Oh my goodness. Talk about a study in contrasts. Yesterday was nasty, so we decided to call it a harbor day and just stay put in Blue Mouse Cove. When I say nasty, I mean nasty. Winds were blowing 20 knots, I could see whitecaps out in the bay and waves crashing at the entrance to the cove, and there was a 2-foot chop inside the cove itself. It was a day to stay cozy inside, watching movies, playing games and baking bread.
Another boat showed up in the anchorage about noon. We talked with them on the radio and they said they had seen 5 to 6-foot seas out in the bay proper, further proving we had made the right decision to stay put. Joe put some more rode out, just to be on the safe side, since the weather report his parents e-mailed to us called for 35-knot gusts that night.
I was hoping for a better night's sleep since the previous night wasn't a good one--Ha! Thanks to the wind--steady 20-25 knots with gusts upwards of 35-40 knots, I had a hard time sleeping again. I kept hearing the boat pulling back on the anchor line and the rope str-e-e-etching out. Suddenly, the sound I had been waiting for and dreading came. Kyrie pulled back in a gust, the rode stretched out with a long, drawn-out CR-REEAA-CK, and then BANG! I sat straight up with a gasp that barely escaped being some sort of swear and grabbed my glasses. Joe sat up too, saying, "Well, something let go," and scrambled out of bed ahead of me.
As we both crammed our feet in boots in the cockpit, I found myself trembling with my teeth chattering. I wasn't cold--I was scared. All I could think was, "Oh God, did our anchor rode break and now we're floating free in this?" I followed Joe out into the pitch black howling night to check the anchor. It was still firmly attached and we were pulled back just as much as before. After watching for a few minutes to make sure that was still the case, Joe said we could go back to the cockpit.
Once back, he could tell something was wrong. "Are you okay?" he asked me. "No," I replied. "I'm not." I told him that was one of the first times I could remember being truly terrified. After walking me through what had happened--the prussick knot he used to fasten to the anchor rode had slipped on the wet rope because he had used two wraps when he ought to have used three--and then reminding me how much force the anchor chain and rode could handle before they broke, I found myself calming down. We went back to bed and, happily, the wind died down after another hour. Sleep at last!
Upon awakening, the seas had died down and the wind was almost nonexistent. It was time to haul the anchor up and move on! The anchor had dug itself deep into the sticky blue clay bottom, but came up fairly easily since Joe gave it some time to work itself loose. Onward at last! Reid Inlet was about two hours away and Don Douglass' book Exploring Southeast Alaska said it was a great glacier to explore.
After threading our way through the bitsy bergs, we dropped the hook in about 50 feet of super silty water and piled into the dinghy. That was a fun hike! Reid Glacier is not a tidewater glacier, ending about 1000 yards from the water. Therefore, we were able to scramble over rocks, splash through creeks and squish our way across good old glacial flour to the the face, although not completely unscathed. Megan decided to run through a patch of silt and fell flat on her face, covering herself in blue silty mud right at the beginning. I rediscovered the hole in my boot while crossing one of the creeks and ended up with a boot full of water. Regardless, we had a fantastic time and the hike was just what we needed to get the cabin crazies out.
We are now anchored almost directly across the bay from Reid Inlet in what is known as Russell Island Passage, right up against Russell Island. It looks like we should be pretty well protected for the night, so I'm hoping for a good night's sleep tonight. Tomorrow, we hope to go see one of the tidewater glaciers. Kyrie among the icebergs!
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