We did not launch the dinghy. We had already explained to Allie that the day would come when we would actually have a beach and there would actually be a bear, or two, on the beach. No dog walkies.
We had made this side trip to visit Kasaan, a small native village that has a impressive collection of native buildings and totem poles, but no marketing. The transient moorage was awash in the 10-12 knot wind. It looked as tenuous as our cruising guide had reported. We searched for a place to anchor for the night and found our bears.
Coming out of Kasaan Bay into Clarence Strait the next morning, we cruised by a very noisy (and probably smelly) bull sea lion and his extensive harem. Except for a pod of 20-30 Dahl’s porpoises as we left Desolation Sound, we had not seen many animals, excluding Allie’s marten at Namu.
Allie loved the sea lion aroma.
An hour later, a mom killer whale and her calf swam across our bow. You’ll have to take our word for that one. Numerous pictures of holes in the water led to a policy of not trying to photograph water critters. I found that I was spending so much time trying to get pictures (so I would remember the experience) that I had no experience to remember...except trying to take pictures.
We made our way up Clarence Strait, headed for the City of Thorne Bay. Thorne Bay was the site of world’s largest logging camp in the 1960’s -80’s. The city now serves as a commercial center for neighboring communities and islands. They have most services needed and make an effort (including a professional looking brochure) to inform visitors of the history and their Alaska spirit.
We were welcomed by swarms of mosquitoes as we tied up in the early evening. Going on a preliminary Explore, we met the wife of the law enforcement officer sweeping off the City Hall porch. They have lived and worked in villages in the far north; she was delighted to be raising her children in a community where alcoholism and juvenile suicides were not the norm.
A dog friend! Back on the boat, Doug spotted a couple with a smaller-than-Allie dog walking down the dock. “Can our dog come and play with your dog?” We met Brenda and Todd and Cooper-The-Dog. As we stood on the dock talking, it quickly became apparent that the white sock mosquitoes were going to have their way with us, so we invited Brenda and Todd inside where Allie proceeded to terrorize Cooper.
Brenda is a math teacher, working in Thorne Bay; Todd teaches Industrial Arts in Craig on the other side Prince of Wales Island, a 50 minute commute. Both of them are actively interviewing since their positions were eliminated due to funding cuts. They’ve had job offers from the Lower 48, but plan to stay in Alaska.
We asked about the kids on Prince of Wales. Were there problem similar to the kids in the far north? Craig said there were a few kids with low-rider pants, but most of them trap, hunt, and fish. Having your pants about to slide off your hips would complicate any of those activities.
The schools here make good use of computer technology for “distant learning”. Brenda is well-versed in the field and loves working with teachers and students in small communities via cyber-space. The state will fund a school if there are ten students living in the area.
Before they left, Brenda and Craig asked if we would like some canned salmon and home-made wine. Of course! Brenda’s school-district-provided housing (she gets an allowance of +$400, is charged $200-something for rent, and uses the rest to pay the utilities.) was close by, so they braved the mosquitoes and came back to the boat with true Alaskan hospitality. Thank you, Brenda and Craig!
Prince of Wales Island is the third largest island in the United States: 135 miles in length and 45 miles across equals almost 1,000 miles of coastline. The following day, we headed north to explore some more of those 1,000 miles. We tied up at the Coffman Cove dock and walked up to the moorage registration shed, (take the envelope, fill it out; deposit in the slot with your $$$) then down the road to a the store, passing a small cafe. It was a gloomy day and the people we saw did not seem overly-friendly. The weather was predicted to turn to snot (AK forecasts are very straightforward) and we decided that we didn’t need to spend a night in
un-welcoming Coffman Cove. We took in our lines, and Greywolf headed for Wrangell.
Before we left on this trip, we talked about the differences between cruising to Alaska in Shaman and cruising to Alaska in Greywolf. Aside from the obvious increased comfort and increased fuel cost, we discussed another possible difference.
