Day 1: Sundew Point to Skidmore Bay and Charpentier Inlet

    After the Baranof Wind pulled away, and Gavin and I gathered our thoughts, we began packing the kayak.  Two small green stuff sacks were shoved in the bow and stern of the kayak, the five bear barrels were placed behind my seat; a gallon of white gas, the dromedary, and the tripod sat behind Gavin's seat.  Our sleeping bags and pads--kept in a dry bag--were shoved in the nose of the kayak and our remaining gear was lassoed down on top of the boat.  Gavin placed the park map beneath the bungees on top of the kayak and proudly wore a compass around his neck--throughout the trip, Gavin was the master-navigator.
     Gavin was also in charge of the rudder--a foreign feature found on sea kayaks to which avid canoeist have difficulty adjusting.  My role in this kayaking venture was to paddle.  I was in charge of pushing the paddle through the water and building up endurance while struggling against wind, tides, and some hair-raising waves.  In other words, Gavin had the brains, the logic, and I had the brawn.
     As soon as we pushed off shore on our rainy first day, we were instantly surrounded by marine wildlife.  A few yards away a humpback whale spouted--welcoming us to his territory.  We also came across skittish seals who would pop up in our path, look around, and then sink below the surface.  On our first paddle we also saw a few harbor porpoises jump through the water in search of a meal.  The water was teeming with life and the scenery was beautiful (and rainy).
     Our first day was mainly spent figuring out the kayak and working out all of the kinks with the rudder.  After we left Sundew Cove--our drop-off point--we paddled into the Hugh Miller Inlet and then traveled a scant four miles before plopping on a swath of land located at the junction of Skidmore Bay and Charpentier Inlet.  The campsite we found was beautiful and in close proximity to fresh water.  The beach was littered with shells and remnants of sea urchins and the wooded areas were covered in moose pellets (which meant there was a good chance of having some large visitors).  Since it was pouring, cold, and we were exhausted from a long day, Gavin and I unpacked our gear, set-up the tent, and crawled inside.
     As the rain was still coming down steadily, we were quickly reminded about our leaky tent.  Recognizing that a wet tent could equal a wet sleeping bag, which could equal hypothermia, which--as we were miles away from humanity--could equal death, I used my creativity and wove our tarp in between the tent body and the fly.  Our tent became waterproof once again.  After peeling off our wet clothes and nodding at the fact that Gore-tex is not really as waterproof as it claims to be, Gavin and I crawled into our bags and bid the day adieu.
       Suddenly, Gavin remembered that there was a pack of gum shoved in the front of the backpack which had been sheltered beneath the tent vestibule.  Since rule #1 of backcountry camping is to have all scented items far away from one's tent and in a bear barrel, Gavin begrudgingly slipped into his Gortex jacket and hiked to the bear vault.  Minutes later, Gavin burst back into the tent, his Gore-tex jacket rain slicked, and prepared to climb back into bed.  Before doing so, he checked the backpack one more time to ensure all food items were placed in the barrels.  Unfortunately--and this is a mistake for which I am still paying--an orange had been left in the front of the bag.

*Flashback to the Baranof Wind:  Lunch on the boat consisted of a sandwich, a bag of chips, and a choice of fruit.  By the time I consumed my sandwich and the bread from Gavin's, I was stuffed and decided to return both the bag of chips and the orange.  As per Gavin's suggestion, I shoved the orange in the front of the backpack to be consumed as a high-sugar snack at a later time.

      As soon as Gavin reached into the bag and retrieved the orange, his eyes flashed angrily at mine and the memory of the ordeal on the Baranof Wind washed over me.  The orange.  Why hadn't I remembered the orange?  I offered wildly to dispose of the orange in one of the vaults, but Gavin simply shook his head and stomped out of the tent, into the rain and 50 degree weather, again.  When he returned I apologized profusely and we both hunkered down for a peaceful, warm night.

        In that moment, it became starkly clear that I was a neophyte in the backcountry and that in order to make it out alive, I would have to pay close attention to everything at all times.  Unfortunately, since I was still learning how to navigate my way in the wilderness, there were a few mistakes prior to the 'orange incident' and there would be a few more to come.  Luckily, Gavin and I were dry, warm, happy, and still had the taste for adventure.  

The last photo our point and shoot camera took before biting the dust.  Here, wind-whipped and rain-slicked Gavin loads the kayak before pushing onward to adventure!