Justine’s Blog

Today we hoped to paddle over 1,000 nautical miles since Adak. Just two 11 mile crossings stood in our way. A gentle side wind looked promising but within 20 minutes it found its inner demon and started blowing 25 knots turning a flat sea into a rolling, tumbling, crashing wet and cold fairground ride. Sarah kept disappearing behind breaking crests then reappearing with spray on her face. Happily she was singing to herself in conditions which would have seen her paddling defensively and occasionally squealing at the start of the trip!

We’d been warned that North westerly winds accelerate out of these large bays and can be 10 knots higher than the forecast. Now we know why! We put the sails down as we were worried they’d get damaged in the gusts but still made good progress as an element of the wind was slightly helpful. After lunch on the mainland, we made a one mile crossing to a small island which took half a hour as the wind here was more against us. We debated going for the next 11 mile crossing- it would be possible but slow and tiring. We decided to camp early instead after about 991 miles. We’ll hopefully rest, catch up on sleep and have an early start tomorrow. It’s a similar forecast tomorrow but with a bit of luck the wind will still be asleep at 6.30am!?

We’re camped on a luxuriant bed of lush grass behind a cresent of grey cobbles that have been bulldozed into steep steps by stormy seas. It’s the only decent landing on our small craggy Island. We did find a couple of large bear prints a little way from here so we’ll be using the bear fence tonight incase they are recent. I’m looking forward to bed!

We thought long crossings were behind us once we reached the Alaskan peninsula but clearly we were wrong. The mainland is indented with so many large bays that we are often crossing them or hopping from one offshore Island to another on our way NE to Homer. Today we had a 15 mile and a 10 mile crossing, visiting 3 Islands with different characters. A light wind was behind us but dropped away after lunch. The hot sun that we’ve become accustomed to was hidden behind clouds for most of the day and the islands teased us, shrouding themselves in mist, then peaking out from the gloom. Only Castle Cape was free from cloud, a dramatic spine of rock, capped by prominent turrets, looking like a child’s sandcastle in stripy layers. This distinctive landmark marks the entrance to Chignik Bay and the start off a new weather forecasting area.

A hundred seals lay on a gravely beach on our lunchtime Island and we collected water from a pretty waterfall. Now we’re camped on a small pebble beach in between red cliffs being watched by about 20 seals bouncing around in small waves.
Tonight I massacred dinner by burning the salami and seeds that I thought were simmering gently, and melting my spoon. The salami was ok if you imagined it was pork scratchings but the seeds ( and spoon) were beyond hope. Fortunately a very hungry Sarah saw the funny side even after 9 hours paddling.

I’d like to share a poem by a friend Luke about an earlier experience!

The sun shone down upon the bay
The conditions were ideal
And out among the ripples
Was frolicking a seal.
Then suddenly there came a cry
which rent the morning air
“That’s not a bloody seal
It’s a hungry looking bear!”

Tonight’s campsite is one of my all time favourites. We’re on a bouldery beach with our very own shipwreck, with sea lions and squawking birds for company. From our small island, our view is the majestic sky scraper ridge of Castle Cape and neighbouring jagged peaks. A couple of whales cruised by as we ate dinner.

Today’s forecast changed overnight so despite sacrificing some sleep for a reasonably early start, we found ourselves battling an unexpected easterly wind. We resigned ourselves to not getting that far but fortunately after lunch, a southerly picked up. Up with the sails and we flew 12 miles North to our current Island, surfing away happily.

We heard and saw lots of whales exhaling today. And our necks got sore craning up at some of the most dramatic cliffs I’ve ever seen. Sarah’s footplate in her kayak broke today and she’s right now trying to epoxy, tie and cable tie the metal back together, a midnight job by head torch. We don’t seem to be very good at getting early nights as we are trying to paddle hard when the weather is favourable, and then we have various jobs to do. On that note. . Time for bed

“We won’t know if the plane’s coming or not until we hear it”, the surveyor said with a grin. That wasn’t helpful to us trying to plan when our electric bear fence might arrive and whether we’d be able to paddle today. But it was accurate. The locals have nicknames for the small airlines Pen Air and Grant aviation that service them several times a week – “When Air” and “Can’t aviation”. Mail and passenger planes are often delayed but usually due to high winds or fog, rather than the airlines incompetence. In reality, the planes bringing people and supplies are a lifeline to these communities with no roads to outside.

The plane finally arrived at 4pm and happily our fence was on it. Rena at the post office kindly let us collect the parcel on a Sunday and we decided to launch. It was nearly 6.30pm when we pushed off the beach and waved goodbye to a few new friends. Ironically the predicted westerly was an easterly across the first Bay and we were cursing the lack of beaches where we could camp nearby. The towering cliffs and spikey pinnacles were beautiful in the evening sunshine. We could see snowy mountains in the distance and the rich reds and greens of cliffs on nearby islands. Once we passed the first Bay, a light wind swung around behind us and Whales were blowing all around. One surfaced 100 metres behind us with a loud hiss. At 10.30pm we landed at the end of a long sandy beach, piled high with a hotch potch of driftwood stacked 5 or 6 logs high.

It took a while to set up the electric fence for the first time but our tent and kayaks are now encased in a 20foot square protected by 2 buzzing wires. Should any curious or hungry bear put his or her nose to the wire he should get 9 volts shooting through to his toes. It’s now late and way past my bed time.