Johnstone Strait / Queen Charlotte Strait

Another day in the big Northwest!

5/6/11  - 

I talked about big tidal currents in my last blog.  Here’s a great quote about narrow passages and tidal currents from Jonathan Raban who wrote the “Passage to Juneau”, a mostly philosophical book about taking his boat up from Seattle to Juneau by himself:

“With far too much sea trying to escape through far too small an aperture, liquid panic broke out in the pass. The obstructed tide welled up vertically in mushroom-topped boils a dozen yards across or span impotently around in great saucer-shaped eddies.  The surface of the water was pitted with small, traveling whirlpools.  Everything was on the move on its own eccentric curvilinear track.  Keeping even a small patch of water in focus for more than a few seconds was like trying to hold in the mind’s eye the sum of movements made by couples doing the quickstep in a crowded, old fashion ballroom, as they dodged, twisted, swerved, twirled, and went spinning off at tangents to each other.”

That nicely written description only proves what you all probably know: that he is a well-known author, and I’m not! :>)

I ended up staying 2 nights in Blind Channel Resort.  Most of it was closed down, but they did have showers, which was really nice.  Part of my time was to write my last blog, the other was to do a little hiking – there were suppose to be trails.  Maybe so, but they were totally hidden from me.  Everything was overgrown and I ended up clambering clumsily through old piles of metal and cut-up vegetation, trying to weave myself in between branches and fallen logs, trying to find the trail before I gave up and walked back.  I laughed to myself thinking that long-gone were the days when I could do this kind of fearless exploration through thick and gloomy forests (and probably end up getting lost).  Not that when I was growing up there were any of those things around.  Even the thickest “rainforest” in Santa Cruz seem mild compared to here (of course the most dangerous aspect of Santa Cruz vegetation is poison oak).

On my way back to the dock, I stopped and talked with two young men working on clearing a 10 foot diameter rotten stump in front of one of the resort buildings. I mentioned the fact that the trails, from what I could find, were totally overgrown and that it must be a struggle to keep the forest from closing in and keeping the paths open.  The guys looked at each other and laughed and the son of the resort owner said, “Yeah, man, this is a rainforest.  If we were to all leave now and not come back for five years, this whole place would be covered, with trees starting to grow.  After a few more years, the structures would start collapsing because of the growth, as well as rot.  It takes us full time to maintain this place.”

We left about 12 noon to a 20K SE and took a left to negotiate Greene Pt Rapids, which was at slack tide (theoretically), worked against a 3 knot current till I got next to the mainland, and I was going to go left to continue the curve of Greene Rapids and join up Chancellor Channel, but the current was too fast and we were not making progress…so I elected to anchor in a no-name cove and wait until the current turned, which was in a couple of hours.  It was a nice, scenic little cove protected against SE to NE winds.  I don’t know why no one has named it.

Forward Cove

In two hours, I upped-anchor and we headed out to Chancellor Channel looking for a right hand turn to Wellbore Channel (yeah, it’s easy to get there, just take a right on Pine Street, go two blocks, and take a left on 1^ST Ave….ya can’t miss it!).   There the terrifying Whirlpool Rapids were waiting for me.  But by now, I had no fear…main reason was because the tides were changing very little, so the most current would be 3 or 4 knots…and that’s how it turned out…instead of going 7 knots, we were now going 10…wheee! Some mild boils, but nothing that I couldn’t handle.  Once we passed that, we were right next to Forward Cove and stopped there for the night.

Looking back on Johnstone Strait

Forward Cove was a typical Desolation/Broughton cove: narrow entryway, and long cove afterward – and very deep.  I opted to hang out on the NW side of the bay.  The SE was blowing from the head, so I was a little concerned about being up against the leeward side of the bay, but there were no problems – I had 200’ of chain out, which gave me lots of scope.  Another large US yacht (most have been about 80’) anchored nearby.  They were making it up to Alaska in a hurry.

Pushing/pulling a lot of logs!

The next day, we left about 8 am to catch most of the ebb and headed NW for a couple of miles on the Wellbore Channel, took a left and headed SW on Sunderland Channel, going around Hardwick Island, then finally taking a right and heading NW on the famous Johnstone Strait, a veritable highway of the inland passage for commercial boats.  Just in the short time that I was on Johnstone, I must have seen at least two small barges with tugs, a couple of large commercial fishing boats, and I also saw what looked like a football field length and width of giant logs tied together (booms) being pushed by one 40’ tug, and being towed by another.  The two tugs and the football field of logs were probably only doing 3 knots through the water and going against the current – in other words, they were not going anywhere.  They were staying in close to the north side of the strait in hopes to find counter currents, until the tide would turn.  Good luck to them, I thought!

Meltipi Beach

Burial Cove

We went about 13 miles, then took a right up Havannah Channel, pealed left to go up to Port Harvey Resort on East Cracroft Island.  This is a long cove (yes, with another narrow entrance) where at the end was a barge with the marina office build on it, along with a couple of fingers of docks.  George and Gail, the owners, were still in the midst of building this resort - the land and barge they acquired a couple of years ago.  The docks were in great shape, and the marina house was being remodeled.  There were no WiFi on the docks, but I could go up to their house on land and check out my e-mails from there.  They even had a little store with last years “groceries” with no fresh stuff.  By now, I was totally running out of food, so I purchased a frozen chicken breast for my dinner that they’ve been storing from last year.  There were other barges in the same bay, but they were in poor shape, and there seemed to be a lot of garbage along the shore next to the barges.  Not the most scenic of places.  George said that the garbage was going to be cleaned out before the season actually gets started, so it sounds like he’s got some political push.

Burial Cove and Meltipi

After a few days of rainy, SE days, the following day (4/29), the westerly broke in with a bang and, with sunny skies, we motored out of Port Harvey, took a very sharp left to go up Havannah Channel and, after 4 miles, ended up in a place called Burial Cove on West Cracroft, which had protection against the hard westerly.  Right across the channel looking east about a mile and a half was an abandoned Indian village called Matilpi on one of the many convoluted peninsulas of the mainland, where I took the dinghy to check it out.  It was very quiet, had a very small island in front of it to protect against a west wind if you were willing to stern tie, and it had at first what I thought was a white sand beach but it turned out to be strewn with white broken-up clam shells.  Apart from the shells collected by the Indian village, there was nothing else that I could see, as the village was abandoned in the last century when its residents joined another tribe – at least that’s what I read.  I landed the dinghy and walked around, actually trying to get inland a bit to see if I could see some ruins.  All I saw was undergrowth and lots of trees.  After doing a bit more exploring, I motored back to BB in Burial Cove.

