Trip Report: Paddling Annette, Duke and Gravina Islands

 Been a long time since I've posted here.  But I've been having conversations with friends recently about what a shame it is that folks are no longer blogging their trip reports and everything is posted on Facebook and YouTube these days.  Those platforms are great but it feels like the old fashioned blog format can be a better way of communicating essential information about outdoor trips, so I'm going to experiment again with posting a few trip reports.  

Trip Theory and Plan

This last summer--2025--I completed a roughly two week paddling trip around Annette, Duke and Gravina Islands.  I was joined (or maybe I joined) two friends.  Jason is a glaciologist who I've done eight or ten long trips with over the years, plus many shorter trips.  Megan is a mathematician who I've often paddled with in the past but we've never done any longer trips.  But both are very experienced paddlers with long outdoor resumés and both are reliable paddling partners.  

Megan on Day 1 next to a legacy of Alaska's logging past

I've been interested in spending more time paddling in the area near Annette Island since my Inside Passage trip in 2017.  I also spent about a week on Annette around 2014 doing a research project and enjoyed the community, though I didn't have a kayak with me and it was winter time so I didn't do any paddling.  

The Annette Island Indian Preserve has historically been the only lower-48-style Native reservation in Alaska, though that may be changing as several Alaska Native tribes have evidently successfully gone through the process of putting land into trust with the Department of the Interior.  Folks on Annette and living in it's town, Metlakatla, Alaska, are Tshimshian, and lovely folks--helpful and friendly.  Tsimshian folks are originally from the Skeena River region in Canada, and there is another community called Metlakatla in B.C.  The Annette landscape is also beautiful and Annette and Duke are areas with some protected paddling and some areas exposed to open ocean, so a good place to work on my comfort level in bigger ocean swell.  Though unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately?) the weather during our trip was too good to have much swell.  

Jason, in camp our second to last night.  He didn't sleep here.

We also hoped to add Duke Island, to the South, if we had enough time and the weather was good enough.  And Jason was interested in looping in Gravina Island, which--though I was grumpy about it at the time--turned out to be a beautiful and very interesting paddle.  Gravina is the island on which the Ketchikan airport is located so we had all been on Gravina but none of us had spent much time there or had been far from the airport.  

Logistics 

We hopped on the Alaska Marine Highway Ferry from Juneau to Ketchikan on July 15.  The trip to Ketchikan is a long one and we arrived mid-day on the 16th.  Some friends from the University who work in Ketchikan met us at the ferry terminal and helped us move our boats to a boat ramp a few miles South of downtown Ketchikan and the community of Saxman.  Logistically, launching at the ferry terminal is possible but difficult with a riprap shoreline.  We spent about two weeks paddling, then returned to our put-in and a friend and work colleague helped shuttle us back to the ferry terminal on the 26th.  We spent a night in a hotel across the street from the ferry terminal, then returned on the Ferry to Juneau, leaving early on the 27th.  Though we carried enough food for two weeks, a resupply in the Metlakatla town site is possible and we stopped for sodas and ice cream several days into the trip.

We weren't sure what rules, if any, existed for outsiders like us camping on the Annette shoreline so we did our best to camp outside the Annette Island Reserve.  When that wasn't possible, we did our best to keep our presence from disturbing anyone and we avoided fishing and fires in the preserve.

Route and Schedule

We paddled South with a tailwind for the first day.  Jason and Megan had an easier time handling the choppy water--my kayak tends to get buried in short, steep waves (likely my technique could use some work as well).  But we made good progress crossing to Annette and working our way Southeast down the Annette shoreline.  We paddled South of Bold Island and through the strait between Annette and Ham Island (cleverly named because it looks a bit like a leg of ham).  We weren't carrying much water at the trip and the weather had been relatively dry so we stopped to fill up our water bags and bottles at a small waterfall on the Annette side, inside Ham I.  We then camped on the SE end of Ham which at the time we believed was outside the Annette I. Preserve but may have been inside.  In any event, we saw no locals here (or at any time on the trip except for our visit to Metlakatla town.)

Our first night we had some challenges with midges.  These turned out to be an annoyance for the first several days of trip. 

