The one thing I wish I could change about this game is the lack of exercise. I knew going in that not being able to hike much or play tennis or even go for long walks was going to be (I hoped) the primary difficulty. I've been dreaming of doing this trip for most of my adult life, so having the opportunity to actually make it happen, I figured I would just have to suck it up and enjoy/endure something sedentary for a change.
So here I sit, tucked into a majestic bay on Banks Island. We're far removed from civilization. There are steep, wooded, virgin slopes, flowing down from the mountain tops to the waterline, with rocky, kelp-slick muddy shores. The sky is blue and the weather is perfect.
And there's not a trail, or even a place to walk for miles. So I sit, read, workout, write a bit, enjoy my surroundings, and think what might be done differently next time.
I can start earlier (than mid-May), or go later than the end of August so there is time to fly home more often - or fly somewhere else, do something else.
Go for shorter trips. Having knocked this off my bucket list, I can move on to other things: a circumnavigation of Vancouver Island will take half the time and leave plenty for other things, more exercise.
Also trips south will be less environmentally challenging - more trails, friendlier beaches, warmer water, feasible swimming. I've been surprised by how few people there are out here doing this trip. We go for days without seeing another recreational vessel. Maybe I shouldn't be. As much as I'm enjoying it, full time cruising in on the BC coast and SE Alaska is not for the athletically inclined.
I'm ok with that. We don't have to like everything about the things that motivate us. We can learn from our experiences and let them guide us toward the things we do in turn. As for this trip at this time, I wouldn't change a thing. Fewer trails mean fewer people and that's part of the appeal of this area, even if I do need a good workout. We're in Prince Rupert tomorrow so I think I'll get one.
June 11, 2016
Day 27 - A Good Start; Rod
The trip so far is everything we might have hoped for.
Expecting a day of rain in every three (according to statistics I read), we've seen more like one in five, and half of those were hardly more than a brief sprinkle. Granted the weather can be rather foul even without much rain, but in four weeks of sailing north from mid-May to mid-Jun, we've seen four or five days that counted as real rain and only a couple of those needed foul weather gear by virtue of coinciding with time under way.
Not much has gone wrong mechanically either. We have a lot of tools and spare parts squirreled away for dealing with inevitable problems, but so far - knock on wood - Quijote has been humming along like the well oiled machine that she is. I feel like the Maytag repairman, jumping at the opportunity to replace a button on the upholstery that comes loose. The galley faucet has started dripping, but spare faucet seals are one item I didn't think to pack along, so that repair will have to wait until we arrive in Prince Rupert in two days.
And we can't complain about our health. We have so far remained illness and accident free. Even the bugs have been mostly friendly.
Granted it is a bit early in the game to crow too loudly about our good fortune, but as trips go, this has been a very good start.
Expecting a day of rain in every three (according to statistics I read), we've seen more like one in five, and half of those were hardly more than a brief sprinkle. Granted the weather can be rather foul even without much rain, but in four weeks of sailing north from mid-May to mid-Jun, we've seen four or five days that counted as real rain and only a couple of those needed foul weather gear by virtue of coinciding with time under way.
Not much has gone wrong mechanically either. We have a lot of tools and spare parts squirreled away for dealing with inevitable problems, but so far - knock on wood - Quijote has been humming along like the well oiled machine that she is. I feel like the Maytag repairman, jumping at the opportunity to replace a button on the upholstery that comes loose. The galley faucet has started dripping, but spare faucet seals are one item I didn't think to pack along, so that repair will have to wait until we arrive in Prince Rupert in two days.
And we can't complain about our health. We have so far remained illness and accident free. Even the bugs have been mostly friendly.
Granted it is a bit early in the game to crow too loudly about our good fortune, but as trips go, this has been a very good start.
Day 26 - Eagle Eye to Eye; Rod
We're in the eagles lair tonight. They let us know it too. Patterson Inlet is long and deep with two beautiful, remote, otherworldly pockets carved out at the end. Knowing we would find easier anchoring in the north bay, we did a drive-by of the south to have a look. On our way in an eagle cruised by - checking us out checking him out. An adult male bald eagle in flight over the boat with cliffs in the backdrop, was nothing short of majestic.
Later, settled into the north bay, we found three bald eagles in the tree tops around us. It wasn't clear if they were telling us off or each other, but they were certainly vocal.
