IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME...


Well, what can I say?

Sorry for the long time between writing. If I have not been in touch with you since… A long time, this is the story.

I Resigned from Timoneer after 4 years and 11 months onboard, and clocking up nearly 64,000 nautical miles. Came home to NZ for 3 months, of holidaying, studying and spending. I left for the UK (March 2008) to sit my Officer of the Watch exam in Liverpool. Stressed and sweated like never before for an hour and half of only verbal answers to all the rules of the road at sea.
Passed, had a few pints, as you do. Then went off down to the South of France for a break with some friends. Enjoyed yet another course there, for engineering (a lot more beer drunk at this one!).



Hopped on a plane and flew to Tortola in the US Virgin Islands to join Adele (180foot Sailing Ketch) as temp Bosun.
Back on the water again and sailing northwards to the USA into Fort Lauderdale. My 3 months stretched into 4, with an owner who liked to be onboard a lot. We traveled from the Bahamas to Newport, Rode Island, with stops in between of course. Fourth of July in Long Island sound and some flying visits to down town New York on the owner’s motor yacht, Seawalker.

In Newport, things changed for the good. There was a need for a captain onboard Seawalker, and I was offered the job. A great step in the right direction!
More responsibility and a Captain (of a small boat that is).



Placed the boat on a ship to Sardinia in the Med. I took a few days off, before joining a flight across.
Met the boat with my crew member from NZ, we then spent the late summer in the Med with
the owner living on Adele, and hoping between beaches and marinas with me.
From Valencia in Spain to Santorini in Greece. That was the summer, with breaks from the owner of a few weeks on the bigger seas to cross.




The winter storms were coming thick and fast in late October when we were released from the owner. It took 16 days to get back to Palma, Mallorca. It is only 1000 miles away, and would have taken just over 2 days in good weather. Having to turn back crossing the Ionian Sea, between Greece and Italy was hard. I thought we would never get there. Picking weather windows and running hard before the next storm would blow in. Spent my 30th birthday at sea,
but made up for it with a much needed weekend full of partying upon arrival.

Placed Seawalker on another ship and she came back across the Atlantic to Fort Lauderdale. I picked her up, then into the yard for a not so brief haul out and repair. I came back to NZ to see the family and some friends, 10days is never long enough!




Now I’m sitting in Fort Lauderdale, working to get the boat ready for a trip down through Central America to Panama, from there I do not know…

Once again, sorry for not keeping in touch over the past long while. Hope all is well and life is good.
Bevan :)

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF TIMONEER!

