Misty Fjords

 Misty Fjords

Wikipedia reports that Misty Fjords National Monument is a wilderness area administered by the US Forest Service as part of the Tongass National Forest. The national monument was originally proclaimed by President Jimmy Carter in December 1978. By the way, Jimmy is 97 and Rosalynn the ripe old age of 94. Jimmy’s hoping people will finally forget that he gave the Panama Canal back to the Panamanians and, hence, no longer under US control. The two of them are expected to live into their 120s and continue doing volunteer work until….until they fall over, I guess.

Anyway, on to Misty Fjords. We left Klu Bay and traveled north around the top of the Loop of Revillegegido Island. It was beautiful country with mountains all around, a light breeze rippling the water here and there and our second bear sighting. But increasingly, pollen was everywhere, on the boat, in the water, all over everything. It was like rivers of yellow gunk flowing across the water. It would pool in little silver dollar sized sticky globs by the thousands, millions actually. I steered out of the way to avoid some of the big pools of the stuff. Finally, the water just turned a yellowish green. It was enough to make you sneeze just looking at it. I’ve never seen anything like it.

With all the massive logging that’s been done in this part of the world there have been consequences to removing the timber on steep slopes. With all the rain, snow, and freezing in the winter the ground gives way on an area that has been recently logged and an avalanche occurs. Everything comes crashing down and leaves a blight on the side of the mountain and a big twisted log mess at the bottom. Sometimes, the slide area is unable to recover.  At other times there is enough soil left to re-establish new growth and its on the way to recovery. 

Tides are a big item up here. For instance, on June 16^th, a day with a full moon, the difference in the tidal exchange is 22 feet in Ketchikan.  Low tide is a -4.1 and the high tide is 18.6. In comparison, the tides in Anacortes on the same day are a low of 3.7 (one of the lowest for the year) and 9.0 for a high, an exchange of water totaling 12.7 feet. This is important when anchoring in this part of the world because dropping the anchor in 25-30 feet of water could find the boat bouncing off the bottom at low tide. If there are any rocks along the bottom, that’s additional problem.  So, we always take into consideration what the tides are doing and anchor accordingly. Then, we won’t be startled from a dead sleep in the middle of the night wondering what the crunching noise is coming from the hull.  

Now we enter Walker Cove. 

After wandering into Walker Cove, we decided that this was probably our favorite place as far as raw unusual beauty. It has 3 separate bays, each with a stream running into it, gigantic glacially carved vertical granite walls, plenty of waterfalls with their low rumble as they cascaded down the cliffs. What could be better than this? Ruthie Jeanne rounded the corner to the bay to find the buoy vacant and ready for our lines. This would be our luck lately, to nab the only buoy in a bay. And then there was the bear! We watched the bear rummage through the beach looking for something to eat each afternoon and early eve. 

  

   

Some of the waterfalls in Walker Cove would drop 1000 feet into the water, some with a splash, others just trickled down the rock wall. 

Leaving Walker Cove. If we ever return here to this magical place, it would be a delight.

We headed back to Ketchikan and called the Ketchikan Yacht Club Marina for a slip because the other marinas were full. In what has been our good fortune lately, we were able to pull into the only slip that was available on the yacht club dock.  I was beginning to feel like the purchase of a lotto ticket would be my next move.  

We returned here to pick up Scott and friend Shelly. They’ll be with us for the next 10 days. That trip will culminate in a tour to the Le Conte Glacier and hopefully we’ll see the glacier calving into the bay. This is the time of year we'll probably see many sea pups born not too long ago. 

It’s been raining and windy, which has delayed our trip. We won’t head out when there is a forecast of Small Craft Warnings and gale force winds, but we'll leave soon. 

More pictures, less words today. Hope all is well with you.

Ed out.

 

The Loop.

The Loop.

We left Ketchikan to journey up Behm Channel, on the west side of Revillagigedo island, and entered Yes Bay.  We passed Yes Bay Fishing Lodge, and called them on VHF Channel 73 to deliver a “hello” from a guy who used to work there for many years. He’s now employed by our mechanic in La Conner at Steve Ibbetson Marine Services.  Small world.

We slowed down to navigate a few tiny islets and a couple of skinny passages in order to reach the best anchorage at the head of the bay. We came in on a high tide and the passage was thick with trees just touching the water line and draped with moss. The head of the bay had a mud bottom and wasn’t very deep, (good for crabbing). There was long slow shoaling at the end of the bay that included a grassy marsh area and a stream, (perfect for bear watching). The universe often gives what’s needed, not necessarily what is wanted. After two days crabbing, we pulled up the trap to find one crab. We were thrilled it was of legal size at 6 ½“.  We didn’t see another crab, male or female, after several more attempts. Very unusual for that to happen. 

And bears? No bears until the morning we left. Right before pulling up the dinghy and anchor, I got an excited call on the walkie talkie from Moon. “There’s a bear, there’s a bear! Sure enough there was our first bear sighting. We watched the bear graze on the marsh grasses for a while until he disappeared into the woods in our own wilderness zoo. 