Poor eyesight and worse memory for that kind of thing make my qualities as a birder somewhat dubious, but Kay is quite good at it. She's been constantly spotting and identifying species. She generally spots them with naked eye, verifies her find with binoculars, and points them out. Then with binoculars I can usually find them. I don't think I've spotted anything she hasn't already seen. That's ok. It's great being in company with such an ardent wildlife enthusiast. It's like visiting rome with an historian, or Madrid with a bullfighting fan.
I have to wonder if eagles get the same kind of thrill seeing us entering their domain as we get seeing them. I'm guessing no.
Later, settled into the north bay, we found three bald eagles in the tree tops around us. It wasn't clear if they were telling us off or each other, but they were certainly vocal.
Poor eyesight and worse memory for that kind of thing make my qualities as a birder somewhat dubious, but Kay is quite good at it. She's been constantly spotting and identifying species. She generally spots them with naked eye, verifies her find with binoculars, and points them out. Then with binoculars I can usually find them. I don't think I've spotted anything she hasn't already seen. That's ok. It's great being in company with such an ardent wildlife enthusiast. It's like visiting rome with an historian, or Madrid with a bullfighting fan.
I have to wonder if eagles get the same kind of thrill seeing us entering their domain as we get seeing them. I'm guessing no.
Day 25 - The Music of Quijote; Rod
We have a windy anchorage in Monckton Inlet today. The wind generator is humming, at times wailing. As the boat wanders around in the anchorage in response to various gusts and lulls, the anchor chain is dragged across the bottom of the bay in one direction and then back in the other, growling in protest all the while. The dinghy and the hull play two part harmony, slapping in time to the rhythm of the waves. The US flag, mounted on a wooden pole fixed to the stern and a smaller Canadian flag on a flag halyard that runs to the mast spreader are flapping wildly, each vowing to outdo the other. Each anchorage plays its own symphony, displays its own personality.
This bay has ample swinging room for many boats, but today, it's just us and a fishing trawler, also with a US flag. We're both a long way from home. The couple in the trawler waved as we entered the bay, appeared happy to see company; isolation to share.
Wildlife is scarce tonight, but a seal pokes it's nose out of the water to have a look at us. Kay has gone below for a nap and soon another sound is added to the mix. The seal dives out of sight.
The wind and chop make dinghy exploring less appealing, so with chores done it's time to relax and do some reading to the music of Quijote on Monckton Inlet.
This bay has ample swinging room for many boats, but today, it's just us and a fishing trawler, also with a US flag. We're both a long way from home. The couple in the trawler waved as we entered the bay, appeared happy to see company; isolation to share.
Wildlife is scarce tonight, but a seal pokes it's nose out of the water to have a look at us. Kay has gone below for a nap and soon another sound is added to the mix. The seal dives out of sight.
The wind and chop make dinghy exploring less appealing, so with chores done it's time to relax and do some reading to the music of Quijote on Monckton Inlet.
Day 24 - Making for the Outside Passage; Rod
We have an embarrassment of riches when it comes to passage planning at this point. We find ourselves three days ahead of schedule, with four nights to squander before we meet with Frederic, Marta, Emily and Jake on Sunday, June 12 in Prince Rupert. Kay and I sat down this evening and put our heads in the books and charts to decide where to explore.
Before we leave Curlew Bay, we have a decision to make: Inside Passage up Grenville Channel, or Outside Passage up Principe Channel. Grenville Channel is a marine highway up to Prince Rupert with fewer options for exploring along the way. Principe Channel is wild with abundant opportunities to explore a plethora of small bays and coves between Banks and Pitt Islands.
With plenty of time on our hands, the question comes down to weather, since the outer passage is more exposed to wind and seas along the way. We woke this morning to find the forecast fairly settled with winds expected to be less than 20 knots in Hecate Straight for the next several day days; winds in Principe Channel ought to be lower than that and the anchorages are well protected, so we're thinking we will go the more interesting route and see what happens.
Now on the itinerary are Mockton Inlet (according to Douglass: "This is true Outer Passage Wilderness"), Patterson Inlet ("…particularly beautiful"), Colby Bay (our only visit to Banks Island), and Newcombe Harbor. From Newcomb we are on to Prince Rupert for a couple of nights where these latest posts can be posted.
