For your reading or deleting pleasure Bob Carter Into Narnia Maurelle Island Wilderness Prince of Wales Island Alaska I felt in my bones that this day was too good to be true. Soft gentle fog and a windless morning greeted me. The morning's paddle spent upon peaceful seas. Now as if triggered by the pathos of cruel fate the long forgotten wind awakens from its slumber and flexes its muscle upon the sea. I watch as the glassy seas around me lose their calm reflection and slowly morph into chaos. Waves obeying their great master the wind begins to rise up out of the sea and march forth like a possessed army. The wind drives cat paws upon the sea and flings them at me to test my heart and soul. Why did the wind have to awaken now when I am half way through the longest open crossing of the trip? Ah such is life in a small boat upon a big sea. Still I have almost reached my dream, the Maurelle Islands Wilderness. Located six miles off the storm sieged coast of Prince Of Wales Island the Maurelle Islands have called to me like the Sirens unto Odysseus. Often when I have glanced at a map of Southeast Alaska my eyes have been drawn inexplicably to this cluster of remote islands. Thrusting out into the Gulf Of Alaska the Maurelles endure the winter wrath of the untamed Pacific storms. Dozen of shrubby islets and tree covered islands and bare naked rocks stand sentinel onto the sea. Something about their remoteness and tenacity calls out to me. Something in their potential to surprise and spell bound has drawn me here. Now if I can just make it. Not twenty minutes ago I left St.Phillip Island and set out upon this five mile open crossing. I left in perfect conditions knowing full well that Alaskan waters can lure the inexperienced and unprepared away from the safe footing of land and into the peril of the capricious sea. Now I battle unpredictable nature of the sea. I tuck my body forward and concentrate on my stroke. The better the technique the less effort. Still there will be no putting the paddle down till I am in the wind shadow of the Maurelle some three miles away. The wind picks up and begins to howl. I have my work cut out for me. The wind churns the water on the horizon black foretelling more wind to come. Tis the price we must sometimes pay to reach our dreams. "You were warned" says the Wind " Yes I know" Alas the day I was supposed to leave the morning sea was a kingdom of wind and rain. A small but powerful low pressure system had rolled in, a testimony that this land is ruled not by dreams but by the wind and waves. I sat and watched and relunctantly rewrote my schedule hoping that tomorrow would bring a better day. Thankfully it did. For two days I enjoyed favorable light winds and the sun playing peek a boo among the clouds. I wove a serpentine path through the islands watching birds and whale live their lives upon the sea. My muscles adjusted to the gear and food laden boat. Old tendons complained then fell into acceptance that I wasn't turning around. I paddle with some sadness. Martin my son was supposed to join me for this trip before heading off to college. Unfortunately he was feeling "rode hard and put away wet" from his summer job with the U.S. Forest Service and he was beginning to come down with a cold. Unfortunately he just wasn't up to the trip. Yet all sadness of his not being here is quickly being blown away by this wind. As tired and sick as he was I don't think he could have handled these conditions. Discretion is indeed the better part of valor. The wind flies dead in from the West and I wonder what conditions will be like out in the Maurelles. Here I am in their shadow as they take the blunt of the swells from the vast Pacific. I relish the power of the ocean but I am ever mindful of my fragile nature in so small a boat upon the vast sea. A raven passes me as if he found a tunnel in the wind. Such ease of flight while I labor against the wind. He croaks loudly as he passed over my head. I wonder what he is trying to say to me. Actually the ravens have been talking a lot to me on this trip. A raven perched in a tree over my head and called and squawked as I packed and launched from Craig. Also each morning I have been awakened by a raven's raucous voice in the wee hours. What is he saying? "You're such a fool to challenge the sea alone in your little boat. Look at the great ships this sea has pulled down to her depths. Who are you to be here now?" Or "Friend in the waves below come and see my world through my eyes. Let me open your eyes each day to the wonders of the sea and let us both dance upon the wind" Alas only the Raven knows. The waves build and roll, each conspiring to knock me backward and away from these enchanted Islands. Their persistence only strengthens my resolve. I will fulfill my dreams to paddle among those enchanted isles. Still I am a long way from any solid land so the thought of turning back remains a wise option. I look ahead to the shores of Esquibel and Anguilla Islands the largest Islands in the Maurelles. Somewhere between them Launch Pass angles in and becomes the gateway into the islands. Between the waves bouncing my boat around and an equally bouncing compass needle I have only a vague idea where the Pass opens. I study the shore to make sure I am getting closer. I notice a few details I had not only moments ago. A jagged rock, a knarled group of trees, a fishing buoy perched on a log. These growing details are an old trick I use to tell if I am making progress. If details begin to emerge then I am making progress. As the details increase so does the wind. Like the white teeth of a shark, white caps roll past making me feel like a helpless fish being swallowed by so great a predator. I dig in a little harder. I have a lot left but then again so does the wind. I study the shore looking for the Pass. Then I notice a group of trees sitting in front of