Western Red Cedar.  Perhaps the grandest of Alaska's trees, its range
is limited to Southern Southeast Alaska, well South of Juneau. 
Exciting to see it here.

 

Day 2, July 17, we continued SW along the Annette shoreline, crossing to Duke between Cat and Dog Island.  We considered paddling North again to Mary Island to see the lighthouse there, but decided to continue South to Duke through Grave Passage, taking advantage of the calm and dry weather we were having.   That night we camped on Duke, just North of Flag Point.  Bugs were worse though we were able to cook and eat on a rocky point nearby so avoided the worst of the midges at meal time.  We continued our paddle around Duke on the 18th, camping near Mount Lazaro, near the Southern tip of Duke.  

Our pretty but buggy Duke Island camp on the 17th.

A highlight of the 19th was a paddle through the Percy Islands, named after "Hotspur" Henry Percy, made famous by Shakespeare's Henry the IV part I.  One of our Ketchikan friends had recommended them as a stop, a cluster of tiny islands joined by narrow, shallow channels that dry at low tide.  A beautiful and worthwhile segment.  

We lunched there and continued back to Annette Island, making the crossing with a growing tailwind that, though gentle by Dixon Entrance standards made for the choppiest conditions so far.  Continuing up the shoreline, we noted World War II-era ruins and stopping to examine a cove with several floating fish traps (legal on Annette but now illegal--since statehood--in Alaska waters outside the reservation).  This day of many attractions also included a stop in Metlakatla town where we chatted with several local families and walked over to the local grocery store for ice cream and sodas.  The previous several days we had struggled with biting midges that left us bumpy and welted--which became especially obvious after removing our drysuits for a walk to the supermarket.  The locals took our appearance in stride, however, and we had a lovely if short visit in town.  After finishing our drinks and ice cream bars we pushed off, paddling up the Annette shoreline and through what appeared to be a gillnet opener in tribal waters.  

Five days in we had already paddled what I imagined--after accounting for bad weather that never materialized--might take us twice as long.  Jason was interested in continuing across to Gravina Island and circumnavigating.  His estimate gave us plenty of time to do the fifty mile circumnavigation, especially considering the excellent weather which was forecast to continue for the next several days.  So on the 20th we crossed over to Gravina, working Southwest towards Dall Head (at the Soutern tip of the island) points back towards Annette Island.  Weather on the 20th was warm and calm, and the morning of the 21st, breaking camp in Bostwick Inlet, we woke to fog on the water which burned off as the day warmed.  

Strong Northerly winds were forecast for the 21st in Clarence Strait, on the west side of Gravina.  Nichols Passage, on the East side, was relatively sheltered and we had an easy paddle to Dall Head before turning into a strong head wind.  A network of intricate, sheltered channels allowed us to continue our progress North for a mile or two after turning the corner but before long the channels ran out and any further progress would be slow and painful, into 25 or 30 knot winds and short, steep chop.  We chose to stop for a long break in the early afternoon, hoping that the wind would settle in a few hours so that we could continue on without too much additional pain.  Our bet paid off and after spending several hours lounging on a shaded beach we were able to push on to Nehanta Bay where we camped for the night.  

Our afternoon break spot on July 21

 

On the 22nd, we continued North along the Clarence Strait side of Gravina.  We expected another day of strong Northerlies but the winds never really materialized and instead we had calm, settled weather with a bit of overcast and some sprinkles in the afternoon, this was (amazingly) the first overcast weather of the trip.  We made good progress but at the end of the day found ourselves approaching a heavily logged area with clear cuts down to the waterline.  This is a bit unusual; logging in Southeast Alaska was commonplace through the mid-1990s and clear cuts aren't unusual but typically logging operations left a buffer zone--usually a few hundred yards wide--near the shoreline so it's often possible to be camping near a past logging operation and not know it (or at least pretend not to know it).  In this case, our camping options were curtailed for several miles on account of clear cuts so we stopped in the last spot we could find, a small islet near Grant Cove.  We were able to find some flat spots to set up tents after climbing an embankment above the beach (and since I was sleeping in a hammock, flat ground wasn't as important for me as for Jason and Megan).  

