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     The following story is the sole property of Al & Louie Strano 
     and should not be copied or distributed without their permission. 
     Anyone interested in publishing the following is welcomed to
     contact us via our email link at the top. 
                                                      @August 26, 1998
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It probably started when we bought the "Pea Pod," officially known as an Old Towne Otter kayak. It's only 9 1/2 feet long and is green prompting a passer by to tell Louie she looked like she was in a pea pod. It took over two years to finally make the decision to buy it. We both wanted a small simple water craft we could transport with us on our camping trips to take advantage of all the lakes and streams we camped by. The obstacle was that Al wanted a canoe and Louie a kayak, and we both didn't want the other. Louie did not like the paddle for a canoe and not being in control if she sat in front; all of Al's experiences in a kayak involved getting wet. Finally, in 1997, we agreed to get something. A $1200 plastic two person kayak with holes in it that required wet suits was not the answer; the $200 used Coleman canoe seemed very heavy. At last we found the "Pea Pod" -- small, one sits IN it not ON it, and only $400 including paddle and PFD. So we became kayakers. We could use it only one person at a time; however, for rivers this was ideal. One of us would put in, then paddle to a predetermined spot downstream, the other would shuttle with the van and then swap places or pickup kayak and paddler. We really loved it! Our summer and autumn saw us padding all over the US.

In late '97 we decided to plan a return trip to Alaska to see the islands of the Inside Passage which we had missed on our 1991 travels. Kayaking was definitely a possibility and Louie started emailing, writing, and 800-calling for info. Our first idea was to buy a folding two person kayak and take it with us. At $2000-$3000 this was a bit expensive, but then we considered the nightmare of transporting it plus the additional stowage costs on the ferries to get us to our destination -- this idea became unwieldy. Stuck for weeks with little information coming in as to how we could enjoy the wilds of Alaska on our terms, we were elated to receive a brochure in the mail from Glacier Bay Sea Kayaks. Not only do they work with the National Park Service to allow people to explore the park and rent kayaks to do that, they arranged transport to/from/within the park and we could paddle to our hearts' content on our own for as many days as we wished. They even gave us suggestions on how WE could accomplish a trip in the wilderness as well as an extensive checklist. Our dream was taking shape. We would rent a double kayak, arrange a drop-off in Muir Inlet and paddle up and back the East Arm returning to park headquarters on our own. Eight days of backcountry camping and kayaking -- WOW!

By return mail we received a list of the required gear. This was enough to give the faint-hearted second thoughts. We needed SO MUCH STUFF and most of it had to be wool. We were going in summer (early June), but the list looked like preparations for a polar expedition! After many visits to pawn shops, thrift stores, liquidation centers and bank tellers we were ready. We even bought a cart to haul all our gear, which also included 25 pounds of dehydrated food and 100 granola bars. How it would all fit in one kayak with two of us was a mystery.

Leaving our van in Port Hardy, B.C. we took ferries for the next five days visiting Prince Rupert, B.C., the cities and islands along the Alaska Marine Highway, then on to Juneau, Alaska. From there we took a water bus to Bartlett Cove in Glacier Bay National Park. We were immediately immersed in wildlife seeing a black bear and two porcupines right outside the Ranger Station. Next we received our instructions and pertinent equipment at the NPS contact station: 2 bear canisters, backcountry permits, nautical chart and viewing a 20 minute video informing us where to keep our food, etc., in order to avoid bear encounters. After several frustrating attempts to load our food into the bear canisters, we exchanged one for a larger oil drum style, which gave us only just enough food storage capacity and left us even more in doubt as to how all this stuff was going to fit into the kayak.

At 5 p.m. Kara from Glacier Bay Sea Kayaks appeared at the kayak shack to issue us paddles, spray skirts, rain gear, kayak and give a brief demo. She answered a few questions and asked for money. Then she pointed us in the direction of the "Spirit of Adventure" only a few yards away and told us to paddle over while she walked out onto the dock to meet us. This was our introduction to the kayak and how difficult it was going to be to carry it and load it on and off the NPS boat that would drop us off in the morning. After Kara helped us get kayak 11 on the deck of The Spirit along with several other kayaks also going out in the morning, she simply told us to report at 7:15 a.m. with all our gear.

