Takatz to Tenakee Springs

With following seas, 20-knot winds, and favorable currents, today was a good day to ride the flow north up Chatham Strait toward Tenakee Springs.

The first part of the trip was a bit lively. The seas kept nudging our stern, and the autopilot worked overtime trying to stay on track. Eventually, I switched to heading hold and adjusted our course about 10 degrees to take the seas on the quarter—small tweaks, big difference. Conditions smoothed out the farther north we got.

Why Tenakee? With rain in the forecast, we figured a walkable little town sounded better than a soggy wilderness anchorage. It’s been 15 years since our last visit, and while we expect much of it to be the same, we’re curious to see what’s changed.

We only saw three other boats during the five-hour run. One of them was Serengeti, a yacht formerly owned by Johnny Carson (kids, ask your parents). Otherwise, it was just us and the waves.

The harbor has been completely rebuilt since our last visit, though the layout remains familiar. Fortunately, the transient dock had just enough space for OceanFlyer and a 36-footer. No reservations here—it’s first-come, first-tie—and after a long run, we were happy to find a spot. I did eye a few open slips on the permanent docks that might’ve worked in a pinch, likely with a quick radio call to the harbor mistress.

We tied up on the outside of D dock and hailed the harbor on Channel 16, hoping to get the power pedestal unlocked. No response, so we waited for the afternoon rounds. Sure enough, the harbor mistress eventually appeared and got us plugged in.

Clouds and rain marked our arrival at Tenakee Springs

Karen had done some advance recon and discovered that Tenakee’s legendary Party Time Bakery is no more—but a private chef in town is now offering cinnamon buns. The catch? Her posted days don’t align with our visit. Never one to give up on a good pastry, Karen fired off an email. Fingers crossed for a sweet reply.

If tomorrow’s weather holds, we’ll get out and stretch our legs. After a day of rolling seas and closed-loop cabin time, we’re both more than ready to walk somewhere that doesn’t move.

Takatz Bay Lay Day

A classic Alaska lay day—gray skies, steady rain, and the perfect excuse to stay cozy aboard. We tackled some paid work and chipped away at the endless list of boat projects, all while the rain tapped gently on the deck.

By afternoon, two pocket cruisers joined us in the bay: one was a rugged aluminum beauty named Nunatuk, the other a sleek 90-footer whose name slipped past us. Both anchored respectfully at a distance—always appreciated.

Between projects and coffee refills, we kept watch on the estuary at the head of the bay. Patience paid off with a solid grizzly sighting, lumbering along the shoreline. Meanwhile, a pair of bald eagles put on a fishing show off our port side, diving from the small island nearby.

Quiet, rainy, and just wild enough to feel like we were still deep in the heart of Alaska.

the now too frequent view

Red Bluff Bay to Takatz Bay

The sun made a rare and welcome appearance this morning—blue skies peeked through as if to remind us what we’ve been missing. The forecast says it won’t last, so we savored every golden moment.

looking back from red bluff bay anchorage to the waterfall

the river at the head of red bluff bay

Our neighbor Time to Play, a 37’ Nordic Tug out of Oregon, slipped out early to check their shrimp pots near the entrance to Red Bluff Bay. We lingered a bit longer for photos at the falls, now framed beautifully by the actual “red bluffs” that give the bay its name—clearly visible in the morning light.

The run north was smooth, with a high cloud ceiling offering dramatic views of the surrounding mountain ranges. Except for Time to Play ahead and one big fishing vessel towing a floating fish camp, we had the water to ourselves—unless you count the pair of humpbacks cruising southbound and a pod of porpoises too busy chasing lunch to bother with our bow wake.

We're a bit faster than Time to Play, so we caught up as they were scouting anchor spots in Takatz Bay. Thanks to AIS, we watched them test both of the same locations we’d marked, ultimately choosing the one by the waterfall—where we ourselves anchored back in 2016.

