Windwalker's Chronicles

2007-10-04T07:05:00.000-07:00

You probably thought that we sank. As I post this, we have been home for some time. There are reasons/excuses for the blog-lapse, but they all sound like whining. If you still remember who we are, Windwalker would be happy to share her tale. Following the Final Installment is Chronicle X, which lingered inside our computer much longer than intended...

Final Installment a.k.a. Chronicle XI

We headed east from Canoe Cove, searching for that dotted line north of San Juan Island that meant we are back in the great U. S. of A. The US islands and water looked remarkably similar to the Canadian islands and water, but Windwalker and her crew knew that the adventure was almost over. But it was a picture-perfect September day and we were headed for Friday Harbor (on a Friday! I always like that.) It was hardly a time for regrets.

In Friday Harbor, Lynn and Rick, former Eagle Harbor live-aboard neighbors who now live in Olympia, were rafted up next to the boat in front of us. More stories. The next night, Joe and Erlene took the ferry over to meet us for dinner in Pt. Townsend; Vern and Julie greeted at our slip in Liberty Bay with a catered dinner and wine. If you have to come home, that is the way to do it!

Arriving at our homeport on the evening of September 16th, I wanted to call out to people on their boats, WE WENT TO ALASKA!!! I resisted the urge, but I did detect a swagger from Windwalker. I’m sure it was not lost on the other boats.

REFLECTIONS

What place did we like the best? We don’t have an answer. When we left, we knew we were Headed North. Other than that, our plans were open. We had charts to take us to Sitka, Glacier Bay, and Skagway, as well as many of the other places people want to see when they go to Alaska. Now, you may be thinking that you missed a Chronicle or two because you haven’t read about our visits to those places. No. We didn’t get there. We went to very few of the places people see when they go to Alaska.

Then why did we have such a good time??? The scenery, the history of the areas, the people we met, and the challenges of navigating a small boat in a large area, combined to give us an experience unlike anything we had expected. Since we didn’t have specific goals, each encounter was treated as though it was our reason for untying from the dock last May. (This was somewhat of a challenge on the few occasions when we (I) felt that we were in danger.)

So, there was no one place that we liked the best. We laugh when we try to name our favorites: Foggy Bay. Meyers Chuck. Petersburg. Oh, but remember that bay where we anchored with Allegra. Wrangle. Buccaneer Bay. And don’t forget Green Island Anchorage. Namu. The Broughtons. The hot springs. The list goes on.

We DO know what made the trip wonderfully special. It was the people we met: the fishermen, the shopkeepers, the yachties, the marina owners, the townspeople. We didn’t expect that. We thought we were going to see the scenery.

We’re making plans for next year. Hopefully, we’ll maintain our 2007 frame of mind: We’re headed North!

Thanks for sharing our dream! Jean, Doug, and Windwalker

Chronicle X (posted with Final Installment..)
August 26, 2007…

We woke up to RAIN at anchor in Blunden Harbor and went back to sleep. Since we were only going about fifteen miles that day, we weren’t in any hurry to don our raingear and stand in the cockpit. By the time we got underway, the sun was shining, we had cell phone reception (for two hours), and we were headed into the Broughton Archipelago to revisit some of the marinas we had first seen in 2001.

The Broughtons (the name everyone uses for this area) have a number of good anchorages, and a handful of marinas, each with its distinguishing characteristics.
The questions on the docks always start with: Where did you come from today? and, since it is August, How far north did you go? Earlier in the year it was How far north are you planning to go? then, Where are you heading from here? and How long have you been out? There is no doubt as to what we have in common.

Our first stop was Sullivan Bay, a series of float homes with a store, fuel dock and post office. We were at the end of the season, so the store had the look of your corner store in North Korea. Still, we managed to spend a fair amount of money on dollar-each-bananas and other goodies. We want these places to be in business when we return, so we buy their expensive float-plane-delivered goods. The young couple running the store and fuel dock at Sullivan Bay were employees who said they would not be back next year. The marina is the process of being sold and apparently things were not going smoothly.

Some of the float homes are now owned by Americans; we saw huge boats from Seattle tied up in front o the float homes, and a helicopter on one roof. The colorful wooden cabins on the floats are slowly being replaced with vinyl-sided modern structures with windows that do not leak. Apparently no one cares that the community is not nearly as picturesque as it was six years ago. Where is their sense of history?

Windwalker made the two-hour trip to Greenway Sound Marina the next day. She is curious about this abrupt change in length of daily cruises, but doesn’t seem to mind having all six mooring lines and fenders on deck all of the time. Sometimes we even haul out the shore power cord.

Greenway Sound Marina has been for sale since before we visited in 2001. How do you get rid of a business that is only open four months a year and requires constant upkeep in a harsh climate where transportation costs are horrific? An additional perk is the seven-day-a- week job dealing with the public all hours of the day and night. Hey, who wouldn’t jump at the chance? Tom Taylor and his wife are not in good health, so if you’d like a change of scenery, they’d love to hear from you. We did not make an offer.

At dusk, Tom came down the dock and suggested that two big Grand Banks motor yachts move to the other side of U-shaped marina because a “big blow” was predicted. We were across from another sailboat way out on the end. No one suggested that we move. What are we, dog meat??? The configuration of the marina and the way that the wind patterns come down over the hill and across the bay, make one section of the dock vulnerable to strong winds. Tom was concerned that those boats with so much windage would tear up the docks. Boats on the end were not a problem; I guess we were too quick to take offense.

RAIN greeted us in the morning, The Lying Canuk (BC’s attempt to placate citizens who demand some form of weather forecast) told us to expect disgustingly strong winds. We decided to expect them right where we were and stayed another day, consuming books and the last of the store’s Double Fudge ice cream.

Our next stop was Shawl Bay, a marina we had not previously visited. This is an old-timey place with the original owners still there, first, second, and third generation, as far as we could tell. Think movies. Think hills of West Virginia. Picture people who are resourceful enough to survive in a harsh environment, but might not feel at home at the Kitsap Mall. Grandma, son and daughter-in-law, and mid-twenties grandson. Six or eight buildings built in the ‘50’s on log floats piled high with things that were needed in the past. Buildings painted more recently, but not THAT recently. Some cabins are for rent; not fancy, but clean: a quote from my guidebook buddy with the rose-colored glasses. Laundry. Store. It was probably actually stocked earlier in the year. There are two pictures of Shawl Bay in our cruising guide. I am so impressed with what a good photographer can do.

We had a great time. Happy hour was at five o’clock and the crews of the four boats gathered with drinks and goodies on the covered float to swap stories. Pancake breakfast the next morning. I’d go back again, but it might have to be with my next husband. Shawl Bay is not high on Doug’s list. I think he was put off by the 107*-year-old lady who took the moorage money. Or maybe it was her kitchen. (*That is just a guess….)

Doug made me go in to pay the moorage, although he went with me for moral support. Aunty Jo was seated on a bench in the far corner of her kitchen behind a table, smoking cigarettes that came from a huge can. I don’t believe I’ve seen canned cigarettes before. Every surface in the kitchen was covered with something. The table was piled so high with papers and boxes that you could hardly see her little body.

She carefully wrote the name and length of our boat and then started her meticulous computations. I was fascinated. I didn’t know whether to watch her manipulate the sheets of notebook paper and 3x5 cards or look around the kitchen. Not to worry; there was time for both. I was sure I was either back at the museum at Wangle or my in my Great Aunt Ada’s kitchen.

No calculator here. I didn’t dare talk to Aunty Jo for fear of distracting her. Eventually, she located the right line on the tax table and gave us a total. They only take cash, and I wished that I had brought change so I could pay the exact amount. How will she ever make change? Better than the kids at McDonalds. She was not addled, just slow with her movements. V-e-r-y s-l-o-o-o-w. But she’s WORKING! She’s living independently. And in a beautiful part of the country.

We talked a little after the transaction was completed and went out the door back into 2007.

From Shawl Bay, Windwalker and a few Dahl’s porpoises moseyed around the corner and a few miles south to Pierre’s Bay Lodge and Marina. Pierre and his wife started their marina in 2001 and have added on to it each year. The big float home has a living room open to the boaters, two nicely furnished suites with kitchens, and rooms to rent to the “timber cruisers”. The whole complex (on floats and logs) is tidy and well constructed and the little bay offered a beautiful setting. The marina is known for it’s warm reception, entertainment, and good food. Windwalker was there on Fish and Chips night, along with five other boats. Good food and good company. I think the boats enjoyed themselves, too.

North to beautiful Kwatsi Bay where Max and Anca are raising their two children in a pristine wilderness setting and offering a place for boaters to gather. When we were here in 2001, the kids were quite young and it was pouring down rain. They came aboard to play and were appalled, that the teddy bears (fourteen in number) did not all have names. That took some time to remedy, but Russell and Marieka were up to the task. The marina was new, and there was only one other boat. Max gave us two crabs and loaned us a book about the slaves at Nootka Sound on Vancouver Island. How is that for hospitality!

Our experience was not unique. Now EVERYONE goes to Kwatsi Bay; there were more than a dozen boats there the night we visited which is fairly impressive because the bay is way up Heck and Begone Channel. Max and Anca have created a covered gathering place on the floats, so we once again shared wine, food, and stories with other boaters. Quite a contrast to our days up north when there we’d see a handful of boats each day and were often the only boat in an anchorage, AND HAD NO ONE TO TALK TO BUT EACH OTHER. You can see why we enjoyed The Broughtons.

We motored to Lagoon Cove Marina in sunshine the next day through beautiful country, sharing the sunny waterway with a humpback whale. The whimsical owners bought Lagoon Cove (formerly a marine repair shop for the many people who used to live in this area) when Bill retired from advertising. He and Jean brought their creativity with them. This marina is attached to land, and you can walk past their flowers, LAWN, and tidy home to the burn barrel where a sign on a “totem pole” made out of used engine parts warns you that if you if you put anything in the burn pile other than burnable material, you will be plagued with evil spirits. There is also an Exercise Area that looks a lot like a pile of wood waiting to be split, with detailed instructions and an ax. We didn’t exercise, but many people do; they also pitch in to trim the trees and do other upkeep chores. The local black bears also pitch in to help, trimming the trees and eating the fruit.

At Shawl Bay, we had met Carol and Don on board Herself, a lovely Bill Garden designed trawler that Don built himself. One day the lumberyard delivered a huge pile of materials to their home, and eleven years and nine thousand labor hours later, a graceful trawler appeared. They rafted up next to us, and we enjoyed Lagoon Cove prawns at happy hour. Every day during the boating season. Bill goes out to catch prawns for that evening’s gathering. EVERY day.

RAIN and WIND the next morning. We decided to stay another day, playing Mexican Train Dominos with Carol and Don and gorging ourselves on the Labor Day potluck that night with batter-fried halibut as the centerpiece. You don’t go hungry in the Broughtons. We’ll plan to be back next Labor Day.

As we neared Johnstone Strait the following day, we had to decide whether to anchor and wait for the tide to be with us the next morning, (with moderate to strong winds predicted) or go for it the rain with the current against us, but minimal wind. The minimal wind and not-yet-maximum rain won, and we motored east, then north into Sunderland Channel, anchoring in Douglas Bay.