Camp on the 23rd

At Jason's urging, we headed out on the 24th with the intention of crossing the Tongass Narrows to Betton and the Tatoosh Islands.  Jason had heard they were quite beautiful and with another day of good weather (amazing!) we found a camp spot on the Southwest corner of Betton Island, then paddled around Betton and explored the interesting channels and cliffs of the Tatoosh group.  We saw a number of tour groups from Ketchikan-based cruise ship excursions including a guided paddling group and several tour groups on inflatable rafts.  The side trip was worth the effort despite my initial reservations!  A beautiful spot to paddle.  

On the 25th, our final full day of kayaking, we paddled South into the Tongass Narrows.  I had identified a possible lunch stop on the way, as we were paddling along the Ketchikan road system, but we weren't able to identify a possible pull-out location so continued South, passing through several small boat harbors and eventually crossing to Pennock Island.  We stopped in several locations looking for a camp spot but struggled to find a location with enough flat ground for Jason and Megan's tents so continued on nearly to the Southeastern tip of the island where we found a pretty cove with hollow log (see the picture of Jason, above).  I hung my hammock just above the beach and Jason and Megan identified comfy flat ground for tenting.   

Our final paddling day was the 26th, we rounded the Southern tip of Pennock Island and returned to our put-in where we were met by friends who took us to the ferry terminal.  Our ferry wasn't scheduled to leave until the following morning so we spent the night at a hotel conveniently located across the street from the ferry, boarding early on the morning of the 27th and returning to Juneau the following day.  

Overall, fantastic trip with absolutely incredible weather.  

Highlights included the Percy Islands, the southern tip of Gravina and the Tatoosh group.  Duke Island was beautiful but we would have benefitted from windier weather to drive the bugs away.  Logistics were a bit complicated but launching and landing from the rip rap near the ferry terminal would be possible, lengthening the trip but simplifying in-town transport.  

I dealt with a number of gear malfunctions on the trip including a damaged cockpit coaming and a chipped greenland paddle.  I was able to make repairs with few problems, evidently my gear repair kit is functional (though now well used!). It may be time to replace some of my aging gear, including dry bags and my now-aging plywood kayak.  

I would absolutely do this trip again, and would in fact like to return to Ketchikan to spend more time exploring several of the areas we passed through. 

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.

Outer South Baranof: July 8, Aspid Cape to Sandy Bay

Slow morning--got a late start, and shortly after launching, ran into another paddler (in a plastic sit-on-top recreational kayak, of all things), who gave me a lot of excellent data about paddling to come. The paddler was a Sitka local--Jay--who spends much of his time paddling and sailing the outer coast of Baranof and the surrounding areas.  Really a remarkable guy--knew every rock and every beach and a lot more.  He told me that I should have camped in Yamani Cove, just East of Aspid Cape and less than a mile from where I had camped the previous night.

Jay volunteered to make the crossing to North Cape with me, where we stopped for a lunch break.  Along the way, he pointed out some beautiful beaches in the North Cape area, and told me a typically Alaskan story about standing in a tree above a North Cape beach and watching a Brown bear walk underneath him, just inches away, and unable to see him (though apparently quite aware of his scent).  Really enjoyed the conversation, the intelligence on camping and paddling to come, and appreciated how far he paddled out of his way with me!

Sea otter near Pt. Lauder

After Jay peeled off to cross back to Yamani Cove, I continued on, crossing Whale Bay to Pt. Lauder--a beautiful spot for dinner.  Dinner was turkey jambalaya, rehydrated in a thermos.  From there, continued on to Sandy Bay, with lovely paddling conditions.  In general, despite forecasted headwinds, had a great paddle, and although I was feeling a bit uncomfortable in the ocean swells (low as they were), began to feel more comfortable as the day went on, even in places with some clapotis.

A great deal of wildlife on the 8th, including porpoises, puffins, and lots of otters.

Camped on a steep shingle beach on the W side and just inside Sandy Bay.  This beach may be difficult to access at lower tides, but was quite pretty.

Outer South Baranof: July 7, Koka I. Passage to Aspid Cape

Beautiful but uneventful day.

