I well remember the day, shortly after we had built our first and only new home, when Mike said, “Let’s sell everything, buy a boat and sail around the world.” Thinking, “Are you CRAZY?” and “You watch way too much YouTube,” but trying to be diplomatic, I simply said, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” After some arguments, some pouting, and some calmer, rational thought, we eventually decided to take a boating class with a captain on a boat for two days, just to see if we liked it. At the end of that time, I could begin to see the possibility of boating, but no possibility (for me at least) of leaving everything behind and living perpetually on a boat. You know how that story ended: We purchased a boat, and for the last 6 summers, we have enjoyed cruising in the Pacific Northwest.

We have enjoyed the process of learning new skills. We have developed teamwork, as a 42 foot trawler requires both of us to manage the many facets of cruising. We have grown in ability and in confidence, and we have learned what NOT to do in many situations (sometimes the hard way). Through it all, we’ve developed as individuals, as a couple, and as boat hosts to the many friends who joined us for a few days or a week aboard Voyager. What a special experience to share!

This year as we cruised north to Alaska, we suspected that it could be the last time we will make this journey. That premonition made the trip even sweeter, and we enjoyed [almost] every minute of it. As we neared the end of the trip, we both agreed that yes, this was the time to let go and sell our beautiful boat. Why? Many reasons. We have family and a community at home that we love dearly. We have 4, count ’em, 4! grandchildren. They don’t stop growing and developing while we’re gone, and we have missed out on months of their precious sayings and antics. We just don’t want to miss out on any more, and we don’t want them to miss out on our sayings and antics either! So there you have it. It’s been a really great run, but it’s time to focus on other things. There is some sadness at leaving something good behind, but there will be lots of joy ahead. This change in direction has been the result of weighing and contemplating the options, and choosing the greater of two goods. We love boating, but we LOVE our family more.

And so, this blog also draws to a close. It has been fun to share our adventures and mishaps, and our writings will be a fun way to remember, as we re-read them in the future. I can hear us now: “Gosh, did we really do that?” Yes, we did, and I am so glad that we did.

We are now no longer in Alaska, but we had some experiences there that we haven’t recorded yet.   Lest we forget, it’s time to remember the last part of the Alaskan journey, and get it written down.  Our time in Glacier Bay was over, and it was time to make a decision:  Shall we go back the way we came, stopping at favorite spots, and some new spots, or shall we take an entirely different route on our way South?  Which choice do you think won out?  That’s right… we opted for a new experience.  Upon emerging from Glacier Bay, we decided to turn right instead of left.  As we proceeded into Icy Strait, there was strong current running.  Mike was hand steering the boat through the tide rips and whirlpools, and doing a fine job.  A large humpback swam right across our track, not far from the bow.  Always on the lookout for wildlife, we took this as confirmation that we had made the right choice.

As I have mentioned, the current was running strong in the strait, and it was also strong among these small islands which lie just on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. The current was giving us quite a speed boost as we nosed through the Inian Islands. Suddenly, we were in Wild Kingdom! On our right, we saw teeming, tumbling masses of sea lions, swimming and hunting, while on the shore other sea lions roared and growled. At the same time, on our left side, a pod of humpbacks was blowing, squealing, swimming and feeding. Following the whales were porpoises, catching the leftovers from the whales. The porpoises were followed by more sea lions. Flying above them all were the seagulls and a few puffins, also looking for an easy lunch. There was a whole food chain happening right in front of us! We could only imagine what was going on below the surface. It was thrilling!

The current pushed us out of the islands and we made our way to the quiet little town of Elfin Cove. The place is aptly named, because it is enchanting. It isn’t really town-like, but more of a long, circular trail bordering a cove. Part of the trail is through the forest, and part is boardwalk, which leads past houses and a few small businesses. Tucked here and there along the trail, and in people’s yards, are all kinds of elves. Some are large, some are tiny, some are slightly risqué. It is a surprise to come upon them while walking the path around the cove. There are fishing boats in the cove, as this is a big area for both sport fishing and commercial fishing. The store was small, and didn’t have much that we needed, but it was fun to be greeted by the friendly store dog.

