Shearwater to Prince Rupert, British Columbia

On Tuesday, May 28 we waited until the Shearwater store opened at 9:00, and made a quick trip to buy some groceries. They had a surprisingly good selection of vegetables, but essentially no meat. The winds were very light, and we had a long way to go today, so it was a day of motoring. Seaforth Channel is open to the ocean, and can be nasty, but today it was calm and flat, sunny and warm.

A highlight was a group of about six Dall’s porpoises who played in our bow wave for 10 or 15 minutes. It was remarkable to watch their black and white bodies zip around the boat with such speed and control. It also is amazing that they can exhale and inhale in such a short moment of time. This was not the highlight of Schooner’s day, as he was totally freaked out by the dolphins. I unhooked him from his tether so he could go below, and he dove down the companionway. Unfortunately, he managed to get a leg on the radar, ripping it off of the bulkhead along with all of the wiring that powers and interconnects the radar, the depth sounder, the knotmeter and the GPS.

Tom Bay, Mathieson Channel, BC

After working our way through narrow Reid Passage into Mathieson Channel, the day began to cloud over. Eventually a nasty looking storm headed our way, and we were pummeled by strong winds, rain, hail, lightning and thunder. A microburst knocked our boat over on its side, even though we had no sails up. Visibility was nil, and it was all a bit frightening. It did not last long, however, and we suffered only one significant loss, as my glasses got stepped on in the turmoil, and the frames are now an odd, unusable shape. I do have an extra pair along fortunately.

The next challenge was anchoring without a depth sounder. The other two boats use electronic chart plotters that show your position at all times, and allow you to get to a suitable anchoring depth. We however, in our Luddite tradition don’t need no stinkin’ chart plotter, and use paper charts. Actually, figuring out where we are, and where we should or should not go is one of the major pleasures of cruising for us, and more satisfying than essentially playing a video game on a screen. However, that means that our depth sounder is pretty important for picking a spot to drop the anchor.

Rescue Bay, BC

Well, we are not total Luddites, and do have a laptop computer with a navigation program plus a little GPS with a USB plug, so can create a chart plotter if necessity demands. Well she was demanding it, so we fired it up. The major downside to this setup is that you can’t really see a laptop screen well in sunlight, and a drop or two of salt water is pretty much guaranteed to kill a computer. So one person sits down below watching the computer, while shouting instructions to the person at the helm. It worked – we missed all of the rocks on the way in, and anchored in a perfect spot in Rescue Bay on Susan Island. Jean rowed Schooner ashore and another thunderstorm blew in, drenching them with an incredible amount of water. We spent the evening repairing the electronics. Of course I had made no record of how I had wired it all together, so had to get out all of the manuals and figure out the wiring diagrams. It took a bit of time, but before bed it was all functioning once again.

Ferry, Tolmie Channel, BC

We began Wednesday by transiting Jackson Narrows. This is a tiny little slot, full of rocks that requires a circuitous course to safely pass it. Of course there are no navigational aids to help you out. Lights and buoys are only provided on the main routes used by ferries, tugs and cruise ships. We managed it fine, and continued through Jackson Passage and crossed over to Klemtu Passage. Again the wind was light, and we had miles to go, so we motored. We were greeted at the entrance to Klemtu Passage by a sea otter who swam over to check us out, and a bald eagle who gave us a regal stare from his perch on the shore. We passed the native village of Klemtu, admiring the ceremonial longhouse, and the totem pole at the ferry dock. Two porpoises joined us in Tomie Channel. They didn’t splash much, and were pretty unobtrusive, but they awoke Schooner from a sound sleep, and he again became very agitated. He must be able to hear their high frequency calls that are unheard by us.

Waterfall, Graham Reach, Princess Royal Channel, BC

It was a warm sunny day, and Jean spent many hours cleaning and drying out the boat’s contents. The scenery in Princess Royal Channel was superb; granite mountains carved into classic shapes by glaciers, with waterfalls falling thousands of feet down to the sea from high altitude lakes. The sunny day gradually deteriorated, and it began to rain just as we approached our anchorage in Khutze Inlet. Due to the glacial terrain, we are forced to anchor in water that is quite a bit deeper than our usual experience. Down south we generally anchor in 20 – 30 feet, and in Khutze Inlet we anchored in 45 feet. We put out 3-5 times more anchor rode than the depth, so the amount to haul back in increases quickly with depth, and the weight of the chain added to the 35 pound anchor becomes a good physical workout to start the day.

