Alaska Passage

To Glacier Bay in a Glacier Bay 2680 -- a 1500-mile
journey of discovery among sea lions, humpies, Orcas and amazing blue ice.
By Alan Jones

Cruising the Alaska Coastline.

When packing for the 1,500-mile, 10-day trip from Seattle to Glacier Bay, Alaska, I decide to throw in my first-aid kit as an afterthought. After all, anything can happen on a trip like this. In retrospect I should have included crutches and a pair of inflatable casts, but that's a story for later.

Entering Alaska's Ketchikan Harbor. Putting downtown Seattle to our backs.

After clearing the Strait of Juan De Fuca, we take the Southwest Passage and cruise close to San Juan Island, Washington, where we spy a pod of Orca killer whales. There's a conservation boat amongst the group that keeps overeager observers from getting too close. We watch the magnificent predators and feel exhilarated.

Surrounded by mountains playing hide and seek in the mist, Pender Harbor is a good place to hole up. We check in at the Sunshine Coast Resort and motor across to the Gardens Bay Pub, where we eat halibut and chips and make friends with the locals. Finally the rain stops, and we leave our oasis to head for Princess Louisa Inlet, two hours north of Pender Harbor.

Passing a lighthouse near the Alaska/Canadian border.

The seas have calmed down, and the 2-hour trip through the surreal, cloud-shrouded green mountains has silenced everyone as we stare in awe. Guarding the entrance is Malibu Rapids, a shallow narrows that we luckily traverse at close to slack tide. The inlet is framed with a cathedral of tall mountains along its 4-mile length terminating at Chatterbox Falls. True to its name, the falls thunder incessantly into the inlet. We hike close to the torrent and are thrilled to be so near its fury.

The next day's run includes stops at Lund and Big Bay, and we still have more than 70 miles to Echo Bay, so we cruise through the mountain-lined Johnstone Strait at close to 30 knots.

Slaloming through the corkscrew passage, we enter the sleepy little backwater. Although it's not long until dark. Frank O'Brien, owner of Shamrock Marine in Annapolis, Maryland, and I are dying to do some fishing after resort owner Nancy Richter tells us they've been catching salmon only 200 yards from the dock.

A sign foreshadows the author's demise. A Ketchikan totem pole.

While everyone else checks in at the Echo Bay Resort, Frank and I troll around for about a half hour and catch a keeper-sized piece of kelp while setting a new Northwest record for most twists in a line and motorback in with darkness falling.

It's starting to rain again as I board the boat to get my duffel bag. As I step off, I slip. My right leg shoots out from the knee down; I try to catch myself by quickly putting down my left leg, but it does the same thing. I crash to the dock as both my knees explode in pain. Laying there, I solve the mystery of the slippery dock as I inhale the aroma of salmon slime, which has been made even more viscous by the rain. My first reaction is, "Oh no, there goes the trip!" Hoping I had just wrenched my knees, I stand up and realize it's serious. (Arthroscopic surgery later reveals a completely severed ligament and cartilage damage on the left knee and a partially torn medical collateral ligament on the right knee).

I somehow make it back to my room. When I wake up the next morning, my left knee is swollen to the size of Donald Trump's head. I ask about a doctor, but I decide to forego treatment when I discover the local caregiver is "technically a shaman."

Mercifully, today is one of our shorter runs - about 100 miles to travel before reaching the Hakai Beach Resort on Calvert Island in British Columbia. I'm absolutely elated when we arrive. Today, I proved I can get on a boat and cruise in rough water - I'm going to Alaska!

Then next morning we begin our 250-mile trip to Prince Rupert, British Columbia - our longest leg so far. The last 40 miles are difficult due to fog. One of our boats hits a small piece of wood and sustains damage to the cavitation plate, but fortunately it doesn't affect its handling. Since I'm leading the pack, I turn on our Raytheon radar and use it to watch for the numerous fishing boats.

It's after 9:00 p.m. when we pull in at the Prince Rupert Yacht Club, where a worried-looking gentleman named "Pooch" (Mr. Pucci) meets us. He is visibly relieved to see us, and we follow him to Breaker's Pub, where we dine on fresh halibut and celebrate the end of a long day.

The morning's weather is clear - next stop, Alaska. Transiting through Revillagigedo Channel, British Columbia, we pass next to a lighthouse near the Twin Islands, located near the Canada-Alaska border, and enter Dixon Entrance. A narrow-beam transmitter informs us over the radio that we have left Canada and are now in Alaska. The terrain even seems changed from the lush green mountains of British Columbia to the rugged, snowcapped peaks of Alaska.

Listening to the roar of Chatterbox Falls.

Ketchikan matches my expectations of what an Alaskan port city should look like. Surrounded by snowcapped mountains and infused with a historical feel, it's an inviting place for visitors. I stroll down Creek Street, which used to be the red-light district during the gold rush era, and take the tram to the Westmark Cape Fox Lodge, where we stay overnight.

The next day I cruise with Frank and Peg O'Brien As we get close to Petersburg, I see that the cold, windy conditions haven't dissuaded the fishermen in their small aluminum boats.

My knees feel better today, so I make the mistake of carrying my heavy bag up the steep ramp. We eat dinner at the Homestead Cafe, and for a change of pace we have the spotted prawns and "gungie" crabs.

The next morning is cool as we begin our trek to Juneau. Entering Frederick Sound we turn due north and see whales - dead ahead. Dropping down to idle we scramble for our cameras as a pod of humpbacks heads right for us. We are scanning in every direction, nervous with excitement, when the "humpies" break the surface right next to our boat. Mixed in with the whales are sea lions that hang close to us, obviously hoping for media coverage.

