Woman Who Paddles with Sea Wolves
A Kayak Adventure out of Wrangell, Alaska
July 15, 2014
Floating alone in my kayak in the calm dark night, I sit with blissful awe and a faint degree of terror as the super moon rises over LeConte Bay. I am somewhere between the most southerly tidewater glacier in North America and the wild, untamed Stikine River delta. Any minute now I will be stranded at low tide on mudflats in grizzly bear country.
“Oh you really did yourself in this time Alison?” I thought to myself as the last trickle of low tide escapes beneath me. As of yesterday morning, I didn’t have any plans in Wrangell when I arrived on the ferry. I just showed up, with a thirst for adventure, after it had finally stopped raining!
As the yellow moonlight streams onto my turquoise kayak lying in the muddy landscape, it dawns on me that I am not alone out here. All around me are beached icebergs, standing like eerie glowing giants under the moon. Only a few hours ago I was dodging eroding ‘bergs in saltwater on my kayak as they flipped over and exploded in the extreme tide. This was a slightly easier obstacle than dodging drift logs near fresh grizzly tracks after taking the wrong turn down a Stikine tributary. Around sunset I lost track of time. I became mesmerized by the bus-sized slabs of ice calving off the quickly receding tidewater glacier. The ice echoed like distant war bombs against enormous sheer walls of carved bedrock in the fjord.
Delirious from the full day of paddling, I pulled my sleeping bag up around my shoulders from inside the kayak, and wait for the tide to come back.
There I was, fast asleep, upright on a kayak in mudflats, unable to reach my Forest Service cabin, in the world’s greatest temperate rainforest, the Tongass National Forest. An enormous scale of wilderness was thriving all around me. This is a place where misty accreted terranes are dripping with spruce, cedar and hemlock, while bald eagles and ravens hover over their secret coves. Thousands of islands press against the Coast Mountains, ice sheets and fjords. On any given day you can expect to run into breaching humpback whales, fishing grizzly bears, socializing orca pods, hauled out barking Stellar sea lions, or playful otter romps. For an adventure traveler seeking solitude in nature, this spells out paradise.
Only a month ago I arrived in Sitka—a charming maritime town with remnants of Russian heritage in totem country. I was tickled in the local coffee shop to discover all the residents wearing Sitka slippers (Alaska’s notorious XtraTuf boots.) In a nearby park, native Tlingit history comes to life amidst totem poles towering over spawning Coho salmon in the Indian River.
Before too long I boarded an old minesweeper ocean cruiser as a Naturalist, and explored the gorgeous coastline around Baranof, Admiralty and Chichagof Islands (the ABC islands) for weeks. The most glorious day was spent relaxing in Baranof’s remote hot springs while sipping Sitka Spruce Tip Ale. The hot springs were perched alongside a magnificent cascading waterfall that meandered into a scenic bay where I pole caught my first salmon.
After experiencing such rustic luxury, how could anything possibly go wrong?!
Back on the kayak, my consciousness returns with the loud hum of millions of water droplets lifting me afloat again. Within minutes after the tidal surge, not even the croak of a raven could break the silence. It was still, dark and difficult to see. In a state of delirium, I manage to paddle to what look liked a safe place to sleep for a few hours, a tall grassy knoll. There I crawled along side my kayak to rest until dawn. Finally, I am horizontal! I could care less about bears at this point. Although I am cuddled close to my only means of self protection: pepper spray and my paddle blade.
I awake to strange noises. So I clasp my blade and tap loudly on the kayak hull, with my eyes still closed. I fall right back asleep. My eyes didn’t fully open until a black swarm of flesh-eating insects forced me upright into warrior pose. I proceed to hastily launch my kayak back in the water. To my surprise I was in the middle of a wetland, with barely enough drainage to make it back to the bay. As I jumped in the kayak, I paused in shock for a minute—perhaps even amazement. There is fresh wolf tracks circling my impromptu grassy knoll campsite!
“Ahh! Wolves! ….Nice doggies, nice doggies….” I sung it like a mantra while I fled the premises.
It’s one thing to be concerned about grizzlies, and another thing to realize you slept outside with sea wolves and icebergs instead. By sea wolf, or islands wolf, I am referring to a rare, smaller subspecies of gray wolf, known as the Alexander Archipelago wolf. They are found only along this region of the Pacific Northwest coast. I had learned all about them and their endangered species status tuning into Raven Radio in Sitka. I was so fond to see their cute canine faces carved into totem poles. It saddened me to discover that the rampant logging of old growth Sitka Spruce is compromising their habitat.
Here I was afraid of dwarf wolves who sniffed me out and protected me in the night. The sad irony is they are the ones that need protection.
With visions of protector wolf spirit in my head, I paddle like a world class Olympian down the the drainage canal as it loops and swirls like a roller coaster ride back into the bay–like a wave rolling back into the sea. Once I make it back, I feel the wave of relief. Phew, I barely escaped the black swarm in low tide…thanks to the sea wolf!
I’m so immersed in nature at this point, that I have essentially become a Tlingit tribal member 1,000 years. I am experiencing an era long before Western society came looking for pelts, pulp, and petroleum. This is the real Alaska: pure, amazing wilderness.
Its hard to believe, but what an incredible journey this is! I am completely connected to everything.
The large white moon is now hovering low on the Pacific horizon. The hazy purple and pink glow of dawn mirrors off the glassy seawater. I feel safe again, finally.
I dragged my kayak up the shore of a little island, close to where I slept under the full moon in the midst of the glowing ice giants. After being in the kayak all day and night, it feels miraculously surreal to walk on dry land again.
As the morning sun continues to rise, the beached icebergs transform into sparkling giant diamonds with incredibly bazaar shapes. I jump on the rare opportunity to do an imaginary Nat Geo photo shoot of the ice formations. Some resemble animal faces, while others look like pharaohs and sphinxes. In a photo frenzy, I click my camera away in utter joy. Afterward, I beach comb the island for shells. I picked wild berries. Then I lie bare in the warm sun on a bluebird day–no different than I would as a kid back home on a California beach. Best nap of my life!
Before long, the semi-diurnal tide rises back up again. It is a matter of time before the next low tide is upon me. The pressure is back on. I have a broken rudder and need to get past the dreaded Dry Straights right away–which my kayak outfitter repeatedly warned me about. Otherwise I’m lookin’ at being beached in the mud a second night, if I’m unable to paddle back to Wrangell.
After last night’s adventure, I know I could handle any obstacles. I am now Woman Who Paddles with Sea Wolves. The force is with me!
