We did it! We made it to Alaska! We started to believe that we could do it when we were approaching Prince Rupert, but with the wind, seas and fog up here, it never feels like it’s a sure thing until it happens, but it did. As we crossed into Alaskan waters, Patrick toasted our arrival with an international blend of Jack Daniels and Canadian whiskey (which was surprisingly good, by the way …)
Our last anchorage before that was in the Khutzeymateen Grizzly Bear Sanctuary, a preserve that is now surrounded by a conservancy area, and home to an estimated 50-60 grizzly bears. We spent two nights there, anchored in a corner of the “L” shaped inlet. One leg of the ‘L’ looked out toward the entrance to the inlet and the other gave us a vista of a huge, bare granite miuntain that sloped down toward the grassy meadow at the head of the inlet. We took our dinghy all around the inlet, spying out and watching bears as they grazed on sedge grass in the sunshine. I was interested to learn that grizzlies (or brown bears, as they are commonly known in Canada) make grasses and roots a large part of their diet, especially in the spring after hibernation. During the summer they tend to move to higher elevations to enjoy the ripening berries. Of course, late summer brings them back to the salmon streams to gorge on the fattiest parts of salmon in preparation for their long winter nap.
One bear’s territory was quite near our anchorage. He meandered along the sedge grass meadow yanking and chewing mouthful after mouthful of grass. Occasionally he stopped and sat down, taking a break in the heat. At one point he waded into the water and proceeded to groom the fur around his neck with his big claws, and duck low to wash his face with his huge paws. We could only imagine that with his thick fur, the cool water felt wonderful, though we hoped he didn’t decide to take a longer swim, as we were watching him from the dinghy!
We spotted a younger bear, still slim and showing some ribs, clambering over and around the boulders scattered in the outlet of a salmon stream. He must have wondered where the salmon were, but we knew. We could see thousands of them – pink salmon – milling around in the shallow water near the mouth of the creek, awaiting whatever call would tell them it was the moment to head upstream to the spawning grounds. Later that evening Pat rigged his fly rod and caught a pink. We enjoyed it for dinner.
It was our last morning in Grizzlyland, and I was on the bow, pulling up anchor while Patrick flaked the anchor chain into the anchor locker below. The anchor windlass is operated with a large button embedded in
the deck, so I kept one foot on the button, one eye on the anchor chain, and watched for wildlife around us. I was hoping to see our grizzly bear, or perhaps a visiting harbor seal, but instead I spotted what looked like a strange bird swimming toward us from shore. I tried to identify the species, when I realized that I was not looking at a bird, but rather at a pair of antlers coming through the water! A deer was swimming across the inlet. I instantly called Pat to come up on deck. The deer passed within 25 yards of our stern, so close that we could see the fog of his breath on the surface of the water. We watched him, worrying about the freezing cold water, but he was a fine swimmer. We followed his progress until he swam around a point 
where we could no longer see him.
Our last anchorage before that was in the Khutzeymateen Grizzly Bear Sanctuary, a preserve that is now surrounded by a conservancy area, and home to an estimated 50-60 grizzly bears. We spent two nights there, anchored in a corner of the “L” shaped inlet. One leg of the ‘L’ looked out toward the entrance to the inlet and the other gave us a vista of a huge, bare granite miuntain that sloped down toward the grassy meadow at the head of the inlet. We took our dinghy all around the inlet, spying out and watching bears as they grazed on sedge grass in the sunshine. I was interested to learn that grizzlies (or brown bears, as they are commonly known in Canada) make grasses and roots a large part of their diet, especially in the spring after hibernation. During the summer they tend to move to higher elevations to enjoy the ripening berries. Of course, late summer brings them back to the salmon streams to gorge on the fattiest parts of salmon in preparation for their long winter nap.One bear’s territory was quite near our anchorage. He meandered along the sedge grass meadow yanking and chewing mouthful after mouthful of grass. Occasionally he stopped and sat down, taking a break in the heat. At one point he waded into the water and proceeded to groom the fur around his neck with his big claws, and duck low to wash his face with his huge paws. We could only imagine that with his thick fur, the cool water felt wonderful, though we hoped he didn’t decide to take a longer swim, as we were watching him from the dinghy!
We spotted a younger bear, still slim and showing some ribs, clambering over and around the boulders scattered in the outlet of a salmon stream. He must have wondered where the salmon were, but we knew. We could see thousands of them – pink salmon – milling around in the shallow water near the mouth of the creek, awaiting whatever call would tell them it was the moment to head upstream to the spawning grounds. Later that evening Pat rigged his fly rod and caught a pink. We enjoyed it for dinner.
It was our last morning in Grizzlyland, and I was on the bow, pulling up anchor while Patrick flaked the anchor chain into the anchor locker below. The anchor windlass is operated with a large button embedded in
the deck, so I kept one foot on the button, one eye on the anchor chain, and watched for wildlife around us. I was hoping to see our grizzly bear, or perhaps a visiting harbor seal, but instead I spotted what looked like a strange bird swimming toward us from shore. I tried to identify the species, when I realized that I was not looking at a bird, but rather at a pair of antlers coming through the water! A deer was swimming across the inlet. I instantly called Pat to come up on deck. The deer passed within 25 yards of our stern, so close that we could see the fog of his breath on the surface of the water. We watched him, worrying about the freezing cold water, but he was a fine swimmer. We followed his progress until he swam around a point 
where we could no longer see him.On our way up we stopped off to find an old stone and masonry cabin that was one of four built by the original crew that surveyed the Canada/Alaska border. It's roof is gone now, but we could still read the eroding letters on the stone next to the door; it says " ... Property, Port Seattle, Do Not Injure." Since the border was eventually established a few miles northwest of this cabin, someone apparently chiseled out the "U.S." at the beginning. Here I am in the doorway - notice the shorts and the sunshine!