Next stop, Bailey Bay, in hopes of snagging the US Forest Service public buoy. If we could moor to the buoy that would be helpful because the bay is deep and anchoring is problematic. Our guide book suggests not staying unless tied up to the buoy or the boat is of yacht size, which we are not. As luck would have it, the buoy was free and we slowed our speed and nabbed it for a two-night stay. 

The quiet of Bailey Bay and the early morning warmth of the sun.

There was a hiking trail nearby on the shore, which was why the US Forest Service buoy was there. The trail leads to a 1-mile hike to Lake Shelokum where a supposed canoe can be used to cross the lake where a hot spring exists. After taking “spit baths” to conserve water, the thought of a dip in a hot spring was a glorious thing.

The next day we set off for the hike, rounded the first corner and saw the trail stretching upward at an alarming angle as far as the eye could see until it faded from view. It had to be an uphill 45-degree climb, at least to me it did. Ten minutes later passing out or sitting down screaming “No mas, no mas!” to my wife seemed like my only options. I’d been sitting on my “stern” for quite a number of days while we boated through BC and into Alaska. My body was used to sitting not hiking. But as Moon and I continued my body acclimated to the climb and it seemed to get a little easier. Our trail led us through the rain forest with all the ferns and moss and natural decay found in a place that gets 160 days of rain per year.

Unfortunately, we reached a stream that was washed out, probably from all the rain and ice melt from the warm weather the last few days. We could go no further which was disappointing because there was also a raging waterfall within 50 -60 yards of the washout that sounded like a jet engine. We could see it and feel its thunder but just couldn’t get a good look at it through all the trees. No Alaska hot tub today. Walking back down the hill was a piece of cake, or maybe I didn’t notice the burning in my legs and lungs because I was giddy, thinking how good my nap was going to be on a return to the boat. Moon and I were bushed. 

The following day was a day of rest. We puttered around and cleaned up the boat. In the afternoon an old red fishing boat with a couple came alongside and the captain asked if rafting to Ruthie Jeanne was okay. Normally, two boats on a buoy aren’t a great idea because the weight of both boats strains the tackle holding the buoy to the bottom. But the forecast for the night was for calm weather so I agreed to have the boat come along side and raft up.

                                                   The Tyyne, a commercial trolling boat. 

Not sure how old the fishing boat was but it didn’t come out of the fishing boat showroom in recent history. The couple anticipated taking the same hike we’d taken. I warned them about the washout area where Moon and I were turned back. She looked around the old trolling boat with its aged wood, rust and peeling paint and said to me with a slight grin, “as you can see, we’re not afraid of adventure.”

They were in their 40s and looked to be in good shape.  She was a “burned out veterinarian”, by her own admission, from Fort Collins, CO.  He was a retired family law/criminal defense attorney turned salmon trolling boat captain from Kasaan near Ketchikan.  They met on the Alaska Marine Highway ferry from Bellingham to Ketchikan. As soon at their backpacks were loaded, they were ready for a 3-day hike. After crawling into a plastic dinghy that looked like it might have come right off the shelf at Walmart and didn’t appear to be anywhere near “barnacle-proof”, they paddled away to the shore, gave us a wave and trotted off up the hill.

The following day we pulled the line from the buoy and backed away from the little red fishing boat. After a great stay in Bailey Cove the next trip was through Gedney Passage where, out of the blue, we lost our autopilot and the chart plotter radar was askew. We also got a radio call from a Seaborne Odyssey helm crew that told us our AIS (automatic identification system) icon that we broadcast to show our location to other watercraft was reporting Ruthie Jeanne moving through the water backwards. Luckily, we had enough cell reception to call the Garmin Marine support line. They were helpful, but we weren’t able to fix the problem right then. With enough electronics left to navigate safely, the glitches could wait until we returned to Ketchikan. We were going to be out of cell range for 11 days anyway.

I would have to pilot Ruthie Jeanne manually which is a tiring task on a long trip. The boat never seems to track easily in one direction, which is why an autopilot comes in handy with its continuous course corrections to the heading that’s selected. Without it there is always a little wind here or a little current there to push her off a straight-line course. In the grand scheme of things, there are worse problems to have.

We cruised through Shrimp Bay to see and hear two thundering waterfalls before rounding the point into Klu Bay, our stay for the night. Our hope was to tie up to the one buoy in the bay. Our luck ran out, the buoy was taken by a 50 foot yacht named Peregrine. We headed to the far end of the bay to scope out the anchoring possibilities, and then the radio came alive with “Ruthie Jeanne, Ruthie Jeanne, this is the Peregrine”. I replied to the captain and was informed that Peregrine was leaving and the buoy was ours if we wanted it. I thanked him and we tied up when Peregrine left, safe and sound at the buoy.  A blessing to be sure. 