another. That must be the Pass angling in. I also spot calm water resting along the shore. I aim first for this wind block to gather my strength and rest a bit. I glide into the wind block and my muscles sigh in unison. I lean back and my lungs grab a full breath. I reach for my water bottle drink as if I have just crossed a long hot desert. Then a wonderful euphoria flows through me. I am here. Here where my dreams have paddled long before me. Where my hopes have ventured. Where my spirit has wandered while work and time has held my body away. The Maurelle Island Wilderness. I slowly become aware that I am being watched. I look to my right and into the peering eyes of a sea otter. He stands in the sea, his powerful tail levitating his body above the surface. Slowly he settles back in and rolls over on his back and moves gracefully into Launch Pass. I follow admiring his grace and power. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis come to mind. Like Lucy stumbling through the wardrobe closet into Narnia, I am entering into a magical land. Here I am miles off shore out upon the vast sea and find myself going through an intimate narrow passage filled with murellets, seals, otter and kelp. Wow speaking of kelp, the inlet is filled with vast tangles of Macrocystis Kelp. I am glad I am in a kayak and not a power boat worrying about my prop. Eagles perch in the trees overhead and a raven squawks and the trees sway in the wind. Slowly the pass widens and the mystical world of the Maurelles begins to unfold before my eyes. Like diamond thrown before the sun a myriad of craggy rocks, bushy islets and tree topped islands spread out into the sea. Each rocky shore bears the scars of birth and death amid the sea. Craggy rocks which have long withstood the onslaught of the wind and waves will in time lose the battle and dissolve into the sea. Barnacles cling mightily to the rocks almost daring the sea to try and remove them. So small against the sea yet so tenacious Yet in this time between mighty beginnings and subtle ends grasses, alder and spruce and cedar have gained a foot hold and flourish even amid the weather's wrath. The trees of the closer islands stand out deep green against the blue sky and sparkling sea. Distant islands rise up out of the mid day haze. So much to see and so much to explore. I glance down at my map and try to name the distant Islands. Wood, the Twins, Hendida, Sonora. Names that invite the adventurous at heart. I have five days, is it enough? A large island lies at the end of the Pass. Judging by its shape on the map the name is fitting; Turtle. Hopefully I can find shelter on this Island. It is approximately in the center of the Maurelles and a perfect jumping off place to explore their wonders and mysteries. I head for a gap between islands and get a quick lesson in paddling the Maurelles. There will be few straight paths out here. The Macrocyctis Kelp lays scattered in thick blankets in the more narrow confines. I weave my path around the larger tangles and push across the smaller patches. Not an easy task as the floating leaves of the kelp grab at the hull of my kayak. I feel like I am in an old B horror movie where innocent looking vines sudden wrap themselves around its victims and slowly pull them down into the earth. While clearing one rather sticky path I hear a strange clack, clack ahead. I look to see the sea otter off to my right laying on his back and pounding a shell on a rock that rests on his stomach. Dinner ready in a minute! Mr. Tumnus. The name appears in my head and I laugh. For those who have read the chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, Mr. Tumnus is a faun, who is the first of the magical creatures that Lucy meets when she first stumbles into the magical land of Narnia. Eventually he will become her friend showing her the mysteries of Narnia. Sure enough I look beyond him to see a stone and sand beach strewed with old logs and various kelp lines created by the tides. I paddle over to explore. Like an unexpected gift the site begin to unveil its gifts. The deep cove will be good for landing and departing in low tide. The stones smoothed by the waves bare only a few boat eating barnacles. Drift wood for the evening fires lays every where. I step up on a layer of storm tossed logs and at the tree line I discover piles of stones heaped up by the winter storms. I envision the powerful waves that tossed and piled these stones like a child piling up sand. Entering the forest I discover a remarkable flat clear piece of real estate nestled in the trees. I know immediately this is where I will call home for the next several days. I walk down to my boat and begin to unload. I look back out at Mr. Tumnus and thank him for guiding me to this camp site. He waves back, I swear. After dinner I sit watching the world of the Maurelles pass by. Mr. Tumnus continues to fish gliding back and forth with his various feasts. A small humpback whale cruises through in hurry to get somewhere. He heads to the pass I took to get here and I wonder if the kelp will let him through. I do not see him return so I presume he found a way. Another Sea Otter joins Mr. Tumnus, a female with a pup curled up on her stomach. She rolls out from under the pup and dives deep her tail flipping about the water as she goes vertical. The poor pup screams again and again. Living his life carried along on her belly he panics as she leaves to probe the sea bed for food. Mom rises from the depths and the pup quickly scrambles to her side and waddles up onto her belly. He lets out a couple more whines then calms as mom shares her food. Over and over this scene plays out. Eventually she pulls the well fed pup onto her belly and sails off somewhere to a kelp bed they call home. Taking advantage of the masses of drift wood I build a warm dancing fire. As I stare into the dancing coals somewhere