Wrangell Lay Day

This morning marked a milestone: for the first time this trip, I didn’t have to microwave the butter to make it spreadable. Sunshine, blue skies, and temps heading for the high 70s—welcome to summer, Southeast Alaska-style.

You can’t plan for everything

Of course, with Wrangell still under a boil-water advisory, the restaurants remain closed. So, we fired up the dinghy and zipped over to Reliance Harbor for easier access to town. Today’s mission: provisioning. With the dinghy tied just steps from the grocery store, it was a one-trip haul—no long trek back to Heritage Harbor required.

After checking in with the harbormaster, we noticed a cruise ship tour group gathered at Chief Shakes House. We drifted over, played tourist for a while, and listened to a fantastic presentation by a young guide who shared rich insights into Tlingit culture and totem carving.

the cruiseship roald AMUNDSEN JUST JUSR OFF WRANGELL

One fun takeaway: traditional totem colors were made with seal oil and natural ingredients—charcoal for black, crushed shells for white, berries for blues and purples, blood and salmon eggs for reds, oxidized copper for teal, and even lichen, moss, or urine for yellow. It was fascinating and made us appreciate the artistry even more.

We wandered through town and crossed paths with our friends from Time to Play, swapping cruising stories before the heat sent us retreating back to OceanFlyer.

It was over 80°F in the saloon when we returned—our lovely big windows turning the space into a floating greenhouse. We fired up the reverse-cycle AC, which thankfully brought the temps down fast.

Heritage Harbor was quiet, with plenty of space on the transient docks. A calm evening ahead after a surprisingly warm and enlightening day in Wrangell.

Petersburg to Wrangell

Following our cardinal Petersburg rule—arrive, depart, and fuel at slack—we pulled up to the fuel dock 45 minutes before slack, topped off the diesel, and pointed OceanFlyer southbound through Wrangell Narrows under clear blue skies and zero wind. A rare treat this season!

the mountains east of petersberg you never see on a cloudy day

The only real excitement came in the form of Ocean Titan, a tug hauling a massive tow—naturally, right in one of the Narrows’ tightest doglegs. We ducked into a small cove off the channel and let them pass. A grateful “thank you” came back over the radio from the tug captain.

Happy to step aside and let this big boy pass

We were looking forward to Wrangell—more restaurants than Petersburg, and a couple spots we missed back in May. On the way, Karen chatted over VHF with the crew of Time to Play, who were halibut jigging nearby. We also overheard a cringe-worthy moment: a gillnetter warning a pleasure craft about his gear—warnings that went unheeded, and the net paid the price. Ouch.

passing liesnoi island wragell is spread out along the shore of wrangell island

Heritage Harbor had plenty of room on the transient dock. As we were tying up, Joe—a local Grand Banks owner—strolled by and casually mentioned a boil water advisory issued earlier that morning. First we’d heard of it. No signage on the docks, and no mention from the harbormaster. Big thanks to Joe for the heads-up.

At 5 p.m., we launched the dinghy, craving pizza from The Hungry Beaver. What we hadn’t realized was that the water advisory had shuttered most of town’s restaurants. We arrived to a locked door, then started calling around—nobody answering, or serving only drinks. Strikeout.

Dinner turned into frozen pizza and beer back aboard OceanFlyer. Not exactly what we had in mind.

Oh, and did we mention it was 76°F when we docked? After months of fleece and flannel, the sun felt downright shocking. For us, today marked the official start of summer.

Petersburg Lay Day

Sunshine in Petersburg! A welcome change from our gray May visit and a perfect excuse to enjoy town.

We kicked off the day with breakfast at the always-reliable Salty Pantry. Great as ever—and we grabbed two sticky buns to sweeten tomorrow’s early departure.

Top priority today: provisions. We restocked the pantry as best we could, though the produce section was a little weary. We grabbed the essentials and left the limp lettuce behind.

Karen’s power bank had given up the ghost a few days ago, so we stopped at Homeport Electronics for a replacement—highly recommended spot if you need tech support in Southeast.

