Day 89 - Fire and ice

We're in Shearwater tonight. The water tanks are filling while we drink gin and tonics. In real ice! Ahh!

What a terrific weather day it was today: hot and sunny; just like it was the last time we were here. Word has it the weather is not always like this. A week ago, they say, a big electrical storm hit and knocked out electricity thoughout the entire town. And they say July was a brutal month for rain. Sitting here, cold drink in hand on such a hot day, it's hard to picture it. I will always remember Shearwater as the sunniest, hottest marina on the inside passage.

We left Boat Cove this morning at high tide and were tied up by 11:30 or so. Boat Cove was one of the smaller coves we've anchored in: a tiny little land locked cove that has just enough swinging room for two or three boats and sits inside a short, shallow, narrow entrance. The entrance has just two feet of depth at zero tide, so we had to come and go while the tide was high. Add ten feet of tide to that two feet of depth and we had just a few feet to spare when we left this morning.

The memorable thing about Boat Cove though wasn't that it was small, cozy, quiet and beautiful. We can say that about most of the anchorages along the way. The memorable thing about it was the crab that we scored while we were there. We arrived last night, after winding our way through Percival Narrows, to find a motor-cruiser in "our" cove. what was worse, they had crab pots out that took up half the cove. Hurrumph! Those crab pots turned out to be pretty sweet in the long run.

While Wendy and I were out for a dinghy row around the cove, checking out the nooks and crannies, the couple on the cruiser, "Remote Access," (their tender is called "Local Access") called out to ask if we wanted some crab. They were from Anacortes and were so friendly. It was really nice to meet them. We chatted for a while and they gave a large bag of crab. It was even cooked. Way cool. They had more than they could eat they said. I guess it really pays to put those pots out. We have one, but we don't catch fish and so don't have much in the way of bait. They use the heads off the fish they catch and mix it with cat food, the story goes.

One of the things I'd like to improve about this whole experience is my ability to take advantage of the bounty that inhabits the waters around the boat. It would be a lot easier on a bigger boat. I have to choose carefully what we make room for on a 37' boat and so far fishing gear has not been high on the list. Some day I'll make it happen. I have to learn to make it work first. Once I know what I'm doing I'll have confidence that the space I'm taking up for it is space well spent.

We put that crab to good use. Jerry spent the better part of half an hour cleaning the meat from the shell. Then tonight while sitting at the dock in Shearwater Kay, with Wendy's help, made crab cakes from a recipe Kay brought, imagining that we would catch crab at some point on this trip. Those were some awesome crab cakes: moist, fresh and flavorful.

The bay we anchored in the night before last, around the east end of Roderick Island, was called Windy Bay. It was the antithesis of Boat Cove. The bay was large, deep and easy to get into. In fact, it was so large and so deep, that it had difficulties of another kind: instead of being difficult to get into, it was difficult to anchor in. The ideal depth for anchoring is thirty to seventy feet. Much less than thirty feet and you run the risk of running aground at low tide. Much more than 70 feet needs too much anchor chain to give you good scope. Windy Bay stays deep and then gets to the right depth close to shore. There was one spot that was easiest to anchor in, but someone had already parked their boat there, so we were forced to find another spot that was less optimal. We ended up in seventy feet of water with three to one scope: 210 feet of chain. Three to one is fine if you don't expect to get blown around much. As it turned out, the bay was calm for the night.

The advantage of such a big, wide bay, didn't present itself until the following morning. I was up on deck, enjoying the stillness of the morning with a mug of hot chocolate and listening to the gulls singing their morning songs, when I heard the distinctive sound of whales breathing. I didn't see anything right away though. We were so used to seeing the humpbacks blowing mist when they breathe. It turns out these were orcas. The pod took a spin through the bay and went out through a small passage at the entrance.

Now we're in Shearwater. The tanks are full, the laundry is done, dinner is eaten and showers taken. We ended up doing the hike to Eddy Lake that Bob did on the day he departed. As I think he noted at that time, it is a bit of a mud slog. With the day hot and sweaty, it was so so nice to go swimming when we got there.