out upon the water a Loon calls. Its mysterious and wonderful voice touches my soul. The Loons voice upon the sea brings enchantment to an already mystical world. I settle into my new home and dream of the magic tomorrow will bring. Native legend says that the Raven calls forth the dawn. This morning as I am awaken by the call of the raven I sense that it is I for whom the raven calls. "Rise sleeper morning has broken, the day has begun. Abandon the adventures of your sleeping dreams and live them out upon the wild sea." Cloudy skies greet me. Radio says tomorrow it will blow 25 so I must make the most of this day since tomorrow I may get stuck in camp. Mr. Tumnus greets me out in the cove smacking a shell on a rock on his belly. Clack, clack, clack and breakfast served! Whoosh! Behind him a young humpback sounds and quickly disappears below the water. I do not see him again but my adrenaline begins to pump through my veins. This is truly a special place. I weave through kelp and islets. My muscles protest yesterdays wind and this morning's coolness. Rounding the tip of Turtle Island I once again get a good look at the world of the Maurelles. My eyes are drawn beyond the islands to the great sea beyond. Immense and powerful the waters of the Gulf of Alaska brood wild and unpredictable. Boats large and small are easy prey out here. Jeff, a friend who fishes out here on a 50 foot seine boat told me a story of the sea going from glass calm to five foot angry swells in just a matter of minutes and how he fought to find safe anchorage while his young crew lost their cookies. I feel a humbling fear. I must weigh all decisions with caution, I must temper enthusiasm. A friend who flew small planes once told me there are old pilots and there are bold pilots but there are no old bold pilots. Yes I love adventure, and I have gained skills by pushing myself to the limit. Yet the sea could care less if I make a mistake, if I push myself too far. Excitement must be balanced with judgment. Adventure tempered by common sense. Time will tell if I become an old kayaker. Right now my toughest decision is where to go first! Like a kid on Christmas morning I can't decide which present to open first! I head West toward Lambda Island for no other reason then it sits alone. As I approach I see more and more Sea Otters swimming in and out of the kelp tangles. I watch as mothers grab their cute little ones as I paddle by and watch me intently seeing if I mean well or harm to their babies. "Cute". I laugh at my absurd description of Otter pups. In reality these little guys are tough as nails. My gosh look where they are raised. Out amid the play ground of the wild storms of the sea. In the midst of the wind and waves of the capricious Pacific ocean. They are born and live in water so cold it would zap my strength in a matter of minutes. With my hundreds of dollars worth of camping gear I would be lucky to survive the night out hear. "Cute"? How about tough, resilient, the fittest of the fittest! Rugged storm lashed rocks rise out of the sea before me. Lambda rocks. A place so wild and forsaken that only the gulls, cormorants and barnacles can call it home. I pull in behind to take a break from the wind and swells. Relentless the current tries to shove me back out into the swells. I pull around to test the seas. The outside waters play by different rules. Even the smallest of waves seems to hold more power and might. As I round Lambda I am exposed to the face of miles upon miles of the sea. The currents waves and swells boils together like a witches brew. Throw in an evil concoction of clapotis waves and I am tossed to and fro upon the sea. My boat has an uncertain twitchy feel underneath me. Years ago when I lived in Sitka I trained and played in these conditions. However in recent years I have paddle the more protected waters of the Inside Passage. I have lost part of my edge on seas such as these. Over the next few days I must regain this edge if I am to fully enjoy this trip. I concentrate and paddle more aggressively. I force my hips to loosen up to flow with the waves rather than fight them. I focus on my balance and watch everything happening around me. I watch for the rouge wave that would catch me unawares. I keep a close look out for colliding waves that would fling me air borne. I notice the Otters frolic here as easily as they do in calm coves. In my own soul I slowly sense joy rising above fear, skill replacing nerves. I point my bow towards the Twins. Once away from Lambda the seas cease their battle with the rocks begin to calm. As explosion of white catches my eye. Off to the West I watch as a Humpback Whale rises up out of the sea and crashes gloriously back down. Why do you leap from your waters oh great leviathan why do you seek the sky? An internal itch or just to see the land where long ago your ancestors walked. For joy or for no other reason than just to leap? I enter a long narrow passage between the Twins. I ease up as I enter and escape the grasp of the wind and the waves. Whomp! A small boomer crashes just in front of me! A strong remind to stay alert out here in midst of this wild country. I paddle along this narrow passage which seems to gently embrace me after the open sea had tossed me about. I zig and zag amid the kelp. As I paddle by one clump I notice a community of snails living upon the leaves. I also spot a number of small crabs scurrying about the stems and leaves. Small fish hide amid the tangles. A whole world lives and dies in each labyrinth of kelp. Movement! A blob of bodies' splash into the sea! Seals! I had interrupted their noon siesta. Arrugh! I hate doing that! I try to have the least impact upon these creatures who struggle for survival out here. Still despite my best intent I become the bad guy. Now dozens of deep dark eyes stare at me as I paddle by. A glance over my shoulder produces