Tracy Arm Cove to Ford’s Terror

Today’s cruise was all about the tides. To safely transit into Ford’s Terror, you’ve got to hit high slack precisely—there’s no winging it here. Using Wood Spit as our reference (it’s the closest reporting station), we planned to arrive in the outer bay around 5:00 p.m. and run the narrows at 5:30. With high tide at 4:49, we split the difference between the commonly accepted slack window of 15–60 minutes after high.

There’s no shortage of advice these days on timing the entrance—blogs, photos, AIS tracks. Maybe even too much info. A few nights ago, Marine Traffic showed nearly 10 boats inside. We were hoping for a quieter experience.

The ride up Endicott Arm was easy, with just a few bergy bits and stunning views of the hanging Sumdum Glacier. As we arrived at the holding spot outside Ford’s Terror, M/V Lituya was already there. We soon spotted Salty Dawg blasting through the narrows a bit too early for our taste, followed by three small fishing boats making a wild dash through the whitewater.

Lituya, on the other hand, had a calmer approach. After chatting on the radio, we agreed to follow her lead—she’s made the run multiple times. Right on schedule at 5:30, she moved in. I tracked both our course and her AIS track—they aligned perfectly.

Our transit was smooth. No current, no drama. But Ford’s Terror saves one last twist after the 90-degree dogleg—another shallow stretch that keeps you on your toes. Once through, the reward hits you: towering granite walls, cascading waterfalls, and an ever-unfolding landscape that shifts with every bend. It’s jaw-dropping.

Karen reported no less than 18.5 feet under the keel at a 14.7-foot tide. Respect the timing, follow the track, and this passage is far more awe-inspiring than terrifying. Honestly, they should’ve named it “Ford’s Narrows.”

We continued past the eastern fork to the head of the basin, anchoring in 100 feet near the northwest shore. Lituya took the waterfall side, which we gladly left open as thanks for guiding us through. We had the place to ourselves—just two boats surrounded by Alaska at its best.

The evening was calm and beautiful, with the waterfall providing both a soundtrack and a view. We raised a glass to checking off a true bucket-list destination. Ford’s Terror delivered in every way.

Tracy Arm Cove to Sawyer Glacier

Today’s mission: visit both North and South Sawyer Glaciers—or at least get as close as the ice will let us. It’s been nearly two decades since our last run up Tracy Arm, and we were eager to see what’s changed.

Based on the lack of icebergs in the cove and a few fast-moving AIS targets yesterday, we suspected the arm might be pretty clear. Sure enough, we enjoyed a smooth ride all the way to Sawyer Island before the ice started making an appearance.

Just beyond the island, we spotted the MV Odyssey—the full-time residence cruise ship—parked in the pack ice. We hailed them on the radio to let them know we’d be holding off a safe distance to launch the drone. They appreciated the heads-up, and as we recovered the drone, they spun around and began their slow turn out.

M/V Odyssey stops for a view of south sawyer galcier

With South Sawyer still looking clogged, we made a detour up to North Sawyer. No ice, but also no close approach—the glacier has receded quite a bit. Still, the scenery was striking, and we enjoyed another drone flight in the solitude of the north arm.

hard to appreciate the scale of these large glaciers that dissapear into the distance

“close up” of the north sawyer glacier showing the rivers of ice that feed it face

must have photo of Oceanflyer in from of the north sawyer glacier

We returned to South Sawyer and managed to work farther in this time. The ice had thinned a bit, but it still wasn’t glacier-face-close. As we began nudging bergs with the bow, accompanied by the unnerving grind of ice on hull, we took that as our cue to retreat.

Under surprisingly sunny skies, we made a calm run back to Tracy Arm Cove and dropped anchor in the exact same spot as the night before. A Canadian-flagged sailboat, Endless Song, passed us on the way out—otherwise, it was quiet.

