Pool session: Working on my storm roll

One of several weekend pool sessions, working on my storm roll, which is getting better each week.

Prettier, More Successful Rolling Session

Had a better rolling session this week, after doing some exercises.  Beautiful evening session at sunset:

Outer South Baranof: Waypoints

Waypoints for my campsites and other key locations available here as a .kmz file.

Outer South Baranof: July 18, Distant Point to Angoon

On the last paddling day of the trip, took it slow and got out of camp in the early afternoon.  Had only a short crossing to get me to Angoon.  Lots of sport fishermen in the area, and saw a whale breaching as I crossed the entrance to Hood Bay--so close to a sport fishing boat that I thought at first the whale was about to land on the boat.

Extended my paddle a bit by following the shore of Sand and Table Islands a bit, then pulled out at the beach alongside the Angoon Ferry terminal.  Though kayakers are often not well accommodated by infrastructure at ferry docks in Southeast Alaska, the Angoon terminal has easy beach access with good launching at all tides.  

Stayed at the "Eagle's Wing," which is a bed and breakfast operated by the local Salvation Army pastor to support the Salvation Army mission in Angoon.  Comfortable, friendly, and inexpensive.  The Salvation Army pastor, a gregarious ex-marine and B&B proprietor picked me up and gave me a tour of town, including my first bears of the trip, in the Angoon dump.  It also is possible to paddle directly to the b&b, which has waterfront access on the East side of the Angoon peninsula, facing Kootzahoo Inlet.  Had a lovely dinner with him and his wife, then headed home the following day on the ferry.

Self-portrait on my final morning.
Keeping it real with camo.

Outer South Baranof: July 17, Wilson Cove to Distant Point

Another late-morning departure, facing a little bit of contrary wind in the morning, which diminished throughout the day.  Continued to paddle through interesting shoreline rock (basalt?) formations, with tremendous numbers of jellyfish and other sea life under the surface, and made about 22 miles.

Passed a number of excellent campsite beaches between Village Point and Distant Point, and finished my day about five miles from Angoon, on a small knoll just East of Distant point.  A much more comfortable location than the previous night, with little visible bear sign, and almost no underbrush (as well as a soft, duff tenting surface).

Among other sites, passed a blacktail browsing alders on the beach, and was able to approach closely before the deer became afraid and ran.

Outer South Baranof: July 16, Red Bluff to Wilson Cove

Seiner working near Point Gardner

Low slack was at 10, so the goal was to be out by 9:30.  Of course, missed the goal by an hour for some reason, but still managed to benefit from the strong flood push, paddling North to Nelson Bay, then ferry gliding Northeast to Point Gardner at the Southern end of Admiralty.  The area near Point Gardner evidently can develop tide rips, but I saw no sign of them, probably because I was arriving near enough to high slack (though I did experience some lumpiness due to wind and current in the first half of the crossing).  Weather was generally calm, though, with 2' seas or less, and only a little drizzle as I paddled from Red Bluff to Nelson Bay on the Baranof Island side of the strait.

Took a break at a small beach just North and West of Point Gardner and watched a seiner work for a bit.  That location could be a lovely campsite with a great view to the South and West.  There were also many good camping beaches I passed over the next several miles, riding the rising tide, then hugging the shoreline and trying to take advantage of eddies where possible.  Paddling along the shoreline of this part of Admiralty was interesting; the intertidal zone was often made of interesting rock formations (black rock, probably basalt?) that were often covered at high tide.  Paddling over them and the visible intertidal life living on and around them was neat, and paddling around and through basalt structures poking out of the water made for interesting paddling.  

Made very good progress--a 20+ mile day--but stopped at what was, in retrospect, an odd location with only marginal camping, no water, and lots of bear sign near the Southern opening to Wilson Cove.  Probably would have been better to continue on to the other side of the cove, with several pretty beaches, or to stop several miles earlier, well short of Point Wilson.  Embarrassed to admit that I may have been hoping for cell phone reception so that I could call to arrange lodging in Angoon and, more importantly, so that I could call home.  If that's what I was thinking, I was not in luck, though I was fortunate in having a family of eagles close at hand as I made camp.

