Who: Sabrina, Yvan, Oscar, Manu and Marinella
Where: Alaska
Multihull: Catana 582
Blog: www.vivreenbateau.com
Navigating, often when under engine, requires great vigilance to avoid huge floating logs and kelp slicks. A careful study of the routes according to the currents, which are sometimes very strong, is also essential. Every day something new comes along: fjords, waterfalls, green expanses, rivers, forests, lakes, mountains, glaciers... We admire the fauna, brown bears, grizzly bears, wolves, deer, humpback whales, killer whales, otters, seals and sea lions. We set out every day in search of our food, boots on, armed with fishing rods, knives, buckets and bags for picking whatever we might find. We either follow the river bed whose path is outlined in the tall grasses flattened by the animals, or by penetrating under the magical foliage of a primary forest, or into the heart of a secondary dense forest. This is an exercise that often forces us to cut right into the marshes. Our footsteps cross bear tracks that are fairly fresh, so we remain vigilant. We speak loudly, our bear sprays ready on our belts. It doesn't take much to be happy. Here, the bear is indeed the king of the animals: salmon, red berries, insects and honey are at his disposal. We watch the brown bear or grizzly bear fishing on the shore or at the foot of the waterfalls and playing in the tall grass on the plain. No one comes to disturb his peace and quiet. We live free, and yet our meals are worthy of a four-star rating. Thousands of salmon are waiting for us in the riverbed. A crab trap completes our hunting gear, and some days we go mussel fishing. For the rest, mushrooms, blueberries and cranberries fill our buckets. Near the glaciers, the temperature drops from 20° to 6°C (68° to 43°F). It's a familiar landscape of icefields that we had previously encountered in Patagonia which opens up before us. The growlers come out, white or blue. We slalom carefully under an increasingly biting wind. We're a thousand miles from any civilization. Only the spirits of the First Nations will come to haunt us one evening, piercing the intense blackness of the bay with a mysterious glow. Spectacular light dances over the dark ridges of the pine trees, the northern lights rippling just for us. The magnetic fields vibrate vertically and dilute in the sky, the lights coming alive as if to the sound of music; white with a hint of green. We hold back our breath, our tears and our emotion.
