Journey On

I leave today for the last leg of my journey.... it seems strange, surreal, like a life that is not my own. My father is here... our things are strewn across the beach and we are making the final preparations. Juneau has been amazing, friends, community and love... kayaking, hiking and good food. I feel full, recharged and ready to take on what lies ahead...

A New Adventure - Angela

I am running. I am running as light and surefooted as a deer, like a child full of energy and vigor. I hear a whale blow in the distance, but something tells me the sound is not what I think it is. I hear the buzz of a float plane above my head, but something brings me back to reality.

I am running through an urban street. Far away from the whales, the waves and the shore birds. My soul has not caught up with the speed of our modern day transportation. While my mind hears a whale, a construction site is using an air compressor. When I hear a float plane in the skies above, its a semi down gearing on an overpass.

An unexpected turn of events has led me to accept a job offer that whisked me off the ocean sooner than expected. Up to the last moment of my journey, the people and places of the west coast opened their hearts to me. The last two days in Alaska were some of the most magnificent on the trip. Calm waters, exceptionally beautiful fog, clear skies and orcas. Solan, Aleria and Kevin made my last minute preparations and my stay in Juneau incredible. A huge thanks so them, I hope to see you again soon.

Christine. She has been the most amazing travel partner I could have hoped and wished for. Her stamina and optimism is what made days of rain bearable and my own tiredness vanish. Her humor made me laugh through my tears. Her open heart attracted so many amazing people to our journey along the way. Her pink kayak was the talk of the coast and had people expecting us along the way. I will miss the ties that bound us and will have memories that will keep me laughing, crying and reminiscing for years to come.

My role now changes. From posting blogs to reading them. I will follow Christine's journey like so many of you have followed ours. Thank you for all your support, prayers, and thoughts along the way. I am sure we needed every one of them as we paddled and journeyed up the coast.

I say farewell to the coast, to Christine, and venture off on a new adventure full of challenges and rewards!

A New Chapter-Christine

Sadly my beloved Angela leaves me here in Juneau... ever moving forward, growing and accomplishing new things, she must move on and begin a new chapter in her life... a story she can tell. As for me a new chapter also begins and as always... life works in mysterious ways! My Father, working magic to rearrange his life and schedule is coming to join me for the final leg of my journey into Glacier Bay... I am excited and so looking forward to the opportunity to a), paddle the final leg of my trip, and dream, and b), paddle with my Dad for 3 weeks!

But... life has yet another twist in store for me... while my father works magic to get up here, I have 5 days of wait time... During which I will be paddling with two of the worlds BEST sea kayak guides, dear friends of mine, in their stomping grounds, Glacier Bay National Park! Seems a little backwards I know to be heading into Glacier Bay before I actually paddle there, but one must jump at opportunities when they present themselves! Glacier Bay is a BIG place and we will be getting transported into the far reaches of one of the many arms. I am thrilled to be going along on their trip... it is always a treat to be shown an area by people who know and love it intimately.

Things move fast in the 'City' I barley have time to get this update in... so expect more in the future and don't be confused when SPOT shows up a little farther north a little too early!

Joe and Steve - Christine

I think I might move to Alaska...

The sun is always shining, the ocean is warm, the scenery is spectacular and the people are kind... So perhaps the first two may be unusual and not long lasting, but the later two are enough to make you want to stay...

Joe and Steve,

We were hanging over the dock, awkwardly balancing on our stomachs, digging through our hatches looking for lunch. A loud and abrupt 'thudd' makes me look up, an older gentlemen jumps out of a silver skiff, looks up at me, big grin, and says 'Oh! sorry for the racket, I am kinda known for that around here'. Grey haired with worn hands and tanned skin, chew in his mouth and working mans clothes... he has fished these seas. I smile and say 'no worries'. By this time his friend has also climbed out of the skiff and the two of them are staring down at us and our kayaks. 'Did you come here in those?' we smile and nod... by now we know the general routine but it is always a treasured experience. They fire off the questions about from where and how long and express awe and admiration in response to our answers.

