The Mother Goose Expedition

2017 Mother Goose Expedition

This is a report on our second Mother Goose Expedition, this time from Juneau north to Skagway, with an east/west leg past Glacier Bay to the Gulf of Alaska thrown in. You can still see the 2015 edition following this one at the bottom of the page.

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Juneau, June 23 Provisioning Day

It is early in the morning on the first official day of the 2017 Mother Goose excursion, with the coffee maker percolating, as I start this years accounting of our second venture along the Alaskan coast. With the three hour time difference, we fade fast in the evenings, and pop up early in the mornings. I’m usually the first up of the crew of four, leaving plenty of time for putting memories into bits and bytes. The rest of the crew, Bonnie, Eric, and Tracy, are smarter and sleep in a bit, joining me by 5:30 for breakfast making.

Yesterday, our provisioning day and first day allowed on the motor vessel Patos, our home for the next 10 days, provided much entertainment and drama. It’s usually a great time to build anticipation to a fever pitch, acquiring all the necessary supplies for eating, drinking, and entertaining underway. It makes you think about the times and places you might discover under what conditions as you lay for anchor or dock while cooking a meal or celebrating another day on the sea. The morning was spent in Fred’s, a large grocery/sporting goods/clothing/garden/pet/hardware store familiar to those living in the Northwest. Along the way there were lots of laughs. We were like ants, each with our short list of groceries and a grocery cart pacing the isles back and forth and back and forth, finding not only the prescribed items but adding special interests along the way. By the time we met back in the check out line, we found a number of duplications and plenty of non-nutritional delicacies that would surely fill out the coming days, as well as our waistlines.

We also spent some time touring Juneau, our departure port and the capital of Alaska. It must be the smallest city with a state capital, with a population that surely doubles with each onslaught of cruise line guests. This visit we climbed the narrow hillside streets with our rented suburban, hoping not to meet oncoming traffic as we passed the many modest homes, including the governors “mansion”. Like Anything related to government in Alaska, it was quite modest in size, scale, and design. A house you might find on the corner of any relatively upscale neighborhood in Minnesota. The capital itself looks like an old office building with pillars, located downtown, just past the many tourist gift shops, restaurants, and brew pubs. We crossed the mid-town bridge to Douglas Island, which had a delightful wood-fired pizza restaurant along the waterfront, remote enough to be too far for the tourists but close enough for a great view of Juneau and the approaching and departing cruise ships.

After our welcome briefing from the crew of our mother-ship, Deception, the evening brought drama. We watched, as a very nice 18 to 20 foot fishing boat sank before our eyes. Located just down from our boat, it was listing against its tie lines when we first noticed it. After trying to raise the harbor master on the radio, and by the time we walked along side, it’s coolers were floating away and it’s starboard gunnel was under water. The huge Yamaha outboard motor and associate Honda kicker motor, both in the retracted position, sank beneath the surface as we fished cushions, oil bottles, and bait buckets from the water. The deck cleats and tie lines groaned from the strain as the boat settled at a 45 degree angle to the dock. We learned that the owner, known to the harbor security member that finally showed with a small pump that would do no good, had just bought the boat a couple of days ago. As they tried to contact him, a commercial fisherman from a boat tied to a barge just ahead of us, brought extra lines to further secure the boat from sinking completely.

As it would turn out, he would use his boat and lifting boom to hoist a line stretched under the boat to right it so bigger pumps could be used for de-watering after the owner arrived. After being under water for two hours, the owner started the Yamaha easily after the boat was dried out, motoring it to the ramp to be trailered home to discover the cause, which we never learned. We guessed it was due to a raw-water wash down pump with a burst hose as the only plausible explanation. The excitement induced several reactions. One, agony - from watching a perfectly good and well built boat succumb to the incursion of water, destroying its buoyancy. Another, amazement - as a big, previously submerged outboard motor came to life with the twist of a key. In years gone by, that would have only come after a complete disassembly and rebuilding, speaking to the enhanced engineering of modern day equipment. Finally, the good will and unselfish action of a hardworking commercial fisherman rushing to the aide of a near stranger, who was no more than a fellow local mariner in the municipal marina.

The Auke Bay marina operates on a first come, first serve basis. In other words, if dock space is open and you fill it, it’s yours for up to a maximum of 10 days, as long as you don’t leave it. If you leave it, anyone else can slip in behind you and claim the space. After ten days, you must leave that space. You can go out and come back in and occupy another space, if available. The commercial fisherman and tour boat operators are all subject to the same rules. That’s why we see a number of commercial fishing boats rafting off one an other at the end of a day. Indeed, our own boats had to raft to find enough space during transition. Ruby, the fellow that helped raise the sinking boat, was rafting off of the rusty workboat tied up in front of us (making for a more challenging departure the next morning). He didn’t even think twice, as he hauled lines off of his boat to try to stabilize the sinking recreational boat. Or when he backed up his boat to use his boom to lift it up enough to allow pumping. And finished with the smile of satisfaction when the boat motored off to the launching ramp. No payment asked, no payment given, other than a six pack of beer from the formerly floating cooler. Rudy’s the kind of guy you want in your corner in the time of need.

The whole episode was a bit of a sobering experience, reminding us of the importance of good maintenance in boating. Fortunately, the Grand Banks yachts used in Mother Goose get the best attention to mechanical and maintenance engineering detail you can imagine from NW Explorations, giving us all the confidence needed to explore the remote areas of the Alaskan coast.

