Southeast Alaska Adventure: Sea Kayaking Sitka

I wake up excited for today's scheduled sea kayaking trip with Sitka Sound Ocean Adventures, thankful that yesterday's drenching rain has subsided. Although rain doesn't stop true Pacific Northwesterners and SE Alaskans from getting outside, I'm glad for the break in the weather. 

Kayaking in Sitka Sound again has been on my list since my first trip kayaking here 5 years ago. It's my third and last day in beautiful, friendly Sitka, Alaska, before catching the ferry home to Washington, so I'm saving the best for last.

When I arrive at Sitka Sound Ocean Adventures' big blue bus at Crescent Harbor for the 3.5-hour guided Island Paddle & Lost Fort Trek, Dave and Lydia from Indiana, the other two signed up for today's trip, are already here getting ready.

"Did you bring rain pants?" asks owner Alison Dunlap, who hands me a pair of paddling pants that fit perfectly. Soon we're down on the boat launch, getting the run-down on paddling safety and kayak handling from our guide Chris.

After launching into Sitka Sound, Chris guides us out and around the jetty into the smooth water. As we ease past several houses clinging to little islands and rock outcrops, barely above the high tide line, I wonder how they'll fare with rising sea levels and higher tides (already happening down south).

Suddenly a huge whiskered brown head pops up above the water's surface about 10 feet away, a curious Steller sea lion. With a big huff exhale, it disappears, then pops up again on the other side of my kayak.

"Should we be scared?" says Dave.

"No," replies Chris calmly. "He's just checking us out."

As we paddle farther out along the edge of the airport runway on Japonski Island toward the wild outer edge of Sitka Sound, the ocean swells pick up and break in big splashes against the rocky shoreline and shoals.

With unpredictable weather and considering Dave's recent shoulder surgery, Chris makes the call to turn back and travel on the inside rather than the outside of Japonski Island, where it's protected.

We're heading to Fort Rousseau Causeway State Historical Park, a remnant  U.S. Army installation of old bunkers and artillery platforms from World War II. The Fort Rousseau Causeway, a series of interconnected islands, is part of the Sitka Naval Operating Base and U.S. Army Coastal Defenses National Historic Landmark.

Enroute through Sitka Channel, we pass the city's low-rise waterfront lined with lots and lots of boats. After all, Sitka is on an island and unreachable via road from the mainland.

"Is that the Maverick from the Deadliest Catch?" asks Lydia, pointing to a big black boat ahead. Chris confirms that it is indeed. Since I've never seen that show, the excitement is lost on me.

When we clear Japonski Island, the park is dead ahead, low on the horizon. Chris points out where we'll be landing at a beach.  Originally it was several smaller islands close together, but the U.S. Army connected them via constructed causeways.

As soon as we land and walk up the beach to level ground above, there's an old concrete bunker built into the island, covered in the lush vegetation that grows quickly here in this rainy climate.

Before we explore, it's time for a cookie break. Grandma Dixie's delicious homemade cookies are a well-known highlight of each Sitka Sound Ocean Adventure guided trip. In the spirit of a true family business, Dixie is co-owner Alison Dunlap's mom. (Alison co-owns with her husband John and their three children are also part of their team.) My ginger molasses chocolate chip cookie is the best! But I think Chris might say the peanut butter is the best...or Lydia might say the cherry oatmeal.

Chris went for the peanut butter cookie.

Fueled up on carbs and sugar, we follow Chris along the causeway and into the woods, where we have to watch each step to avoid the many fat and happy banana slugs all over the pathway. (If a slug can love, I bet they loved yesterday's rain.) For Midwesterners Dave and Lydia, this Northwest Coast native is a novelty.

 

After we transition from thick stands of alder and salmonberry into moss-carpeted young Sitka spruce forest, Chris tells us to put on the headlamps he provided and points to a bunker opening in the woods. We step single-file into the dank, dark bunker hallway, watching out for tangled old electric wiring and debris on the floor.

As I glance down, the beam of my headlamp catches something shiny and greenish, larger than a huge beetle, scurrying past my feet. It's all I can do to not squeal and jump. Slugs are slimy, but they don't scurry.

"Centipede," says Dave. A light-deprived centipede for sure.

Inside the bunker, where I didn't get any decent shots, it's a bit claustrophobic. I wouldn't want to spend a night in here, which the soldiers likely did for weeks or months on end. I'm glad to emerge back into the daylight and inhale the fresh sea salty air.

If you're interested in military history during World War II and Sitka's role,  read more about this site and area here.

Our paddle back goes quickly, with little breeze and a somewhat brighter sky. It's Sitka, land of "many shades of gray," so clouds still hover overhead.