Well, its been an interesting start to the trip on the French Rivera. On the second day after we left Marseille, we motor-sailed to the next anchorage. During the passage the owner’s wife fell over in the Deck salon and hit her face on the 3-seat chair in there. It was all go, the general alarm the works, she was ok, just down and out for a while. We motored into the Anchorage, and the main engine over heated! This in turn caused the prop pitch to stop working the boat to be im-moveable. The 1st mate was in the just launched tender, so I dropped the Pick and we sat ok for now. The owner’s wife went ashore after a hairy step into the tender from the side ladder, she saw the doctor and had X-rays and all was ok. It wasn't over yet, at about 2230, the general alarm went off again. The owner had fallen in the shower and cut his head quite badly, we butterfly stitched it up, and made sure he was all ok. They both look as if they had been in a bare knuckle-fighting match, Crazy! The next day (it was St.Tropez) the owner’s wife needed to be at the Doctor at 1430, and Timoneer needed to be in Nice to pick up the owners guests for the next day. So the 1st Mate and Stewardess took the owner’s wife to the doctor, and would come up to Nice later in a hire car. The rest of us took the yacht up the coast. It was a nice trip, no wind and I had plenty of time to prepare for going alongside the dock there, little did I know, you shouldn’t-look-a-gift-horse-in-the-mouth! It was a full-blown commercial dock, with huge rubber fenders that the ferries or cruise liners could push up against. The normal system of docking wouldn’t work, so it was out with the side-boarding ramp (a flat ramp with stanchions on, and wheels which sit on the dock). The problem was that it was buried deep in the bowels of the boat. So, out comes the Spinnaker, Mizzen Staysail, and a few other bits and pieces. On with the ramp as the hire car pulls up with the owner’s wife and crew, sorted... A new day dawns and all going well till 8am. The Mate is off again in the hire car to pick up guests from the airport. The Captain tells me that the dock is to be used by a cruise ship and we have to get out by 10am. Off the dock we go, and stern-to another slip close by. Shift all the fenders and all the dock lines, side ramp away, stern passerail out, anchor standing by. We literally squeezed our self into this berth; we didn't even need to tie up! The guests arrived with the Mate, and we were off again before lunch, this time to Ville Franch. The Mate had to bring the car around, so it was just Engineer and I again. Anchoring was all ok but the wind built, and made the tender launch off the fore deck slightly scary! A quick shore pick up of the mate just before 1300. Lunch over now and the Mate and Head Stewardess are taken ashore to get the last guests from the Airport. The Captain decided that with the wind gusting over 25 knots and a lee shore, we should move, so up and off again. We moved 5 miles around to the East into a calmer anchorage, and dropped 2 picks. Just as we had done this and I was squaring up on the bow, when I noticed a 100-foot yacht drifting down on us. They yelled out, “our engine is stuffed and the anchor won’t hold”. The yacht was drifting with 20knots of breeze to power them. Launch the tender and go and help. The Captain came with me, and we rafted our tender off the yacht and tried to regain some control. We narrowly missed a few powerboats in the anchorage, and we drifting towards the larger ones further out. With the power from our tender and the yachts dinghy we were able to drive up through the anchored yachts (Timoneers Captain on the helm, how many yachts does he want to skipper!) Time to try and anchor her again in shallow water. It was useless, small anchors and bad holding! Next thing, the guests have arrived, and need a pick up. I tell the Mate that we are a tad busy with a hectic salvage operation, and need a hand. The Captain decided that we will just hang them off the stern of Timoneer. The towline was run out and the Mate, who convinced a guy on the dock to give us a hand, raced out in a dinghy and took the line to the bow of the stricken yacht. Many narrow misses and allot of sunburn!So, now there is a 100 footer hanging off the stern! The owner couldn't help with organizing a tow, and after not being able to fix the engine, the Captain and Mate took the yacht up closer and threw 2 anchors over and she held fast, out of our hands. I was meanwhile clearing the foredeck ready to crane the tender on for the night; I had just sat down and noticed a 100 foot motor yacht within 30 feet of our bow. I yelled out and got the attention of the guests, who promptly found the captain. Within 20 feet now, crikey! The engine started and they took off 2 another anchorage. Flags down now, and dinner in my empty belly. Enjoying a few pages from the latest book, when the wind changed, and we swung very close the boat next to us. Up anchor and move out. I dropped the pick, and told to put out 450 feet, we have 500 feet onboard total. 400 foot mark flew past in the dark, I jammed on the brake with 450 on deck. Winch in to 400 feet the captain said, and put the snubber on, ok, no worries! Yer right!! The bitter end (a line from the last link of chain to the anchor locker) has snapped. I was 10 feet short of losing the whole lot over the side, man what is going on here... We tried to fix it, but at 1am it was to late and to dark, sort it out the next day. What a day, really earned my wages with this one! Time for sleep, hoping not to have a repeat tomorrow...

