Transitions

A toast to the newlyweds


Tana (the bride) changes into her dancin' clothes and gets down after the ceremony

Not sure how this guy was, but Melissa seemed to like him.

My mom and brother drive away in my car. It's just me and my bike now.

Stopped in to Tana and Rick's while out on a warm-up/test ride with the bike and trailer partially loaded.






The Return to the Lower 48
The ferry ride south is filled with wind, rain, and me catching a cold. I am not used to moving that fast on the water, and it is all kind of a blur. Tana generously picks me up at the Bellingham ferry terminal at the crack of dawn to bring me back to Port Townsend. I am sad to leave Alaska, but Port Townsend is such an amazing place to land.

The Weddin'
We begin work on the property later in the day as Tana and Rick's wedding is only a few days away. We start with arts and crafts, making signs for parking, recycling, welcoming... Tana and Rick comment that it feels like it has started with the arrival of Alex, Cheryl, and myself to begin helping out.
Over the course of the next few days family and friends begin to arrive and it all gets going. A fantastic group of people, Tana and Rick's family and friends, so much love and support.
On Thursday and Friday a number of old friends from our days in Yosemite arrive. I have been to 6 or 7 weddings with this crew and it is always the same. Huge hugs all around, stories and reconnection's of where everyone has been, what they have been up to, and where they are headed, followed by everyone jumping in full force to prepare for the wedding. There is a tremendous outpouring of love during the ceremony and early on in the reception, followed by hilarious antics and raucous dancing into the night (fun like I have no where else). In the morning we prepare some food, tell more stories, and clean up the entire site. I feel so lucky to be a part of this community where everyone comes together and gives of themselves for the greater good.

That Damn "W"
Sunday afternoon I head to Seattle to meet up with my mom and meet her cousin who lives in Seattle. We have a great time, though it is a little shocking to be back in a city.
On Monday, I head to the auto mechanic again (more on that later) then off to the airport to pick up my brother Brian (he and my mom are driving my car and boats back to the Bay Area). As it turns out, Bush is flying in to Seattle to speak at a fundraiser for some other whack job. His plane arrives at the same time as Brian's and he is speaking at the hotel where my mom is staying. It is only $1,000 per plate and the 20 minute speech or $10,000 to personally say what up dog? I mull it over and decide to take one for the team, plunk down my cash and have a short chat with the man. I tell him about how I am taking this trip down the coast and how something like 2,500 miles will be via human power (me in the bike and kayak), and how if more people got around like this it could make a real difference in the world and particularly the U.S.'s contribution to climate change (or as I like to call it, Global Climactic Destabilization--I picked this one up from David Orr at Oberlin College). He nods, mulls it over, and tells me he likes what I have to say and will run it by Carl. I think I am in?!
What really transpired is an absolute mess, traffic on I-5 comes to a standstill for more than 30 minutes, all the over and underpasses are blocked, police and FBI are everywhere, Bush raises $500,000 in less than an hour, total zoo at the hotel where my mom is staying. But here is the part that got me thinking. Bush is in the state of Washington for less then 2 hours during which time thousands upon thousand of local tax dollars are spent on law enforcement, transportation issues...thousand of people are forced to sit and wait for 30 minutes to 2 hours so they can clear the freeway for his motorcade (even while he was at the hotel no one was allowed to travel on the overpasses and underpasses, so you just had to sit and wait). All the while, he is here solely to raise money for a Republican Congressional Candidate, he isn't even doing any business related to "running" the country, and everyone else has to pay for it! It is a rude return from the relative simplicity and clarity of kayaking in Alaska and celebrating love in Port Townsend.
Despite all this, I have a great visit with my mom's cousin, my aunt and uncle and cousins, before heading back to PT with my mom and brother.