The adventure was further heightened when the crew spotted a hump back whale just off the end of our dock. We hadn't even left port, and already one whale siting. Kind of funny, as we saw whale watching boats head out to sea in search of the elusive hump back.

Video --> A Whale of a Dock

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Juneau to Excursion Inlet 55 nm 6 hrs 30 min

The rain on the roof of Patos the morning of day one made lounging in bed very tempting. But there were charts to review, routes to program in the navigation instruments, breakfast to make, and a final review of operating manuals to complete. All before a 7:30 to 8:00 a.m. departure window. The forecast for the day was spot on - overcast and intermittent rain throughout the day. In fact, the forecast for most of the week was much the same. We might be looking at Alaska from inside the cabin, as opposed to our preferred location - outside on the bridge.

It was from that indoor perch that we saw another reminder of the need for situational awareness while marine-inating. As we left the harbor, the Coast Guard asked for anyone to provide assistance to a smaller boat marooned on a rock at the exit of Auke Bay. As we left the harbor, we saw what they were talking about. There, high on a small rock, listing heavily to starboard, was a commercial fishing vessel. How a presumably experienced mariner, who could be seen still sitting at the helm, would end up with his boat so perfectly on a rock, apparently the victim of a falling tide, is beyond me. But there he was. Another boater tried to approach him to offer assistance as requested by the Coast Guard. He waved them off. He wanted no assistance, perhaps realizing he was in for about four hours of shear embarrassment.

The rest of the day we wound our way around Douglas Island, up Lynn Canal, over Icy Pass, and up Excursion Inlet to our anchorage at the end of the relatively narrow bay. The tides were pretty severe, with more than twenty feet between high and low. That made rafting on anchor a good idea, with six boats sharing three anchors and three shore tie lines. In Alaska, since the shore drops off so quickly and deeply, we often tie this way, laying about 30 feet off of shore in more than 50 feet of water. All of the boats are tied to each other, six abreast, allowing a fit into tight spaces. Also fostering social opportunities for folks just getting to know each other.

I didn’t notice, but Bonnie heard the Deception crew adjusting lines and anchors a couple of times in the middle of the night as tides came and went. The rest of us just slept peacefully and securely, without a worry. It’s another way we benefit from being part of a flotilla rather than on our own.

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Excursion Inlet to Elfin Cove 41 nm 4 hrs 48 min

You can never get tired of watching marine life, especially ocean dwellers like whales, porpoises, sea otters, sea lions or plain harbor seals. On day two of our cruise, we sat in the middle of all of those.

What began as another dreary, overcast, foggy day evolved into a comfortable cruise back down the inlet and out into Icy Pass, so named because back in the days of cartographer and explorer Lt.Vancouver, it was full of glacial ice. On the way to the open ocean, we passed through some more narrow passes that apparently funnel lots of herring into the open mouths of whales. There were several of them feeding along the shore as we passed by, so we separated from the flotilla to join them. You cannot pursue whales, nor have active props in their close vicinity, so we cruised to the general area and shut down the engines, drifting as they surfaced and blew around us. While they were below, we watched several sea otters and porpoises trying to join the fun. This video contains a few of the scenes we captured, which is not easy to do, since their location and timing to the surface is entirely unpredictable. South Inian Pass Whales Eric tried snapping pictures of slaps of their flutes, or their open mouths as they gulped herring, or the very occasional breach to no real avail. They say whales do the slapping and breaching to stun their prey for easier pickings. But by the time you hear their blow and aimed your camera in their direction, they were back down below the surface to reap their rewards. Tracy had perfect luck with the only good photo we got, shown above.

After an hour or so of drifting and gawking and photo taking, we circled around the bell buoy, said good by to all of the sea lions competing for the few square feet of horizontal surface, and rejoined the flotilla, already docked at Elfin Cove on Chichagof Island. Elfin is a small fishing village, catering mostly to fishing tourists. We rafted on the public dock and watched as plane load after plane load of guests arrived or departed the landing at its end. Several lodges line the shore and the board walk, along with one bar and grill, a post office, a very small school, and a general store with its small selection of very expensive groceries, marine hardware, and articles of clothing. The board walk was built with highway funding, even though it only facilitates foot traffic along its four foot wide path. They call it Alaska Highway One.

Over dinner the clouds cleared for a brief period, exposing the gorgeous Fairweather mountain range. It sported snow and several of Glacier Bay’s famous glaciers, and included Alaska’s highest peak, at 15,000 feet. With decent weather at the end of the day, this turned out to be one of the most beautiful views of the trip.

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Elfin Cove to Dundas Bay 18 nm 2 hrs 12 min

Mickey's Arm

Our itinerary had called for a lay day in Elfin Cove, with the anticipation that several boaters would choose to try fishing in the open ocean with one of the several charter fishing operations in the bay. Unfortunately, all those operations were booked, and to bring one in from an outside location was too expensive for most of us. So that planned was dropped in favor of trekking across the strait to Dundas Bay.

It’s a destination the Patos crew had already targeted with the intention to split from the group rather than sitting on the dock on that day. Dundas is a long bay situated in Glacial Bay National Park with its own wilderness area designation. The reason we didn’t consider exploring the very popular Glacier Bay, with its 20 glaciers, is that visiting permits from the National Park Service are required for boaters, and only 25 are issued at any one time. In other words, you need to arrange access well in advance. And you end up competing with cruise ships, kayaks and canoes in the channels. Another discouragement was this from the cruising guide we were using: ”Caution. The navigation of Glacier Bay … is not considered safe without local knowledge…Vessels are advised to carry extra props…and single screw vessels should not attempt to navigate the bay at all.”

