On a July evening in 1741 the Russian sailing vessel St. Paul spotted birds and floating trees, a sure sign they had reached the unmapped coast of North America. The ship’s Captain, Alexei Chirikov, had become separated weeks earlier from Captain Commander Vitus Bering and his vessel the St. Peter. Eager to make a name for himself, Chirikov sent a launch ashore to claim the land for Russia. It never returned. Nor did the second one. Left with no other landing craft and limited water, the St Paul was forced to return to Russia. Needless to say, today the narrow strip of ocean that separates Asia from North America is not called “Chirikov Strait”. No one ever found out what became of the Russian sailors.

Seven years ago while paddling the same stretch of coast —what is now the outer coast of southeast Alaska, I was sure they had been dashed on the rocks. Paddling with a somewhat unwitting companion in late September we ran between storms and dodged huge booming surf on offshore reefs, always on the lookout for protected water and fearful of trying to land anywhere on the exposed coast. I imagined small wooden boats with naïve foreigners to be no match for such a place. As for our motley crew of two—we successfully made the trip from Sitka to Hoonah that year, but my fellow paddler refused to ever kayak with me again.

Since then “Sitka to Hoonah” had loomed in my mind as the ultimate Southeast Alaska kayak adventure. Away from the famous glaciers, cruise ships, and protected waters of Alaska’s fjords, it offered a true wilderness trip, with all the wild conditions the northern Pacific had to offer. This summer, I made plans to return with the photographer Daniel Fox, and Debbie Hingst, my friend and former kayak student. Debbie found kayaking later in life, but pursued it with the same determination that served her as a bush pilot and public health nurse in the Alaskan bush. She had progressed well and was keen to push her limits.

Our journey would cover 140 miles in 11 days, with shuttle logistics on both ends provided by the ferries of the Alaska Marine Highway, the main source of transportation for people in this part of the world. We’d thread a course through islands large and small, following the outer coast of Chichagof and Yakobi Islands north to Cross Sound, then head into the inner waters of Icy Strait, before arriving in the native Tlingit village of Hoonah.