Day 34 - Sancho Says... ; Kay

Well!  Sancho Panza here, coming to you after several days of silence on the SV Quijote blog.  Life on Quijote is unbelievably busy!  After Bob departed in Shearwater, BC a whole week went by with few conversations between Rod and Kay.  They appeared to have a good time, it was just a bit quiet after Bob's hilarious dry humor and thoughtful probing questions which kept everyone engaged with each other.  Rod and Kay kept busy with more solitary activities such as reading and writing.

In Prince Rupert, BC the De Wulf family of 4 joined us which ramped up the inter-personal activity. They are active with sailing, conversing, playing of cards, and listening to music, still leaving plenty of time to rest and read.  Most notable are amazing dinner meals during which there is much activity resulting in delectable gourmet delights thanks to the efforts of Jake, and supporting assistance.

Today we are anchored in a lovely little bay known as Meyer's Chuck.  Maybe it is Chinook jargon for a body of water.  And the Meyers settled here many years ago.  There are a handful of homes dotted around the rocky, treed shoreline.  Most appear to be summer homes. We dinghied to the dock and walked The Path which is the path past the various permanent residences and summer-time homes.  No road. No sidewalk. Just a dirt path through lush forest of ferns and salal and trees to the various dwellings.

Kay took me for an evening dinghy row around the bay.  She rowed up to boats docked at the public float and chatted with various other travelers. Always an interesting collection of folks from which to gleen information.  They love to share their stories and are always interested in our travels as well.

Sailing days have been rather sporty with swells and wind waves causing conditions which can be trying on one's enjoyment of the ride. Kay however appears to enjoy the rollicking waters with glee.  Baking muffins down below while I, Sancho Panza, assist her in holding on to items which would otherwise fly across the galley when Quijote rolls back and forth with the swell. She appears to genuinely enjoy the excitement, spontaneously emitting whoops and yahoos to express enthusiasm.

Each day we look forward to adventure.  Sometimes it is a remote, yet developed area such as Meyer's Chuck. Sometimes it is a remote and lonely anchorage, such as Patterson Inlet.  Sometimes it is a noisy, smelly town where fueling, water replenishing, and stocking up on fresh food occurs. It is always a good sail and a good day.

And every night is a good sleep. Which is where we are all headed now, to bed.

This is Sancho Panza, Out.

Day 30 - Faucet Fun; Rod

We're in Prince Rupert for two nights and it has turned out to be a relaxing and enjoyable stay. I've been impressed with the town and its people. They're friendly and take obvious pride in their public places. My primary goal aside from filling tanks and meeting up with the De Wulfs, was to fix that galley faucet.

It took several hikes to the hardware store (did I say I wanted exercise?), but it's finally done. At one point Frederic and I must have had every employee in the hardware store in a turmoil opening boxes and hunting for tools and fittings.

The first one we tried hit the cabinet above it. The second had the wrong base and seemed to be missing pieces, but the third time was the charm. Even with the right faucet, the hole in the counter was too narrow and had to be enlarged. Frederic and I scratched our heads over that for a while before finally buying a large wood bit and plugging the old hole with a wooden plug to allow us to drill out the new hole.

In the end, with the solution and the right parts in hand, the installation went quickly. And for all that effort we get a nicer faucet and new valves under the sink so the water can be turned off. We can finally relax and do something else in town beside traipsing back and forth to the hardware store. Frederic is celebrating a job well done by rattling the floorboards. At least I hope that's not someone taking a chainsaw to the aft cabin.

Day 28 - Hikers Remorse ; Rod

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Day 22 - Shearwater stopover; Bob

Hiking to Edge Lake

We stopped at the coastal town of Shearwater after a glorious run up Gunboat Passage.  This area has a sub-alpine quality to it with smaller trees.  At times Gunboat passage looked just like a long gorgeous mountain lake.

This is sport-fishing country apparently.  At the dock in Shearwater there were several professional charter boats ready for customers and happy to charge from 6-1200 dollars per day for the privilege of getting a salmon or two.  I think the season was in a lull for I did not see any actual salmon that had been caught.

