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The next morning we
ran for about three and a half hours, up into another arm, this one
surrounded by Glacier National Park. On the way in we dropped shrimp
and crab traps and passed a tour boat, our first real company. Later,
on another kayak tour up a small creek, I found steaming scat, indicating
I’d just missed Mr. Griz. I quietly paddled to a rock on which
was perched an imperial bald eagle who tolerated my approach until I
was close enough to hit him with the paddle, then leisurely departed
for a nearby pine.
Underway by 8:30 the
next morning, we stopped to pick up the well-loaded traps—fresh
seafood for dinner! Passing Point Adolophus, whose plankton-rich waters
make it southeast Alaska’s whale-watching capital, we arrived
at Hoonah, where on my previous trip the breakwater had been lined with
50-some bald eagles; today there were none. I kayaked over to the island
cemetery to watch native Alaskans pulling weeds and planting flowers,
and although white men are forbidden ashore, I did paddle close enough
to get a good look at an authentic totem.
Our next stop, Tenakee
Hot Springs, which I’d visited on a bareboat charter five years
ago, is justly famous for its mineral baths, but before indulging, we
hiked up a trail to a footbridge, hoping to see grizzlies. We weren’t
on the bridge five minutes when three males came sauntering down the
creek, one stopping beneath us, then scrambling up the bank and pausing
on the path not 50 feet away. He was so close I could smell his musk,
and my heart continued to pound long after he departed. That night we
recalled our brush with wild Alaska over a Mexican feed of chiles rellenos,
Spanish rice, cheese enchiladas, jalapeño bread, and homemade
salsa.
Our last anchorage,
Poison Cove, is a short way from Deadman’s Reach. Legend has it
the names stem from an incident in which occupying Russians forced natives
to show them their best fishing holes, then made them fix dinner. The
natives retaliated by serving up some of the indigenous poison clams.
The Ruskies died by the time they came to the reach.
By 11:30 the next
morning, we’d passed Mt. Edgemont, the dormant volcano at the
mouth of Sitka harbor, and were tied up. Gauthier, Miller, Cash, and
Brown were already planning next year’s charter itinerary. Eavesdropping,
I wondered if every trip to Alaska is unique and thought maybe I should
drop a hint that I’m available.
Ursa Major Phone:
(206) 310-2309. www.myursamajor.com.
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