Back on Voyager, we continued down the coast, while salmon were jumping like crazy all around the boat. The pinks were running, and they characteristically jump out of the water while on their migration to spawn. Some sources say that they jump to rid themselves of sea lice that attach themselves to the fish. Others say it’s to escape predators. But what it looks like is a competition to see who can jump the highest. Some jump 6 feet straight up, some go sideways 5 or 6 times like a skipping stone, some keep jumping until they obviously just can’t do one more jump. We told them that they were welcome to jump on our boat, but somehow, they managed to miss us.

Arriving in Pelican, we felt like we were truly in an old Alaskan village.  Again, there were both commercial and sport fishing boats on the docks.  In the evenings, the chartered fishing boats would return from their day, and unload the fish into wheelbarrows.  They would end up outside the hotel where they would line up all the fish on the boardwalk outside the hotel.  These men from all over the United States, who had flown in for an extended fishing trip, were standing with puffed out chests like proud schoolboys, as the pictures were taken of each man’s catch.  They stood around telling stories about the day, and the big one that got away, and the shark that tried to steal the fish…  That was one facet of Pelican.  Then there was the fish processing plant, where the commercial boats would unload their holds full of fish, fill up with fuel, and turn around to go fish again.  The hardworking fishermen don’t waste a minute of the season, and I have nothing but admiration for the way they go out in all weather conditions to work while they can.

The town of Pelican consists mainly of one wide boardwalk about half a mile long.  There is a grocery store with food staples, a post office, harbormaster’s office, a fuel station, a breakfast/lunch coffee shop, a bar/pizza parlor for dinners, a small library, and way down at the end of the dock, a K-12 school.  Last year the school had 8 students.  The few year-round residents are hearty, salt of the earth, hardworking people.  Without exception, everyone we met there said hello, looked you in the eye, and were open to friendly conversation, unless they were on a 4-wheeler, whizzing up or down the boardwalk.  Then you’d better just get out of the way!  We enjoyed our glimpse of Alaskan life, and realized that we have it pretty easy at home in Murphys.

Heading north once more to round Chichagof Island and make our way down the east side, we studied the guidebook as we contemplated making the passage through Rocky Pass to get to our route.  The book described Rocky Pass as a shallow, rocky passage, marked by buoys to guide boats through a winding route, containing a section of dredged, narrow channel to go through.  Then we heard from other boaters that some of the buoys were missing, or misplaced!  In addition, the Coast Guard does not recommend this passage, and has made a statement that they won’t come rescue you if you run aground there. Basically, if you’re brave or foolhardy enough to go that way, you’re on your own!  I was a bit nervous about this.  But Mike was confident that with our charts and our depth finder, we’d be able to navigate the challenging passage.  That man does love a challenge! 

Our plan was to go through the passage, then cruise around the West side of Prince of Wales Island.  We would be able to take inland passages most of the way, but there would be some “outside” time in the ocean, and we would end up with a longer big-ocean passage at the end, when we made the run from the tip of the island to Prince Rupert, where we would enter Canada.  I was trusting that we would have some good weather for that crossing (another challenge).

As we approached Rocky Pass, we found the first buoy, and up ahead we spotted the second one:  Red buoys on the left, green buoys on the right.  Taking a big gulp, off we went.  We did find that some buoys were missing from their broken-down platforms.  We did find that the dredged passage was narrow and shallow.  We did see rocks sticking out everywhere just to the sides of our “path.”  But in the end, we did just fine, taking it slow, checking our charts, watching the depth finder, and me on deck keeping a bow watch at times.  We made it!  Then we looked at each other and said, “I’ve seen worse…”  I guess that’s what a little experience will do for you.

We entered El Capitan passage on a rainy day, with clouds obscuring the scenery.  It is named El Capitan because of its similarity to Yosemite, and the big cliffs there.  We were sorry to not see any of it, but we did stop and hike 370 stairsteps up to the entrance to El Capitan Cave.  This cave is the deepest cave in Alaska, and we had never heard of it.  Tours are given by arrangement, but not on the day we were there, so we just poked our heads inside.

Eventually, we rounded the tip Prince of Wales Island.  The next morning was calm, and so we left as the sun rose, at 4:30 in the morning, waking a sleeping humpback whale as we left the cove.  Our crossing was safe and uneventful.  As we checked in to Prince Rupert, Canada, we began to get the feeling that it was time to go home!