ISLANDS OF THE SUN
February to March 2007
The steamy heat of the Caribbean, often whipped away by the steady easterly trade winds. On theses same winds, yachts carry on their leisurely way through the deep turquoise waters, so it’s no real surprise that there are so many yachts here over the winter season, who could resist the temptation…
Grenada is almost at the end of the Caribbean chain of islands, known for the nutmeg plantations that are strewn across the island. Its lush tropical forests fringe the waters edge, whenever there isn’t a beautiful sandy beach there instead. The people from here are some of the friendliest around and they love their island.
This was the first stop in the beginning of the trip northward to the Leeward Islands, of Antigua and St. Maarten.
Tied up ‘stern to’ the dock at Prickly Pear Bay, with a very nice left hand reef break out front, and a great bar only a stones throw from the yacht. Not to bad a start this time around! I saw a little of the island by car, and can say that they love the color of the West Indies. Red, yellow and green was almost standard on a lot of the homes and gardens around the island, a passionate people I’m lead to believe.
There is a considerable amount of poverty still about, but it cannot deter the families and friends getting out on a Saturday afternoon and having a game of cricket on a marginally flat piece of land. Everyone in the local area turns out for a few ‘overs’ and drinks in the sunshine.
It had been said that Grenada was far enough south to be out of the hurricane path. This statement was re-enforced when the most recent big blow was in the 1960’s. This however was all to change in 2004, when a hurricane generated in the low-pressure equatorial area off the east coast of South America. The warning systems were in place, and local metrological experts had predicted the path of fury heading right into the southern end of the island. The 100-knot winds battered the tropical island for some time, but thanks to the warning’s not one person lost their life, although roughly 90% of the homes and buildings on the island lost their roofs. The capital town of St. George’s still shows the scars from that day, with the gaunt skeletons of the churches over looking the bay.
The owners had arrived and were comfortably aboard, it was to be four weeks before we saw them depart. The journey was to be a northerly course of island hoping up through the Caribbean chain of Islands.
Sailing around the southern tip of Grenada and into the harbor lagoon in St. Georges. The two anchors were run out, and a stern line ashore to some old piles to keep the yacht from swinging in the confined anchorage. As the engine was astern, and the chain was stripping off into the murky water, a thump was heard. The yacht lurched to port and we were all left with the ‘what the heck was that look across our faces’. It appeared that there was an old dock there and one of the plies must have still been in place, although slightly under the surface of the lagoon. This nasty piece of metal placed a nice score mark down the hull and then over the tips of the propeller. We checked it out in clearer water later, and found no significant damage, that couldn’t be fixed later in the shipyard, Lucky!
Time spent in Grenada came to an end; the sails were set and the north course adjusted to the helm. The shape of Carriacou was significantly displayed in the distance, a volcanic island born from the ocean depth, now standing proud against the harsh afternoon sunlight, as we sailed in and dropped anchor for the night.
Taking the opportunity to dive into the clear water and snorkel about is a great delight and not to be missed. The owners often had an afternoon nap, so the option was taken. The forests of coral, fish in abundance and an array of colors were a pleasure to the eye. Drifting down wind with the light current, just floating along through life, so peaceful…
Reality bites, and its back to work. Off to another anchorage for the night, and with time to head ashore and see what the locals get up to once the sun has gone down.