Before we leave Curlew Bay, we have a decision to make: Inside Passage up Grenville Channel, or Outside Passage up Principe Channel. Grenville Channel is a marine highway up to Prince Rupert with fewer options for exploring along the way. Principe Channel is wild with abundant opportunities to explore a plethora of small bays and coves between Banks and Pitt Islands.
With plenty of time on our hands, the question comes down to weather, since the outer passage is more exposed to wind and seas along the way. We woke this morning to find the forecast fairly settled with winds expected to be less than 20 knots in Hecate Straight for the next several day days; winds in Principe Channel ought to be lower than that and the anchorages are well protected, so we're thinking we will go the more interesting route and see what happens.
Now on the itinerary are Mockton Inlet (according to Douglass: "This is true Outer Passage Wilderness"), Patterson Inlet ("…particularly beautiful"), Colby Bay (our only visit to Banks Island), and Newcombe Harbor. From Newcomb we are on to Prince Rupert for a couple of nights where these latest posts can be posted.
Day 23 - The Straight and Narrow; Rod
Today turned out to be much better than we expected. Strong winds were forecasted out in Queen Charlotte Sound with 2-3 meter swells rolling in off the ocean. I pictured wind and waves funneling up into the Laredo Sound, where we would be after our transit of the Meyers Passage.
We started late to let the water level rise in the narrows and to let the current moderate. The trip down into the Meyers Passage turned out to be the toughest part of the day. A light rain and mist moved in with fog and reduced the visibility to less than a mile. What drove us nuts though, wasn't the weather, but the flotsam. Long eddy lines of junk in the water (logs, stumps, branches, boards, sticks, and plenty of seaweed) blocked our way off and on all day. We posted Kay on the bow to keep a sharp eye out for the less obvious hazards and agreed on hand signals to guide us through it all.
The signals are designed to be clearly visible to the helm. A straight arm out means start a slow turn in this direction to avoid and obstacle ahead. Bending and straightening the arm to make a pointing motion ads urgency for a quicker turn. Both hands out means slow down. Both hands out raised high above the head means full stop. Our signaling is a work in progress. The first iterations were difficult to see at the helm and difficult to interpret, but we're getting better
We hit the narrows right about when we wanted to and the passage proceeded smartly. We found about 18' in the narrows at 3/4 tide, that's a little less than twelve feet under the keel: plenty of room.
Poking our noses out into the sound we were delighted to find mild conditions. It turned out to be a lovely afternoon and evening in spite of the forecast.
There were two wildlife viewing highlights for the day. A pod of a dozen or so porpoises escorted the boat for a while. Then after the narrows, a whale put on a show for us, taking full body leaps out of the water (breaching). It seemed as though it was trying to make the largest splash posssible. It blew fountains of mist into the air and then launched itself up out of the water again and again, like it thought we were National Geographic photographers. It will be sorely disappointed when the next issue comes out.
With the going good, we made a long day of it today and anchored in Smithers Island Cove, rather than Hague Point Lagoon (for those back home who are keeping score). The setting is beautiful, but the anchor holding can be difficult because the bottom is rocky. Thankfully our oversized anchor set easily and we spent another lovely evening with our transom fifty feet off the shoreline. Nice.
We started late to let the water level rise in the narrows and to let the current moderate. The trip down into the Meyers Passage turned out to be the toughest part of the day. A light rain and mist moved in with fog and reduced the visibility to less than a mile. What drove us nuts though, wasn't the weather, but the flotsam. Long eddy lines of junk in the water (logs, stumps, branches, boards, sticks, and plenty of seaweed) blocked our way off and on all day. We posted Kay on the bow to keep a sharp eye out for the less obvious hazards and agreed on hand signals to guide us through it all.
The signals are designed to be clearly visible to the helm. A straight arm out means start a slow turn in this direction to avoid and obstacle ahead. Bending and straightening the arm to make a pointing motion ads urgency for a quicker turn. Both hands out means slow down. Both hands out raised high above the head means full stop. Our signaling is a work in progress. The first iterations were difficult to see at the helm and difficult to interpret, but we're getting better
We hit the narrows right about when we wanted to and the passage proceeded smartly. We found about 18' in the narrows at 3/4 tide, that's a little less than twelve feet under the keel: plenty of room.
Poking our noses out into the sound we were delighted to find mild conditions. It turned out to be a lovely afternoon and evening in spite of the forecast.