Up around 8 (typical for me), and paddled off the beach by 10 under a low ceiling with little view.  Bit of a headwind today, but didn't have any trouble making miles (probably no more than 5 kts all day).

Paddled by Goddard Hot Springs without stopping, then headed through the Rakof Islands--a series of small islets in between the mouths of Crawfish Inlet and Walker Channel.  Pretty waters, but didn't find any obvious spots to break or camp.

Had my first real open water of the trip W of Elevoi I., where I started to experience a little low swell (just a few feet) and saw a bunch of sea otters.

In the afternoon, crossed Walker Channel to Aspid Cape, and found a nice campsite above a beach which is itself at the base of a pretty tombolo just W of Yamani Cove.  Little did I know, I should have paddled a bit further into the cove itself, with beautiful beaches and an old village site.  Still, the campsite I found was comfortable and had water.   I was a bit surprised that the camping options in the area weren't better, but, although there are many beaches, they seem to often be inaccessible at low tide, sitting above and behind rocky (possibly basalt) ledges.

Looking Southeast near Aspid Cape

Had planned to paddle a bit after dinner, but decided to settle in at Aspid after dinner, rather than doing the long crossing to North Cape, unsure of what I would find when I got there.  No need to worry, as North Cape is a beautiful spot with lovely camping, but I of course didn't know that until the following day.

A bit intimidated by the open water paddling to come!

Outer South Baranof: July 6, 2018, Sitka to Koka I. Passage

After a set of delays due to weather and cancelled ferry runs, I finally got on the road on the 6th of July, driving a friend's minivan; he needed the vehicle out in Sitka, and if I drove it on the ferry for him, he would avoid an unaccompanied vehicle fee and I wouldn't have to pay extra for my kayak.  It also meant that I would be able to launch from downtown Sitka (actually just to the South, near the Sitka Sound Science Center, where there is a convenient place to put in), rather than near the ferry terminal, on the other end of the road system.  That saved me a few hours of paddling, though it also meant I didn't get to paddle through Sitka; maybe not the best choice, though it seemed like a good decision at the time.

After a sleepless night (believe it or not, too hot in Juneau for me to sleep!), boarded the ferry on the 6th of July early in the morning (5:30AM).  Enjoyed my ride on the Fairweather--a beautiful, fast boat and one of the newest boats in the Alaska Marine Highway System fleet that, because of neglect and mismanagement, the State of Alaska has decided to mothball.  A sin.

After shuffling the car and my kayak, got on the water by 2:30, then headed SW across the scattered islands in that part of Sitka Sound, and through a fair number of salmon seiners doing their work.

Salmon seiner working in Sitka Sound

Passed several good potential campsites on my way; one at Pirate Cove just NE of Cape Burunof, and another just S, in Three Entrance Bay.  These sites clearly see some local use.  Also passed a beautiful clam shell beach just SE fo Povorotni Pt., which would make a nice campsite for a small number of paddlers.  Ultimately, decided to camp above a beach on the Southern most Islet W of Koka I. Passage.  Shared the area for a few hours with some young people with a power boat who seemed to be out for the afternoon, but they took off well before dark and I had the place to myself for the night.  All in all, a successful day--12 mi. total, respectable given the mid afternoon start.

Outer South Baranof, Trip Conception and Plan

Just a quick look at a chart or topographic map of the Southern half of Baranof Island is enough to convince you that the landscape will be striking: deep, long fjords, huge alpine and sea level bowls, and a rocky coastline with few beaches. I've been looking at that map for a long time, wondering if my parking skills were up to the task of a kayaking that coast, and this past winter, I convinced myself that although the coastline is serious, it's broken frequently enough by fjords and bays that provide protection that the trip was within my reach as a paddler. I had enjoyed my limited outer coast paddling experience the previous summer (Cape Caution, Dixon Entrance, and Outer Chichagof), and was looking for a beautiful trip that would also be a bit of a challenge.

After some thinking and chart reading, decided I would end the trip in Angoon, which I had never before visited.