a flurry of "oh no he's looking at me"spashes. Oh well. Emerging from between the Twins I set my course for Wood Island a couple miles away. I close in on some Marbled Murellets bobbing on the water. I love these birds because they have been my constant companion on many a kayak sojourn. Beyond them I spot another group of birds which at first I think are more Murrelets yet the bodies are too fat and the bills too thick. Rhinoceros Auklets! Since Rhinos tend to live out on the outer Islands they are a rare treat to see. I paddle past a floating flock of a couple dozen. They watch me nervously as don't suppose they have seen many kayakers. Three heavily treed islands form the Wood Islands. I choose the South passage. Between the swells rushing in and the knarls of kelp the passage proves to be an adventure in its own right. A raven squawks as I pass between the jagged Islands. "This is wild country, my country. I live wild and free upon the wind. You may venture here when the weather is fair but you have no place out here when the winter storms rage and the winds howl in their glory" I look upon on the rocks and see huge logs tossed up by storms like a child tossing a stick. To the raven I say, "This is a wild land and your strength and determination to live out here impresses me. And you are right the season is short when I may venture here and winter will see me safe only if I am far away from this rugged land" Emerging from between the islands the swells waves and wind once again grasp my kayak and spirit. Slowly I am feeling more comfortable more confident amid the chaos. Tide rips kick about as I move on out to Epsilon Island. Small and craggy Epsilon stands bare to the sea. No tree or shrub has been able to take hold. I presume that the winter swells throw too much salt water on the rock to allow plants to survive. Covered in Cormorants, Gulls and a lone Eagle perch on the rock to peer into the sea looking for their next scalely meal. The raven flies over my head and sets out upon the sea. My eyes follow his flight and far out beyond I see Timbered Island. Rising high out of the rouge sea, this West most Island in the Maurelles is a tempting target. Yet four miles of open wild sea lie between me and its rocky shore. The raven cries out "follow me to adventure" and flies on undaunted but I remain in place. The wind is picking up and so is the sea. "not today, but perhaps another. I am no fool upon the sea." I turn to retreat back through the North Passage of Woods Islands. Only then do I notice the steep cliffs that compose the seaware face of Wood Islands. The swells clash and crash against the cliffs knowing confidently that one day they will pound these rocks into the sand of the sea. I time the swells heading into the North Passage. The last thing I want to do is to get surfed into a kelp bed. My nose buried into one of these green tangled masses could result in being stuck for a long time. Emerging out of the Wood Islands I head Northeast towards Hendida Island. Like the Wicked Witch of the West stirring her brew the wind continues to stir up the seas. Now however I am feeling my old seas reflexes coming back and I race across the waves toward my goal. A large seine boat heading Northwest pounds through the waves. The surprised captain blows his horn and shakes his head at me as if to say what are you doing out here? My heart and spirit beat fast with its own answer. Waves christen white the shore and rocks of Hendida Islands. Boomers break over a slew of submerged rocks as I cautiously approach. I cut between the islands desperate for a pee break. I am surprised by a small sandy peaceful looking beach filling a slight notch between two of the Islands. As I land I notice clusters sea shells. Clam shells about an inch across are colored in ripples of red and brown. I collect many to take home to my wife. She tolerates my long times away from home provided I bring her interesting shells. I enjoy this miniature paradise and pause for lunch. I wonder how this little beach came to be out here in the middle of nowhere. Two ravens carry on a loud conversation in the trees above me. Perhaps they argue over territory or discuss where they should scavenge next. Either way each seems emphatic in their point of view. Perhaps they are discussing who this strange intruder in their territory. Onward! While heading out of the Hendidas once again I interrupt a colony of basking seals. One particularly curious seal swims back and forth in front of me. Finally he slowly sinks below the water as if inviting me to move past and let him and his family be. Just past Hendidas I discover a large colony of Sea Otter fishing amid a cluster of Bull Horn Kelp. They spot me and the fun begins. Many rise up out of the kelp and give me a long hard look. Others cruise back and forth never taking their eyes off me. A few pups start to swim toward me for a better look and their moms quickly grab them and scurry them away. One or two continues to eat not wanting to lose a meal to this strange intruder. Time to head home. I turn Southeast and quarter the wind and waves. Several Humpback Whales spout here and there feeding on the riches of krill below. As I near Turtle Island I run near the cliffs to enjoy the power of the sea clashing with the rocks. The swells pound with an ancient rhythm while the rocks echo the roar back out unto the sea. The symphony of life played out upon the sea. In the midst of the chaos of swells rock and clapotis waves I spot an Otter in a tiny cove at the base of the cliff. He lays on his back feasting on an urchin. His little cove is only twice his length in width and depth. As swells pound around him and his body rises and falls quickly on the waves he calmly delights in his food. So calm amid the chaos. Such peacefulness amid mayhem. Oh to be so at home upon the sea! My driftwood fire fanned by the wind