Solo in the wilderness and enjoying the comfort of heat-until I don’t

Dear friends and family,

Last night was my first night at anchor, so as I expected, I did not sleep that well. I know from years of experience that it takes me a few days to get used to my dwelling being attached to the bottom of the ocean by a metal anchor and a piece of chain and be comfortable with it.

Have I done this literally thousands of times? Of course, but each year it still takes some getting used to. 

Even the first afternoon at anchor, in the wild, disconnected from the internet, I enjoy the solitude. Being connected would offer me better weather reports so provides more potential safety, but I find that I would spend far too much time online. In my case there is also the fact that I am not interested in funding a certain provider of Starlink any more funds to add to his being already the richest man in the world and his recent political actions.

So, I am forced to take time to sit and cogitate. Read and write time. Forced.

Even at my age I still need to be forced it seems as my self control sometimes is lacking. Do I read and write and even cogitate a lot when connections IS available? Yes, but. But that being the only choice offers me the last bit of control, the place that self control is lacking.

If you want to be a runner everyday, place your shoes ready by the door, is the advice to continue, so if you want to be a writer and reader offer that as only alternative for entertainment is the way I use it. Who knows? Someday I might just develop self control to do it all on my own. At least by the time I turn 21 years old, I once figured.

Solo. Thoughts.

I notice that several books that captivated me over the years have been about solo adventurers. All of my earlier adventures have been with partners, climbing partners, sailing partners, hiking partners, rowing partners. And they have developed into some of my closest friends over the years, so most have been very positive experiences.

So, what is the attraction now of going on solo adventures? 

It forces me to spend more time in cogitation, thinking about things. 

I believe that solo adventuring is harder by a factor of more than one, not just one less partner, but an entire different mindset.

Load carrying if on a bicycle and camping. 

Decision making, checking each other’s mistakes. 

If one is not at best, hurt or sick or even tired

Confidence building, “we’ve got this”

Humor-harder to enjoy humor alone, but I find-not impossible. 

Different skill sets that can be complementary

Tasks shared-Ill cook, you clean up. I will navigate, you rest up.

I like the shared adventuring and I like the solo adventuring, both. I find in my case that I tend to worry about the other person’s comfort, stress and fears which make it worse for both of us, since I transfer those feelings to the other. Something here to learn.

So, I think well into my fifth year in Southeast Alaska I have finally figured out how to forecast and interpret the weather forecasts.

In this quote from Harry Fielding Reid, an American geologist who studied glaciers in the National Park and had one named after him here is the best version of interpretation for weather in Southeast Alaska:

Reid wrote. “We have concluded that there are many infallible signs of rain in this region. If the sun shines, if the stars appear, if there are clouds or if there are none; these are all sure indications. If the barometer falls, it will rain; if the barometer rises, it will rain; if the barometer remains steady, it will continue to rain.”

So, at least now I understand. Got that out of the way. The rain in the last week set records for this time of year in all of Southeast Alaska. My hope is that the clouds run out of rain in a few days and the remainder of the summer will be sunny and dry, isn’t that how it works?

I enjoyed some lovely anchorages, mostly alone, but a couple of times a fishing boat would anchor near the entrance, coming in late and leaving early. 

A new favorite spot I found was Gut Bay, on the east side of Baranof Island. It has a very narrow entrance and then opens into a huge bay inside a group of steep and snow covered mountains, so steep that no VHF radio signals penetrate. 

It rained steadily, so I put on my thin wetsuit and went out in the dinghy for exercise and exploration. I kind of surprised an anchored boater about a mile and a half away from me who thought he was the only boat in the bay. Who expected to find a guy in a dinghy showing up in the pouring rain in the middle of nowhere and knocking on your hull?

Rowing generates a lot of body heat, even in a thin (3mm) wetsuit so I was quite comfortable. And I knew I had a hot shower waiting for me on Hongvi upon my return. A warm and cozy boat.

The next morning it all changed as I turned the heater on, listened to it work for ten minutes, then turn itself off. That meant no cabin heat, no hot water for dishes or shower either. Years ago while sailing in the tropics, I didn’t have those things, so I guess I am getting soft in my years, or maybe it’s just not sailing the tropics anymore. It was 45 F outside, and now inside, same as the water temperature.

I did the troubleshooting and maintenance that I should have done earlier at the dock (before leaving) and realized that I should probably get back to Wrangell where I could have cell coverage and internet for repair videos and video chat with Chris, my mechanic and friend. 

But, no weather reports available, so was able to text via the Garmin Explorer to Liz to get a wind forecast. Turned out that my first choice, to re-round the bottom of Kuiu Island and head back the way I came had pretty severe weather, so going north and through the Wrangell Narrows was a safer option.

As I departed Gut Bay, the weather was as forecast at 15-20 knots out of the south. Since I was headed northeast it was a perfect angle to sail, and sail I did. Three hours of quiet sailing on a broad reach was fun, even though the trough of the waves gave us quite a lot of roll to knock unsecured stuff off of shelves. 

A mere nine hours of travel found us inside Portage Bay, halfway back to Wrangell. 

The next day would be another 9-10 hours including a stretch through the Wrangell Narrows, with the 63 channel markers to stay within, which meant staying at the helm for over three hours. Normally, Celeste,the self steering mechanism steers, so I am free to move about, prepare food, etc and just watch my course and traffic.

So to prepare it was: sandwich made-check, snacks ready-check, pee bottle if needed-check, two jugs of electrolyte drink ready-check.

Since I had transited this passage a few times before, it was fairly easy even in the wind and rain, but I had to pay attention.

Coming out of the bottom of the Narrows, I expected bigger winds in Sumner Strait for the 20 miles back to Wrangell, but was hoping the forecast was accurate with southeast winds so I could sail, but it was not to be. The wind was on the nose (due east) at about 25 knots, which could make it really rough. However with the big tides and currents in Alaska if the wind and current are moving together in the same direction, in my case against me, the waves are very low even in big winds. The challenge is that the boat speed against both averaged less than four knots even with the engine RPM’S cranked up high. Patience, grasshopper!

Hongvi took it easily, but the skipper was exhausted as we entered the harbor in a zero tide to very carefully cruise to our slip, with very little water under our keel. 

Knowing I was mostly brain dead, I took the next day to lounge and recover, once I retrieved my electric heater from my storage unit. Yup, cabin heat and hot water ARE nice things.

So, due to this interruption, summer plans will be a changing once the heater parts arrive and I install them. Not sure yet what lies ahead.

Sending love,

Charley