Today we celebrate 20 years! As we reminisce this morning, neither of us can believe 20 years have passed since our wedding day. The memories 
of that day remain so fresh in our minds. We were surrounded by so many of the people we love that day, and tonight we are lucky enough to be anchored with dear friends who have invited us for a celebration dinner on board their boat. This morning we awoke in Nimmo Bay to see a mama black bear and her two young cubs beachcombing nearby - a special gift! It is truly a happy day for us. (That is Jessie the Cat in the photo instead of me. She was complaining that she wasn't getting any visibility ...)
of that day remain so fresh in our minds. We were surrounded by so many of the people we love that day, and tonight we are lucky enough to be anchored with dear friends who have invited us for a celebration dinner on board their boat. This morning we awoke in Nimmo Bay to see a mama black bear and her two young cubs beachcombing nearby - a special gift! It is truly a happy day for us. (That is Jessie the Cat in the photo instead of me. She was complaining that she wasn't getting any visibility ...)What a Drag ... Bottleneck Inlet, August 24
We pull up the anchor at Lowe Inlet at 6:48am today with the full knowledge that it will be a long day. Our destination is Bottleneck Inlet, a good 12-hour run south. As we log our lat/long and weather conditions every hour, the only variation seems to be whether the sheets of rain are just relentlessly falling, or actually lashing the decks. We are grateful to pull in to Bottleneck Inlet. As its name implies, the entrance is through a narrow channel. It widens a bit, flanked on both sides by steep, tree-covered mountains. As you go farther in until it shoals off into a long tidal mudflat at the head. At 6:20 in the evening we drop the anchor in soft mud between a large power boat and a smaller sailboat, and take a brief dinghy tour of the inlet. We dine sumptuously on Patrick's home-made pizza and turn in.
All is calm, all is bright -- until about 1:30 in the morning when suddenly, a roaring wind awakens Patrick. He turns on the instruments; the anemometer reports over 30 knots blowing straight down the mountainsides and slamming into our decks. In the pitch dark we can see the anchor lights of our two boat neighbors. They are getting closer. Our anchor is dragging.
Patrick starts the engine and we dress in foul weather gear in record time. Because the mountains are so steep (and probably because we are in a rush) the GPS is taking forever to get a satellite signal, and then the display screen in the cockpit won't start. Even with our spreader lights on we can't see enough of the geography of the inlet to safely move the boat and get her re-anchored. From the bow, I can just see the outline of the mouth of the inlet and even though we still don't have electronics, I point out the way for Patrick to steer us when we get too close to the power boat for comfort. Finally the GPS acquires signal and we can "see" where we are well enough to safely re-anchor. By the time we shut down the boat, the strange "willawa" winds have dropped as quickly as they came up. I get very little sleep for the rest of the night.
Bears Will Be Bears ... Lowe Inlet, August _
From our anchor position directly in front of the falls I can sit, warm and dry in the cockpit and watch to see if any bears are fishing. In between the raindrops I notice a large black bear casually making his way to what we have deduced is the prime fishing spot near the base of falls 
at high tide. It has a ledge where he can secure his hindquarters, leaving paws and jaws free for fishing, and the water seems to flow in such a way that the salmon are drawn to jump there. From our up-close dinghy observations it is clearly the place where the largest number of salmon hurl themselves upward into the falls.
at high tide. It has a ledge where he can secure his hindquarters, leaving paws and jaws free for fishing, and the water seems to flow in such a way that the salmon are drawn to jump there. From our up-close dinghy observations it is clearly the place where the largest number of salmon hurl themselves upward into the falls. Our bear positions itself and in less than 30 seconds has secured a fish in his mouth and trapped another against the rocks with a paw. Juggling two fish while climbing up the bank proves beyond him and he ends up losing them both. He persists and almost immediately catches another fine salmon. He carries it in his mouth to what we call 'the platform' and lies down, totally relaxed and holding the fat fish in his forepaws. He begins to tear off chunks of red flesh with his huge incisors. I try to ignore the fact that the fish's tail is still flapping ... This Nature, red in tooth and claw. He catches several more salmon, eating just the fat-rich bellies and roe sacs, leaving the rest on the ground for other scavengers, and finally leaves the stage.
Moments later a smaller bear appears. Constantly looking
over his shoulder, he makes his way to the bottom of the falls and takes up his position in the prime fishing spot. He is clearly not as experienced as the larger bears and is taking much longer to catch a fish. Suddenly a big adult bear appears at the top of the falls. He sees the young bear in the best fishing place and rushes toward it. The smaller bear, deafened by the roar of the falls in full spate, doesn't hear his larger cousin coming and is utterly surprised when he feels teeth on the back of his neck. The big bear gives 
him a shake by the scruff of the neck and challenges the smaller bear for the fishing position. The small bear is in a quandary: he wants to fish, and he wants to defend himself, but he knows the larger bear will win in the long run. He's got an attitude though! He flattens himself belly down on the sloped rock and bares his teeth, paws reaching up to slap the big bear looming over him. They scuffle. 
They jockey for position. We can literally see the bears reaching a sort of detente. The big bear scoots over a little to one side. The small bear sees his opening and scampers, tail tucked, up the shortest route back into the forest and safety. Now I know why he kept looking over his shoulder! Mr. Big Bear calmly moves into fishing position and promptly snatches a fish from the falls. He, too, retires into the forest to dine. Meanwhile, outside in Grenville Channel, Captain Patrick catches a nice coho for us!
over his shoulder, he makes his way to the bottom of the falls and takes up his position in the prime fishing spot. He is clearly not as experienced as the larger bears and is taking much longer to catch a fish. Suddenly a big adult bear appears at the top of the falls. He sees the young bear in the best fishing place and rushes toward it. The smaller bear, deafened by the roar of the falls in full spate, doesn't hear his larger cousin coming and is utterly surprised when he feels teeth on the back of his neck. The big bear gives 
him a shake by the scruff of the neck and challenges the smaller bear for the fishing position. The small bear is in a quandary: he wants to fish, and he wants to defend himself, but he knows the larger bear will win in the long run. He's got an attitude though! He flattens himself belly down on the sloped rock and bares his teeth, paws reaching up to slap the big bear looming over him. They scuffle. 
