THE FINISH!
11th August 2023
Day 88: Haines to Skagway
14nm
Joe had kindly leant us his truck which we loaded at about 0700 then rolled the few hundred meters down to the marina. Marty had, for the last 10 days or so, been counting down the amount of boat lifts we had to do. Each kayak is one lift. Having got more excited when eventually reaching the signal digits, he quite rightly announced “six more to go, that’s alright. Let’s get it done!” We moved the boats to the bottom of the slipway and then the pile of Whetman carry bags holding all our kit.
A slow falling tide was perfect to slide the boats down every so often compared to getting caught out by a rising tide, especially when we could see the salmon carcasses dropped in the marina, collecting at the bottom of the slipway.
Boats packed for the final time! We exited the marina and pulled a hard left to get over to our first headland of the day. Silky calm water and no breeze. We were setting ourselves up to catch the rising tide, in an attempt to be carried the 15nm north by the flooding currents into Skagway – aka Skaggers. If it was any other day on the trip, it still would have been one to look forward to. Mountains all around; a building current to aid our speed; minimal to no wind, two towns giving us various vessels to keep an eye on and a coastline to paddle close to, with only one short crossing from Nukdik Point to Low Point at the very start of the day. Although only a two mile stretch to get over, Marty decided to show off by losing his rudder bolt which left the rudder rhythmically swaying from side to side like a shark’s tail behind the boat, resulting in him having to lean the kayak over to turn it. We found a rocky beach covered in thick kelp and pulled our tool kits out. No spare bolts! Mega! Cayle came in for a better look at the malfunctioning equipment. On deciding he couldn’t step out of his boat due to the poor terrain, he positioned himself along the water’s edge to work on the rudder from his kayak. He wove cable ties uniformly through the rudder plate, securing it and restoring its functionality. After enjoying the slippery kelp rocks and wonderful biting black flies we eventually decided to depart what must have been the worst beach I think we have ever landed on. The only thing that would have made it even more enjoyable would be bad weather and breaking waves. We were now literally on the final stretch of The Inside Passage. A straight line of 11 nautical miles! We moved along as a trio, watching the tour boats speed past. About half way to Skagway there was white spray tumbling around rocks on the shore to our right, accompanied with a roar of falling water. As we crept forward we were welcomed by a waterfall reaching high into the mountain. Tonnes of falling glacier water cutting through and down the side of this spectacular fjord. We moved into the wash and gliding through we took as many pictures as we could.
The northern stretch of the Lynn Cannal is utterly stunning on a clear day. If you haven’t been to Alaska, get yourself up to Juneau and then on up to Skagway and I promise you won’t be disappointed!! Mother Nature at her best!
The current had picked up very nicely and we were reaching over 4.5 knots. What a feeling! The last headland came into sight as did the excitement to reach the finish line, the sense of achievement of paddling 2000km, the relief to be safely off the water and of course the pride in ourselves and each other having endured this mammoth undertaking. We slowed our paddle rate down, taking it all in. Creeping around the corner to have Skagway come into view. Massive cruise ships sat along the dock. Helicopters buzzed around the airspace and more tour boats cruised through into the marina. Taking photos of the moment as we went. We knew there would be no reception party waiting for us. This wasn’t a problem. The idea of getting to the final slipway, high-fiving and getting the kit up to the hotel, showering and sitting in a bar was exciting enough. And that’s exactly what we did. Coming onto the landing together, in a row, we jumped out onto land absolutely buzzing with excitement and laughter. We had done it! No more wet tents and currents pushing against us. No more fighting dry bags into hatches or getting beaten up by the sea and weather. Our phones started to buzz with messages from families and friends who’d been eagerly watching the tracker.
We were done! This empty slipway in the corner of a little marina in a remote tourist town was the best thing we could have hoped for! The feeling was unforgettable! Paddles down, cold beers up!