A sense of humor at Lagoon Cove

The next day (4/30) we zipped around the corner to a very narrow and tricky passage called Chatham Channel.  You had to line yourself up with range markers to make sure you weren’t deviating from your course and run into trouble.  Going slow and running it as close to slack tide made it easy.  Once past that, we then took a left between Minstrel Island and East Cracroft Island on a narrow and short passage called “The Blow Hole”, where we were squirted out to land in Lagoon Cove Marina. 

Lagoon Cove

The people at Lagoon Cove Marina were really friendly.  There were also two boats, both couples helping out the owners of the resort to get ready for the season, clearing out trees, branches and vegetation along some of the paths (looked like they needed to do a lot). For the last few years, they’ve been helping them at the beginning and end of a number of seasons while cruising up to Alaska and back.  Summertime is big business for the folks at Lagoon Cove Marina (Bill and Jean), as tons of yachts stop by and tie up (sometimes rafting up as much as 3 boats), enjoying prawn and crab cook-offs, Happy Hour or Potluck dinners, etc.  As their brochure says: “On fine evenings, we gather around the bonfire pit in the backyard, behind the house, to roast marshmallows, sing and/or tell stories: if you play an instrument and have it with you, bring it along”.  They obviously worked long and hard on their property because it was very nice, if a bit rustic.  They even had a “totem pole” and “exercise stations”.

A real totem pole!  Not!

I didn’t realize it at the time, but one of the names of the Broughton Island is “Village of Islands”, where there are a number of marina/resorts spotted all around.  It was a bit like RV parks, where yachts can come up, tie up to a dock, get electricity, WiFi, showers, sometimes entertainment and socializing and a good view for various ranges of money (high during the summer).  I have already visited Blind Channel Resort and Port Harvey Marine.  There is also Minstrel Island Resort, Kwatsi Bay, Pierre’s at Echo Bay, and a bunch others.  Personally, I prefer quiet anchorages, but it’s nice to get a break for showers and check e-mails.

Haul out in Lagoon Marina

Comment:  Internet - just reading e-mails has changed cruising like nothing ever has done before.  I remember the unbelievable hassles we had back in the early 70’s cruising Europe, Caribbean, Central America and Mexico, writing letters instructing on where to send mail – usually in care of some Port Captain.  One never knew what, if anything, was going to be waiting on arrival.  Now, you get to a port or resort and either the place has some WiFi system or you can just walk over to a café and plug in to get all of your correspondences, even sharing photos – even pay bills!  It leaves me with a sweet/sour feeling – kind of like cell phones…how can we live without internet?

Lagoon Marina

I really wanted to do some walking, so I put on my hiking boots, and went along a somewhat well marked trail to see where it would lead.  Most of the trails were clear, but some were not.  Nonetheless, the hike made me sore the next day.  I’m definitely not getting enough exercise.

BB in Pott's Lagoon

Tied up next to me was a nice 65’ old wood underwater minesweeper that was converted to a forestry boat taking forest surveyors out to various parts of the BC coast to survey trees for the lumber industry.  These guys on both the islands and mainland would have to hoof up some of the unbelievably steep terrain in the impenetrable (dense!) forests with their handheld GPS marking out with ribbon the territories that were open for clear cutting.  Needless to say, they were all in really good shape.  The skipper of the boat was a crusty guy in his 50’s who has worked as a lumberman, commercial fisherman, yes, he even played hockey in school…all stuff that is listed in the most dangerous jobs category.  He was big, barrel-chested guy with short hair and short thick beard and when he smiled, he had a tooth missing. He smoked like a chimney.  There was also a middle-aged Indian lady who was the cook – she admitted to me that she was used to large kitchens, not the small (large to me) galley that she worked with, fixing these giant feasts (I’m sure the surveyors had healthy appetites).  Both she and the skipper were avid hockey fans, and, as it happened, they had a satellite antennae for TV, so we watched the Vancouver Canuks get beaten by the Nashville Predators on their 2^nd finals game at the end of the second overtime period…a very long game.  When the forestry guys came back from a quick fishing trip in their skiff (2 lingcod and 3 snappers), they immediately watched the game and commenting with lots of hockey insights.  It seems all Canadians are into hockey.  It must be the national sport.

Tight community in Pott's Lagoon

With a southeasterly and rain, BB left the marina the next day and headed the 7 miles west to Potts Lagoon.  I read about this place in Jonathan Rabin’s book – a narrow entry cove, with a lagoon at the head of it where, at high tide, you could take your dinghy in to check out, which I did, in between downpours. On the west side of the cove were five different colored houses on floats with their own docks and boat… people who wanted to get away from it all and live in their, I’m sure, tight-knit community.

Pott's Lagoon

That night, I ate my last fresh vegetable (an onion) on board with a tuna-fish casserole and decided that the next day would be spent going the 22 miles to Port McNeill to stock up on groceries, get some fuel and change the oil.  I had another fuel tank that was filled, but I couldn’t handle eating the canned food that I had on board.  I already had a can stew for yesterday’s dinner, and, for some reason, it didn’t taste as good as I remembered when I was in my 20’s.

No, it's a bald eagle on the mast!

Is that a plastic owl on the mast?

Port McNeill turned out to be a disappointment, but I did take advantage of 1) grocery store which was nearby, 2) shower (which didn’t work), and 3) laundry.  As well, I fueled up and changed the oil, which only took me 2 hours this time (I’m hoping I can get it done less than an hour).  While I was there, I was starting to meet a lot more people making their way up to Alaska.

Alert Bay

The next day I went to Alert Bay, staying at a somewhat rundown, very small marina that was more oriented towards fishing boats, wedging myself in between two large boats.  This island has a large Indian population and has a center/museum; the theme is reaffirming their tribal identity.  It’s all about the Potlatch, which is a party celebrating their heritage, their religion, if you will, with a lot of Indian dancing, people wearing bizarre looking masks – very pagan and not very Christian. It was illegal to have these   during the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, to the point that the Indians were losing their identity.  In the 60’s, there was a giant resurgence against that push, with the elder Indians being taped and recorded using their language, dances, and ceremonies, eventually developing a definite written dictionary of their language so that it would remain viable in future generations.  That’s why the center was built (erected in the 70’s). 

