The Ketchikan experience was interesting however, I was happiest when we headed north up the narrows to leave Alaska’s first city.  The cruise ships, as many as four at a time rotated in and out of the harbor each with at least 1,000 passengers offloading to buy memorabilia or walk the old town.  As we fueled up, we went through Customs, sort of, just a passing of passports and we were cleared. 

     The fishing fleet was still in, many boats harbored in the same marina with us.  I walked the dock, chatted with deckhands and collected a few images.  Fishing boat names evoke a different emotional allusion than pleasure boats.  Female names seem to be the most abundant, maybe a sweetheart, wife or even the owner.  Like any watercraft, some boats are derelict, some are meticulously well-cared for and many in the middle category of “good enough”.

     This harbor smells of diesel, tar, metal, it sounds of pressure washers, eagle speak, ravens and engines, and surface water is swilled with a coating of oil.  The fishing industry is about preparation and hope for the harvest to be abundant and seeing one harbor has me wondering how the ocean can sustain it all.  Thinking about the consumption that just one boat requires, has me wondering at the cost to this tender environment.  I am a neophyte, so this is all musing on my part.  Yet, even here in Alaska, a piece of fish to eat is surprisingly pricey. 

     Our flotilla had our last big hurrah, to say farewell to each other and to celebrate three of our birthdays with birthday cake.  We will most likely see all or some of this group again since we have headings in the general direction of North.

     Next morning, Tim and I headed up the Ketchikan narrows, passing the Disney Cruise Ship, port to port.  We rounded the head past the sport fishermen, pointed Allusion to the west and put up the sails.  We had good winds all the way to Kasaan Bay.  Looking back, dark clusters of rain clouds in the distance marked the city of Ketchikan. Goodby noisy little town.

June 10  

 We thought we were headed into a secluded little cove but discovered a fishing lodge at the very head of our anchorage.  Just as we had set anchor and were hoping to head out to fish in our dingy, a float plane soared in, landed 20 yards from our bow and surfed into shore.  After the jostling settled down, I’m not sure who was more surprised, us or the pilot.  Within ten minutes, a second plane entered the cove, this time from a different direction.  Maybe the first pilot alerted the others about our presence.  Subsequent planes landed and it appeared they were taking guests away.  Saturday must be the turn around.

     We did go fishing, catching numerous little rock fish, retired to Allusion as the rain started to gently makes its presence known.

     Sunday morning brought new guests in and we departed this busy little place into a bright and beautiful morning to sail north to Santa Anna Bay.  We saw two whales blowing and sounding in the bright light of early.  Always, at least for me, a good omen, a blessing and reminder that we are guests in their home.

Allusion in Saltry Bay, Scow Arm of Kasaan Bay

     Mid afternoon, we carefully motored into Santa Anna, a bay at the end of a mile long inlet.  We were the only boat and relished the opportunity to be in silence and solitude.  We anchored and were preparing to stern tie as Tim casually mentioned seeing a deer on shore.  In no hurry, I grabbed my camera with the 200 zoom lens to get a better look.  “Tim, that’s not a deer, it’s a Grizzly.”  We immediately changed our plans about stern tying to shore and decided to launch a stern anchor instead.  The bear, possibly a one year old, seemed oblivious of us, eating it’s salad of emerald greens along the rocky shore not 100 feet away.  We thought there were two since the first sighting, the bear was lighter colored but we never saw two at a time.  I was a bit concerned and washed down all the herring bait from the deck before Tim set the crab pot in the opposite direction of the bear.  It hung out with us in this small cove for nearly two hours, then it was gone, into the impenetrable forest.  I thought of all the possible and impossible scenarios of a grizzly swimming out to ravage our stores of provisions but soon realized that it was doing its bear thing, and seemed content with its salad.

    I slept deeply in perfect peace, the only sound, Mew Gulls, singing before finally settling down.