Too soon we're back on land, this fun "soft" adventure over. Alison hands me something I forgot at the Bay View Pub last night, now returned safely via several honest, helpful Sitkans, and I can't resist giving her a hug. Maybe it's not just for something returned, but also perhaps Alison with her amiable, competent, engaging manner represents Sitka to me and its easy, friendly spirit.

Thanks to Chris for being an enthusiastic and capable guide, to Dave and Lydia for wearing bright colors that popped well against the gray sky and water in these photos, and special thanks to Alison. You're the best! 

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news.

When You Go
Sitka Sound Ocean Adventures offers several guided trips as well as kayak rentals and transport for longer expeditions. The weather will be what it will be, but bring rain gear just in case. We paddled in roomy and stable double kayaks, the norm for the guided trips. They provide a small bottle of water and a big cookie, but you might want to bring your own water to supplement.

Kayaking the Lower Stillaguamish River: Eagles, Aromas, and Baby Rapids

I don't know about you, but I love going places I've never been before and seeing the world from a new perspective. Even if it's just walking down a different street in the neighborhood that I've somehow bypassed, I still feel that little surge, the thrill of discovery.

So when a last-minute spot opens up on a kayaking trip down the lower Stillaguamish River (aka the "Stilly") in northwest Washington, I sign up quickly. While I've hiked along the Stilly and driven along and over it many times, I've never been on the river.

Summer chose just the right day to return after a week+ of Pacific Northwest Juneuary. As I drive north from Seattle on I-5, thankfully traffic-free on a Sunday morning, the sky glows powder blue and cloud-free. Temps are predicted to hit the mid 70s F. 

Just about perfect.

After a 45-minute drive, I pull into the Haller Park put-in area in Arlington, where friendly trip leader Phyllis greets me. Others are already here unloading kayaks and gearing up, about 10 of us total on this Seattle Area Sea Kayaking Meetup Group trip.

Loading and adjusting a kayak before the trip.

The Stilly starts as two forks in the Cascade Mountains, and the North and South forks converge just upriver from where we're starting today. From here we'll pass through rural lowlands and end up at the Hat Slough take-out, for 16 total river miles. Not far beyond, the river flows into Puget Sound.

Before we launch, Phyllis tells us about two points along the river to watch out for. In the first few miles, we'll reach a rapid where we'll stop and portage (carry our boats). Then at a junction just below the I-5 bridge, we need to stay river right to avoid going over a small dam. Nope, that would not be fun for us sea kayakers.

Since the river has cleared the foothills by this point, we meander along a mostly mellow channel flanked by green. Pretty flat overall, but we pass some bluffs along the way.

There's still snowmelt coming off the Cascades, so the river current is decent. We need to keep an eye out for tree/wood snags and rocks in the river. Personally I think it makes the trip more interesting rather than just a lazy float downriver.

Portage

  A couple guys in the group who are also whitewater kayakers can't resist playing in the rapids at the portage.  Captain Kirk (below) has fun darting around the standing waves. (Yes, Kirk is literally a captain and an enthusiastic, accomplished paddler.)

Although I didn't get a decent shot, we hear and see bald eagles along the river. At one point a big eagle watches us pass beneath the big overhanging branch where it's perched.

I'm also happy to hear the lovely spiraling trill of Swainson's thrush (my totem bird) along and across the river, along with the chatter of kingfishers.

When we stop for lunch at a sand bar, I stumble getting out of the kayak (this is not normal for me!) and end up halfway in the river. My first impression is how pleasant and warm the water is here.

After lunch it's more of the same: pleasant, mostly mild water, lush green along the riverbanks, and lots of bird calls. After we pass under the I-5 bridge, we all hang right into a side slough to avoid the dam. 



Passing under Interstate 5

 My favorite part of the river is the next reach as we meander through the narrower slough, which amplifies the bird calls echoing around us.

However, a little way downriver we're assaulted by the heavy, over-ripe stench of livestock. This follows us off and on through the last stretch of the trip, and it's the only downside of this otherwise splendid day on the river.

Stretch stop

On such a brilliant early summer day, we don't see many people along the river but for a couple flyfishers angling for steelhead and a few families playing on some sand bars. This relative solitude is a nice change from overly crowded hiking trails and other popular destinations around the region.

After this day on the river, during which life's stresses and nagging aches slipped away for a good while, I come away feeling refreshed, tired in a healthy, "earned it" sort of way. I love these words, which capture perfectly a river's spell:

We are never far from the lilt and swirl of living water. Whether to fish or swim or paddle, of only to stand and gaze, to glance as we cross a bridge, all of us are drawn to rivers, all of us happily submit to their spell. We need their familiar mystery. We need their fluent lives interflowing with our own. — John Daniel, Oregon Rivers

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news. 

