Leaving Juneau

At 5 am, after I had showered and returned the key fob to the marina office, Jennifer and I cast off from the dock at Juneau’s Harris Harbor.

Caro Babbo had been on the dock 16 days, while Jennifer and I went off to Atlanta to get work started on some properties there. We are currently hands-on investors and are trying hard to transition to hands-off by selling our real estate investments there and giving the money to Roy who handles the rest of our money.

We arrived Juneau Sunday evening, shopped for groceries Monday, and cleaned house Tuesday before Erwin and Laura arrived. This is the third of four years that Erwin and Laura have joined us. Last year we didn’t feel we could have guests while we were dealing with Hilary’s needs.

We hit the gift shops yesterday and were treated like cruise boat tourists. It is a very different way to be treated. The sales people quickly qualify a prospect, deciding whether there might be a sale. Jennifer and I were in the way of people making their living.

As we pulled away from the dock, a hand cautiously lifted the aft cabin hatch. After letting us know he was coming out, Erwin removed the drop board and joined us in the cockpit. Laura soon followed. Water was already boiling; we all had coffee and tea. We are all on east coast time, so five am was 9 am a few days ago, but six hours sleep still isn’t very many,

After many days of sun in Juneau Alaska weather is returning. It is overcast, with little wind, and a chance of rain. Tour boats zoom by us at 25 knots, some in search of whales, others with fixed destinations.

We’re trying to get a walk up reservation into Glacier Bay, but were unsuccessful for the 28th, two days from now. We’ll try again tomorrow.

Today, we will motor all day. We’ve eaten soup with spaghettini and a poached egg for breakfast, spoken for length about all sorts of topics, danced carefully around politics and done the necessary business that life requires: dealing with the post office, doctors and insurance companies. Now Erwin reads ”A Canticle for Liebowitz,” Jennifer reads the Times — We have cellular service at the moment. Laura sleeps down below and I write to you.

Tonight, we’ll anchor in Swanson Harbor at floating dock – we hope – then off to Hoona mañana.

The watermaker whines out a Rumba at quarter speed. Having service means that nuisance callers can reach us.

”Scam likely” is our favorite caller-id from T-Mobile, but we also receive ”potential fraud” and others that roll of the tongue less pleasantly. ”Scam Likely” sounds like that fun blonde haired guy in highschool that was always running some harebrained scam that no one ever took serously and laughed off after he made his pitch, ”Hey, there’s Scam Likely,.” He grew up and returned to the same high school to teach history as Mr. Likely, a member of the staff with the teachers who taught him, eventually becoming senior faculty with no around who remembered the 16-year old with the grin, the cow lick and the roll of singles with a ten dollar bill on the outside.

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As we neared Couverden Island Jennifer cried out, ”Orcas!” Then, ”No, wait… I did see them, I think.” Yes, she had. A pod of seven were feeding on salmon. Appearing singly as they fed and then as the entire pod as they regrouped and moved north. Jennifer called a charter boat we know in the area to tell them the Orcas were here, in case they had guests.

We circled and floated as the Orcas dined.

The wind would have been enough to sail, but beating to windward this late in the day would have put us at the dock much later than we wanted to be there.

The wind was steady, and the ”floats” each had one fishing boat on the outside toward the harbor. Jennifer decided to dock on the inside so that the float would protect us from the waves built from the wind crossing the harbor.

At the last moment, she changed her mind. We docked on the outside. We agreed there was little fetch across the harbor and the wind would follow its normal pattern and die across the night.

But it didn’t. The wind has blown at 8 gusting to 12 all night. The waves have been small, but it has not, for me, been a peaceful night. The anxiety of leaving the windward side of a dock and what we might find in Icy Strat has kept me awake.

Jennifer’s CPAP bothered her during the night, so she turned it off. Otherwise she seems to be sleeping the sleep of the innocents.

At seven, we’ll send an email asking for entrance into Glacier Bay, and at the advice of the staff, call as well.

As we approach Hoona, we’ll also have cellular service. Laura is concerned there’ll be nothing to do there.

As Alaska overcast and rainy weather returns, foul weather-clothed activities will become the norm.

Sent from Iridium Mail & Web.