My summer schedule this year was substantially more flexible than the previous several years, so I arbitrarily settled on a late-June departure that was twice postponed, ultimately to July 6. One of those delays was due to a mechanical problem on the ferry Columbia, no doubt due to the criminal under-funding of the Alaska Marine Highway System by Alaska's executive, which is happy to spend on roads in Anchorage and sees no problem with neglecting the infrastructure needs of Southeast Alaska and the Aleutian chain.

I found the outer coast section of the trip challenging, beautiful, and sometimes frightening. Scenery on the Eastern side of Baranof Island is also magnificent, and although the paddling was challenging, the power of the sea there, in Chatham Strait, is of course much diminished. And although the landscape of Southern Admiralty Island is not at dramatic as that of Baranof, the camping opportunities were excellent and the paddling some of the most enjoyable of the trip. Overall, a physically and emotionally challenging paddle, but a great success.

Lessons from the trip:

1. I need to carry more food for exposed trips like this.
2. I don't handle sitting in camp alone very well. This, if nothing else, might be a good reason to paddle with a partner.
3. My self-rescue needs to be 100% dependable for paddling in these exposed, powerful conditions, which is currently is not. Project for this year, I think.

Playing with New Toys: Rolling Session, June 14, 2018

Playing with a new knockoff Go Pro--pretty satisfied so far.  Aside from being a fun toy, thought it might be useful for diagnosing some persistent problems with my roll; unsurprisingly, the issue seems to be that I'm not keeping my head down!

June 10: Taiyasanka Inlet to Skagway (and back to Juneau)

Well prepared for Bears,
and wearing my home-sewn
storm cagoule at Taiyasanka

Up at 5:30 (early for me!) in order to have sufficient time to make it to Skagway for the afternoon ferry, which was due to leave at 3:30PM.

Everything was wet from the rainy, choppy paddle the day before, and the morning started out cold. Moved relatively efficiently to get out of camp, therefore, made more efficient by the fact that I had left the kitchen tarp up from dinner the night before.

On the water and paddling by 7:45, and pushed around Taiya Point and into Taiya Inlet by a slight Northerly breeze. Predicted Southerlies didn't pick up for an hour or two, but by the time I was halfway to Skagway, the wind was pushing me along nicely. The further North I got, the bigger the waves got, and I was able to make good use of them, surfing a bit when I could catch a wave. Of course, it rained the whole time, but riding the waves kept me warm (with the help of my home sewn storm cagoule, made out of an old tent fly).

Paddled by two docked cruise ships and into the Skagway small boat harbor around 11:45, at least and hour before I expected to be there. The small boat harbor is immediately adjacent to the ferry terminal, and a boat launch with a gentle gravel/grass grade on either side makes taking out easy. At high tide, a grassy slope to paddler's left of the launch leads almost directly into the ferry terminal parking lot, though this would be inaccessible (above rip rap) at lower tides.

Despite the wet, windy weather, scenery in upper Lynn Canal was superb.
Unfortunately, I packed my camera in a drybag on the morning of the 10th, so
instead, you get to see this pretty picture from Point St. Mary.

As I walked into the terminal, I was a little concerned that the ferry might be booked—almost never happens, but there was a lot of activity! Apparently, a road race was just finishing up next door, hence all the traffic. No problem getting a spot on the boat, so carried my gear and boat over, then walked up the street for a coffee and a buffalo chicken wrap at Glacier Smoothie. Then back to board, for the fast ferry to Juneau.

Riding the F/V Fairweather is a joy. It's a tragedy that the Alaska Marine Highway System seems to be phasing out these beautiful, fast, efficient boats. Absolute pernicious neglect by a legislature which is happy to spend federal and state dollars on road construction near Anchorage but is unable or unwilling to see the importance of the ferry system to residents of coastal communities. Though it does make me sad that the Fairweather doesn't serve greasy burgers and pancakes.

June 9: Anyaka Island to Taiyasanka Harbor

A little gloomy at Anyaka I.

After a chilly night in the wind on June 7-8, my warm, sheltered campsite on the 8th-9th made it hard for me to get out of my sleeping bag in the morning, making for a little bit of a late start. Probably just as well, since the 9th turned into a bit of a grind, contrasting with the two easy days on either side.