Herself came into the bay right after we did; we launched Ratty (in the RAIN) and motored over to spend the evening with Carol and Don. Looking out their windows (some boats have windows that allow you to see more than the trees, rock walls, and sky while seated) we were treated to a scene out of a Japanese painting: low clouds shredded themselves in thin layers along the shore. We all laughed as Don and I took pictures. Our little digital cameras’ flashes were flashing mightily, trying to light up the scene hundreds of feet away. Just doin’ their job.

Ghost Rider was anchored in the bay! Remember the phantom boat and her only-seen-once crew? We motored past in the dinghy. No people. This is a big boat with big windows in the living areas. Where do they GO??? We had fun with the possibilities.

We were going the “back way” to avoid most of the Johnstone Straits. This involves less exposure to contrary tides and prayer-inducing winds. Instead, you (we) get to navigate four (4) sets of rapids, Whirlpool, Green Point, Dent, and Yuculta, plus Gillard Passage.

Windwalker hung out in a calm, sunny Phillips Arm with a pod of killer whales to wait for the tidal exchange at Dent. Possibly the whales were not waiting for slack water. (I am disturbed that there is no apostrophe in "Phillips". And don’t ask me be about the “arm” part.) Dent Rapids with Devil’s Hole is potentially the most dangerous of the four rapids. We fell in behind a gill-netter about 45 minutes before slack and Windwalker played in the whirlpools. We did have to ask Mr. Kubota to chug, chug, CHUG at his highest rpm for a while, following the gill-netter through Gillard Passage and into Yuculta Rapids.

Coming out of Yuculta at six o’clock we were still debating where to spend the night, when Mr. Kubota said “Chug, ah, chug, ah, chug, chug” which means “my fuel filter is dirty and I’m having a little difficulty here”. Doug has learned to speak Kubota Very Well. That answered the question about where to anchor. We headed for nearby Francis Bay and Windwalker spent the night with her nose into a fifteen knot wind, secure on her 200 feet of chain. We felt like Alaska veterans.

Sunshine again the next day. After changing the fuel filters, we headed for Heriot Bay on Quadra Island. (Quadra is the island across from Campbell River, so you have some idea of where we were.) We hadn’t been to grocery store since Prince Rupert and were in need of some fresh veggies… and more wine. Oh. And laundry.

The Heriot Bay Hotel dates back to the early 1900’s. The laundry room for the campground and moorage guests is tucked in the basement. It is not actually tucked in the basement. It is lurking in the basement. The elderly washing machines (only one was out of order) were cowering on one side of the cavernous room. Their commercial dryer counterparts were standing a lonely vigil on the opposite wall. In between were two (clean) tables and one chair. Standard bare light bulbs. Ah! But there WAS a window and, with the door open, the terror and depression of the place were diminished. We checked out the showers next door, and hurried back to the relative cleanliness and structural soundness of the laundry room. Sunshine and good books read in chairs under the trees made the laundry interlude pleasant.

We waited at Heriot Bay for two days. Not for the laundry. For the wind to Go Away. Quadra Island is at the north end of the Straits of Georgia, and boats heading south can either go down the Vancouver Island side, or the mainland side. The nearest places to anchor or moor are thirty or forty miles away. That is six or eight Windwalker Hours, which means we would have to leave in the morning. In the morning, the wind was blowing twenty knots, and Windwalker was Stuck. An especially beamy boat behind her and the broadside wind smusheing her against the dock made it impossible for us to leave. By the time the wind abated for an hour, it was too late in the day to get to one of the far-away destinations before dark.

The wind pattern repeated itself the next day. We found three strong men to take lines to the opposite dock and, with the help of horsepower and manpower, Windwalker escaped into the sunny Straits with a fifteen knot northerly pushing her south. We could SAIL! Of course, we had not sailed for weeks and had finally taken in the jack lines. And had neglected to re-attach them before we left. The jack lines attach at the pointy end and are stretched back to the square end. (Windwalker is protesting. Her stern is not square.) They are a safety device. They are only a safely device if you attach them in port. When you (me) attach them in two-foot following seas, they are a safety hazard. The possibly of going overboard while attaching the device to prevent me from going overboard, made me wonder, once again, why we were allowed to untie from the dock.

We sailed for forty-five minutes. The wind dropped to twelve, ten, eight…. You know where this is going. We motored into Westview about six o’clock. Westview, right next to Powel River, (like you know where THAT is) used to be a rough town full of timber and lumber mill workers. I guess they’re still there because the mill is open, but the town is more welcoming to yachties now. We had a nice explore. Nice, not great. No ice cream cone.

We planned to be in Nanaimo the next evening, so we headed for the Straits of Georgia at dawn (which is a somewhat later than it was in Alaska in July) with predictions of 10-15 northwesterlies building to 15-25 in the afternoon. For the first part of the day, the wind and the tide were coming from the same direction, so the seas were not a problem, but that old tide just can’t maintain one direction for more than about six hours. We were still doing fine as the wind built and the current changed, but we had apparently stowed our brains with the spare life jackets and did not reef while we could still do it safely. The headsail became a diaper, then a handkerchief, and then we sent it to roll-up mode. Windwalker and her crew and her full mainsail did not like the last hour with beam seas and 20-25 knot winds. We assumed that when we got into Departure Bay, north of Nanaimo, the winds would Go Away. Some of them did, but 15 knots of them remained. Not one of the highlights of the trip.

When we tied up at the Harbor Authority marina, I kissed the dock, we gave thanks, and added more requirements to the job description for that guardian. Ah, but ice cream awaited us…

Dodd Narrows’ slack water was at the very respectable time of 9:30 the next morning. Sunshine and about ten other boats accompanied us through the Narrows. The wharfinger (no, that is a job title, really) at Nanaimo had told us that this was the second nice weekend of the summer. Everyone with a boat was on the water. As we headed toward Musgrave Landing, Mr. Auto Pilot said, "I’ll be happy to keep working, but my Port seems to be worn out. My Starboard is still fine, so I will just steer you over here to the right. And here. And here. A little more right. OH. Circles won’t work?"

No, circles won’t work. Mr. Autopilot won’t work. We have six separate instrument displays in the cockpit. A salt-water environment, electronics, and eighteen years. Yuck. As our trip has progressed, we have left the covers on the instruments that have ceased to function. One was a duplicate at the helm of the sailing instrument on the cabin face, so we didn’t rely on it. The other was the analogue readout from the wind indicator. We have that information on the (functioning) sailing instrument. Mr. Auto Pilot also has a back-up. It is called Doug. Or Jean. This is a bummer. But we WERE almost home. Could have been worse.

Our final BC destination was Canoe Cove Marina in Sidney where we had an appointment with Blackline Marine for rigging improvements. Blackline did an outstanding job when we limped in there for emergency repairs in June. We wanted to leave them more money.

Doug and I love marinas and boat yards. We enjoyed working with Brent and Jeff making Windwalker safer to sail and doing boat-stuff in the sunshine. Once again, the insanity of allowing ourselves to be owned by a boat, surfaced, but we brushed it off. Dreams of boats and boating have been a part of our lives since we were puppies. We are happy and grateful to still be dreaming and planning.

.

Chronicle IX

2007-08-28T11:57:00.000-07:00

Am I in the way if I stand here?

It doesn’t make any difference. I can’ see a thing.

We were southbound in the fog in Grenville Channel; we could see the shore, about 200 feet away, but nothing else. I got to toot the air horn and look for “alligators” (boat- eating vagrant logs) as well as other boats. We took turns scooting below to check the radar screen. The fog didn’t last long this time and we cruised out of Grenville without incident, crossed Wright Sound and headed up Verney Passage with its polished rock mountains, 3500 feet high, and glacier-carved bowls. (I’ve been reading the cruising guides again.) It is beautiful country and worthy of the hype.

We spent that night in Kitsaway Anchorage with a logging camp on one side. By the time we were deep enough in the bay to anchor, (searching for depths of less than 60 feet) we could no longer see the camp, AND the bug indicator was only 6 on a scale of 10. Yahoo! (We talked to a lady who asked us if we had encountered problems with “white-sock flies”. Huh??? You know, the little black flies with white feet. Who looks at their FEET?

We were boarded by the POOLICE! As Windwalker motored up Devastation Channel the next morning, we saw a handsome boat steaming up the channel behind us. (We have been fascinated on our trip by the place-names. This channel was named for a ship. Who would set sail on a ship named Devastation?) An inflatable detached itself from the mother ship (the M/V INKSTER – named after a former head of the RCMP), we stopped, and it and came alongside. Two handsome RCMP men greeted us. May we come aboard? No. We’re really not ready for company, and we don’t know you. Of course, Welcome aboard.

Windwalker passed her inspection with flying colors. She got to show off her flares and other safety equipment, as well as her vaccination certificate and adoption papers. She was very pleased with herself. Since her owners were apparently not members of a Taliban sleeper cell, we were allowed to go on our way.
We crossed the channel to Waweenie Hot Springs where the Kitimat Scuba Diving Club (really) had put two mooring buoys in the very small very deep bay. We dinghied ashore with our soap and towels. What a treat! There was a tub (a.k.a. concrete box) for scrubbing and a larger tub for soaking. We did. The sun was shining, the water did not smell like sulphur, and we no longer smelled like boaters.

Devastation Channel emptied into Douglas Channel, which became Kitimat Arm as we progressed north. We got to steer “0” degrees, which I thought was fairly exciting, until the enormous aluminum plant came into view. Kitimat is a company town, built by ALCAN and recently sold to EUROCAN. We knew it was now owned by EUROCAN because we could read the lettering on one of the many large buildings from miles away.

MK Marina, which both of our cruising books assured us is one of the best on this part of the coast was a bit of a puzzlement to Windwalker’s crew. Maybe the books meant the best marina on the coast of Kitimat Arm. Why am I whining? The store, which was well stocked with marine equipment, books, and canned goods, HAD NO ICE CREAM. It had no dairy products of any sort. We could understand the lack of alcohol, because the marina is part of Kitimat Village, a First Nations Community, but NO ICE CREAM???

We did stay to do the laundry and to change Windwalker’s filters and bodily fluids. ‘Sounds easy. In reality (which is where we are still operating, in spite of indications to the contrary) changing filters and fluids takes tricky body contortions, and we Have To Pay Attention. That is the hard part. The fuel filters and oil filter are in places we can barely see, much less reach. At lest we have not pumped hot oil into the aft cabin. Yet. The job description for that guardian gets longer.

Bishop Bay Hot Springs the next day was lovely, but the hot springs were full of tipsy fishermen off of a charter boat. We spent a restful night rafted to a handsome 52-foot wooden trawler. The morning light revealed a large former-tree-now-turned-navigation-hazard attempting to snuggle its long limbs around Windwalker’s rudder. It chortled as we tried to push it away with our spindly boat hook. The skipper of the trawler revved up his engine, and the prop wash from his 52-inch propeller sent the rudder-molester out into the bay. Windwalker appreciates her big brothers and sisters.