Preparing Dinner

Dundas Bay had a wide entry from North inn Pass, and narrowed as it stretched northwest. As we reached the top of the bay, the water way turned to the southwest into what is called Mickey’s Arm (named after French woman Michele Demai, who intentionally spent the winter on her boat in ice-bound Gut Bay during 1996-97 - Alaska inspires the most extreme adventure concepts). This

Sea Otter Cradle

narrow, beautifully protected anchorage was just two miles east of a chute of Brady Glacier, with a glacial river feeding it with fresh water. We shared the bay with more than 100 sea otters. Sea otters spend their entire lives in the water, eating, sleeping, raising their young, much of the time floating on their backs. When you pass a sea otter, very often they look as though they’re lounging and should have a umbrella drink on their stomach as they float with their bellies and feet up. The beaches were rich with fauna and crustaceans, including Dungeoness crabs and clams (explaining the large sea otter population).

We finally found a spot 50 yards off shore that was 50 feet deep where we laid anchor. When setting an anchor in this part of the world, you really have to account for the tides, which were running around 20 feet from lowest to highest. So we had to plan for another 13 feet of draw, which converts into another 50 feet of chain to lay, using a 4 to 1 ratio.

Set to Trap

Since the last Alaska venture, Eric had been aching to set some crab pots. On that trip, one of the boats had crab every night from their pots, and he was envious. With his recently acquired fishing license, he was bent on being the source of very fresh Alaskan dungeness crab. The pot was set with frozen chicken legs as bait. The crabs were expected to enter the one way door into the cage, feast, and then be left with trying to figure out how to get out. Unfortunately, it was not to be, as no crab fell for the scheme. The Steele brothers from Bonum Vitae had also set out a trap, but captured only small and gullible halibut.

Coming up emptySpeaking of halibut, earlier we had seen Eric pull a halibut during one of his early dockside casts. I declared he had caught a flounder. Tracy declared it a halibut. Never challenge the daughter of an avid fisherman on types of fish. I’m still not sure how you tell the difference between the two bottom feeding flatfish. As it turns out, halibut is a type of flounder, so we were kinda both right…. nope, Tracy had it most Reidt.

In case you might have thought we suffered with spaghetti or hamburgers and hot dogs for meals, fear not. On this evening we enjoyed Eric’s flank steak fajita’s. The tiny grill on board managed to get the job done. We had brought so many ingredients, we were able to make a meal for ourselves and for the crew of Deception, aka Mother Goose. The meal was absolutely outstanding, enhanced by the back drop of the mountains.

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Dundas Bay to Swanson Harbor 53nm 6 hrs 40 min

Swanson Harbor is on the southern tip of the mainland stretching south from Haines, and requires some careful navigating around rocks at it’s entrance. Well protected, the state of Alaska has provided two rafting docks, one of which had room for all of our boats. We had no more than tied the last line than Eric and Tracy loaded the crab pot, which had gathered nothing in Dundas Bay the night before, to drop it at the end of the harbor. Our leader, the young Jordan (aka Little Jordan, as opposed to the naturalist Jordan, aka Big Jordan), suggested that’s where he’d drop a pot if it were him. He made it clear that he was not making a recommendation, as state law prevents him from “guiding” without the proper permit or license.

A Catch

The next morning, with a later departure scheduled for 10:00 a.m., they raised the pot and found several crabs, three of which were of sufficient size (greater than 7”) and gender (only males) for cooking. Since we had never fished for crab before, Eric had to learn from Brandon how to clean and prepare the crab for boiling. Eric jumped into it after one demonstration, almost smashing the first crab to smithereens with a little too much gusto. By crab two and three he had the right touch and came away with great crab legs for breakfast.

Fortunately Bonnie left for a shore tour with the naturalists while Eric cooked the crab over the stove, as the strong smell filled the cabin. It turned out to be as delicious as expected, making for a great if not unusual breakfast. However, the clean up (including the airing of the cabin) made you wonder if you'd want to do that every day - probably not.

Got it - with fingers still attached

Now for the cleaning (Bon couldn't watch this part)

Now for the cooking

Bonnie choose to follow the naturalists for another beach walk. At a minimum it was a form of exercise in contrast to the sedentary nature of cruising. It was also a great chance to learn from one of the most knowledgable naturalist we've ever had the pleasure to come to know. Big Jordan is actually a retired executive from IBM who chooses to join Captain Pemberton, a former associate at IBM, on these cruises as a naturalist crew member. He shares his vast knowledge of the nature of Alaska, both natural and cultural, while adding to his incredible collection of photo's of all kinds of wildlife. Especially birds, which he captures in flight and on the water with his large camera lens.

One of his greatest interests in these walks is what might be living under the rocks that are piled on the beaches. A barron beach comes alive when you turn over rocks, with beetles, carrisflies, snails of all types, and all kinds of other insects hiding underneath. It grew increasingly interesting as Big Jordan explained how those creatures lived and carried on.

From the micro to the macro, Alaska has it all...

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Swanson Harbor to William Henry Bay 37 nm 4 hrs 23 min

A careful navigation of the Swanson Harbor we passed the isle of sea lions once again, watching as males of lesser hierarchy challenged each other for rights and privileges (females and command) that did not exist on the rock. Into the Lynn Canal that would eventually take us to Skagway, we saw the Vanderbilt reef. The significance of that reef would be shared at a talk that evening aboard Deception.