My crossing from Anyaka Island to Seduction Point on the Southern end of the Chilkat Peninsula went smoothly, though I was surprised by strong contrary tides to the East of Seduction Point an for several Miles to the North. In the early afternoon, I also started to feel a Northerly breeze that appeared to be blowing down the Katzehin drainage. Together, the current and wind made progress slow.

Looking a little goofy in my paddling cap

It was nearly 5 when I passed Haines, and I was cold. Unlike the previous day, the wind was matched with rain and fog, and the whole day was rather chilly.

Once past the Haines ferry terminal, I considered continuing into Taiya Inlet to look for a campsite, but changed my mind at the last minute, deciding that any site I found would likely be rocky and exposed to the wind. Probably a good decision.

Instead of continuing, I ducked into Taiyasanka Harbor, just West of the mouth of Taiya Inlet. The mouth of the harbor is protected by a narrow spit—a glacial moraine. There is good camping on both sides of the moraine. On the South side, a beach faces Haines, and on the North side (which I figured would be more protected), there is some beach camping and good access to the upland. I camped behind a large glacial erratic in a Spruce Stand about halfway up the spit. Actually, "spruce stand" is a little misleading, since the length of the spit is topped by spruce.

Turned out that this was a good decision; all the potential camping spots I had scoped out on the chart turned out to be marginal, at best, when I passed them the following day.

The view up Taiyasanka Inlet from the kitchen

Predictably, I noted no bear sign until after my tent was set up and I was cooking dinner, then noted a big pile of bear scat just beside my kitchen area.

No problems with bears though, of course. I imagine all the local bears are elsewhere, looking for berries and skunk cabbage or, more likely, scavenging at the Haines dump.

Breakfast burritos for dinner, then an early night, the better to be ready for an early morning the following day.

June 8: Point St. Mary to Anyaka Island

The venerable F/V LeConte, headed for Juneau

A speedy day, helped along by Southerly winds.

Launched mid-morning under overcast skies, and with a strong South wind already blowing. The cloud cover soon started to clear, and I had mostly blue skies all day.

Waves never really built beyond two feet or so, despite the wind.

View Southwest from my Anyaka I. campsite

The Chilkat mountains to the West were stunning, and equally striking was the Coastal Range, to the East.

Passed numerous potential campsites in this stretch; gravel and cobble beaches are common and upland campsites are almost as frequent.

My plan was to go 18 miles or so, keeping in the back of my mind that Kataguni Island, at around 22 miles, likely has good campsites above a number of gravel beaches. Made such good time, however, that I made it several miles further, to Anyaka Island, where I found a nice, Northwest-facing beach with a tight but comfortable upland tentsite in a stand of small Spruce trees. This site had good views to the North and West and was sheltered from the South wind.

Paddling to Skagway, June 7: Echo Cove to Point St. Mary

Glassy conditions paddling out of Echo Cove

After various and sundry travels in May, which I may blog about elsewhere, Emily and I returned to Juneau about two weeks ago, and after recovering from jet lag (hit me pretty hard this time coming back from Europe), got the idea in my head that it might be time to do the Juneau to Skagway paddle. Weather looks good for the next few days, and it will be a good shakedown for my more ambitious trip later this summer.

Emily dropped me off at Echo cove after work and a quick dinner; I had the idea that I would paddle just a few miles, perhaps to the mouth of Sawmill Creek, just out of Echo Cove, where I've camped before. I also believed there would be a camping spot at Point Mary, across the mouth of Berners Bay, which should be a pretty spot in the morning. I was on the water around 7:30 or 8, and near Sawmill Creek at around 8:45, which would have been a reasonable time to stop, but conditions were glassy, and paddling across Berners into the Sunset above the Chilkat Mountains was beautiful, so I kept going. The evening crossing reminded me a bit of the evening last year when Emily and I paddled across Behm Canal to Caamano Point (sp?) in the setting sun.

Paddling across Berners Bay in the sunset,
Chilkat range in the distance

Beach here is a little rough at high—bowling-ball sized cobbles and rocks, but it looks like it would be sand at lower tides. No water, but the view is superb. Beach camping wouldn't work, but camping in the trees is good.

There are a few rocks off shore here that are serving as a seal haul out, an I can hear them splashing around as I type this.