-beth

This should be a title that gets some attention.  I can’t think of a more fear inducing picture than being stuck at sea in a storm.  Remember the Perfect Storm?  How can I forget?  There is part of me that wants to see the movie again, but I already have recurring nightmares of the tiny boat against a very big, raging ocean.  George Clooney and his mates all died…

In case you are just joining us, we are a couple of rookies at retirement and on a boat. Part of the fun has been the learning curve.  Well, most of the time.  We’ve covered the waterfalls, wildlife, and sunsets, but in this installment, let’s talk about the scary stuff – storms.   While we’ve gained important experience, we really have very little.  Since having been aboard this year for 85 days and considering the territory we’ve covered, a storm or two, even though it is summer, would be normal.  We have had two significant overnight storms.  They both were predicted well in advance and for us, they occurred at the same location – one on the way up the north coast of British Columbia and one on the way south. 

Just to clarify, we are not ‘at sea’.  On the Inside Passage to Alaska, there is always a place to anchor, whether it’s a real port or just a small cleft out of the wind, waves and current.  The cliché, “any port in a storm” maybe true if you are out at sea, but a good seaman still has a lot to consider about what ‘port’ to choose…  In both of these storms, I didn’t do so well.  These were tense all-nighters watching as the 47mph gusts buffeted us about.

In the first episode, it was just a poor second choice anchor spot – exposed and against the lee shore.  In the second storm, having learned from the first, we picked a better place, but didn’t anticipate how the wind would so severely drive us into the shallows.  Imagine with me heading to bed knowing you are well prepared, thinking the storm really was exaggerated in the forecast.  And after just drifting into REM sleep, a splash of water from a window six feet away hits your face.  Oh, I am awake now!  The wind is in fact blowing and the boat has one foot of water under the keel!  It is midnight and we have to pull up the anchor, move to deeper water and reset the thing.  As if the darkness and the driving storm aren’t challenge enough, four other boats have taken refuge nearby. With Beth at the helm keeping us into the wind and off the shore, I was on the bow raising the seaweed fouled chain and anchor.  We simply don’t run at night because it is so disorienting.  But since we have done this routine many, many times we both knew what to do.  “I could do this in the dark”, is an expression I won’t be saying anymore since I may actually have to at some time.  Needless to say, we did it!  It could have been an episode of ‘Deadliest Catch’, full of drama and adrenaline.  (We did meet the camera guy for the famous crab boat show earlier this summer before his fall filming further north in the Bering Sea).  The rest of the night was spent watching to see if the newly placed anchor would hold…

Sorry. There are no pictures of the storm…

What are some ‘lessons learned’ here? Without being too detailed, there are some big take aways.  For example: I don’t think we would have done very well without the ability to communicate.  Beth simply could not see. Outside I was able to tell where we needed to go, but even in the howling wind and rain we could speak in a ‘normal’ voice because we use headsets. And we trust each other. Then when it really matters – have an anchor you can trust.  Our boat came with one, but we upsized.  It is too big most of the time, but on these two nights it was just the thing. 

A friend of ours gave us a picture she had thoughtfully put together as we set off on the boat.  Kathy must have known that a good anchor would be needed.  In life, is there an anchor you can trust?  Storms are inevitable.  Planning and preparation are essential and like us in the night, we all do our best.  (Adrenaline helps too…) But when it your turn for ‘sleepless in The Storm’, trust in the One who said, “I will never leave or forsake you”.  I might have missed some sleep in the storm, but hearing and knowing that everything will be okay is the main thing.

In the Eye of the Storm. Do you know this song? We’ve been humming it the past few days… If you’re interested, you can go to YouTube and listen. It’s by Ryan Stevenson.

Take Care

-mike

The dawn sky marked a waypoint in our summer this morning.  Though we have been traveling southward for the past week, today is the day that we will actually leave Alaska and cross into Canadian waters.  Our current anchorage is about 12 hours away from Prince Rupert Harbor, where we will check in with the Canadian Customs office. This will be an open ocean crossing, and we are grateful to be making the voyage on a very good weather day.  Alaska holds such a place in our hearts that it’s hard to leave.  On the other hand, home and family are even dearer to us, and we look forward to being back.  How fortunate we are to have two places to call home!

