Sat Jun 11 2022
Ketchikan claims to be Alaska’s 1st city, as well as the salmon capital of the world. Who are we to argue with such claims? For sure when a boat arrives from Canadian waters Ketchikan is where you clear in to US Customs and Immigration. Ketchikan is apparently Alaska’s 4th largest city (I suppose by population), the average rainfall is 12.5 feet per year, the average temperature in January is 32.6 degrees Fahrenheit and in July it’s 57.5 degrees. How about that for gee whiz figures? It looked like there was dockage for 4 cruise ships at a time, but during our 2 night stay there were never more than 3 at a time.
When we were about 16 miles South of Ketchikan we completed the CBP Roam App to let US Customs and Border Protection know we were on the way. We had paid for the annual sticker for the boat and so Sunset and the two of us were “in the system”. Soon after doing our thing online the phone rang and a very friendly and courteous CBP officer interviewed us, asking about ourselves, the vessel, where we’d been, what we had on board, etc. and then welcomed us back to the US, no physical inspection required. Seems the cruise ships and the occasional flights keep the officers there pretty busy, but had we not gotten ourselves sorted out ahead of time they would likely have had to inspect us. Nice to get that out of the way.
After our “check the blocks” tour on our first afternoon, we decided the next order of business was to catch up on personal business. For us that requires good internet access, so we hiked about 1.5 miles up a long hill to the public library where it’s dry and warm and the wifi is complimentary, just like the Nanaimo public library where Greg’s wife Mary works. The Ketchikan public library was a really nice facility and we found a small conference room where we could sit comfortably and do our thing with the door shut so we wouldn’t disturb others. Isabel and I both believe our taxes should pay for good public libraries, one of the ways to help level the playing field between wealthy and poor.
The other imperative in Ketchikan was to purchase fishing licenses so we could legally deploy our tackle and crab traps. For a mere $100 each we were made legal for the remainder of 2022. We purchased some fresh veggies and greens at a supermarket near the marina and enjoyed a meal aboard along with a little fresh Netflix. Ever watched Bridgerton? If your wife is from England, it’s good fun to ponder the ridiculous culture of their society back in the 1800s.
What becomes apparent as we move further North is that it’s light when we wake up, and it’s light when we go to bed. We’re pretty early risers, usually up before 0600, so we generally retire to bed around 2130. Isabel purchased us both sleeping masks since we don’t have blackout curtains in our master cabin, and they’ve turned out to be smart investments. There’s a lot of rain and gray, but on the sunny days it’s very bright for more hours than either of us care to be awake. Seems awful to waste sunlight, but sleep is one of our favorites hobbies. Having spent a couple of years living near the equator with about 12 hours of daylight and very short dawn and dusk periods, it’s a heck of a change.
One of the attractions of Ketchikan is that the price of fuel is a good bit lower than Prince Rupert, where those friendly Canadians have some rather unfriendly taxes. Alaska is a big oil producer, in fact state residents get some sort of annual stipend related to the state’s natural resource revenues, but I don’t know if it’s enough money to pay for the cold and rain gear one would need to survive outdoors, or the elevated prices for goods and services. After spending several months in Port Townsend and two years in French Polynesia before that, things didn’t seem expensive to us. On Sunday morning when we pulled up to the Petro Marine fuel dock to fill our tanks with 269 gallons of diesel at $5.25/gallon, I asked the attendant where the fuel came from and he told me it was barged up from Seattle. How about that? It’s hard to believe that Alaska wouldn’t have any refining facilities, so perhaps it’s just another one of those supply chain mysteries. Still, it was cheaper to buy fuel in Ketchikan than in Port Townsend, even after being transported 800 miles or so. Go figure.
We departed the fuel dock and headed up the Clarence Strait for Meyers Chuck, a totally cool little settlement on an island with a very protected small bay. There were perhaps 20 houses there, mostly summer escape places, but apparently 6 folks stay there year around. The only way to come and go is by boat or seaplane. Everyone has to make their own electrical power but there is a community water supply. Because of the limited number of residents and the large tidal flows, the houses are legally allowed to pipe their raw sewage into the bay, no septic systems required. Meyers Chuck had a nice long pontoon installed by the state, no fee required, so we chugged on in through the narrow entrance and tied ourselves right up. Soon thereafter a pair of other trawlers joined us, then a younger couple on a sailboat. Michael McCoy and Heidi Armovit on MV Sea Esta, Joe and Nancy Summers on MV Harbor Lark, and Pat and Camille along with their dog Millie on SV Tarooki. Nice bunch of folks, so we had a dock happy hour to get to know one another. Naturally that included tours of one another’s boats as desired, as we’re all curious about how they are built and equipped.
Earlier that day we had met a local fellow named Kurt as he was mooring his sport fishing boat. Kurt hails from Portland where he has a roofing business and he had managed to find a place for sale at Meyers Chuck. He showed Isabel and myself along with Pat and Camille the path to the local beach and along the way offered us a tour of his place. It was awesome, a rustic cabin but lots of windows and full of stuffed animal heads inside. The previous owner must have been a big time hunter. Kurt showed me his newly installed solar array and LiFeP04 battery storage system, and he explained that when the residents leave for the winter they have to put “bear boards” over their windows and doors. That’s large sheets of plywood with zillions of nails driven through them to “deter” Mr. Bear from trying to break in.
Meyer’s Chuck was an awesome stop, and if I understood it correctly “chuck’ means a small bay that dries out at low tide.
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