Khutze Inlet, BC

Just as we were finished setting our anchor we unexpectedly bumped into Bruce and Elaine’s boat, so one of us was dragging anchor. Since we were the last arrivals it was our responsibility to move, so we hauled it all back up and started over. Bruce decided to move as well, and upon later reflection, considering the winds, it seems more likely that he was the one dragging. At any rate, no blame was apportioned and we both ended up in a secure location. We hosted a pot luck dinner on our boat featuring the fresh shrimp acquired in Bella Bella, and had a good long visit with each other. As everyone left, our boat was a bit of a mess, but we didn’t have to row back in the rain!

Khutze Inlet, BC

Thursday began with a pair of stunning harlequin ducks swimming past our boat, and then we had another anchor adventure. We had put down a 20-lb lead cannonball as a kellet. This helps keep the anchor pulling at the proper angle if the wind starts to blow hard, and also limits our swinging around the anchor when the wind is light. We were a bit close to shore, so put it down as insurance overnight. The kellet is designed to slide down the rope part of anchor rode, but due to the deep water and operator error it ended up snagged on the chain. This added another 20 pounds to the weight to lift up, and when it arrived it was wrapped around the chain several times, requiring acrobatic maneuvers with a 20-lb ball of lead while leaning precariously over the bow of the boat. After all was complete we left half an hour late. Of course it was raining the entire time, and proceeded to rain all day.

Rock Wall, Fraser Reach, Princess Royal Channel, BC

The only weather forecasts we can obtain are broadcast by the coast guard. These are detailed about wind velocities and sea heights, but don’t say much about sun vs clouds or rain vs dry. In addition, the weather in these fjords is very local, and may not correspond at all with the larger picture. The result is that the weather is usually a bit of a surprise every day, and we take what we find. The fact that this is a temperate rain forest ecosystem does suggest that rain should not be an unexpected surprise. Just the same, motoring all day in windless light rain is not the best possibility for us. The weather was counterbalanced by the continuing stunning waterfalls pouring off of the vertical mountains. We sailed up to one almost close enough to touch it, and the water was still 270 feet deep.

Waterfall, Fraser Reach, Princess Royal Channel, BC

We poked in to look at Butedale, another rotting cannery with a few folks living there. During the day we saw more porpoises, a sea lion, another humpback whale, and most interesting, a deer swimming half a mile from shore, with another half mile to go to the other side. We haven’t seen a lot of deer. The locals say they don’t need any fencing for their gardens due to the healthy population of wolves. We finally arrived at the native village of Hartley Bay, where we bought fuel, filled up our water tanks, and squeezed into the docks among the native fishing boats. People are very welcoming and generous. A rare cell phone signal gave us chance to contact some folks, but still no internet.

Canoe, Hartley Bay, BC

Leaving Hartley Bay we will enter Grenville Channel, which is a perfectly straight 45 mile narrow channel,  that has significant tidal currents. So we spent the morning in Hartley Bay to wait for a favorable current. Jean, Lorna and Elaine walked around town, toured the health clinic, and hiked out toward the lake; Monty changed his oil, and Bruce repaired a hole in his inflatable dinghy. In the process of helping Bruce maneuver his dinghy around the dock, Monty managed to fall off the dock into the water. Bruce fished him out with little damage done.

Totem Pole, Hartley Bay, BC

I wandered around town, chatted with a fellow at the fish hatchery and took some photos. The village has about 200 people, and is connected by boardwalks rather than roads. There are a surprising number of miniature little Subarus driving around on the boardwalks. There are no roads to drive any place out of town. When it was time to leave, it began to pour rain. The other boats took off, but we waited around until it died down, taking the time to string up all of Monty’s wet clothing inside our boat. Last year we installed a heater core that taps heat off of our engine cooling system (like your car does). Now, when we are motoring, we can produce huge amounts of heat inside the boat. This is wonderful for comfort, and also makes us the community clothes drier when required. The only down side was that our boat began to smell a lot like Monty’s shoes after a while. We had one significant rain shower along the way, but also some warm sunshine and some cool wind. The scenery was spectacular, as usual.

Grenville Channel, BC

Nettle Basin, Lowe Inlet, BC

We eventually anchored in Nettle Basin at the head of Lowe Inlet. There is a large waterfall pouring into the sea there, and it produces a lot of foam, such as you see at the coast after a winter storm. We spent most of the evening snacking and drinking on the Elliott’s boat, and finally sat down to dinner at 9:30. Of course it wasn’t even close to getting dark yet, and that throws off our timing of the day.

