Walker Cove, Lay Day

Another glorious morning in Misty Fjords, perfect for a day of dinghy exploring. After breakfast, we set off for the head of Walker Cove before the winds picked up. The sheer granite walls and towering mountains made for jaw-dropping scenery, with waterfalls spilling down the cliffs as we worked our way into the two lobes at the head.

Karen’s sharp eyes spotted the day’s highlight—two young grizzlies working the shoreline, flipping rocks for snacks. They barely noticed us, so we drifted quietly and watched the show. Hard to imagine a wilder backdrop than this sweeping valley of stone and snowmelt.

Breakfast on the beach

the two cubs certainly have a beautiful home

We scouted both lobes with future anchorages in mind. One spot looked promising, though it would be wide open to fetch in the wrong conditions. Satisfied with the recon, we headed back to OceanFlyer to wait on the tide for our afternoon mission: running the river into Champagne Bight.

oceanflyer on the ball at walker cove

the river awaits our exploration

At 15.4 feet on Rudyerd Bay’s tide station, we squeezed into the river with just three feet under the dinghy. The river lived up to its name—subtle fizzing in the current really did look like champagne bubbles. When it shoaled, we dropped the dinghy anchor, launched the drone, and captured sweeping shots of this hidden valley.

the river that feeds into walker cove

sitting the flow of the river taking in all the beauty

the river weaves it way back into the valley

you can see the shoals that clealry from on high

on of our favorite things it to drop the dinghy’s anchor and just sit and enjoy

a view of one of the magnificant valleys you never see from sea level

While flying the drone and look back toward OceanFlyer I noticed a sailboat near our boat. By the time we returned, they had wandered down to the head, but not long after they reappeared and asked to raft up on our mooring. With one of their crew having dived this ball’s anchor in years past and confirming it solid, we welcomed them alongside.

The evening was peaceful: a grizzly patrolling the flats at low tide, the mountains glowing, and two boats gently swinging together in one of the most stunning places on earth. Tomorrow, we point the bow toward Punchbowl Cove.

Yes Bay to Walker Cove

Still glowing from last night’s feast at Yes Bay Lodge, we hauled anchor and set course for Misty Fjords National Monument. Skipping this stop earlier in the trip—when it was buried in rain and low clouds—now feels like one of our best decisions. Today, the fjords greeted us with sunshine.

saying goodbye to yes bay lodge

The run across the back of Behm Canal was smooth, but as soon as we turned south, up came the southeasterly wind and chop. We debated stopping at Fitzgibbon Cove but pressed on for Walker Cove—better protection and the promise of jaw-dropping scenery. Six hours later, our patience paid off.

The entrance into Walker Cove is pure theater: towering granite walls, snow-capped peaks, and reflections that look painted on the water. Best of all, the lone Forest Service buoy in Champagne Bight sat empty, waiting just for us.

Mooring practice isn’t something we get much in the San Juans or Gulf Islands—our boat is usually too big for the gear down there—but this buoy was industrial strength. We talked through the plan, and it went like clockwork: I held the helm, Karen took the swim step, slipped the line through the eye, and we walked it forward to the bow. With a second line set and a touch of slack, OceanFlyer was secure.

Oceanflyer sitting on the ball in stunning walker cove

Tomorrow’s plan is to explore the head of the cove and see how far the dinghy can nose up the river at high tide. For tonight, we’ve got Walker Cove entirely to ourselves—a private stage of granite, snow, and silence.

a peak up the river for tomorrow’s exploration

Naha Bay to Yes Bay

We woke to a peaceful morning tied to the park dock at Naha Bay, and I whipped up my “Better-Than-Box Pancakes”—a reliable crowd-pleaser aboard OceanFlyer.

No rush today. The plan was simple: a visit to the ghost-town-turned-summer-retreat of Loring, followed by a short 2.5-hour hop up to Yes Bay.

Just after breakfast, three small runabouts pulled up and spilled out a lively crew of about 18 women (plus a few brave men). They were the “Walkie Talkies” from Ketchikan—a local hiking group whose name says it all. I was promptly recruited for a group photo before they, along with three energetic dogs, hit the trail. Roosevelt Lagoon is a favorite local getaway, and this crew came ready to make the most of it.

After they disappeared into the forest, we cast off for Loring. These days, it’s a sleepy cluster of summer homes, but back in the 1800s, it was a bustling cannery town and rival to Ketchikan. Now? The 2020 census says zero full-time residents.

loring has a small dock with lots of guidelines

We tied up to the outside of the “T” dock—solid depth (40 feet at zero tide), and calm enough not to worry about fetch. The long ramp to shore is best left to dinghies or nimble hikers—it's one of those bouncy, sectioned docks where timing your steps matters. Pro tip: one person per section at a time avoids the trampoline effect.

oceanflyer on the dock at loring

loring and its dock in the distance with a private home and dock on the point

We wandered Loring’s overgrown boardwalks, passing a handful of weathered homes—some charming, some for sale, others in need of love. We tried to find the trail to the cemetery but came up short. Still, it was a lovely, quiet stroll. Not another person in sight.

the dock makes lanfall in the center of loring

a relic from more properous times in loring

the waterfront homes of loring

From there, we continued north up Behm Canal. Showers rolled through, sometimes dropping visibility, but the ride was easy and scenic. We passed several longliners and a few pleasure boats along the way. Just before entering Yes Bay, the current gave us a nice push.