Evidence of evil doing

Anyway, I walked the mile to get to it, paid my $8, and walked the museum, but first watching a fairly lengthy video of what the center was about.  That’s why I completely missed the signs saying no photos…ha ha!  I saw a nice display of masks, reminding me of Debra Bird’s masks that she used to make for theater props in LA, which, with the help of the actors’ movements, did such a fantastic job of completely defining the character that it was suppose to reflect.  These masks looked like they would do the same thing, so I took a flash photo of it.  Luckily there wasn’t anyone around to witness my dirty deed and I didn’t take any more photos, especially when I finally did see signs saying no photos.  Ooops!

North Vancouver Isl - less mountains

I was getting tired of messing with the currents and was getting antsy to go north; so I decided it was time for me to catch one of those southeasterlies while they’re still around and venture out to the open ocean and head north to Alaska.  So we left early the next day from Alert Bay and caught a nice 2-3 knot current to take us to Port Hardy.  It is here that I was expecting about 3 packages, and so far I got one, waiting for the other two…hopefully they’ll be here tomorrow and I can take off.

Tourists welcomed at Port Hardy

I just met a nice Australian, his wife and dog on a 45+ foot cutter, who purchased a nice sailboat in Cabo just last year, and has sailed it up the coast on the way to Alaska.  Once they are there and have looked around, it sounded like they were going to head back south “‘cause it’s too cold here, mate!” Sounded like my friend Gary.  Australia is their final destination.  There is a surfboard attached to their stanchions.

Port Hardy

I also just met the guys on a really nice 65’ wooden motorboat heading up to Alaska.  They are leaving probably Monday for what sounded like a non-stop to Ketchikan.  What made meeting with them interesting is that they’re all old LAYC members…Tom Trujillo (sp?) has been commodore and knew the parents and Bill.  I came on board and had a drink and we reviewed our routes, and told where we were planning on doing.  Chris keeps his boat in Seattle (he also belongs to the Seattle YC), and this is his second trip to Alaska.

So now we’re in Queen Charlotte Strait, where the wind can really start to whip up.  It’s only going to get worse when we turn the corner and dive into Queen Charlotte Sound.  When I hear the weather reports with southeasterlies involved, I hear - no wind warnings in lower Georgia Straits, wind warnings in upper Georgia Straits, strong wind warning for Johnston Straits, gale warnings for Queen Charlotte Straits, and storm warnings for Queen Charlotte Sound. 

I’ve got a nice list of cozy coves dotted up the coast where somewhere I’ll be waiting for an appropriate weather window to head out.  Stay tuned.

Desolation Sound

4/26/11

Stern tied to the cliffs at Tenedos Bay

We ended up staying the whole week at Campbell River.  It rained and was windy until Friday, so on Friday, having a bad case of cabin fever, I rented a car to drive up to Port Hardy to take a gander.  It was a surprisingly long drive, diving into the huge mountains.  Anyway, it made me decide that I much prefer exploration by boat rather than by car.  With the car, you just miss too many darn things. 

Tenedos Bay

I would have left Campbell River Saturday, but much to my amazement, the marine office was closed, so I couldn’t pay my bill.  I decided that I could get most of my projects done over the weekend as it was nice and sunny after the long rain.  I fixed the central locker door, pulled the transom hinged railcap that sits on top of the transom door, and reinforced it so that the door would be supported more from being pushed in with a large following seas.  I had to buy some teak sealer, varnish, sandpaper, etc. from the local chandlery/haulout facility in town, taking advantage of a “super-sale/boatshow” that they were having on Saturday – lots of reps there to show their product line and explain it.  It certainly reminded me of years past working in the marine industry.  And doing all of the sanding, filling and varnishing really reminded me of those countless hours laboring on the Siwash when I was the “guardian” of it in San Francisco Bay oh so many years ago.

With projects semi-done (more coats of varnish on the stern cap rail will be needed), we took off noon on Monday and had a wonderfully clear and generally windy sail across the Strait of Georgia to Tenedos Bay.  Check out this u-tube url: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FPS10A6xEPI

1-eye 1-horn flying purple people eater - sure is a sight to see!

Tenedos Bay, on the BC mainland, is now getting into the land of deep coves, high, snow-covered mountains that are close by, and lots of trees.  Someone once complained to me that Desolation Sound is too “dense” with lots and lots of trees - that would certainly describe it.  One of the problems with Desolation Sound is that for hiking, you need to have a good trail.  It’s pretty difficult to work your way through the unbelievably close packed trees without a trail. That might explain why Vancouver (the explorer) was constantly complaining about this area - he couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

Geese!  Wild life!

Tenedos Bay is a large,beautiful, very cliffy, and very deep – all the way to the shore.  This was the first time I got to anchor with my stern tied to shore by myself - my rope spool hanging off of my transom worked great!  I first figured out where I wanted to tie up, went away from the shore a little bit to launch the dinghy, then I got back to my spot, dropped the anchor (it was 60 feet where I dropped it at low tide), and I let out about 200’ of chain.  The wind was heading directly to the shore, so I didn’t even need to back the boat down; just let the forward anchor set and row the end of the stern line to the rocky shore.  While on shore, I had to be careful because a) it was steep and a little slippery, b) the rocks had a bunch of oysters sticking to it and I didn’t want to puncture my dinghy.  I have a nice pair of rubber boots to do this, so it all works out pretty well.

Predeaux Haven

Tenedos Bay (chart above) has 4 coves that you can anchor/stern tie up to…for expedience, I took the NW side, which proved to be just fine.  No other boats were there, too early in the season, but I understand that it can get quite crowded.  On the northeast side, there is a short trail that goes to a Lake Unwin, which I took.  The trail is fairly overgrown, but it did open out to the head of the lake, where there was a bunch of logs floating.  I couldn’t imagine swimming there, as advertised in some of the guides, but I believe there is a rough trail that goes along the north side of it, so that one can swim in the “warm water”.  Believe me, there is no warm water here now…I took the temp of the water – 48 degrees.  Desolation Sound is warm in the middle of summer at selected areas where there are not many currents, the waters are not flushed out and the sun actually warms them up. But, it’s certainly not warm now.  Anyway, I didn’t stay long on the lake…I must have been on some paranoid spell, because I kept seeing bears hiding behind all of the dense trees!  Next time I’m bringing my horn and toot it often!

