DAYS 77 TO 79: SAND BAY TO JUNEAU 

29th July 2023

Day 79: Suicide Cove to Juneau 
Tuesday 25 July
19nm

Well rested and eager for a shower and food on a plate, we worked our way around the eastern coast of Stephen Passage, passing the Taku Inlet to our right. The glacier sat at the top, glistening in the bright calm of the morning. The flow behind us, with no wind to contend with, we flew round until landing on beach at the south of the Juneau channel. We quickly pulled out phones and confirmed accommodation and where to secure the kayaks. The US Coast Guard once again came to our rescue. The guys down in Petersburg had called ahead to ensure we could use their dock. Lieutenant Trevor Layman had called us before starting this adventure, when we were based in Steilacoom, offering his assistance. Being based in Juneau, he was there to introduce himself and made enquiries on our behalf to get the drysuit gaskets repaired by Glenn, a local kayak guide and professor at the South East University who incredibly kindly came to the hotel and made the repairs. They guys and girls at the coast guard station couldn’t have been friendlier. It’s this level of generosity we have experienced that really makes the trip. From the beach we moved up the channel with beers and the potential of a bed in mind. As is tradition when paddling towards a resupply town, the wind decides to welcome us in by blowing straight in our faces, slowing our progress as we fight with it, getting more frustrated as the clock keeps turning and we still haven’t arrived. Cruise ships slowly sailed passed like mechanical giants with waving guests on the top deck enjoying the sunshine, also eager to arrive at their destination. Sea planes constantly zooming overhead as they reap the benefits of the local tourism, taking folks over and through the mountains to explore glaciers. We pulled in to the dock, having to climb up on to it, leaving the boats in the water whilst dangling over the side attempting to pull all the kit out before lifting them up on to the hard ground. The day is done. Not quite. All equipment had to be trekked to the accommodation about 500 metres down the road. Thankfully Joe, a member of the Coast Guard, pulled up in his truck and told us to hop in. What a legend!! Walking down the street in a drysuit on a hot day with up to 60kg strapped to your front and back is about as much fun as it sounds and if I’m honest, doesn’t do much for one’s street cred, especially with a smell being produced that is less than desirable having lived in the suit for the last eight days. Thank you Joe, we seriously appreciated that one mate! The day is definitely now done.

Day 78: Point Anmer to Butlter Point Circle Point
Monday 24th July
15nm

Having spent nearly 80 days on exped, we have discussed in-depth what is the preferred equipment. What was completely pointless to take on the trip what is worth its weight in gold. There are the obvious bits like an inflatable mattress, mattress pump and quality sleeping bag but we have surprised ourselves with the unassuming bits of kit. I talk proudly of my umbrella. Silly I know but you have to understand in a constantly wet environment, when weighing up the limited space of a kayak, what you need and want to take with you can mean a good or bad day. The brolly sits on deck between the spare paddles. Unloading or packing a boat in a downpour is pure misery, with the mighty brolly propped up over either hatch, no water falls into the space. The topic of squatting during one’s morning routine is made even more satisfactory when the temporary shelter not only keeps you dry but also the toilet paper. As much as the lads denied it’s awesomeness, they have eventually come round to the idea that it deserves the credi

When facing a longer day, the head is in a different place in comparison to a shorter one. Somehow we convinced ourselves that shorter means easier. How naive! Head winds and sticky currents working against us……yet again! By lunchtime we had completed 10 measly miles in 7 gruelling hours. It was cold hard work, pulling ourselves passed more icebergs. Monitoring fleets of fishing boats attached to streaming nets as they attempt to catch salmon by curving their way through the little bays and inlets we were busy negotiating. That afternoon, one particular vessel was busy performing the usual display of slow and erratic progress around Limestone Inlet. This was until we showed up and she decided to crawl towards us. 70 meters and closing, 50 meters. We stop paddling. 40 meters, no change. 25 meters. A head appears from the stern with a reassuring/apologetic wave which was returned with mutual comms. Arriving again on the high tide for a short carry of the boats we performed our routine, desperate to climb into bed. With the last few days taking their toll on us and the equipment, we discussed what we need to accomplish with our time in Juneau. Originally we planned to explore Taku Glacier before heading to the Alaskan Capital but with a damaged neck and wrist gasket on two drysuits, the prospect of paddling into glacier winds and currents for a couple of extra days lost its appeal and we altered the plan to head to Juneau the follow day. 