By evening, the cove was bustling. The Slowboat flotilla rolled in, bringing the total to 11–12 boats, yet there was still plenty of room for all. A big day, a beautiful place, and a night shared with good company on the hook.

evening low tide and sunset in tracy arm cove

Tracy Arm Cove Lay Day

Rain and low clouds made the decision easy—today was a lay day.

it one of those days

We’re holed up in Tracy Arm Cove, waiting for a break in the weather before heading up to the glaciers. Forecast says the rain will lift tomorrow, so we’ll hold here and let nature reset the stage.

It’s clear the constant rain is wearing on more than just us. We’ve noticed cruising blogs we follow shifting tone—entries getting shorter, photos fewer, and even the bravest “we love all weather” attitudes sounding a bit soggy. This temperate rainforest reminds us who's in charge.

tracy arm cove, a.k.a. no name cove, is always popular with boats staging to see glaciers

Still, no complaints. We stayed dry, spirits stayed high—and not a single iceberg wandered into the cove.

Tomorrow, we chase ice.

Windfall Harbor to Tracy Arm Cove

We woke to a dreary forecast and decided we’d rather face the weather underway than sit through another soggy lay day. With southeast winds and seas predicted under two feet in Stephens Passage, we aimed for Tracy Arm Cove—our jumping-off point to see the glaciers.

The most fog we have seen so far

M/v evviva, a 163 foot westport with helicopter, passed us as we departed windfall harbor

Seymour Canal gave us a proper Alaskan sendoff: 25–30 knot headwinds and a current running with the wind made for a choppy ride and the occasional blast of green water over the windshield. Not terrible, but definitely not dry.

As we rounded Point Hugh, the ride turned sporty. Swells hit us broadside, and OceanFlyer gave us a lean that felt like 45 degrees (though we know it wasn’t quite that dramatic). Still, anything not battened down went flying.

Despite the conditions, Point Hugh delivered what we came for— whales. A humpback mother and calf surfaced right across our bow, forcing a brief pause. Later, an orca breached nearby, and the pod cruised by. No photos this time — too wet, too rolly — but the memory sticks.

Crossing Stephens Passage, we adjusted course to smooth out the ride in the confused following seas. Entering Tracy Arm was easy with slack water and well-marked buoys. We know from past experience how fast the current can run here—those markers lean hard during full ebb or flood.

We anchored on the west side of the cove, hoping the shallow shoals would block any rogue icebergs. One boat was already on the east side, and three more joined them later, probably seeking shelter from the forecasted southeast wind. Spoiler alert: the cove offers little protection from that direction.

The afternoon brought a parade of squalls. One hit 50 knots, kicking up a full field of whitecaps. Definitely our roughest day since leaving Bellingham—but still nothing to complain about.

Evening settled in with shifting clouds, bursts of rain, and calming winds. By nightfall, OceanFlyer was quiet and still, ready for tomorrow’s adventure up Tracy Arm.

Lay Day in Windfall Harbor

With the forecast promising dry skies until early afternoon, we launched the dinghy mid-morning for a loop around the harbor. Our mission: scout out anchoring alternatives and keep an eye out for wildlife.

No bears this time, but we did spot eight deer, including a fawn sticking close to its mother—a quiet highlight along the rugged shoreline.

Common Merganser and her chicks

After 4.7 miles of slow exploring, we returned to OceanFlyer just as the first raindrops began to fall—right on schedule. PredictWind continues to impress us with its accuracy. After years of use, it’s become our go-to forecast tool.

our neighbors in windfall harbor and its mini-me

same two boats shows the scale of alaska

oceanflyer is also dwarfed in windfall harbor by the snowcaped mountians

looking for yummy stuff in the mud

“not all sea birds want to get wet” says a bonaparte’s Gull

The weather service issued a gale warning for the afternoon into tomorrow morning, so we hunkered down. But by bedtime, the only thing blowing was a light 5-knot breeze. We’ll take it.