Archive for the ‘kayaking’ Category
Nikolski – The world’s oldest continuously inhabited region
Scott Kerr sniggered when I asked him if he’d see us when we showed up in Nikolski in our kayaks. As we rounded the corner into the bay and saw the compact cluster of 20 or 30 houses I realized why. As we approached the beach, 4 or 5 quad bikes pulled up in front of the houses waiting to welcome us in. 8 sets of hands clapped as half of Nikolski’s residents welcomed us warmly to their small community. We were whisked up to the luxurious lodge in a ‘Ranger’, a quad bike with 2 seats behind the driver, where we enjoyed our first hot shower for almost 3 weeks and our clothes were thrown straight into a washing machine before they could cause too much offence. The 5-bedroom wooden Lodge is mostly used by hunters who come to shoot reindeer in the Fall when their racks are biggest. We’re very grateful we are allowed to stay here and that we’ve been fed and mothered by Pam & Tom, who are here from Anchorage to oversee the painting of the Lodge.
A plaque in the Lodge describes how this is the oldest continuously inhabited area in the world. Aleuts have lived here for the last 8,000 years, with Nikolski itself being the 2nd oldest settlement and the last remaining village on Umnak island. In the 1700s before the Russians arrived there were more than 20 villages on the island. Now Nikolski has a population of just 17 people, most of whom are related. This is our 5th day here as Northerly or north-easterly winds have swept across the island most of the time we’ve been here. For me, the winds have been a bit frustrating at times but it’s been a privilege to spend time here getting to know the locals, learning some history and exploring the area. It’s a tamer landscape on the south end of Umnak than the geologically-more recent ragged volcanoes of Amutka and the islands of the 4 mountains. The land is lower and flatter, sandy beaches have had time to form, lakes sprawl across the grassland. Cattle and reindeer keep the vegetation in check and leave their marks splattered regularly around. The cattle were once farmed here but now run wild, although they are occasionally hunted for their meat. Red foxes wander past the lodge window, searching for food scraps and 2 eagles regularly give us a fly by, or sit perched on towers nonchalantly scanning the environment, ignoring me with my camera, used to sharing their space with humans.
The ever present wind, a few collapsed buildings and the impressive 7000 foot Mount Vsevidof 10 miles distant remind you that nature is in charge here. The locals enjoy that – they can fish and hunt and they support each other. The youngest inhabitant, 18 year old Eric doesn’t have his driving license yet but he’s been riding quad bikes since he was 6. Since the local school shut down, he goes to high school on the main land, but he loves it here and hopes to retire in Nikolski one day.
Flights come to Nikolski twice a week – although yesterday’s flight was cancelled due to fog in Dutch Harbour. A 1964 plane wreck above the village shows why they wait for better weather. There is a post office, community centre, tribal office and an ornate Russian orthodox church.
We spent one memorable evening drinking whisky and chatting in the ‘boat shed’ with some of the residents and 2 divers from NOAA who were here to take tide measurements and maintain equipment.
We hope to set off kayaking tomorrow when the winds are due to be lighter. From here we have about a 150-200 mile paddle to Dutch Harbour, Unalaska where we’ll find the biggest settlement in the Aleutian islands and our first and only supermarket. We’ll be mostly paddling along the coastline as we just have 1 crossing to make to Unalaska island. On our way are some hot springs, which is very exciting!
Aleutians – 350 miles in
What a month it’s been kayaking 350 miles along the Aleutian chain. I feel really lucky to be spending some time on these remote, windswept, treeless islands. One book I read described them as the jewels of a necklace across the Bering sea. I imagine some people just see barren, wet godforsaken islands but to me, and many others, they are wild, empowering, spiritual, oases (is that the plural of oasis?). The seas team with kelp, fish, marine mammals and shell fish. The ubiquitous brown hills that greet us when we arrive at every island look like at first glance like a sea of dead grass but new green shoots are springing up everywhere. Small pink flowrers, buttercups and large purple lupins give a sprinkling of colour, and in many places mosses and small bushes are so dense and springy that it feels like you are walking on a trampoline. Ragged lava flows look like they poured down the mountain last week and pretty pebbles keep finding their way into our kayaks as souvenirs. Eagles soar above us every day, seals and sea lions pop up behind us or heckle us from the rocks. The occasional otter peeps at us more nervously from a safer distance. I’ve grown to recognize the low grumble of the ptargmigan and the high pitched wail of the fox. We’ve developed a taste for beach greens and seaweeds and we’ve made good use of the dead grass and ever present driftwood to make fires to cook on.
The paddling has been challenging at times. Our longest crossing was 37 nautical miles across a pass which has a reputation for rough water and strong currents although there isn’t any reliable information about how strong or in what direction the currents go. When we can only power ourselves at 3 miles an hour, that’s pretty daunting. We waited 3 days for a good weather window and went for it. We were lucky that the wind wasn’t strong and we mostly avoided any tidal rips. The tide that we were expecting to take us north and south (away from land to the east) was totally unpredictable and had a mind of it’s own, but it only reached a maximum of about 2 knots and was giving us a slight helpful push more often than it was against us. In the end the 47 miles from campsite to campsite took us 16 hours. We landed in the dark in very little swell and shivering and tired, set up camp.