View Southwest from Point Gardner, looking toward Baranof Island

Outer South Baranof: July 14-15, Patterson Peninsula to Red Bluff

The stunning Patterson Peninsula scenery continued after my launch this morning (a bit earlier to take advantage of the flood).  Had a nice push from the tide supplemented by strengthening Southerlies, as I was driven past steep rainforest-covered mountainsides, bare on top, interspersed by cliffs and bogs.  Pulled off the water a bit after 3PM, before the wind started bucking the ebb tide; Chatham strait was already a little uncomfortable at slack and I was a bit worried about finding a safe pull-out before the strong Southerly current started stacking waves up against a 25 knot Southerly wind.  Not a long day on the water but with the help of wind and tide I still made 18 miles.

Camped just North and outside of Red Bluff bay, which is marked by a distinctive red-colored ridge (I imagine it to be red sandstone) which is visible for miles.  The campsite is excellent--several excellent upland tent sites and a really pleasant spot to pitch the tarp at the top of the beach, just underneath some alders.  The weather called for strengthening Southerlies on the 15th and a small craft warning, so I set my kitchen up carefully, anticipating a day off and some reading under the tarp.

Unbelievably, I also discovered that I had cell reception--five bars, LTE coverage!  I imagine the cell tower must be located above Kake, across Chatham strait.   I was able to call home, and even FaceTime.  Great to check in and hear that everything at home was going smoothly.  Having cell coverage in remote Southeast Alaska gave me visions of paddling constantly, working with a laptop, cell phone, and tiny turbine generator...  I could imagine a worse life!

As anticipated, the weather on the 15th was not good, and as I was making good progress towards Angoon and had plenty of time and food, I took a rest day, and spent a lot of time reading and drinking coffee.  My one concern was running low on stove fuel, but I was able to do most of my coffee-making over a fire, and I was able to burn some paper trash in the process, saving some space and eliminating a bit of weight.

Had some trouble with wrist pain on the 14th--probably an after effect of my white-knuckle days paddling between Redfish and Puffin Bays--the rest day didn't cure it, but helped substantially.  Had some stiffness on the 15th, but much less pain.

Midway through the afternoon, had a mink run through camp, just yards from my camp kitchen.  Hadn't seen one of those since 2017 in B.C.

Outer South Baranof: July 13, Port Lucy to Patterson Peninsula

Slow morning with a late departure after the long prior day.  Even so, benefitted greatly from the tail end of the flood tide, which then turned against me and made my afternoon difficult.  I was surprised by how strong the currents were in Chatham Strait!  The Coast Pilot says 2 knots at some times and in some locations, but I experienced currents likely stronger than that and more or less continuously at the peak of the ebb.

Looking North at the Patterson Peninsula

Beautiful, clear, warm weather all day (until sunset), a nice change from the previous day.  I passed just feet from a snoozing seal with just its eyes and nose above the water near Point Walter.

Passed by good camping beaches in Toledo Harbor and Jerry Harbor, and stopped for dinner at Mist Cove, where I cooked dinner on a rock at the mouth of the cove.  Also paddled by a hatchery float house in the cove, and saw an open door but no one was visible, so I paddled on.  Hatchery structures are also visible at Port Walter, though I didn't stop.
Mist Cove itself is named after a striking waterfall, several hundred feet high, which runs from a lake several hundred feet up off a cliff, creating a mist plume visible from a good distance.  My pictures unfortunately didn't effectively capture the effect, which was quite beautiful.  

Waterfall at Mist Cove

The Mist Cove hatchery evidently raises salmon in the waterfall lake, then allows them to swim out through a pipe that channels water downhill from the lake to sea level without harming themselves (since they would be killed by the fall off the waterfall).  The pipe itself is visible near the float house.  

Many fish were jumping in the cove, and commercial fishermen were working nearby--seems like a productive fishing spot!  