‘Rum’, is what's it about, a very strong brew given the name ‘Jack Iron’. I’m unsure as to why this is, but I do know that ice will not float in this concoction, and it’s able to take your breath away just as easily.
A self-inflicted throbbing head is what some of us awoke too, but the show must go on.
Moving up the Grenadines north again, to a small Island called Union. The bar here in the middle of the anchorage was very unique. It was situated atop of the coral reef surrounding the bay, the music was blaring most of the time. I’m sure it would have been an experience to have a not-so-quiet sundowner there. But as it was not the case, the anchor was hauled and off to Petite St. Vincent so the owner and his wife could re- live their honeymoon cocktail drinks, which had happened many, many years ago, at that very island. How romantic!
You could defiantly tell we were in the Caribbean when you arrive at the Tobago Cays. It is one of the highlights of the Grenadine chain, and lives up to its widely spread reputation as one of the finest reef surrounded bays. A vast array of yachts at anchor from all over the world, dinghy's filled to the freeboard limit with people covered in snorkeling gear. The reefs alive with life, ready to dazzle the next swimmer by.
20knots of breeze and the sails full and trimmed delighted the owner to see his yacht cruising along at great pace. Stopping for a brief swim and lunch then off to Bequia, the last of the smaller Islands in the Grenadine group. Settling in here for a few days, gave me half a day to explore by mountain bike. The intense sun could sap all your energy as quickly as the gradient of the hill I was cycling up would. But when your options aren’t huge for entertainment, a nearby beach bar, and quick swim can do wonders to take your mind away from the day-to-day life of yacht crew.
Refreshed and back onboard, ready to push on again from Bequia, which is famed for the boat building of yesteryears. Now they sell a miniature version ready to be shipped right to your door world wide, ingenious idea!
An early departure was in order to make it into the lee of St. Vincent for a smooth breakfast, then north again into the lee of the next island St. Lucia for lunch. Rounding the bottom end of Martinique, through the narrow channel and avoiding the coral reefs, up to a very nice dock to tie up to for the next few pleasant days. All aboard were given a day off here to explore the island, which as I found out is one of the most well looked after in all of the Caribbean. Traveling up a 4 lane highway, through the main city center, and off on an adjacent road up in to the distant hills. The winding road closed up to the vast forest on each side, the volcanic peaks looked down from high above as the rain lashed the windscreen into a mess of disorientation. Slowing as the rain eased, to have a touristy look at a few waterfalls, before the hunger pains could be dulled with some French cuisine. ‘Pelee’, watched over us whilst we ate, not the patron the restaurant by chance, but the 4500foot active volcano above us. Pele had erupted in 1902, and covered the whole town of St. Pierre in layers of ash and mud. It wasn’t so much the pyroplastic flows that killed all of the people of the town, more the extreme heat and suffocating gases that flowed down the valley with the prevailing winds. Not even the yachts at anchor in the busy port of those days could survive. Accounts of yachts on fire, with flames licking and engulfing whatever it could reach. With a force of 40 times that of the nuclear blast in Hiroshima, St. Pierre was laid to waste within minutes. The towns only survivor, by a stoke of luck for him maybe, was a man imprisoned in his cell a few feet under ground. The thick stonewalls keeping him from the heat, giving him a second chance you might say…
Walking amongst the ruins of the partially re-built seaside homes sent a shiver up my spine. It just felt like you shouldn’t be there, maybe treading on uneasy ground.