That night we anchored in our favorite depth: 90 feet. Allegra, Windwalker’s hero from the morning, was the only other boat in the bay until…the QE2 arrived, complete with helicopter on deck and a “garage” at the stern where they kept the jet skis and other small water toys. We dinghied around the bay, terroizing a seal, a herring ball, and a flock of apparently flightless birds.

Sunshine all the way to Klemtu the next day. We journeyed to Klemtu to find the crew of White Bear Rescue, the Coast Guard volunteer boat that had responded to our call for HELP! from Fjordland back in July. We saw the boat at a dock and asked around town for the skipper. Our knock on Jim’s door brought no response, so we left our note and big bag of dark chocolate on his boat, carefully protected from the ravens.

Klemtu is on Swindle Island, directly south of Princess Royal Island, the home of the Spirit Bear. The village has an impressive Big House (it was not open) and has discovered eco-tourism. A hotel had just opened the week we were there, and a boat takes visitors on daily excursions to Princess Royal Island in hopes of seeing these white bears that have become a symbol of the coast. (For those of you who are aware of our intent to change Windwalker’s name to Spirit Bear, we have altered course. Windwalker has been working with us on the new name. We’ll let you know when we know.)

More sunshine and calm seas across Milbanke Sound that had given us such a rough ride on the way north. At Shearwater, we finally saw the crew of Ghost Rider. She is a 50-foot older fiberglass trawler out of Cathlamet. We first saw her at anchor in Montague Harbor in the Gulf Islands. No sign of people on board for two days. Our next sighting was on the dock at Ocean Falls. The curtains were drawn all day. No people. The final manifestation was on our way north off of Grenville Channel. She came into the bay, and quickly, quietly departed. Very ghost-like, and much in keeping with our conclusion that there were only phantoms on board. No, they turned out to be actual people. We didn’t touch them, but they did talk, and you could not see through them. We kinda’ liked the phantom ship idea….

Green Island Anchorage moved onto our ‘favorites” list the next day. I lowered our star crab trap over the stern and waited for crabs to crawl on board. I don’t know if it was the rocky bottom or the lack of appeal of our turkey bait. No critters. We loaded the star trap, the 45-day old bait, and our rain-gear-clad selves into Ratty and went on an explore (in the rain) to find the Home of the Crabs. Rock is the surface of choice in this part of the world. ‘Tis difficult to find sandy places with crab-habitat eel grass. At the end of the adjoining inlet, we spotted a tiny lagoon and rowed in across the shallow mouth on the incoming tide. Do you anticipate a problem with this?

We floated around the lagoon and lowered the star-trap. With our rain-booted feet draped over the sides of the little boat, we floated and snoozed in the warm rain, dreaming of crabs pig-piling on top of each other to get at our turkey. When I pulled up the trap, the turkey looked a lot like it did when it went down. Doug started up Taku and we motored to the mouth of the lagoon, where Taku had be shut off; Doug tilted his little ass up so his blades would not touch bottom. Instead of Toshiba 3.5 hp, we now had Doug-sitting-on-the-floor-of- dinghy with tiny oars hp. The incoming current and the Doug hp were almost equal forces. Almost. We slowly made our way out of the current, and Taku took a crab-free Ratty and his crew back to Windwalker.

Doug and I have different tolerance levels for many things in life. I had carefully researched the closest possible, safest possible anchorage choices for our rounding of Cape Caution. It also had to be a place we could get weather reports. We could get weather reports in Green Island Anchorage. It was very safe. It was miles north of my tolerance level. HOWEVER, the weather report the next morning predicted 15-25 knots in the morning, diminishing to 15-20 in the afternoon. The “sea state’ at West Sea Otter Buoy (can you tell that I just LOVE all of these names?) was 1.2 meters. We were good to go up to 1.5 meters. We headed for Cape Caution. Slowly. The only way we go anywhere.

Four hours down Fits Hugh Sound, past the entrances to Rivers Inlet, and Smith Sound, Egg Island came into view, with the promise of Cape Caution beyond. Light winds and seas until we cleared the end of Calvert Island. The seas increased to a northwesterly swell on undetermined heights. The land never disappeared, so we assume they were less than two meters.
When we traveled north in June, it was very calm, and we were close enough to Cape Caution to take pictures. No pictures on this trip. We’ll rely on our imaginations. (‘Can’t rely on memory anymore.) It was a long, lumpy crossing, but not terrifying. We gave thanks.

Who ARE these people and why are they allowed out on their own??? Instead of going into Allison Harbor for the night, we traveled three hours further to Blunden Harbor a wonderful well-sheltered anchorage that is a favorite of cruising boats. We had fifteen knots of wind in the Queen Charlotte Straits. We had fifteen knots of wind in Blunden Harbor. AND there were three (3!) other boats. What kind of an anchorage is this??? We a put the anchor down in thirty feet on solid rock, dragged 90 feet of chain out behind it, and pretended like we were anchored. The wind dropped as the sun set. We were back “inside”.

Chronicle VIII

2007-08-27T15:42:00.000-07:00

Chronicle VIII
Monday, August 6
Taku Harbor, Alaska to Lowe Inlet, BC

We have to leave tomorrow, if at all possible, I told Doug as I came back aboard Windwalker.

We were waiting out some “icky weather” at an Alaska State Park dock at Taku Harbor. Our neighbor on the dock when we arrived on Sunday was a sports fisherman who had dip-netted fifty (50) sockeye salmon the day before. (Yes, that is legal in Alaska.) He generously gave us a fat gallon baggie of bright red fish, which joined our remaining fat gallon baggie of halibut. An abundance of riches.

Monday morning, the predicted high winds arrived along with a gill-netter from Sitka. On board were the skipper, his girlfriend, and the skipper’s Jack Russell puppy, Deeohgee. D-O-G. I get it. (Cindy had only been fishing for three weeks. It was hard to tell if she was in love with fishing, the skipper or the dog. Probably all of the above.) As we were standing in the rain, talking and playing with Deeohgee, they told me they were going fishing the next morning and would be back in the afternoon. They’d bring us a fish. NO! Not more fish! They were so pleased at the thought of being able to share with a yachtie, that I didn’t have the heart to tell them our frig and our tummies could not hold any more fish. I didn’t want to be there when they returned. Hence my comment to Doug at the beginning of this epistle.

Later in the day, the skipper mentioned to Doug that he’d like to catch a halibut. Don’t bother. We were able to off-load our halibut baggie and were left with about two pounds of cooked halibut and the salmon. A yachtie giving fish to a commercial fisherman. Could this be the definition of irony?

We did leave the next morning in the RAINRAINRAIN, that did not stop until we anchored in Snug Cove, after hours spent in our red (Jean) and yellow (Doug) raingear. The sun came out, and we dried out. Snug Cove is large and lovely, but it took Windwalker more than an hour to wind her way into it. Secure anchorages are not to be taken for granted in this part of the world.

Humpbacks all around us, and SUN! in Fredrick Sound the next day. The critters were not close to the boat, but what they lacked in proximity, they made up for in numbers. Their tails are the best! In Petersburg, we got to tie up with the big boys (seiners) again, but most of them had gone fishin’. We stayed a day to do laundry and eat ice cream, calamari, and Korean take-out. For us, that is gourmet dining in Alaska.

Wrangell Narrows on the 10th. Sunshine again! Our chart plotter decided we didn’t need it, since the 60 nav markers were clearly visible. He’d wake up for a while and then doze off, usually at a most confusing moment. Not acceptable behavior for any piece of equipment on a small boat. He continued napping and popping up until we anchored in Exchange Bay. I don’t know which was the most irritating: having the little icon disappear, the beep-beep-beep that warned us that we had a problem, or the message that appeared the screen: You’re on your own, sucker.

Our plans for an early departure the next morning were revised when we looked out the companionway and could not see stern of the boat, much less the sides of the narrow bay. Three hours later, the fog dissipated enough for Windwalker to carefully make her way out into Kashevarof Passage, where an untold number of little islands offered us a naviguessing challenge. Mr. Chart Plotter had apparently not slept well, and continued to nap/wake up/nap/wake up. Most (but not all) of the islands, reefs and rocks had names on our paper chart, but not a one of them had a sign on the shore. Who are you??? Where are we??? We got out the hand-held GPS, the dividers, and the parallel rules, and started making little marks and course lines on the chart. Sailboats do not have useable chart tables. Nautical charts are sized for naval vessels and large ships and measure about three by four feet. We were quiet a sight, trying to “walk” the parallel rules over to the compass rose on the chart, using the cockpit seat for our table. (We have done this before. This trip is our first experience with a chart plotter.) We finally stopped the boat until we could establish precisely where we were and plot a course for a safe passage. As soon as we got clear of the numerous islands, Mr. Chart Plotter gave one last yawn, shook his little plastic body, and looked around, all chipper and ready to work. Well, aren’t you sweet? We’ll be having a little chat when we get back.

With a 15-knot northerly wind behind us and the tide with us, we decided to head across Clarence Strait for Meyers Chuck instead of Ratz Harbor, our selected anchorage. There are so many new places we want to go next year; we were reluctant to go back to a place we’d already seen, but we were in “spring tides” again (large tidal exchanges and strong currents) and needed to carefully plan our routes and departures to take advantage of the currents. Meyers Chuck rewarded us by presenting a stunning sunset.

Ketchikan the next day, and then on to Foggy Bay, positioning ourselves to cross the Dixon Entrance. We got to Foggy Bay early in the afternoon and had time to take Ratty on a sunny explore of Very Inlet. Friends of ours, who shall remain un-named, actually took their actual boat into this intricate, many-armed body of water. We had fun in our toy boat, but turned around in the first narrows, because we were concerned about the narrows becoming rapids if we tarried too long on the strong ebb tide…and because the large whirlpools and overfalls were too strong for our little 3.5 hp Taku to make any progress… and because Ratty was virtually uncontrollable. Good decision. We had a great time and the Terror Component was nil.

Shortly before sunset, another sailboat came into the bay and Doug, invited the crew of Chablis, to come over for clam chowder. They had made the seven-hour transit from Ketchikan, and were more than happy to find a small café open at that hour.

We crossed the Dixon Entrance early next day in calm seas, then the wind picked up to fifteen knots on our nose. The usual direction when we have wind. We turned left for Venn Passage, the short cut to Prince Rupert, since we were at the entrance at high tide; it would cut off two hours of very uncomfortable travel. We traded those two hours for what seemed like two days, and more than a few anxious words. If I go there, I’ll be on the beach. What buoy? What do you suppose these marks on the chart mean? Am I really supposed to take that buoy down our starboard side??? Not a pleasant transit. We learned later that the log boom tugs actually move the buoys to make room for their tows. One sports-fisher skipper had a $250 repair to his prop to prove it.

Back to Grenville Channel the next day. We headed for a new anchorage, Lawson Harbor, but opted out when we looked out to sea and saw miles of northerly facing water. Winds of fifteen knots from the northwest were predicted, so Windwalker hauled her sleek, but slow little self out into the favorable current and arrived at Kumealon Inlet two hours later where the no-see-ums and black flies were awaiting our arrival. Yum-Yum: Delicious Doug and Lean Jean are on the menu. Sharpen up your stingers boys, and lay in a fresh supply of blood-dissolving toxins. Those two old people will have inflamed itchy red welts for at least a week. We’re havin’ fun now!

