Alaska
Spinnakers, Sweat, and Survival: A Race to Alaska Adventure | Cruising World
Taylor Bayly/Courtesy R2AK
I held my breath as I pulled up the sock to unfurl our spinnaker in Haro Strait. Of the five headsails we’d brought aboard our Santa Cruz 27, this enormous black parachute was the only one I hadn’t bonded with before we’d cast off dock lines in Victoria, British Columbia. We were 50 miles into the 750-mile Race to Alaska—a somewhat insane wilderness adventure where 30-odd teams pedal, paddle and sail a hodgepodge of random crafts from Port Townsend, Washington, to Ketchikan, Alaska—and I was about to learn how to fly a kite for the first time.
Sure, I’ve been aboard other sailboats a handful of times when spinnakers were flown. It always involved male captains wanting to go faster around buoys in big winds; zero discussion of how we would raise, douse or jibe the giant sail; and terrifying near-disasters that elicited lots of confused yelling. So I’d learned only to fear spinnakers, not fly them.
I hoped that this time would be different. The wind was a measly 5 knots, barely filling our genoa. We had a destination that was still days away. And we were a crew of three mid-40s women who were cautious, conscientious, and considerate of one another’s fears.
Our team, Sail Like A Mother, almost didn’t bring any of the spinnakers that came with the boat because none of us had much experience flying them. But we knew we’d likely need at least one in our quiver to navigate the fickle winds of the Inside Passage—especially if we wanted to finish the race before the “Grim Sweeper” tapped us out.

Taylor Bayly/Courtesy R2AK
We decided to bring the asymmetric spinnaker, but only after we attached a sock to douse it quickly. We also made sure at least one crewmember, Melissa Roberts, practiced rigging and sailing it in Bellingham Bay prior to the race.
Melissa let out a whoop from the cockpit as the beautiful black sail snapped taut and Wild Card surged forward: “I knew we could do it! I’m so proud of us!” She played out the working sheet and told me to “just steer to fill the sail when it luffs.” Katie Gaut, our team captain, took photos to memorialize the moment.
I stood with the tiller between my legs to feel our course rather than overthink it. It was lovely and sunny, humpbacks were spouting on the horizon, and we were cruising along at the same speed as the wind. After a half-hour, I decided that the spinnaker was my new favorite sail.
That is, until we had to jibe. In the middle of a shipping lane. While three other Race to Alaska teams were watching.
We promptly lost the lazy sheet under the keel, along with our pride. After a few (quietly) yelled questions, I retrieved the sodden rope while Katie took the tiller. This time, we put a stopper knot in it. Then we kept puttering north at jogging speed.
That is, until it got gusty at sunset, and we got nervous and doused it. Which meant the wind promptly died, of course. We gave up on sails and took turns pedaling the bike instead (it’s a contraption attached to our stern that turned an airplane propeller and moved us at 2 knots). Around 1 a.m., we finally made it to Tumbo Island, British Columbia, dropped anchor, crammed ourselves into our coffin berths in the damp cabin, and got four glorious hours of sleep.
Then we rinsed and repeated for 10 more days.
You might be thinking that the Race to Alaska sounds like your personal version of hell. It’s actually hell intermixed with pockets of pure heaven.
Unlike other races that are fraught with complex regulations, the Race to Alaska—or R2AK—is purposefully simple. There are no motors. No outside support. The Northwest Maritime Center first hatched the race in 2015 with this well-thought-out plan: “We’re going to nail $10,000 to a tree, blow a horn, and whoever gets there first, gets it,” says Jesse Wiegel, the center’s race boss.
Second prize? A set of steak knives. This tongue-in-cheek reward, Wiegel says, drives home the point that people choose to compete in this maritime endurance event for plenty of reasons that are more valuable than cash. Or cutlery.

Taylor Bayly/Courtesy R2AK
For me, those reasons were threefold. I wanted to prove to myself that I could sail offshore without my husband, who had recently decided that he wanted a break from boats. I wanted to inject some adrenaline into my domestic life, and to show my two young kids that their mother does (way) more than their dishes and laundry. I wanted to become part of the inspiring, adventure-prioritizing, 800-person-strong R2AK community.