Every crossing has been different. Twice we found ourselves on a northward conveyor belt which nearly succeeded in sweeping us past our intended destination. The first time it happened, it took us by surprise as we’d only experienced a maximum of about 2.5 knots of currents in other passes up until then. Suddenly a 5knot current whooshed us northwards in an unrelenting fashion. The tides here seem to start and finish like a tap being turned on and off – there is very little easing into maximum flow and easing out of it. It’s just ‘bam’ – you’re in it! Then suddenly, within 10 to 30 minutes it reverses direction in a similar bull-in-a-chinashop fashion. It can also flood, or ebb for 8 or 10 hours on certain days which makes it hard or impossible to plan a passage where you have a similar amount of time being pulled north by the flood and pulled back south by the ebb.
Our last crossing to Umnak island was the most stressful for me. The tide tables suggested the tide was ebbing (usually going south) from 9.30am-3.30pm, at unknown strength. We got on the water at 7am to try to be pulled north by the flood for a couple of hours, in case the ebb was strong. We could afford to be pulled south more than 5 miles and still reach land. Everything seemed to be going slowly, but on target for the first 5 hours. The current was already going south, but no more than 2 knots and we were able to maintain a nearly east-bound course. Suddenly, the tap turned on and the tide started shooting south at 4 or 5 knots. We adjusted our course to try to make sure we’d reach land but the current kept swinging round so that after a couple of hours it was almost directly against us and faster than we could paddle. For 2 hours we got further away from land. We resigned ourselves to effectively treading water, minimizing the damage until the flood was due to start around 3.30pm. But by 4.30pm we were still 6 miles from land and going SSW. Finally, the current eased just a little and we were edging eastwards, but any relief was shortlived as the current swung around and started heading NW at over 3 knots. We were still going away from land, but in a different direction.
I did a quick calculation about what time it was in Britain and felt relieved that my mum was probably asleep and not following the tracker! In fact the tracker wasn’t working, which may have spared a few people wondering why we were taking such a weird course (it’s fixed now). By 5.30, the tide finally finished it’s circular swing and was heading north which was more helpful. But instead of flying towards Umnak island at 5 or 6 knots as I was hoping, the headwind that had been like an irritating fly that won’t go away, but doesn’t bite, developed into a 20 knot blast that stirred up the sea into unhelpful crests that our bows constantly crashed down into. Our 3 knots crept down to 2, then plummeted to 1.5 knots and we limped the last 4 miles to the headland we were targeting. In the squally conditions we couldn’t make out any features of the land until we were half a mile away. It was 10.30pm after over 15 hours on the water, and Sarah said jokingly (but perhaps not such a joke) that she’d cry if we couldn’t camp there. For the first time that day we were lucky and there was a beach right there. We landed and I fell over getting out of my kayak. Our planned for destination, the community of Nikolski was still 15 miles away but we were happy to be on land and safe.
After a lie in we battled more headwinds the following afternoon to pull into Nikolski at about 6pm. Half of the 16 residents met us on the beach and we are being put up at the luxurious ‘lodge’ where the guests are more usually hunters come to shoot reindeer. It’s the end of our 2nd day here, resting, relaxing, eating, resupplying, catching up with the internet and chatting with locals. It’s been North-easterlies since we’ve been here and Thursday, Friday and Saturday are due to be the same (of varying strength), so I’m not sure when we’ll leave.
Ahead of us lies about 900 more miles along the rest of the Aleutian chain and the Alaskan peninsula. Sarah remarked today that while it’s been a month so far, time has also gone really quickly. I look forward to enjoying and exploring more of this wild area over the upcoming weeks.
Nikolski… so near and yet so far
“Samalga Pass will be no problem if you’ve crossed Amukta pass”, Scott Kerr (resident of Nikolski) said on the sat phone yesterday. I remembered that with a wry smile when 8 hours in, we found ourselves getting swept away from land against a current stronger than we could paddle. I’m too tired to write more now, it’s after midnight and I’m in the tent after we finally landed at about 10.30pm after 35 miles. That’s over 15 hours in the kayak as we set off at 7am this morning. Two hours of currents which sent us south then north ( away from land) were followed by an increasing headwind which exceeded 20 knots. We crawled, no limped into shore. Luckily there was a beach right where we reached land and we didn’t hesitate to take it. We’re less than 15 miles from Nikolski and after a lie in we hope to get there tomorrow if the wind isn’t so strong.
magic day
Yesterday we landed in the drizzle and mist which enveloped us for the rest of the damp evening. It was a fine, invisible rain that wets everything. Despite an earlier finish than usual we spent ages getting a fire going with damp wood and grass. We did botch a repair on the stove and it works but we’re quite fond of fires now and make at one most campsites, especially if we have a day off.
It was great to wake up to a bright morning with no rain. We woke and cooked our second fish on the fire then took a gorgeous wall up to the waterfall which topples over a lava flow. It’s about 10 metres wide and falls maybe 50 metres or more, shooting out spray and rainbows. Sarah was the first to strip off and take a wash in the river assuring me that it was refreshing and invigorating. It certainly was invigorating as it’s basically snow melt. It was type 2 fun for me, i.e. I enjoyed it afterwards- possibly like the tidal races for Sarah?
Throughout the day, gradually the clouds lifted and the sun appeared. The sharp snowy peaks of nearby islands slowly peaked out of their veils and then shed them all together, making an impressive picture. On such a gorgeous day, the islands of the 4 mountains is a spiritual place and it feels sad to leave it soon. However tomorrow’s forecast is good- SE winds up to 5 knots so we need to take our chances when we get them. We plan to get up at first light and head East about 35 miles to Nikolski. If we end up being taken South by the tide then we’ll hit land sooner and either make our way up the coast to Nikolski or camp somewhere and head there on Monday. Sarah will have the tracker on hourly updates from about 6am our time (3pm BST). See her website www.sarahouten.com
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