Blue Bossa at Melanie Cove

The next morning, Blue Bossa went to Predeaux Haven (chart above), just around the corner.  This is all part of the “Desolation Sound Marine Park” consisting of a bunch of small islands and three anchorages, Melanie Cove the one that I went to and the next day to Laura Cove. It’s supposed to be the 3 most popular anchorages in Desolation Sound, and I do remember anchoring there years ago and really enjoying it, with the surrounding majestic, snow-capped mountains.  Back then, it was a lot more crowded (because it was summertime), but again, because I’m so early, there is nobody around…and I mean nobody!  It’s a wee bit disconcerting.

Looking south on Melanie Cove

Melanie Cove has an entryway with lots of rocks surrounding a very narrow and winding channel, and I was in the pilothouse watching my surroundings and looking at my computer/chart, when the hydraulic steering stopped working.  Eeek!  I went out to the cockpit, which has cable steering, and worked my way in from there, my computer held by my hand while I was doing it.  Shoot! I thought - another thing that needs to be fixed.  As soon as I put down anchor in Melanie Cove, I started dragging out the stuff in the cockpit lockers to get to the stern inside and try to figure out the problem.  As it turns out, it was simply a bolt that came unscrewed from the hydraulic tiller arm and I was able to put it all back together again.  Whew!

Linda Cove

After a leisurely lunch, I launched the kayak, put on my drysuit, and started exploring.  Actually put in a couple of miles, there’s so much to look at.  I went outside some of the islands, where it was slightly choppy, and the kayak handled very well. Saw lots of wildlife (NOT) - including WILD geese and a WILD orgy of purple starfish. The hard part came when I got back to the boat and worked, grunted, and sweated to get the drysuit off - the hitch is getting it off the shoulders.  I did manage to get it off without destroying anything or pulling any muscles. I can’t wait for the water to warm up so I don’t have to put on the suit.  Hmmm, probably would help if I didn’t wear a jacket inside the suit too…

Picnic table Canadian-style

I stayed in Predeaux Haven for a couple of nights, reading and working on the boat; then we set off to Roscoe Bay.  Roscoe is a beautiful long bay on West Redondo Island, another marine park, which can only be entered during high tide.  There is a rocky bar that stretches across the really narrow entryway, and it’s exposed during low tide.  I tried to take the dinghy across the bar, but no way…plus the current going out was really strong and I couldn’t row against it.  I ended up towing the dinghy while walking in the stream to get the dinghy back into the bay, tromping on the rocks and oysters that were there in my rubber boots, and my sweat pants pulled up to my thighs.  That had to look funny.  I would have been embarrassed if anyone was there, but, like every place else in Desolation Sound, there was nobody around.

1.  

Roscoe Bay

Watch out for the salmon!

Comment:  the Northwest has a definitive season for yachties: May to the end of September, and even May is pretty slow; most people don’t get out until June.  So if you want to cruise up here with absolutely no crowds, the time that I’m doing it is the best, even though the weather is pretty iffy and that all the nice resorts are closed down.

Roscoe Bay

Getting back to Roscoe, I rowed to shore at the head of the bay, where there was a picnic table and a nice clearing, and a trail that wound inland to Black Lake.  This lake was much more scenic and inviting than Urwin Lake over at Tenedos (the trail was well marked and went way beyond the usual clump of logs floating at the head of the lake).  The lake has a stream that runs down into Roscoe Bay, and apparently there are salmon that go up the stream.  Since it was more open and less “dense”, I didn’t feel paranoid about bears (I can see that I’m going to have a real problem in Alaska).

Black Lake up from Roscoe Bay

No, this is not a scene from "Deliverance" - it's Refuge Cove

The next day I upped anchor but wasn’t sure where I was going to.  My first stop was just around the other side of West Redondo Island to Refuge Cove, possibly to dock and pick up e-mail.  It was a very quaint co-op type of “village”, if you want to call it that, with some of the buildings definitely looking like old (read “rundown”) Northwestern-style…shacks, for any better word.  A nice old couple told me that everything was shut down (being it was Good Friday and all), so after taking a quick look around, we headed across Lewis Channel to Squirrel Cove on Cortes Island, only a couple of miles away.  There is a very small community, with a marina.  I docked the BB and walked over to the local store and purchased some drinks, and some plumbing fittings for my caput water heater.  There I was able to get on the internet and even made some calls on my cell phone because there was coverage as well.

Teakerne Arm Falls

Instead of staying there, I opted to going north in the intent to anchor at Teakerne Arm, which is a fiord famous for a nice waterfall.  Unfortunately, the wind was blowing hard from the west, making it not a good place to anchor, plus it was so deep right up to the shoreline, that I would have to put more than 200’ of chain out, and tie the stern up a few feet away from the cliff.  So I took some pics of the waterfall and left, intending to go directly to Octopus Islands.  But while I was heading north and looking at the guide books and charts, I figured out that I was going to have to go through “Hole-in-the-Wall” rapids to get to my destination.

Teakerne Arm - falls at the very end

Here’s the thing about this area of inner waterways of BC.  The current between tides in some passages that are narrow and have to squeeze a lot of water in a very short time are horrendously dangerous.  The current increases and produces hazardous tidal rapids, creating lots of whirlpools and bubbles, thereby decreasing the effectiveness of prop and rudder, and making your boat pretty much helpless to prevent crashing into rocks and overhanging cliffs. It’s not like you’re in a kayak where your paddle can hit deep and be nimble to avoid some of the rocks…and even if it hits a rock, it would bounce off, no harm done. With a boat, it would not be a pretty picture.  The best time to go through these areas is during slack water (the time when the currents are changing from flooding to ebbing or vice-versa). That’s when there’s no current.

And what made Hole-in-the-Wall particularly tough was that I had no current chart for that spot to time it during slack water so I didn’t know when slack water was.  I had a tide book for only selected areas in and around Desolation Sound made in the US.  I found (too late) that I needed a Canadian tide and current tables which had all of the slack water times for most of the problem passes.

Ouch!  Watch out for the rock! This one you can at least see...