Back aboard OceanFlyer, we tackled laundry, topped off the water tanks, and knocked out a few boat chores in prep for the journey south.

Dinner was a return to El Zarape, where we stuck with the favorites—Birria Tacos for Bob, Rockfish Tacos for Karen. Just as delicious the second time around.

We wrapped up the evening with another visit aboard Spirit. Patrick and Miriam welcomed us back to meet their guests and sample a refreshing lychee and gin cocktail. Great drinks, good conversation, and a cozy cap to a productive lay day.

Tomorrow, we point the bow toward Wrangell as we continue the slow, sweet slide toward home.

Foot Island to Petersburg

Today’s cruise was all about timing—specifically, slack water at the top of Wrangell Narrows. Hit it right and docking in Petersburg is a breeze. Miss it, and things get... sporty. Slack was around 1:30 p.m., so we enjoyed a relaxed morning and a mid-day departure from Foot Island.

The cruise south was smooth and scenic. We passed pod after pod of humpbacks—plenty of blows and tail flukes, though no bubble-netting or breaches today. Still, it’s always a thrill to have whales alongside.

A seadoo group passed us as we approached petersberg

Fun?

Petersburg doesn’t take slip reservations, but Karen gave the harbormaster a courtesy call this morning. To our surprise (and delight), they gave us the exact slip we had back in May. Familiar territory—and an easy landing.

The fish plant was working overtime, and with it came the unmistakable aroma of "money," as the locals like to say. Depending on the breeze, it ranged from barely noticeable to sinus-clearing strong.

Across the dock was Spirit, a 55' Selene. We’d met her owner, Patrick, earlier this year in Sitka. He and his wife, Miriam, invited us aboard for evening cocktails. We swapped Alaska cruising stories and heard about their far-flung adventures on expedition cruises—to Antarctica, the Arctic, and other dream-destination extremes.

They've been cruising Alaska for 14 seasons, balancing their own boat time with voyages to the ends of the Earth. A perfect end to a great day—old friends, new stories, and Petersburg’s unmistakable charm.

Ford’s Terror to Foot Island

It was tough to say goodbye to Ford’s Terror, but it was time to start heading south. We woke to overcast skies—Alaska’s way of giving us a gentle nudge to move on.

High tide in Juneau was around 6:15 a.m. at +13.4 feet. When we entered Ford’s Terror, the tidal exchange was bigger, and slack hit about 45 minutes after high. With today’s smaller exchange, we figured slack might come a bit earlier—but it’s never an exact science in this twisting slot.

We lifted anchor around 6:00 a.m. and cruised past the waterfall to stage just inside the narrows. Unlike our entry, this time a handful of icebergs had drifted into the inner basin, so we had to thread between them as we held position, watching the current.

From inside the dogleg, you can’t see the rapids—you have to trust your gut. At 6:50 a.m., we both agreed: now or never. We slipped through with about a knot of current on the nose and glassy water—no turbulence, no drama. Depth under the keel bottomed out at 13.1 feet. A Nordhavn was anchored in the outer bay, and a sailboat waited behind us. Once clear, we radioed back that conditions were favorable, and they followed us through.

Next stop: Foot Island, about six hours away. We passed Sumdum Glacier again, still stunning, and enjoyed a peaceful ride with mild seas and a few humpbacks feeding along the way. We even spotted a group of eight Sea Doos racing through the chop—soaked and bouncing. Definitely not our preferred way to cruise Alaska.

Foot Island is well protected in calm conditions, despite its exposure to the northwest. We dropped anchor in a basin nearly enclosed by a wide rocky shoal, with only a narrow channel for access. At low tide, the spit between Foot Island and Steamboat Bay looks like a manmade breakwater—steep and rugged. The bottom here is just as rocky, so it took a couple of tries to get a good set.

Food island anchorage

low tide at foot island

a completely different look at high tide

Once secure, we scouted the sprawling low-tide beaches and enjoyed the peaceful solitude. A quiet end to a big day—leaving the wild beauty of Ford’s Terror behind and settling into a new, rugged corner of Southeast Alaska.

sunset over foot island anchorage