Shaman was a 20 year old racer/cruiser sailboat, crewed by two senior citizens; either they were very athletic and adventuresome, or they needed all the help they could get. Greywolf is a capable-looking, expensive-looking vessel; a person might infer that the crew reflected these same qualities. She is certainly not a yacht by Alaskan standards, but we are not going to elicit many offers of help, or, possibly, even a willingness to strike up a conversation. And don’t forget the very non-Alaskan-looking white Poodle.
We talked about our Coffman Cove experience later, and agreed that we might have looked like aloof boaters from the lower 48. Next time, we’ll eat at the little restaurant and make purchases at the store. We’ll initiate an effort to let people know that we love their state and respect and admire their way of life. Of course, there is the possibility that the people who live in Coffman Cove are unwelcoming and don’t like visitors. But we doubt it.
Wrangell
Rain and pizza and beer and karaoke awaited us at the Marina Bar when we tied up at 8:30 in Wrangell. “Wrangell Rain” is the standard by which we measure all precipitation. On our first trip, we came into Wrangell Harbor just before dark, (that is very late in AK) having motored for the previous four to five hours in a downpour. The dock was full. German tourists on a chartered Nordhavn 40 hailed us and offered to let the drowned sailboat rats tie up next to them for the night. When we arrived this year, we did not have Wrangell Rain. Just rain.
It used to be called the Beaver Bar....
Wrangell built a cruise ship pier early in this century. A few years later, the small cruise ships it was designed for stopped calling here. The forest product industry has declined. Fishing still provides a living for some folks. A small tourist industry soldiers on. But Wrangell has The Fourth of July Fireworks!
Talking to people in town, everything seems to be geared toward fundraising for this famous-in-Southeast event. And as soon as The 4th is over, the effort starts again for the next year. The main fund-raiser is the contest 4th of July Queen. Three young women are chosen (not sure how that selection is made) to vie for the crown; the biggest fund raiser reigns over the parade. The city dedicates a vacant lot for the contestants to set up “snack shacks” where they sell lunch six days a week. The town (and tourists) enjoy supporting the effort. We bought burgers, an Indian taco (taco filling on squaw bread) and raffle tickets from one of the Princesses. In addition to the daily kitchens, the Princesses sell food at all events in town, the grocery stores, and door-to-door. Families and friends join the effort. It’s a wonder everyone in town doesn’t weight 500 pounds.
We shared a table and conversation with mother and her five year old son. She and her family had moved here three years ago from the Seatac area. She was raised low-income in Las Vegas and saw the pattern in being repeated in Seatac. She and her husband did some research, looking for a place to raise their family where low income wouldn’t equate with crime and gangs. Wrangell’s description fit the bill and she felt welcomed and at home. Wrangell works well for them. Her husband works for the Forest Service in the summer and has a tree business; she works for the city. The first two years, they lived out of town and “off the grid”. They now live in town and she loves being close to the school where her son will attend kindergarten in the fall as well as having electricity and running water.
We felt right at home in Wrangell: Main Street was totally torn up, and had been for months. (Bainbridge Island residents know this story.) The citizens of Wrangell have been promised that the re-construction will be completed by The Fourth, at lease enough for the parade. Hummm. A salesman at the clothing store said that the street in front of his establishment was torn up last October; they were told construction would be completed in in three weeks. It was completed the second week in June. Hard on business.
The town is at the end of a contentious battle to recall the hospital board and administrator with the vote scheduled for next week. One of the shop owners said that the issue had split the town and had become focused on personalities, not competencies. She felt that it would take a long time for the hurt feelings to heal. In a small isolated town that prides itself on neighbors helping neighbors, this is more than unfortunate.
The Golden Handshake DID almost sink twice! The folks that owned her previously have aged to the point of not being able to sail any longer. They gave the boat away to a young man that worked at the harbor, who in turn sold it to a man from Petersburg, AK. She sits on the hard right now waiting to be repaired, repainted and reacquainted to the water. She has a small pin hole near the keel. The Golden Handshake is a steel hull boat.
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