Sea Kayaking in Prince William Sound builds comraderie between Challenge Alaska and Forest Service members

By Dave Sanders
Special to the TurnagainTimes

Prince William Sound is renowned as one of the finest places on earth to explore by sea kayak. Its wilderness labyrinth of densely forested islands and passages are ensconced within steep walled fiords laced with sinuous waterfalls dangling like white shoestrings over the precipitous heights. The myriad of passages, coves and islands hide secret beaches and campsites providing a wilderness experience unique to North America.

Perhaps surprising to many, this rugged landscape is accessible to those with disabilities. Challenge Alaska, a well recognized adaptive recreation organization based in Anchorage, and the Chugach National Forest have partnered since 2004 to bring a group of intrepid adventurers with physical disabilities into this maritime wilderness each summer for four days of camping, kayaking, skill building and camaraderie.

During the peak of summer in June, Brandon Harker and Lauren Williams both Challenge Alaska interns embarked on a four-day trip out on the Sound. They took a long look at the line of bergs about a mile away and Brandon said in his distinctive Minnesota accent “boy, it seems like there's a pretty good current coming out of that lagoon and those bergs are really moving fast.” Although not familiar with coastal Alaska, years of canoeing have taught Brandon to respect the power of moving water.

Challenge Alaska's certified therapeutic recreation specialists Leah Stiebing and Jeff Dick as well as Heather Hall, the Chugach National Forests zone archeologist, agreed and an instructive discussion ensued about how we were going to tackle the tricky lagoon entrance. This is the type of knowledge that is needed to safely travel by kayak in Prince William Sound and the participants on the Challenge Alaska sea kayak trip would soon be gaining this knowledge by practical application in a real world setting.

We had been carefully observing this twice daily parade of ice as the tide ebbed and flooded, emptying and filling the berg laden lagoon. We watched the bergs pirouette around one another in a timeless dance not just because it was a beautiful and mesmerizing performance but out of necessity. We needed to come up with a plan for safely entering and exiting the narrow strait where the water runs back and forth in opposite directions twice a day, like a river that just can't make up its mind. This iceberg filled “skookumchuck” as locals call it, presented the most daunting challenge for the days paddle.

After consulting the tide tables and comparing the conditions in the strait to what the numbers on the tide chart showed we formulated our plan. We would wait until just after slack low tide and enter the lagoon right as the flooding tide started to refill it. This would allow us to enter with the current at flow rate that would be manageable and safe. At peak flow, during mid-tide the entrance can produce very strong currents and even standing waves that combined with icebergs and cold water makes for a committing situation that needs to be approached with respect. We weren't going to fight these powerful forces, instead we were going to slip in at just the right time and let the forces of nature work with us. Understanding these natural processes and being humble to their power but judicious in harnessing it is something we want participants to appreciate.

Derickson Spit is a mile long terminal moraine composed of gravel bulldozed into place over the millennia by the Nellie Juan Glacier. Due to glacial recession the moraine is now exposed and vegetated providing an excellent place to camp within view of the ice.

This boulder-strewn spit however is not an easy beach to land and launch a kayak. Our immediate challenge was to get Skyler, who was recently paralyzed, down to the shore and secured in the customized middle hatch of our big triple kayak which is brought along especially for this purpose. Skyler has limited mobility below the neck but with some adaptive augmentation of the middle cockpit using a combination of therma-rest loungers, closed cell foam pads, duct tape, zip ties, wire and rope, all of which are essential to any true “Alaskans” gear kit, we managed to create a comfortable, supportive base from which he could paddle. After an inspirational group effort we were able to transport the entire triple kayak with Skyler aboard over 50 yards of slippery, cantaloupe-sized boulders and into the water.

After Skyler was comfortably settled in the kayak we turned our attention to assisting our other participants, who included Stephanie, a single leg amputee, Nick a paraplegic, Ally who has cerebral palsy and Charlie who is blind. As it turned out little assistance was needed. During the course of getting Skyler settled, Stephanie, Nick and Charlie, all trip veterans and Ally had managed to make it down to the kayaks over the difficult terrain on their own.

While being helped into the kayaks they were in turn providing encouragement and advice to some of trip assistants who had never kayaked previously. Andrew and Dan from the militaries wounded warriors program were a great help as was Sam, Skylers loyal best friend and personal care attendant and Kate Walker, our district ranger new to Alaska from Montana.

After a few adjustments and a final safety review the group cast off heading for the lagoon entrance. Traveling in a tight group we rounded the point and hung just outside the straits entrance in an eddy. A group of harlequin ducks, spooked by our sudden appearance, scuttled away in a flurry of flapping wings, nasal grunts and beating feet.