On our way out of the bay this morning, I think we woke up a snoozing humpback whale. Our first indication was a glistening mass of whale back, moving away from the bow of the boat, followed by a magnificent display of flukes as he took a deep dive right in front of us! We gave thanks for the gift, and found ourselves fully awake.

As we proceeded, we saw some porpoises splashing in the distance, and wished that they would come escort us. And guess what? A couple of them broke from the group to come swim in our bow wake. Whales and porpoises all in the first hour! A good day ahead…

We have been out of cell coverage areas for much of the last three weeks, which prohibits us from posting on the blog. I’ll update with a few highlights, and Mike will cover others: Glacier Bay is a place we wanted to return to, because we had such a fabulous time there in 2021. We had to stage up for a timed entrance to the park, to receive our mandatory park briefing. The day before, we had cruised to an anchorage a couple of hours from the entrance. On the way, I pointed out a patch of seaweed in the water to Mike, who was driving. Sometimes rocks and shallow patches are covered with seaweed, and we’ve learned that Alaska is so vast that the navigational charts aren’t always complete, so we are always on the lookout for uncharted hazards.

As we drew closer, the seaweed started moving, and we realized we were looking at a huge group of sea otters and their young! They often raft up together, presumably for safety. These otters wanted to know what in the world was going on, and all over the patch, they started poking their heads way up to look at us quizzically, before taking a leaping dive into the water. They looked for all the world like a child’s Whak-a-mole game. They were curious, but not taking any chances. We gave them plenty of room, and so we have no pictures to share other than little blobs in the distance. But these have to be some of the cutest mammals to watch as they carry their babies on their stomachs, or tumble over and over in the water, taking turns breathing. It was great to see such large numbers of them, and we weren’t even to the park yet. On top of that, while at our anchorage we accidentally caught a halibut!

OK, here’s the story. In our big boat, we have no means of trolling effectively. To stay at a proper speed when trolling for salmon, we wear our headsets. Mike fishes from the stern, breathing in the diesel fumes, while I am in the pilot house maintaining the slow trolling speed by putting the engine in and out of gear, to maintain speed and keep us off the rocks. Meanwhile, Mike is offering helpful instruction through the headset. This method hasn’t been very effective, I’m afraid. But while at anchor on this day, the current was running past us at 2 knots (about trolling speed). Mike thought he’d just throw out a salmon lure and fish the lazy-man way, without the aroma of diesel. Almost immediately, he had a bite, and reeled in our halibut surprise! You see, halibut are bottom fish, but we were in shallow water, so the lure got close to the bottom, and BAM, halibut for dinner!

But to get back to Glacier Bay, one fond memory from our first trip there, was sharing our anchorage with a group of whales who were so close to our boat that we could hear them breathing – all night long! It was like being a part of their family, and we hoped to see “our” whales again. Sadly, it seems they were hanging out somewhere else this year. Rather than being disappointed, we told ourselves that each visit is different, and has its own special moments. This turned out to be true. We enjoyed another of our favorites: Puffins. These sporty little birds are very colorful, but very shy, so again no pictures. With our binoculars, we searched the cliffs and found a mother mountain goat with her kid, comfortably perched right on the edge of a steep rocky crag. We’ll spare you the pictures of little white blobs on the faraway cliff. We saw bears a couple of times, and we had a whale or two in some of our anchorages, but they didn’t come near us.

One amazing feature of Glacier Bay is the array of snow-covered mountain peaks, and the variety of glaciers. This gorgeous scenery is often obscured by clouds or fog. We were fortunate to have some clear days, so we saw sights that were hidden from us on our first trip. Reid Glacier was one of these places. We were able to stay right in Reid Bay (it’s unusual to anchor near the glaciers because the water is many hundreds of feet deep, but we found a shallower cove). As we were anchoring, I was wondering what all that color was on the distant shore. The binoculars revealed a mass of gorgeous wildflowers. Being a flower lover, I could hardly wait to get the kayak down and go to shore to check them out. I couldn’t believe the variety and sizes of the flowers. Fireweed, giant lupine and Paintbrush in a variety of colors, with blossoms that were almost the size of tennis balls! There were other flowers that were new to me. It was an amazing garden! Also amazing was the bear scat I came across here and there in the garden. Armed with only a kayak paddle, prudence won out, and I reluctantly decided to return to the boat.