Klu Bay had it all. A stream coming in to the little cove we were in, a hike to a lake, an old logging road to walk and supposedly, crab and prawns. This could be heaven. It turned out to be which heaven you would be talking about. 

It was tough getting crab that were the legal size of 6 ½”. After pulling up about 30 crab we finally landed a keeper. In WA, 6 ¼“ is the limit and we could have filled the boat if that was the limit here. But we don’t want to be greedy or think of ourselves as poachers, so one keeper was better than none.

Prawns, you say? We put the prawn trap out overnight and were anticipating a big haul in Shrimp Bay. Our electric pot puller heaved up 400 feet of line to a mildly disappointing total of seven prawns. However, that was fine for a prawn cocktail before Terry’s rockfish and salmon cake dinner. 

To be truthful our hike to the lake above the waterfalls wasn’t really a hike, it was more of a climb. The trail became a washed-out creek bed in places with all the rainfall they get here. In other places it was more like a muddy bog. The man-made log bridges over the wet spots and tiny streams had disintegrated in places and it looks like whoever kept up the trail had gone on vacation and decided not to come back. We hiked to the lake, took a picture to prove we were actually there and climbed back down to the shore swearing to somehow look for more moderate hikes. Moon and I looked at each other when we reached the boat and said, “maybe this hiking thing, isn’t for us”. We were bushed, again.

The following day we took a 2 mile walk along an old logging road next to a big stream that ran into the bay. The rainforest was thick with trees. This is bear country so we made noise to make sure a bear knew we were around. We also had a whistle, an air horn and bear spray if our noisiness didn’t do the trick. The climb elevation on the logging road was approximately 27 feet which suited us just fine compared with our previous “hikes”. The rainforest was filled with second growth trees, but old first growth stumps were still there. Some of the big ones looked as if the diameter was in the 6-to-7-foot range. The new growth trees looked to have a diameter of around 2-3 feet at most. It was a pleasant hike with no bears.

While we were out exploring in the dinghy, we stopped and talked to a couple from Bainbridge Island. They were in a new 28 foot aluminum fishing boat with dual outboards. All I could think about was the amount of gasoline those engines would burn at $5 a gallon. Ouch. Their ultimate goal was Glacier Bay National Park and Preserve, roughly 300 miles away. 

It was so quiet and calm at times the water acted as a mirror image of the sky.  I took this picture over the railing, right at the water the morning before leaving the cove. You can see the beach in the top of the photo. We left our lucky buoy behind and headed to Misty Fjords and Walker Cove.

Ed out.

 

Kichxaan Day 33

Ketchikan is named after Ketchikan Creek, which flows right through the city and empties into the Tongass Narrows. Tongass Narrows is the waterway that flows past Ketchikan. The Tlingit name for the Ketchikan Creek is Kitsch-hin. It served as a fishing camp for the Tlingit people for a hundred years until the town was established in 1885. Unfortunately, as in other areas of North America, the First Nation presence faded into the background in the name of progress. In modern Tlingit Ketchikan is rendered as Kichxaan. Salmon still run up this river to spawn in large numbers.  It’s a big draw for tourists and cruise ship inhabitants.

And Boy Howdy, when the ships come in the cruising tourists are in every nook and cranny of Ketchikan. The ships arrive in the morning and tie up at one of 4 berths right in front of the downtown area. There are two more berths north of town where the cruisers disembark, are loaded into buses and shipped into town. The Ketchikan cruise calendar identifies how many ships will be docked on what days and how many guests will arrive in those ships.  A quick glance at the June calendar shows June 16th as a big day for the sellers of trinkets, t-shirts and other fare. There will be 17,690 folks jumping ship looking for the best deal on a "I love Ketchikan" hoodie when all the berths are filled. 

The ships are in!

After leaving the ship, they attend the lumberjack show, a waterfall sightseeing tour, float plane excursions, hydrofoil rides, a cannery tour or any number of other attractions the city has to offer. By mid to late afternoon there is an instinctive call to return to the ship, much like the salmons call to run up the rivers to spawn. Except the cruiser’s call to the ship is for a nap and preparations for the evening feast.

The ships then leave in late afternoon or evening and head towards the next destination, usually Wrangell, Petersburg or Sitka. The ultimate goal of a trip like this is Glacier Bay, northwest of Juneau, in hopes of catching a glimpse of glacial ice calving into the bay. It’s supposed to be pretty spectacular. Ketchikan is normally the first or last stop on a 7-day cruise. 

Our slip in Thomas Basin marina where the the cruise ships dock.  There were no ship this day. 

No cruise ships? Streets are empty. 

Ketchikan sits on the southwest end of Revillagigedo Island. Bet you can’t say that the first time you try, or the second. The Misty Fjords National Monument Wilderness is located on the southeast, east and northeast sides of the island. Pleasure boaters cruise around Revillagigedo Island, a 100 mile loop if leaving Ketchikan and returning there. Some boaters cruise the loop clockwise, like we will, visiting Misty Fjords on the end of the loop. For some reason, most boaters cruise the in a counterclockwise fashion and visit the park on the first part of the journey. We’re really looking forward to seeing it.