So I changed my plan and instead of continuing north up Lewis Channel, I went around the north point of Cortes Island and headed south to Von Donop Inlet, also on Cortes Island to spend the night.  Like so many other places on Cortes Island, it had a narrow entry way and then a huge bay inside.  Because it was low tide and it gets shallow at the entrance, I went dead slow.  I was glad I did, because BB grazed off a rock with her lead keel causing a little shock in the boat.  Ooops!  Shortly after that little shock, it got deeper and I made it all the way to the very end of the bay and spent a very restful night with my anchor securely embedded in sticky mud (sticky mud is better than sand, as it often is mixed with clay – great holding, but a bear to wash off from the chain and anchor. Luckily I have a saltwater wash-down pump, which I can attach a hose and nozzle on the bow next to the windlass and wash down the chain and anchor while it’s being pulled up by the windlass – ahhh! such nice luxuries!)

Hamfrey Channel

My plan was to go through another narrows called Beazley Passage, which I did have on my current book, Since I had to be there at 10 in the morning in time for the slack water, I decided to leave the next day (Von Donop didn’t have enough things to keep me interested, and frankly, I was getting tired of completely enclosed anchorages – am I getting claustrophobic in my old age??) and headed further south to round the south point of Read Island and started to head north.  After another 5 miles, I anchored in a spot only a couple of miles from Beazley Passage called Hjorth Bay (how do you pronounce that - probably like Hjelte – a good Swedish name with the H's silent).  It protected BB against the current southerly wind.  Except for the point, it was all open…if a westerly or northwesterly came up, I would have to up-anchor and get out.  Luckily there was another cove up a little further north that protects against westerlies and northwesterlies, so I was covered. 

Boston Whaler in Santa Cruz Island anchorage

Comment: This is the kind of cruising that I’m used to – open roadsteads with no protection except one direction.  I can’t tell you how many times I and my son, in the middle of the night on Santa Cruz Island (during one of our surf-trips in one of my Boston Whalers), would wake up to heavy winds and sloppy seas on the nose in some little open cove in the middle of the night, have to up-anchor and look for protection elsewhere and hope we didn’t run into anything, as all you could see was a somewhat indistinct outline of the coast and the bright phosphorescent wake behind us zooming along at high speeds.

After anchoring, I did more projects on the boat (disconnecting the freshwater hoses to the broken water heater and joining them together…the water heater had been leaking badly, using up my precious fresh water; also putting another coat of varnish on the rail cap on the stern).

By now, I had just finished a book that I inherited from my Mom, the book being a gift from one of my parents friends while joining them up on their boat Compadre.  It was a collection of memoirs of adventures on a small 25’ wooden powerboat in the early 1930’s with a woman and…her five children!  Every summer, they would leave their Vancouver Island cottage (somewhere near Victoria, I think) and cruise as far north as Caution Point, just north of the top tip of Vancouver Island, in Queen Charlotte Strait.  The book is called “The Curve of Time” written by Muriel Wylie Blanchet in 1960.  In the book, she has stories of some of the characters that they visit in the Vancouver Island waterways, in a lot of the coves that I’ve been to…for example, Predeaux Haven had two coves – Laura Cove and Melanie Cove, both of them I have anchored in described earlier.  There were two old hermits that lived in each of those coves back then, and there were a lot of good stories about them and the wild life that they had to endure.  They also had a ton of adventures in areas that were isolated and that you had to be self-reliant to the max.  No radios, no EPIRBs, no GPS, just some charts, a pilot book and a compass.  There was even a chapter where her engine quit and she took it apart to fix the timing belt with only a minimum of tools in some bay far away from civilization.  She had an unusual take on the native culture, visiting many Indian burial grounds and old native villages.  Their adventures would deal a lot with animals in the wild and hard-core forces of nature, such as storms, and dealing with rapids.  She really reminded me of my grandad, who went all over southern California and Baja in Siwash with no engine, huge and unmanageable sails - this back in the 20’s.  There is something about that generation that really amazes me – people seemed so much hardier and took more chances.

Anyway, it’s a book that I would highly recommend, if you can find it – I’ve seen recent reprints of it in some book stores.

So on Monday, I left Hjorth Bay at about 10 and went through the notorious Beazely Passage – a cakewalk.  The slack water was timed just right.  No worries, except all of the other narrow passages that I still need to take.

Octopus Islands

Next stop was Octopus Islands.  There were two entrances of this bay surrounded by islands; one was difficult, the other was easy, but a little bit out of the way…I selected the easy one.  Normally if there was another person on board, he/she would be stationed at the bow, keeping a close eye for any wayward rocks, while the helmsmen would steer and watch the chart.  But, as a single-handed skipper, I have found it better to steer in the pilot house, as I’m much closer to the bow and have a better view all around – but I can still miss things (such as the rock dance at Roscoe Bay); so I try to avoid a too difficult entrance if possible and go really slow if I’m not sure.

The Octopus Islands were very beautiful and there were a ton of places to explore, but by the time I got there, it was raining very hard, so I elected to stay inside and start studying the charts more vigorously than I have been and plan. 

The Maze

Check this picture out and tell me if Desolation and Broughton Sounds are maze-like – I can’t believe how hard it must have been for Vancouver to actually map out this place!  It’s like seeing a delta, but, instead of having almost no elevation to the islands, the NW islands are at least 100s of feet high, all with thick forest on them.  If I didn’t have a GPS plus a chart plotter on it, I would have a much more difficult time trying to figure out where I was (in “The Curve of Time”, they were always getting lost and trying to figure out by chart where they are – it especially got dicey when it was foggy).  Needless to say, the charts that I would have would be heavily marked up.

I decided that I would go the 18 miles to Blind Channel Marina, where there is a store that has those tide charts that I needed.  So I left at 11 in heavy rain, ran through Upper and Lower Rapids (no problems with that) and finally joined up with Discovery Channel, which eventually became Johnston Strait, a definitive dividing point between it and Desolation Sound.  This is where the Broughtons start.

Blind Channel Resort - not a lot of boats around!

So here I am at Blind Channel Resort, which has a marina, a small store (yep, they did have the Canadian current book, so now I feel much better – I can shoot the rapids with no worries), showers, laundry and electricity.  I’m going to stay here two nights, do some work on BB, walk on some of the trails (the owner says bring a horn – heh! heh!) and then be on my way.  My goal is to get to Port Hardy in 2-3 weeks to pick up packages and fuel up for the next stage. 

Desolation Sound Course - hope you can follow it!