Time to ride
It takes 4 trips to 2 different mechanics to get my car running well again (including cleaning out 2 nests of mice that have set up shop in my heating system). The bike is all tuned up and ready to go. I am happy to pear down my gear and get out of the car. My brother Brian and I loaded up the kayaks on top of the car, big hugs and safe travels all around, then off they drove. What will take me the next month to complete, my mom and brother will knock off before I finish this entry.
We joke about me holding on to the car as it pulls out, but a little reality sets in. As they pull away I feel a bit of panic. I have never done this before (bike touring) do I have everything I need? Too much? I head back inside the yurt to catch my breath when I hear the sound of 2 year olds, Chloe and Sam. I head back out to visit and am instantly put at ease with the simple joy of playing and exploring in the yard outside the house. I am grateful for the lessons that little one's can teach me.
I am heading out tomorrow, ready to be on the move again and excited to try something new (the learning curve will be steep). I am planning to reach the Oregon border in a week or so then another 10 days to the California border, followed by another 10 days south to the Bay Area. My goal is to be in Point Reyes by Friday, September 28 and spend 2 days of van supported riding at about 15-20 miles per day to get into the city. This will allow for others who are not used to riding 50 mile days with gear to come join in my adventure. Mark your calendars, and get in touch to come join on this section of the ride. It would be really fun to have a good group of folks camping and riding together. I will post more later when I have details lined up.
Thanks everyone for the blog comments, phone calls & messages, and emails. As of right now, I won't see anyone I know for the next month until I reach Point Reyes. Keep in touch, it is a huge boost to my spirit.

Sun, Bears, and the wacky end to my time in Alaska

Bob Carter drops us off in the Wrangell Narrows to continue our journey south

Brian glides through the glassy water as we approach the "Narrows"

Salmon filling the river (just about everything that is not white foam in the picture are Salmon)

Black Bear with a Salmon

Nothing like fresh blueberries gathered from the forest to spruce up granola

Taking care of some boat repairs after I chipped the bottom of my boat on a rock

Brian tries to thumb a ride from one of the "Duck Boat" tours, just one of the many gimmicks designed to separate cruise ship tourists from their money

Kajuk (a fabled bird) atop a totem pole in Ketchikan

I pull together a nice shirt and tie for the wedding (pictured here with the maid of honor, Diana)





Departing Petersburg

Phil flew out to head home and Brian and I began our trip south together. We will travel though 3 passages with "narrows" in the name, places where the flooding tide enters simultaneously from the north and south and then ebbs from the center out. Bob is gracious enough to drop us off further down the Wrangell Narrows, giving us a jump on our first day. We camp out on a small island in the middle of the channel and watch fishing boats, ferries, yachts, and other boats pass by all night. After seeing very few boats up close on the first two legs, it is fun to see so many different types of boats up close.
On our third day, we enter the our second channel named "The Narrows" on the east side of Wrangell Island. The conditions are as glassy as I have ever seen and we paddle for hours in a meditative state. Forward motion beckons as we ride the current through a blank canvass toward the narrows. The light fades into darkness and we haven't seen a spot to camp for hours. It is well after dark before we decide we can make do with a wet, rocky, buggy, grassy site in order to grab a few hours of sleep before catching the next tide. What we gave up in comfort was more than rewarded in experience. At 3:00 AM, I am startled awake. My eyes pop open as I listen before they begin to droop, heavy with sleep. Again, I am startled awake...this time I listen. The night is foggy and still, Brian and I are the only humans for many miles. From across the shore a solo howl, greeted by another and another. I wake Brian up. For 10 minutes the entire world is the little cove, the fog, the wolves, and us...surreal. My last trip up to Alaska, twice I found fresh Wolf tracks on the beach below my tent, the trip before that an encounter from 20 yards away. There is no other experience I have ever had with animals that is quite like that of the wolf. They move in what I can only describe as their own bubble, their own energy, their own world, all of which envelopes you within encounter. Even with the bears and whales, I still feel that I am myself separate from them, but in encounters with wolves I feel absorbed into their world, not separate but not the same. It is dream like.