[DAY 1] We were up before 06:00 breaking camp to get organized before enjoying breakfast. Employing a borrowed NPS wheel barrow we moved all our gear, each parcel double bagged in plastic, to the dock. Five other kayakers were set to join us on The Spirit, two photographers each paddling a double kayak and three young people from Texas who would each paddle his own single. As all the gear was loaded it became evident to us that if WE had trouble loading OUR stuff, the others would never make it. The Texans had nine bear cans and innumerable dry sacks.

We kayakers were in the minority on The Spirit because the boat's more lucrative business was wildlife tours and today there were about 50 "white-legged tourists" sharing the trip. Al coined this term for people who tour from plane to bus to boat to bus and so forth never escaping the protection of the tour operators. As we headed north into Glacier Bay the whole group shared viewing puffins, a sea lion colony and a sea otter. Each of the kayaking groups had separate itineraries. The two photographers wished to be dropped in the West Arm. Our three companions, the Texans, planned five days kayaking in Muir Inlet and then being transported to the West Arm for another five days. We wished to stay in Muir Inlet and then return to Bartlett Cove under our own power via the Beardslee Islands. A little after 10:00 a.m. Al, Louie and the three Texans were dropped off at Mt. Wright, a steep rocky beach at the southend of Muir Inlet. All of the above pitched in to chaingang the kayaks and the mass of supplies onto the beach. If someone had been here waiting to be picked-up, we would then have had to help load them onto the ship, but today we were lucky; we had enough work ahead of us.

No sooner had the last piece of gear hit the beach than The Spirit was pulling away. The spectators returned to looking for other forms of entertainment as we turned to stare at our pile and the kayak. Now what? Never having done this before, the challenge of getting loaded sensibly and safely, a serious matter, was something we were going to learn by doing. We managed as well as others must, it actually all fit! The inside of the kayak was lined with every one of our belongings leaving just enough space for us to slip in and out. But before we jumped in, we would have to get the craft into the bay. The tide, a constant concern, was going out. This meant that the distance from the kayak to the water kept expanding. Two people cannot lift a loaded 17 ft. double kayak. When we finished packing, the Texans helped us lug the kayak down the beach. Then the realization hit us -- bang! -- it was time to launch. Louie climbed in, then fastened her spray skirt in place. We also attached lines to the paddles to minimize the possibility of loss. Al slid into the back, Louie having declined the offer to operate the rudder. Sea kayaks, spray skirts, rudders were all new to us; the Pea Pod is so much simpler. However, the Pea Pod would not do for this adventure. Al struggled with his spray skirt and then -- we pushed off. Now Al released the rudder line, but the rudder refused to drop into place. The rudder would be a problem child the entire trip. It is almost impossible to steer an ocean double kayak without a rudder. Due to the limitation of squirming around with the spray skirt firmly attached, Al reached back with his paddle and knocked the rudder into place, a trick he would learn to master. It is important to raise the rudder when approaching shore, especially when backing in, meaning that the rudder is already up when one launches. Careful study showed that a round d-ring clip that held the rudder pin in place had to be facing forward and down in order for the rudder cable to ramp over it and not get caught, but there was no way to insure it would stay in this position. It had to be checked before each launch five or six times a day. Obviously, one of these times we'd forget and it would be in the wrong position.

We bid pleasant journey to our three acquaintances and started paddling north toward McBride Glacier, the only tidewater glacier in the East Arm. We rounded a point and heard pebbles rolling down the slope of a steep cliff. High above us a group of mountain goats were making their way across the rock face. We watched through our binoculars for several minutes. What a marvelous feeling to see wildlife from the kayak only minutes from setting out.