Powerboat skippers get a gold star. (Your know who you are.) As we approached Kumealon Inlet, a Wall-of-Water 45’ was heading toward the anchorage from the opposite direction. Often, such boats will invoke the Ancient Law of Tonnage, and power past pokey sailboats. He hung back at the entrance, and waited for us to toddle into the bay and select our spot to anchor before he came in. An officer and a gentleman.

Okay. We will be advertising for that guardian. He or she will need to know how to figure out the currents southbound in Grenville Channel. (Windwalker flew along at nine knots on our trip north.) We spent part of today making between two and three knots against the opposing current. We were in company with Chablis and another sailboat, so we weren’t the only ones who read the tide tables wrong. Wanna’ hear the good news? The rain didn’t start until we were an hour from Lowe Inlet, where we anchored now in front of Verney falls, and the Rain stopped. Life is good.

A 60-70 foot blue-hulled (our favorite color) powerboat anchored beside us; he got underway about the same time we did the next morning and we watched his anchor chain being hoisted effortlessly, magically, into the side of the bow, like a steamship. We heard a swishing sound and saw water pouring out of the bow, over the chain. He had a power wash-down system to clean the chain and anchor as it came up. That is disgusting. This is what I hear through my Toys R Us headset when Doug is on the bow cajoling the anchor windlass to keep turning: There is another *&%*## starfish on the chain. I think I’ll see what happens if he goes through the bow-roller. Ah! He fell off. I think he may have lost a leg, but he had at least twenty. And then, of course, we often have muck and mud from the chain on the deck. We usually let the rain take care of that.

If I get to heaven, I’ll have a boat with an automatic wash-down-system on the foredeck. If I go to hell, it might look a lot like our style of cruising…but I kinda’ like it….

2007-08-16T20:42:00.000-07:00

Windwalker Chronicles
August 5, 2007

We are no longer headed north. We only go to Chapter 5 (out of 10) in our Exploring Southeast Alaska book, so we will have many new places to explore next summer. We left Juneau this morning and will retrace some of our steps, since the weather forecast for Chatham Strait (where we wanted to go) was snotty. Not the word the forecasters used, but they should have. It ain’t too good for Stephens Passage either, but there are more places to hide, and the sea-state prediction is for three feet instead of six.

From long-ago Wrangell, Windwalker transited the often-busy Wrangell Narrows. Virtually all pleasure boats, the Alaska Ferries, and most of the tugs and barges use this route, so when you make your transit, your eyes must be directed out the window most of the time, our cruising guide warned us. Good advice, but wasted on sailors. The book has a full page and a half dedicated to the twenty-one-mile long Narrows with its 60 navigation aids and five sets of range markers. The Gods of Small Boats were with us; our four-hour transit was noteworthy for its lack of moments of sheer terror. My kind of cruising.

(065, 081, 077) In Petersburg, our destination at the north end of the Narrows, Windwalker was assigned moorage with the big boys, the handsome seiners and gill-netters. As we came down the fairway, a sea lion was enjoying an all-you-can-eat salmon buffet, diving and throwing his sizeable body out of the water as he played with his food. And did I mention that the Sun Was Shining? We like Petersburg.

We planned to stay in Petersburg two days, but our boat maintenance skills resulted in a longer visit. Fortunately, ‘tis a nice town to shop for shower sump pumps and wait for Alaska Airlines to overnight-freight (Oh. Did you expect it the NEXT day?) two impellers from Fisheries Supply in Seattle. We had an extra impeller, but needed to use it, and that left us impeller-less. You don’t want to leave home without one. Next year we’ll bring three or four.

Our acutely impaired trouble-shooting skills have resulted in replacing things that are not actually broken. (Shower sump pump). Additionally, we have been directly responsible for some critical parts breaking. (Impeller.) I think that we may need a guardian on the next trip.

Petersburg is a Poulsbo that has remained a fishing town. We enjoyed the smoked salmon, the friendly people, the lack of cruise ships, and the bookstore, as well as the picturesque town itself and the gorgeous setting. Oh! I got my hair cut by Ellie at Locks By The Docks. You can learn a great deal about a town during a thirty-minute haircut. And, as a bonus, I don’t look like the wife in the comic strip Lockhorns. At least, not the hair.

Far-way Juneau was our goal as we headed north. We anchored the first night in what we thought was a secure anchorage. The Douglas book said nothing about the fact that on anything but a minimal tidal exchange, the current ripped across the sand spit. As the sun set, Windwalker had wind and whitecaps on her stern and a strong current on her nose. I slept with the handheld GPS so I could check our position each time I woke up. The anchor held and we headed out the next morning for more exciting adventures at sea.

(VII 094, 093, 099) Our first iceberg and two glaciers! Neither Baird nor Sundum are tidewater glaciers, but they are impressive. From talking to people, we had learned about berggie bits, the little iceberg chunketts that eat propellers, so were cautious as we approached the larger icebergs in Tracy Arm. In retrospect, approaching them was, to quote Doug, “A stupid-assed thing to do” since our depth sounder went from 400 feet to 60 feet. We were on top of part of the iceberg. We’re placing an ad in the Seattle Times for that guardian. VII 105

After spending the night at Tracy Arm Cove, the only place to anchor if you want to make the twenty-five trip up Tracy Arm to view North and South Sawyer Glaciers, we decided to continue north. The RAINRAINRAIN did not make the 50-mile round trip sound inviting. As we left the cove and headed toward the two navigation buoys making the channel to Stephen’s Passage, a Holland American ship steamed past. Those people were warm and dry!

Even with the binoculars, we could not see the green buoy (they are often dragged off-station by the ice bergs). We did see big waves, but thought it was the wake from the Holland American ship. Not so. They were standing waves at the entrance; we were in the middle of a three-knot ebb current surging down that twenty-five mile fjord and rushing through a small opening at a speed much faster than three knots. (This is a huge shallow bay with moraines on both sides, limiting the navigatable channel.) We were into the current before we realized what was happening. Doug turned Windwalker 180 degrees and we willed the GPS to tell us that we were making headway, as we watched the speed-over-ground readout. Slowly the numbers increased from 0.3 as we got into deeper water and we were able to exhale.

An hour later, we returned to the site of our indiscretion, and motored between the two now-visible buoys in calm water.

While at anchor in Tracy Arm Cove, Doug had read to me about the marinas and places of interest in Juneau, which was only a (long) day away. As we headed north in the RAINRAINRAIN I re-read the information. That guardian we’re hiring needs to be able to Pay Attention When Someone Reads To You. To reach Harris Harbor or Aurora Basin, you pass under Douglas Bridge, which has a minimum height of 50 feet. 50 feet. Windwalker does not do 50 feet. She’d be nervous at 65. What to do? There is a small boat basin on the other side of Gastineau Channel (isn’t that a great name?) but it sounded marginal. As I read this, we were passing the entrance to Taku Harbor, an anchorage that offers some of the best protection between Juneau and the south end of Stephens Passage. Hard starboard rudder and we cruised into a large bay with a State Park dock and sailboat from Juneau! Magick’s skipper advised us to go “around the corner from Juneau” (twenty miles) to Auke Bay. Local knowledge is our friend.

(134) Coming into Auke Bay the next day, we could see the Mendenhall Glacier behind the marina. Beautiful setting. Auke Bay is the largest of the facilities in the greater Juneau area. Facilities include 7,672 (not a Jean number) of open moorage space. Reservations are accepted for vessels lager than 50 feet in length. What a crazy place. The entry in our log says “Yikes!” The outside breakwater had a number of 70 to 120 foot-plus yachts on both sides. Inside were more large yachts, plebian pleasure-craft, commercial fishing boats, and a gazillion sports fishing boats. The little boats were coming and going continually, but nary a 41 food spot was available. Finally, a larger boat left, and Windwalker settled in behind two commercial fishing boats. The female skipper off one of the boats started giving us a hard time because we are yachties, but it was just a façade; they were very helpful during our stay.

We took the thirty-minute city bus to Juneau to tour the capitol as well as the city and state museums. Alaska’s history and politics are fascinating. Juneau has a more varied collection of shops on the waterfront than Ketchikan, but we were unable to find anything we needed….except my Death by Chocolate ice cream cone. A rental car the next day took us to various hardware and plumbing shops until we found a fellow who could create a new shower hose for our head. This was the second time on the trip we had to replace it. ‘Sounds like we’re really clean people, showering all the time. Maybe we’ll just opt for Baby-wipes if the new one breaks.

(144) The rental car then took us to Costco (we wanted to re-provision before heading back to Canada where we found everything Very Expensive) and finally, the Mendenhall Glacier. Much more interesting than Costco. The glacier looked huge, old, and cold and not at all impressed by the people who were tromping about taking its picture. The day before (when it was sunny), we had seen if from the bus, and it looked much happier.

When we got back to Windwalker, the skipper of the sports fishing boat across from was filleting a 100-pound halibut caught by a guest who had arrived from Cincinnati that afternoon. I asked him what he was going to the next day. That’s hard to top. The fisherman shared a huge chunk of his fish with us, and hurried off to have the rest of it frozen and shipped home.

Before we left Bainbridge, Joan told me that friends of theirs were going to be in Alaska aboard their sailboat, Shingabis. Well, yes, I’m sure we’ll see them. It’s such a small area. Lo and behold. Do you suppose that is their boat? How many Shingabis’s do you suppose there are in Alaska??? We introduced ourselves to Maxine and Larry, and spent two entertaining evenings sharing stories and libations. They went “off-shore” when they were 60! and have been sailing for the last fifteen years: the Med, both the capes, Iceland, Greenland, New Zealand, and Australia. The list is long. And we thought that we were doing well to get to Juneau….

Picutres are in reverse order!!!

Still trying to get this right (Jean's sister)

ChronicleVII

2007-08-16T20:32:00.000-07:00

2007-08-14T15:22:00.000-07:00

Chronicle VI

2007-08-14T15:20:00.000-07:00

Windwalker Chronicle VI
July 22, 2007

We are in Alaska. All of us. Windwalker. Ratty. Teddy bears. Jean and Doug. All of us. You probably thought that we had forgotten where we were headed.

We crossed Dixon Entrance on Tuesday, July 17th, spending the night in Foggy Bay just like we told the US Customs Officials we would, clearing Customs in Ketchikan on Wednesday. But, of course, we didn’t just appear here from of outer space. We had had Explores, Minor Adventures, Minor Repairs, and Time to Do Nothing along the way.

