I’ve had a frustrating day looking at a much calmer sea than forecast and wishing we’d made a crossing to the Basten islands.

We have 4 forecasts to chose from. One emailed to us from Karel Vissel and three NOAA forecasts which overlap about where we are. The NOAA ones all predicted 25 or 30 knots today from the NE or E ( and the same until Thursday). Karel’s initial forecast was NNE and dropping from 20 to 8 knots this evening. We have a 16 mile crossing to do heading north in an area with strong currents. The islands we want to get to are to the north east so we need to leave when the tide starts to go east which today was about 4am or 4pm. It only runs east for 5 hours and we probably need 6 hours to cross so the closer to the start of the easterly flow we leave the better. This also means we’d arrive at the islands close to slack water which hopefully ensures the many tidal races that guard the islands should be at their calmest. People as far away as Dutch Harbour have warned us about the Barren Islands and Jerry added to the picture yesterday by pointing on the map to where a wave smashed in one of
the windows on his boat.

Sorry if I’m boring you with details but this is one of our more technical crossings and maybe you’d like to understand why we’re being cautious and why we didn’t just jump on the water during the day when it seemed the forecasts were wrong.
The wind was maybe 10 knots from the NNE this morning so we were tempted to catch this afternoons tide. To be on the safe side, we phoned Karel is Israel to get an update for exactly where we are and he warned us that stronger winds were likely this afternoon and evening. Disappointed, we read and slept instead. In fact, when I got out of the tent to cook dinner at 7pm it had calmed right down to the extent that the midges came out to enjoy their dinner too. The never ending rain paused and the persistent mist lifted, tantalising us with the jagged skyline of the Barren islands and the snowy peaks being Cape Douglas to the West. I even think we could see the Kenai peninsula 35 miles away.

So now we’re planning to get to at 3am and if it’s still fairly calm we’ll get ready for the crossing. If we get on the water and it looks too rough then we’ll either come back or we’ll move four miles east to the easternmost headland on Shuyak Island. Then again, if it’s howling we’ll go back to sleep.

I’ve had a frustrating day looking at a much calmer sea than forecast and wishing we’d made a crossing to the Basten islands.

We have 4 forecasts to chose from. One emailed to us from Karel Vissel and three NOAA forecasts which overlap about where we are. The NOAA ones all predicted 25 or 30 knots today from the NE or E ( and the same until Thursday). Karel’s initial forecast was NNE and dropping from 20 to 8 knots this evening. We have a 16 mile crossing to do heading north in an area with strong currents. The islands we want to get to are to the north east so we need to leave when the tide starts to go east which today was about 4am or 4pm. It only runs east for 5 hours and we probably need 6 hours to cross so the closer to the start of the easterly flow we leave the better. This also means we’d arrive at the islands close to slack water which hopefully ensures the many tidal races that guard the islands should be at their calmest. People as far away as Dutch Harbour have warned us about the Barren Islands and Jerry added to the picture yesterday by pointing on the map to where a wave smashed in one of
the windows on his boat.

Sorry if I’m boring you with details but this is one of our more technical crossings and maybe you’d like to understand why we’re being cautious and why we didn’t just jump on the water during the day when it seemed the forecasts were wrong.
The wind was maybe 10 knots from the NNE this morning so we were tempted to catch this afternoons tide. To be on the safe side, we phoned Karel is Israel to get an update for exactly where we are and he warned us that stronger winds were likely this afternoon and evening. Disappointed, we read and slept instead. In fact, when I got out of the tent to cook dinner at 7pm it had calmed right down to the extent that the midges came out to enjoy their dinner too. The never ending rain paused and the persistent mist lifted, tantalising us with the jagged skyline of the Barren islands and the snowy peaks being Cape Douglas to the West. I even think we could see the Kenai peninsula 35 miles away.

So now we’re planning to get to at 3am and if it’s still fairly calm we’ll get ready for the crossing. If we get on the water and it looks too rough then we’ll either come back or we’ll move four miles east to the easternmost headland on Shuyak Island. Then again, if it’s howling we’ll go back to sleep.

It was hard to leave the comfort and company of Blue fox lodge to push off into a wet grey windy day. Our target was the North coast of Shuyak Island, the launchpad for an 18 mile crossing to the Barren Islands. Despite a NE 30 knot forecast, we crossed the tidal Shuyak strait at close to slack water in fairly calm conditions.