Southeast Alaska is known as wet, cold, often a gloomy place. All during our planning the possibility of a soggy eight days lurked in the back of our minds, especially when buying long underwear and waterproofing our bags. But not today! The sky was clear, the sun shown down on glistening blue water and the exquisite snow-capped mountains of the Fairweather Range, an appropriate name for once.

We figured the glacier was twenty miles away, a two day paddle. Our estimate was two days up, two days back to Mt. Wright and three easy days south to Bartlett Cove with one day in reserve for bad weather. As we reached the mouth of Adams Inlet we passed three kayakers going the other way, one had a huge crab trap mounted on the rear of his kayak (and we thought we had a lot of stuff!). He said he had caught only small crabs. Shortly thereafter we were passed by a humpback whale. Hearing the big whoosh as he surfaced and then seeing his fluke (tail) raised in the air as he sounded (dove) was a sight we would see often, but never tire of. Soon another whale passed and we watched as they both turned right to enter the inlet joined by several harbor dolphins; the feeding must be good at the mouth of the inlet.

We had been paddling for an hour. Checking the chart it seemed a short distance to George Point -- a good place to break for lunch. We paddled and paddled. The point drew no closer. Al's shoulders cramped, our arms grew weary, and still we seemed no closer. Whales, dolphins, and harbor seals frolicked in the sunshine as we labored. Finally nearing the limit of our sanity and strength we reached a beach just short of the point. It had taken two and a half hours. Upon checking the chart we calculated we'd covered five miles. This was absurd. Thoughts of how to abort our mission or get picked up at Mt. Wright crept into our minds.

After lunch and some fruit plus an hour's rest we set off again. Hooray! The rudder fell into place. Rounding the point we decided to abandon our plan of sticking close to shore in order to save some time. Setting our sights on the next point we paddled straight for it. The clear air and vivid visibility made everything seem close. Two hours later we drug ourselves upon a rocky beach. We calculated we had covered three more miles, then just shook our heads. This beach would do for a break, but not for tent camping. However, always mindful of the bears, we heeded Park Service advice to prepare dinner, eat and clean up somewhere away from camp. Now was the time. Dinner was Al's special instant mashed potatoes with powdered cheese and some hunks of pepperoni, the only meat we would have. During both of our breaks the three Texans passed us while we sat on the beach. They weren't doing much better than we were.

Back in the kayak we rounded the point discovering that the three other kayakers were apparently searching for a water source. Yes, one must find his own water out here, not having the capacity to carry all that is required. Even "Baby Huey," our large unwieldy four gallon bladder was not enough for eight days. The team of three left the shore and managed to stay in the lead, maybe they were afraid we would find a choice campsite before they would. Following them around another abrupt outcrop we encountered sheer cliffs -- no campsite there. When a low grassy crowned beach appeared, we headed in; our paddling day was finished.

On the beach we found animal tracks and moose droppings, but no bear. We set up camp on the grassy spot, which required carrying all of our gear thirty or forty yards to insure we were above the high tide line. One does not want to wake up afloat or find his kayak and equipment floating away, or not find it at all! The unloading took five round trips apiece plus one for the kayak. We began to worry more about the tide while on the shore than in the kayak. As Al trudged down the beach to cache the bear canisters high above the shore in some rocks, Louie grabbed the chart and stared. Why was it so difficult to gauge our progress? Would we ever see the glacier? In this respect our spirits were pretty low; however, conditions had been perfect and we had seen many more marine mammals than expected, plus loads of bald eagles!

Yet, our main objective was the glacier. If Louie's calculations were correct, it was still 12 to 15 miles to go. Could we manage to paddle that hard everyday? Louie turned to Al and said "That island," pointing to a lump of land in mid-channel, "isn't on the chart." Al studied the island and then the chart. "It has to be. Nothing that big could not be." Louie concurred and continued to stare at the chart. "There's an island way up here on the chart." Al looked. "It's got to be that island. We're not down there, we're up here!" "But we both agreed we're here," Louie returned to pointing at the debated original guess. "But that island has to be this one," Al countered. "Look, if this point is really that one, and that one is really this one -- we're here -- which means we covered 18 miles and my shoulders agree." Neither one of us wanted to raise false expectations. Well before the sun would set the bugs drove us inside the tent to where we put our mixed emotions out of mind while sleeping like logs.