 

Cruising through the central coast of British Columbia we were amazed by the size and height of the mountains as our travels took us through canals, reaches, narrows, passages, channels and straits. However, Alaska mountains are…whoppers. When we crossed the open waters of Dixon Entrance the snowcapped mountain ranges were a spectacle. I asked my best friend Siri how many peaks in Alaska were over 10,000 feet. She came back with info about the height of peaks in the USA that were above 14,000 ft. The first 16 of those peaks that were the tallest in the USA were in Alaska. Then, a couple in Colorado and California, then a few more in Alaska.  Amazing. 

Red skies at night, sailors delight.  Good weather tomorrow is expected. 

Our first stop will be in Yes Bay. (We just couldn’t say no.) …(Bada Boom).  

Ed out.

 

Civilization is okay.

We motored into Cow Bay Marina for a two-day stay.  They have a thing for cows here. One early entrepreneur barged in a herd of Holstein cattle to provide milk, meat, and cheese to the early settlers.  That seemed to be a big deal because the town has gone cow crazy ever since. Some of the traffic bollards and sidewalks are painted like the side of a Holstein cow. There is the fiberglass couch cow in front of the local tourist store. I was up early one morning and headed to the local coffee shop for a double Cowppuccino. 

It was a relief to reach Prince Rupert for several reasons. A good hot shower at the marina for one thing. Showering on Ruthie Jeanne is much like an act you might see in Vegas at a Cirque du Soleil show, complete with a tight tuck and half rotation necessary to wash the feet, a Double Twist Del Mar to reach the backside and elbows bent the wrong way to get those areas under the arms.  A full attention position works for reaching the ah…the ah, the gr, gro…the private area.  Washing the hair should be the easiest task to complete, but by this time in the cramped tiny shower I was almost too tired to lift my arms over by head and my elbows are bruised. 

We were glad to be here for another reason, too: walking. Being couped up on a boat is a wonderful thing but there isn’t much exercise to be had, particularly if the boat is bouncing around on choppy seas. Being able to get off the boat and walk as long as you want is a treat.  Walking bow to stern on Ruthie Jeanne is roughly 40 feet so to get any exercise at all would take several hundred laps around the deck and make me look crazy in the eyes of my shipmates.  

Thirdly, we got to replenish our fuel and food supplies so we are independent for another week or two until we arrive at another port. We can then be confident when reaching into the galley cabinet that there will be enough Skinny Pop popcorn to go around. We’ve spent so much time away from people and towns in a quiet, calm, relaxed environment, that I thought, “sometimes, civilization is ok”.

Prince Rupert is amazingly productive. As per our Douglas Guide that gives info on ports and anchorages, Prince Rupert has the deepest natural harbor in North American. Their burgeoning port operations load and unload container ships, one after the other. When their expansion is complete, they’ll process about 75% of what goes through a major port like Vancouver, BC. They are now rivals to the west coast ports in California and Seattle/Tacoma.

Besides containers, they also ship grain and forest products. The grain elevator was the largest one I’ve ever seen, towering over everything, including the ship it was loading. The proximity to coal, oil, and gas fields means shipping those products also.  When discussing all those industries it’s easy to forget it is a major fishing port, both commercial and recreational. We saw many fishing guides, out early and returning early with catches of big salmon. Hard to understand all this industriousness comes with a relatively small-town population of 12,000.

Eddie the Eagle.

There were many eagles flying around Prince Rupert. However, one in particular seemed to be the Sergeant-At-Arms in Cow Bay. He or she would maintain a serious No Fly zone around the marina and chase off any intruders. For the trouble, the fishing guides would occasionally flip him a salmon carcass they’d just finished flaying.  He would catch it in the air with his claws and fly off for a snack. He passed so close to the boat with a carcass in his claws we could have reached out and grabbed it. 

Prince Rupert had a good vibe to it. That positivity carried through to the big green refuse bins that carried uplifting messages. We called it Garbage Can Wisdom.  

We finally left Prince Rupert and Cow Bay Marina after a couple days of rest and recuperation from some long travel days. It was a beautiful sunny morning motoring through Venn Passage, that had a series of twists and turns, sometimes in water that wasn’t very deep. Prince Rupert airport is across the channel on a different island. We passed the airport ferry dock in a “strictly enforced” No Wake zone.  All the boating information suggested the same strict enforcement. That was probably for everybody except fishing guide boats. Six or seven of them passed us traveling around 20 knots with wakes that made us grab our coffee mugs before they spilled onto the deck.  Maybe they weren’t enforcing that day. 

We passed Matlakatla, a First Nation fishing village a few miles west of Prince Rupert. Then a funny thing happened.  A crow flew down and landed on our bow railing. Ive never seen a bird of any kind land on a moving boat. The crow stayed for 30 seconds, not enough time to grab our phones and take a picture.  Then he flew off. Unusual to say the least.

We moved through Venn Pass out into the wide-open spaces of Chatham Channel, dotted with its many small islets.  Then we turned north towards the Dundas Island chain which is just south of the US/Canadian Border at Dixon Entrance. We passed Green Island Light house, one of the Northern most light houses in BC. Dixon Entrance is approximately 15-20 miles of open ocean water, not as long as our passage through the Queen Charlotte Strait, but still a body of water to reckon with. 

Green Island Lighthouse.

We started out early from our Brundige Harbor anchorage on Dundas Island with an iffy weather report and turned back due to increasing wind and sloppy, choppy water conditions. We returned to our anchorage and decided to try again a few hours later. When those hours were up, we made our way out of the anchorage and it was “Yee Ha” all over again with conditions worse than our first attempt hours before. Back to the anchorage for the night and just in time for Terry to catch a 10-pound salmon.  It was worth the wait. The menu for dinner was salmon cakes. 

You can't see it, but there's bad water out there. This was in an protected anchorage. Tried twice, but its a no go to transit the entrance. 

The following morning, we left at 4:00 a.m. to very little wind and seas that were only 2-3 feet then they calmed altogether. Piece of cake and completely different from 12 hours before.  

Beautiful morning. It's a go to cross Dixon Entrance.  

We crossed the border in Dixon Entrance and the app for US customs made it a breeze to call in and clear customs. The rest of the day was calm waters and calm nerves. We cruised up Tongass Narrows and found a slip in Bar Harbor in Ketchikan.

Ed out.

Immense, Wild and Quiet

Immense, Wild and Quiet

Leaving the safety of a dock is part of the adventure of cruising to new destinations. Such is life, I suppose. We become explorers in a wilderness that we’ve not encountered before. The waterways, inlets, bays and anchorages are all new to us. It’s part thrilling and exciting, part scary, and part heightened sense of awareness, all wrapped into one.  Kind of like a wilderness funhouse, not sure what to expect next but looking forward to it.

What jumps out first when boating through the north coast of British Columbia is just how vast and towering the mountain ranges are compared with our tiny little boat. Ruthie Jeanne was in water 1800 feet deep, 50 yards from the shoreline and the cliffs would shoot out of the water almost straight up with some of the peaks on these islands reaching the 3000-5000 foot range or more.

And it’s wild, that’s for sure. Like having your very own aquarium or zoo, sans the glass or fence. Dolphins playfully danced in and out of our bow wave. Eagles were everywhere. Looking for water spouts to spot whales is always on the list of things to do.  We saw our first two humpback whales yesterday as they rolled over and dove with their huge tails following them down. Then they were gone. There are waterfowl, seals, and sea lions galore. Bears are next on the list of things to see.

And all things being equal, it’s so very quiet in this part of the world that you can hear the birds, waterfalls, rain and the sounds of nature without the drone of background noise found in the city. It is very peaceful and calming out here in the wilderness. It reminds me why I love being on the water. I was hooked the first time I sat in my first watercraft, an innertube, and floated lazily down the Little Big Horn River where I grew up in Sheridan Wyoming.

(Shearwater ramp and dock in the early morning before we headed to Rescue Bay.)

We found our way from the small fishing village of Shearwater into Seaforth Channel, north through Perceval Narrows, and ultimately to Rescue Cove, a safe anchorage out of the wind and seas, just like its name would suggest.  Early the next morning we headed out through skinny Jackson Passage and out into Princess Royale Channel on a long day to Bishop Bay. Princess Royale Island has the most Spirit Bears in all of Canada.  Spirit bears are brown bears that have a white fur and have great spiritual meaning for the First Nation People in the West Coast of BC.

                                     

(Rescue Bay on a pretty evening)

Waterfalls were everywhere. There were so many waterfalls in the mountains and cascading down into the saltwater I lost count. I stopped taking pictures of them because they seemed to be everywhere I looked.  Who wants to see 30 pictures of waterfalls? If I was lucky, maybe a couple of my family members would endure something like that but not many others.

(Here are 3 waterfalls. I have 27 others if you're interested.)

We traveled 8 hours out of Rescue Cove so we could enjoy the hot springs that overlooked Bishop Bay. The information about the Bay suggested there were three buoys that could be used in which to tie up instead of anchoring. Anchoring in this bay is somewhat difficult because it’s deep. We were a little worried about getting a buoy because some of the boaters we talked to in Shearwater were also headed to Bishop Bay to enjoy the hot springs.  We rounded the corner into the bay and saw one buoy and to our luck, it was empty. We seemed to have missed the crowd.

(This is the immensity of the mountains surrounding Bishop Bay. Big doesn't describe it.)

We tied up to the buoy and headed for a warm soak.  There was a bath pool and a soaking pool. It was so relaxing we almost melted after traveling many hours in a rocking boat. 

Two humpbacks swam into the bay but I couldn’t get a picture because they were so far away. So, although we’ve seen them, we’ve had no close encounters. 

When cruising through the inside passage there are frequently long stretched without cell or wifi availability.  Being so connected all the time it’s easy to forget that there are places with no coverage. Not having coverage kind of gives me the Heebie Jeebies.  It’s a strange feeling not being able to grab the phone whenever or wherever you are and request any information you might want. It’s been a long time since I’ve been more than 6 feet away from Siri except for a recent knee replacement surgery.

Like most of my friends and family my phone is within reach 24/7. I’ve been thinking it’s possible that Siri is not my best friend after all and I don’t have to respond immediately every time I hear the ding of an email, text or voicemail that just landed. Do I really have to get back to someone within minutes? It’s aggravating not being able to use the phone for any variety of reasons, but maybe that’s ok and I might be the healthier for it.

Day 22.  Still in Bishop Bay due to weather. Gale force winds are where we want to go. So, we sat safely in the bay. This is day 3 here and I imagine we’ll be here at least one more day before the weather improves and we can move.

Raining constantly. And the cold isn’t any fun either. There are mountains on all sides, that’s part of why we are protected.  The one across the bay is dusted with snow or what the Canadian weather forecaster calls “ice pellets”.  It looks to be at the 1000-foot level. Burrrrrr.  But I’m not complaining. Being stuck out of the wind and choppy seas in a beautiful place with a hot spring nearby and a waterfall 50 yards from the boat just doesn’t seem worthy of a complaint.

The Canadian Mounties cruised by, then stopped to do a “courtesy visit.”  They requested all manner of information about us and the boat. Passports, boat registration, title, etc. Then they wanted addresses and phone numbers. Then, why we entered Canada, how long we’ll be here, where we’re headed, and when we would be leaving Canadian waters. And lastly, what brand of Canadian Maple Syrup was our favorite. Just kidding about the syrup, ‘eh?

As irritating as their stop was, cloaked as a courtesy visit, they have a job to do keeping tabs on cross border crime and if we needed help in this neck of the woods where there are literally no services for miles on end, they’d probably be the first ones here to assist. 

                                                       (Ruthie Jeanne in Bishop Bay.)

Day 23. Rain. Gale force winds in the areas we’d like to go today. Storm and hurricane force winds where we’ve already passed through in the North Vancouver Island area. Looks like tomorrow will calm in our area, the central coast of British Columbia, so we’ll be able to take our leave and happily head toward Prince Rupert.  

Actually, no. Unfortunately, we woke this morning to issues. The head didnt work well, (but everything came out ok). Batteries are low. Engine won’t start. The heater was connected to the starter battery for some unknown reason. It was chilly last night so the heater was on quite a bit which ran down the battery. Normally, nothing is wired to the starter battery so it has enough juice to start the engine. We’ll rewire it in Prince Rupert. Luckily, our little Honda generator was able to top off the batteries enough for a start. Big relief. The only thing we couldn’t fix was the cold and rain, so no problem really.  We spent the day problem solving boat issues with our onboard mechanical engineer, Scott Wilson, then made our last voyage to the hot springs for a soak.  It was a good one.

The following day we left Bishop Bay behind, finally.  We turned into Frasier Reach and headed to Kumealon Inlet for a long 10-hour run. Terry, Scott and I were all in the upper helm looking at the snow on the mountain tops when a humpback whale jumped entirely out of the water. It was shocking to see that such a massive creature had enough energy to move that body clean out of the water.  We all saw it. We all shouted “WOW” at the same time. The huge splash when the whale landed back into the water was almost as impressive as the jump. The whole thing lasted maybe 5 seconds but I’ll remember it for a long time. Then, we watched the whale roll once and didn’t see him again. What a great way to start out a long day. 

We arrived and found a safe anchorage in Kumealon Inlet, anchored for the night and hit the hay.

Day 25

    (Leaving Kumealon Inlet on a calm morning.  This picture taken with an iPhone when it was dark.)

Up early to catch a good tide and calm waters, we travelled 5 hours to Prince Rupert from our protected anchorage in Kumealon Inlet.  Nearing a major port, you would expect to see increased traffic and we did.  There was a tug towing a fishing lodge on a big barge. Connected to the barge were 17 aluminum fishing boats, one after the other like a mother hen followed by 17 offspring in a single file. The barge will be towed to wherever the fish are running, anchored and the guests flown in by sea plane.  There were water taxis, fishing boats, shrimpers, container ships, BC Ferries, tugs towing a little bit of everything, pleasure boats and an American Coast Guard cutter, probably headed to Alaska. The oddest thing we observed was a “houseboat” that seemed to be out of place in an area where weather and water conditions can be severe. It’s the type of boat used in relatively protected waters like Lake Roosevelt or Lake Coeur d’ Alene. And it came complete with the fiberglass slide off the back end which would be a thrill until you hit the 50-degree water. Yikes.

All for now.

Ed out.

Ride ’em Cowboys!!!

We warmed up the engine, readied ourselves and the boat, and headed out of the bay from Port McNeill on a misty early morning.  The seas were relatively calm but with enough chop to give a boost to the coffee that helped wake us up.  Our destination was crossing the Queen Charlotte strait or a safe anchorage if the weather and water wouldn’t cooperate. Although the conditions continually changed with wind, choppy water, and rain, they didn’t really worsen (until later). We decided to make the transit after passing the last safe anchorages in Miles Inlet in the BC mainland.

The swells continued to increase in size from a couple of feet to 4-5 feet.  Now, I’ve never been out in ocean swells before, so my experience in these types of conditions is zilch.  Terry and I have been in some terrible sea conditions but usually in areas where we could duck in out of hazardous conditions if we had to.  But this time, we passed the go-no go point as the swells built and there was now no place to go but north.

Rounding Cape Caution is the halfway mark in Queen Charlotte Strait when heading to Alaska. It’s one of two places in the entire journey that take place in open ocean conditions. That means ocean swells, which eventually built to 8-9 feet and were 9 seconds apart. If I were riding a bus, I would have been hastily grabbing the stop cord to exit at the next corner.

But no such luck. It was a carnival ride for the next 4 hours. I looked over at our crew mate, Scott Wilson, for some reassurance because he’s had blue water experience and his only comment was, “this isn’t bad”.  Ha, it sure seemed bad to me.  I was ready to call the Coast Guard for a rescue and had visions of being stranded in the dinghy that was bobbing up and down like I was riding a bucking bronco while watching the boat sink. But in the end the swells drew down, the chop lessened and the seas calmed, as did my nerves. And my rookie ocean swell experience helped me get though a similar but shorter version of the ocean swells the next day. I now land somewhere between a rookie and a veteran ocean swell rider.  I think they would call that JV, junior varsity. 

On a positive note, the clouds were beautiful. The open ocean has a beautiful landscape all its own. We boated though a number of squalls along with the pelting rain and wind. There were periods of cool temperatures when we passed through the squalls then the sun would peek through the clouds and warm us.

We rounded the south end of Calvert Island to calm waters and into protected Pruth Bay where Hakai Institute is located.  They conduct long term scientific research at remote locations on the coastal margins of British Columbia.  Go here www.hakai.org if you’d like more information.  There is a path to the west side of the island where there is a sandy beach a mile wide, wind swept and desolate but gorgeous at the same time. It was open to the ocean, so there were plenty of driftwood treats to look at before we left. 

So, despite the horror of ocean swells, it’s been a couple of pretty good days.  We are in Shearwater, BC, a fishing village. We head out tomorrow.  No pictures in this blog.  Not enough band width to send. 

Ed out. 

Hello All, 

This is day 10.  We are in Port McNeill at the northern end of Vancouver Island waiting for our crew, Scott Wilson, who will accompany us part way to Ketchikan. We’ve come this far many times before, but no further. From here it's a gateway to the Northern BC coast, the Broughton Archipelago and its many islands and the primary route for those lucky boaters headed to Alaska.  

Our trip up through the Gulf Islands and points North has been relatively uneventful.  One day is beautiful, the next two days it’s like someone turned on a faucet. A large faucet. a Couple days ago, in a rush to get inside the boat and out of the rain, I hastily grabbed the cabin door and pulled. Unfortunately, I was able to get all of me inside the cabin with the exception of my ring and middle finger of my left hand when the door slammed into my hand. I screamed like a 4-year-old who skinned his knee. Terry wasn’t having it and suggested some ice. I now have two regular-colored digits on my left hand and two with a purplish hue.  And just so you know, the ice didn’t help much. 

This is a quiet anchorage in Port Harvey.  Pretty, safe and quiet. 

Part of the enjoyment of this trip is watching all manner of watercraft passing by. Tugs towing large barges of logs fresh from the cut. There was a plethora of fishing boats, fast inflatables taking people to bear and whale sightings, boats for crabbing and shrimping, water taxies, and other pleasure boaters, both sail and power. We were passed by a National Geographic “small ship” taking guests to Alaska. The ship reminded me of Jacques Cousteau, with his French accent, narrate his underwater documentaries on TV when I was a kid. I can still hear him say, "We shood nevair, nevair take our environment for granted."

Several hours before we got to Port McNeill, we motored through a maze of logs in the water, hundreds of them. That was more than I’ve ever seen in one spot, but on the shore of the islands we passed, were thousands of logs. There must have been a barge or log boom mishap somewhere along the way for that amount of timber to be floating around the water. There was enough wood to build a small development, no kidding.  I would think a salvage outfit would make a killing gathering up the number of logs we saw.

Besides the rain, it’s just a little bit chilly as Terry would say. But that’s what it’s like here at the end of April and the first part of May at the North end of Vancouver Island. 

Ed out. 

                                 

Alaska, here we come.

It's been 2 years in coming. Only 10 days left to go. Our original Alaska cruise was scheduled just when the pandemic started to infect our plans, so to speak. With the Canadian border closed to non-essential travel, we just weren't welcome.  You could, however, choose to travel up the outside of Vancouver Island in the open ocean or up through the inside passage, only stopping to get gas but not get off the boat.  Unfortunately, if that option was chosen, by the time we crossed the US Canadian border into Alaska in the small spaces of a boat for 10-15 days, my wife and I would probably be picking apart each others personality and idiosyncrasies, line item by line item.  Luckily that wasn't the case and we waited for two years. Now is the time.  

We will surely miss our family and friends. That's the unfortunate tradeoff of taking a trip of a life time. But we'll chime in every now and then with some words and pictures so you can enjoy seeing and reading about what we will be able to see and experience.  So come on along with us on our cruise to Alaska.  

Ed out.

Big Beijing, China

Well Hello Beijing. There are 35 million Chinese that live in the greater Beijing area. and on their day off they all visit the Forbidden City, a huge palace complex in the center of the city. It was crowded to say the least. For you history buffs, The Forbidden City served as the home of some serious emperors and their households as well as the ceremonial and political center of Chinese government for almost 500 years. The Forbidden City was constructed so that if you didn't get an invite inside...you definitely weren't getting in. No crashing this party. Walls 50 feet high, moats, guard houses/lookouts, twenty foot doors a foot thick and walls within walls were just a few of the touches that were employed.  If an intruder actually got in, they'd never get out alive which is why it's lasted more than 500 years.  As in other temples and palaces in Asia, this huge place was constructed without nails and used joints and other architectural fixes to do the trick. An impressive place. 

Funny thing, if I didn't see the Chinese folks running around all over Beijing I'd think I was in New York. It has the same type of energy, they dress the same, they drive the same cars, they shop the same, the families act the same out in public but they're Chinese, that's the difference. Good or bad, they look Americanized. In many ways, they are just like us.   

However, there are differences.  The government is a subtle but all encompassing presence. It's kind of creepy.  Our tour guide told us that Beijing, with so many millions of inhabitants, is very safe, and I believe them. (Step out of line and they will take you away.)  And there is a subtle existence of discomfort when a local talks about something like Tienanmen Square, which our guide termed the Tienanmen Massacre.  When visiting Tienanmen Square the place was heavily guarded.  Like they want to make sure that if the students ever thought about protesting again...maybe they should think again. Anyway, anywhere we went we did feel safe.  

A few other differences...the men like to hock one up and spit.  Our cab driver did this and since I caught some wind when he opened the window to hang one out, I actually ducked. Thought that was an anomaly but I observed other drivers and guys on the street do it regularly. Never saw a woman do the same.  They do have standards. And may I chat briefly about the men's restrooms?  There are alot of no smoking areas around. So when the men start to have a nic fit they head to the restrooms.  Never in the open, they always grab a stall, close the door and light up. You would guess that the restroom would smell kind of like...you know...how restrooms smell, odorous? Fetid?  Not here.  They smell exactly like a full ashtray...a large ashtray.  However, as Terry tells me, the women's powder room does not have the same, ah,  "fragrance" as the men. Speaking of women, just about everywhere we traveled, women seemed to be subservient to the men, to one degree or another. America has made such great strides to level the playing field in gender equality...that it becomes noticeable when one human being is under the thumb of another. However, not my country so I kept my thoughts to myself. 

Smog.  They have a problem here. Air pollution particulate levels are measured on a 6 tiered scale from 0-50 which is an acceptable range to >500 which is considered an Emergency. Several days we were there it was above the 500 level and we work masks.  Several weeks prior to our visit to Beijing they recorded levels in the 700-800 levels.  Not so good. They're trying to get a handle on it. Not all cars can drive each day of the week. Industry is fined and limited from functioning if the levels get too high.  I would say that 90% of the motorbikes and scooters are electric. So normally when walking down the street you hear a cacophony of scooters.  Not in Beijing. They putter down the street as quiet as a church mouse. Electric cars and hybrids are on rise. Anyway, they are trying.  

The Great Wall was pretty interesting.  6000 kilometers or 3728 miles long, depending on who is measuring. It was built to prevent marauding nomads from invading the kingdoms. It also was a trade route and allowed different regions to collects taxes and control immigration and emigration. There where initially many walls, but eventually they were connected up. At one point, the wall was guarded by over 1 million Chinese guardsmen.  A pretty monumental task. 

We visited quite a bit of Art while in Beijing.  Our hotel, The Eclat, was designed and built by Hong Kong's George Wong, an architect.  He was a big supporter of art and was also exhibited art around the world, particularly in Asia and Europe.  Our hotel was filled to the brim with great art and has the largest collection of Salvador Dali Sculptures in China. It was fantastic to be able to see it all.  

Terry contemplating the Great Wall 

Well, there you have it everybody.  We just arrived back home and I wanted to finish this off.  Hope you have enjoyed.