After dinner, continued up the E side of the Patterson Peninsula.  The Southern end of the peninsula is quite sheer and rocky, straight down to the water.  After several miles, the coast is punctuated by a series of dramatic bowls with beautiful (though often steep) cobble beaches.  The first of these is accessed through a narrow channel, and marked "Lords Pocket" on the map.  I camped several miles further on in one of these bowls, which reminded me somewhat of Kingcome Inlet at the Northern End of Princess Royal Island in Central British Columbia--dramatic cliffs surrounding a beautiful round bight with cobble beaches.  

Grainy photo of the blacktail I scared into the water

After setting up camp in the evening, made myself some tea and sat on the beach watching the sky.  As I sat, a blacktail deer, apparently startled by my presence, bolted down the beach and charged into the water before swimming several hundred yards to a rocky spot which must have seemed safer.  I wasn't aware of the deer before it ran by, and I was afraid at first it was being chased by a bear, but none was visible.  If one was around, it must have been scared off by my scent, though more likely the deer was frightened by me, not a bear.  

Outer South Baranof: July 12, Little Branch Bay to Port Lucy

The forecast was sufficiently pessimistic that I had decided on the 11th that if I could get out on the 12th, I would  portage between Puffin Bay and Port Lucy, where I knew there to be a roughly half-mile between the two inlets, and an elevation change of less than 200 feet.  I had read about the possible existence of this portage prior to my trip, and my inimitable Aspid Cape-North Cape paddling companion, Jay, described it to me in some detail.


In order to improve my chances of successfully escaping Little Branch/Big Branch/Redfish Bay, I was up extraordinarily early (for me--I realize my 4:30 rise is par for the course for many other kayakers) and out by 7.  The forecast was still not ideal, calling for six foot swells, probably exacerbated by depth effects, and the clapotis in the area was still uncomfortable.  However, the paddling seemed much safer, the ocean had noticeably less energy, and I was able to (somewhat nervously) continue on to Puffin Bay.

Anxious to be on my way, after two days of inactivity, I enjoyed seeing a substantial sealion rookery at Sealion Rocks, and I enjoyed being the subject of investigation by curious puffins wheeling around me at the mouth of Puffin Bay, where I arrived by 9:30.

Puffin Bay, looking out to the North Pacific

Although the back of Puffin Bay obviously receives a surprising amount of swell, camping above the beach is possible (though not ideal), and there is likely good camping to be had in the bight to the SSE of the back of the bay.  However, I arrived early in the day (probably no later than 10:30) and was anxious to make progress, and so quickly began the process of carrying my gear across the island.

The portage itself was hard work, hot and wet, especially the task of carrying my kayak between the two fjords; although the weather was windy on the Puffin Bay side, it was rainy and humid in the trees.  The humidity was made worse by my lack of effective rain gear; in order to stay relatively dry, I completed the first three of my four trips across the island wearing my drysuit.  My journal notes describe the portaging process as "brutal."  To the extent that any trail exists, it's most likely as much a deer trail as anything else, and certainly not easy going!

I saw a fair bit of recent bear sign.  Tracks, scat, and quite a bit of uprooted skunk cabbage were visible.  Some hungry bear had clearly been in the area recently, perhaps that day or the day before.  I had good luck in avoiding bears, though, presumably by making lots of noise, singing and talking to myself.  No doubt many bears over the years have, from afar, enjoyed my somewhat off-key and bawdy rendition of "The Bear Went Over the Mountain," and my own original composition of "Hey Bear," which riffs on blues scales and rhythms, as well as my backwoods covers of Rush's progressive rock classics, "The Trees" and "Red Barchetta," in which I attempt to imitate Geddy Lee's early-career falsetto.

Once across the island, I filtered some water in a nearby creek, ate lunch and sent a few inReach messages home, and was on the water again by mid-afternoon.  Enjoyed a nice tailwind as I paddled East down Port Lucy towards Chatham Strait (pushed by a wind blowing across the island and through the Puffin Bay/Port Lucy gap) and found an absolutely lovely pocket beach with a creek just at the mouth of Port Lucy (N side), where I startled a family of blacktail deer as I paddled onto the beach.

