Having traced the edges of Alaska’s wild frontier, from glacier-bound bays to remote island harbors, we found ourselves at the threshold of something larger: the open Gulf of Alaska, where the horizon is unbroken and the night holds its own kind of test. This was to be our first ocean crossing aboard Arcturus across Alaska’s tempestuous gulf.  There’s a peculiar fear that gripped my mind before my first ocean crossing…

There are places you arrive at expecting little, and they bloom into grandeur so sudden and staggering, you wonder how you ever doubted their majesty. Such was the case with Kodiak. There’s a moment when the sea hushes and the sky leans in, a stillness that settles over the Gulf of Alaska as you near the Kodiak Archipelago. During our fog-laden crossing, we sailed past the rocky Barren Islands between Homer and Kodiak.

Arriving in Homer in mid-July felt like a significant milestone in our journey, an anchoring point on our odyssey that marked the furthest west we would sail upon the Alaskan mainland before setting our course toward Kodiak Island. Nestled at the transition point from South Central to Southwest Alaska, Homer is the hinge between the familiar coastlines of the Kenai and the more remote and wild western reaches of the state.

 I awoke to the rhythmic cadence of waves lapping against our hull, the scent of salt and spruce mingling in the crisp morning air. As we rounded the Kenai Peninsula into Port Bainbridge, anticipation coursed through me. From the outset of our trip planning, the fjords had seemed a mysterious place; a realm of dramatic rocks and pinnacles adorned with tufted pine and spruce, a landscape unlike any I'd encountered in Alaska.

S/V Arcturus Sailing Adventure: ​In the heart of the Chugach, where towering peaks cradle icy blue fjords, we embarked on a month-long journey through Prince William Sound. It borderers borders the vast Chugach National Forest—an expanse of approximately 5.4 million acres, making it the second-largest national forest in the United States. Here, glaciers don't merely adorn the landscape; they sculpt it. More than a third of the Chugach is glaciated, with these ancient rivers of ice feeding the region's waterfalls, forests, and fjords.

Exploring the rugged beauty of Kayak Island and its neighboring Wingham Island, we encountered the remnants of forgotten towns and the stark contrast of a modern world’s waste washed ashore. From the historical significance of the Cape St. Elias Lighthouse to the serene, yet unforgiving, coastline, every corner of these islands tells a story of nature’s enduring power and the isolation of Alaska's wilderness.

With the early sunrises and late sunsets of mid-May upon us, we set our sights on the icy allure of Icy Bay, where new stories and untamed beauty await. Departing from Yakutat and heading northwest, we left familiar waters to brave uncharted territories that neither Louie nor I had ever explored by boat. Just north of Yakutat Bay, we first glimpsed the Malaspina Glacier, one of the largest piedmont glaciers in the world.

From the icy stronghold of Hubbard Glacier, we charted our course toward the secluded serenity of Russell Fjord. Upon first hearing about the glacier, one of North America’s few advancing ice giants, Louie was intrigued at the prospect of exploration. Russell Fjord also has a history of fluctuating between open and closed, dependent on Hubbard’s relentless march. The idea of such a wilderness, its fate determined by ice, beckoned.

As the last whispers of winter receded, we set sail in May from Juneau, the city of gold, with the promise of spring upon our stern. Departing from the Inside Passage — a sanctuary of sheltered waters and verdant shores — we ventured towards the untamed majesty of the outer coast, where the seas speak the language of ancient mariners and the winds carry tales of uncharted adventures.