Resurrection Bay, 1989

Otter Resurrection Bay
July 26-30, 1989

Even before we bought the Bayliner, we had some great adventures on the water. In the summer of 1989, we loaded a 12-foot aluminum boat with food, gas, and a foldable Klepper kayak and made a late-night dash across Resurrection Bay to Agnes Cove, at times exposed to the whole Gulf of Alaska. When the light faded and icebergs from a nearby glacier began to float by, Dennis decided to camp somewhat short of our destination. The following day was sunny, so we went for a pleasure ride before continuing to Agnes Cove and hoisting the aluminum boat above the high tide line. An orca breached in the distance and a minke whale swam not far from the boat. There were rafts of puffins.

At Agnes Cove, we packed our camping gear to the top of a steep pass and took the kayak on over to Paradise Cove. Hundreds of sea gulls use the low pass to fly from Resurrection to Aialak Bay. Occasionally we heard what sounded like a whirr, a thunk and a dying scream. Dennis found a freshly killed and eaten gull. What was happening?

Then I saw it. A medium-sized dark bird dove with incredible speed and struck an unsuspecting gull. It fell to earth in a flurry of feathers and the raptor swooped down on it. Everything happened so fast that I could not positively identify the bird, but peregrine falcons, gyrfalcons and a host of other raptors nest in the cliffs here. It was a first for me to see such a hunt.

We set up the kayak in the evening and went out on silky smooth water. The sun stays up late in the summer so we continued on to Aialak Bay, rounding a point through a sea cave at low tide. Waves belched and gurgled in the cave and sloshed up and down on cliffs covered with kelp and starfish. Gulls screed and reeled overhead. Waterfalls brushed the surface of the sea and I got one arm drenched filling the water jugs.

The next day was clear and hot. We packed a lunch and paddled across the cove. Looking down through crystal clean water, we saw thousands of small white jellyfish suspended at all depths and fading into the deep darkness below. A pair of otters splashed and played. We paddled south toward the open ocean. A seal silently slipped his head above water only a few yards behind us, investigating our unfamiliar appearance. Hundreds of seabirds took wing as we neared their roosts.

Around one point and then another, we looked for a place to put in for lunch. No beaches or quiet coves here. To the south was a string of sparkling islands and the great Pacific Ocean. Dennis spotted a rocky cove with a waterfall and a fairly good place to put in. I was terrified to get close to the rocks, but we disembarked without incident and pulled the kayak up a slick kelp ramp. We ate, then showered in the warm waterfall. An otter was diving for food and cracking shells on his stomach just below us. As we sunbathed and surveyed the beautiful world around us, I thought that if I died tomorrow, I would have experienced as much perfection as this world has to offer.

After a timeless hour or two, we noticed that the tide had turned and we should be on our way. Embarking again safely could be tricky. We packed, I got in, and Dennis was nearly seated when, without warning, the kayak flipped upside down. Dennis fell right out, but I was trapped underneath. The life jacket and spray skirt impeded my efforts to kick free. The water was amazingly warm and comfortable. I didn't panic, just kicked and swam until I was back to air. Dennis panicked. It took me a long time to surface.

We recovered everything but a bag of candy and had no trouble getting off on the second try. We could find no reason for the mishap, except perhaps the rise and fall of the water had caused the bow or stern to touch a rock momentarily. It was a sobering lesson.

The next day was moist and silent. Clouds, black and ragged, hung low on the cliffs. We decided not to venture far. In the next bay north we put in on a sandy beach and filled our water jugs at a falls. We started a fire, using only flint, steel, a small piece of cotton and what little dry wood we could find. I gathered salmonberries and boiled them into a tasty tea. The dark clouds finally surrendered their rain, in soft sprinkles at first that blurred the boundary between air and water. It was warm as we paddled back, and I felt like a seal slipping silently through liquid air. As we neared Paradise Cove, we found ourselves surrounded by dall porpoise fishing for salmon.

That night, the next day, and the following night, it poured and poured, sheets and buckets of rain. Our teacups sitting outside were filled twice. I feared the steep trip back to the aluminum boat and the open water crossing ahead. I swore I'd kiss the ground when we were safely back to the car.

Sunday, the weather was better. Dennis made a decision to go. We climbed down the muddy hill with the last of our gear, loaded, and changed into our last dry clothing. Some fishermen in Agnes Cove radioed for a weather report and showed us their catch--two seven-foot sharks!

The trip home was easy. But there were so many fisherman on shore when we landed at Seward that I was too embarrased to kiss the ground.

All this happened four days. I can't begin to express how much I love the clean wildness of Alaska!