Oh, and I wanted to see a lot of whales.
Even though the coveted steak knives would look lovely beside my set from Goodwill, our team had no desire to win them. Our goal was simply to finish the race in one piece, hopefully still friends at the end, and to suffer as cheerfully as possible along the route.
Navigating the mind-bending logistics to get to the starting line was the hardest part. Once our threesome decided to enter, 10 months prior to the race, we began calling and texting one another approximately 128 times per day to iron out details: What boat should we buy? How do we get said boat back from Ketchikan after the race? What will we eat for five to 25 days at sea without a kitchen or refrigeration? Where will we pee without a head? How much drinking water should we bring, and where will we store it? How will we keep our sleeping bags, socks, gloves, and other sundries dry amid a constant deluge of rain and sea spray?
Answers to those questions: We bought Wild Card, a 1976 racing boat with a turquoise hull that had previously completed the R2AK and was a minor celebrity in the Pacific Northwest racing community. We found a brave volunteer to sail Wild Card back from Ketchikan to Bellingham, and would ship the outboard up on the ferry for him. We would eat dehydrated meals donated by Backpacker’s Pantry, and oodles of snacks such as jerky, chocolate and nuts. We would pee in a bucket and dump it overboard. We would bring 28 gallons of water in four jugs. And we would pray fervently that oversize plastic bags and good luck would keep our gear sort of dry.

Amy Arntson
But first, we had to see if our application would pass the race committee’s muster. The R2AK’s laissez-faire attitude on rules doesn’t extend to letting just anyone compete.
“The vetting process is something we take really seriously,” Wiegel says. “It ultimately boils down to: Do you have what it takes to keep yourself from getting killed? Do you have the judgment to make good calls, even if it’s sometimes going to be the call to quit?”
Our team definitely took the “keep yourself from getting killed” part seriously. We’re mothers, after all. We borrowed a life raft, installed personal locator beacons and lights on our life jackets, mounted a SailProof tablet in the cockpit to navigate easily in all conditions, attached an AIS transmitter so that cargo and cruise ships would see our tiny boat in big seas, and practiced a lot of woman-overboard drills. We had extra pedals, extra tools, backup navigation lights, backup batteries to charge them, and a medical kit that could outfit a small village.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t worry. After sailing more than 10,000 miles across various oceans, I know that stuff goes sideways. Like that time a decade ago when I had to dive overboard in a shipping lane to pull bull kelp out of the engine’s intake while the boat spiraled in a whirlpool amid pea-soup fog. Or the time our mainsail ripped while my family was sailing closehauled in a motorless Sea Pearl in the Bahamas (with me four months pregnant and our 3-year-old napping in the cockpit). That time, we managed a controlled shipwreck on a sliver of sand amid sharp coral to avoid getting sucked out to sea. And don’t get me started on all the times our engine has died, the electrical system has fritzed, or a line has jammed at the worst possible moment—usually right around 2 a.m. in a squall.
When things get hairy, I’ve learned to deal calmly. To think carefully about potential next steps. To rely on the skills of the friends or family beside me. And, most important, to pull the plug if our combined skills are no match for the problem at hand. Our team motto for getting to Ketchikan was easy to agree upon: “Push ourselves, but be safe and have fun.”
Of course, fun is relative on the R2AK. My first time flying the spinnaker was a perfect example of that: Wait five minutes, and the weather will change. Wait another five minutes, and your sky-high confidence will plummet to the seafloor. We faced big winds and opposing tides. We beat for hours and hours (and hours) up Johnstone Strait in 25 to 30 knots of wind—which was, in all honesty, harder than childbirth. We accidentally jibed in the middle of the night way, way too close to a rock in the roily waters of Hecate Strait while careening down 6-foot swells. We ran out of water in the Dixon Entrance and were too tired to eat after sailing 40 hours straight to the finish line. And we changed headsails 7,458 times, give or take.

Shelley Lipke/Courtesy R2AK
But we also saw orcas at sunset and bioluminescence under a full moon. We hobbyhorsed happily over the whitecapped swells on an easy reach all the way across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We laughed a lot more than we cried. And by the end, we flew that beautiful black spinnaker like it was second nature.
