(EDITOR’S NOTE:  In Chapter 1, the author and his college fraternity brother,  aboard a 25-foot  twin outboard-powered  plywood hull left Seattle, motored through Puget Sound  into the island-strewn coastline off Vancouver Island, crossed the Georgia Strait and wound their way up the narrow confines of the Inside Passage to Stuart Island,  which lies astride the tide ripped Yuculta Rapids which flush the waters of 50-mile long Bute Inlet, a narrow fjord bisecting the permanently snow-capped British Columbia Coast Range.  The journey toward Alaska continues)
 

        We pulled out of  Stuart Island’s Big Bay Marina into the fearsome Yuculta Rapids as a 30-minute slack tide period calmed this watery maelstrom.  We didn’t pause to join a dozen small boats seeking Salmon at the calmer edges of the rapids (typically, well-heeled sportsmen from Vancouver and Seattle take float plane transportation up here to seek jumbo King Salmon).  We negotiated the twisting narrows of the Cordero Channel past Frederick and Phillips Arms, then threaded between East and West Thurlow Islands into Johnstone Strait.  This passage is long, straight and known for featuring “square waves” as it carries the alpine gales coming off the spectacular mountain backdrop to the east. 

Limited to our brief three week time frame to reach Skagway, Alaska and return to Seattle, we bounced our way through Johnstone for a full and tiring day to find a fueling rest at Alert Bay as night came down.  This is what by then seemed a metropolis, sited on a small island at the southern end of the Queen Charlotte Strait and boasting a well-stocked market, laundrymat and liquor store.

At daybreak the nest morn we left island shelter and headed into a fog bank hanging over the Strait.  Here we relied upon my Coast Guard training, our compass and a prayer to enable sailing blind into the ocean swells coming off the North Pacific.  It was somewhat comforting to remind ourselves that the Haida Indians in centuries past  frequently negotiated these unfriendly waters 
in their 30-man paddle powered cedar craft from their Queen Charlotte Islands home as far as northern California…earning their sobriquet by historians as the ”Vikings of the North Pacific.” 

This crossing was not conducted under good conditions for our light and tiny craft, but the motors, fuel and our stomachs held for the 50 rolling miles before we emerged into the sheltered waters  of  Fitzhugh  Sound off the mainland coast and a portfall at Goose Bay.  While refueling, we got a lecture from a pair of commercial fishermen concerning our folly in forging this far north in a flimsy outboard-powered hull.  Undaunted, we sailed the next dawn past the commercial cannery pier at Namu and into Bella Bella, a gas and beer stop, before steering into the thoroughly wilderness waterway of Tolmie Channel and an anchorage at a small bay featuring a beach loaded with Butter 
Clams and a haven for Dungeness Crabs which crawled into our baited (with bacon)a trap.  Bottom fish were easily hooked here, but no Salmon graced our table.

Alaska ferry leads the way

Next morning we refueled at Prince Rupert, final Canadian port prior to Alaska.  A brief but rough crossing of Hecate Strait found us trailing an Alaska ferry.  This brought us into Alaska and a pause in Ketchikan, which lived up to its reputation as Alaska’s rainiest community.  Ust west of the port we trolled flashers and snared a pair of 10-pound Silver (Coho) Salmon, one of which we presented to a grateful tourist in Ketchikan.  On to Petersburg, after an overnight in Wrangell and further successful Salmon fishing en route to Sitka (angling so successful that it became “catch and release” as 30-40 pound Kings (Chinook) assaulted our lures).  A day in Sitka was spent visiting restored historic structures dating back to the Russian colony of 200 years before.

We next landed in Juneau, Alaska’s sea and airbound capitol (after brief overnights at Angoon and Hawk Inlet).  Of course we toasted a memory of Jack London in Juneau’s waterfront Red Dog Saloon, opened in the 19th century.  We had no sooner downed our first pints when the bartender vigorously rang a ship’s bell behind the bar.  This, he explained, was a signal to local patrons to clear the premises in favor of a cruise ship load of tourists about to explore history.

We departed Juneau with the intent of visiting Glacier Bay National Park to the west, but fog intervened and we found port in Haines, last stop before Skagway, and a ferry landing for those accessing the Alaska Highway, leading to Anchorage and Fairbanks.   Our three week time frame had been more than halved and we were happy to dock in  Skagway,  historic jumping off place for the Klondike Gold Rush and the challenge before would-be miners of fearsome Chilkoot Pass.  Skagway preserves wooden structures along its main street that were erected for that storied rush of fortune seekers.  Now it was time to reverse our course and face the days on the bounding main and forested waterways that would lead back to our Seattle departure point.

© 2003 Oregon Magazine  Graphics link to their source