Red Rock and an Alaska Experience

We had just hauled Allie out of the water and into our dinghy when we head a whoosh.  Turning, we saw a hole in the water and a plume of whale exhalation.

WHALE.  I’m not sure which one of us quietly named the animal we could not see. 

Two hours earlier, Greywolf had found (with zero help from either of her depth sounders) a shallow eight-fathom spot to anchor at the head of Red Bluff Bay.  

Distinctive red rock on one side of the mouth of the bay.  Very un-Alaaskan.

A shore boat, from a handsome pocket cruise ship anchored in the bay, stopped in front of the wide delta known as Bear Meadow, while the guests viewed a brown bear grazing in the tall grass.  

Allie watching the bear on shore and the people watching the bear on shore.

                View from the bow.   Bear Meadow is to the right.  In another week, the salmon would

                           be coming into the stream and the bear would have given up eating grass.

By the time we launched Pup, our inflatable, the cruise ship was getting underway.  We donned life jackets and set out on An Explore.  Of course, we headed for Bear Meadow, but Bear had ambled away.  As we motored down the bay to get “stunning shots” of Greywolf with a waterfall behind her, I spotted Bear, or maybe an entirely Different Bear,  tucked away in the tall grass, selecting tasty morsels.  Most of my attempts at photos resulted in bear ass shots, (I know...) but I got a few photos of ears and a nose.  Eventually, Bear left and so did we.

While we were watching Bear, Allie was watching this mom and her babes.

I took one or two pictures of Greywolf with the waterfall behind her, but the “stunning” quality was missing.  The bright ball of fire in the sky sending sparkles all over the surface of the water was much appreciated, but didn’t make for great photography.  We planned to try again in the early evening light.  We didn’t know we’d be focused on other things when we returned. 

We continued toward the mouth of the bay, four miles away, in search of a bear-free island where Allie could poop and play.

Pup has a 9.9 electric-start Honda that came with Greywolf.  He always starts on the first push of the button. So simple, even I can do it. He started as always, but no cooling water appeared.   Doug tipped him up and checked his water intake screens, then took off the cowling to see if there were parts lying all over the top of the engine. Mr. Honda looked fine.  Mr. Honda ran fine.  But Mr. Honda did not pee. Mr. Honda is supposed to pee.

We motored to the mouth of the bay and Doug shut down the now rather warm outboard to row through the rocks and seaweed surrounding the islands where Red Bluff Bay meets Chatham Strait, looking for the best piece of real estate. 

Our choice was was barely more than a rock, but boat-bound dogs are not picky.  Allie bounded out of Pup without noticing that neither of her people scampered over the treacherous seaweed to explore with her.   However, when she reappeared over the crest of the rock and saw her boat and her people apparently abandoning her, (Doug was rowing around the rock to look for a landing spot) she plunged into the water.  Doug rowed toward her, and I was hauling Allie into Pup when we heard the whale.

           See those little dots to the left of the middle island?  One of those is Allie’s rock.

                                                               Allie prior to being abandoned.

At this point, we were not sure Mr. Honda would start or would keep running if he did start. Things get fairly uncomfortable when you can’t pee; he might not be able to concentrate.  Our collapsable oars were finding new ways to collapse.  Pup slued  around the rocks and seaweed.  Greywolf was four miles away.

At least the tide is incoming for another hour, I offered as we contemplated the possibility that we might have to row back to the boat. Then I looked at the long feathery arms of seaweed. Oh. They were flowing out to sea, as were we.  The river and creek at the head of the bay, as well as the many waterfalls we had admired on our Explore, were putting more water into the bay than Chatham Strait’s incoming tide could push in.  The tide was indeed incoming, but the current was outgoing.  We didn’t try to figure out how that worked.

Whhosh.  A second plume of whale exhale appeared at the edge of one of the islands.

He’s going inside the islands.  One of us stated the obvious: Whale was not planning to circle the islands and head back into Chatham Strait.  Dinner was being served at The Red Bluff Bay Cafe that evening and Whale was enjoying the only things on the menu: krill.  

We love watching whales and have not seen many this summer. We love watching  multi-ton whales from our multi-ton boat.  Pup is ten feet long. Tonnage not so much. The whale longer.  Heavier.  Would he know we were there if we did not have a motor?  

With Mr. Honda at low throttle, we followed Whale in the evening sunshine.  Our whale’s plumes told us when to move to the opposite shore. We rarely saw more than a small part of his ample back and the plumes of exhalation. Our whale swam leisurely from one side to the other, eating his way up this steep-sided bay.

Allie was so excited to be in the dinghy spotting rocks, seaweed, leaves, birds, and whales, that I had tied the dinghy painter to her lifejacket.  The painter made it easier to hang onto her and if she launched herself overboard in pursuit of a leaf, I could easily haul her aboard. 

Before it became apparent that Mr. Honda was able to keep running, my mind was taken over by Aliens.  Quick little flashes of impossible WHAT IF scenarios careened by with no spaces between them, unencumbered by the thought process.

  

WHAT IF Whale did notknowewerethereandWhalecameupunderourdinghyandweallfellinthe waterandAlliewastiedyothedinghyandcouldn’tswimtoshore

andAlliedrowned? (The Aliens took no notice of the fact that whales do not behave like this or that we would be in water with Allie if something happened to Pup.  Aliens do not deal with facts.)

WHAT IF Whale did notknowwewerethereandWhalecameupunderourdinghyandweallfellinthewaterandAlliewastiedtotheboatandWhalechompedthroughthe

dinghypainterandatethedog?

WHAT IF I

haduntiedthedinghypainterandWhaledidnotknowwe werethereandWhalecamupunderourboatandweallfellinthewaterand Allieswamtoshoreandhadnowheretogointhetreesandbrushand...

(I did not share these scenarios with Doug, although maybe I should have.  The reminder that he was living with an irrational woman would have taken his mind off Mr. Honda's ills.)

At this point, the Aliens were exhausted from laughing, and retreated, returning me to the beautiful evening and beautiful experience.

Our four-mile trip was like floating out of time.  The mountains, trees, sun, water, and whale absorbed us.

When we got to the head of the bay, our whale swam around Greywolf, then headed for the far side.  As we tied up Pup, Whale came closer, gave us a goodbye flip of his tail and swam away.





We had heard on our previous two trips to Southeast that Red Bluff Bay was a wonderful place, not to be missed.  We now add our endorsement and our gratitude for this day.