After Namu and Ocean Falls, we still had one more fally-down site to visit in BC. Butedale, (#010 and 042) with its magnificent waterfall, is the site of a huge fish cannery that was shut down in the ‘60’s. Various attempts to make it into a viable vacation community/marina have failed and it is now owned by “some rich guy in California”. Lou, the (unpaid) caretaker who lives here year-round, has used skills learned from working on the Alaska pipeline to keep a few critical parts from falling into total disrepair. He is the walking definition of resourcefulness and tenacity. The power generation system is an example of his ingenuity. #033

Lou’s teenage granddaughter is staying with him for her second summer, so he had a little company. The day we were there, we were their only visitor, but they usually have one or two boats each day. We enjoyed his stories of the history of this entrancing, decaying place. (#012)

One of our two cruising guides is Wagoner, updated yearly by Robert and Marilynn Hale after they visit the places listed in the guide. (They have correspondents to help them out. What a chore that must be.) We have been a day or two behind the Hales since we got to Dawson’s Landing and preceded us to Ocean Falls and Butedale. We’d love to meet them; Doug is sure that they are both wearing rose-colored glasses. They NEVER have anything negative to say when sharing their passionate love for the people, the coast and its history. I do think we need to learn their language. The dock,s that have been a little rough in the past, are being replaced means that one dock has been replaced. The facility is a capturing of coastal history, right before your eyes means that no maintenance has been done since 1955. But, like the Hales, we appreciate the places and the people who are trying to keep them viable.

FAST-FORWARD!!! I had planned to logically relate our journey north from Butedale, but we have just returned to Windwalker from a (hopefully) once-in-a-lifetime experience. Everyone has heard or has a story to tell about Alaska and her bears. For many cruising boaters, just spotting a bear can often be the highlight of the trip. Exploring Southeast Alaska, p. 153.

‘Wanna hear our story? We had planned to go the US Forest Service Anan Wildlife (Bear!) Observatory on our way to Wrangle, but after reading about the tenuous anchorage, decided to take a tour of the area after we got to Wrangell. As we cruised by Anan Bay, we pointed Windwalker’s nose in to take a boo. She thought that she could stay in the bay for a while by herself, so we anchored (in 125 feet!). Our spiffy red spinnaker halyard hoisted Ratty off the foredeck, we settled Mr. Tohatsu on the stern, and set out to see the bears.

The observatory has a half-mile boardwalk and then a muddy path that leads to an observation platform with a lower photo blind above a waterfall. One gazillion and thirty-six salmon were franticly heading home to have sex, and several black bears were wandering down the riverbank to snack.

From the photo blind, we watched a black bear munching on his salmon three feet from us. He/she decimated that fish and swept a big paw into the water for another, right under our screened-off feet, then disappeared into a nook in the wall to eat in private. More bears came down the hill across the river, scooped up their treats, and ambled back up to enjoy the yummy parts. We took pictures, marveled at Mother Nature, and then headed back to find out if Windwalker was still pirouetting where we left her. (170, 168)

One of the rangers had started out ahead of us, and Doug asked another rangers if we could accompany her. As we hurried to catch up with her, she motioned for us to come ahead. Well, I thought, do we have to run? No, we just have to keep walking, because there is a black bear right behind Doug. The bear wandered down to the river, and we continued with our rifle-toting guardian to a spot where three bridges cross a ravine. On the other side of the bridges was a seven-to-eight year old Grizzly the rangers have named Sea Biscuit. Sea Biscuit is a rebellious adolescent: he recently destroyed an inflatable (we were told the rangers could not be responsible for Ratty), has held people hostage in the outhouse, and has bluff-charged two people in the last week. (HOW do you know it is a bluff charge???)

We stopped, and when he advanced across the bridge, we turned and headed back toward the observation platform, about a quarter mile away, with Sea Biscuit following us. (His stride was considerably longer than mine.) As we neared the falls, he decided salmon were more fun than people, and went fishing. We stayed on the platform a few minutes and thought about Windwalker twirling around on the incoming tide.

When the rangers decided it was safe to travel, we once again set out behind this young woman, with her pepper spray and rifle (which we hoped she knew how to use). She told us that pepper spray is only effective if it gets in the bear’s eyes and nose. Just how far does it spray? I’m buying the kind with the 50 yard range.

Windwalker was in the general vicinity of where we left her, but it took considerable time to haul the 400 feet of anchor rode back on board. Mr. Windlass was very tired and we were very wet as we set out (past Blake Island!) for Berg Bay, our planned anchorage for the night. Since there two other boats in Berg Bay when we arrived, and since we had the tide with us for The Narrows, and since Wrangle was only fifteen miles away we headed for Wangle.

Did you know that fifteen miles is not a finite number? It becomes an infinite number when a small boat encounters RainRAINrain. By the time we got to Wrangle Harbor, it was almost dark and the rain had increased, something we thought was not possible. We rafted up next to an elegant Nordhaven 40. I’m sure the skipper and crew thought that the hill people had arrived.

( 020, 035, 055) NOW I remember why we do this. We’re sitting in the cockpit under overcast skies with beer, potato chips, and dip, looking out at the workboats in Wrangle Harbor (less sophisticated than other historic Southeast towns, with the feel of the Alaska frontier.). We’ve just completed our explore of Wrangle, with its totem pole sites, shops catering to the locals (cruise ships don’t stop here) and friendly people. A new museum does an excellent job of depicting the history of this area, under the rule of the Tlinglits, the Russians, the British, and finally the US. Wrangle does not have a genteel past; Wyatt Erp declined to be it’s sheriff, but agreed to serve for ten days, during which time he arrested a man he had arrested twenty years previously in the southwest. Things have changed since then.

I still haven’t told you about The Fog Incident, Prince Rupert, crossing the Dixon Entrance, Ketchikan, or Meyers Chuck. I’ll try to be succinct. Good luck with that. OH! And Hartley Bay. And Grenville Channel. Be patient. Go get a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, or come back when you have more time….

After Butedale, we stopped for fuel and a sleepover at Hartley Bay, a tidy First People’s community with no store or other facilities, except for moorage, and very friendly people. (For some reason, my camera elected to stay on the boat when we went for our explore.) As we walked past a small house with toys and tables and chairs in the front yard, Doug noticed people at one of the tables ordering food. A restaurant! We ordered fish and chips and Cokes (Hartley Bay is a dry community.). The husband and wife took turns cooking, watching their kids, and kibitzing. Kids and families and dogs were out walking, enjoying the warm summer evening and the black flies; the home/café was the community’s gathering place. People shared the tables and talked back and forth. They were interested in where we were from and where we were going. The absence of cell phones and ipods left space. Of course, the weather and calamari helped.

We left in the almost-dark the next morning for Grenville Channel, The Ditch, which is a wide, 45 mile long highway that most of the cruise ships use. We saw the Coast Guard and numerous tugs and barges, but no big ships. Since we had the current with us, we motored almost to the end, anchoring in a lovely bay in a very unlovely eighty feet. Usually if you anchor in that depth, the advice is to take a line ashore, but shore was far away because of a shelf that dropped from about fifteen feet to our precarious depth. We had to connect our 200 feet of line to our 200 feet of chain. It worked, but it was ugly. In Prince Rupert, we found a talented man at the chain store (no, not K-Mart) who spliced the line to the chain. It woks better, but Mr. Windlass gets confused talking line and chain. He can do it, but it taxes his brain.

Heading to Prince Rupert the next day, we motored into The Fog. The Radar was employed, our little air horn saw the light of day, and I stationed myself on the foredeck to watch for alligators (big logs) and boats. The Radar lives and works in his very permanent home above the chart table. The chart table is located some distance from both the helm and the foredeck; we took turns running down to see what The Radar was seeing. We could hear an engine. Big engine. We could hear a ship’s horn. We could hear our horn. We could see nothing. AFTER the BC Ferry went by, (their wakes are much larger than the cruise ships, so we knew who it was) I scampered below to watch him on the radar. He was less than a quarter mile from us and had graciously altered course to avoid a collision. Judging from the size of his wake, how quickly it reached us, and the speed with which the blip on the radar screen moved, he was not moving at a speed that will allow you to stop in half the distance you can see. More grateful prayers. This cruising business can be a religious experience. (076, 083)

Back on the foredeck. What is THAT? Doug put the engine in neutral as we watched a form materialize out of the fog. A rock? A ghost ship? A tree? A TREE??? ‘Twas huge and had been at sea for some time, judging from the amount of bird poop on it. We were in awe. More prayers of thanks. (#VI 076 & 093)

The fog departed. Windwalker and her grateful crew proceeded to The Prince Rupert Rowing and Yachting Club, which is the only place for pleasure craft to tie up in Prince Rupert, due to all the fishing boats at the two public docks. An Eagle Harbor Yacht Club burgee greeted us from the railing.

Due to a glitch in licensing agreements, there is no cell phone reception in Prince Rupert for US customers, regardless of roaming, wandering, straying, etc. We were using the phone at the head of the pier one evening, when another yachtie stopped to talk to Doug. Look, there is an eagle sitting on your mast. That happened to me last year. ‘Broke my VHF antenna. Well, good. Welcome to Mother Nature and the Ancient Law of Tonnage wrecking havoc on our technology-laden lives. Our dock-neighbor, a skipper from Switzerland on a chartered boat with a crew of five women, had told us earlier that an eagle had broken his wind-direction indicator in Port Hardy. In our minds, the majestic bird was transformed into a rude, potentially dangerous and repair-causing piece of meat. I trotted down to Windwalker and loosened the spinnaker halyard, working it back and forth until Eagle got tired of the unreliable perch and slowly soared away in search of something more stable. All the little pieces of equipment that call the masthead their home seem to have survived the visit.

After three days in Prince Rupert (the laundry attendant and his facility are a story that I will skip), we again headed north with a favorable weather prediction to CROSS THE DIXON ENTRANCE. We’ve been listening to Dixon Entrance weather reports for years; we felt like this was a rite of passage. It was a long day, and we had beam seas in the Dixon Entrance itself, but no harrowing experiences. We were happy to anchor in beautiful, very-difficult-to-enter Foggy Bay where we were surprised to find four large yachts from the Seattle area.

Ketchikan the next day, where we cleared Customs, did laundry, encountered and cured a problem with the hot water faucet in the galley, and avoided the 9,000 (That is an actual count, not my invented number.) cruise ship visitors. We saw some of the sights, but saved most for the trip back. It did seem to us that Creek Street, which was once the red-light district and is now full of shops selling items to the 9000 cruise ship patrons, served a better purpose in its former days. (#VI 103)

(142, 143) Next stop: Meyers Chuck, a very secure bay with a public wharf and more than its share of picturesque Southeast cabins and fally-down buildings. Meyers Chuck is one of the places that Michael, the skipper of Duen way-back at Musgrave Landing, recommend to us. We thank him. Moored across the dock from us was Provider, a handsome fish and crab boat that works in Alaska in the summer and in the San Francisco area during the winter. The skipper had approximately 732 (my number) very large Dungeness crabs and a smaller number of salmon. When we returned from our explore, Morrie, the skipper of the boat behind us, was cooking two of the crab, explaining that Provider’s skipper had given them to him, and one was intended for us. Yum.

We shared wine and stories with Morrie and Catherine on board Phoebe while the crab cooked. Since they were headed south, they gave us their Important Copy of the Alaska Marine Highway 2007 Official Summer Schedule, which we didn’t even know we needed. It is more than a little useful when transiting Wrangell Narrows to Petersburg; you want to know when to expect those big blue ships.

The following day was our Bear Story at Anan Bay and the too-long transit to Wrangell.

More will follow. We’re still headed north.