Now sailors often have the inability to pass up the opportunity of a free drink. We browsed the neatly manicured lawns and buildings of a rum distillery, seeing first hand how the cane from the neighboring fields is cut, crushed and juiced, fermented in massive vats, then in to the Oak barrels for aging. Last stop was the gift shop, for sampling, and a possible purchase. 60% proof was the highest content available, sure to put hairs on your chest! Or in my case remove a few. Noted though if this story deteriorates, you’ll know I've had my quota.
It was time to throw the lines and continue towards the Leeward Islands. Up and down with the new spinnaker, which is 30% larger than the old one. And I though the old was big, its pale in comparison to this!
Sun shining and the fishing lines set, hoping for dinner to take the line to the deep. It came as the south end of Dominica was abeam. A gutsy effort from a 40lb Long Billed Spearfish, gaffed, cleaned and ready to serve as supper.
Continuing through the day with the trades filling the canvas, and the sheets tight. We sailed around and into Le Saints. An underway deployment of the small tender, to retrieve the fishing line off a locals fishing buoy, whoops! No harm done and the anchor weighed for a day or so of shopping ashore for the owners.
Hoisting the mainsail again, and easing away across the channel to a northern anchorage off the coast of Guadeloupe. The forests and fauna from the waters edge stretch up towards the sunshine; I've never been ashore here, but have heard that the island is filled with some amazing trails, some leading up to huge waterfalls with the option to have a cleansing swim after the jungle hike, sounds very inviting.
The wind funneled, driven by the narrow valley to the east. Timoneer swung at anchor, but she was firmly set into the mud bottom; not going to drag tonight.
Pushing into a small swell, tight on the wind towards Antigua. The rain squalls kept coming and coming, the breeze built with the weather, and 40 knots displayed on the wind indicator. Ease on all the sheets, and a reef on the headsail. The owner was loving seeing his yacht pushed to its edge. I had my fingers crossed; a broken boat isn’t a lot of fun for crew.
The wind dropped off to a comfortable speed as we entered the mouth of English Harbour. But the rain kept up, and by the time the two anchors were set and the stern lines ashore, we were all drenched through, the tropics gave us all a free rinse.
English Harbour is famed for the long narrow bay, where Lord Nelson kept the English fleet during the battles for the islands of the Caribbean. Imagine the forts on either side of the narrow entrance, with cannon’s firing from above. Outside and below the Spanish, French or Dutch square-rigged galleons, broadside to the fort walls, 40pound cannons recoiling after the ignition has been lit. Officer’s yelling for a ‘reload’ as the black powder smoke lifts into the air disappearing into the distance, driven on the trade winds of the West Indies.
Staying tied up in Antigua for a few days was great fun. A few very cool bars and restaurants to visit, and a small bit of time to catch up with old friends. I slipped away for a half days kite-boarding at the north end of the island. Awesome to get back on the water and riding again, it had been way to long!
A change in guests, with the owners leaving bound to the warmth of the winter retreat in Florida. The arrival of the owner’s daughter and her family, with a few close friends, and four children in all. We had baby proofed the yacht as much as we could without making it to awkward to navigate around the decks.
On the move again, and once more surrounded by coral reefs. Neatly tucked into the flat calm anchorage behind Green Island on the southeast tip of Antigua.
This time around the West Indies were hosting the Cricket World Cup. A little persuasion to the captain and we had tickets to watch the hosting team play Australia.
A sparkling new stadium with good cricket, live music, cold beer, and a little rain. This meant that half the game was postponed till the next day. Another half day off work, and more cricket, no complaints from me. Unfortunately the Aussies demolished the home side, by a considerable margin. Nonetheless it was fantastic to get out and see the flavor of cricket in the Caribbean style.
Following a stormy day of stronger than forecast winds, we hauled the anchor and snuck out through the reef, on route for St. Bart’s, due West.
An all day sail until the shape of the French island appeared over the horizon, finishing up close to the main town, and some great snorkeling ground for the guests to explore.
St. Bart’s is to me an expensive Island, very pretty though, well looked after, and almost designed to take a little bit of cash out of your pocket. The gorgeous beaches of the northern side are decorated in fine French dining and boutiques, making it the ideal getaway for honeymooners, or guests in this regard.
With the stewardess aboard, we took the opportunity to have night dive while the guests were ashore for dinner. Stepping off the swim platform into the dark water can take a little bit of courage, but being surrounded by the darkness is an experience no to be missed. Deflating the buoyancy compensator and slinking slowly to the depths, shining the high-powered flashlights in the direction of the sea floor. The colors come alive at night. Some of the fish sleep, and don’t mind to be tickled awake again. We were swimming by the compass course, when a loom of blue light appeared in font of us. Silhouetted by the rocks, it looked like some thing out of a deep-sea-diving-adventure film. It was true; we were not alone down there. Another group of divers were experiencing the similar feeling, and enjoying the perfect visibility for taking film, and still photo’s of the reef, and life the amongst it. Incredibly enjoyable to see what the night has to offer in the underwater realm.
Time to slip to the next island of St. Maarten only 30miles away. The captain guided Timoneer through narrow swing bridge and onto her berth. It had been a long six weeks of owners and guests, and it was almost too easy to wave good-bye at the airport terminal.
It has been fascinating to visit and discover the magic of the islands of the Caribbean. Although I am reminded to remember that the journey isn’t the only reward, a well earned ‘sleep-in’ tomorrow morning. That I could settle for…