Day 87: Day off in Haines
Although not ideal to be delayed at this stage, we definitely felt like a day off was needed. The bodies were feeling the effect of being on expedition for almost 90 days. We were all hugely grateful for the relatively good conditions of the last week. It could have easily been a soul-destroying few days of powerful cold winds and reduced visibility, fighting the currents, but thankfully both the sea and weather gods had congratulated us with light calm conditions during our last week in the last frontier. A day off typically means you can sort out little repairs and dings in the hull of the boats, eat normal food and talk to the locals – usually about kayaking. Shortly after sunrise the quaint town of Haines was met with dogs barking, breaking the cool silent air. It went on for a little while. I figured it was time to wake up so started to rustle out of the sleeping bag. At which point, what sounded like a heavy-footed animal ran through the bushes, away from my tent into the thicket. I checked my bear spray and stared at the blank interior wall of my tent thinking ‘that wasn’t a dog!’ Silence fell through the area again. It was about 0530 so definitely not time to be jumping out of bed on a day off. A couple of hours later, we wandered into town to find breakfast. A shop keeper stopped us, seeing we were clearly tourists she explained there was a brown bear roaming through the town, and to be watchful. I can only assume this was the charging animal in the bushes earlier. Yeah, really relaxing. We had spent weeks in the bush, seeing absolutely no brown or grizzly bears and then in the heart of a – albeit small but busy – town, there’s one just a few feet away as we slept.
We wandered the streets of Haines on the search for new clothes. The idea of getting to Skagway the next day, stinking-out whichever bar or restaurant we found ourselves in, wearing grotty camping clothes, probably would have got us moved on, distracting us from the celebratory mood.
Day 86: Anyaka Island to Haines
13nm
Thankfully the day was easy and the paddling was smooth as we made good time along the coast. The usual procedure – as history will prove – when heading towards a town or resupply port is having wind and tide punching hard from ahead, making a particularly undesirable day out and slowing us to a dismal speed, ensuring team morale is on the edge. I suppose another way to think about it, which I certainly don’t agree with, is that the beer will taste that much sweeter; I don’t like sweet beer so bollocks to that. I’m obviously allergic to hard work – let’s get there already! We came around the final headland to find the little but hustling port of Haines. The Queen Elizabeth sat on the commercial dock, dwarfing the small Alaskan fishing town. The fishing boats were buzzing through the entrance of the marina. We had made plans to meet up with Joe Oesterling from the local kayak guiding company, Seak Expedition. He had incredibly kindly offered a space to camp and a lift from the marina with all our kit. Once again a good person giving their time and effort. Thank you again Joe.
We got set up at Joe’s and headed to the nearest pub to inhale pizza, having almost forgotten to eat due to the desire to get to Haines quickly. The usual pre departure planning started for the following day, in the comfort of the pub, Alaska Icy Bay IPA in hand. Our excitement was squashed as the weather forecast revealed thunder and lightning within the next 24 hours. It was a pretty frustrating reality but meant we could relax that evening. At least the last packing of the kayaks wouldn’t be in the morning. Having pitched camp at Joe’s we crawled into the tents knowing we had time to sort out a few jobs the next day.
Day 85: Point Sherman to Anyaka Island
31st July
15nm
The morning started with a longer than usual carry of the boats over mini football sized boulders. The type that roll away as soon as your foot touches them. I honestly don’t know how no one on the team injured themselves during this process. The boats are awkward to carry, even on flat terrain – the likelihood of straining a shoulder or back is high. With the boats loaded and the tide on the way in, we set off in the search of a freshwater stream. About 2.5nm up the coast we found Comet creek, a few layers of small whitewater rapids punching through the bottom of the tree line. We left the kayaks on the rising tide, attached to a safety rope, taking the water pumps, bear spray and a banger. Streams can mean salmon, salmon means bears. Sure enough there was flattened grass and fish carcasses along the bank of the stream. There was even a wildlife camera attached to a tree. We fired a banger off and got pumping. Salmon were swimming past, knocking into our feet and wriggling and flapping up the rocks through fast-flowing river water as we filled water bladders.
Back on the water, we planned to head up the coast as far as we could before cutting west to the Chilkoot Islands. As the wind started to increase from the south we thought it safer to just start the 4.5nm crossing. It was wet and wild for an hour and a half, the boats getting hit on the port aft quarter and almost being pushed around into the wind. This was whilst being surrounded by the Kakuhan mountain range and Mount Sinclair over to our east, the coastline we had paddled up, and over to our west sat a line of absolutely monstrous mountains for as far as you could see, all with glaciers perched between peaks. Colossal white lines of waterfalls cutting through the blanket of forest down the faces of almost every mountain.
