Small Boat, Big Adventure – S/V Teleport

 S/V Teleport

Why the name 'Teleport'?
Teleportation is defined as "When an object disappears from one place, and reappears in another" - and that, in a nutshell, is what sailing is all about...

We met Chris Bray and Jess Taunton in July when the s/v Teleport tied up across the dock from us at Baranof Warm Springs. The boat's unusual rigging and friendly, outgoing crew invited queries and conversation, so we popped over for a meet and greet with our new dock neighbors.

After a bit we traded boat tours and spent several hours visiting and swapping cruising stories. Oh my, did they have a unique cruising tale! The couple were completing the final legs of an awe-inspiring journey, their 2012-2013 transit of the Northwest Passage in that compact, 29-foot, junk-rig sailboat. I guarantee you'll enjoy browsing their website archives at www.YachtTeleport.com to read the journal posts about their extensive preparation and progress across the top of the continent. 

Western explorers had searched for a northern passage since the 15th century, repeatedly meeting with failure and occasionally disaster in their hunt for a shorter route from Europe to the Orient. Finally in 1903-06 Roald Amundsen took three years to make the first successful crossing. Others eventually followed, but it was another forty years until Sgt. Henry A. Larsen, an RCMP officer, sailed through in a schooner in 1944 for the first single-season transit. Since then ever increasing numbers of commercial vessels, small cruise ships and recreational boats have transited the passage. A large cruise ship plans to run the passage in 2016 (link)... really? a large cruise ship?! Recent changes in the ice pack as well as improved charting, equipment, icebreaker support and satellite imagery have all contributed to the growing number of successful passages, but it still remains a major challenge.

To reach the Northwest Passage from the Atlantic requires a hazardous voyage through a stream of about 50,000 giant icebergs, up to 300 feet (90 m) in height, constantly drifting south between Greenland and Baffin Island. The exit to the Pacific is equally formidable, because the polar ice cap presses down on Alaska’s shallow north coast much of the year and funnels masses of ice into the Bering Strait, between Alaska and Siberia.(link)

Armchair explorers can relive the challenges of the NWP by reading the several online journals that describe the challenges of travel, and by viewing the photographs of scenery and Arctic wildlife. I'm not tempted to make the trip and actually cruise the Northwest Passage, but I do love the photos of Arctic scenery and wildlife.

Ah yes, the images, those all-important visual memories of any good journey, which takes me back to Chris and Jess and their well-traveled s/v Teleport. Spend some time viewing their photographs and marvel at the scope of this undertaking. These adventurous Australians, professional wildlife photographers, also offer photo classes and lead wildlife photo safaris throughout the world… when they aren’t out sailing. (link)

A guided photo adventure sounds very tempting... some time when we're not out cruising in SE Alaska.

Eagles in Ell Cove

A flight of feisty bald eagles couldn’t resist a discarded halibut carcass, draped across a flat rock above the high tide line. 

Their aerial antics provided the evening’s entertainment and an opportunity for a lengthy photo shoot. Half a dozen birds swooped down onto the rocks in nearly-vertical power dives, bumping and knocking each other about as they vied for ownership of the carcass, or at least a piece of the halibut flesh. These eagles looked more like shoreside brawlers than noble representatives of our national symbol. One crafty bird dragged the fish frame farther up the sloped shore, disappearing under the shelter of overhanging cedar branches. His effort made it more difficult for other eagles to poach a piece, but it didn’t stop their energetic attempts. 

Foolishly the eagle-in-possession gripped what remained of the halibut and lifted off to fly across the cove. That was not a good decision. After liftoff he barely cleared the water, struggling to drag a length of fish along like an anchor on a chain. Oops! He dropped the carcass… it sank… end of story. 

Icebergs Ahead!

June 1             Icebergs in LeConte Bay

It is easy to spot the entrance to LeConte Bay. Be on the lookout for a fleet of icebergs grounded on the entry reef extending from the north shore. In some previous years we have seen huge armadas of bergs drifting along Frederick Sound just outside Petersburg Harbor, but not this year. No, today we had to travel 23nm southeast of town to view the calved icebergs at the source.

We wove our way through floating bergs, keeping a cautious distance from the larger ones since the bulk of their mass is unseen, hidden underwater by the cloudy celadon-colored, glacial-melt water. Several smaller bergs rolled over, unstable as the warmer seawater melted part of the underwater mass resulting in a top-heavy condition. 

The varied shapes often inspire fanciful comparisons to known objects, but today I just marveled at the colors displayed by this incredible number of icebergs. The morning's sunshine added drama to the sightings, intensifying the vivid blue tones of this ancient glacial ice. Some appeared lit from within with a cold blue flame.

The bergs grew more closely packed as we traveled farther up the bay, finally stopping us just before the last s-bend. We didn’t make it all of the way up to the face of LeConte glacier, never even saw it. It didn't matter, we thoroughly enjoyed our morning iceberg cruise in LeConte Bay anyway.

Photo: Nobeltec Navigation display - the red arrowed line shows our route, the green boat figure represents the boat's location. 