After several days of rain, the weather cleared off, and I hung wet socks and clothing about to dry in a cold, dry breeze which began blowing from the South, up Chatham Strait in the evening and overnight.  Though the sunset wasn't visible from my Southeast-facing campsite, I enjoyed a beautiful evening sky.  My overnight was a bit chilly, but overall, I was very relieved to be out of the weather and back in (relatively) protected waters, though a bit disappointed to have missed Cape Ommaney

From the mouth of Port Lucy, looking Southeast at sunset  

Outer South Baranof: July 9-11, Sandy Bay to Little Branch Bay

Sea stars at my lunch spot in Byron Bay

The marine forecast predicted strong Southerlies early, so I slept in a bit later than normal and was out of camp by around 11:30, then had smooth paddling to Redfish Bay, only around 12 statute miles from my Sandy Bay campsite on the previous night.  In retrospect, I should have continued on a bit further, but worried about worsening weather and a small craft warning for the evening of the 9th and the next day, I ducked into Redfish Bay and looked for a safe place to weather over  

Along the way, experienced very mild contrary winds (no more than 10 knots, likely closer to 5) and more commercial trollers.  Also saw a whale breaching off of Snipe Bay, spotted lots of sea otters, and was tailed by curious sea lions for several miles.

Pulled into Byron Bay for a mid-afternoon break and snack.  Didn't find any beaches near the mouth of the bay, but found a rocky promontory where it was easy to pull out and eat, on the W side of the bay.  Then, continued on South to Redfish Bay, turning into protected waters after debating whether to continue further to Puffin Bay.  Here again, probably should have kept going, but was unnecessarily concerned about getting caught by bad weather.  Spent the 10th in camp, uncomfortable with sitting still.

Redfish Bay

The top of Redfish Bay is quite beautiful, though so protected from the wind that I was pretty actively eaten by mosquitoes and other six-legged companions until the wind freshened considerably on the 10th; even then, had relatively little wind at the campsite, and it was easy to forget how terrible the weather was outside the bay.  Lots of fish jumping (obviously a sockeye run up the creek to Tumakof Lake) and plenty of bear sign, but had a hard time finding a kitchen spot and tent site that were sufficiently far apart to feel comfortable about keeping food smell away from my tent.  In the end, set the tent up in a nice soft spot under some spruce trees to the East of the creek, and set up my kitchen tarp in a somewhat less suitable spot in grassy spot near a creek running into the salt water at the top of the bay.  Some rusty iron machinery was sitting on the beach near my kitchen, possibly the remains of an old cannery or a beached vessel which gave the whole place a somewhat forlorn air in the bugs (on the 9th) and rain (on the 10th), exacerbated by the fact that my rain pants turned out not to be 100% waterproof, which made for a wet day on the 10th.

Cannery remains?

Tried to escape from Redfish Bay on the 11th, with a forecast of dropping swells through the day.  Decided my best opportunity, given the forecast, was to try again for a late departure, to see if I could make it to Puffin Bay or Larch Bay once the weather had (hopefully) calmed down.  But paddling out of Redfish around 11:30AM was scary, with intimidating swells and significant clapotis, so turned around and headed back in to the protected waters of Little Branch Bay (just E of Redfish and Big Branch Bays).  Although these weren't the biggest waves I've paddled in, the energy of the sea and unpredictability of the reflecting waves made for worrisome conditions, and I decided it would be best to play it safe and find a new campsite in Little Branch Bay, then try again to make some progress in the afternoon.

Paddled up to the top of Little Branch, and found a potential campsite at the top of the bay, and another in a protected bight to the E of a small islet about 1.5 statute miles up the bay.  I found this second location more amenable than my previous campsite--further from any obvious salmon streams, no obvious bear sign, a nice cobble and shingle beach, and ample space for locating a kitchen and tent site a good distance apart.  It was also the more convenient to the bay mouth, and there was water nearby.  I made a second attempt to escape the fjord in the afternoon, but although conditions had improved somewhat, they were still pretty uncomfortable; decided it would be best to be conservative and attempt a third departure the following morning early.