Thirty-one days, fifteen hundred nautical miles, we have now completed our sailing journey of 2012. We explored remote regions of the Inside Passage, witnessed the wildness of British Columbia from close vantage. Wolves, eagles, porpoise, dolphins and whales shared their homeland and waters.  Home for them but new horizons for us.

We will go sailing again and in all likelihood, we will go further into new territory... and newer horizons.

Ohana

Ebb Current Bird Rocks, Strait of Juan de Fuca

The strong ebb in the morning of July 5th carried us at 10+ knots from Rosario Strait into the Strait of Juan de Fuca and on toward Admiralty Inlet just in time for the big flood of the afternoon south into Puget Sound. We would make the long run home traversing 75 miles and arriving at our home port, Bainbridge Island by dinner.

Moonrise Dogfish Bay (9:30pm)

Sunrise Strait of Georgia near Gabriolla Passage (5:00am)

Sunrise, exit Dogfish Bay to Strait of Georgia

Sunrise, Strait of Georgia

We weighed anchor at Dogfish Bay prior to sunrise. We would catch the building ebb current south on the Strait of Georgia to the San Juan Islands. Near Patos Island the current would reach a smooth four knots, allowing us to make the Customs dock at Roche Harbor by 1:00pm.

Passing storm front as we cross Strait of Georgia

Gull 

Bald Eagle

Two common inhabitants of the coastal waters occupy the same breakwater wall at Westview Harbour. Both birds faced each other a mere thirty yards apart and both have mastered the avian form of a "poker face".

Westview Fuel Station

A fuel dock can be a welcome sight for a cruiser, especially the more north one goes. Cruisers along the inside passage cannot always rely on wind and often must deal with apposing currents. Thus, fuel to power their engines is a necessity. Knowledge of one's fuel consumption is imperative. Typically, volume consumed per hour is the key metric. Ohana burns about 0.75 gallons per hour. At 6 knots cruising speed, that equates to about 8 nautical miles per gallon. Ohana holds 85 gallons of fuel or 680 nautical miles of range. However for planning purposes, 600 nm is a reasonable range estimate, but more importantly, 100 hours would be the safer planning unit to use.

Pacific Grace

In the pouring rain and twenty knots of breeze, the Pacific Grace and Pacific Swift, two northbound training schooners, passed us on our southbound approach to Savary Island. Pacific Grace, viewed here had just experienced a mishap with their large foresail which can be seen dragging through the water as the crew awaited what appeared to be an unplanned training exercise.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sail_and_Life_Training_Society

Strong winds came as the storm front met our arrival at Cape Mudge. We had timed the slack at Seymour Narrows and slid through with the final pulse of the flood which had topped 14 knots just two hours prior to our arrival. The race against the turning tide began immediately south of Seymour. We fought our way around the cape against 3.5 knots of ebbing current and a building wind. An unexpected run and bite of salmon added at least two dozen fishing boats to the environs off the cape. We watched as one nearby boat landed a twenty plus pounder and decided to try our hand but with no such results. After thirty minutes of dropping a leaded herring, we threw the engine in gear and set the stay and main to beat against the rips and building seas. We had our sights set on Stag Bay on the northern side of Hernando Island however the seas and winds at 9pm in the evening were putting that goal in question. After rounding Wilby Shoals on the southern tip of Quadra, we turned for Rebecca Spit and ran with the weather a final seven miles to protection and a very late but hot dinner. We dropped our hook in the waning light at the southern end of Drew Harbour not far from the campsites along shore. A hearty soup was soon simmering on the stove as we listened to and watched the firework displays from the jovial campers celebrating their national birthday. Sometime before midnight, the wind in the halyards replaced the cracks and whistles from shore and sleep was completely welcome.

Today, we will cast off from Blind Channel docks near noontime, ride the flood to catch slack at Seymour Narrows and likely anchor at Rebecca Spit on the east shore of Quadra Island. Timing is especially important today as arriving early or late to Seymour slack at 4:44pm would be not only unfashionable but downright awkward. Seymour current today reaches a maximum of 14 knots at 1:15pm.