This was where I was dropped off to head back to Seattle.  I needed to get back to attend my daughter's High School graduation!  We had a great dinner and took advantage of the "Loonie Showers" the night before I parted ways with the rest of the crew.   They are sailing on and I miss them!  Others will join them soon.

It was sad to leave and I had most of day to "kill" as I waited for a flight at the nearby town of Bella Bella.  What to do?  I decided to go on a hike.  It was quite hot and the trail I saw on a little brochure was difficult to find.  I got the impression that few people ever actually walk on this trail - perhaps because of bear danger?  I was alone and the trail was very wet in the low spots.  After gamely crossing about 30 of these very dark pools of bog water the bugs were starting to wake up and I did not want to get my feet wet so I headed back to town.  I only walked maybe 4 miles but it was hot enough to make me start to sweat.

Next I kicked around Shearwater, doing a bit of exploring.  This was an old RCAF base where seaplanes were based for a time.  Many rather large hangers and buildings date from that era in WWII.  I came across an old bunker where the airmen would take cover if the Japanese attacked.  It has a "company town" feeling and there is a bit of poverty evident.  One treat: I saw a deer swimming across the channel....

First Nations canoe

Next I took a water taxi to the nearby town of Bella Bella in British Columbia.  This is a First Nations town and it was really interesting.  I had several great conversations with people, all very very friendly.  At the airport there was some excitement.  Just as we were about to board our flight out, another private came in for a hard landing and damaged the runway.  We could not take off for about an hour and there was much rushing about as the wrecked plane was removed.  Apparently this is the only crash in the last 15 years there!

Queenie

Then I took a scenic flight to Port Hardy, flying over the very area we had just sailed up (Fitz Hugh passage).  After a stop there, we flew for another hour to Vancouver and I re-entered civilization!  The trip over the northern part of Vancouver Island was really special.  I could see just how far we had sailed and saw more boats making their way North...

Day 21 - Weather works; Rod

We've been sailing and motoring our way up Fitzhugh Sound for the last three days, anchoring in small coves along the way. The weather has been somewhat grim the whole time: rain, drizzle, blustery winds, choppy seas; rewind, replay.

At night we turn the radio on and listen to the weather forecast. for that night, the following day and for several days after that. Listening to the reports requires patience and a proficiency that takes some time to build. Most of the report is not useful. The thing that makes the listening and the comprehension difficult is that they give a report that covers so much ground. And the report is organized by topic and not by region.

First there is a synopsis that describes frontal movements, then a report that goes region by region along the coast of northern Canada and gives for each, a forecast for the night and the following day. Then you have to wait through a long list of sea state forecasts, buoy reports, lighthouse reports, and finally an extended three day forecast for the same regions covered earlier.

The region we are in at the moment is called "Central Coast: McInnes Island to Pine Island." To get a report for tonight, tomorrow, and the next three days, You have to sit and listen for a long time and snatch what you need from different places in the report. If you get distracted by someone talking to you at the wrong time, or have difficulty listening and writing at the same time, You'll have to listen for quite a while to hear it again in the next loop.

One thing that helps is to time the stages of the report. Tonight, for example, it took six minutes between the next day forecast and the extended forecast for a given region, and the entire loop took 16 minutes. Knowing this gives me the option to do something else while waiting for what we want to know.

It has also been suggested that we can record the parts of interest to make it easier to re-listen.

There are ways to receive this information as a text file by satellite, but when I looked into the technology, I found it to be expensive for the equipment, expensive for the service, and likely to be ineffective at getting reception in a small cove.

So we listen. And listen, and listen. And it gives us a sense of what to expect out there. Sort of.

Day 20 - The Fury Cove Boat Show; Rod

The last couple of nights we've enjoyed anchorages to ourselves; blessed seclusion. Tonight we're stacked into Fury Cove like cordwood with eight other boats. This is a very popular place. It didn't start out that way. We were the first ones here at 10:30 this morning and we set our anchor well with ample rode. At that time we entertained the delusion that maybe we'd be lucky enough to have the cove to ourselves for the two nights that we planned to stay.

