“Should we make this a real adventure?” I asked Avery between the swooshes of wind wave rolling under us. 

“I thought this was already a real adventure! But I trust you,” he replied. 

“Great. Take the tiller.”

Sailing Kachina around Chichagof Island’s outer coast drummed in my head incessantly; it had been a regular din since abandoning the plan last year. Our float plan was filed and reviewed several times. The perfect following breeze in Lynn Canal set us up to take the safer, surer option of the inside passage to Sitka through Peril Strait. It made the most sense to take the inside track for many reasons. This was Avery’s first real sailing trip, we had already told everyone we were going inside, there were more people to offer help and places to hide from poor weather. But the Outer Coast is too magic to pass up. After lashing the whisker pole to the cabin top, I grabbed the tiller back from Avery and settled Kachina’s bow on a course that would ultimately take us to the Gulf of Alaska. I know a grin spread wide across my face. 

Over the next week, we hid from summer storms in tiny anchorages that kept me awake through the night and laughed as sea otters escaped Avery’s fruitless attempts to take their picture. We poked through waterways familiar to me but foreign to my long-time friend. We swam in glacier-blue water under the mid-summer sun and warmed soggy bones in a winsome sauna tucked along the rugged coast. Hosted by early morning sunshine and sticky mist, we chuckled about past misadventures and mulled present corners of life. It was special to watch Avery’s growing appreciation for the vastness and quiet intimacy of the Tongass’ forested hillsides, turquoise waters, rocky shores, and remote wilderness.