July 8 – 9 -- Crossing Dixon Entrance. Alaska at last.

After a stormy, uncomfortable night at the dock, it’s another cold, drizzly day. goodbye hugs and We creep out of Rushbrook Marina at O-dark-thirty, withwaves to a sleepy Tangleberry crew. Venn Pass out of Prince Rupert is a tricky, but well-marked shortcut, and we are pleased to see fishboat traffic we can follow heading out in front of us. Cruising friends Pierre and Danielle on Lyla are not far behind.

We are almost out of cell phone range when Cliff phones US Customs and Immigration requesting permission to stop overnight at Foggy Bay, AK, before clearing in at Ketchikan.

Dixon Entrance is the most daunting piece of water we have had to traverse, being open to the North Pacific for twenty-five miles. The swells and chop today are not bad, and we motorsail across with no problems. We sing “O Say Can You See” as we cross the border, and we are in Foggy Bay, a quiet anchorage, by lunchtime. On the beach, rooting for food, we see a big brown bear (relative of a grizzly), and later a smaller black bear. We have an afternoon snooze, an early dinner, play a game of Scrabble, and hit the sack early.

Next morning we complete the trip to Ketchikan. For the first while the water is rougher than yesterday, a most inopportune time for our holding tank to back up. Fortunately the seasick pill I took holds until the mess is cleaned up. Then the pass narrows, the water smoothes out, and we motor in comfort to Tongass Narrows.

Suddenly, OH MY GOODNESS!, there are cruise ships and seaplanes and ferries everywhere in this narrow channel! An official-looking inflatable roars along beside a cruise ship, machine gun manned, daring anyone to make a threatening move. Vancouver Harbour was never like this! We approach the fuel dock but have to wait our turn, it starts to pour, we are in the seaplane runway, the noise is deafening – give us Dixon Entrance anytime!! Our friends on Lyla cross behind an arriving cruise ship to find themselves in front of one departing! Lyla almost becomes sandwich meat.

We are finally tied up at Bar Harbor Marina having a relaxing cup of tea, when the US Customs officer arrives to check us in. “Are you the gentleman who woke me up at 4:30 a.m. yesterday to ask for permission to stay in Foggy Bay?” he inquires. Oh, oh, this is not starting well. But he turns out to be an exceptionally nice customs officer, and doesn’t even ask if we are bringing in contraband beef or citrus (we are). Pierre and Danielle had not asked for permission to stay in Foggy Bay, and they had their knuckles severely rapped.

Ketchikan is built on a steep island, so it is about four blocks deep and ten miles long. We are surprised to see how far along the shore development stretches. The town capitalizes on its gold rush history, still having many older buildings and new ones sporting false fronts and hitching posts. The long walk from our marina to town is along a commercial street, but once we reach the downtown cruise ship area, we think, “Hey, we’ve been here before!”-- Virgin Islands, Nassau, Puerto Rico, Grenada, etc. The only difference is the weather and the name embroidered on the t-shirts!

We treat ourselves to a salmon dinner at Annabelle’s and hike back through the rain to the boat.