Then the boats started arriving, one by one all afternoon and into the evening - each seeming to use less rode than the last, until the most recent arrivals which appeared to rest their anchors on the bottom under their boats

While the other boats were fighting for space, we deployed the inflatable kayak for the first time, then paddled the dinghy and the kayak to the beach to explore the tidal pools, hike around a bit, and play some frisbee. We can report that the kayak does not handle well if you put the seats in backward; it puts the rudder at the front and serves to spin the boat in circles when you try to paddle forward. Doh!

Fury Cove has a beautiful setting. It's a small cove protected from the wind and waves of the sound outside, by a ring of small islands with drying shoals between them that offer a view of the action outside. We wouldn't have missed it, even with the crowd around us.

Day 19 - Learning the Caution in Cape Caution; Rod

We got lucky rounding Cape Caution yesterday. After a long few days of high pressure, the swells off the Pacific Ocean had dampened to ripples under a light breeze. This wasn't entirely luck, as we had proceeded with a little more haste than planned in order to put ourselves in exactly that position. Still, it was lucky to have the opportunity to make our break under those conditions. We were poking our noses out into the Pacific Ocean and it felt like a day on Greenlake - only bigger.

The planning had given us short hops to get around the cape in case conditions were rough, but we made the decision to blow by our intended target for that night and get around the cape while the getting was good. In retrospect, it would probably have been prudent to go even further than we did. What's another three hours after we've already done ten?

As it was we did one long day from Claydon Bay in the Broughtons, around Cape Caution, and into Fly Basin - then did the next three hours this morning. While we rested, the winds built up and got the Pacific Ocean rolling. Heading out into it to push ourselves into Fitzhugh Sound, the winds were moderate. The one foot chop and 3' swell was also tolerable while we were heading into it, but as soon as we were forced to turn north, we got rolled around uncomfortably by quartering seas that would have made it difficult to keep our breakfast down if we had had to endure it for much longer than the hour or two that we did.

Having a tase of it, we can see how difficult a rounding of Cape Caution could be. Ten hours of what we experienced this morning would have been miserable. The boat would have handled it just fine, but it would have been pretty tough on us. Add to that higher wind velocities, larger chop, bigger swells and it is clear that the rounding of Cape Caution is a passage whose name and reputation are well deserved.

Day 19- Flying objects; Kay

Every day there is a lesson to be learned.  Today's lesson: Always be prepared.

After listening to the weather report on the VHF radio, after viewing Fitz Hugh Sound from the calm of our anchorage in Fury Cove, after securing the dinghy, and items in our berths, the salon, and the galley, donning our foul-weather gear, we pulled anchor and headed out to begin passage from south to north, up Fitz Hugh Sound.

The south end of Fitz Hugh Sound is open to Queen Charlotte Sound and subsequently open to the Pacific Ocean.  We just needed to get out of our anchorage, get out into Fitz Hugh Sound a bit and take a right hand turn.  Get the wind on our stern, and head north.   

Sounds easy.  It was intense…..

The galley had been cleaned up and put away quite well. The navigation station had appeared tidy and organized.  The 'head' seemed fine.

However, as things got rough on deck a peek below showed utter chaos from flying objects in the cabin.  Books littered the floor and the 'head' was wet from open hatches. Stepping into the swaying melee, I watched as items seemingly secure behind the sink slide from one side of the counter, then back again before toppling into the sink.  The coup de tat was the cutting board flying out of it's slot across the salon! 

Day 19 - Anchor crew technical note; Bob

Anchoring when we arrive in a bay for the night and pulling up the anchor when we are ready to leave the following morning are things we do every day.  They are part of the routine of life aboard Quijote.  If you are planning to be part of our crew this summer, this blog post will give you an idea of the anchoring procedures.