from the sea glows hot. NOAA radio calls for 25 plus knots winds arriving before the Raven calls forth the dawn. The clouds gather heavy. Mr. Tumnus fishes in the cove. Do you know a storm is coming? Do you care? Finally I am chased into my tent by the first drops of rain. Stormy seas shall greet me tomorrow I know and the wind will place havoc upon the sea. I slowly awake to no sound. No raven, no waves, no wind just silence. I pop my head out of the tent and gaze upon a fog shrouded motionless world. Where is the wind and waves where falls the rain? Why do they still slumber? The morning's mystery lies as deep as the fog. I eat and pack for the day waiting for the winds but the fog lays still and motionless. Somewhere in the distance loon calls to its mate. His beautiful and mysterious voice makes the fog all the more enchanting. Mr. Tumnus and family float quietly upon the still waters. The Raven call from a distant island. "Come forth and celebrate this wonderful day. I rejoice in this morning born with peaceful blessings. Slowly the fog dissipates as I roll through the first couple miles. Islands emerge softly blue sky grows deeper. Today I head South along the jagged shores of Esquibel Island. I pass Esquibel Inlet. An enticing narrow finger of water reaching deep into the island. The falling tide however bars my entry. I will patiently wait another day. I pass peaceful Otter and tangled kelp, bobbing Murellets and Cormorants on my way to San Lorenzo Islands, the southern most in the Maurelles. The fog disappears quickly and the world becomes bathed in rich warm sunlight. My pace is slow as I keep stopping to lean back and allow the sunlight to embrace me. Eventually on this timeless day I cruise into a passage named Hole In The Wall. It has long served as a shelter from the storm for the local fishing fleet. Sure enough about half way down see four small boats anchored up in a small notch in the shore line. A fisherman waves to me as I paddle by, the smile on his face tells me he is also enjoying the sun. I pass a number of seals sunning on the rock, thankfully they let me pass without hitting the panic button. Toward the end of the passage I see a disturbance in the water. Something flails in the water. A Sea Lion maybe? No I finally realize it is an Eagle in the water. Sometimes Eagles catch a large salmon and cannot lift it from the water. Once its talons lock onto its prey the eagle cannot release for a little bit. This eagle is now in the water desperately trying to flap to shore. I face a dilemma, do I rescue this eagle and risk getting ripped by its sharp beak or do I sit back and watch it drown. I move closer wrestling with this decision. The eagle makes its way to shore but it is a desperate struggle. Thankfully as I close in the eagle makes it to shore and drags it's well earned lunch up the bank. With a tired flurry he shakes the water off his wings gives and exhausted screech and begins his meal. I pray a blessing for his well earned feast. Once through the passage I turn Northwest along the outside of San Lorenzo. Its rugged cliffs and coast line stand above the peaceful seas. The water abounds with needle fish, a favorite of salmon. Coho salmon are jumping all around. Suddenly a coho leaps beside my boat and only a quick flick of my wrist keeps it from hitting my paddle blade. Many seine boats work the waters, their captains and crews fishing for a living and living to fish. Soon I am as hot as I have ever paddled in Alaska. The temperature climbs into the 80's. I am wearing my hydro skin top which I cannot safety take off while on the water. Plus I need to remember that the water temperature is only in the high 50's and if I flip that temperature will quickly drain my strength. I grab my boat sponge and bath my head and neck in cool water. I also plunge my hands into the sea to try and radiate off some of the heat. I am not complaining, days such as these are too rare in this land. I explore Sonora Island wishing I could be here somehow safely during the wild days of the winter winds and waves. I watch a few whales breach in the distance hoping they will not come as close as the leaping salmon do. This day seems surreal. It was supposed to be rainy and windy but instead the sun sparkles off the still waters. Whale sound and leap in the sea. Otters dine on urchin, rhinos and murellets bobble in the sea. Eagles pluck salmon from the sea. Seals gaze curiously and loons sing their mysterious songs upon the water. I feel as if I have paddled through the look glass or the wardrobe closet into an enchanted magical land. I sing. Songs of worship and praise, songs of joy and hope. For long dark winter hours I have dreamed of this trip, hoping for a day such as this. These are the days I paddle the storms and winds to behold. I've paid my dues to get here and will enjoy every moment. By dinner time a sea fog rolls in from the West. I watch as the islands disappear in the mist. The temperature begins to fall and I start putting my clothes back on. I light a drift wood fire and watch Mr. Tumnus and his family lazily drifts by with the tide. The stars come out one by one. Finally the rising tide reaches my fire and the rock sizzle in protest. Alas the sea wins and the last coals drown in a steamy breath. I wander up to the tent wondering how long this good weather will last. I head North into the morning fog. It lifts quickly and another sunny cloudless day reigns. In the distance I see a massive set of cliffs. I know it without even looking at the map, Coronation Island. Poised at the tip of Kuiu Island it looms as one of my dream destinations. Remote and wild it calls to my soul. Maybe next year if I am lucky. For the moment though I have one goal. Fresh water. The Maurelle Islands have no safe source of fresh water so I need to paddle over to a bigger island where tall mountains give birth to