How to Kayak to Alaska
Overview, guide, reflections, and resources
The Pacific Northwest [PNW] stretches from Oregon to Alaska, and is home to the largest temperate rainforest on earth.
The most geographically complex section, runs from Puget Sound, Washington to Skagway, Alaska. It’s a 1700km maze of jagged mainland and 50 000+ islands. There are more bears, wolves, and whales than people.
The PNW is a haven, laboratory, and testing ground for sea kayakers, sailors, and ocean lovers.
Indigenous Peoples have inhabited this area for over 16, 000 years, and include 50 diverse groups, with distinct languages, culture, and history. They have a profound relationship with the land, and if we (non-indigenous) are to travel through their territory we must understand: we are guests.
Consent: If you do plan to travel through these territories: ask for consent. I didn’t do this on my trip and regret it. Most Nations have a website and general inquiries email where you can send your plan. I recently read of an amazing trip to Yakutat where they emailed all the nation’s. Not all got back to them, but some did.
The Big Why?
Why paddle to Alaska? Why do anything?!
For each of us the why is different. I went to find who I was without company, and develop my relationship to nature — I wanted to heal.I paddled because the ocean is the greatest teacher, and I needed to be humbled. If I didn’t go, I would never know.
I also went because I was battling addiction. And kayaking to Alaska seemed like the ultimate intervention.
Drop everything.
The first step is getting a boat, lifejacket, and paddle. Everything else will fall into place, don’t worry. You might have zero bull kelp under your hull, it doesn’t matter. You can learn anything, if you need to. That’s what being human is all about: learning.
Most of all, you have to push off. Once you take the first stroke, the Pacific will do the rest. This being said, there are significant preparations — that’s what this article is about.
Time wise, you need three months, it took me 90 days on the water. Best months: May, June, July, August, (into September if your going south).
Route picking
This isn’t the PCT or the Appalachian Trail. This is a matrix of 50 000 islands cradled by unforgiving mountains. It’s the Mighty Pacific Ocean. It’s a maze.
There are easy ways, and hard ways. Ways without seeing anyone for a month, and routes where you can restock every week.
The main three:
1. The Inside Passage has significant vessel traffic and a helping hand is always a VHF call away. There are old canneries and settlements to restock and poke around — lots of history.
2. The Middle Passage is less inhabited. It’s protected (mostly) from Pacific swell, and offers the most dynamic, beautiful paddling on planet earth. Because you’re still in channels, you get current boosts.
3. The Outside. Will power is needed. The swell on the outside can be 3–6 metres, and conditions are unpredictable. There are less places to seek refuge and any beach might require a surf landing. But it’s fun. And a bit slow (in terms of speed, and weather windows). If you take the outside you will see things no one else ever will.
Within those three there are infinite combinations. You can weave in and out, testing your capacity and creativity.
North or southbound?
Prevailing winds from the Northwest in the summer can give a helping hand if you head south. This is easy to do, just take the ferry to Skagway or Juneau from Bellingham or Prince Rupert.
Northbound is an uphill battle with early 4 a.m. starts (to avoid the afternoon wind). May and September get strong southerlies making this passage more doable. There is something profound about going north. Because every stroke distances you from humanity (think Into The Wild).
But … how?
You just have to learn (or make sure you know how) to float, not-flip, wet-exit, swim, paddle, roll, re-entry, set-up a tent, camp, light a fire, navigate using marine charts, understand PNW weather systems, use a VHF radio, shoot flares, understand bear dynamics, fish, kelp and berry identification, and tarpology.
Most of all, you have to learn to take care of yourself (yes, it’s a skill), but that happens on the trip.
Except swimming, you could learn all the kayaking stuff in two weeks, especially if you take the AOG (Assistant Overnight Guide) course with Sea Kayak Guides Alliance of BC (SKGABC), or the Paddle Canada courses.
I would say: don’t wing this. You could, and many have, but the stakes are high and human life is precious. It would suck to be lost at sea. Others already have. Do your homework. Practice.
Then, once you have the basics, you will learn everything else along the way. And if you start in the south (gulf islands or San Juan’s), its easy paddling, and you will gain confidence before Cape Caution and the other doozies.