Ever since leaving Icy Strait, we had not seen any whale activity, and we would not see any for the rest of the trip. Apparently the Lynn Canal held no allure. However, we did finally see some porpoises, in this case harbor porpoises that played in the wake of Discovery. At least we could observe their leap off the bow wave into the oncoming sea, if not on our own wave, as I had hoped.

Entering William Henry Bay revealed a pattern of north of one hundred crab pots scattered along one side of the bay. That left less room for the six of us to anchor. We choose to get as close to the shore as possible, inside of the other boats, to conserve on anchor chain and to avoid crowding. Eric was at the helm and I at the windlass. He aimed at the shore, targeting about fifty feet as a place to turn around, set the anchor, and back in from. As I dropped the anchor and he started backing, Bonnie counted off the depth. “Fifty, fifty, forty five, forty two, forty, thirty eight, thirty eight, thirty six, fifteen, ten, ahhh…Jan?” The distance to our minimum for water under the hull (15 feet) came before we had reached our minimum scope on the chain (four to one). Back we went to lift the anchor and set further out. Backing from sixty feet, same thing. We tried again, going to seventy five feet in depth before having enough distance from the anchor. Apparently there was a shelf at this end of the bay that put us in shallow water quickly. If we looked at the mountain sides around us, we could imagine how bottom of the bay must look, with steep banks and an occasional cliff.

After securing anchor, Bonnie was the only flotilla member to accept the naturalists invitation to explore the beach. She had a personal tour and recital of flowers, beach grasses, rocks and critters with Brandon and Sean. I followed soon after in our own dinghy. Choosing to follow a creek that paralleled the beach, it led me deeper into the forest, which once again provided evidence of the fact that we were still in a rain forest. The area is part of the “perhumid rainforest zone” in the Tongas National Forest, part of Earth’s largest remaining temperate rainforest. The wet weather all week was further evidence of why you can walk through thick vegetation and see all kinds of plant and animal species in the midst of red cedar, sitka spruce, and western hemlock in spite of the limestone rock and granite underneath. We learned from Sean and Brandon that the trees in these forests got most of their ample moisture not from the rain, but from the mist that so often envelopes them for days or weeks at a time.

Later that night, back on Deception, the story of the loss of the Princess Sophia in October of 1918 was told to us by our naturalist/historian Big Jordan by way of PowerPoint presentation on the ships television monitor. What turned out to be the worst maritime disaster in the history of Alaska and British Columbia, occurred when she was coming back as the last down bound ship from Skagway at the end of the season, and in the middle of the night during a nasty storm. The Sophia found the reef we had passed by earlier in the day, hanging herself high and dry. The captain decided not to launch the lifeboats, one of the few smart yet fatal decisions he made that night, as history suggested the result would be the loss of a number of lifeboats as they were crushed by the sea against other rocks. So they waited. Rescue boats also waited in harbor for relief in the weather, which came the following morning. Unfortunately, by the time they got there, the Sophia had slipped into the ocean along with all of her 75 crew and 268 passengers. Only a single dog survived the cold water and merciless surf.

I think the story was told as part of a theme from the NW Explorations folks. Their initiation documents and briefings all contained examples of highly experienced captains and pilots suffering the harms of a reef, a collision with another ship, an error in navigation or other calamity. The message being you can never let your guard down or become ignorant of your situation at any moment in time. Or to become too confident in your own capabilities.

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William Henry Bay to Haines 34 nm 4 hrs 4 min

Haines, Alaska looked pretty much as we remembered it when we visited by RV more than twenty five years ago. Far enough from Anchorage and not really a cruise ship destination (though it had the dock for it), Haines is principally a fishing village. Fishing boats line the docks of it’s well maintained and equipped marina. Slips are hard to come by, so once again we rafted our boats along four spaces near the breakwater. The skies remained overcast, so with that breakwater, the view of the mountains at the other side of the canal was very limited. To compensate, a couple of eagles chose to perch on the breakwater, just across from Patos. We tried to video one as the other flew off to hunt or wait for fish guts at the other side of the marina, so Jansen could hear and see the bird he had so long imitated from his Alaska audio book.

YouTube Video (opens in new window) ===> Eagle Talk

A lay day was planned so folks could enjoy some of the activities available for visitors. Eric and I chose to try some fly fishing. Well, perhaps I should say, Eric decided to take his father along for the experience. I have to admit, that’s a kind of fishing I could get into, as he has. Our guide had all the equipment, including the waders, and walked us into the Chilkoot river as it waited for the coming onrush of Salmon expected any day. A few casting demonstrations and I got the hang of placing the fly where I wanted (within reason) in the lee of major rocks, below which Dolly Vardon’s were expected to be lounging. Indeed, on three occasions I managed to set the hook on one of those Dolly’s - after more strikes than I probably even knew. Eric was clearly more successful, catching seven of the Dolly’s, including one large keeper that was returned with all the others.

If you want some ambiance and a chance to watch an expert at work, try this video.

I admitted to feeling a little bit like an old man as I struggled for balance against the currents, shuffling from one spot in the river to another. Eric assured me he struggled occasionally, too, as there was technique to maneuvering in little steps with feet lined up parallel to the current. I was just glad to have avoided flushing myself down the river or accidentally hooking our guide with an errant cast - both scenes I had played back in my mind a couple of times as I thought of the ways I could embarrass my son. We both thoroughly enjoyed the three hours standing in cool, swift, Alaskan glacial water working the rhythm of the cast, and vowed to do it again sometime.