Again the wind helped us fly over to the islands and we found shelter on a north facing beach for some well-earned rest. Sitting in a kayak for hours at a time becomes uncomfortable. Knees up to the side of the cockpit, back rest slipping out of position forcing bad posture, bum getting progressively numb on a hard fibreglass seat and toes throbbing with pins and needles from continuous pressure on one footplate as you try to hold your heading. As the waves collapse over the deck attempting to roll the kayak, your core constantly contracted whilst hips try to stay relaxed, with knees rubbing against the interior of the vessel as your legs simultaneously strain in conjunction with the rest of the body to create power. The forearms and wrist start aching and the body shifting and wriggling begins. After at least two hours of this, finding a suitable beach to land on becomes paramount as not drinking enough water, or eating something in rough conditions offers a potentially hazardous situation. So when we eventually landed in the haven of the north facing beach, there was a mad scramble to stand up, stretch, eat, drink and pee all at the same time. Having started the crossing early, we had effectively cut off about a mile and a half of the route, resulting in only about a mile left to run. Our planned campsite was southeast-facing which presented a short and sharp barrier of surf onto a rocky beach. Less than ideal.
A dilemma to solve, thankfully not too frequently, has been arriving at a campsite beach with a hard landing – leading us to question whether to push on to the next potential site. What happens if the next one is a bust and you then quickly find yourself very late in the day, tired and hungry and still on the water. As a rule of thumb, when you find a suitable spot and can make it work – even if having to break through the surf or sending a full attack into the tree line armed with unsheathed saw and secateurs – then make it work. We made our approach one by one, heading up-wind initially to then turn down eyeing the landing point. Spray deck off, legs out and rudder up. At the earliest point, get feet onto solid ground in an attempt to stop the boat ridding onto the rocks. Nailed it. Up and out, paddle in one hand, bow of the kayak in the other, lift and dragging her high enough for the keel to pass over the low lying obstacles in the wash of the pounding waves. Second boat in. Third boat in and safe. The boats dragged up a few feet allowing us to pull bags out and lift them to safety. Cutting our way through small fern trees and thick bush, we found a perfectly sheltered area to erect tarps and tent in preparation for the wet weather that evening. Sitting on the beach that evening, studying the topographic contours of the rows of mountains surrounding us, we got chatting about repeatedly knocking knuckles and reopening old cuts when loading the boats. Looking at the end of his thumb, Cayle squeezed the tip, where his nail would have been before being injured. He explained the small swollen bubble was a shard of bone pushing through. The pressure of the glove attaching his left hand to the paddle, because of his lack of fingers, had pushed this shard out to the side creating a new, very painful small exit wound. Suddenly my little blisters and scratches seemed absolutely inconsequential. The fact that a bone was growing through the skin causing undoubtable misery and he simply was getting on with it. It’s all too easy to forget what others are going through, especially when we’re all tired and concentrating on either navigating or bears or moving kit up and down the beach etc. Cayle has repeatedly commented on feeling useless when we move the boats over the boulder field beaches, not being able to help. Thinking of those who served in war; most of us civilians probably can’t comprehend their capabilities during their military careers. To have this taken away; to have to deal with different injuries in their everyday lives and then attempt to take on challenges like this adventure is true testament to how extraordinary this team and other members of the wounded and ill veteran community are. The fact that Cayle has worked for years on this project, creating a 2000km route through remote and complicated tidal coastline, working through tidal rips and around 100ft wide whirlpools, ensuring a level of safety throughout our time here on behalf of the entire team only proves his level of ability. Sure, I can carry a kayak up a beach, but I promise you I can’t do what he has done.
The day was done and we were warm, comfortable enough, well fed with the added excitement of heading to civilisation the next day, Haines, leaving only one more day to Skagway. This could potentially be the last time we had to camp and certainly the last time we would be wild camping. The comforting thoughts of hot showers and clean linen was truly exciting. I believe the realisation of the end of this adventure was also occupying our minds. All the great places, the good, the bad and the tough times. The light at the end of the tunnel was bright and clear.
Day 84: Benjamin Island to Point Sherman
30th July
19nm
We started early, ensuring we had the current in our favour for the majority of the day as well as the predicted building wind in the afternoon. We departed Benjamin Island well rested and eager to get up to Berners Bay having been informed of a hot-spot for bears at the river nearby. It’s a great feeling when the currents and wind do as they’re supposed to. We were flying! Compared to the few days before Juneau, white knuckles and gritted teeth, this was a dream. We got up to Point Bridget, the entrance of Berners Bay, welcomed by a view that left us speechless. Still, cold glacier grey/green water overlooked by enormous snow, ice and rock. It was so calm that paddling forward created the illusion of being stationary. A slight haze almost hiding the horizon from plain view. We moved further into the bay to try an observe the grizzly bears. Unfortunately we were met with some sort of a emergency service siren. Assuming that every bear in the immediate vicinity would have turned tail, we did the same.