[DAY 2] The morning dawned overcast, hiding just the very tops of the mountains we had admired the day before. Doubts as to our correct location still dogged us as we continued north. Rounding a point we spotted the tents and kayaks of our three traveling companions. The cove seemed to lead to a freshwater outlet, thus we followed it to the mouth of a small stream where we employed our water filter for the first time. Meanwhile, Al prepared the morning repast of coffee and muffins (the last of our fresh food). The sandy beach was covered with moose and bear tracks, so we kept a wary eye as we conducted our chores.

Paddling back past the others' campsite we could see no sign of activity. Much like our experiences on our 89-91 bike trip* the younger set like to sleep in forgetting that the wind does also. Back in the bay we estimated that McBride glacier was around a large headland in the distance probably another half day's paddling. If it wasn't, we would really be disappointed; maybe have to turn back. After an hour we took a short break, attempting to fortify each other's spirits.
[(*)see "The Farther You Travel the Closer You Get to Yourself" -- The Bike Trip]

Back in the kayak we were just settling into our rhythm and passing a small promitory when a gigantic wall of deep blue ice appeared on our right! It was the glacier! It was McBride! It was only eight o'clock on the second day and we were there! All of our concerns and fears washed away in a heartbeat. Our morale soared to new heights. Life is good.

The tide had just turned to go out, though. This meant approaching the glacier upstream by kayak was a very bad idea. Beaching our craft we walked to within a respectable distance to listen and watch chunks of ice split off from the face and form icebergs which joined in a column that was now marching past us beginning their short journey down the bay before melting within five miles of their birth. Our choice of whether to proceed farther north up the bay was made for us. The bergs had formed a moving wall as they crossed the bay before us from west to east turning south well out in the channel. It would be foolhardy to try and paddle between them. The cavalcade would last another six hours. We split our one hour visit between viewing the glacier and moving the kayak. Just because a two to three foot change in tide would occur during that hour didn't mean that we would be moving the kayak just two or three feet. It was a constant job to monitor the craft that's too heavy to lift, so one of us (usually Al) would anchor it, trudge over to the glacier in his rubber boots (the appropriate paddling footwear), take a minute to watch the seals, birds, icebergs and glacier, turnaround and trudge back to move the kayak, which would almost be totally high and dry by then. We were told repeatedly NOT to drag the kayak. The rocks are covered with barnacles and the shell of the kayak would not last long, especially fully loaded, if it were to be scoured by dragging.

As we traveled south very thrilled by the glacier and much relieved about our schedule we were treated to seals, moms and pups, floating along on the bergs. Most of them evacuated as we overtook them, but one brave soul remained in place looking like a plump bathing beauty on her private little beach.

Camp that night was on a beach against a sheer rock wall. The sun had come out and we enjoyed a tranquil night having covered another 15 miles. This night, like the first one, we put Baby Huey, our water container, on top of the overturned kayak, not wanting to lay it on any sharp objects.

Buzzzz, buzzzz, buzzzzzz... What's that? A hummingbird! Golly, up here in the wilderness near a glacier! These hearty souls gave us a boost every afternoon thereafter.

[DAY 3] When Louie arose in the morning, Baby Huey was gone. She started to search for it with some strange ideas as to what had happened to it when all of a sudden she heard clattering and splashing noises. A cow moose with calf had been coming up the closed off end of the beach. When it saw Louie it bolted into the bay in an attempt to swim around us. Louie turned to try to get back away from the startled pair. About then Al emerged from the tent to see the moose far out in the bay. His elation turned to remorse when he learned how they got there. Gosh, we knew moose liked water, but to swim in saltwater that plummeted to double-digit fathoms as soon as it left the beach was remarkable.

