And The Animals Came On Two By Two
Jan and Jim Evans come aboard in Prince Rupert. We have known each other since our Boston days in the 70’s. We have skied Telluride, Alta and Val D’Isere with them, sailed the Adriatic with them, and now they join us onboard Avante in British Columbia. They arrive in rain, but they tell us that they are wearing their Jade Sunny Weather charms. They work! The sun breaks out in the afternoon. Our spirits lift. Prince Rupert even takes on a certain charm. We have a last dinner in a fine restaurant overlooking the harbor. The setting sun is in our eyes. It’s so bright and so warm. “Pinch me,” exclaims The First Mate. “This must be a dream!”
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While the guys attend to details above decks, the gals work at sorting and storing food for the next leg of the trip.
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Tuesday, July 24th – Cleaned, re-provisioned and fueled, we head out of Prince Rupert. The day is overcast with little wind. In the afternoon, the wind picks up, and The Captain declares that it is time to raise the sails. We had not had an opportunity to raise the mainsail since the last backbreaking attempt with Nelson, but The Captain had been thinking about how to go about it. With an improvised system of pulleys and winches, the mainsail is slowly raised. The whole setup looks quite ingenious. Though not very pretty and protesting menacingly with creaks and groans, it works. The mainsail goes up. The Captain is pleased, and The First Mate and Crew are impressed. The cabin-top electric winch is not fixed, but we can work around the problem.
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What a pleasure it is to be sailing, to listen to the wind and water rather than the sound of the engine.
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Although we traveled between Port Hardy and Prince Rupert on our way north, we are taking a different path between the many islands heading south. The First Mate, in her brand new role of daily route planner, has found an anchorage called Crab Trap Bay. How could she pass this one up? Why would it be named Crab Trap Bay if there were not crabs there? We anchor, drop our trap and cross our fingers.
Wednesday, July 25th – In the morning, all attention is focused on the generator when it rumbles to a stop. As previously mentioned, on a sailboat, one problem gets fixed only to have another take its place! Some quick trouble shooting on the generator is done, and it appears to be overheating, most probably due to a failed raw water pump impeller. Do we have a spare? Yes! But we do not want to take the time right now. Fixing the generator can wait until we anchor for the night. To add some joy to our day, when the crab trap is pulled, 3 beautiful full-sized, male crabs are our reward. Wow! Crab Trap Bay it certainly is!
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In accordance with The First Mate’s plan, we stop for a lunch of crab and salad in a secluded little spot called Port Canaveral. Sitting in the sun and enjoying its warmth is wonderful. What we did not know was that this was the last sun we would see for days. So much for sun-bringing good luck charms. Well, the two days we had is better than none.
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After our lunch, we continue on to our selected anchoring spot for the night. Moncton Inlet is still some distance away, and we are not anchored until 2045. It’s a very late stop, and we still have maintenance work to do and dinner to prepare. The Captain reminds The First Mate that Distance Traveled is directly related to our Speed and Time Underway. Long leisurely lunch stops add to Time Required to make Distance Traveled. If the distance between selected anchorages is lengthy, like today’s 58nm, then we need to plan on motoring for about 9 hours. And that is the lesson learned on The First Mate’s debut as the daily route planner! How could it have taken so long? It just did not look all that far on the chart. It was a beautiful day; just way too long. Oh, dear…..
Before dinner can be thought of, the generator needs to be fixed. The port aft cabin is emptied of all the items stored in it, and The Captain wedges and squeezes his arms into the generator compartment. With Jim’s assistance, he soon gets the impeller replaced. We all hold our breath as he fires it off. It works. We are back in business! Dinner is very late that night, but it is eaten with tired satisfaction and the knowledge that, with the generator back on line, we will have electricity for heat in the morning and hot water for showers tomorrow night. Again, it is the little things that are important on boats!
With 7 and 1/2 days to cover almost 350nm, we need to average 45 miles per day on this leg of the trip. However, things are not that simple. We have one big timing issue, and that is the return crossing of Queen Charlotte Sound – The First Mate’s nemesis on our trip north. Remembering her day of seasickness on that crossing, she is not eager for a repeat. We need to cross it on a somewhat benign day or at least a day without gale winds. This sound is just north of Port Hardy, where Jan and Jim have made arrangements to leave us and begin some land travel. In order to allow a day or two in case we have to wait for decent weather, The Captain wants to get south fairly quickly. He would like to get safely across that potentially treacherous sound and then use any extra days to cruise around islands on the Port Hardy side of Queen Charlotte’s Sound. Thus, we are under a time dictate to “keep on truck’n”. Does that help explain why The First Mate’s start as daily route planner ran into problems?