What my route to Port Hardy will look like remains to be seen.  So many choices!

Sunshine Coast Part 2

4/13/11

Motoring along at 7 knots

Thunder and Tarnation!  Huh?  Well, it might not be thundering, but it sure is raining and windy, days at a time, I think.  I’m writing at Campbell River, where they have nice showers, laundry, and wireless Internet.  Right behind Discovery Marina, where I’m staying, is a big mall with two extra-large supermarkets (think Wal-Mart type of stores), as well as a Blockbuster Video store and Canadian Tire, which is a like an Orchard Supply on steroids…lots to keep me entertained and supplied while it’s raining, cold, and windy here.  There’s even a dive shop, where I bought a weight belt.

I’m awaiting mail from brother Rick, who forwarded a whole collection of it to Campbell River.  It has apparently arrived today, and I have to pick it up tomorrow.  It cost well over $100 for Rick to send it, and I still owe UPS another $30 on top of that before I can get it.  Yikes!  Looks like I won’t be doing anymore Fed X deliveries until I reach Alaska, which will then be parcel post.  Sending stuff internationally is expensive.

Anyway, going back to the 3^rd of April and back in Pender Harbor.

After a really nice evening at the Garden Bay Pub, watching the blues band play their hearts out, and watching the sizable crowd cheer them on, I motored my dinghy back to BB and called it a night. That night, it blew hard out of the southeast.  My boat was docked perpendicular to the wind, so it bounced a bit, but other than that, it was a restful, yet very cold night.  The next morning I took a shower, did some laundry, cleaned the boat up a bit, and took off to head to Hardy Island anchorage. There was no wind and it was only a short 5-mile trip.

Hardy Island anchorage is really a spot surrounded by 4 different islands.  It’s a relatively big and deep bay – with only one other boat anchored there.  I was surprised at how deep the bay was until I got really close to shore. It took me awhile to figure out where to anchor.  I had one false start when my anchor was dragging, with not a lot of room to spare.  I winched it back up (thank God for the windlass) and picked another spot, which had better ground for the anchor to work with.

A comment:

Hardy Island Rock Excavation

The further north I go, the deeper the bays and anchorages are (and the more steep and magnificent the fiords).  Once I get to Desolation Sound, deep coves and bays will be the norm.  My next single-handed challenge is stern-tie to the shore.  That is where I anchor the boat relatively close to shore (at least in 50' of water), make sure the hook is set in the rapidly reclining ground, then row to shore (make sure the dinghy is in the water even before I begin this exercise) with the bitter end of my 600’ spool of yellow polypropylene/Dacron line rigged up on my stern pulpit, run around a tree or big boulder and either tie it off or run it back to the boat’s stern.  I’ve already set the spool up already to use and just to modify it a bit to spool out nice and easily.

Hardy Island was interesting, but not enough to get out my kayak and explore.  Plus it was just too darn cold.  So I got myself snug and warm in my boat and read.  When I first got there, I heard this big whistle, and saw that there was a big earth-mover on top of a cliff digging for big boulders used for building breakwaters.  The area immediately around it was an eyesore.

The next morning, we left early and headed up the 30 miles to Lund.  After a couple of hours, it was blowing out of the southeast (downwind) strong enough, that I turned off the engine and sailed.  The next few hours, I got to see how Blue Bossa handles in heavy winds.  The southeast wind picked up more and more so by the time we were rounding Point Grief (where does the explorer Vancouver pick up these depressing names?), the wind was clocking 25-35 knots, the boat hitting speeds of 8 and 9 knots.  The autopilot wasn’t up to that kind of puffy conditions, so I steered in the cockpit, where, with cable steering, I had much more control (steering in the pilot house is hydraulic).  It was quite exciting.  On a broad reach (wind a quarter to the stern), I had the big 150 jib up along with a full mainsail.  The wind would get these huge puffs and the boat would want to round up, but I was able to keep it under control.  The jib definitely needed to be rolled up a bit, along with the mainsail.

Eventually, the course dictated that I head dead-down wind, so I rolled up the jib.  Even with the mainsail out, I was still doing 6-1/2 to 7 knots.  I wanted to go wing-and-wing (jib on one side, the mainsail on the other), but with the puffy conditions and heavy wind and me being single-handed and an old fart to boot, I opted to be on the conservative side.  I didn’t want to break anything (me), or lose anything (me) overboard. 

Comment:

That 150 roller-furler jib in heavy winds is a real handful.  I have another older jib that I store up in the bow that is a 120 (smaller), which I will definitely put to use when I head south from Alaska out to the Charlotte Islands and on the west coast of Vancouver Island.  The 150 is a better sail in light conditions, prevalent to summertime inside-passage conditions.

Lund - the next day was sunny!

Eventually we got to Lund, where we were able to snag a spot on the commercial boat dock (Lund only has two docks).  I expected to pay a large sum of money there, but, to my surprise, the bill only came out to $35 (compared to $65 in Pilothouse Marina).  Lund is a very small landing that’s famous for being at the end of Highway 101.  After that, it’s 4-wheel drive, boat, or airplane (well, maybe horse, mule, walking…) to get to anyplace north of the coast.  I’ve been there, years ago, when my family and I chartered a small boat from Comax to visit Desolation Sound.  Lund is hardly called a harbor as it barely dents into the shoreline.  To keep away chop, they’ve got 3 floating breakwaters.  Even the southeasterly, that was still blowing hard (side shore), had little influence on how the boats behaved inside. 

One of many anchorages in Gorge Harbour

The next day, after a nice breakfast at the local bakery, we headed northwest for the 15 miles to Gorge Harbour, which placed us in Desolation Sound.  It is on Cortes Island.  The name derives from its narrow steep-sided (cliff) entrance called the Gorge.  Inside, there’s a choice of about 3 or 4 different anchorages, and a very small resort/marina.  The anchorages are limited by the fact that the good ones are covered with fish farms.  I ended up on the northwest side of the bay, which is very well protected.

The next day, after a quick scout in the inflatable at the entrance, I was back on BB when a 30’ sailboat motored by with the mainsail still up.  Two women and a man were on-board, one of the women asking me if I could help them, because they couldn’t get their mainsail down. 

The crew on the boat, with mainsail still up, grabbed a mooring that was obviously placed there for the boat.  The man and one of the women needed to get off the boat in time to catch the ferry to take them to Campbell River, taking the boat’s dinghy and leaving the last woman to figure out how to get the mainsail down.  I motored over in my dinghy to assist.