At the entrance we could see that low slack tide had just began to shift and, as planned, the water was noticeably moving into the lagoon rather than out as it had been two hours earlier. This was exactly the condition we were waiting for, not too fast and not too slow, just enough for a good, steady push. After a final check to see that everyone was ready for the ride into the lagoon we stroked ahead and immediately felt the surging power of moving water at our sterns as we entered the narrow, river like channel.

The group stayed in formation in a tight line behind the leader as instructed using rudder steering and paddle strokes to navigate past a large boulder, nearly invisible beneath the silt-laden waters. Ice bergs joined us but we gave them a wide berth knowing that 80 or so percent of their bulk lurked beneath the surface and that they could roll over at anytime in the moving water. The current faded and the lagoon opened up before us presenting a maze of icebergs ranging in size from something you could put in a drink to something that would easily crush a motor home. We navigated through this shifting mass of ice listening to the crackle and pop of untold millions of air bubbles escaping from their 10,000-year confinement feeling as if we were paddling through a gigantic bowl of Rice Crispies.

Seals surfaced on all sides of our group, curiously inspecting us with their dark, bulging eyes sometimes slapping the water with their hind flippers in alarm as they dove beneath the surface. Spotting a beach and an opportunity to rest our sore muscles we picked a route through the bergs and landed. The beach proved to be amenable for a much deserved lunch break and provided a first rate view of the sweeping, icy flanks and deep blue face of the Nellie Juan Glacier.

A low rumble was occasionally audible and after determining that it was not anyone's stomach we realized it was the sound made by an unimaginable volume of ice grinding over rock. Hearing the sound and seeing its source and then taking in the primordial and austerely beautiful landscape that has been shaped by these forces is a humbling experience.

After refueling our internal engines with food and warm drinks we set off again to get an up close, but not too close, look at the glaciers towering ice face. We steadily approached the glacier, pulling against the gathering force of wind issuing from its icy lungs.

The wind seemed to indicate to us that the glacier did not intend to bestow upon us a view without a price. Finally we made it to a point where the glaciers formidable, deeply fissured face was clearly visible. Its icy creases, broken ridges, gaping holes and twisted ice formations indicated a visage distorted by extreme pressure the result of a savage, timeless battle between the forces of ice, rock and sea.

Leaving the glaciers face we traveled back in time as the shore changed from bare rock to moss and then to alders and willows and finally to the spruce and hemlock forests that dominate most of Prince William Sound.

After six hours exploring the lagoon, the tide, as planned was just beginning to pour back out into Port Nellie Juan. We caught this ebbing flow and marveled at how different the entrance looked now that the gravel bars and moraines, which were exposed during our entrance were now covered under many feet of water.

One last surprise awaited us as we glided serenely out of the lagoon. A robust black bear with sleek shiny fur and a roundish frame was spotted. We approached quietly for a view. The bear was characteristically engrossed with foraging for fresh grass shoots and since the winds were favorable he did not notice our approach. Soon we were within a stone's throw of him and yet safe in our kayaks floating in deep water. After a while he caught a whiff of our scent and stared in our direction, testing the air with his sensitive nose. Seemingly unconcerned he unhurriedly shuffled off into the uplands and feeling we had just topped off the day in the best way possible we headed for camp.

Clambering out of the cramped kayaks we all felt mildly chilled and damp and were ready for a hot dinner, dry tents and cozy sleeping bags. Around the campfire that night there was an aura of accomplishment and contentment among the group. Eyes glinted and wind kissed faces crinkled in laughter and smiles as the adventures of the day were retold in the warm glow of a wilderness campfire. Over the last four days we had become a tribe of sorts.

We had learned to rely on one another to overcome challenges that would have proven insurmountable as an individual but were manageable as a team. Wilderness has a different meaning to many but a common theme to all. Its ability to bring people together to achieve a common goal, to increase confidence and self-reliance, to humble and to inspire are what it offers to people who choose to seek personal growth in its wild expanse.

Challenge is synonymous with Wilderness, in fact the word challenge is written into the Wilderness Act of 1964 where it states that “Wilderness is a place where opportunities for challenge and risk will remain.” Some people will choose to never expose themselves to the rigors that Wilderness travel entails but those who do often come away with a newfound appreciation for themselves, for others and most importantly for the values of working together as a group to accomplish something meaningful.

The Challenge Alaska sea kayak adventure accomplishes all of this and more. It is understood that the nature of wild places is such that all people can't expect to access all places. However, where the opportunity presents itself and where the desire is strong enough to overcome obstacles these special places can be visited by people with disabilities. With a little help, creativity and encouragement, nearly all people can experience Wilderness and we are truly fortunate to have such an accessible opportunity right in our own back yard.

Dave Sanders works for the Chugach National Forest Glacier Ranger District as a Backcountry Ranger Program Coordinator.