OceanFLyer [right] and Time to play anchored in Takatz

After lunch, I launched the drone to catch some last light before the clouds thickened. We dropped the dinghy to test the repairs and took a slow tour of the bay. At low tide, we swung by Time to Play to introduce ourselves—seemed wise before they filed a restraining order. Tim and Carolyn, it turns out, are seasoned cruisers on their second Alaskan adventure. Compared to our run from Bellingham, their trip from Oregon in a 37-footer is seriously impressive.

We stayed on bear watch through the evening, but came up empty. Light rain returned just as the sun bowed out. Aside from Time to Play, we had Takatz all to ourselves—a rare and peaceful end to a beautiful day.

good bear watching

Red Bluff Bay Lay Day

With a rare break in the rain, it was the perfect day to tackle phase two of our dinghy repair. Yesterday’s G-Poxy had fully cured, so out came our secret weapon: Gorilla Tape. It held strong two years ago—here’s hoping it’s still got what it takes for another Alaskan season.

oceanflyer and time to play anchorage in red bluff bay

I prepped the aluminum using all the tricks I learned from the pros—60-grit sandpaper and red Scotch-Brite to rough things up, followed by a wipe-down with 3M adhesive remover to banish any lingering gunk. Then came the tape: long strips along the repair, capped at each end with overlapping cross-strips to keep the edges sealed tight.

With the patch reinforced, the rest of the day was low-key. I chipped away at blog writeups and sorted through a mountain of photos while the clouds slowly gave way to occasional sunshine. We didn’t leave the anchorage—and didn’t need to. Aside from Time to Play, the Nordic Tug that's been sharing Red Bluff Bay with us, we had the place entirely to ourselves.

the head of red bluff bay

looking past the waterfall to the entrance channel at red bluff bay

the waterfall at red bluff bay is feed by a hidden lake

moonrise as the sun sets in red bluff bay

Sometimes, the best days are the quiet ones.

Cannery Cove to Red Bluff Bay

Our itinerary has officially been tossed overboard—between the weather and a wounded dinghy, we’re now cruising on instinct and opportunity. Today’s pick: Red Bluff Bay.

With a front moving in and rain expected through Thursday, Red Bluff seemed like the perfect hideout to tackle repairs. Our dinghy’s starboard tube delamination needs a solid cure, and while G/flex epoxy likes 72°F, we’ll settle for 48 hours in Alaska’s mid-40s. The bears can keep us company.

The run south along Admiralty Island delivered glassy seas and barely-there winds. Humpbacks fed just offshore, lifting their flukes in sync as they dove. No acrobatics, but plenty of grace.

the snowcapped mountains of Baranof island

Things changed mid-crossing of Chatham Strait. Winds built to 20–25 knots on the port beam, but OceanFlyer handled it well and we cruised comfortably into Red Bluff’s dramatic entry. Rust-colored cliffs give way to a steep-sided channel, cannery ruins, and a thundering waterfall that marks the approach to the inner anchorage.

the red bluffs at the entrance are the namesake of red bluff bay

the path into red bluff bay anchorage provides a range of inestering views

red bluff bay is just through that pass which seems so narrow from this vantagepoint

on the way into red bluff bay, look to your left for the lacy falls.

Once the hook was down, we grabbed lunch and dove into repairs—literally and figuratively. Three hours in the rain, armed with epoxy and patience. A soggy job, but necessary. And yes, it rained all evening.

Red Bluff is a perennial favorite for cruisers, and today was no exception. One small trawler was already anchored when we arrived. Later, Liseron steamed in—a 150’ ex-minesweeper turned boutique cruiser—bringing 20 guests right up to the waterfall before anchoring a respectful 0.2 NM off our beam.

mouse ears spotted on the way to red bluff bay

Then came the Legacy, a four-deck, 86-passenger ship. It made a dramatic nose-in to the falls, lingered briefly in the misty rain, then gave a farewell toot and vanished into the night. No launches, no kayaks, no paddleboards—just a rainy pit stop and gone.

Legacy pokes her bow at the falls in red bluff bay

So here we are: alone again in a cove that’s never really quiet, surrounded by waterfalls, red rock, and the steady rhythm of rain. Not a bad place to ride out the weather and give some epoxy its time to cure.