To lower the anchor we start by activating the windlass circuit breakers.  Then one person stands by at the bow and waits for Rod to give the signal to lower away.  Remove the anchor tie and lower the anchor with the deck switch and call out the depths as the markers on the chain go by twenty feet at a time.  When the right amount of chain is out, Rod will yell stop.  He will then set the chain and may ask for more chain as conditions dictate.  The crew at the bow can assist in this by laying a hand on the chain near the windlass and feeling for vibrations that indicate the chain is dragging.  In the absence of dragging, the chain will grow taught and will not vibrate.  The crew can then agree that the anchor has set and the engine will be shut down.  At that point, a snubber is added to the chain that takes the stress off the windlass and adds a little stretch to the system, which is easier on the chain and the boat.

To raise the anchor in the morning we start by digging the yellow deck hose out of the cockpit locker.  The hose is connected to the deck-wash connector on the deck and the deck-wash circuit breaker is turned on that will pump sea water though the hose.  We use the deck wash hose to clean mud off the chain and anchor as it comes up.  The engine needs to be running to raise the anchor, so Rod will start the engine.  With the engine running, the bow person will start by raising enough anchor to allow the snubber to be removed.  After removing and coiling the snubber, the bow person and Rod will make eye contact and give each other a thumbs up to indicate both are ready to raise the anchor.  The bow person will then raise the anchor by engaging the deck switch as seen in the image  above.  Depending on how the chain was laid onto the sea bed or how it has moved during the night, bringing up chain can move the boat around.  If the windlass starts to labor audibly, the bow person should stop raising and let the boat position catch up with the chain.  Pointing at the direction of the chain can help as well, since it will allow Rod to use the engine to help with moving the boat.  As chain comes up muddy, the bowman hoses it with the deck was hose, so it comes on board clean.  The person also calls out the depth as the markers come up, so Rod will know when the anchor has been lifted off the bottom.  Also call out when the anchor is in sight. The bow person allows the anchor to hang from the bow roller and washes it with the deck-wash hose.   When the chain and anchor are clean of mud, the anchor can be lifted into place on the bow roller.  This sometimes manual effort if the anchor wants to come up backward.  After the anchor is in place, the line to secure the anchor is tied and the tension on the chain is removed with the deck switch.

Day 18- Flora and fauna summary; Bob

Before the trip started, I wondered  how much wildlife and interesting plants we would see.  Here is the situation as of Day 18.  Keep in mind that it is still relatively early in the warm season, more Spring than Summer.  Obviously the flora and fauna may change a lot as we get further into the trip.   The binoculars are picked up many times per hour.  We are not keeping any "list" of the species we see.

Birds are the most common wildlife and gulls tie with ducks as the most common birdlife.  Eagles, particularly bald eagles with their white heads, are easy to pick out and we might see 5-15 per day.  We hundreds of ducks and gulls per day. We saw beautiful red-throated loons last night and pairs of merganser ducks are seen a couple of times per day at least.  We sometimes see great blue herons and the occasional Kingfisher.  No grouse or owls have been seen, but we do hear owls.  Shorebirds, like Oyster Catchers are not visible so far but I did see a hummingbird.  We hear robins frequently, and I have heard Northern Flickers when anchored.  Crows are quite common. 

Trees are growing everywhere on land.   Here, the ground is very rocky with a thin layer of mossy soil.  Somehow the trees grow, even on rocky islands   As we went inland the trees were more towering, and we have seen huge cedars, Douglas Fir and Hemlock in addition to what I think is Sitka Spruce.  Earlier in the trip we saw the deciduous Madrona tree, but I think we have passed the northern range of it now.  The trees grow right up to the edge of the intertidal zone but never touch the salt water.  There is a perfect horizontal layer of tree branches above the water - like it has been clipped.  When we hike, we see 3-4 species of ferns, Devil's Club, huckleberry bushes (no berries yet), lots of salmonberry bushes, and what seems to be mountain ash and perhaps a wild rhododendron.  Tons of moss and lichen carpet the rocky forest floor making it almost impossible to walk where a trail is lacking.  Alder trees are pretty common, and grow where the fir trees have been disturbed.  Skunk cabbage can be seen in low spots.  In the intertidal zone, we see lots of rockweed and some beach grass.   Kelp beds are starting to appear.