life giving streams. The map indicates that Heceta Island may have some small streams. Many smaller islands draw my attention as I head toward Heceta. Some of the smallest prove the most interesting and beautiful. Swells from a distant storm begin to roll in from the West. A slight breeze offers some relief from the noon day sun. Several seine boats cast their nets into the sea. I watch as one dumps hundreds of salmon on to her deck. The squirming mass refuses to accept their fate and the crew scrambles to get them into the holding tanks. Arriving at Heceta I discover the swells really like this beach. They pound the stone beach with a vengeance creating a dumping beach with the waves breaking quickly only a few feet from shore. Tricky. I count the wave sets. Four big swells followed by three small. I creep in slowly and keep the count of the waves. After the last big one passes I paddle quickly in. I ride the back of a wave and let it strand me high up on the beach. The next wave catches me before I can exit the boat and both my boots fill full of water and sand. On a cold day I might have complained but as hot as it is I know they will dry quickly. I check the creek and it is bone dry. I search and find another stream but it is just as dry. Finally I find a small spring up under a log where an old stream once flowed. A half cup at a time I managed to fill my many water bottles, enough to get me through several hot days. I watch the surf and realize that getting out of here could be more interesting then coming in. My boat weighed down with precious water I pull it as close to the waters edge as waves will allow. I hop in but before I can attach my spray skirt rouge wave leaps onto the beach and blesses me with a lap full of water. Oh well. Back at camp I lay out my wet gear on the hot rocks and watch it slowly steam dry in the hot sun. As night falls I once again build my driftwood fire. Winter storms have heaped so much wood up on this beach I think I have a months worth of fire woods. As I sit meditating on the day a mink runs across a large log and disappears in a cluster of brush. He quickly emerges quickly and scurries down to the waters edge to see what morsels the falling tide has gifted him. Another "cute" tough survivor. The morning sun brightens my tent. Unbelievable! Mr. Tumnus joins me for breakfast. Me with my oat meal and he with his sea urchin. I have actually eaten sea urchins, believe me I prefer oatmeal. I launch from my beautiful home and head out of the cove. A group of sea otters meet me and begin hissing at me. Unusual. Wait a minute! I stare at the otters and it slowly dawns on me. These aren't sea otters they're river otters! In utter surprise I stare as the six river otters follow their leader over to the rocks and quickly scurry amid the rocks an out of sight. I laugh in amazement at the wonders of this special place. I head out to the Twins again. My destination though lies far beyond. Timbered Island. Any island perched that far out in the sea has to hold special treasurers and wonders. Still it lays far out there. Nine miles from camp and four mile beyond the nearest island. The wind remains light and the sky shines clear. If this holds the trip should go well but if the weather turns it might become a different story. I stop in between the Twin Islands for a stretch and pee break. Wood island will be a difficult place to land and I imagine Timbered will be next to impossible. I cut through the North Pass of Wood Islands, As I clear the pass I look to my left and am startled by the silhouette I see in the rock formation. A woman, her head covered in a wool shawl bows in prayer. Prayer for those who go out to sea that they may return? Prayers for those who never returned? The wind begins to pick up and swells roll in from the West. I push on saying my own prayers. Four miles away sits Timbered Islands. Shaped like a small pyramid it sits alone in the sea. I pass flocks of pigeon guillemots and rhinos on the water. The otters thin out as the waters grow deeper. Even the kelp thins out allowing me to finally be able to paddle in a straight line. Looking around I notice two black shapes on the water to my right. Orcas! They slice through the sea in search of salmon. They rise and fall in the sea exhaling explosively and breathing deep. A grunting to my left turns my head. A half dozen young sea lions bunch together and rise up out of the sea to check me out. Bobbing about they remind me of anxious trick or treaters daring one another to ring the door bell at the haunted house. They want to check me out closer but I stare at them and they move away. At least I hope they stay away. Sea lions have worried me more than any other creature I have encountered on all my trips, even bears. They are curious, territorial and sometimes aggressive, a dangerous combination. The sea lions follow me for a while then get distracted and leave. I breathe a sigh of relief. The wind picks us a little more and the swells increase. I paddle through a tide rip running North. I paddle steady trying to conserve my energy. As I near Timbered I encounter more Auklets. My guess is they live out on Timbered Islands. I watch as an Auklet flies straight at me three feet above the water. Surly he sees me, surly he is going to turn. Wings a blur he flies head on at me. Oh no! "Turn!" The startled bird flurries its wings and flies straight up! I look up to see a black body, white belly and red webbed feet. A tufted puffin! The puffin circles me twice checking me out. Then I notice a couple other puffins flying about. I should not be surprised. Puffins are a burrowing bird that prefers off shore islands where land predators such as mink do not prowl. Timbered Island surves as a perfect home for these unique birds. I wish I could stop and watch but the seas are getting rougher as I approach the islands. Deep ocean