On Day 9, we decided to head offshore in hopes of riding steadier south winds the last 140 miles to Alaska. We also, it turns out, got surprisingly competitive at the end. A handful of teams had been leapfrogging us the last half of the course, and we knew that we could beat them if we took the open-ocean route instead of the winding inside channels.
But keeping pace with those teams also boosted our morale along the way, especially our daily VHF radio chats with soloist Adam Cove on Team Wicked Wily Wildcat.
“One of my biggest wins from this race was the level of camaraderie,” says Cove, who snagged two R2AK records this year: fastest singlehanded monohull and fastest monohull under 20 feet. “It’s nice to know that if something goes wrong, we’ve got one another’s backs.”
As an avid offshore and coastal racer on the East Coast, Cove said that the R2AK was the most challenging race he’s ever done. The captain of this year’s first-place winner, Duncan Gladman of Team Malolo, agrees.
“The R2AK has every difficult element,” Gladman says. “You’re constantly navigating. The weather is constantly shifting. And it just gets harder the farther up the course you get.”
Gladman is well-versed in the unpredictable nature of the R2AK. He attempted the race aboard the same trimaran twice before, only to be crushed (literally) by logs. The third time was the charm: His team finished in five days this past June.
On Day 10 of our voyage, we saw the light at the end of the tunnel—or, in this case, the narrow channel that was our exit for Ketchikan. Dall’s porpoises ushered us through the last rolling swells of the Dixon Entrance. Even in my disheveled, hangry-zombie state, it still took all of my willpower not to push the tiller to starboard and head south to Hawaii. I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to the rhythm of our days aboard. But we held our course, enticed by hot showers, a real toilet, dry beds and the warm welcome awaiting us.
When we rang the bell at the finish line at 1:03 a.m., the dock was brimming full of fellow racers and well-wishers. I cried happy tears and hugged my teammates.
And then I promptly started planning my next sailing adventure.
Fear the Grim Sweeper
The R2AK committee isn’t playing around. It’s a race, not a leisurely stroll. The trusty sweep boat, affectionately dubbed the “Grim Sweeper,” is on the move as soon as the first racer reaches Ketchikan, or by June 21, whichever comes later. From Port Townsend, it cruises north at about 75 miles a day. If you see it heading your way, you’re out of the race. They’ll collect your tracking device and say hi, but don’t expect a free ride to Ketchikan. They can help you figure out your next steps though. —CW staff
Alaska
‘Ticking time bomb’: Extreme snowfall fuels avalanche danger around Haines
Avalanche professionals are warning backcountry adventurers to stay out of risky terrain after snow slammed the Upper Lynn Canal in late December.
National Weather Service data shows the storm dumped at least 44 inches of snow in Haines, making it the sixth snowiest five-day period in more than two decades. Other reports documented closer to six or seven feet.
“It was definitely one of the higher snowfalls you’ve gotten in five days, pretty much out of all your time that the station’s been there,” said Juneau-based meteorologist Edward Liske.
The dumping has created a risky situation in the backcountry that warrants extreme caution, said Jeff Moskowitz, the director of the Haines Avalanche Center.
His main message: “Avoid being in or around avalanche terrain.”
Earlier this week, Moskowitz dug a snow pit in town – in front of Haines’ historic Fort Seward – that confirmed his assessment. Standing chest-deep in the pit, he pointed out layers of snow stacked on top of each other, each representing a different storm.
There was a somewhat fluffy layer on top, from the snowfall in early January. Below that, there was a roughly three-foot-deep layer that was more compact, from the late December storm.
And then there was a thin, feeble layer of snow just inches from the ground that crumbled like sugar when Moskowitz ran his hand through it. That snow was on the ground before the big storm – it’s the layer that could collapse and trigger an avalanche under the weight of more precipitation, snowmachines or humans.
“We have about a meter of really strong snow just sitting over this sugar,” Moskowitz said, calling it a “dangerous combination for avalanches.”
Starting Dec. 27, the situation prompted the center to issue warnings about high avalanche risk in the Haines area. Moskowitz said people should stay off slopes that are greater than 30 degrees – and avoid traveling beneath them.