Photo: dots on the radar screen represent the largest icebergs in a one-mile range of the boat. The curving solid masses whow the shoreline.

Factoids from the 2015 Petersburg Viking Visitor Guide:

*-LeConte Bay and LeConte Glacier were named in 1887 for Joseph LeConte, professor of geology at the University of California.

*-LeConte Glacier… is perhaps the most studied glacier in the world. For 23 consecutive years student teams from PHS have surveyed the face and tracked the glacier’s movement.

*-The snowfield above the glacier runs up the Stikine River valley.It has the distinction of being the southernmost active tidewater glacier in North America.

*-The spring of 1998 saw the waters of Frederick Sound choked with bergs after a half-mile of ice from the glacier calved into the bay. 

*-LeConte Glacier (is like) a tube of toothpaste. The more snow pack and weight that compresses the ice further up the valley, the more ice advances into the bay. 

*-For the past decade, the face of the glacier has remained stable… within an average distance of 92 yards of its 1999 position. It’s tendency is to move forward with the spring melts, retreating again in the fall. LeConte has retreated 1.2 miles since 1991.

*-In some places the ice has been measured at 4400 feet thick.

*-At the terminus, about 200 feet of ice rise above sea level, and 800 feet are hidden below the waterline of the bay.

Petersburg Welcoming Committee

May was awesomely warm, sunny and dry as we traveled through miles of gorgeous scenery. Now we're ready to spend more time on wildlife photography, fishing, crabbing, prawning and exploring new-to-us coves and inlets. The next wi-fi connection may be long miles away, but I'm sure we'll have more adventures to share soon. Check back and see what happens next - or follow by email and get a notice of the next post. Now it's time to leave the dock and get cruising!

Lake Bay and Coffman Cove

30.2nm          Lake Bay

It’s always tempting to linger at Meyers Chuck, but with so much more to see and do ahead of us, it was time to move on. We traveled to Lake Bay on nearby Prince of Wales Island and dropped anchor in a sheltered cove that offers protection from any strong winds howling down Clarence Strait. Rhapsody rode comfortably in this quiet spot, rocking us to sleep at night lulled by the rhythm of gentle wavelets. Seals fished in the bay (catching more fish than we humans), half a dozen eagles circled overhead and one small black bear appeared briefly on the near shore before disappearing back into the bushes.

A dinghy excursion to Coffman Cove through some shallow back channels brought terrific photo ops, but called for occasional paddling and poling to ease the skiff though shallow passages on the ebbing tide. One juvenile eagle watched our passage with interest from his perch high atop a dead cedar tree. 

Coffman Cove is a quiet settlement: the marina was less than half full, the small take-out restaurant closed until Thursday, the store empty of customers and the library locked up tight. The town lacks cellphone service, but we did find wi-fi available at the library, comfortably seated in wooden chairs on the covered porch. When the library opened we were surprised and touched to find a small memorial to Wrangell resident Pat Roppel, a boating friend, who died in January. Pat, an accomplished woman of many talents - teacher, mentor, writer, historian, explorer, world traveler, and all around amazing individual -  was an avid supporter of the Coffman Cove Library.

A Whale of a Visit at Meyers Chuck

32.3nm          Meyers Chuck

The fog cleared midway through Tongass Narrows as we departed Ketchikan and we enjoyed a sunny albeit somewhat lumpy run up Clarence Strait to Meyers Chuck. There was plenty of room to moor on the inside of the dock, a welcome surprise at the beginning of a three-day holiday weekend. We love The Chuck and make it a point to stop and visit at least once each year. (Check the archives for previous posts and photos in and around Meyers Chuck.) A salmon barbecue potluck with two other boats, a community crab feed on the dock, a big community potluck in The Back Chuck and a final three-boat hamburger dinner meant we ate a lot, laughed a lot and swapped a ton of stories during our stay. Just the memory of those meals makes me hungry all over again. One example: that amazing community potluck included grilled scallops, venison tidbits, oyster stew, just-caught Dungeness crab, BIG local prawns prepared two ways, barbecued pork ribs, grilled marinated beef strips, baked beans, a corn casserole, salads galore and several tempting, ooey-gooey desserts.

We did more than eat, really. All of those dining events encouraged multiple walks ashore and along the dock. Not power walks I’ll admit, but we kept moving. Native plants added color to the path along the water’s edge, and towering old lilacs perfumed the air at a nearby homestead. Aromatic cedar sawdust gathered from the small sawmill now sits in a plastic bag waiting to be transformed into sachets. The local gallery held some tempting artwork, craft items and jewelry. I couldn’t resist buying a stunning, multi-toned, turned wooden bowl. It’s an eye-catching decorative item as well as a functional serving piece.

Just outside The Chuck a lone humpback whale surfaced and slapped the water with its enormous flukes to drive its feed tight up against the steep, rocky shore of nearby Misery Island. The whale opened its huge mouth and scooped up the small, silvery fish by the hundreds. As its mouth closed the baleen retained most of the fish while letting the water stream out. Then he did it again, and again. What a sight!