2007-08-12T19:25:00.000-07:00

Doug and Byron at Hakai

How adults spend their time in THE RAIN at Namu

We’re not sure how bad you have to be to be Sent To The White Chair. Note flag orientation. Namu

Recycling and garbage at Namu

Fire fighting equipment, Namu

2007-08-12T19:23:00.001-07:00

Windwalker Chronicles V
July 10, 2007

We’re anchored in Windy Bay, which is not windy today. Fortunately. We rather need a day without stress.

From Ocean Falls Windwalker motored the long-way-around to Shearwater, avoiding the eight-mile shorter Gunboat Passage. We didn’t want to have to try to explain to the insurance company why we had deliberately chosen Gunboat Passage at low tide.

Shearwater is a cruiser’s Nirvana with a large boatyard, a marina with docks that don’t wobble, a pub, a five-star laundry with showers, a store with ice cream, and a post office. The boatyard and the new fishing lodge with its own airport are what actually support the area; our two-dollar showers won’t go far toward paying the bills. We spent two days there because…I’m trying to remember. Oh yes. The bilge pump kept cycling on during our first night. Instead of heading for the gas dock at seven in the morning as planned, we started tearing the boat apart looking for the source of the leak. Two or three hours later, we were satisfied that the contributing source was a lose hose clamp on the fresh water pump. We consoled ourselves that good practice dictates that those twelve though-hull values should be “worked” every twelve months or so. Good practice (and the neglect thereof) will be referenced again later in this epistle.

The sun was shining! That is another reason we liked Shearwater. We mussed and fussed and talked to people on the dock. Heinz from Avoca (Namu-land) was on the dock to take our lines when we arrived. Going anywhere in this small community was just like trying to go for a walk on the Sandspit: people are friendly and want to talk. I walked up to the marine store to buy my fishing license and was gone for forty minutes. Where have you been? Where are you going from here? Have you been to (insert name of anchorage)? Have you done any fishing?

We took the sea taxi, Shearluk, (I liked the name) across to Bella Bella where little boys jumping off the pier was the high point of our explore. Not a friendly native village. (V002 and V0003)

Three hours out of Shearwater, we were in the ocean once more. We don’t look forward to crossing Milbanke Sound again on our way south. As we rounded the classic-looking lighthouse at Ivory Island, we noticed that there were no windows on the south side of the buildings. We did not have to wonder why. Oliver Cove offered Windwalker and crew a quiet night.

Rain. RAIN. Rain. Rain all the next day as we motored to Windy Bay which would be our base for exploring Fjordland Park with its high snow-covered peaks and ridges with vertical granite ramparts rising above Kynoch Inlet. Unfortunately, the Rain, RAIN, Rain was accompanied by very limited visibility. ‘Tis hard to see the high snow covered peaks when you can hardly see the vertical granite ramparts that are a substitute for shore.

I decided to go for a row in Ratty in the drizzle. As I crabbed my way toward the little patch of beach in the bay, the inflatable from the only other boat in the bay headed toward Ratty. The skipper told me he had spent two hours the night before photographing a grizzly bear on the beach. I decided to just row around in circles, which, come to think of it, it the way I always row.

The next day was SUNNY!!! and we headed toward Fjordland Park, backtracking through Mathieson Narrows (no treacherous current) where we saw our first humpback whale and then gazillion waterfalls as we entered Kynoch Inlet. # V019, V028 We motored along in the sunshine, for five hours all the way to the end, ohhhing and ahhhing at this amazing place. Not another boat shared this spectacular place with us. In fact, we had only seen four boats in the last twenty-four hours. #V039, V037, V048

There was no wind and a slight outgoing current when the engine lost power, and I shut it down. Windwalker drifted along, heading lazily down the middle of the fjord, slowing making her way toward the wall on the right as the skipper and crew…well, we didn’t panic, but we were not stress-free. Open the lazeret to get access to our good friend Mr. Kubota. His fuel pump was hot. Doug got out the spare and figured out how to wire it. A little more trouble-shooting. Remember the earlier reference to best practices? We have two fourteen-gallon fuel tanks that Doug periodically refills from our jerry cans. You’ve already figured this out. We switched to the Full Fuel Tank, (what a concept) and the wall on our right receded to its appropriate place, along with our stress levels.

Twenty minutes later, the reduced-power-shut-down-the-engine procedure was repeated. We needed to sail. The sails and our stress levels ballooned out in the three knots of wind as we reached the main channel. Which way to go? Where the most wind? Where was any wind? No wind. There was not place to anchor. We were in 600 feet of water….right up to the walls. We saw a sailboat five miles in the distance and Doug tried to call them on the VHF. Then he called for any boat in the vicinity of Mathieson Narrows. Prince Rupert Coast Guard answered. We were amazed. We explained that we could not keep our engine running and needed to get back to Windy Bay, so we could anchor and find the problem. What is your position? Are you in danger? We are not in danger, but we can’t anchor and we can’t sail. Stand by on Channel 84. They called us back, but could not hear our response, and we lost them. Doug tried the engine again, and it ran, at about half-speed. Grateful prayers were prayed. We were able to make radio contact with the Coast Guard, and told them that we were proceeding under reduced power to Windy Bay. Windwalker out.

About five miles from Windy Bay, we noticed a little boat off in the distance obviously fishing, and then saw a big official-looking inflatable roar up the channel and approach him. Let’s hope the people on that boat have their fishing licenses. Official Looking Boat headed toward Windwalker. The two men and the dog on board White Bear Rescue, out of Klemtu, about forty miles south, had been sent by the Prince Rupert Coast Guard to see if they could assist us. # V074 More grateful prayers. We proceeded along at a fine steady speed of three knots toward the anchorage. White Bear followed us to the entrance to Windy Bay and told us to be sure to call if we couldn’t fix the problem. You’ll be the first to know…assuming we have VHF capability. (We’re thinking dirty fuel filters at this point.)

We anchored in 80 feet of water and shared a stunningly beautiful evening with our friends, Navy Rum, no-see-ums (far too many to name), and Muskol Insect Repellent. Life is terrifying and good. #V075, V077

The next day, we changed all of the filters as well as the oil (now THAT is fun) and hoped that we had solved the problem brought on by our becoming so engrossed in the scenery and experience of Fjordland that we forgot our normal routine.

Disclaimer: The fuel gauges gauge nothing at all. They just sit there and wiggle back and forth, rather enjoying themselves. We kinda’ sorta’ know that, and just go by hour many hours we’ve been on one tank. Or not.

Also of interest: Windwalker came with a spare (used) fuel pump because the prior owner had a fuel problem, replaced the pump, and then discovered that, since he had let one tank run dry, the gluck in the bottom had fouled the filters. History (almost) repeating itself.

Chronicle IV

2007-07-20T15:28:00.000-07:00

Friday, June 29, 2007 Dawson’s Landing, Rivers Inlet BC

If you would like a chronological rendering of this information, please print out these pages, and cut and paste. We don’t have ‘Puter (the Toshiba laptop computer we borrowed from Jolie and Joe) out every day. He spends his days under the covers in the aft cabin where there is less chance of Bounce and Heel, both of which bother him greatly. But now he is out because There Is Nothing to Do; we are tied to a dock in the pouring rain at the end of the known would.

We rounded Cape Caution at 8:15 this morning. How did we get there? The last time I “chronicled” we were heading into the Johnstone Straits. Johnstone Straits are known for their Maytag Effect: Lots of suds, and no dry cycle. Since the weather forecast was favorable, we decided to ignore the safer route through Green and Whirlpool Rapids that dumps you out into the straits further west. After carefully reading our books, we decided to spend the night at Port Harvey “the best anchorage on the Straits” (in a field of two). As we neared our destination, Doug pointed out that we were making 7.3 knots speed-over-ground (no snickering) and we could be in Port McNeill by 7:30 and it was light until 10:00…. I suddenly felt young again; just like when we were first married and drove back from Yellowstone almost non-stop, or drove to Salem for pizza with Kip and Kay and back the same evening. Don’t ask me why Doug assumed the current and wind would maintain their direction and velocity. They did not, but we were anchored (no room at the dock) by 8:00 that night.

Port McNeill is a lumber and fishing town suffering from the depression in those two industries. But they like Yachties, and have good services including a NEW LAUNDROMAT. The last time we were here, the laundromat was in a broken-down building with broken-down equipment, but we met two helicopter loggers there, and talking with them made it well worth the wait. This time, CNN was on the telly in the immaculate Laundromat, and we had fee Internet access. Which to I like better? Some people are never happy.

We crossed Queen Charlotte Straits the next morning and spent the night in Allison Harbor on the mainland, the last anchorage before rounding Cape Caution. As soon as we anchored, the wind came up and we watched carefully to see if Mr. Anchor was actually planning to stay where we thought he should. It is not often that you get to do this while it is still light; usually the wind comes up in the middle of the night.

Anchoring: We have an original-equipment anchor windlass and a new-last-year 45-pound anchor. Windwalker came with (and still has) a 33 pound Bruce anchor which is now our back-up anchor. Mr. 45 Pound Anchor (did I say that the is Very Handsome and knows it?) is connected to his mom by 300 feet of chain. We always think kind thoughts about the windlass when we ask him to do anything since he is not longer young and we know how that feels. Anchoring entails circling round while the depth sounder tells us what is beneath the keel, and then lowering Mr. Anchor and backing the boat. Doug and I wear our Toys ‘R Us walkie-talkies; we don’t have to yell, but still get to use bad words. So afar this has worked well. Stay tuned.

We were told to listen to on the Weather Channel 3 (no Steve Poole here) for the “sea stat” at West Sea Otter Buoy in order to know if we had a big enough “window” to round Cape Caution and cross Queen Charlotte Sound, one of the two big bodies of open water on the Inside Passage. If the sea sate was less than 1.5 meters and the predicted winds for Small Craft Warnings or lower, rounding the Cape should be fine. On Friday morning, West Sea Otter sea state was 1.0, and Windwalker motored around the cape with no wind and no problems, just moderate seas …COMING ALL THE WAY FROM JAPAN. Can you tell that I was impressed?
Part of the intrigue of this region for us is the history of both the First Peoples and the white settlers, and we’ve identified some places we don’t want to miss. After rounding Cape Caution, we took the second right and headed for Dawson’s Landing in Rivers Inlet, one of the places on the list. The fact that no one answered our VHF call, there were NO boats tied up, and it looked deserted, was a bit disconcerting, but they were open, and we tied up just at the next six-hour rainstorm hit. Their supply barge was more than a week overdue, fishing season was starting Next week, and they had no smoked salmon. The place looked very sad and needy, but, as Waggoner Cruising Guide says, it is a capturing of coastal history before your eyes.