Sunrise Blind Channel Resort

The fog lifted yesterday morning as we entered Johnstone Strait. The next five hours would see us ride flood and following winds southward down the strait, at times reaching 10+ knots speed over ground (SOG). SOG can become an emotional barometer for sailors. The faster you sail, the lighter your spirits. It was a jovial day down Johnstone. Even the sea life was frolicking in the speedy currents. White sided dolphins, Dall porpoise and possibly Spinner Dolphins by their aerobatic antics however Spinners are typically a tropical dolphin, at least by the book. We left Johnstone as the flood eased and made our way up Mayne Passage to Blind Channel, on the dock by 3:30pm with the unparalleled friendly and able assistance of the staff at the resort who provide guidance as to dockside currents, angle of approach and hands on help with the lines. Not to mention a "welcome back" and quick review of the services available, schedule and layout. Phil, the patriarch of the family run operation keeps watchful eye on the guests and is quick to hop on his soft-tired mountain bike to make a coasting descent from his house to assist with docking a newcomer or to rendezvous with a guest wandering toward the general store.

Spout Bay

A long day from Skull Cove across Queen Charlotte Strait found us sailing through the mist and patchy fog to a familiar anchorage - Spout Bay on the north side of Hanson Island facing Blackfish Sound. We  tucked close to the western shoreline and dropped the hook in forty-five feet of glassy water. The following morning fog was only slightly lifting by 5:30am.  We would weigh anchor at 7am, exit through a foggy Blackney Passage and into Johnstone Strait to catch the big flood. "Securite, securite, securite. Forty foot sail, southbound, western shore, Blackney Passage". I reported our presence in response to a passenger ship who had just announced northbound arrival to Blackney. We had their AIS and radar image but it was good to make the visual confirmation when the 200 foot vessel appeared half mile ahead, center channel through a thinning fog at the south end of Blackney.

Early morning incoming tide waves rock us awake.

Lone Eagle near  Skull Cove

We left Skull Cove for the second time. This protected bay southeast of Cape Caution again provided welcome refuge from rough seas. One day earlier, we left Dawson's Landing in calm, drizzling conditions and made for the Cape. Near Egg Island the seas were throwing two foot wind waves whipped by 16 knots of gusty breeze. Only a mild example of the range of emotions displayed by the Cape. We would go around. Approaching the Cape and two miles off, the wind was now more steady at 18 knots and the waves were building. Skull Cove was only nine miles away.  We could turn, head downwind and run for the cover of Fly Basin. We decided to press on, endure the conditions and slog our way to Skull. We put the Cape astern but were now making three knots against three foot waves and a twenty knot wind.  It was 2:30pm. At 4:30pm we had tacked twice, making longer runs out away from shore in an effort to ease the force of the waves and to gain position for a smoother angle of approach to Skull. We were flying the staysail for balance and using the engine to make between two and five knots depending on the waves. We knew we could turn and run as the wind was parallel to the coast but we could now see McEwan Rock and the entry to Skull across the white caps which were peaking closer to four feet with steep faces aggravated by the apposing flood tide. One long tack out to Storm Islands and we would turn toward McEwan with twenty-five knots of gusty wind two points off the starboard bow and make safe harbor... by 6:30pm.

Gatekeeper at Skull Cove

Even eagles get wet. After yesterday's sail, we could relate to this eagle's appearance.

Gulls Adrift

Gulls would rather stand than sit, or so it appears.  This raucous group had found a grandstand afloat in Queen Charlotte Strait. Most seemed happier to be at water level. Less tippy. Calm seas reveal a variety of perching options and the gulls will vie for every post. The ones on the upper deck here are unpopular when random waves rock the whole stand.  Plus there's the added concern on the lower deck, "Hey you up there, did you just drop some food or...?".

June 28,  2012 - We are tethered dockside at Dawson's Landing. With yesterday's favorable wind and tides, we could not pass up the chance to make the long run wing and wing down Fisher Channel from Ocean Falls (7+ knots most of the way). The trade off was missing the sail and fishing down the outside, but weather had turned a bit snotty out there so perhaps all was for the best. We will have to save a visit to Kayak Cove and the amazing fishing grounds around the Goose Group on the outside for another trip. But many thanks to Jim at Ocean Falls for sharing very detailed sailing and fishing directions which give me great confidence that we will return to that area as soon as we can.

This morning we will fuel up here at Dawson's as soon as they open and then make for Fly Basin.  Fly is what is termed locally as a "bomb proof"anchorage, excellent protection in all storm conditions. We will anchor at Fly Basin poised to scoot around Cape Caution like a bad dog on a good carpet. Sorry for that, it just seemed appropriate as the whole while we may have a nervous look, be moving as fast as possible and feel we are getting away with something.

Church and Former Restaurant at Ocean Falls

Ocean Falls "Fork in the Road"

Walking through the old town site of Ocean Falls forces one to consider the vulnerability of individuals and communities to their local economies. Overgrown lanes lead to now absent homesites which overlooked this pastoral mountain setting. Some buildings survived like the green roofed church while most others are in the process of being devoured by natural elements and some vandalism.

Signage at Ocean Falls

At the top of the dock ramp at Ocean Falls one may find all the critical directions necessary.

Ocean Falls

The water of Links lake pours over the dam at Ocean Falls. Abandoned mill buildings and homes lie in ghost ruins below the dam.

Ocean Falls

The town of Ocean Falls has a fascinating but somewhat sorrowful history. Once Ocean Falls was a thriving community of 5000 inhabitants with the Province's second largest mill and a source of hydroelectric power to supply electricity to surrounding communities. In the 1970s the owner of the mill closed down operations, the Province attempted to take over but also gave up and the town was mostly abandoned. Quaint homes nestled in a gorgeous mountain setting with a tennis club, olympic swimming pool and terraced alpine gardens were bulldozed under.  At least most homes were destroyed before the remaining inhabitants stood in front of the dozers to prevent the total destruction of all buildings...and so Ocean Falls was left.  Half destroyed, mostly abandoned and soon decaying in the harsh BC coastal environment. Now a few folks eke out a living by supporting a modest cruising destination as well as providing food and lodging for loggers working in the area...and there is the dam to operate which still supports the communities of Bella Bella and Shearwater. I am fairly certain, if not already done, there is a rich opportunity for a documentary piece on the past present and future of Ocean Falls.

Crabbing

Austin bailed large volumes of water from the dinghy in preparation for dropping the crab trap in Alston Cove. Our expectations were high with the juicy remains of a nice red snapper for bait.

Crab legs

We were not disappointed by crabbing in Alston Cove.  Seven crab in ten hours. Three over nine inches across the shell. We dropped our trap in thirty feet of water about fifty feet from a rock strewn but grassy shore and 100 feet from our anchor at a plus ten tide which would drop about eight feet by morning.

Aspens

Amidst the millions of acres of pines, an occasional stand of aspens adds a splash a lighter green. These trees lined the narrow fairway as we entered Alston Cove. We backtracked from Bay of Plenty further up Laredo Inlet when a williwaw struck and we decided more protection from weather would make for a better nights sleep. We would miss the plentiful crabbing in Bay of Plenty, but Alston Cove would show us that crabs abound up and down Laredo.

Gillen Harbour

 At anchor in Gillen Harbour of the Estevan Group. Gillen offers excellent protection in all conditions with good mud and sand bottom. Estevan Group boldly sits exposed to Hecate Strait and is known for its abundant fish life. We would appreciate both the protection and the fish.

Head of Gillen Harbour

Remains of Cannery at Lowe Inlet

A once thriving cannery at the head of Lowe Inlet has long since been abandoned.  Reflections from the remaining pilings tell of a past sense of order and strength.  Lack of foresight for managing a once flourishing fisheries is depicted by the space above the weathered timbers.

Bald Eagle

A very healthy bald eagle watches patiently for surfacing fish as low tide creates shallows near the drying flats of Lowe Inlet

Verney Falls

 Austin gets a close look at Verney Falls at the head of Lowe Inlet during high tide.

Lowe Inlet

A rare warm day in June at Lowe Inlet. Our anchorage was across the bay beneath the snow capped peak.

Austin at Verney Falls Lowe Inlet

We packed spinning gear and the boat horn (bear horn) for our hike around Verney Falls up Kumowdah River to Lowe Lake. The fairly non-existent trail made for tough going as we dropped out onto a rock ledge overlooking the falls. We clamored boulders and reentered the thick woods close to the falls when I came upon a hollow under a huge fir. A small car could fit in the hollow and the ground was well padded down.  I slowly turned and retraced my steps back to Austin who queried my concern. I said, "No need to run but lets call this hike done". There had been an account of another hiker coming across a bear den while traversing the falls and I believe we discovered his path".

 Ogden Channel

We weighed anchor 5:30am in Crap Trap Cove, after collecting our empty crab trap (blamed on lack of adequate bait). Our destination - Lowe Inlet by way of Ogden and Grenville Channels. On approach to Grenville, we knew we would be in for fog navigation.  Ogden was socked in and visibility rapidly decreased to a disorienting few feet. We relied on chart plotter, AIS and radar to keep our bearing along the shore and out of ship traffic.  Austin was on bow watch and the boat horn at ready. It was a relief to emerge from the fog into Grenville.

Lone Wolf

Austin with Spotting Scope

Early morning June 21st, Austin spies a wolf cruising the drying flats behind our anchorage at Lowe Inlet. Wolves have been know to frequent this area, as well as the grizzlies that come to feed on spawning salmon leaping the falls at high tide. Although anchoring directly in the current of the falls is possible, we chose to drop our hook in the adjacent bay, within one hundred meters.

Halibut - 30lb

We slowed along the southern tip of Secret Cove on the western shore of Porcher Island and dropped a 10oz crippled herring lure to 70 feet. Then with a great deal of commotion in the cockpit we were able to hoist this fine fish aboard.

Islet North of Dundas Island

Early morning light played on the glassy sea as we exited Brundige Inlet and headed south through Caamano Passage.  We would sail later down the outside in Hecate Strait to Welcome Harbour on Porcher Island.

Brundige Inlet, Dundas Island

Reached Alaskan Border

We crossed into Alaska north of Dundas Island, snapped a corny photo and turned for secure anchorage in Brundige Inlet on Dundas - safe from everything except the flies. We would batten down the hatches early in the eve and take refuge down below.  We weighed anchor in the morning before the flies awoke!

We have been "off grid" for a week or more, exploring the "outside", as they say here. That's the outside of the Inside Passage. The side of the islands, islets and reefs exposed to Dixon Entrance and Hecate Strait. The side that sees fewer cruisers and just the more bold local fishermen who possess the local knowledge about the local uncharted rocks. We have zigzagged southward going outside then ducking back up some remote inlets and back then to the coast logging many miles and unforgettable experiences.

The following Posts are a quick look back over the past nine days, starting where we left off in Prince Rupert - June 17, 2012
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Yesterday, we “slept in” more by accident than design. I reached for the smart phone leaning back against the forward bulkhead cradled in the narrow, cupped teak shelf. The bright crisp white digital numbers sharply displayed 7:00AM. Hmmm… my biological hard drive slowly whirred trying to process the meaning of these numbers. Oh yah, that’s the time we wanted to be at the fuel dock in order to catch the big outgoing ebb. I let my head settle back into the soft warm pillow and began randomly processing various bits of information collected during the past 24 hours. I listened.  No rain sounded on the coach roof. Will there be fog today? Are we going to head out late and try to reach the US border?  What will Tiger shoot on the final day of the US Open? I couldn’t even grip a golf club today. How do my damaged fingers feel? I held up my left hand for examination. Looks OK. But damn, why does my back hurt now? Guess I’ll get up and start moving the muscles. Coffee. Hope there’s time for coffee. Hey, it’s Father’s Day. That’s good. Whatever we do today, it’s Father’s Day.

En route to the galley stove, I peered out the glassed window of middle weatherboard in the gangway. The fuel dock was already jammed with fishing trawlers and a couple more working boats impatiently treaded water nearby. Austin stirred in the aft bunk. “Hey, it’s 7, what do you think?”, I relayed the first data of the day.  Within moments Austin nose was an inch from the glassed weatherboard looking at the crowded fuel dock. He blinked a few times trying to clear his sleepy view through the slightly fogged window. “It’s still OK, probably just the morning rush. We can get in by 8:30, out by 9 and still catch a push north.” Austin’s optimism was always refreshing and he was usually spot-on correct in the matters of anything logistical. We would go for the border today.

My father was a man of few words. But I recall him saying with some conviction, “It’s useful to have goals”. In my life, I’ve probably sailed downwind more than he would have approved of, but occasionally I get a destination in mind that requires some tacking back and forth. Yet sometimes, arriving seems only briefly satisfying and maybe a bit anticlimactic. In hindsight, the journey with heartfelt ambition was more significant. Knowing my dad, I’m pretty sure that was his point. Thus, perhaps genetically or otherwise inclined, within our journey northward to “new horizons”, at least as a worthy side note, Austin and I have had a goal in mind – reach and cross the US border between Alaska and Canada by sailboat from Seattle. Not a huge goal certainly by most sailing logs but a goal nevertheless. A goal that required a team, that revealed dependencies work both ways, each member relying on the other in various capacities, that allowed a strengthening of bond between father and son. On June 17, 2012 at 4:30 PM PDT, we sailed across the border just north of Dundas Island on an easterly approach to Dixon Entrance. Thirteen days after leaving Bainbridge, eleven travel days, six hundred and twenty five nautical miles, seven degrees of latitude north and eight degrees of longitude west. We reached our goal…and by coincidence, on Father’s Day.

Cow Bay Prince Rupert

Across from the Yacht Club, Cowpuccinos coffee shop, Opa Sushi and a butcher and custom meat shop around the far corner. Another couple of blocks leads to Safeway where we restocked on milk, juice and fresh produce...and boxes of cookies. The people of cow town are friendly and energetic. This could be any small college town's hangout district, on a small scale. Opa's may be the freshest and finest quality sushi ever to slide down my gullet.

Prince Rupert Yacht and Rowing Club - 1930

Prince Rupert Rowing and Yacht Club

Smile's

Enjoying the weather break, we took to shore for a walkabout in the local area surrounding the waterfront. The Atlin Terminal, adjacent to PRR&YC, has been developed in support of cruise tourism with a B&B and gift shops.  The historical establishments such as Smile's and the nearby Breakers Pub offer the old ambience of the fishing harbor. Within a couple of blocks there is a BC Historical Museum which for $6 one may spend easily one hour or more studying and appreciating the historical culture of native inhabitants and the impact of the fur traders and others that came into their tribal lands. Well worth the visit.

Container Ship at Anchor - Prince Rupert

The rain poured on into the lazy Saturday at Cow Bay in Prince Rupert Harbour. Very few signs of human activity could be seen save for the random coming and going at the Petro Canada fuel dock aft of our berth in the Prince Rupert Yacht and Rowing Club. The immediate vicinity on shore offers a quaint coffee shop, Cowpuccinos and a long established pub, The Breakers. One takes you to noon and the other sees you through the balance of the day, provided no other orders of business call. We took coffee and a bagel at Cowpuccinos but retired to Ohana for planning purposes:
Tentative Itinerary (subject to whims and weather):
June 17 (Day 13): Prince Rupert to cross border and return to Brundige on Dundas Island
June 18 (Day 14): North tip Porcher Island
June 19 (Day 15): South tip Porcher Island
June 20 (Day 16): Lowe Inlet off Grenville Channel (waterfall anchorage)
June 21 (Day 17): Estevan Group (fishing)
June 22 (Day 18): Surf Inlet (Spirit Bear sightings)
June 23 (Day 19): Saint Johns (fishing)
June 24 (Day 20): Ellerslie Lake (best falls in NA per Don and Reanne Hemingway, dinghy to lagoon)
June 25 (Day 21): Ocean Falls (crabbing, unlimited fresh water, free internet with very low dock fee, resupply)
June 26 (Day 22): Namu (salmon running up inlet)
June 27 (Day 23): Smith Sound (staging for rounding Cape Caution)
June 28 (Day 24): Sullivan Bay (golf for slip fee and a "hi" to marina manager)
June 29 (Day 25): Blind Channel
June 30 (Day 26): Cortez Island
July 1 (Day 27): Hornby Island
July 2 (Day 28): Roche Harbor (US Customs)
July 3 (Day 29): James Island
July 4 (Day 30): Bainbridge

Cirrus "Horse Tails" 

We exited Baker Inlet through fog shrouded Watts Narrow (seen in the valley of the dark hills on the left of the scene, above). Within six hours, the storm would hit. Hecate Strait would register a Storm Warning status with 48 knot sustained winds and gusts to 59 knots. Seas would build ten fold in 12 hours from 0.5 meter to 5 meters. We would be safely to the protection of Prince Rupert with Austin's excellent weather predicting and planning skills. I should point out that Austin's forecast was accurate from three days prior and that official predictions progressively came around to nearly match but still fell short on the timing and ferocity. Well done Austin!

All was not uneventful in Baker Inlet. The windlass would exact its toll. The pain has finally eased this evening so I am going to bed and will tell the story tomorrow. Beware the windlass.

Sleep was welcome, deep and sound. The storm howled through the rigging and Ohana bucked and pulled at her dock lines. Two spring lines aft were taught and holding.  We slept.

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Next morning:

Appreciation of this next excerpt from our voyage calls for a brief anatomical review and functional description of a windlass. A windlass is a metallic monster that squats near the bow of the boat and eats chain and growls fiercely. Not even a grizzly would dare mess with this beast. But this creature can be tamed and its chain devouring passion harnessed for practical purposes. Mechanically, the windlass is a powerful pulley with deep teeth seated in a steel drum that can rotate in either direction, and hoist or deploy hundreds of pounds of chain and anchor. An electric motor with wrenching torque is operated by a capable seaman often with foot controls mounted on the deck near the windlass. Oh, and one more thing, the foot controls are equipped with hard covers that are lifted back exposing the working switch which is activated by applying pressure, typically by stepping on and depressing the switch with one’s foot. Use of the foot ensures that the operator’s hands, clothing, hair etc. are safely away from the turning drum, or gypsy.

Now you may be getting a sense of where this is going…and it’s not pretty. Warning, the following description is for mature audiences only. We arrived at the head of Baker Inlet near 7:30PM and were going to share the mountainous amphitheater with a fellow boater from Washington State. A trawler, Skylark, from Bellingham hailed us on VHF16. We switched to CH83 and had a friendly chat about cruising plans, favorite destinations and finally wishing each other safe voyage at sign off. This call occurred after our anchor was deployed but not before the chain was secured for the night.  I returned to the bow, kneeled between the “up” and “down” foot controls each with protective cover in the lifted position. This next move is critical as it involves grabbing the chain in front of the windlass, pulling a very small amount of slack and fitting a “chain stop” in the crotch of one link. The “chain stop” is a two inch square piece of tapered stainless steel that swivels on a half-inch steel pin mounted slightly above the chain and forward of the windlass. Its job is to transfer the weight of the chain and anchor to its point of contact on the one link, thus relieving the windlass of unnecessary and potentially damaging strain. More than 150 feet of 5/8 HT chain was deployed so obtaining slack required more than I could muster in a kneeling position.  With left hand still ahold of the chain, I shifted to my feet for leverage. My right foot landed firmly on the “up” control and what happened next, happened so fast that I don’t recall whether I lifted my foot or that my left hand being sucked into and jamming the gypsy stopped the motor. A moment of shock and I quickly used my left foot to depress the “down” control and the monstrous teeth released my hand. I kneeled there staring at my gloved hand.  It hurt. Reluctantly, I carefully removed the heavily padded leather glove and examined the damage. One finger was missing a nickel-sized piece of flesh at the most distal knuckle.  About one-third of the adjacent tip of the little finger was ripped back and deep. The bone on the palm at the base of the little finger was gashed to the white where a link had pressed through a double layer of glove leather to cut through the skin nearly to the bone. That was a bad one. Irritated, disgusted with my carelessness and worried about first aid, I capped the controls, inserted the “chain stop” and headed aft to inform Austin that I needed to work on my hand. Cleaning, disinfecting and finally applying Activ-Flex, wound sealing bandages with Austin’s help, I then poured a generous glass of scotch, at least three fingers worth.

Takeaways – respect your windlass. It eats chain for a main course and will gladly eat flesh appetizers. Its jaws are at least as powerful as a grizzly bear with teeth to match. Always, always cap the foot controls before working forward of or around the windlass. Wear gloves, they can save you when you do stupid things.  There are probably more lessons to reflect upon but I’m getting hungry. Think I’ll slice up some fruit.  Wish the boat would quit rocking…