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From: Bob Carter <revkayak_at_aptalaska.net> subject: [Paddlewise] Thar she blows, matey! Date: Tue, 7 Sep 2004 14:07:49 -0800 · This archive was generated by hypermail 2.4.0 : Thu Aug 21 2025 - 16:33:39 PDT

I have not posted a trip report in a while. As some of you know I am trying to
get my book published an some writer friends advised me that publishers would
be relunctant to publish my book if it was already out there on the net. Still
I wanted to share with you folks an exciting even that took place on my last
trip. My son and I paddled from Petersburg to Kake through Rocky Pass. This
account is from the last day of the trip. The "haze" I refer to is the smoke
from forest fires in the interior of Alaska and Canada. Hope you enjoy.

Bob

    The final day we paddle into a thickening haze. The VHF weather broadcasts
a warning to mariners about low visibility. I turn on the GSP and watch the
mileage click by. At the two mile mark I paddle up beside Martin

"Congratulation"

"Huh"

"You just hit 75 miles"

    Martin raises both hands in the air like a sprinter winning the Olympic
gold metal.

I snap a picture for posterity and inwardly celebrate.

"I'm proud of you" I say as I paddle by. Martin celebrates with yet another
power bar and a swig of tang.

            The haze increases steadily and we drop to a mile or two of
visibility. We are out of the main boat channel but no longer revel in the
sight of distant mountains or islands. After a couple of hours we began to
hear the deep resounding breath of whales somewhere in the haze. We peer into
the gathering gloom but the whales elude us.

            We paddle on wishfully listening to distant leviathan. Gradually
the breathing grown deeper and closer and I wishfully imagine I can see
distant plume of hot spray.

Whump! In the distant haze I see a massive splash.

"Martin, breech!"

"I saw it!"

    Soon we begin to see tails and flukes rise and fall beneath the sea. At
last the plumes of breath stand out amid the haze. As we paddle more and more
whales appear. We are mesmerized by this display of grandeur and sheer joy.
How many are there I wonder? I am guessing at least a dozen feed off to our
left and we see more tails ahead.

            With a couple of miles to go we pull land on Eva Island for a
break. We watch whales out in the deep channel knowing soon we will leave them
behind. One whale draws our attention. Unlike the others with their deep base
exhales this one sounds more like a distant whistle of a train, high pitched
and musical. We nickname him "Hootie".

            Martin moves out and rounds the point of the island while I adjust
my spray skirt.

"Dad!"

I look up to see a humpback whale a boat length in front of Martin. Martin
sits frozen as another whales surfaces to his right. As I rush to join him I
look around to see tails, flukes, jaws, and spray everywhere.  We must be
looking at least three dozen whales caught up in a feeding frenzy. I swear I
can see Martin's heart beating through his PFD. I can feel mine in my throat.

"Dad", Martin yells, "are you sure about this?".

"We don't have a choice we have to make it to the ferry terminal"

" I don't think this is a good idea." Just then another whale surfaces close
by. Off to the West another whale breaches.

"Will be O.K."

"I don't know."

 "Come on, stick close."

            Silence.

            We start across the two mile open crossing to Hamilton Island.
Would be Jonah's we venture forth into the realm of whales. Tails rise and
slide beneath the waves. Backs rise out of the water and explode with hot
steamy breath. Huge mouths lunge across the surface devouring all in their
way.  Bubbles burst upon the surface followed by an eruption of whales.

"Whoa!"   Fifty yards away a  humpback flies up out of the water hangs
magically for a moment in the air then plunges with a white explosion back
into the sea.

With a shaking voice several octaves higher than normal Martin yells " we
ought to turn back, this is crazy!"

"No, keep going!"

As if on cue three whales surface to our right and cut across our path.

"Dad!"

"Bang you deck with your fist let them know where you are."

We pound our decks and the whales pass.

My heart pounds and my knees shake. I thrill in the presence of  the biggest
pod of whales I have ever seen. At the same time fear knots in my stomach. To
a forty ton whale we are a mere twig floating on the surface. Has a whale ever
hit a kayaker? If so I doubt anyone has ever lived to tell the tale. Like a
general weighing the odds in battle, I balance adventure and fear. To venture
forth in the midst of the dance of leviathians or to play it safe in a shallow
cove.  There is only one choice, onward into life.

 "Come on, Martin let's go".

"I don't know if we should be out here!"

            I look  at Martin's face. His eyes glow wide taking in all the
adventure and life around him. Though Martin's voice trembles with both fear
and excitement, his face tells the whole story as it shines with a huge smile.
The thrill out weights the fear. Passion for life upon the sea out weights the
danger of the moment. He paddles in the midst of  life at its fullest and
grandest. Joy fills his heart and touches his soul.  He paddles from boyhood
deeper into manhood.   He belongs here in the midst of wind, waves and
whales.

"This is why I brought you here, son!" I yell knowing he will remember this
moment for the rest of his life.

Whoosh! A whale surfaces right behind Martin and with a flurry of paddle
stokes he surges ahead.

In the midst of the chaos I hear the scream of a bird. I look up to see
several gulls and a couple artic terns hovering over something in the water
directly ahead of us.

"Stop, hold!" I yell to Martin

He frantically back paddles. Though I feel the excitement of the moment my
knees are shaking from trepidation. Being slammed by a whale could prove
deadly.

"Let's go around!" I shout. So we quickly turn left and skirt this cluster of
feed in the water before a whale swallows krill and kayaks.

Two sets of whales converge from the left and right cruising past us racing to
a patch of feed. Again we stop and allow the beasts to pass. Another pair of
whales lunge feeds to our left throwing their long curved flukes high into the
air.

We are both paddling on adrenaline forgetting the fatigue we felt earlier.
Just when we thought we were past the whales another surfaces in front of us.
The moment will not let us go.

Finally we reach the tip of Hamilton Island and find a shallow cove. My hands
are cramping up. I didn't realize that I had been paddling white knuckled the
whole time. I look over at Martin and he is flexing his fingers dealing with
the same cramps.

We talk and recreate the entire crossing sharing and resharing the moment. Out
on the sea we hear Hootie sing upon the waters

"Just think of the tale you can now tell about whales", I joke to Martin. He
answers with a tired smile.

            A mile to go and we spot the ferry terminal through the evening
haze. Exhausted by the whales we paddle, stop, and paddle our way in. The seas
lay calm and as we approach the last 100 yards. I notice small circles forming
around the boat. At first I think it is water droplets flung from my paddle
but then I laugh as I realize after nine days of the hot, dry weather, here in
the last moments it has begun to rain.

            Late that night we stand under a shelter at the ferry terminal in
Kake waiting for the ferry that will take us home. Out on the sea we hear the
whales breathing deep. Hootie sounds again and again, his song rolling across
the waters calling us back out upon the sea, back out to the midst of his
world, his kingdom of the wind and waves.

"One day my friend, one day".
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