Coming to Alaska
In the spring of 1972, my new bride, Susanna, and I finally headed up the Inside Passage to Alaska for the first time in our 32’ salmon boat, traveling with friends Bruce and Kathy Gore, in their boat, Kestrel. We ran into some challenging seas just at the Alaska border.
From my journal: April 19, 1972
So we came to Alaska, on a wild and lost afternoon, caught in a tide race off a nameless point, in failing light, far from any help. The heavy westerly swell, the dirty southwest chop and the push of the tide on top made it all I could do just to keep way on the boat, throttling over the big ones, and then diving deep into the troughs.
The seas came from all directions and even at dead slow, waves slapped against the big windows, sagging in the thick glass. Twice a big one roared over the stern, filling the trolling cockpit and the boat wallowed deep in the water until it drained.
Kestrel was just 50 yards away and I could see half her keel as she came off a big one; if the engine ever quit we’d be broadside in a moment and probably swamp. If it came to that I’d rather pour on the coal and put the bow in the trees than get off out here. Even a rocky beach is better to walk home on than this crooked piece of water. Bruce came on the radio, “I broke a spoke off of my steering wheel on that last one”, tension in his voice.
For three hours we jogged in that lonely spot, hardly making a yard.
Twice it seemed to get worse and for a time there was nothing I could do but try to avoid the worse of the seas and hope that one didn’t blow out a window. The light began to go from the sky and with still no change; it was beginning to be a desperate time. After dark, when a skipper has no way of knowing where a wave can come from, anything can happen. Bruce was off my quarter, and I looked over to him when I could, watching the seas bury his bow clear back to his cabin.
As we climbed and dove into those smoky seas, it felt pretty good to have a friend out there.
Finally at last light the push of the tide eased off, the seas seemed to lay down a bit, and we crept up the beach again. We rounded the point in the black, with seas breaking heavily on reefs on both sides of the entrance, and dropped the hook in the farthest corner of Foggy Bay, Alaska, savoring the stillness after what we’d been through.
Sam went up to the bow to sniff the air in that new spot as dogs do, and Susanna got up to have a quiet drink with me before we started clearing up the debris. The stove had blown out in the middle of it all and it was late before we finally ate and got in our bunk. Think we went through a big one out there today. Susanna and the dog were in the bunk for most of it; I stuck my head down when I got a chance and there were some pretty big eyes staring up at me. We had taken all the precautions we could, but sometimes you just get caught and there’s not much you can do about it.”
- Alaska Blues, A Fisherman’s Journal, by Joe Upton