“It’s just a tricky situation, because there’s lots of snow, and we want to go play,” he said. “But we still have this strong-over-weak layering in most places.”
In some places, he said, the weak layer may be buried so deep that a human or snowmachine wouldn’t trigger it. But in shallower areas, like near trees or rocks. the layer would be closer to the surface and more likely to trigger an avalanche.
“People could ride that slope numerous times until one person finds that weak spot,” he said.
The deluge has stopped for now. But the situation could get worse before it gets better, as temperatures rise and the top layer of snow consolidates into a heavier, thicker slab. New precipitation or other conditions could trigger a natural avalanche cycle, wiping that weak layer out.
“Otherwise, it’s a little bit like a ticking time bomb,” Moskowitz said.
Haines Avalanche Center
The Haines Avalanche Center is a nonprofit and the main source of avalanche information in the Chilkat Valley, which draws backcountry adventurers from around the world. Moskowitz emphasized the importance of donations, grants and borough funding to make that work possible.
In the past, the Haines Borough has asked nonprofits to apply for funding from a $100,000 bucket. But Haines Mayor Tom Morphet said that, amid a steep budget deficit, the assembly discontinued that grant process for fiscal year 2026, which runs through June.
That has meant less funding than usual for the Avalanche Center, which has just three part-time employees, including Moskowitz.
“Less funding means less staff time,” Moskowitz said. “And staff time means that locals who are avalanche professionals and have certifications are out there, digging in the snow, making assessments, posting that information publicly.”
The center posts a general avalanche information product every week, plus a weather forecast and season summary. They also issue advisories when avalanche danger is high, including three days in a row in late December.
But the center does not currently have the funding or staff capacity to consistently publish advisories when avalanche risk is low, moderate or considerable.
“What we don’t want, is that there’s an accident that sparks the public interest in supporting the Avalanche Center,” Moskowitz said. “We just need to maintain the services we provide and just keep it going year after year after year.”
Morphet, the mayor, said the borough and assembly are “acutely aware” of the center’s importance.
Moskowitz said people who recreate in the backcountry can help by paying close attention to their surroundings – and he urged them to send in their observations online.
That could mean details about a human-triggered or natural avalanche, about where the sun has hit the mountains on a particular day, or an observation that feathery crystals – known as surface hoar – have started forming on the snow’s surface.
“There’s very little information that we’re not going to find useful,” Moskowitz said. “All of that is very valuable, and it helps to inform this bigger picture.”
Alaska
Alaska delegation mixed on Venezuela capture legality, day before presidential war powers vote
ANCHORAGE, Alaska (KTUU) – Alaska’s congressional delegation had mixed reactions Wednesday on the legality of the Trump administration’s actions in Venezuela over the weekend, just a day before they’re set to vote on a bill ending “hostilities” in Venezuela.
It comes days after former Venezuelan Nicolás Maduro was captured by American forces and brought to the United States in handcuffs to face federal drug trafficking charges.
All U.S. Senators were to be briefed by the administration members at 10 a.m. ET Wednesday, including Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, according to CBS News.
Spokespersons for Alaska Sens. Lisa Murkowski, R-Alaska, and Dan Sullivan, R-Alaska, say they were at that meeting, but from their responses, the two shared different takeaways.
Sullivan, who previously commended the Trump administration for the operation in Venezuela, told KDLL after his briefing that the next steps in Venezuela would be done in three phases.
“One is just stabilization. They don’t want chaos,” he said.
“The second is to have an economic recovery phase … and then finally, the third phase is a transition to conduct free and fair elections and perhaps install the real winner of the 2024 election there, which was not Maduro.”
Murkowski spokesperson Joe Plesha said she had similar takeaways to Sullivan on the ousting of Maduro, but still held concerns on the legality.
“Nicolás Maduro is a dictator who led a brutally oppressive regime, and Venezuela and the world are better places without him in power,” Plesha said in a statement Wednesday. “While [Murkowski] continues to question the legal and policy framework that led to the military operation, the bigger question now is what happens next.”
