug pulling a barge full of shipping containers and an Alaskan state ferry, both heading west as we headed east.

The small town of Petersburg was settled by Norwegians in 1900 when they established salmon canneries, and later canneries for herring, halibut and frozen shrimp. Decorated with paintings of traditional Norwegian floral designs called rosemaling, the historic buildings, sport tidy gardens as they line the orderly streets. All of this with expansive views of mainland glaciers in the Stikine-Le Conte Wilderness.

We spent one night in the town of Petersburg. Steve downloaded from the internet the latest weather forecasts, and we saw that a deepening low would be approaching our area over the next three days. We decided to continue south to the town of Wrangell, which has more facilities than Petersburg. To get there we had to make our way through the notorious Wrangell Narrows, 21 miles long, between Kupreanof and Mitkof Islands. To quote from the Coast Pilot, “The channel is narrow and intricate in places, between dangerous ledges and flats, and the tidal currents are strong.” Our passage through the Wrangell Narrows was as good as it gets. Under a sunny sky, with the glacier-covered mountains sparkling astern, the currents in the narrows never exceeded two knots, because of the neap tides of the quarter moon. Following the instructions in the Pilot, late on the flood tide, we left the dock a few minutes after the large Alaskan Fish and Game research vessel “KESTREL”, a very impressive boat with navy hull and gold bootstripe. We made the passage in two hours 15 minutes. At one point, about half way through the narrows, the boat was being swung slightly back and forth, back and forth, oscillating in the current. The navigation aids are numerous and well-placed, and the shoreline dotted with the occasional tiny peak-roofed cabin, each with a tiny boat launch ramp or small dock.

By noon, the northwest wind was up to 20 knots as forecast. The ride was a little bumpy. Our course took us through the channel between Sokolof and Vank Islands. Seas were on the beam until we were in the lee of Sokolof. On the other side of the islands was Zimovia Strait, and more wind waves on the beam.

As we approached the mainland, the water turned from a sparkling clarity to a milky appearance, due to snow-melt and tiny rock particles from the glaciers.

The Wrangell harbormaster is named Ladonna. Her assistant is named Steve. We tied up to the Reliance Harbor transient dock, next to the historic Shakes Island. This small island in the middle of the small-boat harbor is the site of a Tlingit Indian clan house and collection of totem poles constructed by Native workers, using traditional tools, in the Civilian Conservation Corps during the 1930’s. Berthing ADAGIO within a stone’s throw of this historic site gave me goose-bumps, as I could imagine the lifestyle of the First Nations peoples two hundred years ago, before the arrival of Europeans.

Small fishing boats tied to the float ahead of us and astern were rafted together two and three abreast. ADAGIO was as wide as the two boats ahead of us, SALTY and MEMORIES, so we hoped no other boat would raft alongside ADAGIO and her fragile hulls. Almost all of the other boats in this harbor are small commercial fishing boats, smaller and quieter than the large fishing boats at Sitka. The owner of the boat, named DONICA LYN, across the narrow channel, one morning was sorting out his green fishing net with white floats. He carefully inspected it as he strung it out, and repaired it when he found a broken strand. Other local boat names were SAVAGE, NESTOR, SCANDIA, CHELSEA L, ISLAND DANCER and SEA SPRAY.

Locals looked at me with longing when I said that a storm was coming bringing rain. Wrangell was suffering from a long drought and was almost out of water. Water had been turned off at the marina. The best internet cafe was the library. The best restaurant was said to be Zack’s.

I had been looking forward to visiting the Wrangell museum which displays an excellent collection of Native artifacts, including a Tlingit spruce wood canoe, thought to be the only one left in existence. One afternoon I walked to the Wrangell Petroglyph Beach State Historical Park where petroglyphs had been chipped into rocks above high tide. They are thought to be very old, pre-dating the Tlingit peoples. Finding each carving in the stone took some careful observation, and getting the angle of the light just right. As I walked among the rocks, suddenly a face would appear, carved into the rock, or a spiral or other shape would reveal itself.

Black bears and brown bears can be viewed from a platform at the Anan Wildlife Observatory, as they catch salmon swimming upstream. When we inquired, we were told that there were no bears to observe this year because of the drought. Not enough rainfall meant not enough water in the streams for the salmon, so there were no salmon for the bears.

The children of Wrangell sell to the tourists beautiful semi-precious garnet stones. The garnet ledge on the Stikine River was deeded in 1962 to Wrangell’s children who are the only ones allowed to sledgehammer and chisel off garnet-studded rocks from the site. Each garnet is about the size of a large marble, dark translucent red in color and multifaceted.

One morning the local radio announcer said, “Nobody out there is upset because it is raining”. The barometer fell to 992 MB overnight, then rose. Showers came in the afternoon. I was not sure what happened to the forecast wind. The following day the sky was heavy with dark grey clouds all around, and the wind picked up. On September 13 a cold front passed through during the night.