Tomorrow Wendy and Jerry will be leaving us to fly home and we will be sorry to see them go. They have been excellent crew: eager to contribute and great company. After seeing them off, Kay and I will continue south retracing our steps through Gunboat Passage and into Fitz Hugh Sound toward Cape Caution and Port McNeill where we'll meet Knute and Mary Lou. What fun!

Day 87 - Cheers

Wendy and Jerry whipped up an Indian(ish) meal for dinner tonight consisting of curry, tofu, cuscus, rice and other assorted tidbits. Was that cocoanut and sweet potatoes in there? Yum! They also served a curry ginger cabbage salad that was excellent, and artisan bread dipped in balsamic vinegar and Salim's awesome home pressed olive oil.

Three cheers for the cooks! Three cheers for Salim!

Day 86 - What's up doc?

Tomorrow morning we'll weigh anchor, slip through Thistle Passage, and make the return trip through Meyers Narrows. We'll have to navigate the narrows at low water slack, so we'll see depths of 20' or less. High water slack would mean a six hour wait and I'd rather have no current than more depth. All it takes is 6.5 feet. After popping out on the other side of Meyers Narrows, we'll start a two day circumnavigation of Roderick Island. What a great name for an island!

So… From Prince Rupert, we spent nights at Captain Cove, Ire Inlet, Curlew Bay, Hague Point Lagoon and Alston Cove. Then it'll be Windy Cove, Boat Cove, and Shearwater - eight nights in paradise on this segment, each one better than the next. Or so it seems sometimes, but that may have more to do with a dubious memory than with the quality of the anchorages. I can say that the bugs have been behaving themselves and we haven't seen more than one other boat in any anchorage this segment. I anticipate that the further south we get the more competition we will see for the anchorages.

Day 85 - Room with a View

Hague Point Lagoon is one of two anchorages that had me feeling a little nervous when I picked them. Like Ire Inlet a couple of nights ago, the description of it was that it is very narrow and poorly charted. Great. Further, while Ire had ample depth, the entrance to Hague is a fathom at low tide. That's less than the boat draws, so timing is key. The other thing that gives me pause for both anchorages is that I never really know what to expect for current. My strategy was to hit it at high water and have faith that the current (and depth) will be reasonable.

As ever, the unknown was a larger demon than the deed itself. There was plenty of depth and very little current. But it was narrow. There's a short dogleg around a couple of charted obstructions in the narrowest part, so slack water gave us the luxury of going slowly around them.

Once in, we found ourselves in a circular little cove with easy anchoring and room for several boats. Kay whipped up an awesome halibut chowder for dinner and then the four of us rowed the dinghy to shore for a walk. There wasn't much in the way of shoreline, but the chart showed a lake nearby. We found the drainage into the cove and followed it through a mossy cedar forest to the primeval looking lake. There was no accessible shoreline on the lake either, but it was beautiful. I have little doubt that the lake and this cove look the same as they did ten thousand years ago. Untouched. OK one touch: a small path has begun to form where boaters like us have crawled through the brush in search of the lake. Everybody likes a little exercise and a view.

Day 84 - What's in a Name

Lunch is in the works as I consider what to write about this anchorage. A lot of nicknames could serve for Curlew Bay. Ravens Roost? Fly Basin? Mamba Midden? Humpback Hideaway?

There is a colony of ravens perched in the trees overlooking the boat that make the most bizarre sounds. They cluck, hoot, whistle and honk at irregular intervals. Even flying, their large wing spans make a louder whooshing sound than most birds I've heard. Quiet these birds are not, but they are entertaining.

The sun is out and so are the flies. We probably shouldn't call this anchorage Fly Basin though because another already exists. We anchored in the official Fly Basin after rounding Cape Caution on our way north. Oddly enough there were no flies in Fly Basin. In these conditions though, I'll bet any anchorage could be counted on for a few flies. We've primarily seen deer flies on this trip. They don't bite unless you ignore them. They also don't die. They have an innate sense of danger that allows them to ignore feints, but disappear at the first hint of real intent. Moreover if you do succeed in striking one, no casual blow will do. You can leave it's guts smeared on the deck and it will still fly away, laughing at you for the mess you have to clean up. That's a fly with an impressive degree of evolutionary complexity.