Reid Glacier and the mountains surrounding it were magically beautiful. This glacier featured some ice caves right at the water’s edge. They were deep turquoise and mysterious, causing us to want to see more. At low tide, we took our kayaks to the head of the bay, and trekked up the alluvial glacial deposits (another name for very fine, stick-to-everything, boot-sucking, mucky mud), and tried to get close to the caves. We weren’t quite able to cross the stream between us and the cave, so we didn’t get to shine a light inside, but we got to hear the creaking, cracking and gunshot-like bangs of the glacier compressing on its slow move down the mountain. On our way back to the boat, we fished out some small ice bergs to chip up and use in beverages. A whale was swimming in our cove when we returned. It just boggles the mind to think that we could experience a day like this – an ordinary day in Glacier Bay.

Will we ever return here, to Glacier Bay and to Alaska? These are the thoughts I have as I leave. Time will tell, but I sure hope so. If not, we will forever count ourselves blessed to have had this “up close and personal” experience.

-beth

I stand on the side of our boat, looking down into the water. A flash of silver catches my eye, and then is gone before I can focus on it. Another flash, and another. These are herring, fish related to sardines, but very much out of the can. The water is pulsing with these silver-sided fish! Sometimes while kayaking, we drift through schools of them swimming together. They turn this way and that in seemingly choreographed movement. Any small motion or shadow of my paddle will cause them to swiftly turn together in a spectacular flash of liquid silver. In the evenings, the herring seem to enjoy jumping clear out of the water. Perhaps it’s to catch a bug, or to escape the jaws of a hungry seal, or maybe just for the joy of leaping. We see these fish in all sizes, from about 3 inches, up to about 10 inches. They are plentiful, and that’s a good thing.

Herrings are near the bottom of the food chain here.  Other fish eat them, seals, sea lions, dolphins, and otters eat them, eagles and ravens snatch them from the water, even humans catch and prepare them for eating:  pickled, packed in sour cream, canned…  And of course, they are a popular bait used by fishermen.

The creatures who are the most organized in hunting herring are the whales. In a spectacular display of team work the whales execute a feat called bubble net feeding. It works like this: The whales swim in a circle around a large school of herring, narrowing the circle, and forcing the fish close together. Then the whales swim straight up through the mass of herring with their mouths wide open, catching bucketloads of fish in their mouths on the way up. Bubble net feeding is really something to behold, unless you’re a herring.

Here’s a question to ponder:  Does the entire ocean ecosystem depend upon herring?  Could any other species of fish serve so many purposes?   Herrings are so plentiful that we may not give them the honor they are due.  I propose a National Herring Day, or perhaps even International.  Just think of the ways we could celebrate!  Who’s with me?

We had always heard that the Fourth was celebrated in a big way in rural Alaska. This description had us leave Petersburg only to return a week later, so as to not miss the fun. It’s a big deal to ‘backtrack’. In fact, I get teased about my tendency to never go back and sometimes even just pulling over is hard when the destination is still ahead. I do ask for directions if it is convenient, well maybe. (This is a topic for another day, read about the rowboats below for an example).

What impresses me about these travels is really a continuation of the Divine timing or serendipity blog. These magic moments continue to follow us. The backstory is that I was becoming increasingly concerned about the alternator on the boat. It has been a trusty little thing that does way more than what it was designed to do. Every morning after the boat has been at anchor all night sucking power from the batteries, this small, almost car sized alternator would attempt to fill ten big batteries. I always check the temperature of things in the engine room and the alternator was doomed to fail at such high heat. I ordered a beefy replacement about a week earlier that was flown into Petersburg. The parts place did a great job putting together everything I needed. The only snafu was that the pulley was wrong and needed to be changed. The helpful Napa guy in Petersburg did this for me free of charge. All of this could be chalked up to ‘life on the boat’, but the fun part was standing in line in the auto parts place. How is this fun, you ask? It was a Divine appointment with a guy who had a bad alternator in his hand. I told him to come see me… I now had a spare alternator that was the exact match for his. After some great conversation about his family and their summer, he gave us halibut and his favorite lure. (Something about ‘teach a man to fish’ and he too will have fish…) He was delighted to have his problem solved too. I had not been good with the fishing thing thus far, so trading spare parts for fish was a gift to us – a joyful thing.