Bonnie and Tracy opted to take a jet-boat ride up the Chilkat river to explore the National Eagle Preserve and look for other wildlife. They enjoyed the excitement as the small boats carrying up to twenty passengers sped through the winding river.

The capper of the day was a wonderful meal in an eclectic little restaurant in a converted house adjacent to the old Fort lying at the other end of town. We each had exquisitely prepared meals served by one lady who was caring for all ten or so tables containing mostly locals patrons. Even in small, remote fishing villages, foodies can find gold.

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Haines to Skagway 34 nm 4 hrs 4 min

The final leg, which was to be a short jaunt to the end of the Lynn Canal, would end in Skagway. If Haines was pretty much as we remember it, Skagway was unrecognizable. The first sign of the town were the huge, multi-storied hotels on the water. Three cruise ships were docked just outside our harbor entrance. Because access to the fuel dock was limited, and all of us needed to fuel, we drifted just off to the side of those cruise ships for nearly two hours waiting for our turn. That gave time for cleaning and organizing for our last night on board.

After finding our slip, we walked up the long ramp from the harbor to the road to town. Very quickly it became apparent that commercial interests were at work. One result of being a final destination for cruise ships is that the main street becomes converted into a Disneyland-like series of facade’s intended to depict the history of the area. But once on the other side of that facade, the purpose is revealed. Rows of jewelry cabinets, walls of artwork, knick-knacks and a variety of sugar-ladened snackables lay waiting for purchase.

The main street, and one block in either direction on its tributary’s, filled with released ships passengers. We found the brew pub that had been recommended to us, plump with diners and waiting-to-be diners spilling out into the street. Looking down the street revealed the same waiting lines at all the restaurant options. After finally being awarded a table, we had reasonable burgers and sandwiches, but nothing memorable other than the running waitstaff made up of what we presumed were college students recruited for the summer. It all had the feel of, well, being in a theme park on a cruise ship without being on a cruise ship.

The Day After

The next day, following departure of the ships, the town was empty except for a few straggling tourists like us enjoying the relative quiet. One thing we still did recognize from the past was the train that would take us along the White Pass, following the trail of gold-diggers during the gold rush of 1896. Unfortunately, unlike the last time we took in the breathtaking landscapes, the clouds were low enough to lop off the tops of the mountains from view. Some of the depth and dramatic backdrops were lost, but the old still visible trails and sharp drop-offs from the tracks still gave a feel of what travel must have been like back in the day.

End of the railroad line

That was our final activity before boarding our scheduled 2:00 p.m. flight and leaving the flotilla behind. The marginal weather which, up until now, had not been the least bit bothersome to us, became an critical variable. Alaska Seaplanes, our air carrier for the leg back to Juneau, had been grounded for all but one of their flights the day before, and had not left the ground yet that day. We created plan B, which was to take the ferry instead, which would get us into port late in the evening and without transportation to the hotel. We waited until 12:00 to make the decision to abandon the air option, and learned that one flight had finally made it out of Juneau, and they could find us four seats on it for the return trip - fortunate when you think of all the passengers that had been booked on previous cancelled flights.

After checking on our 198 pounds of baggage (the weight limit for the four of us being 200 pounds), we proceeded to the ramp and the waiting Cessna Caravan. The Caravan is a 12 passenger, single engine turbo-prop workhorse that I’ve wanted to fly in for a number or years. Standing in a group of all boarding passengers, the pilot asked if anyone would want to help him fly in the right seat. My family all pointed their fingers at me, saying “he does,” as I wore my best, “who, me?” face, followed immediately by a boyish grin. They explained that I was a pilot and loved all the buttons and dials.

The pilots shoulders drooped for a moment as he said, “you’re not going to point out all my faults and tell me how I should be flying, are you?”

“Heck no, though I might pepper you with questions,” I said, before explaining that I was just a lowly recreational pilot.

Satisfied, he said,“Good, then you climb in first.”

I started to go around the tail to the left side of the plane. “Hey,” he yelled, “this way,” pointing to the normal passenger stair into the cabin.

My darling and supportive wife said, “he’s kind of like a toddler, you have to corral him when he gets excited.”

You see, in the Otter we had flown on our last visit to Juneau, the only way to the right seat was through the door of the left seat, so I thought the Caravan was similar. I didn’t know there was plenty of space… well maybe not plenty for someone 6’ 4” and 215 pounds… to crawl up between the seats from the passenger cabin into the cockpit. So I wasn’t lost per se - though okay, maybe I was a bit excited.

The flight was a bonus on top of a bonus. The final measure of good luck. I got to hear about and see how these pilots manage low ceilings and other scud, and watch that strange and unique approach into Juneau International Airport. It’s not a straight approach, but rather a dog-leg final that doesn’t let you line up your aircraft on the runway until the last moment because of geological impediments that would make for a very rough landing. Plus I got to look at all those buttons and dials.

The Final Approach into Juneau - not quite lined up yet...

The family borrowed some of that positive energy to pleasantly and patiently get through Alaska Air’s jockeying of our reservations and seats back to Minneapolis. The glow of the past eleven days lasted well into our return.

Postscript

These bareboat chartered flotilla’s through the inside passage are unforgettable. They are a very intimate way to explore the geologies, wildlife, history, towns and waterways, while secure in the comfort and protection of islands and bays, and the always available mechanics and crew of NW Explorations. This venture was quite unlike the one in 2015, even though it just continued the voyage past Juneau. Overcast skies with frequent drizzle gave it a real contrast in environment compared to the almost continuously clear skies of the first. The sea life was less prevalent, though the vast number of sea otters added a new dimension. Instead of fjord-like approaches to the foot of glaciers, we experienced more beaches and tide impacted shorelines. And the tides themselves were much more pronounced, impacting our distance from bottom by as much as twenty feet.

