Chapter 2 - A Race Against The Tide
The Realizing a Dream Tour
Crux No. 2: Controller Bay
Upon reaching the coast, I reveled in the ability to pedal once again. My dream of riding a fat bike along a coast was now a reality. It was exhilarating to be leaving my tracks in the sand. And oh, how easy it was to ride. Our weather was holding with the deep fog lifting ever so slightly to reveal the discernable high peaks which make up the rugged coast of southeast Alaska. Out ahead of us was a wild land of endless adventure. In 2008, Eric Parsons and Dylan Kentch pioneered the route we were currently following. They had traversed the 290 miles in reverse, beginning in the small town of Yakutat and ending 20 days later at our starting point in Cordova. They encountered and were subjected to torturous weather and a brutal landscape of impenetrable thickets of vegetation; rocky headlands; endless miles of ever changing sand; and precarious crossings of glacial rivers and tumultuous open bays. We were aiming to duplicate their journey in a mere 11 days.
Awaking warm and dry on day three in a forest service hut, we packed quickly and were on our way by 6:30 AM. Seeking the advantage provided by a low tide, we made our way uneventfully around Cape Martin. Bouncing our bikes through the slick kelp covered boulders of the cape we made good time. Our sand continued to be supportable, allowing us to cover ground quickly. Additionally, our weather was still hospitable with the grey skies void of precipitation.
The success of our route depended upon our ability to negotiate bays that were 5 to 8 miles across. These crossings were formidable, especially in small pack rafts loaded with fat bikes strapped to their bows. Our exposure to a disaster taking place on the trip was perhaps the greatest during these challenges. If we encountered high winds or large swells, it would take very bit of our skill and experience to survive such a situation. Hoping to somewhat mitigate the risk of a sudden cold water immersion, we each brought light weight dry suits and homemade blow up PFDs. None of us wanted to test these pieces of gear, but we hoped they would buy us some time in case of an emergency.
The success of our route depended upon our ability to negotiate bays that were 5 to 8 miles across.
Our first big crossing was Controller Bay. Eric and Dylan had found it to be a rowdy endeavor. We came upon the mouth of the bay at low tide. The horizon was dotted with sand bars separating channels of deep water. As I contemplated what lied ahead, I watched Roman, Mike and Doom inflate their pack rafts and plop their bikes across the bows of their rafts. In the blink of an eye they were paddling across the short stretches of water with their unsecured bikes balanced precariously. A slight shift of weight from an unexpected gust of wind or body movement could result in a sudden capsize with both person and bike floating in the sea water. Following suit, I tried my hand at this “disaster” style technique as was coined by my fellow crew members.
Photo courtesy of Steve “Doom” Fassbinder.
Having strapped his pack to the bow of his raft, once on the other side of a channel, Roman would put his pack on with his pack raft sticking straight up in the air and remount his bike to ride to the next crossing. Adapting to his style, we quickly made our way into Controller Bay, paddling from one sand bar to the next. After several disaster style crossings, we came to a channel that was too expansive to safely cross without a little bit more security. Removing the front wheels of our bikes to allow for more extension in our paddle strokes, we strapped the bikes to the rafts and commenced the half mile paddle to what was indicated on our map as Kanak Island. We were nearly half way across Controller Bay, and the going had been easy thus far.
Once landing on the island, we stood up from our low perches in the rafts to look at the bay beyond. To our surprise, the bay was a vast plain of sand flats dotted with pools of water. Our tide was still out, but coming in quickly. Deflating and stowing our rafts, we began the race against the clock to pedal the final miles to the mainland before the rising waters caught us in the middle of the bay. Absorbed in our thoughts of what would happen if the tide caught us short of the coast, we cranked on our pedals with a tenacity brought on by purpose. As I stared across the glimmering pools of water and sand to the thin veil of green on the horizon, I willed the bike forward hoping the far off landmark would quickly grow in size.
After what seemed like an eternity, I pedaled to the edge of a deep channel of water which was the final obstacle separating us from reaching the high ground of the mainland. We would have to inflate our rafts to overcome this final challenge. Laying my bike on its side, I quickly removed my pack raft from its place on the Anything Cradle and began inflating it. Within 30 seconds, my bike, which had been dry, was now beginning to float from the incoming waters. With a renewed sense of urgency, I captured and squeezed air into my raft. Looking behind me, I saw the others stopping to inflate their rafts as well. Roman was just a silhouette on the horizon, still pedaling. He was going to have a bit of a paddle. With my raft mostly inflated, I recovered my bike and balanced it across the raft for my final disaster style crossing of the day. Wahoo! Controller Bay was crossed. The reward for our efforts was a stunning coast line of vibrant lupine, fireweed, and raspberries. The smell of the flowers was as intoxicating as the myriad of colors dancing across the horizon. What a day!