All of this occurred leading up to the Fourth of July. With the boat repairs complete, we were able to fit into the crowded docks and enjoy what really is a two-day series of many events. The adults were acting like kids with a herring toss contest, (No fish were harmed in the process, they were already dead). I asked where the hand sanitizer was and got a funny look and a question in response,“you’re not from here, are you?”

A blindfolded rowboat race was my favorite since this involved a good deal more than rowing skill. The rower is blindfolded, usually the man. The woman gives the directions since she can see and is generally good at this. On the other hand, men aren’t so good at receiving directions. I think you are beginning to get the picture. This is hilarious since many of the directions consist of ‘your left, my right – or is it port and starboard’? In the heat of the race much of the communication is with frantic gestures. All of which goes unseen by the blindfolded rower.

The 3^rd of July had the whole community out on the main street and the day culminated with fireworks. In Alaska the night sky is too light until 11:00 pm. Kids were everywhere. Summer is in session. As a kid, I never got to ride my bike around town at mid-night. All that remained for the actual 4^th was the big parade. It’s a small town, so they go around the block twice.

God bless America.  Home of the brave and the land of the free.  It’s true here in Alaska.

-mike

This is our second time in Alaska.  The first time was during the Covid 19 pandemic in 2021.  Because of health concerns, many safeguards had been put in place:  Facemasks in many locations, no shore stops while transiting Canada, many stores closed until further notice.  We didn’t mind so much, because we actually enjoy isolating, especially on our boat.  We had plenty of the essentials:  food, diesel fuel for the engine and the heater, good books and of course, each other.  The scenery doesn’t care if there’s a pandemic.  It is constant in its beauty year after year.  So is the abundant wildlife.  We had a great trip!

This year, there are some differences.  People are glad to be out again, and they are hungry for nature and adventure just like we are.  We have noticed many more pleasure boats this year, both large and small.  And the cruise ships!  There are many.  They don’t bother us, but it is kind of shocking to see a floating hotel in pristine, isolated places, where usually you feel like you’re alone.  We don’t begrudge people their time on the water.  It’s a wonderful way to travel and much better than watching a travelogue on TV.  It’s also nice to see the stores open, and the local people who make a living from tourism back in business.

In Ketchikan we were amazed to see five cruise ships at the docks, where two years ago there were none. It certainly makes for a hopping place, compared to last time. We had quite a surprise one morning while sleeping in our berth at the downtown dock. We were awakened to the sound of water, which isn’t unusual, but it seemed the volume was TURNED WAY UP. The water sounded like it was rushing through a hole in the boat’s hull. We both leaped out of bed, instantly alert and searching. Down went Mike into the engine room. I began looking into dark corners and feeling for unseen leaks. The sound of water lapping is usually so soothing, but this was terrifying, because we thought we might be experiencing a sinking event! Eventually, after finding nothing amiss on Voyager, we turned our eyes outward to the harbor. A huge cruise ship was docking, using its bow and stern thrusters to bring it slowly to its spot on the dock. Now, Voyager has a bow thruster, which we use sparingly when we need to bring the bow left or right in a tight docking situation. Our little thruster doesn’t compare to the powerful thrusters on the cruise ship, though. These thrusters were moving water through the entire marina. The movement couldn’t be seen on the surface, but you could hear it moving under the boat. It sure gave us our thrill for the day!

It may be hard to believe, but not every day is pleasurable on the boat. It usually has more to do with a person’s attitude than the place or the events or the weather. One morning I woke up and was simply homesick. I was missing my kids and grandkids. I was missing the flowers in my garden and the friends in my neighborhood. I was working myself into a pretty good funk as we were motoring along, when suddenly I was distracted by the sight of torpedoes coming through the water toward our boat! Laying aside my somber mood for just a moment, I stepped out on deck to discover that the torpedoes were dolphins racing to our boat to play in the bow wave. They swam amazingly fast, crisscrossing each other in front of the boat, and sometimes shooting out different directions like fireworks. We were clapping and shouting “woo-hoo! You’re beautiful!” They seemed to enjoy our praise and kept at it for a few minutes, until by some unseen signal, they all took off in unison to parts unknown. I looked around for my funk and just couldn’t find it.