Thursday, the Senate will decide what happens next when they vote on a war powers resolution which would require congressional approval to “be engaged in hostilities within or against Venezuela,” and directs the president to terminate the use of armed forces against Venezuela, “unless explicitly authorized by a declaration of war or specific authorization for use of military force.”
Several House leaders have also received a briefing from the administration according to CBS News. A spokesperson for Rep. Nick Begich, R-Alaska, said he received a House briefing and left believing the actions taken by the administration were legal.
“The information provided in today’s classified House briefing further confirmed that the actions taken by the Administration to obtain Maduro were necessary, time-dependent, and justified; and I applaud our military and the intelligence community for their exceptional work in executing this operation,” Begich said in a statement.
Looming vote
Sen. Tim Kaine, D-VA, authored the war powers resolution scheduled for debate Thursday at 11 a.m. ET — 7 a.m. AKST.
It’s a resolution which was one of the biggest topics of discussion on the chamber floors Wednesday.
Sen. Rand Paul, R-KY, said on the Senate floor Wednesdya that the actions taken by the administration were an “act of war,” and the president’s capture of Maduro violated the checks and balances established in the constitution, ending his remarks by encouraging his colleagues to vote in favor of the resolution.
“The constitution is clear,” Paul said. “Only Congress can declare a war.”
If all Democrats and independents vote for the Kaine resolution, and Paul keeps to his support, the bill will need three more votes to pass. If there is a tie, the vice president is the deciding vote.
“It’s as if a magical dust of soma has descended through the ventilation systems of congressional office buildings,” Paul continued Wednesday, referring to a particular type of muscle relaxant.
“Vague faces in permanent smiles and obedient applause indicate the degree that the majority party has lost its grip and have become eunuchs in the thrall of presidential domination.”
Legality of actions under scrutiny
U.S. forces arrested Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores, from their Caracas home in an overnight operation early Saturday morning, Alaska time. Strikes accompanying the capture killed about 75 people, including military personnel and civilians, according to U.S. government officials granted anonymity by The Washington Post.
Maduro pleaded not guilty Monday in a New York courtroom to drug trafficking charges that include leading the “Cartel of the Suns,” a narco-trafficking organization comprised of high-ranking Venezuelan officials. The U.S. offered a $50 million reward for information leading to his capture.
Whether the U.S. was legally able to capture Maduro under both domestic and international law has been scrutinized in the halls of Congress. Members of the administration, like Secretary of State Marco Rubio, have been open in defending what they say was a law enforcement operation carrying out an arrest warrant, The Hill reports. Lawmakers, like Paul or Sen. Chuck Schumer, D-NY, say the actions were an act of war and a violation of the constitution.
While the president controls the military as commander in chief, Congress constitutionally has the power to declare wars. Congressional Democrats have accused Trump of skirting the Constitution by not seeking congressional authorization before the operation.
Murkowski has not outright condemned or supported the actions taken by the administration, saying in a statement she was hopeful the world was safer without Maduro in power, but the way the operation was handled is “important.”
Sullivan, on the other hand, commended Trump and those involved in the operation for forcing Maduro to “face American justice,” in an online statement.
Begich spokesperson Silver Prout told Alaska’s News Source Monday the Congressman believed the operation was “a lawful execution of a valid U.S. arrest warrant on longstanding criminal charges against Nicolás Maduro.”
The legality of U.S. military actions against Venezuela has taken significant focus in Washington over the past several months, highlighted by a “double-tap” strike — a second attack on the same target after an initial strike — which the Washington Post reported killed people clinging to the wreckage of a vessel after the military already struck it. The White House has confirmed the follow-up attack.
Sullivan, who saw classified video of the strike, previously told Alaska’s News Source in December he believed actions taken by the U.S. did not violate international law.
“I support them doing it, but they have to get it right,” he said. “I think so far they’re getting it right.”
Murkowski, who has not seen the video, previously said at an Anchorage press event the takeaways on that strike’s legality seem to be divided along party lines.
“I spoke to a colleague who is on the Intelligence Committee, a Republican, and I spoke to a colleague, a Democrat, who is on the Senate Armed Services Committee … their recollection or their retelling of what they saw [was] vastly different.”
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