-Lee Allred
"A ship is safe in harbor but that's not what ships are for."
- William G.T. Shedd
Coordinates: 56°28.982 N 132°57.820 W, 56°30.600 N
132°57.820, 56°48.775 N 132°57.686
Again, the finicky service of southeast Alaska has defeated
our blogging efforts. Three whole days to catch up on. We’ve conquered the
Wrangell Narrows, ate pizza in Petersburg, watched hundred foot waterfalls,
sneaky sea lions and had porpoises chasing our wake. Just a few hours ago, we
were floating at Danger Point just off our Alaskan hometown of Angoon, pulled
up beside our good friends John and Kathy Quinn with a wave to our other good
friends the Jimmy and Crystal Parkin, but for anyone who’s spent much time in
the Southeast, the Wrangell Narrows is quite a ways from Angoon. So good
friends will have to wait until a bit later, while we catch up the good ole’
ship log a bit.
Last entry, I ended contemplating how we were going to get
over our next major hurdle: the Wrangell Narrows. You know, we’ve talked lots
about places that should have been rough and weren’t (flashback to Cape Caution
and Dixon). But here at last we come to a place that can be dangerous no matter the
weather—and nigh impossible in fog.
Strong converging currents, 60 marker buoys, rocks around every bend--Wrangell Narrows is so twisty, and
well, narrow in places that the State of Alaska literally dredged the ocean
floor to make it deeper. On the bright side, so much has been done to make the
Narrows safe, that as long as you follow the lines—like caution cones in a
construction zone—you’re pretty well safe. That is, if the traffic is paying
attention too.
Ah, and the traffic. Everything from mucho large ferries to
tugboats to barges and skiffs go up and down the Narrows every day, and FYI,
sailboats are like, super slow compared to powerboats. Sometimes it feels like
being a tractor on the highway. So we got passed by speedy powerboats the whole
way, along with a fishing trawler named the Gandalf
that we didn’t have a prayer of passing.
“You shall not pass!” I’m glad to use a Lord of the Rings quote, since a
lot of what we passed looked like you could have filmed it up here.
Which is part of why the Narrows are such a wonderful, if
complicated place. High, snow-capped mountains shelter sheltered coves and points, miniature islands
are strewn across your way, pines growing and standing watch on their edge. To
see it all safely, you have to enter the Narrows at just the right time,
because of tides that clash right in the middle. So we found ourselves lurking
in the channel until noon, waiting for our chance. When it came, we took it
with an eye on a GPS and most importantly, the depth.
At its shallowest safe point, the Narrows are only 21 feet
deep. We kept track of every marker, just in case we needed to radio for help
and they needed a location. The log looked like this, but with lots more of it:
12:57 PM
passed Marker 14 (9.42 knots speed)
1:00 Passed
fishing boat “Miss Sherri”
1:02 Passed
Marker 15 on Port, Marker 16 on starboard, Spruce Point
The Captain drove most of the time, but a certain Skipper
got to drive from Scow Bay in the Narrows almost to Petersburg ;D. With all
hands on deck, watching the depth, we got through just fine. And as you can
see, it had some pretty spectacular views.
Pulling into Petersburg smelled a great deal like fish, likely from
the canneries, but brought home a very true fact. We love Petersburg. It had
been 11 years since we visited Petersburg for the first time, and though it
isn’t home Angoon to us, it is a beautiful, very friendly place and much
smaller than Ketchikan—much to its credit. It also has the best pizza place IN
ALASKA, “Papa Bear’s Pizza” (recommended by Cap'n Jack). Some might know the First
Mate, Deckhand Alyssa and I are gluten intolerant, and Papa Bear's gluten-free pizza
was the best we’ve ever eaten, bar none. We complimented the chef and owner, and he told
us he’d flown to Las Vegas and sampled 45 gluten-free crusts, only liked two of
them, and flies his crust in from Everett, Washington. The world benefits from
his persistence, I tell you.
After satisfying pizza we went back to the dock and found a
very interesting sight. A sea lion had taken up resident in the dock harbor,
but behaved more oddly than any sea lion I’d seen. Our friend the sea lion
seemed to think that if he ducked his head underwater, he was perfectly hidden.
So his brown rump stuck up like an unpeeled potato in a pot, drifting
not-so-stealthily towards whatever interesting thing had caught his beady eyes.
Then he’d look up at us, snort, and duck back under like a blubbery ninja.
He was gone when we woke in the morning, in a fog that
almost convinced us to not to leave at all. As it was, the uneasy fog hid a
fishing trawler until we passed it with only fifty feet to spare. But that’s
for another post perhaps.
Hoonah is looming up closer, and soon the end of the nearly
1000 mile journey. But there’s more to tell yet. Keep those sails loosed!
Skipper Krystal
Photo cred: Alyssa :)
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