North--and South Again... August 18, 2010

Europa Bay, July 31 (Sorry - I just realized I have changed the 'order' of the blog - usually most recent to earlier, this time, earlier to most recent. Can't figure out how to change it without re-entering it all, so please bear with me this time~~)

I wake up early this morning hearing a strange sound; a long drawn-out high-pitched wail. It sounds like one of those whale song albums, but I thought those were recorded underwater. It is repeated a couple of times so I roust myself out of the sack and go up on deck to listen more closely. Standing on the aft deck in my jammies, the single wailing cry is joined by another one, and another. I realize I am listening to a pack of wolves howling up in the valley.

We are anchored at the Europa Hot Springs and are enjoying two-a-day baths. It is an indescribable luxury to have a hot soak in the cool of the morning, with an evening bath to look forward to at the end of a hot, humid day. Some one has left a pool thermometer here, and the water temperature is 105 degrees. Ahhhhh.....

Gardner Canal, August 2-5 One simply runs out of superlatives. Patrick says it's as if Switzerland has been plopped down into the ocean. I find it hopeless to try to capture the grandeur with a camera--the scale of the beauty of this place is far beyond capture by a mere lens, and I despair at trying to select a photo or two that could possibly represent this experience. This long inland Fiord is lined with rugged, steep mountains that fall steeply into the water, a mixture of ocean saltwater and glacier run-off fresh water. In their slow, inexorable movement to the sea, the glaciers all around us grind rock into a powder finer than flour or talc, and it colors the meltwaters, making them appear milky. During these glorious sunny days we seem to float in a sea of opaline turquoise blue. In the pristine air, the mountains that surround us are spectacular. There are waterfalls just everywhere. We have been anchoring in huge, deep bays, finding the little slivers of anchorable space between the tidal flats that dry at low tide and the almost-bottomless bays.

In Chief Matthews Bay we take the dinghy up the river valley that empties in to the bay. It's course twisted and turned around huge pebble dunes built by last spring's floods. We have to dodge dozens of downed trees in the waterway--many that still have leaves or needles on them. They remind us of just how recently the spring-melt floods have ripped up those forest giants by their roots and sent them crashing down the valley. We can see dozens of slide chutes where countless tons of rock and biomass have broken off to slide thousands of feet down the mountainside, carrying everything ahead of them, finally to crash into the bay, leaving long streaks of bare granite and piles of broken rock and twisted, splintered wood at the bottom. I would not want to be in this anchorage in the early spring when meltwaters are running fast!

Another dinghy cruise takes us back out to the entrance of the bay where Patrick has spied a waterfall behind a little spur of mountain. We take the dinghy into the narrow opening - we can hear the crashing water and see the rising mist, but the bottom of the falls is still hidden. Farther and farther into the little nook we poke our little inflatable. The acute corner where the falls end is so tiny that it is only when we are actively getting drenched by the spray off the falls that we finally see where they meet the water. I can almost touched the rock walls on either side of us, and we both laugh to see a pair of harbor seals playing in the turbulent water. It must feel like a Jacuzzi to them!

Cameron Bay, Gil Island, August 13 This morning Patrick takes me ashore at the head of Cameron Bay, the site of an old First Nations reserve. I imagine that this place was a valued resource to them. In an area where shorelines are rocky and steep, a long drying tidal flat like this, especially with a salmon stream, would provide a bounty of food and other materials. Clams whose forebears fed this village are still here. Near the mouth of the creek on the east side I find an ancient rock fish trap, bared at low tide. The line of rocks piled across the river bottom just before it broadens into the bay form a chevron that would have guided salmon into cedar-bark nets and baskets on a dropping tide.
The salmon are beginning to come in here. Pat has seen a group of a dozen or so milling around near the mouth of the west creek. I see two carcasses on the flats farther upstream. A bear has stripped the protein-rich belly meat and roe, and eagles have been tearing away at the rest. I am sorry to interrupt their meal as I approach. They adjourn to a nearby tree to watch me--I'm sure they wonder about my intentions toward that fish! As the eagles and I watch each other, I noticed movement along the rocky shore. A mink hurries over a boulder and into the shadow of a fallen tree trunk. There are far too many bald eagles in the trees here for a mink to remain exposed for very long.

