Thorne Bay, June 1, 2015

Thorne Bay

 

Living off the grid

Prince of Wales Island, west of Ketchikan, is reputedly the third largest island in the U.S., much of its land is in the Tongass National Forest. We decide to circumnavigate the island and our first stop is Thorne Bay.  The charts and guide books are a little sketchy on where exactly the harbor is once you enter the bay and since there is a fork in the waterway with two large arms going in opposite directions,   I call the harbor number listed and ask whether they are in the NW arm or the SE arm.  A city employee who answers does not know.  Huh. 

We follow our instincts, head up the NW arm and finally, around a bend, we see the small harbor.  I radio the harbor master and he’s waiting for us at the dock.  He could be Matthew McConaughey's better looking younger brother.  We have been in many harbors, big and small, and he is the most professional harbor master we have encountered.  He gives us precise docking information (“you are 10 feet from the dock” versus the usual “ok, a little more this way” – what way????) and expertly handles the lines.  As I jump off the boat to tie the stern line, my headset transmitter falls into the drink.  Matthew – also known as Shane – drops to the dock like a Hollywood stunt man, dives his hand into the water and scoops up the radio before it even has time to think about sinking.  He leaps up and presents it to me, his baby blue eyes twinkling.  I love Thorne Bay.

A sight seeing excursion is called for so we stroll the town (approximately 400 residents) which a local tells us will take all of ten minutes.  It takes fifteen.  The town is stepped on a hill and we walk up and down, back and forth.  Unlike Ketchikan or Juneau, where the road ends when you reach the edge of town, this road actually continues, crisscrossing the island to other towns and destinations.  This is so exciting.

There is a lookout at the top of “Heart Attack Hill” – so dubbed by the locals - and we take this as a challenge.  Expecting a goat path, with rugged rock outcroppings to clamor over, we instead find  a maintained footpath with occasional stairs.  But the view from the roughly 300 foot elevation is so spectacular that this is what they must have meant by “heart attack.”

 

 

 

Our evening ends with dinner on the fly bridge and a Nat Geo show  – our own live presentation.  Approximately fifteen eagles are at shore scrounging the tidal flats for fish and clams, strutting, chirping, arguing, and generally entertaining us for over an hour.  One eagle flies over to glare at us, perching on a piling smack next to the boat.  We are a little unnerved by his unflinching eagle-eyed stare and frantically hustle the cats indoors.  He is watching his own Nat Geo show.

 

 

Moonrise in Thorne Bay

 

 

Petersburg, May 29-30, 2015

Approaching Petersburg

“Little Norway,” or Petersburg, as it is officially known,  is located on Mitkof Island and  was founded by Norwegian fisherman.  And they take their heritage and fishing seriously.  The harbor is filled with large fishing boats and many of the town’s buildings have the traditional "rosemaul" Scandinavian designs painted on them. 

Housing for summer fishing fleet employees

  But for a town of approximately 3,000, they have no evening restaurants to speak of.    

There is the pizza place, it closes at 8PM – no alcohol served;  the taqueria stand with only outdoor picnic tables for seating - they close at 7 PM;  and finally, the fish taco shack, with only outdoor picnic tables, and they close at 8 PM.  

Taqueria

Bingo on Friday Nights! After Hamburgers

 

 

 

This is a big topic of conversation among the boaters who visit.  When I asked the harbormaster why there are no restaurants she explained it this way:  “Everyone believes that their mother makes the best fish cakes, so I don’t want to eat your fish cakes.”   I actually don’t want to eat anyone’s fish cakes but still,  what happens when you get sick and tired of always having to make the fish cakes?  “We go to the Elks Club on Fridays for hamburgers.”

 

Slacker Seals

But fine dining is not what brings us here, nor the sporadic cell phone coverage or the intermittent internet, no, it is fishing, natural beauty and nearby LeConte Glacier.  

LeConte Glacier

Bergie with Seals

 This glacier is 21 miles of the bluest ice you can imagine.  The bay leading to the glacier is strewn with bergie bits (chunks of ice,) some as large as a Volkswagen, that “calve” off the bottom of the glacier and then pop up in the bay, glittering like diamonds.  Seals birth on the cold ice bergs and eagles come to feast on the afterbirth - at least someone is getting fine dining.  

Meyers Chuck, May 26, 2015

Meyers Chuck

Magical and enchanting – that is the only way to describe this rocky peninsula accessible only by boat or float plane.  Located about 30 NM north of Ketchikan, it is remote and the 20 or so residents like it that way.  Houses are perched on a hill connected by a single-file trail skirting the edge of the peninsula -  the only passage to explore this area – so we march past the owners’ property – we think – boundaries here being a very loose concept.  We pass a closed art studio/store in a small painted shack.  A sign posted on the door states that they’ll open if you call the phone number listed, but that is not necessary to see great art – whimsical sculptures are scattered everywhere.

We have our friends Rich and Shari with us for a week and the four of us head for the woods, following the well maintained trail, and reach a clearing between the trees.  The evergreen canopy is thick and although it's dark, we immediately spot the rustic playground nestled here.  Like second graders at the sound of the recess bell, we rush for the slide, its shinny aluminum surface burrowed in the hill, and shoosh down, landing with a thud on the forest floor.  Maybe we ought to stick with the 40 foot log teeter-totter which merrily bounces us until our backs scream “get off.”  We wisely pass on the rope monkey bars.  

The head of the peninsula near the dock used to have a pay phone, but it’s gone, only a bulletin board remains, posting items for sale.  The post mistress – yes, there is an official post office, reachable by dinghy - used to moonlight as a baker, creating fresh cinnamon rolls and delivering them at 7 AM by dinghy - but her sign is gone too.  Disappointed, we trudge back to the boat and comfort ourselves with fresh baked banana bread – boating can be a real hardship.

 

Evening in Meyers Chuck