I need more information.
Ok. So first you have to learn how to not-flip. And to do this you have to learn how to flip (wet-exit). You must be comfortable plunging out of the cockpit, and rescuing yourself, or having someone rescue you.
Then you learn stroke and bracing techniques. So you can go where you want to, and not flip when you’re off balance. This takes practice, and it’s better to learn the strokes right, so you don’t develop bad habits. Read stroke how-to’s and find someone to teach you. Do the AOG.
Paddling comfortably is important. It’s a long way and chronic injuries are possible from poor technique.
Warm up in the morning. Stretch in the evening. Take breaks.
What to bring:
This is a question of comfort, capability, and resourcefulness. Some trippers insist on dry suits, toilet paper, coffee, freeze-dried meals, and camp stoves. For my trip, I bought a tent off Craigslist, got a sleeping bag and fleece trousers from Value Village, borrowed a life jacket from my summer camp, and was given a fishing rod at a garage sale.
Sea kayaks don’t really lose their value. I think fiberglass is the way to go, but plastic is cool too. Look online, there are many used boats. Read reviews, research, and talk to other paddlers.
Skeg or rudder? For long hauls, I would say rudder, it gives your feet something to do (seriously, atrophy will take place), and skegs jam and become problematic.
Navigation, safety, and kayak gear: Paddle, extra paddle, spray skirt, life-jacket (one that fits and can securely hold your VHF and a buck knife), two knives, hand pump, VHF radio, flares (not expired), whistle, compass, GPS (optional), headlamp (x2), lighters, fibreglass repair kit, Duct tape, chart atlas, dry bags (you can also use stuff sacks lined with garbage bags (this works better than stiff dry bags in most cases), wetsuit (optional in summer, but also good for snorkeling and catching crabs), dry suit (also optional, I think it’s a hassle for touring)
Camping and comfort: Tent (with a full fly. I usually bring a 3-man size, so I have room to be cozy on rain days. I met people using hammocks; I would rather die, personally. Sleeping bag (down bags don’t do well with moisture, so consider synthetic), air mat (consider a half mat size), tarps (8x6ft is enough for protection and sailing), extra rope (there’s lots on the beach, but consider thin, strong stuff), rain gear, gum boots (In Alaska they have the iconic brown Ketchikan Kicks), toque, neck-warmer, wool socks, wool / fleece everything else.
SPOT: This is a one-way satellite check-in device. It sends a message saying “I-am-OK,” (or whatever you program) along with your location, to pre-set emails. If things go totally-trouble, you can send an SOS to the coast guard. This is a safety measure that’s up to you. There are other options, I prefer the one-way device, So not to be bothered from the outside world, but if you have a family, sharing the trip as you go can be meaningful / necessary.
First aid kit (allergy meds, bandages, triangle sling, polysporin, scissors, tweezers, oil of oregano, tea tree oil (anti-viral and antifungal))
Extras: Books (on my big trip I had 15kg of books, now I have a kindle), an instrument (think a recorder or harmonica. Bull kelp makes a good didgeridoo), plant, and animal ID books (more on wild harvesting below), a journal (more below), watercolours (required), and whatever bits and bobs make you whole.
Don’t go overboard with tech. You could bring solar rechargers, Bluetooth speakers, and have a dance party the whole time. You can even bring satellite connection and work from your tent, or blog daily. But for me, the whole point is to disconnect, and create an intervention that goes deep enough to rewire the soul and break city habits.
The point is to give yourself an honest chance at healing. If you bring gizmos, the temptation is too much, and you might not sever the umbilical cord from Old You.
Weather
Your body and its five senses can forecast the weather, but this takes years of calibration. For those of us who are numb and grew up in the city, there are repeater towers broadcasting the marine weather forecast. You will need a VHF (Very High Frequency) radio, and understanding of the lingo. To be honest, it’s an alien language. There is a 2-day course for this[D4] .
There are weather stations, regions, and buoys up and down the coast, forecasting: 1. Wind speed and direction 2. Swell height and sea state 3. Pressure 4. Precipitation and 5. Sky state.