What is the most common mammal?  We have seen seals more than people.  Usually we just see their heads, but in the last few days we have found them sunning on rocks.  We see deer tracks, but no deer.  We have seen 2-3 black bears and one grizzly.  No moose or mountain goats or Dall sheep.  We have not seen raccoons or smaller mammals, except for one very dark squirrel.  One Humpback whale, and few small porpoises were spied on the 1st day.  We look forward to seeing our 1st confirmed otter.

Bumblebees are pretty common, they even are seen out near the boat.  Small flies are common on land and make quite a racket.  A few mosquitoes have been seen.  Dragonflies and striders are common around lakes.  Butterflies are not rare.

We see small fish, no large ones.  Ditto for crabs.  We saw a very small squid last night - about 10 inches long.  Jelly fish are common.  We see lots of shell evidence of clams and scallops.  Barnacles are everywhere in the intertidal zone and we also see oysters pretty frequently.  Mussel beds are not uncommon.

Finally, we saw a half dozen frogs on a hike yesterday.  These were quite small but quite active, about the size of a matchbox!

 

Day 17 = Time travel musing; Bob

What to think about on a lazy afternoon during this long sail?  Today, it felt as if the Quijote was back in time and we were travelling up the BC coast a few hundred years ago.  There was nothing in my view to indicate we were in he modern age - except of course for our boat itself - which surely would have been as foreign as an alien spaceship to anyone we encountered back then.  What if I could take but a single object back in time from the Quijote, say to the middle ages…. what would the preferred object be?

A radio would do one no good - there was no electricity or anyone to receive the transmission.  A sharp folding knife would impress and certainly be handy but was not that huge of a leap in technology.  A manual clock might do it, but every timepiece here is battery powered.  A signal flare would dazzle but it would be for one event only.

I think a simple portable lighter might do the trick.  It is useful, portable and even when empty would be a dazzling object.  If you have another idea of what to take back in time from our sailing ship, feel free to suggest it in the comment section!

Day 17 - The Broughtons; Rod

Our days in the Broughtons have been lovely. We entered through Spring Passage on a fine, sunny, windy afternoon after a long day from Port Harvey. Leaving Port Harvey that morning, yesterday it was, we chose to leave somewhat later than usual so that current through Chatham Narrows was at slack. (As a side note… I found it curious that slack in the narrows occurs hours before or after high or low tide. This puzzled me for a while because we're used to thinking of the currents in Puget Sound going slack as flood turns to ebb or visa versa, roughly at a point in time that corresponds to high or low tide. Look for more on the reason this is not so in these channels in a future post.)

Chatham Narrows is, well… narrow, and can be quite shallow, so we wanted to hit it with both depth and slack. We were able to time it so we entered ten minutes or so before slack at about mid-tide height, according to the tide and current tables. Our recorded minimum depth through the narrows was about 28 feet, so there was plenty of room to spare (Quijote draws 6.2'). Kay spotted our 1st grizzly there!  It was on the bank some distance away, but it was huge. 

There are range markers on the far shore going both directions; it is possible to position the boat in a way that the far and near markers are aligned, one above the other, to keep the boat in the center of the deepest part of the channel. We also put way points in the chart plotter for redundancy.

We glided through the narrows and into Knight Inlet without incident. From there it was a few hours out in the direction of Queen Charlotte Straight, dodging Islets with a 15 knot wind on our nose all the way.

We intended to spend three nights in the Broughton archipelago on our way through to Queen Charlotte Sound, but since the weather is looking favorable for getting around Cape Caution, we decided to bank a day and just spend two. The first was in Wadington Bay where it started off quite windy, but settled down as the evening wore on. The book described the anchorage as protected in all directions, but it didn't feel that way at first.

There was a large cabin cruiser anchored near the entrance to the bay and we thought it an odd choice of places to lower their anchor, since there are better, more protected corners of the bay available, but eventually we came to the conclusion that they chose the spot for the convenience of getting their dog ashore.

