Free to Drift

After Amy left, it was the first time Mason and I didn’t have an appointment until mid-August. Weeks 1–4 were packed with family, friends, repairs, and hustling to meet up with people. Now we had six whole weeks to chart our own course and move at our own pace.

We left Hoonah on June 26 and sailed to Tenakee Springs, a tiny town of about 100 people. The final 10 miles in, we flew the gennaker without the main and cruised along in 10–12 knots of breeze. Gennakers are powerful giant balloon sails that pull the boat forward. Ours is on a furler, which usually lets us douse it from the cockpit.

About five miles out, the wind picked up to 15–18 knots, and the sail wouldn’t furl. Normally, we’d turn downwind and use the mainsail to “blanket” the gennaker, collapsing it. Without the main, the gennaker stayed fully powered, and we could not furl or douse directly the two of us.

Since we were flying downwind, we couldn’t raise the main and instead ran a quick stop maneuver: Mason held the halyard, and rounded the boat sharply into the wind. I was on the foredeck ready to gather the collapsed chute and he timed the halyard release so the gennaker fell to the deck when we were directly upwind. Upon reflection, we were proud of our communication in the stressful situation and thankful for our MOB quick-stop training. Next time, we will have the main up before we raise the gennaker, even in light air.

The highlight of Tenakee Springs was the 106-degree natural sulfur hot spring, turned bathhouse by the locals. We’re pretty sure all 100 residents bathe there. Pleasant commune vibes. The bathhouse had posted hours for men and women, so Mason and I took turns soaking and strolling along the town’s one road, admiring the quirky and self-sufficient homes. The creativity in that tiny community is seriously impressive.

On another note, our gym program has officially commenced. Mason announced to all our Seattle friends that he was going to get “swoll” on this trip, then immediately made fun of me for bringing adjustable dumbbells and adding 100 lbs of weight to the boat. But let me tell you, there will be no swelling pf anything without something to pick up and put down.

We arrived in Sitka on July 1st and were psyched to see civilization. We spent three nights anchored off Eliason Harbor where we pulled out the bikes, pedaled to the south side of the city, and capped off the evening with an Alaskan brewery beer. On the Fourth of July, we watched the parade featuring Smokey the Bear, a Coast Guard flyover, an Alaska Airlines cherry picker fully extended, and Lady Justice.

Another important stop was the fishing store. Our trolling rod, destroyed by Amy and me in Glacier Bay, was retired, and we picked up two cheap casting rod for fun. Armed with new gear and a couple of Two Hearted Ales, we took the dinghy to Herring Cove. We casted lines for an hour with no luck (but plenty of jumping fish), then tried a rocky area upstream. To our surprise, we caught a rockfish! I launched it into the dinghy where it flopped madly. Both of us froze. I was so amped with dopamine, which quickly turned to panic at the idea of killing it. Mason, equally unsure, suggested we put it back in the water while we Google what to do. The fish quickly flopped off the hook and swam away. We were stunned we caught something, disappointed we froze, and frankly terrified to catch another.

Also while in Sitka, we reached out to fellow CCA member Erik de Jong, who had posted about dock space four years ago. Turns out we were the first to take him up on it. Erik and his family are seriously impressive. He grew up in the Netherlands where he designed and built his steel boat, Bagheera, during university. For the past 20 years, they’ve spent 6–9 months a year sailing in northern latitudes, taking scientists and photographers on expeditions. Sitka has been their home base for the past decade. They winter there and live aboard Bagheera during the summer.

On the one sunny day, we hiked to the top of Mount Arrowhead (3,800 ft), which totally wiped us out but was worth it for the stunning views. Alaska really is the PNW on ’roids: extreme wildlife, extreme scenery, and extreme rain. When it poured, we did laundry on shore, wandered through Totem Park, and went a little stir crazy. Mason has started designing Backtrack 3.0, and I finished the Crescent City books by Sarah J. Maas.

On July 9, we said goodbye to Erik and left Sitka with full tanks (batteries, propane, water, diesel, gasoline), fresh oil, clean laundry, and weeks’ worth of provisions; ready for another 2–3 weeks off-grid. We anchored in Kalinin Bay and loaded up the dinghy for another fishing mission, this time just outside the anchorage in the open Pacific.

This time, we came prepared: gloves, pliers, and a plan. Mason hooked a fish almost immediately, and I scrambled to get the gloves on. I had a knife ready, planning to stun the fish with the blunt end and cut the gills, but panicked when it started thrashing. So instead, when the fish calmed down, I stabbed it near the gils and basically sawed its head off. Not ideal, but we were psyched to have caught our first fish. A second followed soon after, and we repeated the process. Through the trauma, it was honestly very cool to eat our catch for dinner. Each fish was only about eight inches long, and frankly, I have no idea what we’re going to do if we catch something bigger.