We hope we might have the chance for another leg in the voyage some day. The availability of such great crew is probably less likely, and there are other areas, like the British Columbia waterways to be explored. In the meantime, we’ll have lots of pictures and movie clips to remind us of the wonderful and unique experience of Alaska to keep memories fresh.

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2015 Mother Goose Expedition

A Dream Come True - Cruising Alaska

Voyage? Expedition? Cruise? Whatever. The Mother Goose Flotilla was a ten day exploration of Southeast Alaska from the vantage point of a small boat, done with some help and advice from those who have made the trip many times before. We joined the flotilla, offered by NW Explorations of Bellingham, Washington (http://www.nwexplorations.com/charters/guided-flotillas/2015-mother-goose-to-alaska/) on Leg 2, from Ketchikan to Juneau. This page is copy of a series of posts written during that adventure.

Day 0, Friday, June 12 - Ketchikan

When the kids were much younger, Bonnie and I used to love laying quietly in bed very early on Christmas morning as they gathered at the top of our steep and narrow farmhouse stairs. They waited impatiently, whispering to each other, waiting for the first indication that we were awake. We’d lie there until we heard their impatience was converted into wiggles and stumbles intended to help us from our slumber. Then we’d say good morning to each other as the signal that would send them falling down the stairs as they raced each other into the living room.

That’s the way I felt on this particular morning. My eyes popped open at 5:00 a.m. and I was wide awake. My spouse lay silently by my side, still in deep sleep I supposed. Trying to entertain myself with rehearsals of our departure from the dock, or reviewing the myriad of checklists in my head, I waited. I couldn’t wait. Finally, I brushed her shoulder, only to hear her ask, for the first time of many this day, “are you excited?” Like a kid on Christmas morning, I had to admit I was.

For years I’ve dreamed of this adventure, and it was finally here. Even though I’d been stacking clothes and inventorying equipment we’d need to take with us for two weeks already, I went through everything one more time, adding this and that just in case. By the time we loaded the Jeep, we had two big duffle bags filled to the brim with the maximum weight limit allowed before they would charge us an excess baggage fee. My carry on luggage was just as heavy, pulling my shoulders to the ground as I trudged up the boarding ramp. On the plane I re-read the Navigator’s extensive operating manual, and scanned some of the navigation charts I stored in my iPad. Anything to wile away the time it takes to fly to Ketchikan.

The Navigator is a 42 foot Grand Banks trawler. Grand Banks is the Grand Lady of the cruising world. Reliable construction and mechanics, quality workmanship, unrivaled reputation, but yet unostentatious. We had hired her to teach us how to explore the southeast Alaska coast, starting in Ketchikan and ending in Juneau. Two 315 hp Cummings diesels push us to where the flotilla chooses to go. All the best and most modern navigation equipment will help keep us off the rocks and in the deep water, we trust. This skipper and crew of three will hopefully treat her well, keeping her cushioned from docks, and secure in her moorings.

We were allowed aboard after 5:00 p.m.. For the rest of that evening, I poured over manuals, many for the second time, searched through all the storage cabinets, and transferred luggage into the empty spaces. Bonnie took notes on what provisions to get the next day. We arranged to do our check out first thing the next morning - at 8:00 a.m.. Even with the three hour time difference, it took some time to fall to sleep in anticipation of the next day.

Day 1, Saturday, June 13 - Ketchikan, AK

It took no time to jump out of bed. Even though dawn had just broken, there was no reason to stay in bed past 4:00 a.m.. Too much to anticipate. Beginning with the check-out. The session was projected to take 2 hours or more, including a tour of the boat, description of all the equipment, and review of operating procedures. The final exam was a mariners version of a drivers test. It shouldn’t, but it always produces some apprehension for me. My pre-check-out imagination has me miscalculating my approach to the dock, ramming it and putting a scratch on the hull, or departing before Bonnie has had a chance to let loose the lines, leaving a boat cleat behind, and various other calamities. None came true. It went smoothly, with much thanks to the Grand Banks stability and thrust of the props which provided plenty of control.

Soon after, it was time to pick up our passengers, son Eric and girlfriend Tracy, who had arrived on time from Seattle. We met them at the foot of the ferry dock, tired after having caught the first flights out of Austin and Minneapolis very early in the morning. They were ready to push through, however, excited to explore the metropolis and visit some local outfitting establishments.

There are plenty of outfitting establishments in Ketchikan, most of them geared to a cruising clientele. Cruising as in cruise ship, that is. Even though Ketchikan is Alaska’s fourth largest city, the population is only about 14,000 - before the cruise ships drop by. Then the population grows an additional 10,000. Thats about 900,000 visitors over the season. The ships, up to five at a time, glide in and out at all hours, depositing their cargo for around 8 hours each. Just enough time to float through all the shops, fly out on a floatplane for a arial view of Misty Fjords National Park, or eat a meal in the many average restaurants. Young kids, girls mostly, holding stop signs control busy traffic across the one highway that travels through town, ushering visitors across crosswalks.

Some of those shops were downright creepy. Foreign voices would call out from long displays of jewelry offering a free gift or other come-on tactics that reminded us of the casbah’s in Morocco. The jewelry was not even very unique. Shop after shop, all next to each other, with historic looking store-fronts.