It will also give you a general pressure system overview. High pressure = Northwesterlies and sun. Low pressure = southeasterlies and rain. It’s not so simple. Especially when encountering the fronts of systems. Don’t leave home without getting a copy of the kayak bible.
Practice listening to the weather before you go, and jot down everything in your journal. Yes, bring a journal and track everything. All captains keep a log.
To make good decisions, take into account the weather regions above and below you, what the pressure system is doing, and what your own eyes tell you. When in doubt: stay put. Especially if you are solo.
Tides
Tides on the coast of B.C. and AK can be greater than 10 meters, some of the biggest in the world (#1 is the Bay of Fundy — 15m). The PNW has a mixed tide cycle, which means two highs and two lows each day. These are a function of the Earth’s position and distance from the moon and sun (see diagram).
Basically, the moon and sun are in a gravity tug-o-war with the earth, and the oceans are caught in between — flip-flopping.
There are tide tables; learn to read them. And keep track by checking the tide lines (where the kelp is washed up)
Tides level two:
Why are tides greater on the full and new moon? The moon takes 28 days to orbit earth, and lines-up with the sun twice each cycle. When lunar and solar tides coincide, it magnifies the tug — making the oceans rise higher and thus, that much closer to touching the moon. Neap tides, are when sun and moon cancel each other out, spring tides are when highs and lows maxed.
Currents
Currents are created from the tides going up faster in one area, and the water rushing to reach equilibrium on the other side of a narrow bottleneck. Visualize a 30m wide river that encounters a 5m constriction, then opens again to 30m — the water builds up in height, speed and pressure as it goes through, then a complex-chaos of relief after the narrows — creating whirlpools, back eddies, turbulence, and other mysteries-of-physics. Then imagine the flow switches direction and does it again. Four times a day (every 6 hours). Every day.
- Note: Tidal currents are different from ocean currents which are the global-mama-flows circulating the entire earth. Which are created by, gravity, the Coriolis Effect, and temperature differences between the poles and equator.
Charts
You’ll notice on marine charts there are arrows indicating flood (rising tide) and ebb (lowering tide) directions, as well as their speed in knots. Use currents to your advantage. And take rest when they are against you, or use the back eddies.
Charts also note beach type (sand, gravel, rock, ect.), any significant landmarks, settlements, and breakers (submerged rocks to look out for).
Marine charts can be obtained online, or at fishing stores (and in public libraries). Always bring paper charts. There are chart atlas books which contain all the charts of the PNW (in two volumes). For a kayaker, these are all you will need, and will fit on the deck. Make sure you get a good chart case or zip lock.
Why do I care?
Tides, currents, weather, and geography end up ruling your life. Every moment depends on balancing these four: How high up the beach do I camp? Which side of the island should I paddle? Where are the best clams? Where are the fish? How should I set-up this tarp? Am I safe to paddle?
Navigation
1) Piloting. Uses prominent headlands, points, coves, and beaches to match with landmarks on the chart. This method is dependent on line-of-sight, and can be compromised, come Fogust (August mornings are misty in the Pacific Northwest).
2) Dead reckoning. Before long (or foggy) crossings, kayakers set a bearing (angle) on the compass to the intended destination. To do this, check the chart’s compass rose (to calibrate for magnetic north). By estimating paddling speed, current direction and speed, and measuring the distance to the destination (on the chart), a kayaker should be able to cross anything. If there is a perpendicular current, point upwards to account for the drift.
3) Global Positioning System [GPS]. Backcountry trekkers and coastal mariners can now use their phones with accurate GPS results. If you have a Garmin hand held device or something legit, that’s great. Make sure to get the maps downloaded. These devices will also have tidal data. I use MAPS.ME and OsmAnd (phone apps) for mapping. However, don’t get dependent! You need paper charts. My dad downloaded all the charts on his phone as a reference, and dropped it in the water on the second day of a trip we did. At least a chart atlas you can dry out.
Campsite shopping.