We read books, took naps, and listened to their the German Shepard bark at fish and seals. Rob, the owner who grew up there, told me that when he was a kid, (the store has been in his family since 1954) the lights from the commercial fish boats in the bay made it look like Vancouver, without Stanley Park, obviously. He’s not sure what the future holds. About 11:00 that night, the supply tug and barge arrived and proceeded to off-load cargo. The next day, Nola, Rob’s wife, related the saga of the barge company. The Crown has awarded the contract to serve the various fish camps and settlements to the lowest bidder. According to Nola, this owner doesn’t maintain his equipment, pays low wages, and works his crews hard. They lost a barge (but not the crew) a few weeks earlier when the green crew decided the seas were too rough, and turned the tug around. No one told the barge, which proceed to run over the tug. The barge in now on the rocks, along with someone’s order. That ain’t no way to run a railroad. Nola had more stories, but the gist of it is that all of the fish camps (with plans to open between July 2nd and 9th) need their supplies (all of which are delivered to Dawson’s Landing) and have no way to get them in a timely manner, if at all. I thought the situation sounded perilous, but Nola seemed calm. If you live in this environment, I think you guess wait for what happens next.

Now it is Canada Day, Sunday, July 1st, and we’re anchored in Pruth Bay on Calvert Island, recommend by Ed and Judy, as well as other Inside Passage Experts. At the head of the bay is Hakai Beach Resort, a beautifully maintained fly-in fishing lodge with handsome red metal-roofed buildings and lots of rules. (The same barge and tug arrived this afternoon.#025). We carefully walked across the resort grounds to the trail leading to a “spectacular fine-fine sand ocean beach” and then went for an explore on the inland waters in Ratty.We decided to investigate what we thought was an abandoned cannery, but as we got closer, it was apparent that it was not abandoned and was not a cannery. It was another fish camp, but very different from Hakai Beach Resort. Hakai Beach Resort will open tomorrow and there were men working on the buildings and grounds, who said “hello”, but were not welcoming. As we neared Hakai Lodge (no beach here, it is anchored to the wall) a workman invited us to tie up and have a cup of coffee. (042)There were five or six men working on the Boston Whalers on the docks. We tied up Ratty, and another worker said, “Coffee is in that building.” A man wearing a Hakai Lodge shirt approached us and, introducing himself as Byron, invited us (again) to have coffee, and led us into the one of the buildings where people were unpacking boxes. These people were outgoing, welcoming, and interested in having someone share their coffee, which was quite good. They all arrived about three days ago and will open in a week. Byron gave us a tour, told us the history of the Hakai Beach Resort that was bought out of bankruptcy a few years ago by some very wealthy people and only has two or three groups of people come in each season.

Byron and his partner have owned the Hakai Lodge for 25 years; most of their customers arrive by float plane from Renton. Each September the whole thing is towed to Rivers Inlet for the winter; it would never survive on this part of the coast. We swapped sailing stories for about an hour and let him get back to work.

Since I had not had enough old-fallen-into-disrepair communities, we headed for Namu the next morning.OH! But the people we met! We called on the VHF and got an answer, much to my surprise. Rene, who greeted us under their great keep-out-the-rain shelter, is welcoming, energetic, and friendly. There were three sailboats already tied up, and one had radioed that they were “wounded” (Rene’s word) and were sailing in. Two of the boats’ crews knew each other from previous anchorages and also knew the boat coming in under sail. As we stood around talking under the shelter in the pouring rain, Pete, Rene’s husband came in and lit a fire in the large round fire pit with a propane weed burner. Don’t try this at home. They certainly don’t weed here. The skippers and crews from Windwalker, Nycteris, Avoca, and Penguin spent a lovely afternoon and evening enjoying the fire and the company. As the afternoon progressed, we tried to resuscitate Pat’s sea urchin. She had wanted to somehow scrape the animal out and keep the shell, but when she dumped it out of it’s bucket onto the floor, it started to ambulate toward the water, and we decided it should be saved. We put it up on the rail, and watched it topple into the water only to see it FLOAT! No! No! Sink! Sink! Suggestions of fishing it back out and burping it were ruled out, and no one wanted to teach it to fart. It was last seen heading out to sea at quite a respectable speed in the company of a piece of driftwood. That little guy will have tales to tell when he gets home.

We shared stories and plans under the rain shelter by the fire in the Rain, Rain, Rain. No one does rain like The Raincoast. Through some wonderful alchemy of many brains, a few suggestions, and Pete’s tools, Nycteris’ propulsion problem was on its way to being solved when we left the next day.

Namu was a BC Packers’ plant years ago, with 2000 people living there in the summers. When the company abandoned the plant, they simply walked away, leaving the stock on the shelves in the store and all the equipment in place. When it finally stopped raining Tuesday morning, Doug and I went on an explore, being careful not to walk on the old piers. Looking in the windows of the store and seeing magazines and merchandise on the shelves was a strange experience. Decay and decline took on a whole new meaning in that place. We enjoyed imagining the lives of the people who called Namu home.

Two days north, up Cousins Inlet, we visited Ocean Falls: population 2-3,000 in the 1940’s and 40 in 2007. When Crown Zellerbach left in 1980, the government ran the plant for a few years, and then razed most of the town in 1986. They could have done more. The dam, which was built in 1917-18, now supplies power to Bella Bella and Shearwater.

Wildlife spotting in Ocean Falls: a little black bear sitting on top of a wall next to the building where we did our laundry and a porcupine that didn’t allow us on his street as we walked toward the dam just before dusk. AND Black Flies. They found us almost a week ago at Pruth Bay and we are still itchy and blotchy. I look like I got in a fight. Jolie and Joe gave us Bug-Off garments before we left, but we weren’t wearing them.

More photos and tales will follow, although I’m not sure when we’ll find a mailbox again….

chronicle III Pictures

2007-07-14T15:04:00.000-07:00

Two of the bears thinking about the rapids.

The cockpit as we head for Yuculta and Dent Rapids.

Cylinder headed for repair.

Windwalker's new friend.

We hope speed is not an issue.

Had we known this was for sale...

Dodd Narrows trip #3

Icon at far left, Windwalker's sistership in middle.

She just LOOKS bigger than Icon.

Van Isle 360 start

Ducks gaining on lead boat!

Underway fueling. Not the way they do it in the Navy.

Chronicle III

2007-06-27T16:07:00.000-07:00

Chronicle III
June 21, 2007 Day 25

I do believe this is the Summer Solstice, or something near to it, and here we are in the Far North: latitude: 49 degrees, 40.977 minutes N, longitude: 123 degrees, 24.181 minutes W. You no doubt immediately recognized that position as slip #57 on C dock at Canoe Cove Marina just north of Sidney, BC…about 20 miles north and west of where we were on Day 3. I’m sure there is a story here. Does the fact that this marina is the home of Blackline Marine, the sailboat-rigging component of Canoe Cove Marina and Boatyard give you a clue?

For years, we have defined cruising as “boat repairs in remote places”. We’re going to revise our definition. Times change. “Boat repairs wherever you can find them.” Thank you, boat-repair gods

From our wet-but-nice moorage at Page Point in Ladysmith, Windwalker transited Dodd Narrows once again on June 11th and we tied up at the Nanaimo Yacht Club for Doug’s trek back to Bainbridge via BC Greyhound, the Victoria Clipper, Washington State Ferries, and Kitsap Transit. The “procedure” at Virginia Mason was minimally invasive. (No stitches…’probably could have waited until October). On Wednesday, Doug reversed the transportation order, with Joan and Richard filling in for Kitsap Transit, and cleared Customs with a new regulator in his backpack. On the way North, our engine tachometer had been going wiggy-wiggy, rollicking between 0 and 1800. It was not having fun. A phone call to Mark-the-Engine-Man caused us to order a replacement regulator, which Karl ferried over to Bainbridge and handed off to Doug.

Thursday morning Doug installed the new regulator, tested it’s lights and settings, we topped off our fuel tanks at the gas dock, and pointed Windwalker’s bow toward the Straits of Georgia. Crossing the Straits is the first “marker” on this trip. One look at our still-rollicking tac, and we altered course for the Nanaimo Yacht Club. The tac was still not having fun. The crew, ditto.

A phone call to John Wilton, Windwalker’s good friend on Bainbridge, gave us a starting point for solving the problem. Another phone call to the Harbor Chandler, and Dieter Reeh, a retired marine electrician, appeared. After some trouble-shooting, Doug and Dieter headed out to buy many, many feet of wire. The next day, they bought an oil-sending switch and, finally, a $5.00 in-line fuse and fuse holder, which solved the problem. Dieter was apologetic, but we were delighted to have a happy tac. He put everything back together and left. Doug did some more clean up and turned the key. The engine started, but we had no tac and no alternator output. We were no longer delighted. Check all the systems. Leave messages for Dieter. The next morning, Doug checked the brand new in-line fuse. He replaced it. Dieter called (good timing), and we were able to report that all was well.

Did I mention that it POURED on Saturday morning? Not a notable event, except that it was the start of The Van Isle 360, an around-Vancouver-Island sailboat race that is held every two years. Friday night, we had walked to the boat basin to view the 40-some entrants at the docks, flying their colors. Among them was a sister ship to Windwalker, as well as Icon, a large dark-hulled sloop that is owned by Barbara Robbins’s brother. (At least, we think he still owns it…) At 1030 hours, these sleek vessels were off in a drenching rain with about five knots of wind. Not an auspicious start, but such is the nature of sailing, racing or cruising.

We spent Saturday evening swapping boating stories with Sharon (a retired special ed teacher) and Dick on board Bankruptcy (we didn’t ask), a Catalina 36 out of Anacortes.

Sunday morning Windwalker SAILED across the Straits of Georgia! That is what she does, you know. And she does it very well. At Pender Harbor, (are you tired of hearing that these are all favorite places?) we tied up to the public dock and went for a walk in the spiffy tiny town of Madeira, When we returned to the boat, we noticed fluid dripping down Windwalker’s stern from one of her two hydraulic backstay adjusters.

Have you seen the movie Ground Hog Day? Windwalker keeps seeing Nanaimo and Dodd Narrows over and over again. Her fourth transit through the Narrows early on Tuesday was the beginning of a sunny day of motoring through the Gulf Islands (SOUTH!!!) to Canoe Cove. Brent, an-Authorized- Navtec-Technician quickly measured Windwalker’s leaking cylinder, made a call to the mainland to order parts, and assured us we would be good to go on Wednesday afternoon. As it turns out, Blackline is the largest rigging shop on the west coast. Windwalker was in good hands.

Dinner that night was at the Stone House Pub. ‘Beautiful old house, lovely English gardens, good beer, cheerful waiter, and an interminable wait for our overcooked and incorrect (anyone can confuse chicken with lamb) dinners. The waiter brought a second order of fish, which did not resemble shoe leather, and they “comped” our dinner, but we are not longing to return, which is just as well, since we had to give Blackline Marine more that $1.29.

Sometimes a Girl Just Has to Accessorize….

Brent installed the rebuilt backstay cylinders right on schedule, and we asked if he had time to go up the mast to inspect our steaming light which had ceased working for the third time. That was a mistake. Windwalker started fantasizing about other accessories.

