Susan's Spot:
Paddling the Alaskan Marine Highway
April-May 1995
This is an article from WaveLength Magazine, available in print in North America and globally on the web.
by Susan Noppe
Rain. Pelting, driving rain. Twenty-one hours of it now. This morning we awoke-nineteen kilometres north of Sitka, Alaska-to three inches of it that had collected in our pots overnight. We had hid in the tent until late morning hoping for a break, then my friend Steve and I decided to make a run for it. We had a ferry to catch to Petersburg the next day.
We paddled for four hours against the wind and the tide, stopping only once to huddle, wet and shivering, under some huge spruce trees and munch on soggy peanut butter and jam smeared bagels. Nearing the Sitka campground, a few hundred metres from the ferry terminal, we were envisioning a sheltered area, somewhere dry to pitch the tent and let it dry out after this torrential onslaught.
We beached our kayaks, wandered around the deserted September campground, noticed the padlocked outhouses and resigned ourselves to another wet night. Back down at the boats we noticed one of the Alaskan ferries coming into port. "Want to find out where it's heading?" Steve asked, rain dripping from his nose. No answer required, we were back in our kayaks sprinting for the ferry terminal.
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Kayak transport made easy by ferry travel. |
"Hey! Where's this ferry going?" we shouted up to a terminal worker on the ramp. "Petersburg," came the response. Music to our ears. We scrambled our boats up from the rocky cove below the ramp and ran into the terminal to change our tickets.
Three hours later, our tent set up on the ferry's upper aft deck and our wet clothes hanging from a throw bag line tied across the railings, kayaks safely stowed on the car deck, we sat stretched out on lawn chairs sipping hot tea, smug smiles on our faces. Ahh, the Alaskan Marine Highway. Free hot showers, comfy lawn chairs to sleep on under the stars and even an occasional aurora borealis show.
We had left Skagway, Alaska with our boats and gear at the beginning of September with a rough plan of paddling a few Alaskan panhandle areas and using the Alaskan ferry system to transport us over the stretches between. Eventually, we planned to switch over to BC Ferries for a Queen Charlottes trip before hopping back to the Alaskan Marine Highway and ferrying from Ketchikan to Bellingham, Washington.
Despite this one day, our four day Sitka trip was nothing but sunny skies and calm seas. Arriving in Sitka on a Saturday, we had left our kayaks at the ferry terminal and hitch-hiked the ten kilometres into town to buy groceries. Sitka, a town of less than ten thousand residents was once the largest city on the west coast of North America. Formerly a major Tlingit Indian village, the Tlingits were forced to abandon the village when it was taken over as a fort by Russian traders in 1804. The site became the capital of Russian America until Alaska became a possession of the United States in 1867.
The tidy and colourful modern day town surrounds a quaint and active harbour. After a couple of hours of sightseeing and grocery shopping, we caught another ride back to the terminal with a fisherman who was biding his time, waiting for the upcoming halibut opening.
"You're going out there in those little boats?" he queried with a shake of his head. "You'd never catch me in one." We could only smile and shrug. We were getting used to these comments, especially since Steve has this habit of using a large volume whitewater boat for ocean touring.
We dropped the kayaks into the water in the warm mid-afternoon sunshine and paddled west through the Gavanski Islands keeping in mind the fisherman's warning about strong late afternoon winds. Strong indeed. We were forced to shore a little earlier than planned and accidentally happened upon a beautiful camping spot on the southwest tip of Krestof Island that caught both the evening sunset and morning sunrise. After a sunset dinner on the expansive rocky intertidal zone we climbed up a bluff to bed down among what we found in the morning to be an extensive network of bear trails. Luckily they didn't find us very interesting, and we weren't insulted.
Two days later we came across three playful sea otters in narrow Sukoi Inlet happily lazing on their backs with their feet sticking up out of the ocean. I was excited to see them since they are only slowly being reintroduced to the northern outside coast of Vancouver Island after being hunted to the brink of extinction in the mid 1800's, due to the high European demand for their pelts. Several minutes later, while paddling about a hundred metres away from a strange looking bed of kelp, the whole bed began moving in unison, rhythmically rising and diving sideways, many pairs of eyes staring straight at us. The kelp was really about fifty sea otters rafted together, resting in the afternoon sunshine.
Although at first glance Sukoi Inlet had appeared on the chart to be a strait leading to the northern tips of Kruzhof and Partofshikof Islands, we discovered it was indeed an inlet when we approached the middle of it at mid-tide and found ourselves portaging the kayaks up a trickle of water through hundreds of frantic fish trying also to get through.
The warm September sunshine continued for our third day of paddling through Neva Strait where we discovered a beautiful creek on the east side of Partofshikof Island. Tumbling down from its source, a one-kilometre-long lake, 140 metres above the inlet, the creek becomes a waterfall a short walk from the seashore. Below the falls are natural pools and flat rocks surrounded by lush green undergrowth perfect for a quick cool dip and lunch.
That evening, setting up camp at the northern tip of Baranof Island we felt like we had inherited prime waterfront property. Aside from the odd fishing trawler, we had seen no one for three days and had enjoyed secluded and scenic camp sites. Sitting on the beach next to our campfire, watching the sun set over the western tree tops, we felt the first few drops of rain. "It had to happen eventually," I said, "This place is supposed to get over eight feet of rain a year."
We hadn't expected all eight feet of it in one day but although our fourth day was an exercise in endurance, paddling hard through Olga Strait against strong tides, wind and heavy rains, this day gave us a glimpse of the weather that was responsible for the incredible forests that climb the steep shores of the many islands surrounding Sitka. It also made me even more fond of those free hot showers on the ferry.
If you go:
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Susan Noppe is a freelance travel and outdoors writer, and regular WaveLength columnist. In addition to sea kayak guiding around Vancouver Island, she has paddled in Baja, Alaska, the Queen Charlottes and, most recently, Hawaii.
