South with the Bears and Whales and a Very Tasty Halibut

August 21, 2015: Our Swimming Bear

I think the pictures tell the story here ... except for the part about our surprise and wonder! We have never seen a swimming bear in these waters. Today we are treated to the sight of a Kermode bear swimming from one island to another, right next to our anchorage.

When I first see the bear it is already in the water swimming.

It reaches the point of the islet behind which we are anchored and climbs out of the water.

With it's huge paws, it pads purposefully across the rockweed. This isn't the bear we saw last year...

We watch it's progress carefully to see if its a male or female. Inconclusive ...



Our beautiful bear stops for a sniff and a pose before continuing on up into the woods.

August 19, 2015: Wild Birds, Wild Beaches and Patrick’s First Halibut

We’ve wanted to come back to the Estevan Group of islands since our first visit several years ago. It is a wild part of the coast, pristine and seldom visited by cruisers. This time, with strong weather in the forecast, we choose the south end of the archipelago for its compelling combination of a protected anchorage, nearby wild “west coast” beaches and a reputation for great fishing. 

We've tugged on the anchor to ensure a good set, shut down the engine and are enjoying cocktails on the taffrail when we notice a big osprey making huge, lazy circles in the sky above our mast. It lands on the tip of a nearby dead tree to surveys its domain and pose for pictures before resuming its restless circling. A gaggle of gossiping Canada honkers graze on grass and wrack nearby. The prehistoric-sounding cries of sandhill cranes can be heard; we don’t see them but the sound reminds us of home. The sky glows with sunset colors. Red sky at night ...

 

We enjoy a quiet night and awake to sunny skies. My first thought: “Beachcombing!” Patrick’s first thought: “Fishing!” It is almost low tide. Patrick drops me off at a beach that looks like it has potential. My goal: more glass fishing floats to join the ones I found last year. They happily float around in our swimming pool, a much less stressful environment than the wild Pacific Ocean or, worse yet, the reefs and rocks of this merciless coast.

 

Watching for underwater boulders that could damage the inflatable’s propeller, we gingerly approach shore. I sit balanced on the bow, riding the waves with boots sticking out ahead to feel for the bottom. The first couple of steps are always the worst. Awash in the swell, the rocks are covered with treacherously slippery seaweed and algae. The moment when I transfer my weight from the boat to the rocks is the hardest. That’s when I have the greatest chance of slipping—and soaking myself. This time it’s a success. I hop from boulder to boulder on the way to the messy bulwark of gigantic drift logs near the high tide line where flotsam and jetsam get tangled and caught. Hopefully a target-rich environment.

I find a battered orange laundry basket with Kanji characters, then use a stick to turn over a weathered shoe. It’s a Nike. Is it from the famous “lost container” that years ago fell off a cargo ship and deposited many thousands of athletic shoes all along this coast?

Then I find something wonderful. It’s the dining table of a coast-dwelling creature, perhaps an otter. I have found them before, always on a big, stable log near the very top of the beach, one that has been there a long time. Sometimes I’ll find little piles of bleached-white, butterfly-shaped chiton plates, or the lavender-colored shards and spines of a sea urchin. Here, I find a scattering of gleaming iridescent abalone shells, perfectly clean, turned up and shining in the sunlight. Somebody has had quite a few abalone feasts here! I crawl, climb, slip, slide and scoot my way around and over the logs, thinking about all of the happy gym-class hours I spent on the balance beam. This is sort of like that except these logs are uneven, tilted, often tippy, and I’m wearing clumsy gumboots.  A bright colorful spot catches my eye. Nestled cozily on a log is a vivid orange flower (artificial.) How did that get here?? Where did it come from?

 

No glass floats this time, but it’s time to head back to Tenacious. I find a good spot to

rendezvous with Patrick and the inflatable: big flat rocks with a sandy patch in front for an easy approach. I shift my balance and half-topple into the dinghy, giving a final shove with a booted foot to send us out into the channel. A surprise awaits me on the floor of the dinghy. There, still flopping half-heartedly, is a beautiful small halibut – Patrick’s first! It’s the perfect size for us, since we don’t have much freezer space and nobody to share it with out here. We will feast tonight and still have several meals to look forward to. Hurray for halibut! Hurray for the halibut catcher!

August 16, 2015: That’s Close Enough, Mr. Whale

Traveling south in Estevan Sound I notice a whale ahead, rolling and splashing with its pectoral fins. We adjust our course so as not to come too close while we watch its antics. We have seen this behavior before and wondered about it. Is the whale stunning food fish with its slapping fins? It is using its fins to scoop fish toward its mouth? Or is it just horsing around and having a helluva good time on a nice day? Hmmm. More study required.

Patrick shifts into neutral and we slow to a drift, watching and wondering as the whale splashes and rolls. Finally, it dives, leaving us with a pretty wave of its massive flukes. A minute passes. We’re thinking  our private whale show is over when we hear a blow off our stern. The whale is back and clearly moving toward us. 

There is nothing we can do -- we are adrift. The whale will be in control of this encounter. He surfaces again, this time within a few yards of our port quarter, moving parallel to our hull. This whale is BIG. And it is very CLOSE! He sinks down I notice a line of large bubbles forming alongside. It looks like something is boiling down below. The whale turns right and swims underneath our keel. Crossing to the 

starboard side we watch for the whale to surface. He blows right next to Patrick where he stands on the companionway next to the cockpit. Jake and Simon are watching from inside, eyes huge and ears pricked at the explosive sound of the whale’s blow. It stays near the surface and passes behind our stern just under our davit-hung inflatable (yikes!) and continues to circle back to our port side, once again blowing bubbles. For a second I think, “It’s bubble-netting Tenacious!” but realize that it is probably bubble-netting and feeding upon a school of fish that are ‘hiding’ in Tenacious’s shadow. Another circle and the whale leaves us with a farewell flourish of its flukes. We do love our visits with whales, but that was close enough!