There were two wildlife viewing highlights for the day. A pod of a dozen or so porpoises escorted the boat for a while. Then after the narrows, a whale put on a show for us, taking full body leaps out of the water (breaching). It seemed as though it was trying to make the largest splash posssible. It blew fountains of mist into the air and then launched itself up out of the water again and again, like it thought we were National Geographic photographers. It will be sorely disappointed when the next issue comes out.
With the going good, we made a long day of it today and anchored in Smithers Island Cove, rather than Hague Point Lagoon (for those back home who are keeping score). The setting is beautiful, but the anchor holding can be difficult because the bottom is rocky. Thankfully our oversized anchor set easily and we spent another lovely evening with our transom fifty feet off the shoreline. Nice.
Day 22 - Making Friends in Mary Cove; Rod
It's Sunday evening on Quijote; we're anchored next to a babbling brook - several of them in fact. Water is coursing down the Roderick Island hillsides around us and while we can't see the streaming through the dense thicket of cedars, the gurgling has been a constant companion since our arrival this afternoon.
We have other companions keeping us company tonight as well: while paddling the dinghy around the cove before dinner, we spied a sea otter swimming full speed astern on his back. We thought we might be able to sneak in ahead of him by scooting the dinghy silently into his path and letting him pass us unaware of our existence. Unfortunately that took us closer to the mouth of the cove were the waves were a little more energetic and the dinghy started slapping a warning - enough to rouse the otter's awareness. He stretched his neck to elevate his eyes as far as he could get them, then stared at us for a long moment. You could just see him thinking: "what the…" If life was a cartoon this is where his eyes would bug out as he suddenly realized we did not belong in his cove. As it was, he rolled into the depths with a flourish, and was gone.
An hour later, back on board the boat, Kay noticed something moving on shore fairly close. Training our binoculars on the creature, we couldn't decide what it was, even with a good, long look. I was convinced at first that it was a harbor seal, but while it's head, snout and body looked like a seal, it crawled around on the rocks on all fours, then swam in the water with the ease of a seal. We took to calling it a sea weasel, but without books or internet we still don't know what it was.
It was a good day for wildlife viewing on the way over here as well. We had a nice, long look at a pod of humpback whales rolling about, lifting their tails, spouting and frolicking. Then on a couple of occasions we were escorted by a pair of Dall's porpoise racing along side the boat as though daring us to ramp it up a notch. They raced in front and peeled away again and again. It's common behavior for them, but always a thrill to see.
We have a late departure planned for tomorrow, so maybe we'll see our new friends again in the morning. We want to make sure the depth in Meyer's Passage isn't too low when we go through. Then we're on to Larado Channel and a few more nights into Prince Rupert.
We have other companions keeping us company tonight as well: while paddling the dinghy around the cove before dinner, we spied a sea otter swimming full speed astern on his back. We thought we might be able to sneak in ahead of him by scooting the dinghy silently into his path and letting him pass us unaware of our existence. Unfortunately that took us closer to the mouth of the cove were the waves were a little more energetic and the dinghy started slapping a warning - enough to rouse the otter's awareness. He stretched his neck to elevate his eyes as far as he could get them, then stared at us for a long moment. You could just see him thinking: "what the…" If life was a cartoon this is where his eyes would bug out as he suddenly realized we did not belong in his cove. As it was, he rolled into the depths with a flourish, and was gone.
An hour later, back on board the boat, Kay noticed something moving on shore fairly close. Training our binoculars on the creature, we couldn't decide what it was, even with a good, long look. I was convinced at first that it was a harbor seal, but while it's head, snout and body looked like a seal, it crawled around on the rocks on all fours, then swam in the water with the ease of a seal. We took to calling it a sea weasel, but without books or internet we still don't know what it was.
It was a good day for wildlife viewing on the way over here as well. We had a nice, long look at a pod of humpback whales rolling about, lifting their tails, spouting and frolicking. Then on a couple of occasions we were escorted by a pair of Dall's porpoise racing along side the boat as though daring us to ramp it up a notch. They raced in front and peeled away again and again. It's common behavior for them, but always a thrill to see.
We have a late departure planned for tomorrow, so maybe we'll see our new friends again in the morning. We want to make sure the depth in Meyer's Passage isn't too low when we go through. Then we're on to Larado Channel and a few more nights into Prince Rupert.
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