There was nothing we could do and we needed to continue our hunt for Baby Huey and retrieve our food before the tide came in. Louie found the water bladder in some rocks a few yards down the beach. Dew must have aided its slide off the kayak and the tumble down the beach into the sea was a feasible possibility. Fortunately it was only covered in seaweed and not punctured. Our drama with the moose was not over, though. The mother wanted to keep swimming, but the calf couldn't keep up. While Al was fetching the bear canisters from the rocky shelf at the end of the beach the calf made up its own mind to head straight for shore, which was straight at Al. The cow was frantic and caught up quickly. Al retreated up the beach to sit with Louie calmly by the kayak. The mother moose was not convinced; she and the calf stood in the water ready to plunge back in. The calf was shivering and looked very pathetic. Our hearts hurt, but we were unable to help. The nervous mother kept licking the calf and growling at us (yes, moose growl). This went on for some time; the moose were not going to make the first move. Because of the rock wall behind us, we couldn't move much either. "Maybe if we act normal, they'll relax," Al suggested. So, we started to break camp. It seemed to be working, but as Al was walking in a parallel path towards the rear of the moose, she decided she'd had enough and, giving a loud grunt, charged! Al, who had not taken his eyes off her, followed the park ranger's instructions exactly -- he ran as fast as he could to scramble up the rocks. The moose stopped; with a grunt it returned to the calf. Al stayed on the rock. Louie was in the tent, so only heard the commotion. She emerged to see the moose glaring at her as well. Finally, step by step the displeased pair moved up the beach, then later trotted off with cautious glances back at us. We were relieved to see the calf had stopped shivering, but had we given the calf a false sense that it had done the right thing by coming to shore? What if we had been wolves? Ninety percent of moose calves die.

Paddling south we found a small inlet at the mouth of a rocky swift stream just big enough into which we nudged the kayak. A good source for fresh water and solitude for breakfast.

At Adams Inlet the marine show resumed: whales, dolphins, seals, birds. We beached on the south shore to enjoy the show. Due to sheer cliffs on this part of the coast we had difficulty finding a campsite, finally settling on a flat rocky place, using our extra clothing to pad the bottom of the tent. It had been another sunny day, so we bathed in a nearby stream letting the sun rapidly dry our tanning bodies. We hadn't seen anyone else the entire day.

[DAY 4] Knowing that the beach at the dropoff/pickup point was only a short paddle down the coast we made sure we were well past it by 9:30 am so that The Spirit would not think we wanted a ride. In reality we were miles past that point just north of Puffin Island when we at last found a suitable beach on which to take a break. We knew The Spirit would be around this area between 9:00 and 10:00, that's why we were waiting for it to leave. We wanted the cove to ourselves. Sure enough The Spirit appeared, circled Puffin Island and was headed up the bay. "Don't wave," admonished Al, "We don't want the crew to think we're in trouble." No sooner had he said this that the ship made a hard right coming directly at us. "Oh, MANNNN! What are they doing?" As the catamaran bore down on us we looked down the beach to see two young bull moose picking their way right for us. "Not again!" We weren't scared, just concerned that now we were in the moose's way. It was our obligation to get out of their path. We headed for the kayak and Louie jumped in ready to hit the water without worrying about spray skirts and such stuff. But The Spirit got its laugh on us because we couldn't have timed a worse exit, the bow wave hit us before Al could climb in and we were forced sideways, bounced in towards the beach and almost capsized. Al was still in the water trying to point the kayak into the waves while his boots filled with water. He scampered aboard and we quickly paddled away from the moose and The Spirit. The entertainment value for the passengers must have been worth the trouble the ship put us through....

Now that The Spirit was under way north we continued our tour of Sandy Cove. The passage marked on the chart no longer existed forcing us to retrace our progress and proceed around the cove. We were learning about glacial rebound, that is, land springing up after undoing the compaction from the glacial load.