We glided over the four mile crossing to Point St Mary, collecting the northbound currents that carried us along a peaceful coastline in the afternoon sunshine, until eventually the wind started to appear across the water. It was awesome! With wind and current in the same direction, our kayaks sliced through the water at over 4 knots with minimal effort on the paddles. This is my type of paddling! I pulled my umbrella off the deck and held it up and open in front. 5.5 knots! Not the most stable or even comfortable method but a good laugh none the less. Cayle rafted up to my kayak and we ran down wind for a couple hundred meters. This would work in the unique scenario of dealing with a tired or injured individual, using the wind to your advantage. More importantly, the umbrella is awesome!
The wind was gusting up to 20 knots now, lifting small white horses over the disturbed surface of the Lynn Canal. On our approach to the campsite beach, we found similar beaches that we knew could be used if necessary. Eventually we arrived at our destination and found a long beach of small grey pebbles and shingle. Ideal! This meant dragging the three boats up the beach rather than the awkward carry. Dry bags out, and we determined if we can sleep on the beach or in the woods. During this assessment we found multiple fresh bear tracks, some large with accompanying smaller prints.
This is exactly what you don’t want to see. A mother and cubs. Apparently, generally speaking, there are three scenarios that a bear will attack. A mother defending her young; if they are eating; and finally if they are surprised. Bears don’t want anything to do with humans so they’ll typically avoid an encounter if they can help it. Safe to say, the feelings are mutual when standing at the forest edge in the middle of nowhere. The three types of bears in the Canadian and Alaskan Inside Passage are black, brown and grizzly. The polar bears are much further north. An easy way to remember how to behave if you find yourself face to face with one of the above; if it’s black fight back, if it’s brown get down and if it’s white good night. This did cause some confusion with a family member, who shall remain nameless; “If it’s black, ATTACK!” The term ‘fight back’ specifically means to defend, i.e. make noise, throw stones etc. The idea of walking straight up to a fullgrown black bear, shouting “come here you big hairy bastard” whilst throwing a couple of jabs and an upper cut had me in tears! One thing you shouldn’t do is turn and run from a bear. This will only encourage them to chase and attack you. This obviously doesn’t apply if you know you can run faster than Cayle though – then you’re safe. There were signs of bear activity throughout the adventure. Footprints, huge piles of crap, fish remains next to rivers, flattened grass and half grazed water grass. Each one is enough to make you concentrate on dealing with food and cleaning products correctly. We’d only seen black bears during our time in country, but knew we were deep in grizzly territory now. The potential of being close to a grizzly mother bear with cubs is about as bad as it gets – at least in my amateur mind. We quickly backed away from the tree line, pulling out the bear banger and firing it up, into the wind. The decision was then made easily: beach camping.
The next questions, every evening, are how high and what time is the next high tide? Looking at the line of sea weed at the top of the beach can help but in most cases, the tide could be much higher or indeed lower each night. Using the Navionics app we found ourselves bang in the middle of two tide indicators which were obviously reading completely different figures. One much higher than the other but at very similar times, around 2am just for our convenience. We started to pitch tents. A great game to play in 20 knots of wind, on a shingle beach with no chance of getting a tent peg in the ground. Rocks and logs were gathered to weigh down the three fragile canopies. We lit a fire shortly after. Not to dry out kit, nor to keep warm, as the sun was still up high and working hard. The afternoon’s powerful wind, would carry the smell of smoke down, along the coast and through the forest. With the incredible strength of a bear’s nose (10 times stronger than a dog’s) we figured we should get the fire going sooner than later so as to disguise the smell of our Chicken Alfredo and Beef Marinara freeze dried dinners. I can’t tell you if having a fire is a known bear deterrent. I can tell you, we had a fire and didn’t get eaten, so thumbs up!!
A huge part of the fun we have faced during the adventure is working in extremely strong tides. Whether it’s the strength, direction or height, like the powerful winds from the mountain tops or Pacific Ocean, they dictate our progress and level of safety every day. The fear of getting flooded in the night is a real one. Having icy cold water run through your tent and spread your kit randomly in all directions would be a particularly rude awakening. Cayle and Marty set their alarms for 1am and watched the approaching water level for a couple of hours, hoping and praying we wouldn’t have to start moving tents up the beach, over the 10 meters of high standing grass and into the forest. I can’t say I was too nervous about this tenuous ordeal, mainly because I forgot to set an alarm and managed to sleep through the night without hearing the lapping shoreline a mere one meter from my tent at its highest point.