You will be wild camping every night. There are a few Provincial campsites, and in towns you can get a hostel, but mostly, you’re on your own. Finding camp spots is an art / scavenger hunt.
Needs:
1) A suitable landing area, safe whatever weather (this mostly means sediment beaches). Look for indents on the chart where streams come out. Rivers deposit sediment, making for safe landing beaches.
2) Fresh H2O (preferably a fast-flowing stream, then you don’t have to treat the water. I didn’t treat water at all on the whole trip — we are so lucky to have such pure water).
3) A place to put the tent. This may seem like no biggie, but it’s tricky to find flat realty out there. On beaches I level out the ground by raking the sand (I even make a pillow-bump where my head goes). Just make sure you’re above the tide line.
Wants:
1) Sunset view. This is important, and gives closure to the day. (Luckily we live on the west coast. No offence, Halifax and New York, I’m sure the sunrise is dandy.)
2) Driftwood. For fire, tarpology (rigging up rain shelters), setting up a beach-living room, and playing the-ground-is-lava.
3) A nice forest, shoreline, or tide pool. You have lots of time to chill, paint, and explore.
4) Edible goodies. Kelp, berries, and other ocean-forest munch.
Nopes:
1) Private property. Unfortunately, there are chowsers on this coast who guard their temples (a note: no one owns below the high tide line). Most people are really nice and will invite you for tea. Some people will let you camp in their yard.
2) Urban areas.
3) Cliffs. Or exposed shoreline (this might depend on weather).
The Nautical Mile
Captains, Coast Guards, and mariners use the nautical mile — a miracle in the measurement world. It’s handy on the ocean because every degree of latitude is sixty nautical miles. When travelling distances affected by earth’s circular nature, this becomes the best unit of measurement.
Distance Conversion
1 Nautical mile 1.85 Kilometres
1 Nautical mile 1.15 Miles
1 Nautical mile 1 Minute of latitude
60 Nautical miles 1 Degree of latitude
Fishing
If you are comfortable killing scalies, bring a fishing rod. There are three strategies: 1. Trolling (dragging a line behind the boat) 2. Seining (using nets to surround fishies) 3. Jigging or long lining (my fav).
Success jigging depends on location. Headlands, channels, back eddies, and places where water is moving and nutrients are blended are good places. To stay off the bottom, reel up two or three meters once the line goes slack. This prevents from getting hooked on rocks or kelp. But getting stuck happens, like all the time, it’s actually the reason we go fishing. To learn patience, and attach ourselves with an umbilical cord to the unknown.
The hardest part is what to do once you get one. I usually stuff it in the cockpit, then go to shore and bludgeon it. I’ve lost slippery-jacks wacking them on deck. But having a live fish in your cockpit comes with crotch-related pitfalls.
Wild harvesting
Getting to eat wild food, harvested with your own hands is profound. Your body will feel amazing. Seaweeds, bivalves, fish, and berries are everywhere, as long as you know where to look. Some trippers bring basic food supplies (lentils, rice, salt (for preserving), flour) and leave the rest to nature. I like peanut butter too much…
Alone or together
The curriculums of traveling together or alone are a Venn diagram. You get a lot of the same lessons, but many are different.
Traveling together can be difficult, because you are always negotiating comfort, schedules, and compatability. You are also limited in your ability to go full-lonely, which I think is one of the most valuable parts of this type of trip. Having a friend with you might also save your life, and anchor your memories.
Withdrawal and suffering
You will suffer in many ways. You will be cold, wet, hungry, and lonely. Often all at once. Sometimes for days. But these extremes are exactly why you should go. If you’re reading this, it’s possible you come from a certain degree of privilege. Enough to read, and enough to possibly take a summer off, to paddle to Alaska. This means you have certain comforts billions of people don’t. Think about this. Most humans, are just surviving. When you go on a trip like this, you also are just surviving, but with perspective and fully immersed in nature. It’s a process in humility.
You may go through a process of societal withdrawal, especially if you are solo. Luckily you are in the hands of a capable therapist — Mother Nature. Going into the woods to heal is a common narrative. I think it’s true, but it might not happen how you expect.