NORTHERN EXPOSURES!
June to September 2006
Pacific Halibut and Chips, Fresh Wild Salmon, and who can forget the Northern Cold Water Oysters!
‘The Last Frontier’, and it lives up to its name as I found out over the summer months whilst cruising with the owner, and family.
Beating head long into a large swell off the coast of California, a westerly heading to try and make it around the never-ending low pressure systems coming from the polar caps. At this rate we were going to be in Japan some time mid way through next week, but the swell eased with the wind and the forecasts were correct, a more northerly course was set.
Nine days from San Diego to the base of the Kenai Peninsula. Clear skies greeted the morning, which began with a 3am daybreak. Amazing views of Mt. Augustine smoking away on the starboard side to the west, the Katmai National park in all the glory as we passed over the smooth seas into the infamous ‘Cook Inlet’. The tide wasn’t favorable to get into the marina in ‘Homer’, so a spot of Halibut fishing was on the cards to kill an hour or two. Not much more than 5minutes had the lines reached the muddy bottom a rather large flat fish had the hook in its mouth. Lunchtime was looking very tasty!
Homer is as far as u can go south from Anchorage, “A small drinking town with a large fishing problem” (its on the bumper sticker). A mildly touristy area, with an enormous amount of charter boats and seaside activities to peruse in the summer.
The day light hours were very long with only a small bit of darkness each morning. It made you not really want to sleep much; the local ‘Salty Dawg Saloon’ was a good place to escape the light for a few hours anyway.
The Alaskan adventure wouldn’t be complete without a little local knowledge, and shown how to catch some Kenai Red Salmon the proper way, a Gillnet. A good friend of the captain took some of the crew way from the yacht to a fishing shack up the peninsula. The basics were there, and the mosquito’s were out in force too. Sockeye on the BBQ and cold Alaskan beer, an unbeatable mix! Unfortunately engine trouble forced us to be land based, but it was a great adventure away from the daily routines aboard the yacht, and nice to see parts of the land which its rare to see when u are working on the water so often.
The journey began with a few short stays at the area around the Kashemak Bay. A beautiful and rare blue-sky day greeted some of our guests. The plan was to hike to a glacier lake, which was amazing in the sunshine. Spending the night tied up to a public dock at a small recluse village, full of artists and lovers of the time well spent close to nature. Pushing off and through the night to the western edge of the volcanic Katmai National Park. Arriving in the misty conditions so well known to this area, a narrow passage to negotiate before the anchor was weighed. The presence of bears had been slim so far on the trip; this was all about to change. ‘Bear, Bear’ was the yell from our young guests. Firing up the tender and all aboard for a closer look. To see such a massive, powerful animal up close is impressive. Luckily the shoreline dropped off quite sharply and allowed me to get the tender within 20 feet of this grizzly character, the thing was… he wasn’t the least bit worried.
We cruised the magical Geographic Bay, and neighboring inlets for the next couple of days. Plenty more bears to view, and the odd halibut taking the line for a run. At times I would just take a step back and think I’m in Alaska, its just such an incredible place, such contrasts from mountains to the low lying islands on the coast line, just amazing!
Winding the halyard to the top of the mast, bring on the sheet, and the kite is set in the Shelikof Strait, next stop Kodiak Island. A gorgeous day, light winds and the haze of the national park in the distance. The 7-knot tidal stream through Whale Passage was a little hairy as the ‘liquid sunshine’; so known to Kodiak came down. There is a small town there, friendly people, a rough local beer named after the weather, but nice to visit and have a small look around.
Another overnight passage, heading northeast to the lower end of the Kenai Peninsula. I was awoken after my early morning watch to the sound of ice scraping down the waterline. It wasn’t far to the face of the first tidewater glacier! In your ears you could hear the rumbling and cracking of Ice grinding away in the distance. An amazing sight to behold, when you are a quarter of a mile away! Then when a rather large section calves off into the freezing cold water, and sends up spray that’s higher that the mast, closely followed by a wave of a few feet which rolls down the bay. The smoothed rock formations on each side of the Arm tower above you, and the bleeding rusty patches show from years of abuse by the retreating glacier. The young guests madly braved the icy conditions for a quick summer dip, or more of a jump in and springboard back out again, the temperature, a mere 38F (3C)!