currents are hitting this underwater mountain and rise up to create havoc. I am thirsty but I dare not take my hands off the paddle to grab a drink. The salt on my mustache doesn't help. Finally I come into the wind shadow of the island. I am free from the wind but the rips still keep me on edge. I gulp half my water bottle and inhale a power bar. Timbered Island sits beautiful in its ruggedness. Granite rugged gray as it rises out of the sea. Encircled with a pearl necklace of pounding waves. Yet as it climbs into the world of air and wind, green shrubs and grass cling tenaciously to rock enduring storms that would bring fear to the human heart. Hearty spruce, whose seeds have miraculously found their way to this distant rock, crown the top of the Island giving it its name. .Shallow soil provides a foot hold for plant roots and burrows where Puffins can give birth and raise their young. The rips toss me about, I must keep moving. I start around the Island which I am now discovering to be surrounded by a group of exposed rocks clinging tightly to the main island. I begin to head toward the North end of the Island when I spot a small group of sea lion hauled up on the rocks. I paddle past trying to go unnoticed. No luck! One of the sea lions rises up when he sees me and bellows the alarm. Soon all the sea lions stand up on their front flippers and sway back and forth growling and burping at me. I see more movement ahead and another group of sea lions has already begun their growling menacing dance. As I turn to along the West face of the Island the tide rips and swells hit full force. Clapotis wave rebound off the rocks and fly back out into these colliding violently with the incoming swells. Now I encounter a huge pod of sea lion on the rock and they are not happy with my intrusion. This rumble of lions roar and growl angrily! They sway their bodied and show their sizeable canine teeth. I have encountered many sea lion pods in the past but this is the most aggressive display I have ever seen! Several animals plunge into the water including a couple huge bulls. More sea lions perch of the rocks ahead ready to protest my approach. To make things crazier the rips swells and clapotis waves grow more intense! I lean forward and paddle aggressively. I feel like I am on "Mr. Toad's wild ride". I wonder do sea lions eat toads? I am on the edge. Part of me says "this is great", while the other screams "what the hell am I doing out here?" A couple big swells roll in and pass under me, I wait to feel them thrash into the rocks and rebound back at me. I look left and right calculating to see if the incoming swells will meet the clapotis underneath me. Two Puffins whiz past my ear. Watch out guys! More big bulls hit and water as I near the Southern point. I see a small cut between the rocks and I make for it. Finally I reach the calm behind the Island. Funny when I was here just moments ago it didn't seem so calm. Up ahead two more bulls lay lazy in the sun. I am taken back by their massive size, as big as I have ever seen in Alaskan waters. "Lay there guys, don't get up for me." Thankfully they choose basking in the sun over harassing me. I head back across the four miles of open water to Epsilon Island. The wind blows brisk now and white caps accompany me home. Occasionally a wave grabs me and throws me side ways. A quick brace then forward again. Controlled chaos. A mile from Epsilon I startle as I watch the sea suddenly boil in front of me. Then I see two black objects slowly surface. What the? A humpback whale ever so slowly rises vertically in the water his mouth open straining the krill from the water. This is the first time I have seen whales fish so slowly and deliberately. The whale tilts forward and breathes deep before plunging below. He surfaces coming in my direction. I pound my deck with my fist. I mean to say "I am here don't hit me" hopefully the whale doesn't hear "come and get it!" Finally the whale moves on leaving me exhausted with joy. A cold sea fog moves in during the evening. I however sit by my fire enjoying the heat and crackle of the fire. Islands distant and near disappear into the white mist. Even Mr. Tumnus fades into the world of white. Snuggled up in my sleeping bag against the cold body tired from the adrenaline pumping day I quickly pass from this world to the world of fantasy and dreams. I paddle in world of woven with fog. The water lays still their calm only broken by the bow of my boat. At first I am utterly alone. Then slowly out of the fog a figure emerges. At first I think it to be a killer whale, dorsal fin high above the water. Yet as it grows closer I realize I am watching a lone kayaker.In a kayak of skin on wood and bone an old man padles dressed in seal skin to ware off the water. His face is old, weathered by long journies into the winds of the sea. Yet joy remains etched in his face as he remembers the stories of great hunts and sheer moments of survival upon the sea. I know not his name but I know who he is. The first to put skin onto bone and wood and set out upon the sea. The Ancient One, the first kayaker. "Why? " I ask "Food" he answers with a smile "Food for my people. For ages we watched the seal rise and fall upon the waves while our bellies rumbled empty. Then one night I dreamed I was a killer whale chasing and feeding upon the seal, bringing meat home for my wife and children and the elders of my tribe. I awoke and stretched skin across whale and walrus bone and sat within. I took another piece of wood and shaped it to hold in my hands. Then I journeyed out upon the sea with my spear and fed my people with the rich meat and fat of the seal. " Others join him in the fog. Generations of his people who built their own boats and followed him out in the midst of wind and waves. Each generation perfected the design yet all trace their ancestry back to the first