Jerry had told us about a a shortcut, a narrow winding psssage through the trees that is only passable by small boats at high water on big tides. We nearly couldn’t find Skiff Pass, even though we were in the right place. It looked impossible that the sea could pass through the thick forest but as we got closer a 5 metre wide sandy passage appeared snaking away from us. We followed a trickle of water for 100 metres but we were too early and the flow ended in a 6 inch deep pool. After a 45 minute lunch, the tide had filled the sandy banks to 20 metres wide and we jumped back on and rode the salty river round blind bends, under overhanging trees and past partially submerged rocks. Sarah remarked that we were “tree kayaking instead of sea kayaking”. There was no wind and it did feel like another world. Inevitably we reached the point where the tide was flooding in from the other side and now we had to fight a river flowing against us for a mile. It didn’t matter, it was a fu n
diversion from paddling into the wind and swell if we’d gone round the NW corner of Shuyak.

Soon we were on the north coast and were back fighting the wind and waves which had both picked up from the morning. We couldn’t see more than a mile away all day and a constant wet drizzle created permanent raindrops on our noses, chins and hair. We tried to dodge the waves that were breaking over shallow rocks, throwing salt water into the mix but didn’t always manage. I wanted to push on a bit further but Sarah was getting too cold so we landed on a rocky beach which will hopefully have a great view of the Barren Islands if the mist ever lifts. We’re tucked up in our sleeping bags early hoping tomorrow’s forecast for 25 knots magically changes. Due to the strong tides here, we’ll need to leave at the crack of dawn or mid afternoon tomorrow if we are able to go but at the moment Monday looks more likely.

It’s taken us over 90 days but Homer lies less than 100 miles away. The last obstacle in between us and a successful 1400 nautical mile paddle is a 35 mile crossing to the Kenai Peninsula. Guarded by tidal rips, the Barren islands mark the halfway point. They are both a refuge – a place to shelter or camp during a long crossing, and an added danger,  a rough water magnet that accelerates the wind and the currents. Half a dozen people have warned us about how rough it can get in these islands, one friend going so far as to ask us to take an alternative route. I’m used to tidal waters in Wales, and we are fit for long crossings by now but we will treat these crossings with the respect they deserve. Unfortunately the weather forecast is throwing constant feisty NE winds at us. Today’s forecast was 40 knots, tomorrow is a bit less in the morning and 35 knots in the afternoon. It’s 20 knots after that which doesn’t provide the window we need to jump our final hurdle.

Fortunately we landed on our feet again by landing at Blue Fox Bay Lodge 2 days ago, a cluster of homemade wooden cabins run by Jerry and Colleen for the last 20 years. This is the only building for miles around, nestled into the spruce trees on a corner of Hogg island. They live here with their 2 dogs who protect them from bears that occasionally swim over. Guests come for around 50 nights a year – just the right amount for them to pay their bills but not to have to work too hard. It’s clearly a lifestyle choice for them to be here. They collect rainwater to drink and wash, they have outhouses with windows built in so you can enjoy the view, lettuce, zucchini and tomatoes grow in a canvas greenhouse and the banja (sauna) that we were treated to yesterday was a magical treat. A generator provides power when they need it but most of the time they don’t. We’ve spent 2 days here recharging batteries (literally and metaphorically) and feel refreshed and ready to battle the winds again. They just returned from a resupply in their nearest supermarket which is 80 miles away in Kodiak and the larder is full. We will leave happily with fully bellies and a memory full of fun stories. For anyone wanting to kayak in this area, they have 4 Necky kayaks for rental and they can offer food, lodgings, boat drop offs and fun tales. For those enjoying a tipple, their drinks cabinet is pretty well stocked too! Contact bluefoxbay@gmail.com

We leave here tomorrow morning to head to the north coast of Shuyak. Then we’re hoping for a weather window for long enough to cross to Kenai (in 1 or 2 days), then it’s 1 or 2 days paddle to Homer. With a bit of luck and hard work, we’ll make it in time to have a small celebration, and get back to Anchorage and get sorted in time for my flight on 16th. I’m in that interesting head space where I’m looking forward to going home but am savouring the last few days of a great adventure in an amazing wilderness. We’ve met so many interesting and kind people, had incredible encounters with wildlife and enjoyed just being alive in this wild and remarkable country.