Anan Creek Bears

Anan Creek is renowned as a Bear viewing spot. There are gun toating rangers, and viewing platforms in order to minimize the risk and protect the interests of humans and bears alike. After a morning of lounging in the sun, we paddle a mile across the channel to the mouth of the creek. The walk is a 1/2 mile boardwalk trail with signs of bears everywhere, scat on the boardwalk, prints, trails crossing the boardwalk...
We spend a few hours observing the bears and chatting with rangers and other visitors. This is one of the few places anywhere, where Brown and Black Bears feed side by side. There are cubs in the trees above us, sub adults below the platform, and many more adults in the creek below.
The creek is teeming with Salmon, thousands of them making their way up river to spawn and die, feeding bears, eagles, gulls, and the forest in the process. In the eddy's, Salmon gather before squirming and leaping their way up to the next level (half of them get washed back down, only to try again). The whole eddy sways with the movement of the Salmon, packed together they are almost a single entity, the individual yields to the larger whole. Salmon carcasses litter the creek and its banks. The bears are literally gorging themselves, plucking the fish, eating the brains and the eggs before moving on to the next one. Smaller bears, Bald Eagles, and Gulls gobble up the scraps. The DNA of Salmon can be found in the plants of the forest. They quite literally leave the creeks, head to sea, and years later bring nutrients from the sea back up stream to be distributed throughout the flora and fauna of the forest. I am struck by the generosity of the Salmon.
There is a hierarchy amongst the bears which is very clear. A black bear who the rangers call "Maximus" runs the show, even asserting his presence to "Geni" the Brown Bear who comes up river to feed along side the Black Bears. There is a German couple who has spent a week here, observing the bears 2-3 times a day, they are enthralled. Even the rangers are captivated, eyes partially glazed over with wonder as they take in the world of the bear.
As we paddle back to camp our sense of human time is skewed, we chat, wander, sing, and galk at the scenery, giddy with the reality of what we have just witnessed. Again, dream like.

Mr. Melley and his "sunny disposition"

I have warned Brian about being prepared for rain and about "transporting our bubble of dry." So far we have had only a slight drizzle for a couple of hours which was followed by sun. Finally on our 5th day we get rain. However, this too is short lived and quickly followed by sun...the sunshine lasts until after Brian flies home. He does not completely believe my stories of rain. Over time the rationale for the unseasonably dry weather is that it is because of Brian's "sunny disposition." Indeed he is chipper and jovial throughout, even with intense neck pain. It is a pleasure to travel with Brian, many jokes, stories, and curiosities. I feel less like I am on an expedition and more on a childlike exploration of the Tongass. Except for his inexplicable propensity to refer to himself in the third person as "daddy," I thoroughly enjoy our time together.

The rant of Sketchikan

We have a short 12 mile day to paddle through the Tongass Narrows and into Ketchikan. We ride the flood and a following sea, surfing small wind waves. As we approach town, everything changes. The narrows constrict and water gets funky, there are ships of all sizes coming and going from in front and behind us, ferries criss cross the channel from town to the airport on the other side, and there are dozens of float planes taking off and landing all around us. It is the most harrowing paddling of the trip.
We land at the harbor master dock, unable to find the kayak shop that has agreed to let us use their dock. As we unload boats, two "Duck Tour" boats drive off the street and into the water in their amphibious vehicle. They are loaded with a few of the many thousands of tourists from the cruise ships off on sight-seeing excursions.
The town seems to revolve around the cruise ships. 2-4 ships arrive in the morning and depart in the afternoon. In between there is a flurry of activity focused around getting people off of the ships and in some fashion separating them from their money in exchange for entertainment, sightseeing, jewelry, food, trinkets...This place feels fast, busy, and impersonal.
I call my mom to let her know that we are off the water and check my messages. My ferry for the next day has broken down, leaving me stranded in Sketchikan for 4 more days. The folks at the ferry are not only unsympathetic, but antagonistic. They inform me that I am not confirmed on the next ferry and that they only have to let me bring one kayak on with me. For all that Petersburg is, Ketchikan is not. It is a place that has sold out to the cruise ship industry (one of the most insidious industries I have encountered), exchanging their culture, their community, and their way of life for the potential financial rewards of extraction...extracting something much less tangible yet no less important or irreplaceable than fish, timber, or minerals.
Despite this, I try to make the best of my time here. Brian and I take a float plane/boat trip up into Misty Fjords National Monument with tourist from the cruise ships, we are as much a curiosity as anything they see on the tour. We visit the various totem poles around the city (this is one very cool part of Ketchikan, the self described "Totem Pole Capital of the World"), we wander town and watch Salmon spawn in the creeks, rest up tired and sore muscles, and hit some of the local bars at night. I settle into a hostel, hosted by a curmudgeonly old local who curses more than my worst students, meet some interesting fellow travelers trying to experience Alaska minus the eclair bar laden cruise ships, stumble upon a small group of locals playing bluegrass on a Friday night, and get invited to a wedding on Saturday night as a date of the maid of honor...see, wacky. I am stuck here trying to just go with it.
I make some calls to change my plans, cancel the next leg of paddling with Bob Harrison from Bellingham to Port Townsend, arrange for Heather Sullivan to borrow a car from Sarah McNulty and Craig in order to pick me up in Bellingham, call Dave Morris to get some help loading boats and gear onto the ferry (he and his students were scheduled to catch the same ferry out of Wrangell). Once again I am reminded of how amazing my friends and family are and how much generosity is behind turning my dream into a reality.