Day 77: Sand Bay to Point Anmer 
Sunday 23rd July
19nm

A common question to adventuring is ‘why do you do it?’ Why row an ocean, climb a mountain or run marathons in the desert? The easy answer, in the words of Edmund Hillary, is because it’s there. In reality it’s different depending on the individual. Whether it’s for fame, to prove something to yourself or others, or to somehow find yourself through the suffering, or aiding a charity. When you find yourself up against the elements, there is a very fine line between success and failure. What I specifically mean is the difference between surviving the day or not. Any expedition or adventure will usually have days during which one has to question the being. The 23rd July will definitely go down into the history books as the toughest situation we had to battle through. 
We set off in the usual formation, happy with the height of tide and short carry. There was an ominous sky over us and the rain added to the fun. As we scanned the horizon turning the first corner, a large white object sat motionless a few miles away. Our first iceberg. With genuine excitement we paddled forward to Point Astley with the prospect of getting close to one of these stunning ice blocks. It was better than expected! The surface moulded by rocks from years of slowly moving down through an enormous valley under its own weight. Wind and weather forming shallow concave pits and sharp spikes. Although floating in obviously cold conditions, the berg was losing the fight to survive in relatively warm sea. As we witnessed later on that day, the displacement changes as the sun melts the top causing this massive lump to roll silently but surprisingly quickly. With the moment captured, we talked through crossing Holkham Bay – just over 4 nautical miles with, as it turned out, a very convenient Harbor Island halfway across. We kept the formation tight as usual, setting off at a steady pace. The katabatic glacier wind and deathly cold water biting our face and hands, sweeping across the starboard bow as we plunged through small waves. Paddling hard with pursed lips and puffed cheeks as we reaffirmed past injuries from weeks gone by. This pain isn’t unique, we are all feeling the strain and pressure. This gives solace as we work towards our goal. Soon enough the magnificence of Sundum Glacier reined over us. A menacing sight, cutting her way through the snowy mountains. With small icebergs randomly scattered around the bay, the tide rip appeared ahead, increasing the cold shower effect we were already experiencing. At this stage hands were painfully numb, drysuits wet and although doing their job by keeping us dry the freezing temperature was cutting straight through them. After 30 minutes it became clear this was becoming a very serious situation. In my opinion there are two factors that you unequivocally don’t want or need when working at sea or indeed on an adventure. Ego and complacency. Both of which can ultimately lead to a catastrophic or fatal scenario. We all knew how each other were feeling, battling these conditions, knowing we had to do something about it and fast. The next tide rip came through. We handled it smoothly. A question came to mind; what if? What if there is a capsize, a cramp or injury. In those conditions, it becomes a life or death situation faster than you can respond. I ran a mayday VHF procedure through in my head, checking the name of the bay, our position from the chart. We could see two small power boats maybe a mile away so either hailing them on the VHF or firing a flare in their general direction. They would be our salvation if push came to shove. We all carry PLBs (person locating beacons) that are easy to access. Once these activate, they send an SOS signal back to Falmouth Coast Guard who would then coordinate a search and rescue response. With the loss of feeling and dexterity in our hands, the likelihood of being able to climb back into a kayak was diminishing as quickly as the winds increasing. The decision was made by Cayle to get to a small beach on Harbor Island. Unfortunately the beach comprised large boulders with an uncomfortable swell moving the kayaks around. We pulled out Kokatat Storm cags, Reeds poggy gloves and warm hats with haste. Thermoses produced and coffee poured. The utterly wonderful feeling of warming up and feeling sheltered, that your preparation has paid off. Having hot water and top quality extra layers close to hand can make the difference. We moved off the boulders soon after, proceeding to Point Coke on the southern tip of Snettisham Peninsular. Jet-boils on, Expedition Foods out, umbrella up. I’ll get on to the umbrella later, it’s an incredibly versatile bit of kit!!! 
Throughout this experience, there wasn’t a negative word spoken or a voice not heard. We were cheerful. We were concentrating. We were confident in our abilities to perform. Being jovial when faced with extreme situations is the very essence of success. Marty will have something to say here, having served in 2 Para for 18 years with a distinct rivalry with the Royal Marine Corp, but the Boot-Necks say it best, “Cheerfulness in the face of adversity”. The decisions made on the water were clear cut and sensible. We laughed at our vulnerability and discomfort and we laughed more when we were warm and safe standing on the beach satisfied we had achieved the successful outcome. 
Why paddle the Inside Passage? To dance along the edge of control and disaster. Learning the skills and discipline to take on these environments and test yourself, to push further than you thought you could. To work as team, having each other’s back when the going gets tough. It is days like this, that fulfils that desire to achieve in the harshest environments. 

The afternoon was spent punching into the current en route to the campsite. Frankly, a hell of an anticlimax considering the crap we had to go through that morning. Christ! Give us a break man! At one stage Cayle named a rock Steve, due to the fact he spent such a long time paddling next to it. Eventually we crawled into the small bay just around the corner from Anmer Point, passing a waterfall with a gargantuan rock at the top, splitting the heavy stream of white water falling to the cliff floor. We hit the beach at high tide, set up camp and lit a fire under one of Alaska’s most spectacular sun sets to date. We cracked open the bottle of whiskey, cheers to the first iceberg of the trip and congratulations on keeping heads firmly attached to shoulders in what was our toughest experience yet.