Before the end of the day we needed to reach Wolf Creek, the end of the "bear exclusion zone" -- the bears weren't excluded, just humans were not allowed to camp there in order to allow the bears undisturbed breeding habitat.

On our way to Wolf Creek we entered a small cove just as three whales did; they surfaced right in front of us. Attempting to follow the "no approach" rule, we stopped paddling to allow the whales clear passage (as if our puny little kayak would bother them). A power boat approached from the opposite direction and pulled up right on top of the whales. Louie had a fit! She was going to report these rule breakers!! That is, until she read the NPS logo on the boat hull.... We later learned that it was a research team; they don't have to obey their own rules. They waved at us to indicate their appreciation of our conduct. One of the whales made a strange bugling foghorn sound when it blew. We guessed it must have had a deformed blowhole, certainly a unique sound.

The weather had grown cloudy and blustery with a heavy chop in the bay. Our camp was near a stream providing plenty of fresh water and the breeze kept the bugs away. Louie said she saw two guys in red suits out in the middle of the rough seas -- turned out to be a buoy....

[DAY 5] A real Glacier Bay day, heavy overcast all day, but no four-letter-word that begins with r___ (we learned from our bike trip that the mention of this word was an invocation). We paddled a lot without seeing a great deal of wildlife and tried to sing songs to pass the time. We have forgotten every song we've ever known -- pretty bad. After lunch at a creek bed we looked for a campsite. The chart showed two nice coves up the beach and then a high tide passage between the one-time island and a smaller one. We followed the shore line and found what we thought was a cove but disagreed as to whether it was the one we wanted or not. For once we felt the distance was too short. It looked like a nice place out of the wind. So, after watching a bull moose grazing in the distance, then moving off, we decided to make camp. It was early in the day, but being ahead of schedule with the tide going out, it made for an appreciably shorter distance to carry the gear and the kayak.

After setting up we decided to take a walk to establish which of the coves we had found. The answer was neither. We were at a high tide passage, actually camped on a small island. At the time we thought that was really cool.

Al moved down the beach to make dinner. He was unaware of Louie's animal sightings across the high tide passage on the other shore. When he called her to eat he asked, "Did you see any wildlife?" and was amazed when she said, "Yes, three bears." At first Al was disappointed not to have seen the bears. Then, as we ate, first one and then the other two crossed a sand bar that had been exposed by the low tide. They all disappeared into the scrub. Uh oh. We are on a very small island with three bears. The tide would come in during the night and probably persuade the bears to stay the night. In the middle of the wilderness we were faced with a population explosion. "Well, Goldilocks, we had better leave. We just ate all the porridge," kidded Al, one of his rare bad jokes. So, after craftily avoiding carrying our gear up a long beach, we had to carry it a greater distance back to the shore. And then, we would have to lug it back up onto a new spot. We paddled back the way we had come to the other side figuring the bears had gone one way, so we'll go the other.

[DAY 6] When we awoke the next morning we looked forward to an easy exit off a rare sand beach. We did exit, quickly. The beach was a haven for sand fleas, which had little respect for bug repellent. We sprayed and rolled on chemicals as fast as we could, but the thousands of little buggers stayed a distracting inch or two from our faces the whole time. Once on the water the sand fleas followed. They were hitching on our clothing. Al removed his hat and beat on Louie trying to drive them from her clothes. However, there was no one to perform the reciprocal duty for him. We paddled by the passage where we had tried to camp the day before, but could not enter at such a low tide. Around the island we went. The way beyond was a series of small islands or islets not navigable at low tide. We stopped at a promising entrance (no fleas??) for breakfast. While waiting for the tide to come in, some whales rolled and slapped the water with their flippers. Not long after breakfast we worked our way through a maze of islets until we were in clearer waters. We were now in the Beardslees, a group of islands that as recently as 150 years ago were under an ice cap. The land is now going through iso-something-or-other, i.e., glacial rebound. Chart problems abound due to this phenomena.