The name Mamba Midden is a nod to the cruise ships that have sailed by on their way up toward Grenville Channel the last time we anchored here. I was working on something below deck and and I thought I heard music. That's a curious sensation in an anchorage that feels so remote. I couldn't imagine where it would be coming from. Poking my head through the hatch and looking up into the channel I saw what appeared to be a city block floating by the bay entrance. The passengers on the upper deck of that floating fourteen story building sounded like they were having a grand old time.

Then there are the possibilities such as Whale Outlook, Humpback Hideaway, or Breach Bay. We threaded our way out of Ala Passage in the dark today, our second pre-dawn start of the trip, then passed through Principe and Otter Channels, and up through Lewis Passage before turning into Curlew Bay. We saw whales blowing, sounding, and breaching just about the whole way. Their numbers seem to have increased throughout the summer. It would be interesting to know if they are just more active or if we are more in tune with their presence and just notice them more readily. The last time we passed through here, we didn't see any in this area. This time we can even see and hear them out in the channel from our anchorage.

There are so many great names to choose from. Then again, with a halibut taco now in hand, maybe I'll just call it Leftover Lunch Lagoon.

Day 83 - High Water Waiting

We tried to time our arrival into Ire Inlet on Anger Island for high water slack at around 4pm, but we made better progress than expected and needed to kill some time before entering. We cut the engine and drifted for an hour while we ate lunch. It was tough duty on a windy summer day in the sunshine with wild coastline all around. Kay and Wendy put together a delicious spinach salad with tuna salad on crackers. We drifted along at two knots in a stiff, steady breeze, without the benefit of sails.

The further we get from Prince Rupert, the more remote it feels. There are no longer any signs of human presence and we only saw one other vessel all day. We passed Sine, Cosine and Tangent Islands, so named by surveyors who found the islands difficult to record without trigonometric conveniences.

The entrance into the inlet was about as narrow as we've seen on this trip, with rocks on one side and fallen trees encroaching on the other. Threading our way through, we were glad for the high tide.

There's a sidebar in our guidebook by Douglass detailing the misfortune of one sailboat that got their rigging wrapped up in one of the trees on the way in and were forced to extricate themselves with saws, doing considerable damage to the boat in the process. Thankfully we avoided such pitfalls, but we did see the results of their labors fifteen years later.

Tomorrow we'll make our way out the way we came in. Getting out at high tide again will mean a 5am start. Up at 4:50 and out at 5:00; there'll be no waiting around for it.

Day 82 - Snubbed

We're in Captain Cove tonight, an anchorage we blew by on our way north. Today we're covering ground at a more leisurely pace. We're on our first day out with Wendy and Jerry after saying sad farewells to Tina, Sue and Tom.

After a late start, we enjoyed a sunny, windy day. The winds were even blowing in the right direction. We hoisted sails and flew south from Prince Rupert, out of Chatham Sound, and through Arthur Passage into our own slice of tranquility.

If I had to coin a nickname for this cove, I'd call it Hummingbird Bay. Shortly after arriving, we ran through our anchoring and snubbing procedure with Wendy and Jerry. We set our anchor with a four to one scope, then rigged a snubber to take the strain off the the windlass and to dampen the chain noise if it drags back and forth on the sea bottom.

With the snubber set, we were standing on the foredeck chatting, when a hummingbird swooped in, probably attracted by my bright red jacket. It hovered a foot from my face and we stared at each other eye to eye for a moment. He was clearly wondering what kind of huge red flower I could be and I was wondering if I was about to lose an eye to that long, needle sharp beak. Finally the spell was broken with his deciding I didn't smell as good as I looked. We moved on, each attending to our need for sustenance.