Our furst full day in the Broughtons, we were witness to a wonderland of tiny islands, remote craggy rocks, boundless forested hillsides, with occasional evidence of logging, aquaculture, and many crab pot buoys scattered about the marinescape.

We targeted Claydon Bay for the second night's anchorage, but noticed a small trail in the description for the Turnbull Cove, so we made a temporary stop to stretch our legs. The trail was short and sweet to a small dock with a picnic table on a picturesque lake. Kay found an abandoned paddle board and paddled around the lake for a while; Bob and I poked around in the woods along the shoreline enjoying the time on terra-firma.

Returning to Quijote, we found the cabin cruiser had followed us, again anchored near the entrance to the bay. We were half tempted to leave Quijote where she was, since the day was sunny, calm and quiet, and the boat was already anchored. But tomorrow was to be a long day and we'd be adding to that by staying put. The book also promised wildlife in Claydon Bay in the form of loons, herons and seals.

So we moved the boat and were quite pleased we did because we had red breasted loons, bald eagles, seals, and ducks to share the anchorage with, but no other boats. The loons clucked away in pairs, but started up a chorus of wailing when a bald eagle or a hawk flew overhead. The evening was warm and the water glassy as we enjoyed a meal of barbecued sausage, mashed potatoes and veggies, with a variety of bird calls filling the air around us. Perfect.

Day 14 - Slaying Dragons; Rod

It's a funny fact of recreational life that the better you prepare for slaying dragons, the fewer dragons there will be to slay. I guess that's another way of saying that the best way to beat dragons is to avoid them.

Reading about the lives that have been lost in Johnstone Straight, it's hard not to be intimidated by the idea of navigating through it. We're told to avoid large currents, large tidal exchanges, shoals, tugs, barges, heavy weather, spring tides, opposing wind and current, turbulence, and sea monsters. In crossing Seymour Narrows yesterday and Johnstone Straight for seven hours today, we avoided all of it - partly by luck and partly by doing our homework.

The first point of luck was high tide, 7am at Chatham Point on a day with relatively small tidal exchanges. Granted we might have chosen a different day if things had not been aligned so nicely. High tide allowed us to drag our buts out of bed at 6am and put ourselves in position to ride the ebb all the way to anchorage.

The second stroke of luck was a light to moderate SE wind that flowed in the same direction as the current. We even had the sails cranked out for a while.

We started the day in heavy rain and ended it in sunshine, at times fished through choppy turbulence and then glided across glassy water. We gave way to three tug and barge combos steaming down the straight in tandem, and later had the passage to ourselves. We motored and sailed, shivered and baked, ate well and socialized.

All the while we kept eyes out for dragons where none appeared. Yay verily.

Day 16 - Anchorage memories; Kay

Snuggled up in my sleeping bag sitting in the main salon area, listening to the rain dripping.  We've been lucky: little rain, few mosquitos, fairly warm.  

Two and a half weeks in to our 12 week trip and it is difficult to recall all the various anchorages.  Although they all have salt water, trees, hills and maybe mountains, they are also quite unique from each other.  I try to recall the differences to remember that wonderful places we've been.

Fly Basin was memorable, not for flies thankfully, but for the long, quiet dinghy excursion I took. Not only the feeling of ancient surroundings of mossy, fern-covered trees, but also the hidden marine and wildlife we don't see when on Quijote.  Sea Stars, sea cucumbers, schools of little fishies.  A mama duck and her ducklings nestled on a tiny rock island. The sound of a mammal splashing into the water's edge. So much life going on, day in and day out, regardless of the rest of the world.

Fury Cove was memorable for the many other anchored boats, the three of us playing frisbee on the beach, exploring rich tide pools on the edge of Queen Charlotte Sound.

Claydon Bay where we were greeted by an island of lazy, sleepy seals.  Dining al fresco while listening and watching pairs of loons. Sitting on the deck until the sun goes down, the birds become quiet, the stars begin the show. 

The list goes on.  Every anchorage being unique, beautiful, full of life.