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There are several fronts all slowly moving around out there, and it is just a matter of time before we get hit with bad weather. In the meantime, however, the building cloud cover is a show in itself.
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Thursday, July 26th – Not a bad day. We covered over 50nm and even stopped for lunch. A much quicker stop this time. In the evening, with limited visibility, we threaded our way into Helmcken Inlet. The entry into the bay is very narrow with twists and turns, and the steep walls and overhanging foliage make it feel even narrower. The First Mate, at the helm, can see little ahead and is relying more on the compass and the chart in front of her at the wheel. She is told to steer down the center of the passage, which she does believe she is doing according to her trusty instruments. Looking ahead is not helping, for all she can see are the closed-in steep walls and the backs of several masculine heads. The desire to peer ahead down the center line is strong, but at the helm, The First Mate needs to do so more than anyone. Telling them that “they make a better door than a window” works for a while, but they also want to see ahead. That desire soon takes over again, restricting the forward visibility of the helmsman. She is relieved when we finally get through the narrow passage into the broad bay.
Once inside, we find ourselves alone in a secluded lagoon. It is beautiful, lonely and peaceful. We go to sleep with the sound of a nearby waterfall
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Friday, July 27th – The next morning is misty with fog, but the encompassing, silent mist just adds to the special aloneness of the area. What a rare and wonderful place we have found!
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The Captain takes the helm on the way back out the passage, so The First Mate can enjoy the view and take photos. We are so near the walls on either side that it feel like we can almost touch them.
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That afternoon, the wind picked up, and we were able to log several hours of sailing. We caught a very nice salmon, and we saw lots of porpoises and a whale before anchoring for the night in Kynumpt Harbor. It was a great day!
Saturday, July 28th – We crossed our northbound track again as we motored toward Green Island Anchorage, and we also encountered our worst weather with constant, often heavy, rains and high winds. Those storm fronts have caught up with us. At one point we motored directly into 20 knots of wind. The Captain and The First Mate spent a good deal of the cold, miserable day on deck.
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This apparition is The First Mate bundled in 3 layers of fleece plus waterproof gorilla gloves and with face wrapped so that only the eyes show. What cannot be seen is the torrents of rain plastering the boat. She wonders whether some day she will be able to laugh at all this.
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It is only drizzling as we anchor, which after the heavy rains feels almost like sunshine – at least for the soul! Once again, Green Island Anchorage is a haven for The First Mate. Though she does not care to recall her seasickness crossing Queen Charlotte Sound on the way north, it was in this very anchorage that we sheltered at the end of that day. It still is just as pretty and welcoming. Only now with the summer cruising season well advanced, we are seeing a lot more boats out here. How spoiled we quickly become! However, cruising folk, for the most part, seek to honor each other’s desire for quiet and peace. Looking away from the other boats, we can still easily feel and imagine we are alone.
Jan brings to our attention an article she had just read in one of our books about a couple sitting out a bout of rainy weather on their boat somewhere up here in this country. The husband awoke one morning, and, after so many days of waiting for the rain to stop, looked out and saw the bears, eagles, fox, deer and other sundry critters all lined up 2 by 2 preparing to board his boat. Deciding that waiting out the weather was getting to his head, they left in the rain that day. Well, we don’t yet see those animal pairs waiting to board our Ark, but we would certainly have a good excuse if we did.
Sunday, July 29th – The rain may be depressing, but winds look good for crossing Queen Charlotte Sound. We are in luck and will not have to sit here waiting for the weather to improve. The Captain declares that an early departure is in order, since we have a good distance to cover, and Jim offers to assist with the early start. The first thing The First Mate does upon wake up is to fortify herself with her seasickness cocktail of 2 Bonine and a NoDoze.
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We get underway by 0630. Skies are grey, but the rain holds off. As we motor out of our anchorage, we see two good omens – an eagle and a rainbow. Our luck continues when we catch a salmon, our second one in three days.