When You Go
Our trip was 16 river miles, with the put-in at Haller Park in Arlington and take-out at Hat Slough boat launch (links above in this post). We did a car shuttle, with cars at both the put-in and take-out. A Discover Pass is needed to park at the Hat Slough launch. Arlington is about 47 miles north of Seattle.

Phyllis, who organized this Seattle Area Sea Kayaking Meetup Group trip, is President and Director of Education for Shearwater University, specializing in sailing, kayaking, and navigation instruction. Check out the link if you're interested in learning more about kayaking, etc. And If you're an experienced paddler and planning your own trip, be sure and check the river stage.

Saving Wild Salmon: Return to Swamp Creek

 

Salmon have long been the symbol and lifeblood of the people who call the Pacific Northwest home. For the Pacific Northwest Tribes who've been here for thousands of years, millenia before European settlers arrived (and mucked things up), salmon were and still are part of their spiritual and cultural identity.

While I grew up fairly oblivious to the problems facing our wild salmon, I  think it's important to do all we can to restore our wild salmon. Since 2005, Puget Sound Chinook have been listed as Threatened under the Endangered Species Act.

Back in the late 1990s I "adopted" the lower reach of Swamp Creek just upstream of where it flows into the Sammamish River at the north end of Lake Washington (north of Seattle). Swamp Creek historically was a salmon-spawning stream, and today a few stragglers still manage to make their way upstream.

Back then, the land along the creek was in very poor condition for salmon, who need forest cover to shade the water, good water quality, and large wood debris in the water for refuge. In the scanned shot below from 1999, I'm pointing out the lack of trees and abundance of invasive reed canarygrass bracketing the stream.

So I organized a few tree-planting parties through the King County Department of Natural Resources, which provided the baby spruce, western red cedar, and willow trees to plant close to the streambanks.

See the bare, grassy area? No trees!  Also note the flagged baby spruce just planted.

It was a fun group effort, a collaboration of co-workers and their families, friends, and neighbors. And Winnie the golden retriever, who was an enthusiastic tail-wagging cheerleader.

Recently planted spruce seedling. We had to cut back the grass that was trying to overtake it.

Over three plantings we put dozens of trees in the ground. In the intervening years, the land has become a City of Kenmore park and the subject of other, more comprehensive habitat restoration studies and projects.

Every few years I like to paddle upstream to check out the trees we planted. In 2010 I blogged about Swamp Creek. So here I am again.

This past Sunday my friend Julie and I, both involved in the 1998 planting parties, paddled up Swamp Creek on a lovely, bluebird almost-summer day. And the spruce trees!

Notice the healthy spruce trees on the right. We planted those!

Although conditions are still far from perfect, many of the spruce we planted are thriving and shading the stream banks. Only a few of the many cedar trees we planted have survived.

We can't paddle upstream as far as we used to because of downed trees in the water, a good thing for fish.

After almost 20 years, the new forest is starting to take shape along Swamp Creek.  But high water temperatures and low water levels the last two years due to record-setting heat have put a damper on salmon recovery efforts overall.

As usual we saw lots of cool birds and waterfowl, from abundant red-winged black birds, to chatty belted kingfishers, to awkwardly elegant great blue herons.

Besides the restoration aspect, it's very peaceful and soothing to paddle up Swamp Creek. In this region of close to 4 million people and growing, it's a quiet natural place, something to treasure.

It's very rewarding to see a forest emerging where there used to be mostly invasive grass. I look forward to going back again in a year or two. 


Let's hope more wild salmon find their way back too.

Happy trails and thanks for visiting Pacific Northwest Seasons! In between blog posts, visit Pacific NW Seasons on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram for more Northwest photos and outdoors news. 

When You Go
You can access lower Swamp Creek by foot or hand-powered watercraft. We put in at the boat launch in Kenmore just off the 64th Street/Juanita Drive bridge. A Discover Pass is needed to park there. From the boat launch, we paddled up the Sammamish Slough/River about 1/4 mile to the mouth of Swamp Creek and on up.

Across the region there are lots of opportunities to volunteer to help restore salmon streams, even if just for a few hours or a day. A typical event includes clearing non-native, invasive plants and planting native plants and trees along streambanks, which improves habitat for salmon and their chances of spawning and survival.  Here are some links, but you can also do a Web search for opportunities near you: People for Puget Sound, Oregon Watersheds, King County (Washington), and River Restoration Northwest.