The carnivores are gathered here for sure. The salmon spawn plays a huge part in this ecosystem. The eagles are gathered--I spot more than 20 in the western bay alone. The ravens must be having a convention. I can hear dozens and dozens of them in the forest. They make forays out to the flats in hopes of finding a fish carcass not too closely guarded by the eagles. Their vocalizations are astonishing, ranging from sounds like clicks and knocks to whistles, whoops and something that sounds disconcertingly like a cat meowing.

Bear sign is everywhere. I narrowly avoid a pile near a huge downed cedar log in the woods near the shoreline. It is beside the colossal stump it was cut from and its upper surface is flat and smooth, covered with a thick layer of cushiony moss. At first I think I have found a house post from a big house, but the flat plane only goes about 30 feet down the log. I climb on top of the log to investigate and see the explanation: a plank, inches thick and split by hand from the log lies next to the parent log. It, too, is covered with a heavy layer of moss. More evidence of the ancient culture that once thrived here.

Lowe Inlet, August 15 A last-minute change of plans brings us back north in to Lowe Inlet. On our way up Grenville Channel we watch four humpback whales lunge feeding all around us. They dive down near a school of small fish or krill (always leaving us with a jaunty flip of the flukes), then turn and head back to the surface, mouths wide open to capture their meal. We drift with them and the current, watching their lazy feeding patterns. Pat drops a line over the side, baited for salmon. Soon we hear the buzzing sound of the reel letting out. He has one on the line! Patrick reels it in and I man the net to haul in a fat, beautiful silvery-green coho that weighs about 25 pounds. We enjoy dining on fresh salmon!

We enter Lowe Inlet late in the day and anchor in front of the falls, facing east. An evening dinghy cruise takes us close to the falls at high tide. Rock formations on either side look like perfect hunting platforms for the bears. We drop a small anchor in the pool in front of the falls to hold us in one place to watch all the action. The water around us is alive with salmon, some swimming deep, some milling around with their dorsal fins above the surface, and some doing practice leaps, warming up for the big moment against the falls. A pair of harbor seals cruise the pool silently, hoping to catch a fish off guard. They are joined by an otter, also looking for an easy meal. Waves of salmon suddenly begin thrashing their tails, propelling themselves forward and upward, launching fearlessly into the unknown of the falls. Some make progress, others strike the rocks with a meaty 'thunk' and slither and flip themselves back into the pool for another try. Pat says quietly, "Bear," and like an actor making an entrance from stage right, a large black bear comes out of the wings of the forest and takes the granite stage, lit by the lowering sun. A Greek chorus of bald eagles and ravens perch on nearby branches, twittering and squawking of their hopes the bear will have a successful catch, so they can take their own turns at the carcasses. The little theatrical has a happy ending (for all but the salmon!) The bear carries off his prize. The drama of the food chain continues its long run here in Lowe Inlet.

Our second afternoon at the falls brings us more bears to watch. Each uses different methods, from snatching leaping fish mid-air in their jaws, to pinning them down on the rocks with their huge paws. One little cub makes half a dozen forays to the edge of the rushing falls. He nervously approaches the edge, watching the leaping, thrashing fish for a while before gingerly dipping the tip of his paw in the cold water. Each time he backs away, the look on his face clearly says, "Surely they don't expect ME to do THAT!?" as he trundles back into the forest, only to reappear and approach the falls again moments later. I wonder about the "Stage Mother" bear back there, encouraging his multiple attempts...

Whales, Waterfalls and Natural Wonders -- July 29, 2010

It seems we have decided to continue north despite a great deal of discouragingly wet weather, mostly because we just didn't want to admit defeat just yet. Our de facto choice has certainly paid off this past week!We have been in Fiordland Recreation Area in some of the most beautiful, hot sunny summer weather we have ever experienced on the north coast. We are surrounded by steep, tree-covered mountains punctuated by the bare slashes of huge landslides; granite peaks and huge rock bowls still covered with the last of the winter's snow; with glimpses of glacier-topped peaks farther inland. Waterfalls are a strong possibility around every point of land, and up the many inlets that mark the outflow of snow-melt rivers. Long, vaguely parallel tracks gouged out of living rock meander across the face of naked granite walls, giving mute testimony to the vast power of the glacial ice that carved many of these stunning mountain valleys thousands of years ago. Floating at anchor, the majestic silence imposed by these mountain walls can be shattered by the piping cry of a young eagle practicing flight, or the gutteral bark of a passing sea lion.

