3 August: Days-54, Total-58; Miles-13, Total-1920
– Chuck
Hot coffee, a bite for breakfast and we were ready for
the last day of our trip. I unloaded everything out of my canoe and
we both used it for this short trip to the Bering Sea.
With us both paddling and without a heavy load of gear, we seemed to
fly over the water. After a short couple of hours, hints of the open
sea ahead began to tease us. The excitement was growing. We saw what
we thought was the small uninhabited island that was our meeting place.
Fortunately, the Bering Sea was calm this day. It was actually calmer
than some of the inland waters just five miles away.
Using the binoculars, I spotted the red & white, 20 foot high, beacon
tower. The canoe surged ahead as we both, unintentionally, gave each
stroke a little more beef. Bill was not nearly as enthusiastic as I
thought he would be for the finish. He said nothing, but I suspected
he was in pain from the pinched nerve in the back of his neck.
As we got closer, the tower was obscured by short vegetation in the
foreground. At this time, only I had seen the tower, and that was with
the aid of binos in a bouncing canoe. Bill became increasingly concerned
that we might not be paddling to the correct island. Then he shouted,
"That's it, I see the tower". Just the top of the red &
white checkered tower was visible between some of the vegetation. It
was our island. We paddled to the exact meeting spot and were one half-hour
early.
It was cool and overcast. We looked across the open Bering Sea and took
some pictures. After shaking hands, we mostly just stood blankly looking
at this wide expanse of remote sea that we have paddled toward for nearly
two months.
When we decided it was real, we gathered some damp driftwood and started
a fire. It was nearly two hours later when I spotted a dot casting a
bow wake and heading directly at us. Soon, Kenny Lee and Specialist
Martin Augline beached their boat directly in front of us. Martin is
in the Alaska National Guard and maintains coastal familiarization by
riding with local fishermen and hunters. He volunteered to use my camera
to document the occasion and took nearly a roll of film during the next
half-hour.
We all quietly talked for awhile then loaded my canoe in the large open
boat. Without a word spoken, we turned our backs on the open sea and
motored the 13 miles back to Emo. It was over.