We approach Tracy Arm, said to have some of the most spectacular glacier in Alaska, and stop in the milky green water for a conference.

Sea Lions basking in the sun

One of our boats didn't get a full tank of fuel in Petersburg, and we debate whether to make the run. While we decide to err on the safe side, someone notices a bright blue object in the distance, so we move closer and discover an iceberg of "blue sea". I've seen pictures of ice that is pastel blue, but this 'berg is the deepest blue I've ever seen. Today's encounters haven't begun to wear off by the time we enter the capitol city's harbor. It's a short taxi ride from the marina to the historic Baranoff Hotel, located in the heart of Juneau. Built in 1939, this is a favorite haunt of Alaska's legislators, who have consummated many deals in the hotel's Gold Rush Bar.

The next morning we head to our final destination: Glacier Bay National Park. Arriving in Bartlet Cove, we're a little late to make the 2-hour run to the glaciers, se we check in at the ranger station.

As we are fueling up the next morning before heading to the glaciers, I get word that a ranger wants to speak to me. Tulip Morrow, supervisory visitor use assistant, informs me that I am forbidden to take photos since I don't have a commercial filming permit. I ask if there is anything we can do, and she answers in a bureaucratic tone, "The application takes two weeks to process. Can you come back then?" I decide I'm getting nowhere, so I take a copy of the regulations and inform our crew. Later I read them and find out that I did not meet any of the criteria that would have required a permit anyway.

As we head back, the day's disappointment doesn't overshadow the satisfaction of completing this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Not only is taking a small boat through the Inside Passage possible, it's the best way to experience its awesome majesty. Later if it was worth it and laugh. What a foolish question.

Glacier Bay 2680 Coastal Runner The Coastal Runner is the perfect choice for our challenging 1,500-mile Inside Passage run. Our 2680 has the optional hardtop and canvas package that fully enclosed the cockpit, significantly raising our comfort level during the frequently cold and rainy conditions. With the hardtop configuration, we have an excellent field of vision, which is a real plus since we have to watch out for logs. Six adults comfortably sit amidships in the 6 feet 5 inches of headroom under the hardtop and never feel cramped. After my accident, I find the port side settee with its footrest to be a godsend. Our Coastal Runners are powered with twin Suzuki 150 EFI engines, which prove to be a good match for the boat. They start quick, run smooth and get us safely to our destination. Despite the heavy luggage we are carrying, the twin Suzuki's great low-end torque put us on plane quickly. We have loads of luggage for this 10-day adventure and have plenty of room in the cabin to stow it. The easy-to-enter cabin has plenty of headroom and features a queen-size bed, which I find very comfortable during the night. The head is easy to use and has a 15-gallon holding tank. The cockpit is large and free of obstructions. Although we don't get to fish as much as we would like, the Coastal Runner is designed with the angler in mind. There's a 32-gallon livewell, and room for six more underneath. There's a handy freshwater spigot and sink built into the transom and two large in-deck fish boxes. Two large boarding steps make the Coastal Runner easy to get on. Transiting to the bow area is easy for me after my accident, thanks to the 14 inches of walkaround space on the starboard side. The best part is the ride. In the windblown straits and open water sections of our run we hit rough conditions, and the Glacier Bay's displacement hulls handle the slop well. Running into head seas on the 2680 feels more like light turbulence in a small plane than pounding. After I blew out my knees, I had seven days and 900 miles left to go, and I can't think of another boat in the 26-foot class I would have rather been on. - A. Jones.

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When You Go

Making the journey from Seattle, Washington, to Alaska by boat can be rewarding. Here are the best hotels, restaurants, and sights to visit.

Beautiful Roche Harbor Resort

Located near the U.S. Canadian border in Roche Harbor, Washington, the Hotel De Hero (800) 451-8910, built in 1886, is a scenic place to stay.

The Coast Bastion Inn in Nanaimo, British Columbia (250) 753-6601) is located near the heart of the city.

Don't miss the nearby Newcastle Island Park (250) 754-7893), and grab a bite at Gina's Mexican Restaurant (250) 753-5411).

In Pender Harbor, British Columbia, the Sunshine Coast Resort (604) 883-9177) has a marina that accommodates boats up to 100 feet. Try the halibut and chips at Garden Bay Pub (604/883-2674).

The Shearwater Marine Resort (800) 663-2370) in Bella Bella, British Columbia, has a camp/RV site. Places of interest include the Heitsuk Tribal Museum (250) 957-2626).

British Columbia's Coast Prince Rupert Hotel (250) 624-6711) is located in downtown Prince Rupert. Breaker's Pub (250/624-5990) has delicious halibut.

The WestCoast Cape Fox Lodge (907) 225-8001) in Ketchikan is one of the few four-star hotels in Alaska. Try its Heen Kahidi Restaurant for food.

In Petersburg, Alaska, the Tides Inn (800)/665-8433) is close to the public dock. Nearby Sandy Beach features 2,000 year old fish traps, and the Homestead Caf&#0 (907) 772-3900 is the spot for dinner.

The venerable Westmark Baranof (907) 586-2660) is located in Juneau, Alaska. Food and drinks at the Red Dog Saloon (907) 463-3777 are worth sampling.

The Glacier Bay Lodge and Marina (800) 451-5952 is located within the Glacier Bay National Park (907) 697-2627 in Bartlett Cove. - A.J.