Nettle Basin, Lowe Inlet, BC

Saturday turned out to be partly sunny, and we continued our travels up Grenville Channel. We had the wind and the tidal current against us, so it was slow going. The air was pretty chilly, but we were happy to have no rain. Part way up the channel the current changes direction and flows north out the top of the channel instead of south out the bottom. The theory was to take advantage of this switch, but we were so slow getting there, that the tide had changed, and we now had to go against the tide coming back in against us. At this point the headwind really increased. The sun heats the mountains, and this sucks air up the inlets, so winds tend to increase as the day progresses. We raised the sail and motor sailed back and forth. This is much more comfortable than motoring straight into the wind and waves.

 Entering Watts Narrows, BC

We finally arrived at Baker Inlet, our goal for the night. This is a glacial fjord that is entered through an incredibly narrow little passage. We were two hours late for the slack current, and shot through it with a strong following current, successfully making the 90-degree turn in the middle. We anchored at the head of the inlet in almost 60 feet of water, our deepest anchorage ever.  We looked up at snow covered mountains, with long thin waterfalls cascading down the rocky slopes into the rain forest. The streams produced a small delta at sea level, creating a grassy meadowland along the water. This delta is very shallow and then drops off to very deep. This is why we were anchored in such deep water, even though we were uncomfortably close to shore, especially since there was a strong wind blowing us toward shore. We put down a kellet to help us stay in place, and had everyone over to our boat for dinner.

Baker Inlet, BC

The weather forecast for Sunday had called for strong northwest winds, which would make today a difficult upwind slog. We could not confirm this forecast, as there was no VHF radio reception in this isolated fjord. Using my laptop and a small portable short wave radio, I was able to obtain weatherfax maps, which suggested that yesterday’s forecast was accurate. So, given a choice of going out to battle the wind or stay another day in this spectacular sheltered location, we wisely chose the latter. We made waffles for a leisurely breakfast, did boat chores and went ashore.

There was an old log dump visible from our anchorage, where they had once made up a log boom.

Rover, Baker Inlet, BC

It looked like a great place to go for a walk, as a gravel road curved up into the forest. It is not easy to find places to walk up here. The forest begins at the high tide line, and it is an impenetrable thicket of lush undergrowth. So we rowed over to the log dump to find no good landing place. After a long effort we finally got ashore, and got the dinghy situated in a spot where it would not be battered against the cliffs, or end up high and dry on the rocks as the tide dropped. We made our way up through a patch of wonderful wildflowers, including chocolate lilies, to the gravel road. We then discovered that the road did indeed go around the bend, whereupon it became an impenetrable thicket of alder trees growing in the old road bed. So there was in fact no place to walk. Schooner sniffed around, we collected some firewood, and we returned to the boat for the rest of the day. We had dinner on Freya, where we continued our effort to reduce our supply of meat, vegetables and alcohol that will not pass through US customs.

Baker Inlet, BC

Monday we headed out of Baker Inlet, back to Grenville Channel, but not without some small excitement. Freya’s engine was not pumping any cooling water, and it took nearly an hour for Bruce to discover and remove some sea life clogging the input line.  By then we were late to make the slack water in the narrows to get back out of this inlet, but it didn’t turn out to be much of a problem. Speaking of the narrows, on the way in, we were all focused on not hitting anything, and staying in the center. Later Monty, who is a geologist, asked us if we had all noticed the metamorphic rocks on the walls of the narrows. Well, not really.

The headwind up the narrow channel was much less than two days ago, but still there, and the weather continued dry with some welcome sun. After exiting the channel at last we crossed the outflow of the large Skeena River which provided discolored water, large currents and large floating trees. The only reasonable anchorage was open to the north winds, so we continued on across Chatham Sound to Prince Rupert, making it a long day.

Prince Rupert Docks, BC

Prince Rupert, BC

Prince Rupert, with a population of 12,000, is a major seaport, since it is two days closer to Asia than other North American ports with rail connections. They were loading coal, loading wheat, and unloading containers onto and off of ships and trains. Rather interesting to watch, though we had to be alert to moving tugs and freighters. All quite a change from the wilderness of the last few weeks. We got settled into the docks of the Prince Rupert Rowing and Yacht Club, took some long delayed showers, and went to the pub at the head of the dock for dinner. We also got an internet connection, caught up on email, and now have the opportunity to finally send this missive off (along with the previous one that has been in abeyance).  The plan is to spend a day doing city chores, then take advantage of a weather window and cross Dixon Entrance into Alaska.