The Other Side of Ketchikan

It takes me a number of days, but at some point through the haze of cruise ships I encounter another side to Ketchikan. Community bluegrass on a Friday night followed by a wedding on Saturday where I meet folks living here with a deeper connection to place and community. The end of my stay here is a blast thanks to Amos, Katie, Carla and Hamilton (the newlyweds), Aaron, Nate, Angie, Kailey the Preacher Lady, Lambchop, and others. Lambchop reminds me not to judge a book by its cover and that there is much more to Ketchikan than what you might find right off the bat.

Where to next...

Tana's weddin! I couldn't be more excited about returning to Port Townsend for Tana and Rick's wedding. It will be a great reunion with old friends from my Yosemite days, my mom and brothers are coming up to visit and drive my car and boats back to the bay area (Thank you), and a visit with my aunt, uncle, and cousins in Seattle.
My whole time up here I have not had any real cravings for food, movies, not even my bed. My only cravings have been to be with friends and family, I am soooo excited to be with everyone in Port Townsend, Seattle, and later in the end of September/early October in the bay area.
My time in Alaska has been everything I was looking for and more. I feel fulfilled in ways that are difficult to adequately put into in words. I have new dreams of returning here, to explore and be immersed once again in a different way of being in the world...a different way than we even have access to any more in the lower 48.
In the end of August, I trade my kayaks for a bike and begin my tour down the coast from Port Townsend to La Jolla. I have never bike toured before, so I imagine the learning curve will be steep. It has been a number of years since I have tried something new like this and I am excited...excited to see the coast in a different way, excited to use my legs, excited to try something new.

As of now, I don't have anyone joining me for the biking leg. If anyone would like to join me for any part, just let me know, I would love the company. If you are worried about being in shape, or keeping up, don't. I still operate on "Harwell Time" never moving very fast, so come join me for a trip down the coast. Finally, thanks for the comments on the blog, the emails, and the phone calls. I love hearing from everyone, and look forward to it when I arrive in town even more than eating fried food and showering.

Mosquitoes, Rivers, and Icebergs...Oh My!!

All cleaned up for a night on the town, or at least the porch, with Brian and Phil

Taking advantage of staying in one of the back country cabins managed by the Forest Service to bake Calzones for dinner

Phil contemplates the icebergs

Bear tracks in the mud at the mouth of the Stikine

One of the cabin's we stayed in on the Stikine River

Launching on the first day of the second leg with the Devil's Thumb in view

After a long stretch and a good push on the first leg, we opt for a shorter route with more opportunity for exploration. Departing from Petersburg, we had a rare warm, clear day with full views of the Devil's Thumb (of recent fame from two of John Krakauer's books, an ominous peak). This of course turned back into cloudy skies and rain for the next 5 days. After racing through Dry Straight, where you need 8 ft of tide in order not to get stuck in the mud (this is higher than the highest tides in S.F. Bay), we hitched a ride from a jet boat up the Stikine River.

The Stikine

The Stikine is a massive river (with spring flows greater than 100,000 cfs) which extends well up into Canada for its headwaters and is fed by a number of glaciers. Some of the Alaskans we had met had told us that the Stikine was beautiful and worth checking out, when we asked about bugs, they would ponder the question then generally reply, "yeah...it might be a little buggy up there?" I have never experienced mosquitoes like we had on the Stikine. Literally, hundreds of them swarming all over us as soon as we got off the boat. The jet boat driver opened the front window to say goodbye, when he stuck his head out his eyes got silver dollar size before he quickly said, "yeah, o.k., have a great time, bye." He was gone in about 2 seconds. Inside the cabin they persisted, entering through cracks in the door, swarming at the window. Phil set his tent up inside the cabin in order to escape to his "fort." We wonder whether we have made a huge mistake?