Later on, as I was driving the boat so that Mike could throw a fishing line in the water, we could hear the sound of whales breathing as they swam around our fishing area. We love that sound. The slow, measured whoosh of air from these huge but graceful mammals just instills peacefulness. That is until someone yells, “Fish on!” Two halibut and two rockfish later, we headed back to our anchorage to join friends who had prepared dessert aboard their boat. After some great conversation we called it an evening, and came back to Voyager to finish cleaning up the fishing equipment. I didn’t even bother to look for my funk. I do still miss my loved ones, but I’ve had a change of attitude. Change can be good.

-beth

Have you ever tried to describe a picture or a place to someone, but found that words are inadequate? This is the challenge I run into with this blog. How can I convey the experience of arriving at a spot that is so beautiful it brings a tear to the eye? Especially after a long day of travel in the boat, it is an other-worldly experience to shut off the drone of the engine, and in the silence, fully soak in and appreciate surroundings so lovely you couldn’t have dreamed them up. The gratitude wells up, and the soul is filled. But this isn’t the only delight.

We had a busy and fun start up to our travels this year: First there was a Krogen boat owners’ rendezvous that we attended in Sidney, British Columbia. Krogen owners tend to be very down-to-earth cruising types. Helpful, friendly, full of stories, these people do not fit the stereotype of the snobby yachter. These rendezvous are where we find helpful tips ranging from Krogen idiosyncrasies and modifications, to the best places to catch fish. Particularly helpful is the opportunity to chat and discover who will be traveling in similar areas during the summer months. It is comforting to know who is “out there” with you, in case of emergency. Sidney is a great town with a nice variety of restaurants, and Krogenites are a delight to hang out with, so the rendezvous was an enjoyable way to start the season.

From there we picked up some dear friends who have cruised with us for a week every year since we became boat owners. These friends are not only fun, but they have exhibited courage and good humor, especially during the summer that we were complete rookies! They keep coming back for more, so it must not be too scary. This year we took them to one of our favorite spots in British Columbia, Princess Louisa Inlet. The spectacular granite cliffs rising from the water, rainforest green mosses, and the many rushing waterfalls tumbling into the sheltered fjord make this a truly awe-inspiring place. It was our delight to share it with friends. We did our first bear watching of the season there, as two black bears foraged along the water’s edge at low tide.

After our friends departed, we turned northward with purpose.  This is an Alaska year after all!  It takes a long time to travel the full west coast of British Columbia to reach Alaska, but we didn’t want to shortchange our BC time either.  So instead of just moving north, we zig-zagged from east to west a bit, to take in some places we hadn’t yet seen.  One of the daily stops unexpectedly turned out to be one of “those” places.

Big Frypan Bay is not very big, in fact it is tiny, and a bit shallow too. Voyager just fit, and we did a quick calculation to make sure the low tide wouldn’t leave us high and dry. Everything worked out, and we shut off the engine. The first thing we saw was a mama duck with 3 ducklings. She wanted to get them away from us, so they swam diligently after their mom. They were so tiny, yet they swam with every ounce of speed they could muster. We had a grass covered ledge of rock on one side of the boat, and on the other side, a charming window through rocks and bushes, where we could see through to the bay next to us. The hidey hole was large enough to kayak through. The water was crystal clear, and yet an amazing emerald green. A river otter swimming nearby provided entertainment. What a delight to be tucked into this beautiful place!

We returned to a favorite spot for our 48^th anniversary. Khutze Bay features a green meadow, and a stunning waterfall. We anchored near the base of the waterfall, enjoying the mighty sound, and occasional windborne spray. As we toasted each other happy anniversary, we noticed a grizzly bear on the shore. We sat and watched him just do his bear thing for a couple of hours. He even went swimming! I can’t imagine a better way or place to celebrate. We were delighted again!

One of our zigs led us way off the beaten path, to Fjordland. As the name implies, it is an area with steep, glacier carved granite fjords that twist and turn for miles. If there is heaven on earth, this place is it. Tall, jagged peaks surround the bay, and you can see more peaks behind these mountains and cliffs, seemingly touching the sky. A rushing waterfall and river. A large green meadow with a river winding through it. And my personal favorite: fields of lupine. Many of my friends and former students know me as the “Lupine Lady,” so this place felt like it was a gift just for me.