After another game of "which island is which?" and more whale sightings we took a break on "Borneo," a name Louie made up because of its shape. As we listened and watched the distant whales a large shape appeared at the end of the beach, which transformed into a bear heading our way. Back into the kayak we sprang, with Al singing "Bear Necessities" to let the bear know we meant no harm. Where's the logic in that? (Have you ever heard Al sing?) From the kayak we safely observed the bear having a mussel lunch, scooping the shelled creatures off the beach and crunching away. He had no use for us.

We had been told that Link Island was a good place to camp, but after circling it we had not located a good spot. So, we traveled to Kidney Island, which someone more important than Louie named for its shape. There we found a great spot with a freshwater stream and protection from the wind.

[DAY 7] Our plan for the morning was to cruise past Spider and Eider Islands, restricted nesting sites. We were not allowed to land and needed to stay 100 yards away. We happily complied with these regulations by paddling past Spider where we saw a bear chasing ducks. It was interesting to see the bear raise up on its hind legs whenever he would scare up a duck. The ducks probably didn't enjoy it and the duck nesting season was not too successful -- the bear was not obeying the rules. As we watched the bear, a whale surfaced right behind us with a big blow, that attention-grabbing whooshing sound. Farther ahead we could hear barking noises coming from Eider Island. What kind of birds are these? Seals. An island named after a duck is home to a breeding seal colony? There were hundreds of moms and pups bobbing around in pairs. One large skull-like head followed by a smaller version. And then there were loud slapping noises behind the kayak. It was the bull seals telling us to keep moving. The barrage of plunging seals, sounding as if we were being shelled, made sure we did. The whale was still nearby and the bear was still chasing ducks. Which way were we supposed to look? It was sensory overload!

Next stop: Secret Bay. It wasn't a challenge to find it (were we getting the hang of reading the chart?). Following the eider ducks to a passage not yet covered by the rising tide we broke for lunch. The kayak was still in the water when a thrashing crackling noise announced the arrival of a (you guessed it!) bear. Before we had time to react, the bear turned away from us ambling along the beach the other direction. While waiting for the tide to reach maximum Louie explored the potential opening between Young Island and the entrance to Bartlett Cove. It looked possible. The tide was almost in, yet the creek bed was just mud. Not even an inch of water appeared to allow us to tow the kayak the 50 feet to open water. We could have tried portaging, but it just wasn't to be. "We came to paddle, let's go around," said Al. Louie concurred. So we paddled back out of Secret Cove in order to round the island group rather than cut through it.

The sun came out after a two day absence with seals and whales putting on an evening performance easily viewed from our campsite on Young Island. Our last night in the wilderness -- the silence, the majesty of the snow-capped mountains, the late sunset...we were witnessing all the treasures. As we put our heads down for the night we thought we were just three miles from Bartlett Cove, just an easy paddle in the morning. We had made it.

[DAY 8] Our final morning dawned overcast with the feel of r___ in the air. The time to end our adventure had come. We would miss the closeness of nature, but we were ready for hot water and soft chairs.

We paddled out of the cove and headed toward the end of Young Island prepared to round the point toward Bartlett Cove. We knew the tide was against us and had noticed the markings that said "rip-tide" on the chart, but assumed they were farther out. Paddling against the tide had not hindered us thus far and the early morning waters were normally calm. The first indication of trouble was seeing the water swirl and twist in front of us. Al steered toward shore, but the tide was too low to avoid all the rocks and shoals close in. A little farther out was a kelp bed. "Kelp is our friend," Louie said quoting something she had read. It is supposed to break the tidal flow. Sure. But why does it get tangled in your paddle and prevent you from putting the blade into the water? Well, the way one should break through a rip-tide is to cross it perpendicularly, so we agreed to go farther out since we couldn't go farther in. Of course, there the tide was at full flood. After several minutes of frantic paddling we changed course again to dive into the shelter behind a point. We needed the rest to get ready to fight our way around the point. Once around it seemed easier. However, as soon as we passed the creek we had tried to navigate the day before, the situation worsened. In fact, it was worse than before. Attempts to duck back toward shore were met with such force that we went backwards and for a time Al stubbornly refused to give up our position while staring at a rock that remained off our port side for fifteen minutes. Louie stopped paddling. "What's wrong?" Al asked the rhetorical question. Louie just answered, "Nothing" out of total frustration. And as we started slipping backwards Louie finally took up the paddle again. A whale surfaced not far behind us. It was going to race us to Bartlett Cove; it would definitely win. Since we couldn't paddle forever and not make progress, we had to surrender some of the distance we had fought for in order to reach shore. We crossed the path of the submerged whale. Though the uncomfortable feeling that it may come up as we did bothered Louie, we both had our immediate concern of getting to shore more on our minds. (The whale surfaced far enough away for comfort.)

Once we reached shallow water Al instructed Louie to get on the beach and walk around the last point while he towed the kayak. He valiantly trudged and dodged boulders as the lightened kayak glided over the submerged rocks. After he had cleared most of the turbulent water he gained confidence to carry on. He turned toward Louie to inform her he was going to carry on, but then misplaced his footing and fell over face first into the water. The journey was all but over and one of us had fallen in. Al waded ashore and changed his socks. Fortunately, every other garment was nylon and shed almost all the water from the brief encounter. Al mentioned, "By the way, the water IS cold."

We climbed back in and headed out. The rudder refused to go down. No surprise that the ensuing whack from Al's paddle helped release some of the pent up emotions. Rounding the point we spied the dock by the Ranger's Station a mile or so away. The tide was with us, but being a cove it was not going to give us back the same surge we had resisted. The whale surfaced and waved it's fluke as if to say farewell. It had taken us three hours to cover that last 3 mile stretch.

But now, who cares? We made it! Our elation wiped away any misgivings. We arrived at 11:00 am; it began to rain at 11:30. We had spent eight days in one of the wettest places in North America and hadn't felt a drop. Let it rain.

All toll, we saw eight bears, seven moose, one sea otter, four puffins, hundreds of seals, more than 20 whales up close and at least as many dolphins. Eagles, eiders, guillemots, ducks, hummingbirds, and two porcupines were also a joy to watch. Now for a hot shower!

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EPILOGUE
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The whole adventure was so exhilarating that we elected to omit a few negatives. As with all adventures, there was luck involved and maybe a few unwise moments. Since this story might inspire others to take a similar trip, we feel it our duty to point out the following.

We were quite disappointed with the service given by our outfitter, Glacier Bay Sea Kayaks. Kara expected us to ask the questions, but we are so novice we didn't know what to ask. Al told me he wanted to have a spare paddle, but Kara didn't even mention it when we got all our stuff together, so the omission could have been a serious problem. One paddle is not enough to get that kayak through miles of water with no one around to help. Even when we remembered to ask for one, only an answering machine was at the other end of the phone. Another outfitter, Sea Otter, provides a spare paddle, as well as other nice extras: stuff sacks, map holder, boots.... Al had asked if there were any areas where we had to worry about the currents. His answer was "no, just watch the wind and tide combinations, it might get choppy." In contradiction to this, when we had completed our trip and were returning our equipment to the kayak shack, we encountered a couple preparing to leave. As we attempted to warn them about the conditions we had just experienced, they halted our tongues by saying they were already informed not to attempt that dangerous route, rather to wait for high tide and sneak through the passage behind the cove. What does one say. Our problems with the chart were mainly inexperience and the vastness of Glacier Bay. There are no man-made reference points and everything just seems so much closer than it truly is. Not knowing how to measure the scale except for the latitude markings 10 miles apart, the detail could have been better for the area we covered (the $14.00 chart covers all of Glacier Bay), and some help from our outfitter would have been nice. The age of the chart was also a problem: fourth edition, March 6, 1993. As we discovered, glacial rebound made a lot of the Beardslee Islands connected, or at least the passages were open for only brief periods.

But once again, it was thrilling! If you are interested -- GO FOR IT!
                                                                                                       Just be aware of the risks.