Eventually cabin fever gets the better of us and we brave the water. We head upstream towards the glacier and with the cooling air the mosquitoes subside. Beaver, phenomenal views, and our first floating ice. The following day, we paddle up stream for a few miles to visit the hot springs (enclosed and free of bugs), the nicest public hot springs I have ever been experienced. We run into some locals (8 of them) who have one goal for the weekend, to finish at least one of the the 2 kegs they have brought (plus the tequila and the other cases of beer). With all that they forgot to bring any water or any means to purify/filter. We start to wonder how many of the other boats on the river are filled with folks boasting similar goals...suddenly I am less worried about the bears.

It is nice to paddle with 5 mph of current. We sleep in, read, cook, bake and eat (home made mac and cheese, calzones, Cinnamon rolls, strudel, foccacia bread, halibut chowder...those of you who know me know that all the above mentioned items are 100% Phil...there is a reason I brought the guy on the first two legs of the trip...beyond all of the other reasons like being a solid paddler, fun to travel with, and an all around great guy). The Stikine is a glimpse into the interior with its mountains, rivers, and bugs.

Into Le Conte Bay

As we round the bend, our first real icebergs come into view, on the horizon they look clustered and massive. My leisurely mode shifts to heightened awareness. So many different colors, shapes, sizes, textures...everyone is different. Phil paddles up to a house sized, triangular berg with a deeper blue than the sky above. I try to comprehend the story of this one berg, snow falling in the winter gets compacted by years and years of subsequent snowfall increasing in density to something like 10 times the ice in our freezers. Over hundreds or even thousands of years it continues to compact as it slowly slides and scrapes its way down the valley, transforming the rock below from a "V" shaped river valley into a "U" shaped valley characteristic of those modified by glaciers. Eventually reaching the terminus and calving off into the bay where it dove deep before surfacing 10 minutes later (long after the huge wave it kicked up has dissipated). Over many days, it slowly floats down the bay, moving out with the ebb and back in with the flood, traveling many miles while ultimately moving only a short distance each day? How many days had this berg had of its dance back and forth along the corridor of the bay? Where would it float from here? How many days would it take for the melting process to undo the many, many years it took to form?

So you can probably picture us now, floating around a little glassy eyed pontificating in truncated thoughts without much coherency. It is one of the most unique experiences either of us has had paddling, and that is just the entrance to the bay! When we reach camp that night we meet an odd character who has been there for 10 days and plans to spend 3 weeks there...he is deep in a different zone.

Our efforts to paddle to the face of the glacier are thwarted by winds pushing a river of ice down the bay. I bump into a few small bergs and feel the jolt throughout my fiberglass boat, the sound of these "taps" is as if the boat is about to be crushed. We sit in an eddy and watch the ice move past, mesmerized again. Time to move back to so as not to get trapped in by the ice flow.

We have run into our jet boat captain a few more times on the trip. The day before he brought us some Halibut which we made into chowder...MMMMMM. He is a young guy in college and each time we see him is is talking about "these college girls who are kayaking some where up here." Later in the day a group shows up in our cove, it is only the second group of expedition kayakers we have seen in our 3 weeks on the water and the first with whom we interact. Phil is on the shore chatting when I arrive... the head guide and I look at each other, he sais, "do I know you?" For those of you in the Yosemite, Missoula worlds, it is Dave Morris. The first kayakers we see and it is some one I know. He confirms that yes there was much chatting between some of his students and our jet boat captain. Some things feel so foreign to me up here and some things are universal.

We head out in the morning, picking our way through the ice flow. The water is still, as still as we have seen. We are paddling through a garden of sculpted ice, thousands of bergs in the water, on shore, of different sizes, shapes, colors...we are againg mesmorized. 5 miles of iceberg garden paddling, eddy hoping behind rock and ice eddys, a windy/wave filled 5 mile crossing and we arrive back on Mitkof Island, only a few miles from Petersburg. We decide to come in early for burgers and beer. Once again we are greeted by our friend Bob, who drives out to pick us up, store our boats, and drop us off at the hotel-what a guy!

Brian arrives this afternoon and Phil flies out tomorrow. On Sunday, Brian and I will paddle down the Wrangell Narrows (20 miles long and a few hundred yards wide at some spots) It floods from both the north and south, so we will ride the flood to the midpoint then continue south on the ebb...a feat of timing. We head past Wrangell and continue south through more narrows and down to the Anan Creek bear preserve and viewing spot. After laying over there, we will head out to Clarence Straight and down to Ketchikan by August 14th in time for me to catch the ferry south on the 15th.

Don't forget that you all can post your comments on here, I would love to hear back from folks.