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Before noon, we are abeam Cape Caution, about halfway across Queen Charlotte Sound. Weather is overcast with occasional light rain showers. Wind is 15 – 18 knots from southeast, and we are sailing nicely. The First Mate, with her seasick cocktail working, is even able to enjoy this crossing.
In the early afternoon, The Captain discovers that the water maker, which had been running for several hours, has not been putting out water and filling our tanks. He troubleshoots it as much as he can while we are underway, but he cannot determine what the problem is. We should have enough water remaining in our tanks for the next 2 days before going over to Port Hardy to drop Jan and Jim, but that means promised showers are out. The crew protests, and The Captain reluctantly turns toward Port Hardy to get water. We fill the water tanks and, while we’re at the fuel dock, the fuel ones too. By now it’s 1800, and The Captain inquires about staying in Port Hardy for the night, but there is no space for us in the marina. None of us wants to stay at the really sad-looking commercial dock. With no good nearby spots, we depart and motor back for over two hours to Blunden Harbor, the anchorage where we had initially planned to spend the night. Since the detour to Port Hardy is making for another late evening, The First Mate suggests that we put the time to good use and get everyone showered on the way. It’s 2015 before we arrive in Blunden Harbor after a long day in which we covered 84nm. After a successful day, we sit down to our very late dinner. The best news about the day is that the First Mate made it across Queen Charlotte Sound without incident, but then with the sails up, the boat wasn’t rolling around as much as we had on the previous crossing. No matter – she jubilantly now feels she can take on all Seven Seas! (maybe)
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Monday, July 30th – Wouldn’t you know, we wake up to sun on our last full day. The Captain has proclaimed that we are staying anchored for the day here in Blunden Harbor. Having survived the flood, we endeavor to convert our Ark back into Avante. We open up hatches to dry out the place, and we make the boat look like a floating Chinese Laundry. We all revel in soaking up sun. A week of rain is no fun!
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The men work on fixing the water maker. It is determined that the feed water pump is the culprit, but we don’t have a spare. We will not be able to easily get the pump repaired or replaced until we get to the Victoria area. Fortunately, we can easily finish the remaining leg of our trip using only water from our tanks.
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With wet stuff drying and Avante airing out, we head ashore to explore while the sun is still shining. We launch The Dingbat, and motor into Bradley Lagoon. We pull ashore and hike in a heavy, mossy rainforest which is surprisingly dry after all the rain. That moss really soaks it up and pulls it down deep. It’s fun walking in the woods on the thick, cushion-like ground cover.
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Back in The Dingbat, we see a stretch of water ahead of us that looks ready to be explored, but tidal rapids are blocking the way. The Captain studies them and decides that the current is not so strong that we can’t get through them in The Dingbat– so off we go.
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Once through the rapids, we are surprised with how expansive the waterway is as it opens up before us. We travel in about 3 miles, determined to find the very beginning of this arm of water. Finally, it ends in a tidal pool. Everything around us feels primeval. Has it ever been touched by man? We feel like true explorers.
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The only sound we hear is water rippling down, but with the heavy forest growth, it’s hard to determine exactly where it’s coming from. We wonder just how often people venture down here, for it truly is one of those “million miles from anywhere” spots.
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Despite days of rain and grey overcast, our moods were lifted by the catching of Salmon. They obviously are unaffected by the weather, or maybe because of it, our flashers, spoons and hooks looked tempting. We caught 2 nice ones on this leg, and after our final warm and sun-filled day of relaxing and exploring, we sit down to our fourth night of fresh salmon. The menu for our first fresh salmon dinner was panko-crusted salmon sautéed in olive oil accompanied with homemade aioli sauce. That proved to be such a hit that no one wanted to try another method of preparation. Four nights in a row! All that changed was the veggies and the anchorage. Hey, if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it!
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Tuesday, July 31st – Another sunny day! Two in a row! That’s a record for the last 3 weeks. We motor back across to Port Hardy hoping to be able to obtain dock space in the marina, but they are still full. There is room for us for short stay on the public dock.
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Heading ashore, we do a quick re-provisioning, and then say good-bye to Jan and Jim. How we wish we could have conjured up better weather for their time with us, but Mother Nature just did not cooperate. However, she did yield up to us some wild and rugged scenery, come crabs, and a few delicious Salmon. Overall, friends being friends, we had a grand time with them aboard Avante.