The trip continued with some humpback whale action, not far from our next stop, the city of Seward. Yet another picture perfect day to tie up to. Placed at the northern end of Resurrection Bay, Seward is where the Alaskan railroad begins its trip up into the northern exposures. The beginning of the ‘Ididarod’ dog sled race, started by the need to get medical supplies to the out lying areas of Alaska some 938 miles away. Seward turned out to be a very cool little place with a touch of older-style Alaska in its foundations.
Our first load of guests stepped off with a feeling of seeing some things many will never have the opportunity to see, and visiting some definite out of the way places, I think the crew enjoyed it too. The owner arrived a few days later, with enough time to provision, clean up and get ready for another 3 weeks of cruising.
Part of the first half of the journey, was back to south of Seward to revisit the glaciers and an amazing 300foot high water fall. The gods smiled on us and the blue-sky backdrop made for some awesome photographs. The captain found a shallow patch in front of glacier and asked if we would like to stay there for the night. The scene was set, with still lots of daylight hours, and plenty of warm clothing, most of the crew sat up on deck and watched nature unfold in massive chunks of ice. The sound of ice scrapping down the hull was a little unsettling at first as I tried to fall asleep.
‘Prince William Sound’ was the next leg, a reasonable long day traveling into a beautiful little bay in the south western corner, which had a river full of pink salmon, and black bears chasing them. A few of us went ashore for a closer look. Very cool to see how easily these bears can catch the salmon and score a quick snack. We left them alone after a few photos and retreated back to Timoneer.
The vastness of Prince William Sound never stopped to intrigue me; we covered many miles, and anchored in numerous different bays. Set the shrimp pots on occasions and collected a few some days. Traveled into a small town called ‘Wittier’, I knew some thing was strange about this place when I saw a local girl of no more that 10, sporting a “POW” hooded sweatshirt. I later found out that it meant ‘Prisoner of Wittier’. The town originated from a world war two submarine base, then it was only accessible by the water, and its location was tucked up in the head of a big valley, with mountains on each sides. The thought was that the enemy radar couldn’t see in, and the usually unpleasant weather would help also. Interestingly enough, 80% of the resident lived in the re-furbished army barracks, the poster on the wall explained it all, ‘Suicide hurts others Too!’ There is an escape route now via the new tunnel, no longer a prisoner of Wittier, if you choose to be.
Launching the tender (or skiff as we called it up here), into the ice for our Rick Tomlinson impersonation. Framing the yacht with the harsh glacier light wasn’t to easy; some great photos did come out but after a lot of effort. On the way to the town of Valdez, the sharp turn to port took us and the owner up to one of the largest glaciers in Prince William Sound. The ice flow was too thick for such a big boat, and some of the icebergs were the size of a 4-bedroom house. Some more photos, in the warm of the not often seen sun, it does rain a lot up here! We tied stern to an old wharf and had a chance to check out the town for the evening. Valdez is where in 1989, 11million gallons of Alaskan north slope crude oil spilled out of the tanker which ran up on to the rocks on its way out of the sound. The evidence that a massive oil spill had happened up here is almost unnoticeable now after the widespread disaster of then. It was on the cards to go and have a drink at the bar where the captain had his infamous scotch on the rocks, before he put the ship up there too. Lots of characters, and the gold rush can-can girls made the evening very entertaining in Valdez.
To most fisherpersons in Alaska, it is normal to head out and drop a few lines in and hope to catch a salmon or 2. We took the record though, 147-foot ketch with 3 salmon lines off the aft deck, the most comfortable ride out there and we caught some fish too. It wasn’t all fishing at 2 knots though, the miles kept ticking over each day; the plan was to start heading to the southeastern part of Alaska, but not quite yet. Traveling down many straights and passages named after Captain Cook’s crew and seeing the bay where one of his artists drew the square rigger careened for the repairs to her hull after coming off second best to some of Prince William Sounds sharpest opponents. They must have been a hardy bunch back then, and to navigate though waters like this. You can’t see the bottom, and some days you just can’t see anything at all!