Kynock Inlet, Fiordland -- June 25 We ventured in to Kynoch Inlet for the first time, and caught up with our friends Elsie and Steve Hulsizer about their beautiful 44' sailboat Osprey. As we traveled up the inlet they told us about some pictographs they had found on the rock walls. We marked our chart and promised to hunt for them ourselves on the way out. Our destination was Culpepper Lagoon, a tidal inlet that can be most safely entered (and left) at high slack tide, the time that occurs twice each day when the tide is at its highest for the day, and the water level on both sides of the very narrow, shallow entrance to the lagoon is just about equal. We came in when the tide was still rising a bit and got a speed boost as the incoming current lifted us through the narrows. I stood on the bow and watched our hull pass by huge boulders, barely covered with water, that littered the edges of the narrow fairway. The lagoon is a couple of miles long and very deep throughout, so few cruising boats have reason to come in, let alone try to anchor, so we were completely alone as we passed rock near shore, covered with barking, groaning, grumbling harbor seals who watched us suspiciously with their bright, dark eyes.

We dropped anchor in about 80 feet of water and only about 50 feet from shore. A creek tumbled out of the deep forest and dropped a few feet to the rocks below; a little cascade that made a pretty picture our of our aft cabin windows, and lulled us to sleep through the open hatch.

In the morning we pulled up anchor and went back to the lagoon entrance. We needed to time our departure to coincide with high slack again, but we hoped that maybe we could sneak out a little early. We wanted to explore the site of an old cabin, and it was so calm that we were able to leave Tenacious adrift and drop the dinghy to go ashore to see what was left. We found signs of human habitation in the form of foundation logs and some burned timbers, but evidence of bear habitation was much more recent! Deep holes were everywhere - sign that they had been digging up the abundant skunk cabbage plants to get at their roots. Both black bears and grizzlies eat skunk cabbage, and we wondered which species had been where we were standing.

We returned to Tenacious to make the run out of the lagoon but the current was still too strong against us so we waited an hour before our attempt. Success! We were back out in Kynoch Inlet and we headed toward the area where the pictographs were reported. Here is one of the ones we found. Note the tiered dots at left, the human-like figure at the top and the "box" at the bottom. (Sorry about the shadows.) We were surprised to hear a whale blow, but enjoyed watching a humpback move slowly along one of the bare rock walls, scratching himself against the rock. He moved so slowly and seemed so relaxed - he must have really been enjoying himself! Kynoch Falls were lovely, and on this hot day we edged in close enough to feel the cool spray off the falls from where we stood on the bow.

Poison Cove - June 26 Our next anchorage was Poison Cove, named by Captain Vancouver when several of his crew ate mussels infected with a toxic algae and sickened. One died. We decided not to try the mussels... When we reached the head of the bay and saw the dark aquamarine river racing through the fresh green of a grassy meadow that was bordered at the shoreline by mustard-yellow rockweed, I was reminded of the colorful thermal springs in Yellowstone. The sparkling clear tiered colors looked like they came from an artist's paintbox. We scouted around for a good place to drop the anchor. The water was still and clear when Pat called "Let fall!" and pushed the anchor out of its berth. Pat backed Tenacious toward the shore to set the anchor and as the numbers on the depth sounder dropped from 80, I could see the steeply-angled mud bank that dropped from just a few feet near the shore line to hundreds of feet in just a few dozen yards. On our way out, we stopped by beautiful Lizette Falls, where Patrick and Jessica had a photo opportunity.

We headed for Bishop Bay and its popular hot spring for some hot-water soaking. Only those who have been "enjoying" sea showers (using water only very sparingly) can truly appreciate the luxury, the sheer joy of stepping down into a deep rock tub full of steaming fresh water that just bubbled up out of the ground. It's a darn miracle! The only reason I was able to leave there was the knowledge that there are more hot springs out there that we can visit.

We were joined by some Pacific White-sides on our way here in Kitimat, a new destination for us. We will leave here tomorrow and plan to continue exploring new territory in Gardener Canal and the Kitlope.

Hot, sunny days and stunning deep-water anchorages, waterfalls to cool us, hot springs to soothe us, whales to watch, pictographs to discover, all in all its been a pretty good week. More soon!