We finished our day of shopping, preparing, and stowing with a dinner of really fresh tuna, lobster, prawns, oysters, and, of course, king crab in a restaurant overlooking the town and the one remaining cruise ship, which happened to be from Disney. The town was now virtually empty, as though someone had rolled up the sidewalks. We were ready to leave it for waters unknown to us.

Day 2, June 14 Meyers Chuck

Cast off was to be at 8:00 a.m.. That means that the NW Explorations crew, all five members from the lead boat named Deception, fanned out and released the five boats of the flotilla between 7:45 and 8:00, with Deception the last to leave the dock at no later than 8:00. We were ready by 7:15. We had had breakfast, wiped down the bridge from dew, vacuumed the cabin, topped off the water tanks, prepped the lines and fenders for departure. By 20 minutes before 8:00, I started the engines, remembering the 7:45 start time. They idled for 15 minutes as we were the second from the last boat scheduled to leave the dock. A little anxious and excited? Maybe.

Passing by the Airport

Working our way up the Tongass Narrows, we passed the airport, which is on the island located on the west side of the narrows. A ferry trip is required for anyone arriving by air. On the east side we passed a container dock, and two more harbors filled with fishing boats. That made for lots of traffic to keep track of, which was easy with the AIS feature on our chart plotter. It shows all traffic, including their heading, speed, and name of vessel. We could even track our own boats and their progress. Modern technology sure is helpful to navigation.

As we left the narrows, the headwinds we were facing started to generate some waves. Spray developed, covering the bow and trying to penetrate the portals. An occasional wave would reach back Navigators flanks, depositing sea salt all along the rails. From the bridge, however, all was dry, and we basked in the unforecasted sun, even though the temperature was still in the lower 60’s.

Navigator was steady in the seas as we crossed the Behm Canal and approached Clarence Peninsula when we saw our first Humpback whale. The spouts of water in the distance was the first clue, and with a slap of the tail, they were gone. We felt lucky to have seen at bit of them on our first day. It’s certainly never guaranteed.

Meyers Chuck appeared in the binoculars just after noon. We navigated the rocky entrance, making sure to follow Deceptions exact path along the shore and through the harbor entrance markers. Meyers Chuck is a small, well protected fishing village of less than 25 residents. Several summer cottages dot its shoreline, along with the homes and docks of a few commercial fisherman. Most structures are made by the residents, with many of the raw materials home grown. We even saw a personal saw mill that made construction lumber for his home and storage structures.

With limited space on one lone dock, we rafted four of our six vessels, and anchored the remaining two. Navigator was placed on the outside of the second row after a smooth landing. We could easily step across Aquila, our neighboring boat, on the swim platforms to get to the dock, minimizing our intrusion. Aquila is the same boat model as Navigator, the smallest of the fleet. Next is a 47 foot Classic, Telita, a 47 foot Europa, Eldean, and finally a 52 foot Europa, Ajax. The principle difference between Classics and Europa’s is that Classics have an aft cabin, and Europa’s have all cabins mid-ship and forward.

There are no resources in Meyers Chuck, other than the Gallery. Yep, an art gallery full of pieces of Alaskan handicraft available for sale. Who figured? Several of our flotilla mates, my first mate included, were motivated to help the local economy, and since there was no fish market or bait shop, this was the only option.

Following a potluck appetizer get together on Deception, Bonnie took me on a dingy ride to catch the sunset, which was hiding behind an island that protected Meyers Chuck. We caught the sun just as it was sinking into the sea in bright oranges and blues. A sight to behold.

Day 3, Monday, June 15 - Berg Bay

The time change has made for very early mornings. On this morning, we slept in - to 5:30 a.m.. Shortly after drinking our morning orange juice and reading the daily briefing, we spied a lady in a row boat paddling up alongside Navigator. She was looking for the lead boat to deliver the ordered Butter Crosses, a cinnamon roll-like pastry. Brian, our flotilla captain, had ordered two crosses for each Mother Goose gosling. What a treat.

Because we were last on, we were first off of the dock raft, and asked to “hang around” the entry until all the boats were underway. The process of docking and undocking is very specific, with the Deception crew providing instructions and whatever help needed to tie up or cast off safely, regardless of the skill of the boat skipper and crew. It looks a little bit like a boat dance as we wait in the harbor for permission to approach or depart. If they see a less than ideal approach or departure,they provide specific operating instructions. “Port engine ahead, starboard reverse, all stop, okay, all ahead both for just a second.” Or they’re always available for advice and tips. I’ve learned quite a few new and helpful techniques already.

As we rounded the point outside Meyers Chuck and entered Union Bay, we saw our second whale sighting. Approaching slowly, five Humpbacks would spout off for a minute or two, and then submerge for five or so minutes before reappearing I another part of the bay. One of them appeared to be a calf, with a significantly shorter back that would extend above the water on occasion. We watched for about 15 minutes before they moved too far out of the bay to be seen clearly. The fleet had spread out a bit, with three of us already at the edge of the bay, and three closer into shore. Two of those close into shore hung around a bit, hoping the whales would return their direction.

And boy, did they. As we watched while under way in our binoculars, they had a front row seat to a spectacular show. The whales began breaching and slapping their tales, all five playing, frolicking, cleaning themselves, or whatever it is they do when they come completely out of the water and crash back into the sea. Even from a distance, it was spectacular.

Moving up the Ernst Sound, through Seward Passage, and into the Blake Channel, classic Alaskan views were everywhere. Snow capped mountains, kelp along the shores at low tide, rocks and islands, and crab pots. Crab pots everywhere as we approached our destination of Berg Bay. This was the first day of crab fishing season, and the fishing boats were busy. To get to our anchor site, we serpentined around them.