'Hey you' he yells out to a boat coming into the small public dock at Meyers Chuck, a tiny community that has tried to make a go of isolated life in South East Alaska several times. The start up and fail of industry and ventures have left only the most persistent and stubborn still there. 'Park your boat on the other side of the dock!' He turns and smiles to me... 'I like to pretend I am the Harbor Master... self appointed of course!' I laugh. 'People don't stay in Meyers Chuck long, I'm too loud, a summer is all most of them can handle and that's because I am gone fishing for most of it!' His friend chuckles, but doesn't disagree. He is a bigger man, a little rounder in the middle, shaved head but also grey haired, worn hands and tanned skin. He is from these parts, has lived in the area 67 of his 68 years.

We learnt that the taller, louder gentleman was Steve and his partner was Joe. They go about their business for a while, transferring gear from the skiff to a larger old wooden fishing boat. They are getting ready to head out fishing again. They didn't have much luck out on the west coast so had come back to Meyers Chuck to pick up new gear and were heading out the next day to a new area that had just been opened up for Dog Salmon.

The pair are long time friends, have worked the seas together for years and watching their interactions gives you the sense that there is a bond and a friendship between them that runs deep. They are thoroughly amused with one another, humor is a constant thread throughout their conversations and actions.

'Hey girls, I don't mean to be forward, but if you want to use a stove or anything you are welcome to the one on my boat' Steve yells, he yells everything. We don't need a stove, lunch is cold... 'How about tea?' he hells. We happily accept the offer of tea.

We climb on board his fishing boat, take a tour of the working boat and then spend the next 5 hours absorbing the company of two true Alaskans. Steve is 71 with enough character for the whole town of Meyers Chuck and he knows it. Joe is 68, was born and raised in Wrangell (a short distance by power boat) and the two of them have been fishermen their whole lives. Joe sold his boat a few years back and joined Steve... Steve has had his boat for almost 40 years. Joe was quiet, but witty... stood a little bit more removed from us, but was keenly listening to the conversation, interjecting at timely moments to make us laugh. Steve was fully on and was living in the lime light of our attention, making jokes about himself, the fishing life and the struggles of Alaska... through the facade of dislike for it all it was clear he loved it and it coursed through his blood.

We learned about fishing and trapping, about life in Alaska, the winters, the summers... And I thought for a moment that maybe I could stay there forever. In the little town of Meyers Chuck, isolated and remote, sitting in the sun, drinking tea with two of the most intriguing, content and happy men I have ever met. The secret of life was instilled deep in their souls and for those 5 hours they let us live in the glow of that knowledge.

Finally, realizing the time, we began the process of departing... Like children, Joe and Steve hovered over us and our kayaks, totally in awe and asking questions about our equipment, how it all worked, what we were carrying and what it was like. 'glad to see you wearing those' Steve said when we put on our PFD's (we laughed to ourselves... he could probably count the number of times he has worn one on one hand). Loaded up we pushed off, waving goodbye and feeling full of life. As we paddled out of the bay we could hear Steve yelling again... more self appointed Harbor Master work.

We will never see them again, nor will we hear of or from them but I will never forget Joe and Steve.

This is Alaska

Community-Angela

I have found a bond that is deeper than blood, runs more true than family, and is more committed than friendship. The Sea. Those on the sea have a bond that is the deepest I have ever experienced. I have been humbled by the gifts that have been given to us, the information shared, and the awe that accompanies those who hear of our journey.

I feel as if I am a celebrity on tour up the coast. When people find out what we are doing, all their guards come down and the giving nature of the human spirit is revealed. We have been given fresh salmon, smoked salmon, canned salmon. We have been envited for tea aboard pleasure crafts, offered storage for our boats in town, given relics of safety for our ocean travels. We have been envited to spend nights in people's houses and shared cups of tea with amazing strangers. These strangers are now people we are deeply connected and indebted to.

The West Coast is beautiful beyond dreams and more stunning than our wildest imaginings. Yet the community of the sea has become the most cherished aspect of our journey. A part of our journey that will last longer than the memory cards in our cameras, impact us more than the breaching whales off our bows, and change us more deeply than the rest of our experiences combined.