Ocean Falls and Special Visitors: July 18, 2010

I'm catching up on the blog in fascinating Ocean Falls, a ghost town and favorite spot of ours in recent years. Once a thriving mill town with one of the world's purest water supplies (from Link Lake) and limitless power generated by the dam that gave this place its name, Ocean Falls now has about 35 full-time residents, a handful of deteriorating buildings and houses, and lots of clues as to its past scattered about. I have already gathered several bouquets of wildflowers, and flowers once planted in well-kept gardens that have gone feral. I can fill the boat with their beautiful colors and fragrances just by taking a short walk. I have to watch out for the local deer population though--you can practically stumble over them as they calmly munch on flowers and berry bushes. They are my biggest competition! The berries are especially plentiful this year, and yesterday Patrick and I picked enough huge, ripe salmon berries for him to make a beautiful pair of strudels. We delivered one of them with our boat neighbors across the dock who had given us a sizeable Dungeness crab for dinner.

We have been relaxing after returning our nephews, Nate and Sam, to their parents a couple of weeks ago. Their visit was such a highlight! This will catch you up on the rest of their trip since the last posting: After we left Sullivan Bay we thought a stop at Shawl Bay was in order. Their claim to fame is an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast each morning, and our boys made a pretty good showing there. We will leave the actual number of pancakes consumed per boy private... As we left there we pulled up our prawn trap to find a small octopus inside. Everybody got to hold him and feel the little suckers on his tentacles, then he was carefully set free.

Our next destination was Pierre's at Echo Bay. We wanted to be there July 1 for Canada Day and their famous Prime Rib feed. We came in a day ahead and got settled on the dock, then made our way over the bridge and through woods to Billy Proctor's Museum. Billy was there, and showed us around, talking about some of his treasures and where they had been found. Nikki van Schyndel was there and we played with her dog Cricket. We invited Billy, Nikki and dear friends Lorne and Colleen Shantz over for dessert that night. Patrick made strudel from salmon berries the boys had gathered on their bike ride at Jennis Bay, and I made a key lime pie. It was a lovely evening and a great gathering of friends. Canada Day dawned sunny and beautiful, and with many of the boats decorated in honor of the day, the marina was a festive sight. The prime rib feed was terrific! We always enjoy our visits to Pierre's.

We left Pierre's on July 2 and headed back toward the Johnstone Strait. On our way we spotted a deer swimming! We watched it rather anxiously--the seas were rough and it was a long way to shore, but it got there safely, and we all heaved a sigh of relief. It was quite a sight to see those antlers making their way through the chop.

We spent a night in an unnamed anchorage in the Broughtons. Uncle Pat sent the boys out in the dinghy on their own to do some fishing. They had been practicing their skills with running the motor, controlling the boat and bringing it in to Tenacious for landings, and they did a great job out there! And they caught some more fish, but let them all go. In honor of thier success we named the pretty little nook "Nate and Sam's Anchorage" and posted the new name on our electronic charts. We'll go back there and remember their wonderful visit.

In the morning we left the newly-named anchorage to try to find some whales. Though we were in an area where humpbacks, orcas and other whales are often seen, all we found were some Pacific White-sided Dolphins, so we decided to head over to the Whale Interpretive Center in Telegraph Cove. There we spoke to some of the staff who told us about the huge fin whale skeleton that hangs overhead, and about how the bones of the many marine mammals there are preserved and displayed. We got some pre-lunch ice cream treats and headed back to Tenacious, anchored just outside Telegraph Cove, and returned to our pursuit of the elusive whales.

We had better luck with live whales in the afternoon. After Patrick and Nate did some work with the sextant, the volunteers of StraitWatch, who do research and protection work for marine mammals in this area, stopped by our boat and told us that it was the first day that members of the northern resident pod of orcas had been seen in the area this season. A grandmother orca who had lost her son a few years ago had connected with two young male orcas who had lost their mother recently. The three were traveling together, and we saw them! Soon after, we were joined by a pod of dozens of Pacific White-sides and we enjoyed their frolicking in our bow waves. Sam took this great photo of a group of them! A humpback whale then appeared, blowing, fluking and diving, and the dolphins moved over to join the whale. Finally, the pair of young male orcas, swimming synchronously side by side, proceeded to parade just past the humpie and dolphins, all three species in a single frame. It was a memorable day!

We spent our last night out anchored at Native Anchorage at Village Island. A pair of eagles soared overhead as we dropped the anchor. Our trip back to Port McNeill was a bit rough, but we got back safely and had a day free to drive inland to Port Alice, and some time to visit the First Nations museum and cemetery with its unusual memorial poles at Alert Bay. This one seems to be a man who looks very surprised to find a very colorful life-sized halibut standing behind him. All too soon I had to take Nate and Sam back to Vancouver for their trip home. We are still missing them, their jokes and games of Liar's Dice and Refusal, and being able to share the wonders of this world with them. Dan and Leslie, thank you so much for sharing them with us!!