This was to be our first anchor raft. The lead boat establishes a base by tying a line to shore as it hangs off its anchor. Then two of the fleet attaches to one or the other of his sides, and then the next, and the next, all in a row. After all boats are secured to each other, and additional shoreline and additional anchor is set to each end boat. The raft is set to weather any storm.

The afternoon was good for hiking through the bog and up to a tidal marsh. Southeast Alaska is largely a rain forest - the largest in North America, by far. Home to Misty Fjords National Park, the entire Tongass National Forest is essentially a rain forest, getting up to 300 inches of rain per year. On average, these sea towns like Ketchikan get an average of 150 inches, or twelve feet of rain, each year. All this rain is evident in the bogs, home to the skunk cabbage plant, a hold over from the dinosaur age evident throughout. Huge leaves that are full of nutrients, which is why they are one of the first food sources for bears when they emerge from hibernation.

Much of the tree growth in these bogs is stunted because of the excessively acidic nature of the soil, brought on by so my moisture and vegetation. The soft and fragile ground caused the U.S. Forest Service to build protective boardwalks for visitors to use to get to special locations like the tidal marsh that was our destination. The forest opened up to this marsh, which extended a big distance in all directions. Trails, tracks, and scat gave evidence to the moose, deer, and bear that frequent the area. Much of the tree growth in these bogs is stunted because of the excessively acidic nature of the soil, brought on by so my moisture and vegetation. The soft and fragile ground caused the U.S. Forest Service to build protective boardwalks for visitors to use to get to special locations like the tidal marsh that was our destination. The forest opened up to this marsh, which extended a big distance in all directions. Trails, tracks, and scat gave evidence to the moose, deer, and bear that frequent the area. Unfortunately, we saw none.

Day 4, Tuesday, June 16 - Wrangell, AK

Berg Bay is just across the channel from Wrangell Island, so our trek this day took us the relatively short distance up the eastern passage and around the top of the island to the logging town of Wrangell. While both of the mainstay economic industries for Southeast Alaska, fishing and logging, are present, logging was predominate in Wrangell’s past, until legislation shut it down in the 80’s. Since then, regulations have loosened somewhat, allowing extraction by helicopter but still prohibiting trucks and roads, but not enough to rejuvenate the industry. Once nearly the size of Ketchikan, the population is now less than 2,000. Fishing boats are everywhere on the harbor-side, along with the proverbial ferry dock. We found a long dock in the south harbor to hold all of the fleet. A disadvantage of this harbor was its distance from town - about a mile and a half by foot.

Following the Deception Crew between Harbors

But only half a mile by water. So Bonnie and I dropped the dinghy for a quick trip from South Harbor to North Harbor, which was directly in town, to do some grocery shopping. Eric and Tracy opted to take the walk. They were the smart ones. Since we arrived, the sea had whipped up a bit, making for a bumpy ride. After searching for a bit, we found the prescribed dinghy landing, and enjoyed our walk through the modest town. It had a few touristy gift stores, but the community had decided not to solicit the cruise ships to keep it principally a working and local town - avoiding the trappings of the likes of Ketchikan. Eric and Tracy helped us carry the grocery’s back to the boat. We were due back by 2:00 p.m. to catch the jet boat scheduled for the group, so we had no time to waste. The seas had built even a bit more, so the two of them got soaked. Bonnie laughed hard as the dinghy slammed into some of the waves, sending water down the sides upon which Eric and Tracy were sitting. They were not as amused though it was a bit of payback for Eric soaking Bonnie on a ride he was navigating the day before. It reminded me of a dinghy ride on Lake Superior those many years ago when I first met Bonnie. She laughed hard then, too. But that’s a story for another time.

The jet boat trip took us up the Stikine River to the Shakes Glacier. It was quite some distance, across the Eastern Passage, through the large river delta to the mainland and up toward Canada. The trip was made much faster by the use of this kind of boat, equipped with underwater jets rather than props pushing the boats to up to 40 mph. With the sea, that made for some pounding on the relatively flat hulls. The boat Eric and Tracy were on was actually a workboat, used for carrying kayaks, hikers and their gear, and cargo into the backcountry. Never mind - it still went more than 30 mph. That speed was maintained into the twisting and winding river, making for an amusement-park like ride.

Along the way, we saw a small number of cabins built on floats anchored to shore or just off shore. Because this is a national wilderness area, no mechanized tools or equipment are permitted. No chain saws, no generators, nothing powered by a motor of any sort. And no land available for development. In other words, no homes, cabins, or structures can be built. The work-around is that nothing prohibits boats with motors from venturing up the river, or any floating structures from anchoring along shore. With up to thirty foot tide swings, that can be a tricky proposition, but the locals find a way.

At the end of this part of the river was a Shakes Glacier. The boats snaked through small ice bergs dotting the bay in front of the glacier. At the end, the boat Eric and Tracy were in ran quickly across the face of it. The boat Bonnie and I were in, with a more conventional tour boat layout, drifted about 100 yards back. Our driver explained that if the glacier were to shed a calf of ice, that ice could submerge and reappear with incredible force, and he wanted to be some distance away to avoid being pierced or capsized. He also explained that his associate was the owner of the company, and was moving fast enough that he could escape that potential event. I was not so sure.

We returned late that afternoon and celebrated with a fantastically delicious dinner of Nasi Goreng, setting us up for another wonderful early-to-bed nights sleep.