Some possible life lessons:
1. Attention span. On long nature trips we are not bombarded by rapid stimulation (social media, etc.), and our lives depend on being in tune with weather, water, and nature, so our ability to observe increases.
2. The mind. It becomes apparent how crazy we are. Cut off from new thought-food, we start seeing how the mind works. We see how often we repeat thoughts of the past and future. What triggers them, and what trauma we may carry. And we start letting go of duplicate-thoughts. “I already thought that” Thanks for coming out, I don’t need you anymore.
3. Self-reliance. We can only depend on ourselves. When put in practice every day for months, you develop confidence. Your insecurities of capability, judgement, and am-I-doing-this-right, begin to erode.
4. Nature’s rhythms. We heal in nature, because we slow down enough and see natural systems go through processes. Staying night and day outside, gives an opportunity to watch seasons change, flowers bloom, and animals eat each other. In nature things die regularly, something we are sheltered from in the city. This closeness to death gives perspective: “ … yes, one day, I too will perish. Am I living life how I want?”
5. Patience. You might get really mangled. Likely you will cry, and guaranteed you will scream. Good. Let it out, go wild, and arrive on the other side stronger, wiser, and quieter. Stretching tolerance by experiencing discomfort; develops equanimity.
Mental health and meditation
Mental health is important, but we have trouble defining it. I would recommend taking a 10-day Vipassana retreat, before heading out alone. Having a mental health practice to stabilize the mind is an asset when everything goes wrong.
Paddling these islands will change your whole life. It will break you down and rebuild you. Paddling in the PNW is wild-therapy. And the curriculum is manifold, and ultimately not up to you. The lessons are decided by our capacity and willingness to learn. If we enter open, and empty, we will return fulfilled and whole.
Coming of age
Coming of age processes, especially extended nature journeys, promote healthy individualization, a sense of purpose, and the cultivation of positive values. Western culture is mostly void of healthy initiations into adulthood. Going on these journeys is the DIY option.
Kayak History lesson
1. The first kayaks were built from stitched seal skin stretched over whale-bone frames. Created by the Aleuts and Inuits — Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic — these vessels were used for hunting seals, whales, and even caribou! The word kayak, which translates to “hunter’s boat,” is roughly 5,000+ years old.
2. Canoes have a similar history originating farther south on the west coast and are as old as the cedar tree itself. To build them, the core of a standing [D1] tree is usually burned-out to aid in the dug-out process. They can hold up to 30 people and were vessels for trade, war, and everything else.
3. In 1928, a German paddler, laden with 270 kilograms (600 pounds) of canned whompers, left the Canary Islands (Spain) in a canvas kayak and reached the US Virgin Islands fifty-eight days later (5,000 kilometres / 3,100 miles across the Atlantic).
Another German, Oscar Speck, took his canvas fold-boat down the Danube River to the Mediterranean, hugged the coast through the Suez Canal, traversing Arabia, India, and Indonesia, reaching Australia four years later (22,000 kilometres / 13,700 miles).
5. People are now full-wild and testing the boundaries of the human-ocean relationship. People want to feel something — anything that allows them to plunge into the metaphorical deep. In 2012, Graham and Russell Henry from Victoria, BC, paddled from Brazil to Florida, taking seven months through more than 15 countries. Russell went on to set the record for fastest human-powered circumnavigation of Vancouver Island: 12 days, 23 hours, 45 mins (I don’t think anyone will ever beat this record. Yes, that’s a challenge)
Whales
You will see whales — there is no way around it. It is absolutely guaranteed. Enjoy. They won’t hit you, because they are smarter than you.
Japanese glass buoys
Happy searching. Look way above the driftwood line, in the forest under bushes.
Keep a Journal
These illustrations and notes are from my own journals kayaking the coast. Many people will never go there, so record and share your story.
Reconciliation
The first and last thank you.
I could not have done my trip without the stewardship and support of coastal Indigenous Peoples. On my journey, I was fed and housed, and if I ever needed rescue, the first responders would have been the local Indigenous nation.
When you are out there, you are a guest paddling through land that has been inhabited for millennia.
Stay humble, stay true.