Alaska Bound - Christine

Since the age of about 12 I have known that one day I would paddle to Alaska. 16 years later I finally embarked on that journey, a journey that has evolved over the 16 years as I gained perspective and experience, leading me to my paddling partner, trip plan and destination. At the age of 12 Alaska was likely the farthest conceivable destination and required no quantification as to how far in Alaska I intended to go. It was simply Alaska! For the 12 year old in me... we have spent the past 2 months kayaking to 'Alaska' and on June 29th we crossed the watery line that separates Canada and the US. We spent our first night illegally landed in the US and the next week until reaching Ketchikan where we officially checked in with customs and declared that we were in fact in Alaska.

Our journey through Canada was one of space and freedom. It was a journey of discovery as we saw for the first time our coast... I didn't know such expanse existed, I didn't know there were miles of white sand beaches and I didn't know I could feel so completely alone. Alone, but alive, content and at peace. We had the ultimate privilege of traveling by kayak up the outside coast. A wild and rugged coastline exposed to the open seas and the lashings of the Hecate Strait, a coastline that has claimed the lives of many. The ocean embraced us, the weather smiled on us and we were spared the terror. We drifted up and down the huge swells, bounced amongst the refracting waves and cut through the glassy surface of the early morning calm. We traveled miles of harsh coastline, completely un-landable. We paralleled black jagged rocks, frothing with crashing waves, spray shooting 10's of feet in the air with the shear force and power in which it was slammed against the rocks. We navigated through boomers, rocks that sit just below the waters surface creating huge dumping waves as the swell traveled landward. We felt the force, saw the potential and thanked the surfless beaches that provided refuge. It was more than a dream.

Prince Rupert marked the completion of our journey through Canada, it marked a halfway point and it marked the embarkation of the Alaskan portion of our journey. We are two months in... this is Alaska... and our dream is becoming a reality.

Catch us if you can in Ketchikan-Angela

July 2nd found us paddling late into the evening, scrambling for a campsite just outside of Ketchikan Alaska. We found a make shift campsite and sat down to watch the lights of ketchikan fade into the night.

The next day dawned bright and early as we paddled past beach front houses, marinas and cruise ships to find the five story pink customs office in town. The officer, as ever intrigued with two females paddling for four months, quickly filled out our paper work, then listened with awe to our stories and wished us luck in the coming months.

Ketchikan-a mix of old and new. Old canaries line one section of the main street, while cruise ships and modern shops adorn the next section. A cruise down "Creek Street" revealed the red light district as it would have been decades ago with splashes of modern art stores, funky bookstores, and heritage homes.

With two to four huge cruise ships in port during the day, the town is filled with interesting questions, a multitude of language and useless shopping. But when the ships leave in the evening, the locals come out of hiding and do it up ketchikan style. We spent an evening in a coffee shop listening to local musicians playing late into the night. Upon hearing that we were sea kayakers on a long journey, they took us in as one of their own and dragged us on stage for music, offered us smoked salmon, and sent us a coast guard representative to tell us tales of the sea! What a night it was with the comfort of a mocha and good company.

July 4 (Independance Day) dawned with excitement and anticipation. The longest parade I have ever seen took place as Christine and I, with childlike enthusiasm, shared a stick of cotton candy! We were given free pie from Maggie, ate free root beer floats as we watched the duck race unfold before our very eyes. Four Thousand rubber duckies were let loose at the top of a small creek. Each duck was worth $10, and the first duck at the bottom of the creek won $2500 with cash prices for the first 35 ducks. Christine and I did not win, but thoroughly enjoyed the ducky race.

We were then dragged to the logger sports competition where we watched six strong logger lads compete for the winning two spots that would ensure their spot in the ESPN Logger Competition. We were soon the loudest fans as we cheered the men up 50 ft trees, over floating logs, sawing through thick stumps, and generally competeing for the highest level of testosterone. Impressive feats to be sure, but I don't think any of them could paddle to Alaska.

Once all traces of light from the Alaskan sun vanished, crowds gathered along the docks and marinas to watch as a very impressive fireworks display ended the celebrations. Christine and I fell into our hostel beds exhausted but happy after an amazing day of friends and fun.