Cliff side in entrance - suppose to be gliffs

I suspected and was proven to be correct that the halyard, an old steel cable arrangement, had jumped the sheave, which is at the top of the mast, and had jammed between the sheave and sheave box.  The only way to lower the mainsail was to climb the mast and unhook the shackle holding the sail to the halyard.  The woman’s name was Debra, a middle-age woman with some experience with boats, but not enough to keep her out of trouble, having not put a lot of money into the boat (shoestring budget).  Her crew, that abandoned her, had no experience.  To make matters worse, all of the running rigging on the boat was really old, and all of the winches were single speed that were at least 40+ years old, the age of the boat.

I was scratching my head into how to get to the top of the mast with just her and myself to do it.  No lightweight young studs around to get pulled up, or pull themselves up.  Luckily, a white-haired and bearded gentleman named Herbert, coming back from work on his aluminum skiff, did have a lot of sailboat experience, knew Debra, and was willing to help out. He had an Alberg 35 moored nearby, so he grabbed his bosun’s chair (a canvas and board affair that allows one to be hoisted up a mast by a halyard).  Both he and I were well over 200 lbs, not something to be taken lightly when being hoisted up a mast with old halyards.  So we elected to hoist up Debra, who was hesitantly willing (after all, it was her boat).  Luckily, the boat had both a jib halyard and a spinnaker halyard, so while I was cranking from the cockpit the spinnaker halyard that I lead aft, Herbert cranked from the jib winch the jib halyard.  With two halyards and two big guys cranking, we had Debra up the mast and she quickly unhooked the shackle and the mainsail slid down.  It was lucky that there wasn’t much wind in the cove, otherwise it would have been dicey with a flogging mainsail.

Entrance looking outward from Gorge Harbour

That done, I was invited to Herbert’s house to have a drink with he and his wife Windy and Debra (after she was done putting away her boat).  Herbert is a house designer much like my brother Rick.  But instead of specializing in high desert, energy efficient houses, he designs NW waterfront houses like his home-built house, which has as small a carbon footprint as possible; many of his houses are “off the grid”, ie: solar panels and anything else to keep them independent of outside energy.  His house was up about 50 feet from the water, nestled on the steep shoreline, and had a beautiful view of the bay.  Herbert and Windy were very gracious hosts and Debra and I ended up having dinner there, joined later by a friend of theirs, who circumnavigated the world.  We had a lively discussion of sailing and cruising, of Canadian and US politics (luckily they leaned the same way I did), health care, etc., all the while sipping some great wine and enjoying a delicious dinner.

Chart of Gorge Harbour

The next day, Herbert zipped by (again from work) and said that the folks at Gorge Harbour were having a show at Gorge Hall (located at the little resort/marina close to where I was anchored), saying that a vaudeville show was being presented.  I jumped at the opportunity to watch that as well as get to know what the community was like.

The hall was small but was able to hold all of the groups of people (and lots and lots of kids) to watch the “Lasqueti Circus”, which was a group of about 25 people from the island of Lasqueti, west of Texada Island, north of Nanaimo.  They all had different talents, about 15 of them would play different brass or string instruments to back everyone up, while the rest would pantomime, act out skits, sing, dance, juggle, and joke, all in good clean Canadian fun. None were exceptionally skilled (juggling, dance and acrobatic was amateurish at best), but they all had a lot of fun, and the audience really enjoyed it, especially the kids.

I had a good chance to view the people who live on Cortes Island, who seemed to be very honest folk wanting to live outside the normal communities and live a much more simple life raising their kids. Probably most of the kids were home schooled.  It may have been the type of entertainment that was being offered, but I didn’t get the feeling that there were many retired people, but mostly younger families, much different than Friday Harbor, which are mostly retired people.

In regards to Lesqueti Island, where the performers had all come from and who were touring through much of the big islands in the Desolation Sound area, I had missed visiting it, much to my regret, as I was aiming to go to Smugglers Cove.  As I understand it, the beauty of the island is spectacular.  I was tempted to go back south to visit it, but it would have taken a lot of time and fuel to go there and back, so I’ll have to visit it some other time.

Rebecca Spit

Because a southeasterly was coming, I elected the next day to leave Gorge Harbour and head to Rebecca Spit, on Quadra Island, which lies on the other side facing Campbell River.  Rebecca Spit is somewhat scenic, but is huge and not much to do, plus, when I got there, it was starting to blow.  I had enough time to zip over in my inflatable to check out the two small marinas in Heriot Bay, about a mile away from where I was anchored.  The main marina looked abandoned and totally run down, while the other one was a resort that was closed.  The next two days (Saturday and Sunday) was spent in the boat waiting for the SE gale to wind down.  Top wind speeds were gusting to 40 knots, but the boat, other than tacking back and forth, held anchor nicely.  I did a lot of reading and listening to music.

Rounding Cape Mudge - fresh snow on Vancouver Island

On Monday, the sky cleared momentarily, the wind shut down, and we shuffled around Cape Mudge and ventured up Discovery Passage to Campbell River…and here we are.

Discovery Marina in Campbell River - in between squalls

Campbell River / Discovery Passage

While we’re here, I’m hoping to get a little done on the boat, if the weather ever gets better.  I have to fix a cap rail which hinges over the transom door, as well as fix a cockpit locker door, all of which I should be able to do on my own.  The alternator has so far run very well, and on my second day anchored at Gorge Harbor, I ran my auxiliary generator in conjunction with a 30 amp portable electric charger, to create a good charge on my batteries.  So, electrically, I think I’m in pretty good shape (knock on wood).  After talking with Herbert, and discussing where to put it, I think I’m going to get some solar panels from West Marine and install them on top of my dinghy davits.  Clear exposure to the sun, out of the way, and lots of room makes this a viable way to keep my charge up without having to run the engine.  With summertime around the corner, it will take more electricity to run the refrigerator, so having solar panels will really help.  Another project to do in Ketchikan, probably!

Canadian comment: 

1)    I’m starting to catch on saying “eh?” all of the time…the Canadians here have such a cute accent, it’s easy to fall into that almost singsong way of speaking, versus the much flatter vocal inflections of west-coast Americans.  I won't even compare it to "quaint" southern accents.

