Rocking and Rolling in Prince William Sound
July 22-23, 2004
With one thing after another (after another after another), two weeks passed after our planned date of departure for a sailing trip in Prince William Sound. We had to pack and unpack the coolers three times because of continuing crises and delays. We finally got out of the driveway and breathed a sigh of relief July 14.
Less than 20 miles later, the truck bogged down and wouldn't pull the boat. We borrowed a truck from a friend and launched, then came back to Anchorage and traded that truck in for a new one, a lot less classy, but on warranty! We never did find out what was wrong with the other one. By the time we got to the dealer, it was running fine.
We stepped the mast, rigged the boat, and finally cast off July 16. A few miles from port the outboard quit. Water in the gas! We limped back and drained all the gas, cleaned the tank, ran back to town for parts, and did what had to be done. It wasn't until July 17 that we finally got started on the real trip.
We quickly left all the stress behind and entered a fresh, new world. The weather was perfect, but a storm was en route. We decided to wait it out in Bear Cove on the west side of Knight Island. Our cruising guide said it was a very secure anchorage.
What the guide didn't say was how violent the williwaws are on that side of the island. Wind comes from the southeast and races unimpeded across the water to the island, where it is forced up and over the mountain peaks. It gains speed because of the Bernoulli effect, the same thing that causes an airplane wing to lift. Once at the top, it gathers force and smashes down the slopes onto whatever is below, in this case, us.
We had put out two heavy anchors with plenty of scope and tied everything down securely. At midnight, we were awakened by a violent blast that sent everything flying. By 2:00 a.m. it was impossible to sleep. For the next 16 hours, there was nothing we could do but hold on, as the boat was heeled over 25° at times. Once Dennis looked outside and saw a 30' waterspout headed our way. Our eyes were glued to the depth sounder and the GPS. We knew if the anchors dragged, we'd be on the rocks. Those wonderful instruments assured us that all was well far below in the inky water. The anchors held. It was indeed a secure anchorage.
The GPS makes a bread crumb trail of where the boat goes. By the time the wind abated, everything within the circle was practically black, like a ball of yarn tightly wound.
The sun never shown brighter than it did after that storm passed! The water calmed quickly and we continued on our way south to Drier Bay. We began to rely more and more on the GPS. It showed us right where we were in relation to the charted rocks and islands.
What we didn't anticipate were the uncharted rocks. We were perfectly in the clear according to the GPS and the water was hundreds of feet deep when the bottom started coming up rapidly until BOOM, we hit hard. Dennis crashed into the bulkhead, the barbeque smashed through the companionway, and I expected we'd sink any minute. We didn't. We floated off the rock, got into the canoe and took as good a look as we could at the keel. It was scratched but not misshapen. Very little water leaked in that night and since it was a weekend, we decided to stay out a few more days before taking it back to Whittier and hauling it out to inspect the damage.
For any of you sailors with a GPS, the exact coordinates of this rock are 60°19.829 N, 147°46.698 W. We'd have passed right over it if the tide had been high.
It was a great couple of days. Nearly 100 dall porpoise joined us once, racing and frolicking around the boat. We motored down narrow Bainbridge Passage and the tide changed in the middle, forming powerful whirlpools. I was hiking down a stream in an old mining camp when something black and furry walked out of the bushes only 20 feet or so ahead of me. A bear! I screamed! Dennis, down on the beach, yelled and shot into the air. The poor bear took off in terror and probably didn't stop for miles.
Only once during the trip was the wind right for sailing. Our bad luck—just as we got the sails up, an orca surfaced right in front of us. If we'd been motor powered, we could have stayed with it for awhile and taken pictures. It was a great sail, though, a perfect final day out. I almost cried when we had to go home.
Here are links to video clips and a slide show of our 2004 summer sailing: