Red Bluff Bay to Takatz Bay via Warm Springs

The morning dawned to another perfectly clear and delightful weather pattern. We retrieved the anchor and set our course for Warm Springs.

Checking out the “Cascades” as we leave Red Bluff Bay

Saying goodbye again to Sonata

Warm Springs is a bit of a destination stop. The little community of Baranof is built next to a large lake-fed waterfall. It was once a source of hydroelectric power, but apparently that is no longer in service. There are a few homes and a boardwalk that extends to the actual warm springs and then on to Lake Baranof.

Waterfall, the homes and the docks at Warm Springs

The docks at Warm Springs

The boardwalk makes for a pleasant half mile walk to the lake. The warm springs are about half that distance. There is a bit of a steep portion of mountain goat climbing just off the boardwalk to get to the springs. However, it is well traveled,and Karen reports that it is worth the exertion, if for nothing else than to see the views.

If you don’t want to bathe in the natural sulfur springs, there is a public bath house just at the head of the docks where the warm springs’ water is piped in. There are three private large tubs with great views of the bay.

A beautiful view from the Warm Springs bath house

Warm Springs is popular, so finding space on either side of the 200’ float can sometimes be a challenge. The other variable is the seiner fleet, who often tie up awaiting the opening of their fishery. Today that was the case. The dock was full of rafted fishing boats (with more at anchor) with the exception of one small sail boat and two Nordhavns rafted together.

There was also a mix of fishing vessels and pleasure boats anchored in the harbor so we set off to find a more secluded place to drop the hook and then dinghy back to the dock. We went into the southern arm, but found the anchorage a bit too deep and close to the shore for our comfort, so we traversed over to Schooner Cove and found a very pleasing one-boat anchorage.

Southern Arm headwaters

We took the dinghy over to the dock, and began to explore Warm Springs. The boardwalk is well maintained and makes the walk as easy as can be. It is uphill about 400 feet over the course of the trail, but it’s very pleasant with lots of great views of the falls and the headwaters of the lake as you go. When you arrive at the lake, you’ll find a beautiful small rocky beach and perfectly clear water. It’s shallow enough for some good water romping in the shallows and relatively warm owing to its southern exposure and shallow depth.

The boardwalk at Warm Springs is well maintained

Follow the signs to the natural Warm Springs

Karen returns from checking out the Warm Springs

The lake that feeds to waterfall is pristine and well worth the walk

The shallows at the end of the trail are inviting

Karen poses along the trial to the lake

A couple of cabins with movable zip codes. Nothing is permanent in Alaska.

When we returned to the docks, the two Nordhavns had left as well as one of the seiners, whose spot was taken over by a sailboat. We walked the docks, did some snooping, and then headed back to Arctic Star. Despite liking the anchorage, we thought that Takatz Bay, about 4 miles north, might be a more interesting place to overnight, so we weighed anchor and headed off.

The Warm Springs docks as viewed from the boardwalk

Another souvenir from Warm Springs

Leaving the bay, we passed a pocket cruiser inbound to Warm Springs. I can only image the impact 80 to 100 people would be to the boardwalk and the springs. We’re glad we’re leaving…and that our experience was without the crowds.

Takatz Bay was described by Lee of Sonata as another Alpine-like and protected bay. We passed a couple of seiners anchored along the north shore of the outer bay. We headed to the inner bay at Takatz. There we found Sonata, two seiners , a sailboat (Bear Hunter) and a blue hulled Coastal Passagemaker called Blue C’s. It took awhile to find a spot among all these boats. Finally, we dropped the anchor in 60 feet of water. I almost got us in the exact middle of all the boats, but when we would swing in a certain direction, we would be within 75 yards of the seiner, Lady Jane. Not perfect, but safe.

The wind was still up, looping around the bay at about 10-15 knots. All the boats would spin on their rode and seldom would there be a majority pointing in the same direction. When I was out taking pictures from the deck of Arctic Star, I heard some gunshots. A check with the binoculars revealed that three crewmen from one the seiners were on shore and shooting who knows what. I think it was simply target practice to relieve the boredom as they waited for their fishery to open. After they left the “shooting range beach”, they motored over to a small islet that dominates the bay. Two jumped off and climbed to the top of the small islet while the remaining crewmember positioned his dinghy for a series of photos. Then the drama began. The Honda outboard would not restart. After much pulling on the starter cord, the paddles came out and were put in the water. He tried to make good his course back to the islet to rescue his companions, but the wind and ebbing current made his efforts difficult. Karen watched, glued to her binoculars. I teased her that this was “Alaskan Reality TV”, a replacement for the myriad of reality TV shows she enjoys at home.

“Take my picture”

Eventually the crewmembers were retrieved from the islet and they then rowed back to their boat.

Now we changed the channel on “Alaskan Reality TV. On another islet (that revealed itself to be attached to the shore at low tide), we spotted two dinghies tied to some trees. However, we never saw any people. The hours passed and still no sight of anyone. The dinghies were high and dry…but where were their owners?

Look closely and you'll see the dinghy, high and dry between the islets

I deduced that both must be from the nearby sailboat. The dinghy with the motor would hang from the davit at the stern and the other one, which only had oars, would be stowed on the cabin deck. As we went to bed, the dinghies remained where they were, dried on a rocky ledge. We had a running voice-over commentary of what might be going on that islet. We’ll have to wait for the next episode of Alaskan Reality TV to find out if our theories were right.

Shrimp stir-fry, with fresh caught Alaskan prawns rounded out the day

Red Bluff Bay

The sun is in control today. The skies are clear. It’s amazing. Our plan is to wait for high tide and paddle the kayaks up the river as far as we can.

Karen woke quite early, and was up at 5:30am to see what was going on in the anchorage. About 6am, a tender from the Maple Leaf sailboat was filled with 10 people and headed to shore, disappearing into a swale for some sort of hike. Karen was quite happy to be warmly ensconced in our boat, sipping on coffee and waiting for me to awake.  Not long after the tender returned to the sailboat, both it and the wooden boat Discovery headed out to find greener pastures. Given that the small sailboat “Summer Wind II” had also departed early, we had this glorious anchorage to ourselves for a while.

About 9:45am, Karen spotted a grizzly on shore, our first-ever sighting. The bear was quite camoflauged against the reddish low tide shores, but we were able to watch for a while before he disappeared at a trot up that same swale the passengers from Maple Leaf had walked a few hours earlier! And then around the corner came…Sonata!

While we waited for the flood to come in, Karen set up camp on the foredeck with her Nook and consumed a couple of more books. She is up to 33 books read so far on this trip. Only the horseflies drove her back inside.

As the tide rose, so did the winds. We launched the kayaks with 15 knots of winds quartering from our sterns with light chop in the bay. We made good courses that kept the waves quartered on the bow. This was a non-direct course, but a much better paddle. Once near the opposite shore, the relative wind and waves were astern and we paddled the entrance to the river.

The entrance to the river at the head at Red Bluff Bay

We made our way up the river, riding the flood tide for about a third the distance. Then we found the outflow from the river creating turbulence where it met the tide, so we started to paddle harder. We managed to get within 50 yards of the navigable end, when the current got the better of us. No matter our stroke, we could do no better than hold our position.

After a quick 180 degree course reversal, we joined up and rode the current out. As we approached the end of the river and the entrance to the bay, we ran into headwinds again and more chop. It was a hard paddle back to Arctic Star. We’ll chalk this up as our daily exercise session.

Our friends on Sonata arrive in Red Bluff Bay

The rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing, looking for more bear (unsuccessfully), watching other boats come in (like the Nordic Tug Kirkwall), doing fuel calculations to determine our route options and generally enjoying the perfect weather conditions.

Dinner of Beef Bolognese over penne

Gut Bay to Red Bluff Bay

Mickie’s Winter Basin in Gut Bay proved to be a spectacular place. The morning started with the usual overcast, but the sun soon started to part the clouds. After seeing me running all over the decks of Arctic Star with my camera, Lee from Sonata came over in his tender and offered to drive me around for some better angles. That’s the kind of people you meet while cruising.

It was low tide, so we went over to the entrance to take a look and snap a few images for future reference. I managed to take a couple of nice photos of Sonata and Arctic Star. I wanted to get a really nice “portrait” of Sonata for Lee that I could send him in thanks.

Sonata sits in front of the large waterfall

Sonata looks majestic against the backdrop of granite and waterfalls

Sometimes Arctic Star looks big, and other times, as here she looks small

Arctic Star in Margie's Winter Basin

It doesn't get much more spectacular than this

As we wrapped up our photo mission, Lee suggested that we go out and check his prawn traps in the large Gut Bay around the corner. We swung by Arctic Star and let Karen know our plans and also picked up Dave from Sonata, and off we went. As I mentioned, it was just coming up off of low tide so we only had just enough water for Lee’s tender to make it though with only one bump at the bow. Going though at low tide gave us all a great mental picture of the narrow passage that would come in handy later when we departed at high tide.

Checking in with Karen to let her know “the boys” are off for a little adventure

Leaving the entrance to Mickie's Winter Basin near low tide give you a good look at the contours of the passage

I’ve been out with a few people before to tend to prawn and crab pots, but Lee definitely has it figured out. The wide beam of the boat combined with the electric retrieval wench made easy work of hauling in 300 foot of line with two prawn pots at the bitter end. I took notes of the technique for using floating line with weights to prevent the line snagging on rocks. All in all, a great learning experience, and by-the-by, the pots did contain a nice harvest of prawns. Apparently, while I was gone having fun, Karen cleaned the boat and opened it up to get some fresh air inside after all the rain. Wonder who had more fun?

Lee mans the hoist to retrieve the prawn pots

Transferring the catch to the awaiting bucket

Success!

Sonata's tender is a great way to get around

Waiting for high tide that was predicted for around 1 pm, I continued to take pictures of this beautiful place as the clouds and light danced across the mountains, trees and water.

Critters have been a little scarce in this bay. The beach is perfect for bear, but all that we have seen on the beach is a Sitka Black Tail deer. I did manage to spot a Bald Eagle landing on the shore line and then eating a catch from earlier. Not very pretty, but interesting to watch.

A Bald Eagle working on a tasty morsel for and earlier catch

Karen polishes off another book on her Nook

As high tide approached, we lifted the anchor, along with a lot of sticky mud and some kelp. It’s a pain to clean off, but makes for a secure night’s sleep. Of course, as we departed, the wind started to funnel in through the narrow opening, making for some additional fun.

Blue skies make an appearance at Mickie's Winter Basin

Good holding in Mickie's Winter Basin

The narrow entrance to Mickie’s Winter Basin was traversed by following the course we used coming in. The area that was nothing but large rocks and rapids when I saw it this morning at low tide in Lee’s tender was now smooth with a moderate outflow. We passed over those same large boulders that were now just below the surface.

 

Leaving Mickie's Winter Basin at high tide makes for a safe passage

Our destination was not far. We decided to anchor at the head of the adjacent large bay at the mouth of the river. Into the kayaks we went to enjoy a paddle up the river. From the end of the open portion of the river we made it another 100 yards into a large 1 foot deep “pond”. This area will dry quickly when the tide goes out only leaving the narrow stream, but for now it was tranquil. However, I didn’t want to dally long, as I had no intention of portaging my kayak if the tide got too low. We reversed course and rode the river’s flow into the receding tidal flow.

Karen paddling around the shallow “pond”

Karen playing around the head of the river. The area is a rocky falls when the tide recedes.

Gut Bay is large but beautiful

Karen is dwarfed by the surrounding mountains

These boulders sit “on the beach” at low water

When we returned to Arctic Star, we had been joined in the anchorage by our friends on Sonata. A quick pass by in the kayaks and fond farewells were exchanged until we meet again.

Sonata and Arctic Star anchored in Gut Bay

Saying goodbye to Lee on Sonata

There is an interesting phenomenon that we witnessed in this area where fresh water runs into a body of salt water. The fresh water sits on top at a depth of six feet or so. At the top of saltwater layer there forms a layer of algae. When you look into the water you think you are seeing the bottom, but it’s only this thin layer of green life. I’ve never seen this before, but we have now observed it a couple of times on the last few days.

With the kayaks on board, we headed north to Red Bluff Bay. This is a similar alpine feeling location to Gut Bay, but one that is much more popular. There are a couple of spectacular waterfalls in the entrance channel and the drying beaches are known to be frequented by brown bear.

The entrance to Red Bluff Bay

There was only one sailboat in the anchorage when we arrived. Karen was predicting there would be six boats, so we felt lucky. Around 7:30 pm a classic motor vessel Discovery anchored. They look as if they do “adventure cruising” in this 1930’s-ish motor yacht. The passengers were all on deck enjoying the views as the vessel approached and anchored. But as soon as the anchor was set, all hands disappeared to the main salon, presumably for dinner.

Another hour or two passed when we spotted a two masted steel sailing vessel. The Maple Leaf out of Canada made her appearance. The passengers on this ship where also out on deck. However they were all bundled up as if they had spent most of the day on deck in the elements. Such is the differences between a sailing and a motor vessel. She also anchored and we enjoyed watching the alpenglow over the mountains before heading off to bed.

Another beautiful sunset in Red Bluff Bay

Gut Bay

Up at 7 am today because low tide, a minus 1.5 foot low tide, was at 8am and I wanted to take a look. Our calculations predicted it would be no issue, but when you’re a boat length away from shore, you always want to double check.

A hearty egg scramble breakfast for a cold and wet day

Today was forecast to be rainy. The morning lived up to that prediction. It started raining sometime last night and was making a show this morning. The rain was constant and at times it was blowing 30 degrees to the horizon.

The rain, the low clouds, the cold chill; it was a day to stay in and read, read, write work on photos and relax. About 11 am, Karen spotted a boat approaching, a pleasure boat, the first we had seen in many a day. It approached slowly, looking as if it’s intentions might be to traverse the narrows back to Mickie’s Winter Basin. She was a metal boat, we guess about 60 feet in length and her name was Sonata.

Waterfalls abound as the rain feeds their tributaries

As she approached , I called her and talked with the captain. He asked if we were waiting for high slack to enter ourselves and I said we were most likely going to spend the day here, in the outer basin. He encouraged us to consider going in, given that in his opinion it was a special place. He was off to set some prawn traps during his wait for high slack.

That was enough encouragement and obvious local knowledge for us to get in gear and make our way to the inner basin. After all, if we did not like it, we could always return to our spot here, which we thought was pretty special.

Sure enough, about an hour later Sonata returned and made good her course through the narrow passage and disappeared. We lifted anchor and spent some time untangling about 50 foot of barnacle encrusted 3/8 twisted line from our anchor. Karen was not pleased.

We took the line on board and dropped it in about 300 feet of water so it would not foul another unwary boater’s anchor.

Through the pass we went, and Sonata was spot on, the inner basin is a very special place. The sides are steep to and reminded us of the Wasatch mountains in Utah. At the southwest end is a grassy low area, split by a fresh water runoff from the mountains, with a drying flat in front. There were a few waterfalls as well. Behind that the valley opens to a beautiful vista. It was both cozy and spectacular.

Sonanta at anchor in Mickie's Winter Basin, Gut Bay

This anchorage is ringed by alpine views with waterfalls all around

At the head of the bay is a large drying flat pierced by a freshwater stream

As I was writing this blog and Karen was deep into reading another book on her Nook, the tender for Sonata approached and invited us over for drinks later in the afternoon. I offered to bring the wine and the time was set for 5pm.

The rain continued, vacillating between steady, light and a downpour. I tasked myself to the galley to make beef Bolognese sauce, and my famous glazed meatloaf.

At 5 o’clock, our departure time to go visit Sonata, the skies started to show breaks as the rain decreased its relentless cascade. Sonata’s owner, Lee, was very gracious to come over and ferry us back Sonata in his covered tender. Lee was also the builder of Sonata. It’s a Bruce Roberts 62 foot design that Lee made his own, customizing it based on learning gleaned from many years of boat ownership. The list of special touches and features you would want are too long to list, but suffice it to say, it is a vessel I could see living aboard and cruising for extended periods.

Lee and his wife Diane have been living aboard for five, I as remember, years. On board were their friends Dave and Sharon from Bellingham, WA, who had joined them in Petersburg and who would be departing in about a week from Warm Springs Bay.

I am always reminded just what a small world this is. Sharon had lived and worked in the Philadelphia area and Diane has relatives right around the corner from  us. We also know a lot of the same people they do in the Bellingham, Seattle and Northwest Cruising areas. We had lots to talk about.

We shared stories, talked about places to visit in Alaska and other destinations,  and generally had a wonderful evening. An unexpected surprise was an invitation to dinner, “Only burgers” said Diane, but I must say they were some great burgers!

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We spend the night in a truly unique and special place

Cedar Bight to Gut Bay

Karen has taken over the blog, because Bob is cooking up a storm from our cozy anchorage in Gut Bay.

We awoke in Cedar Bight to light rain and clouds…of course. It always seems that way when we want to launch the kayaks. But we haven’t yet christened them on this trip, and time was awastin!  So after a quick breakfast, we got the 12ft Pungos  in the water and the rain stopped for a while. When Bob was making breakfast, I saw that crazy black bear again on the beach.

Karen loves her new Pungo Kayak

Cedar Bight makes for a good paddle

Arctic Star sits at anchor in Cedar Bight…notice the seal head just to the left of our boat

It was super to be back in the kayaks again. There is something magical about the peaceful sound of paddling and the fact that you are so near to the waterline. We decided to paddle to the head of the bay to check out what looked like a freshwater creek and then head for the small inlet we saw via dinghy the day before. As we were just starting to paddle…yes…you guessed it, I saw the black bear again, over on the east shore this time.

Bob set off paddling at a good clip, because we have been too far away for good bear pictures on this trip. The bear was unaware of us at first, but as he approached, the bear raised his head and kind of looked poised for action. What action? I wasn’t sure…but I surely let Bob take the lead in his kayak. I floated behind, ready to backpaddle at a moment’s notice.

Mr. Bear takes notice of us

The bear apparently didn’t like the sound of Bob’s camera clicking, and he started to amble away.  A few more splashes from the kayak paddles and he disappeared into the woods. That was OK with me.

Bob poses for a picture

The stream that feeds he head of the bay…good exploring by foot from here…bring the bear spray

We explored the head of the bay, and what we could of the creek. The entire time, a lone grey seal was following us, kind of tracking us but diving and making a fuss if he got closer than he intended. We thought the bear had a great beach, and as we departed the creek area I heard this bubbling sound and it was like a small fountain was under the water. The water wasn’t more than a few inches deep…and then all around there were smaller bubbles. We have no idea if it was a hot springs or really big geoducks. It was cool, though.

We headed over to the  inlet, crossing a shallow and rocky entrance to see a small inner bay, perhaps part of the bear’s beach patrol area. The seal followed us faithfully. We decided to just drift a while and see what happened with the seal.  It came closer and closer. It did NOT like the sound of Bob’s camera, but it seemed to like my “hey, sealie, sealie” voice, and it got close enough to be within two kayak lengths away. Bob got a pretty good picture of that.

Our curious friend followed us the whole time were explored the area

Back to the boat after about an hour, and we secured the kayaks before heading off to see Happy Cove, another anchorage in Tebenkof that sounded both small and nice. WRONG. It was pretty unappealing and I just wanted to get out. Bob liked Tebenkof, but had commented how it all looked pretty much “alike”…and with forecasts for rain on Saturday with wind, we decided to head off two days early for the east side of Baranof Island and Gut Bay.

We departed Tebenkof about 1:30. It was a long run across the Strait and we were glad our stabilizers helped offset the beam seas we faced. Behind us, Kuiu Island was enshrouded in fog and clouds, but we could see the mountains of Baranof beckoning. We saw eagles swooping and dive bombing some areas out in the Strait…we didn’t see them catch anything, and can’t imagine how long a flight they’ve have back to their crazy rocks in the Bay’s entrance if they actually caught something. Bob worked on pictures while I drove over to Mist Cove, the supposed site of a lovely waterfall.

The waterfall at Mist Cove

Sometimes I get a bit frustrated at the lack of info on Alaska…I love to research things to do and places to see, so I search published books as well as boater blogs. Guess I messed up somehow, because although we saw the pretty waterfall from the Strait, as soon as we entered the Cove, the waterfall was completely obscured by the trees, and the Cove was tiny and the head was now taken up by somebody’s float. So we left, me driving again, so Bob could get a few pix from back out in the Strait.

Another two  hours or so and we arrived at the entrance to Gut Bay. This was one that sounded pretty good, a remote and quiet Bay with few anchoring spots and some serious granite mountains on either side. It was absolutely impressive upon entering, and we actually had some blue skies peeking through the clouds to illuminate our way.  After the last two days in Tebenkof, we had seen no other boats at all – not pleasure boats, not fishing boats. I saw no boats either on the crossing of the Strait. Imagine our surprise to find a little fishing boat trawling away inside Gut Bay! He headed off for the head of the bay while we made our way down towards Mickie’s Winter Basin.

Entrance to Gut Bay…topography promises to be interesting

The scenery get better around every turn

The view from our first anchorage in Gut Bay

The rain makes the waterfall sing

This Basin was the site where a Frenchwoman and her companion wintered over in the ice(!!) in 1995. I can only imagine what that was like. By the time we approached the Basin, the tide was too low to enter over the narrow and shallow bar. So we decided to drop the anchor outside the basin. It was DEEP almost right to shore. Shore was dominated by tall mountains and multiple waterfalls, with trees right down to the shoreline. It was again…impressive. We ended up having to anchor in 70’, which still put us quite close to shore depending on how the wind blew. We were really tired though, and decided to stay put after watching the boat spin about and deciding we’d be safe for the evening. I made tuna fish melts to spell the chef, and we enjoyed the scenery and the bits of blue sky until about 10pm. The forecast for Saturday was Rain and Wind…and we expect to see at least the rain when we awake.

Bob helps the satellite phone make a connection to send and receive emails

An easy dinner…tuna melt