Route - Nanaimo to Campbell River

2)    The further north I go, the nicer and less bureaucratic the people get.  Must be from getting away from US influence?  Or is it just getting away from civilization?

Maybe I’ll find out.

Sunshine Coast Part 1

Pender Harbour - the little purple sails are marinas - Pilothouse Marina is north in Garden Bay

Sailing across Strait of Georgia

4/3/11

Pender Harbor Entrance

Here we are, tied up to Pilothouse Marina in Pender Harbor, one of many in this all-weather cove.  As you can see, it’s a big natural harbor with lots of little coves, all jammed with assorted marinas, most of them sort of run-down, or at least a bit funky.  Because there are so many coves in this harbor, to drive or walk from one marina to the next is really far.  For example, there’s a pub that’s not more than a hundred yards where I’m tied up to, but it’s at least a half-mile to walk there.  Going to one place to another by dinghy is the way to go.  I already took the dinghy across the harbor to Madeira Park (about a 5 mile drive by auto, only a 1/4 mile drive by dinghy from here), tied it up, and walked to a large grocery store to get some fresh stuff.  I may take the dinghy to the pub tonight to indulge myself to a dinner there, if it stops raining. 

Pilothouse Marina in Pender Harbor

Pender Harbor is a halfway point along the Sunshine Coast going north to Desolation Sound. It’s a natural stopover for boats heading north or south.  According to the nice lady working for the Pilothouse Marina, this place jams with a ton of boats and huge traffic.  I’m glad I am visiting it now. It’s very scenic; the harbor is nestled against steep mountains, this time of year with snow.

Going back last week (3/27/11), in Nanaimo, I ended up with a very good electrician who diagnosed the charging problem to a bad regulator, which was replaced.  As well, I replaced the frozen shut-off cable.  All-in-all, a worthwhile 3 day stay. I was anxious to leave Nanaimo, as the port marina is really noisy (and expensive), so, on the 30^th of March, we left about noon to head north to Schooner Cove, about 5 miles north of Nanaimo, surrounded by lots of rocks and reefs.

Schooner Cove is a marina tucked up against steep hills – there is no place to anchor.  It is mostly a rundown hotel (that was closed for the winter), but it had the marina office open, inside the hotel.  The guy running it was this really nice old guy who let BB stay overnight for free!  I guess there was too much going on moving their office to another building, so he just said, “enjoy!”, which I did.  Showers were free!  The shower was actually in one of the hotel rooms.  No time limitations!  Utter luxury, although I didn’t have any shorepower.  Oh well, you take the bad with the good.

Next morning, BB and I left Schooner Cove to sail across the Strait of Georgia in beautiful and clear northwesterly winds – a great sail!  We ended up in a really hard-to-find place called Smuggler’s Cove.  What a jewel!  It is a completely enclosed cove right in the middle of a protected marine park.  It tucks in deep, from one anchorage spot to another to another.  I ended up at the very end of all of the anchorages, feeling very much like I had been placed in a large pond, as there was algae floating around the boat and it was incredibly quiet, with just the peaceful sound of running water from a creek. There were lots of ducks and geese, but I didn’t see any otters or raccoons. 

One of many boardwalks on the trail in Smugglers Cove Park

Immediately, I pulled out the kayak to go explore the tons of nooks and crannies. Because of really clear water, I could see all kinds of shapes of reefs and underwater boulders, although I didn’t see any fish.  If I had diving gear (ie: a really thick wetsuit), I may have done a bit of free diving (when the sun was out).

Entrance to Smuggler's Cove

The second day I was there, I took the kayak to shore and walked a beautiful trail in the marine park to the road. It wound around a bunch of big ponds, the trail often times assisted by long boardwalks close to the ponds.  Because it rained earlier that day, I trudged through a few puddles…luckily I was wearing my reef walkers. When I got back to the kayak and tried to get in, I sort of tipped over (only 25% submerged).  Ha Ha!  I was glad there was no one to see my embarrassing lack of coordination.  Looks like I need to practice getting on and off that kayak from land.

Schooner Cove - arrow is where BB was

The weather during this time was changing all of the time.  You can tell when spring is coming, as the northwesterly, when it is here, blows hard and cold but with nice sunlight.  If you’re in a wind-protected spot, it can get really warm – my first day kayaking in Smugglers Cove, I just wore a bathing suit and a t-shirt with my lifejacket.  But, in just 6 or so hours, it can change around to rain, blowing southeasterly and getting cold, which it did while I was there.

A little history of Smuggler's Cove

It rained the first night.  It cleared about noon the next day, with the northwesterly picking up hard towards the end of the day.  That night it blew really hard (I was glad to be tucked in), the boat tacking on the anchor line, the chain roller making all kinds of noise with the chain moving across the roller (I need to devise a harness to lessen the noise).  I got up about 4 or 5 times that night to check for dragging, as there’s not a lot of room to spare (it was good sticky mud, so there were no problems). The next day it was still blowing hard, but I decided to take a peek to see if I could make it to Pender Harbor.  It was too rough (I could have made it easily enough, but it would have been slow and I would have used a lot of fuel), so I opted to go to Secret Cove, which was only about 2 miles north of Smugglers Cove.

They should call it: "Smuggler's Pond"

Secret Cove is another narrow entrance cove, but instead of being totally isolated, there were about 2-3 marinas.  I found a spot towards the south end of the cove where I could anchor safely and took the dinghy out to explore.  By and large, all of the marinas were closed (this on a Saturday).  I talked to one of the guys on his boat who told me that they don’t open until April 15^th, which seems to be the opening of most marinas on this coastline. During last night, the wind turned around to come from the south, and I left to Pender Harbor this morning.

So here I sit, typing on this computer, with the wind getting stronger from the south and starting to rain a bit.  I may leave tomorrow and make my way up to Lund, about a 30 mile trip, especially if the wind holds from the south. I expect to be in the town of Campbell River on Vancouver Island by the end of this coming weekend.  I’ll probably stay there for 3-5 days, mostly to get mail, write a blog, and do some projects that need to be done (oil change, fix a cabinet door, etc.).  So stay tuned!

 PS:  It's now raining hard.  Guess I'll stay on the boat and make dinner.

PSS: I decided to go anyway - so what if I get a little wet and cold.  As it turns out, I had a great fish & chips (halibut), and there was a nice local blues band playing, which made me miss playing music with other people.  Still enjoyed though!