boat. Slowly one by one they disappear into the fog leaving me alone with the Ancient One. I think of all my journeys upon the sea and all their joy and wonder. All the creatures I have encountered in my kayak within the waves. I remember all the sea has taught me and who I have become on these long journies. "Thank you" I say. He smiles and with timeles grace disappears into the fog. Fog still covers the world of the Maurelles as the morning comes to life. Mr. Tumnus enjoys his breakfast as I do mine. Today becomes waiting day. I wait for the tide to flood Esquibel Inlet. Anxious to get out on the water I take the long route toward the inlet circling my home island before heading to the inlet. Tomorrow I will begin my journey home so I check out a passage way to see if the kelp at low tide will let me pass. Barely. To my surprise I see two Sitka Black Tail Deer standing in the channel on a small rock. With hardly more than a couple of mouths full of grass to eat the deer still waded out to this small rock for breakfast. Rounding Turtle Island I am greeted by a stout Southwest wind and rolling waves. Surfs up! I aim for the inlet and surf away. I am so used to pushing against the wind and waves with a boat loaded down with camping gear that flying along at surf speed is exhilarating. Soon however I see rocks ahead I have to hit the breaks. The inlet proves rocky going in and narrows quickly. After the granite gray harshness of the outer islands the lush green shores of goose tongue and beach asparagus provide a welcome respite. It is hard to imagine so peaceful a setting way out among these wild islands. The inlet squeezes to just a few feet wide. Thankfully I am rolling with the tide. If I am patient for beginning of the ebb then I can ride the current back out to the sea. As quickly as the inlet narrowed it opens up again. A flock of canada geese honk on the left shore startled by my presence in their quiet world. Yet I am not the only intruder into their world. A small skiff approaches from deep in the inlet. Curious the three people motor over to me. We exchange pleasantries. They are from a yacht anchored nearby. One of the women point to the back of my boat and asks, "What is that white stuff behind you?" It takes me a minute but I realize she is talking about my white paddle float that I keep on my deck. I explained how I use it for self rescue. One of the men comments, "We have kayaks on the boat perhaps we should have some of those". It sometimes amazes me that our species survives. The end of the inlet protected from the waves and ravages of the sea lies peaceful in with the soft shades of beach grasses. I pull out of my kayak and relax. Be it rain or wind or just plain bad luck some trips fail to meet our expectations. As I soak in the beauty and wonder of this inlet I say a prayer of thanks for a trip that has far exceeded my dreams. I know every thing can change by night fall but for now my soul lays at quiet peace as do the water around me. I toss the last log on the fire and rest my back against a large log. One by one the stars come out as the moon hidesfor a season. Coals pop and sizzle. All creatures great and small fall into silence.The raven sleeps in a tall spruce while the loon dozes upon the water. Mr. Tumnus lies in quiet slumber wrapped up in a strand of kelp. The world rests at peace as does my soul. A silent fog covers the morning. The fog lifts as I pack my gear into the boat. I am disappointed. I looked forward to the fog testing my navigation skills. Soon the sun begins to bake the beach and stream begins to rise from the rocks. I pull out of the cove and sit a while. I look one last time out upon the outer Islands. The placid sea surrounds them in tranquil blue. Cohos leap from the water and a humpback breaches into the sea. A blue heron passes overhead. "Well Mr. Tumnus I say goodbye to you and your magical world. Thanks for the journey" I turn East and meander between small islands and twist through kelp beds to find the opening for Launch Passage. Shore and trees narrow in and and for the next mile I savor this last embrace of the Maurelles. Nearing the end of the passage I prepare to leave behind this magical and mystical kingdom. Behind me a raven laughs and I look over my shoulder to see a sea otter rise up out of the sea. Alas the raven and Mr. Tumnus say goodbye as I return through the wardrobe closet and back into my world. *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
Thanks, Rev. I have been missing your stories. Wish I could have come along for this one. Craig Jungers Royal City, WA On 9/5/07, Bob Carter <revkayak_at_aptalaska.net> wrote: > > For your reading or deleting pleasure > > Bob Carter > > > > Into Narnia > > Maurelle Island Wilderness > > Prince of Wales Island > > Alaska *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
Bob, Thanks for sharing your adventure with us. As always it was a delight to share the thoughts of a great mind with the clarity that solitude affords. I will read your narrative several times, and savor every word each time. All the best, Patrick Martin > Date: Wed, 5 Sep 2007 21:04:33 -0800 > From: "Bob Carter" <revkayak_at_aptalaska.net> > Subject: [Paddlewise] Into Narnia (long post) > > For your reading or deleting pleasure > > Bob Carter > > > > Into Narnia > > Maurelle Island Wilderness > > Prince of Wales Island > > Alaska *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
G'Day Bob, Thanks for that long post. Best long post I've read in a long time. I've been off the water since All Fools Day and looking forward to getting back into it in a month's time. Meanwhile your fantastic story was like the sight of an oasis. All the best, PeterO *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author. Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************
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