I am glad for a camera to remind me of all these places where we’ve experienced delight. I know that our boating seasons will not last forever, but we have a boatload of memories to cherish.

-beth

This is a cliché’.  But where do sayings like this originate?  There must be some fundamental, even if overused truth.  Here on the boat – yes, we are twenty odd days into another season of living aboard, I need to consider timing.  We needed to time all of the details of leaving the land-based home and time all of the details of getting the boat sea worthy for a long trek – even to Alaska.

In daily life we often think of the right timing in negative terms.  Have you ever thought to yourself, “I had better wait to mention such and such, He’s not going to like it!”  Just as a matter self-perseveration at worst, or simply getting along in life, we consider our timing. We want things to work out in the best way possible.

Living aboard Voyager, we are surrounded by opportunity that requires thoughtful timing. There is the ever-present ebb and flow of the tides and the currents that predictably follow. Our slow boat would either be hindered or helped along by the current depending on when and where we find ourselves. All it takes for this to become indelibly etched in your mind is to find yourself going against the flow with all of the engine power available, only to stand still or even realize you are going backwards because the current or flow is contrary. I like the fact that with just a little planning, the ‘bucking the flow’ can be averted and a ‘free ride’ is available. We found this to be the case when we transited Johnstone Strait. The strait attempts to drain all the inlets further to the east during the ebb. So, with light winds and a strong current, we made record time, at least for us! There is a sense of accomplishment that comes with ‘getting it right’.

But what about those things that aren’t predictable? Oh, this the area where it would be tempting to keep the boat tied up at the dock or worse yet, to never leave home. There are those things that are beyond my ability to anticipate. Even with all the technology available and the best of intentions, bad stuff will probably happen. Sometimes people ask, aren’t you afraid? So, where does confidence come from? Allow me introduce Captain Bluewater. Unafraid, boldly going, not looking back, he is capable. How did we encounter him? In the most unpredictable manner and with the timing not of our making, we met John Clarke. We were needing to reprovision in Pender Harbor, but there was no room on the dock. The accommodating dock manager, called a wharfinger in these parts, asked us to raft up or double park against a huge ketch named Porpoise. The only inconvenience is that you have to crawl across someone else’s boat to get to the dock. I always feel slightly uncomfortable and coming face to face with The Captain on his boat was awkward. I was in the act of trespassing. I didn’t know whether to extend my hand in greeting or ask, ‘permission to come aboard’. But since I was already on his boat, we just introduced ourselves, and I invited him to dinner. He had just that minute arrived himself – what timing!

Serendipity means: There is an element of surprise, and delight is the result. Captain John is the brother of good friends we had met in summers past. What a surprise! We had a memorable meal, complete with John’s guitar and Beth’s singing. Our friend Dean (John’s brother-in-law) showed up too! How is it that all of us converged for this incredible gathering? As our evening concluded, John offered us a couple of books that he has written about sailing and life’s journeys. This is where we’ve learned about the character ‘Captain Bluewater.’ In John’s book, Cast Off Your Bow Lines, he relates a time on Porpoise when halfway to Hawaii, his confidence was shaken. He gave himself a stern talking to and emerged from below as Captain Bluewater. I can muster up a certain amount of courage, but in all reality, it is a trust in the Unseen that makes the difference. This is true not only when fear wants to win the day, but also when the timing of serendipity is involved.

In the off season we had planned for an extended cruise this season.  What we could not have anticipated turns out to be the things that no amount of planning can bring about – serendipity!  For me there is inexpressible joy in rounding a bend only to discover a take – your – breath – away scene.  In just the few beginning weeks of this summer there have been several of these occasions.  These are gifts to us.  I don’t take them for granted.  I like to ask my grandkids a question when they discover things in their world that we adults take for granted – things like the stars, or bugs or the rain. I ask them, “Who did that”?  With just a little coaching, they know what the answer is: “God did!”

We have meandered to the point of nearly doubling the miles that this long trek to
Alaska requires. For every day that we make some progress, there are days we have gone sideways or even backward to follow the lure of delight.  And with the prospect of more serendipity, we’ll point this ship north.   

Where do you find joy, delight and serendipity?  I’d like to know…

-mike