So - we plan to continue north when we leave Ocean Falls tomorrow. We'll keep you 'posted' when we have more to tell.

Humpbacks at Play and New Swabbies Aboard Tenacious - June 28, 2010

Patrick and I left the home dock near Vancouver on June 1 this year, and made excellent time to the Broughtons. We spent our first night out tied up at Hardy Island at the vacation home of friends, then sped onward to our second night in Forward Harbour - a distance of over 80 miles in one day, only doable because we happened to catch the tides through the series of tidal rapids just right. On 0ur third day out as we transited Johnstone Strait, we spotted a pair of frisky humpback whales, leaping, diving and cavorting not far from Robson Bight. We watched them for over an hour as they dove, fluked, breached, rolled on their backs, clapped their long, narrow pectoral fins back and forth on the water, slapped their tails, and just generally celebrated life. Twice they breached together. Such grace in such huge creatures... and such joy in sharing their play! A 9 minute video on YouTube is here.

A short sail brought us to Pierre's at Echo Bay where we were welcomed by friends old and new. A couple of days relaxing there prepared us for our first trip to Blunden Harbour where we anchored for over a week, exploring and beachcombing. Pat had some great luck crabbing, and we feasted on huge Dungeness crabs so often that we had to laugh when "we caught ourselves say, "Freshly-caught crab AGAIN???"

We headed back to Port McNeill to prepare for the highlight of our summer trip, the visit of our nephews from Kansas, Nate and Sam. I met them at Vancouver Airport and after a stop for lunch and visit to a local museum, we took the BC Ferry from Tsawwassen to Nanaimo, the drove the rest of the way up Vancouver Island to Port McNeill, where Captain Pat met us with a ship-shape boat and hot pizza for a late dinner. After early morning errands and last-minute shopping, the boys helped to cast off and we embarked for Blunden Harbour. Fair winds and smooth seas accompanied us across the Queen Charlotte Strait. The boys each took the helm for a while, and by late afternoon (after a passing shower) the boys and I were on the beach hunting for old trade beads - and they each even had a little luck! Low tide was at 6:30 the next morning, so everybody was rousted out early and the boys had their first crab-hunting lesson from Uncle Pat. They each caught beautiful legal-sized crabs, and we enjoyed them for dinner that night - some of us more than others, but the boys were great about tasting the new food with interest. Steaks remained quite popular, too.

A couple of days at Blunden included some time exploring the old village site, identifying the sites of bighouses from their foundations, and the remains of huge log timbers and house planks over 5 feet wide and thicker than a forearm, all abandoned on the forest floor. We climbed up the slope and found huge old cedar trees, trunks healed around the edges of long ago scars where First Nations people harvested long strips of their inner bark to make clothing, baskets and more.

At our next destination, Jennis Bay, the boys met new friends; Orion and Charlie Marie, children of the marina owners Tom and Allison Allo. As the boys managed the lines and fenders upon landing, were greeted with an invitation to join a pot luck dinner of Allison's freshly caught ling cod fish and chips. Nate and I made fudge to contribute, and we provided potatoes for the chips. Potlucks are a tradition up here; each boat contributing what they can. The serendipity of dishes and flavors is always great fun. The boys explored the area, taking mountain bikes and a picnic lunch up the 4-mile trail to Huaskin Lake, and spent the afternoon kayaking around all of the little bays and islets around Jennis Bay with Orion. They brought us a bounty of freshly-picked salmon berries, Our second day at Jennis closed with a guitar sing-along around a campfire, complete with s'mores.

We were sorry to leave, but a geocache stashed far up Drury Inlet called so we went on the hunt. Unfortunately we weren't successful finding the cache, but no one else has been either, so we think it might have been muggled. The boys went fishing in the afternoon and caught several red sea cucumbers - ugly, slimy-looking things. Needless to say - not keepers!

After overnighting at Sullivan Bay and enjoying great burgers in their restaurant, we moved on to an afternoon anchorage where the fellows did some more fishing. This time Nate had some luck, pulling up three rockfish, including a really large, really ugly bullhead. Again, no keepers, but we seem to be moving toward the right species! More later...