They jockey for position. We can literally see the bears reaching a sort of detente. The big bear scoots over a little to one side. The small bear sees his opening and scampers, tail tucked, up the shortest route back into the forest and safety. Now I know why he kept looking over his shoulder! Mr. Big Bear calmly moves into fishing position and promptly snatches a fish from the falls. He, too, retires into the forest to dine. Meanwhile, outside in Grenville Channel, Captain Patrick catches a nice coho for us!Starry, Starry Nights, Chief Matthews Bay, August 9
We have been enjoying glorious sunny days and the stunning solitude of Chief Matthews Bay in the Great Bear Rain Forest. The scale of this place beggars description. Tenacious, anchored 
bravely in the northwest corner of the bay, looks like a bathtub toy. Sheer granite peaks rise thousands of feet, almost perpendicular to the water. We watch the depth sounder as Patrick noses our bow into the spray of yet another roaring, pulsing waterfall (there are dozens of them here.) Just a few feet from the rock wall we register no depth. It is so deep our sounder gets no reading. We haven't seen another boat in days. Snowfields extend down to the waterline in places. Wearing my sea boots, I 'skied' at sea level in BC in late August! A long, lazy dinghy tour of the waterfalls takes us outside the mouth of the bay to our "secret waterfall" hidden behind a spur of the mountain. 
Getting close to the base of the falls takes some courage as the volume and roaring of water splashing down into the narrow channel (only a few dinghy widths near the base of the falls) makes me feel a little claustrophobic, but the pidgeon guillemots have no fear. Here's one who caught a fish. With their sleek haute-couture black feathers, red mouths and red feet they remind me of supermodels wearing Christian Laboutin shoes!
bravely in the northwest corner of the bay, looks like a bathtub toy. Sheer granite peaks rise thousands of feet, almost perpendicular to the water. We watch the depth sounder as Patrick noses our bow into the spray of yet another roaring, pulsing waterfall (there are dozens of them here.) Just a few feet from the rock wall we register no depth. It is so deep our sounder gets no reading. We haven't seen another boat in days. Snowfields extend down to the waterline in places. Wearing my sea boots, I 'skied' at sea level in BC in late August! A long, lazy dinghy tour of the waterfalls takes us outside the mouth of the bay to our "secret waterfall" hidden behind a spur of the mountain. 
Getting close to the base of the falls takes some courage as the volume and roaring of water splashing down into the narrow channel (only a few dinghy widths near the base of the falls) makes me feel a little claustrophobic, but the pidgeon guillemots have no fear. Here's one who caught a fish. With their sleek haute-couture black feathers, red mouths and red feet they remind me of supermodels wearing Christian Laboutin shoes! It is almost 2am. The sky is so clear and the air so still that we wrap up in blankets against the dew and lie on the deck to gaze at a trillion stars. Satellites cross the sky in every direction. We count shooting stars (we never remember to look up exactly when the Perseid meteor showers are) and manage to spot at least a half dozen, two of which have huge tails almost like comets. We are eventually driven back inside by the chill. It feels good to crawl back in between the warm flannel sheets again.
A Seal's Gotta Eat Europa Bay Hot Springs, August 6
Big smiles break out all over the place as we pull in to Europa Bay, home of our favorite hot spring on the coast. We are finally enjoying day after day of warm, sunny weather and we have the bay all to ourselves. No need to be overly fastidious about
the wearing of bathing suits in the hot springs. We scrub and soak, soak and scrub at least once a day. In the evening, we sit on the fantail and watch the salmon jumping in the bay, warming up for their imminent upstream heroics. The local harbor seals and otters are watching, too. I caught this one enjoying a little tail ... Mysterious Khutze Inlet, August 4 
After weeks of cold and rain, I am perhaps somewhat understandably enthralled with sunshine. I keep taking pictures of sunshine ... This morning the low clouds sinuously entwine themselves in and out of the valleys like long-bodied white Angora cats around the mountains' ankles. The waterfall is beautiful. A pair of humpback whales come to visit. A chorus line of harbor seals line up on a floating log, arguing and grumping, bumping and jockeying for their space in the sun. It is a spectacular morning.
This is our 6th day here; we are waiting out a series of storms here at this friendly dock. Today I use the hose at the fish cleaning station to swamp out Jessie's kitty litter box. Kneeling at the edge of the dock, I fill the empty box with water from the hose, scrub the bottom and dump the water into the chuck, when a sudden movement catches my eye. A harbor seal pops up right next to me, startling me a bit, looking at me with a world of hope and curiosity. I say hello to him, as I realize my splashing near the fish-cleaning area has led him to believe I have some nice, fresh fish offal for him. I inform him that, sadly, I don't have any tasty bits for him. He cocks his head and gives me a reproachful look. Surely no human could disappoint such a face! But I assure him that in fact I have no fish guts on my person, or I would surely share them with such a handsome seal. He coughs with disgust and shoves the water with a front flipper, splashing me, and disappears beneath the surface of the water just as suddenly as he appeared moments ago. Next time, I'll bring something for him! (This little blonde seal was relaxing on the log breakwater when we went out on a dinghy cruise last evening ...)