Surviving another harbor entry with the tender in front taking sounding, we docked in 17 feet of water at Cordova, a pretty little town on the southeastern part of the sound. The sun turned up again, along with a huge family of sea otters, they are likely to take the cutest Alaska animal award, voted by the chef of course.
In the cold-water wake off the stern a pod of Dall Dolphins played about, it was as if they were saying good bye as we turned, and set sail southwards. Prince William Sound to me is one of the most beautiful untouched parts of the planet. Millions of acres of untouched forest, pods of Orcas chasing the herring schools, and the understanding from the people of here to leave it as u found it, and to protect the resources that were created for all to enjoy.
Watching the radar as the rain fell and the visibility decreased, on a course for Yacutat, the home of the ‘Icy Waves Surf Shop’. I brought the T. shirt, and peer pressured into a surf in the near freezing conditions, it has to be done though, but only once I can tell you
The Icy Straits were a welcome relief from the Gulf of Alaska. With increasing wind and bitter cold outside, we were all grateful for the inside helm position, and a warm cup of tea. The southeast parts of Alaska was to home for the next few weeks, it is an area cruised by quite a few yachts over the summer months and a lot of tourist activities available. We spent some time around the areas outside from Juneau, before docking and letting the owner off to head home and enjoy the summer elsewhere. With the owner gone it was a good time to do a little exploring around Alaska’s capital. If you are a lover of the outdoors and not to scared of the rain, there are some great hikes to be had in the many hills and glaciers. And even if you aren’t into the long distance walks, just step out of your car walk no more than 100 feet and u can be looking at a mother black bear and her cubs fishing for sockeye salmon, a very well thought out setup. Juneau itself is geared towards the tourist, with the streets lined with jewelry stores and souvenirs. But if you are away from the front section of the city, away from the cruise ship docks, you will find a pleasant little cove of fun bars and restaurants for the picking. The local beer is so good; I made a special trip to the brewery, free tasting might have been the reason though!
It was time to move on again, we had been to the famous ‘Glacier Bay’. I can’t honestly say I have seen it, the clouds were out in force there, but I'm very sure it would be a picture perfect place on its given day. My father had arrived from New Zealand for the delivery down to San Francisco. He had never been out of the south pacific so it was a big trip ahead. We had few weeks to make it down the coast and time to explore the southeastern areas to Ketchikan. In 1995 the old Timoneer traveled extensively around these part, and reading up on the old logbook and the scribbles on the chart, I devised a plan. You couldn’t have asked for a better trip, it had it all. Up Tracy Arm to see the calving glaciers, watching a pod of humpback whales bubble feeding on plankton, and finally a good tail photo! Relaxing in the hot pools in Warm Springs Bay, a cold beer in hand, and a roaring waterfall now more than 10 feet away. Just when u think it couldn’t get any better, it does. Casting to thousand of silver salmon in a bay outside of a hatchery, you couldn’t really miss, but such a good fight on the fly rod. Setting the crab pots each day, and getting a few as well. Retreating into a small bay after seeing 45knots across the deck, the small streams at the end of this long arm had a run of pink salmon that were at the tail of there life and returning down stream exhausted, and ready to replenish the waters of the southeast.
Sunshine over came the gray as we sailed into Ketchikan, another small Alaskan town with a character all of its own. The journey though the ‘Last Frontier’ had come to an end, and San Francisco awaits. It has been amazing though, with land that seemed to stretch on forever and a beauty all to its own. With the countless friendly people along the way, it might just give you a very good reason to call Alaska your home.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. Enjoy yourself and keep smiling,
Take care, and hope to hear from you soon,
Love Bevan