As you enter the bay, Yes Bay Lodge is immediately visible—a big presence near the site of the old cannery. We passed it and turned into the southwest basin. As promised by fellow cruisers, there was a floating dock/barge anchored at the head of the cove, sporting a mix of “Alaskan yard art.” We dropped anchor in about 60 feet with room to spare.

looking back into Yes Bay from our anchorage in sawmioll cove

the floating “dock” at the head of swmill cove

Once settled, OceanFlyer swung to face out into the bay, giving us a beautiful, cozy view down the inlet. The basin was glassy calm, the anchorage quiet, and we capped off the evening with a golden sunset. Another picture-perfect stop in Southeast Alaska.

looking out from the head of sawmill cove

Vixen Inlet to Naha Bay

All things considered, Vixen Inlet treated us better than expected. Despite being open to wind and fetch, the night was only mildly rolly and occasionally noisy when OceanFlyer’s stern swung into the chop. No bears showed up, but Karen did spot a deer browsing at the head of the inlet before we lifted anchor.

The mud flats at Vixen Inlet

THe Vixen Inlet extend as far as the eye can see

looking our of vixen inlet from the mud flats

Our destination today is Naha Bay on West Behm Canal. The ride was smooth and pleasant—mostly sunny through Clarence Strait, with clouds building later in the day. We cruised past Meyers Chuck and the tiny town of Loring before turning toward the Naha River wilderness dock.

To our delight, it was empty.

We have the docks to ourselves

The dock—recently renovated—is in excellent shape. We tied up along the longest section, with only about eight feet of bow hanging out. Not bad for a 50-footer.

Just the right size for oceanflyer

you can see the small village of loring in the distance

With cool temps and no crowds, we decided to stretch our legs on the Naha River Trail. This turned out to be one of the nicest hikes we’ve done all season. We took the righthand fork toward the rapids and picnic area first. The rapids were absolutely raging—two distinct 3-foot drops and a wall of whitewater, even on a +10’ tide. Entering Roosevelt Lagoon by dinghy was definitely off the table without another 7 feet of water and some luck.

nice trails at Naha Bay

the picnic area at naha bay and roosevelt lagoon

good signage but in need of some love soon

Continuing along the trail, we found a clever little kayak portage system, then doubled back and took the main gravel path toward the lagoon. The walk was full of character: old rowboats pulled onto the rocky shoreline, a half-sunken floating dock, charming wooden bridges, and beautifully built stairs tucked into the mossy forest. It felt remote and well-loved all at once.

a convenient portage trail around the rapids

the rapids at naha bay deserve some serious respect

the rapids at about half tide

karen stops to grab a photo of roosevely lagoon

beaches and boats grace the walk along roosvelt lagoon

no swans today

On the way back, we chatted with two fishermen from a nearby lodge trying their luck in the lagoon. Later, a small boat came ashore briefly, then departed, leaving us alone on the float for the night.

Naha Bay turned out to be a hidden gem—quiet, scenic, and full of charm. We'll definitely be back.

Wrangell to Vixen Inlet

Today we continued our slow slide south, making our way toward Behm Canal and the Misty Fjords.

After two unusually sunny days in Wrangell, we were almost relieved to see partly cloudy skies—cooler air and no greenhouse effect in the saloon. Light winds and flat seas made for an easy ride most of the way.

Zimovia Strait, which looks a bit intimidating on the charts, turned out to be classic Southeast Alaska: wide, well-marked, and scenic. We passed a few fishboats and anchored sailboats, but otherwise had the route to ourselves.

Now, it’s an ongoing joke aboard OceanFlyer that the moment Karen takes the helm, chaos follows. Today was textbook. No sooner had she settled in than the winds shifted, beam seas rolled in, and we were taking green water over the bow. Cue the drama.

Vixen Inlet—our planned overnight—was chosen more for convenience than comfort. It’s exposed to the northwest, and wouldn’t you know it, the wind came from the NW with a solid 15 knots. We dropped anchor in 55 feet, set plenty of scope, and deployed the bridle. OceanFlyer rides well in a chop, but calm it wasn’t.

The forecast calls for the wind to ease below 10 knots by morning. In the meantime, we’re expecting 15–20 knots most of the night. Safe to say we’ll have Vixen Inlet all to ourselves.

On the upside? A gorgeous sunset and the hope of a quieter dawn.

vixen inlet puts on a show at sunset