If we had been paying attention, we would have noticed her trying to twist around to admire her shiny black backstay cylinders. When she heard “steaming light that works” she started daydreaming. How charming she would look with a bright steaming light AND a new main halyard! Dare she mention it? The old wire-to-rope halyard had a checkered history (which, of course, had cost money) with Port Townsend rigging. Windwalker was embarrassed by it, it didn’t run through the sheave at the top of the mast easily, and Doug cursed the shackle each time we (he) hoisted the mainsail. A day and a boat-unit or two later, and Windwalker could hardly stand herself: correctly wired steaming and deck lights, rebuilt backstay cylinders, AND an exquisite 10 mm Dyneema Braid (dark) Green with a Wichard 1495 10mm Captive Thimble. The best!

Deciding that we did not want to subject ourselves to Dodd Narrows again, we transited Active Pass at slack water, and sailed up the Straits of Georgia, anchoring at Buccaneer Bay. Saturday afternoon we tied up (again) at the public wharf at Madeira Park. We were sitting in the cockpit early in the afternoon, when a sailboat came in and circled around the crowded docks. “Do you want to raft up?” “No, we’re just searching for an internet connection.” A sign of the times. (Later that night, our computer found a connection wandering free, and we checked e-mails.)

Heard on our VHF radio the same afternoon: All stations, all stations, all stations,. This is Comox Coast Guard Radio, Comox Coast Guard Radio. A Golden Retriever has been rescued in Malaspina Straits. If you are missing your Golden Retriever, please contact this station. Comox out.

We anchored the next night in Squirrel Cove in Desolation Sound and THEN….(drum roll here)…. Yuculta and Dent Rapids. We have navigated these once before, but it was still a mighty effort to make sure we did all the calculations correctly. You have to go through Yuculta about an hour before slack water because Dent “turns” 35 minutes before Yuculta and they are about two miles apart. Coming east, we won’t have the problem. Windwalker was very excited, and pleased that we had read and checked everything so carefully.

Wildlife Report: Do nine eagles circling overhead while were transiting the rapids qualify as report material? ‘The best we can do so far. We spent the night in Chameleon Harbor on Sonora Island and, after listening to a benign weather forecast in the morning, headed out into the Johnston Straits.

Weather: The usual summer weather patterns are high weather systems coming down across the Queen Charlotte Islands, bringing sunshine and with northerly winds rising in the mid-afternoon. We’re assuming that Coastal BC used more than its share of highs in 2006 and is not going to get any in 2007. Or maybe it’s just early.....

Chronicle II

2007-06-19T20:31:00.000-07:00

I will try to fix this later - jolie
_________________________

Day 5, Friday, June Oneth

Nanaimo Boat Basin We left Ganges early to be at Dodd Narrows (30 miles distant) at slack water. Our early departure meant that we had to avoid the strong currents in Trincomali Channel coming through the various passes from the Straits of Georgia. We always pretend that we can actually estimate the tides and current and use them to our advantage. It is the only way we get Windwalker to agree to long passages under power. Even with her little marinized Kubota tractor engine chugging at top speed, we arrived 40 minutes after the slack. The rule of thumb is that if the current is 1/3 of your hull speed, you’re good to go. The estimated 3-knot current was above our limit, but the pass is very short and the current was with us; Windwalker swept through at the exhilarating (top) speed of 9.3 knots. We were spit out into Northumberland Channel headed for Nanaimo, where we found the boat basin filled with an in-the-water-boat show. The Gods of Moorage must have liked the fact that we have a Canadian boat: we were assigned the last available spot. ‘Filled up on diesel and were happy we only needed 18 gallons at $4.40 a gallon. It won’t get cheaper as we go north.

However, we will be not going north for a few days. Windwalker and crew had a change of plans when Doug returned a phone message from the Winslow Clinic. When he had a mole removed from his back in early May, he told the doctor we were leaving town for four months and he would need to know right away if there was a problem. Three weeks later, someone decided there was a problem. He made an appointment for June 13th. Our house is about three miles from the clinic. Our boat is now about 130 miles from the clinic…. to say nothing of a pesky customs clearance where the US authorities would not allow our six cans of chili back into the country. It seemed logical to head north to Port McNeil on the north end of Vancouver Island where we thought Doug could get transportation to Victoria. After investigating, we discovered that people up-island are not very interested in getting to Victoria and vice versa.

We finally decided to muss around in the Gulf Islands for a week, return to Nanaimo on the 11th, and have Doug take BC Greyhound and the Victoria Clipper back home. It made more sense than Kenmore Air for $616 from Port McNeil, to say nothing of the challenging trip from Kenmore to Bainbridge. While we were still in Nanaimo, we went on an explore to find the bus station which is fittingly housed at the back of an elderly
Windwalker at Montague Marie Park Howard Johnson Motel. No one does elderly motels quite like coastal BC. I think part of the movie Fargo was filmed there. The cast stayed.

So, oh darn. Here we are stuck in one of our favorite areas for a week. We know that you’re reading this hoping for glaciers and polar bears. We will get there…..

Two nights at the Nanaimo Port Authority: showers—10, laundry—10, ice cream--8.9
and then a motor across the bay to anchor off of Newcastle Island Provincial Park. Eventually, Windwalker found her way back through Dodd Narrow (10 minutes before slack water this time) and south to Montague Harbor Marine Park in the Gulf Islands where we looked for the gentleman who had helped with the buoy lasso in Reid Harbor. He must have gone on ahead.

The small marina at the other end of the bay offers ice cream—9.2, and books: The Accidental Airline, the story of the Queen Charlotte Island Airlines made its way onboard.

Thursday, June 7th Underway for Musgrave Landing, a small gov wharf on the southwest side of Saltspring Island. I’m skipping the stories of the 13 other times we’ve been in these places. I know that you have that sock drawer to organize.

The only other boat on the dock at Musgrave was a Great Lakes 32 with an elderly gentleman sitting under the enclosure on the stern. I thought it bordering on rude when he did not offer to take a line (common practice in this part of the world, but not in Alaska, I’m told), but decided that he might be miffed that we were disturbing his solitude. Not the case. He and his equally elderly wife were napping before their departure for their homeport of Sidney. A couple who were staying at one of the houses on the point, came down with their Schnauzer to chat for a while. We put our 25 dollars in the box at the head of the pier and settled down to enjoy the view, the silence, and the clearing skies.

“Look at those two old boats coming around the point. Very unusual. The first one looks like a pirate ship.”

“They have a lot of little orange-clad people on board. ‘Might be a training cruise.”

“It looks like they are coming in here.”

So began our time with Duen, Passing Cloud, and A Fine Madness. The view improved, the silence was replaced with the chatter of kids, and the skies continued to clear. We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

Chronicle I June 1, 2007

2007-06-14T14:06:00.000-07:00

Killer whales, an eight-foot inflatable, a 3.5 hp Tohatsu outboard, and two old people. Day 3: Windwalker was on a buoy in Reid Harbor, Stuart Island (in the San Juans) and we decided to take our new motor and almost-new dinghy (Taku and Ratty II, respectively) for an explore. We putzed around the southeast end of the island and then west into Prevost Harbor, enjoying memories. Prevost Harbor is about half way around the six-mile island, so Doug suggested we keep heading west and circumnavigate the island.. My response: Turn Point in my DINGHY??? Turn Point gets it’s name because The Current Turns there. Swirling. Moving quickly. We had been carefully reading the tide and current tables, so we knew there was a very small tidal exchange. My worrisome-don’t-do-anything-fun-or-risky guardian angle told me it would be fine. It was. I took some pictures of the lighthouse. We rounded the point and started heading south. Boats ahead of us bobbing around with people on deck. A small Boston Whaler full of people with huge cameras. What are they watching? What planet am I from?

A pod of 3, 6,…I don’t know…. killer whales surfaced just south of us, close to shore. It is unlawful to come within 1,000 yards of them, but someone forgot to tell the whales. They were closer; MUCH CLOSER. We steered past them and headed out to sea. More whales to the south, heading north. HOW WILL THEY KNOW WE’RE HERE??? You get to imagine Doug’s expression and tone of voice: They’ll hear the motor. Another pod passed, and Doug cut the motor. Taku has a teacup-sized internal gas tank; this is a new experience for us. He had already stopped twice on the explore for lack of nourishment; Doug didn’t want to be without power (such as it is) if we really needed it. So we bobbed and watched and listened. Listening was the best. Killer whales don’t W00SH. They certainly don’t snort. They have their own killer whale sounds that don’t translate. Between listening, watching them breech, and being concerned about one coming up under Ratty II, I didn’t even bother with the camera, or even to try to count them. The pod quickly traveled northwest and we slowly traveled southeast back to Reid Harbor.

That was the most exciting part of our trip so far, so if you have socks to sort, you can check back in a few days. Otherwise, read on…..

Day 1:

We left Eagle Harbor at o’dark hundred on Monday, May 28th headed for Port Townsend, about 3 hours into an outgoing tide. Coming into the boat basin at Port Townsend, Windwalker only had about a foot of water under her not-so-dainty keel at one point. Doug has more gray hair and a clean pair of Levis.

Bill Turner was working on his boat, Ave Maria, in the boatyard at PT, so we walked over to supervise. He took us to meet The Wells Grey and Albert, her skipper and benefactor. The Wells Grey is a former B.C. Department of Forestry vessel what we saw 20 or 30 years ago in Canada and then again in the PT boatyard about 3 years ago. Over the last few years, Albert, her most recent owner, has been lavishing his personal fortune, extensive skill and design talents on this grand vessel; the result is lovely.

Day 2: We left early to avoid the minus tide at the entrance to the boat basin and headed for Reid Harbor where we had planned to meet our Liberty Bay Marina dock-mates Mark, Pam, and Mitzie The Dog on Kittiwake. They were vacationing in the San Juans with their cruising buddies Jackie and Dennis aboard Yachts of Fun, the boat Windwalker share’s her slip with in Poulsbo. So here were all were, a little bit of Kitsap County in the middle of Island County. Only the scenery was better--except for the osprey that had scooped up a little bird and circled and circled and circled over our boats with little bird crying and imploring us to save him. We were distressed that we couldn’t help. Actually, we were irritated that the osprey did not dispatch Little Bird immediately. Mark and I took Mitzie ashore and talked to the owner of a unique east coat lobster boat. Another happily married man whose boat is surely his
mistress.

Day 3: …addendum to first page…

Coming into Reid Harbor, we had another “first”. After +30 years of boating, we’re sill having “firsts”. We were approaching a mooring buoy when a fellow in an inflatable motored over and asked if he could take my line and thread it though the ring on the buoy for me. “Oh no. I would prefer to lean out over the lifeline holding onto the boat hook with the line in my teeth, hook the ring, pull the chain up far enough for me to get the line through the ring, bring the line back to the boat, and secure it around the cleat while we are still moving through the water. Thanks for asking, though.” I accepted his offer; he declined our offer to follow us to Alaska.

Day 4: Leisurely (see DEPARTURE NOTE below) 0930 departure for Bedwell Harbor on South Pender Island to clear customs. Our charting program had been napping on the way to Stuart Island two day before and now decided to go into REM sleep. I had resigned myself to months of paper charts and the hand- held GPS, having forgotten that Doug had Extensive Navy Training. Equipment failure: Open the equipment door and slam it shut. ‘Works fine. Mr. Chart Plotter does not live a drawer, but you get the idea.

DEPARTURE NOTE: “I’ll go forward and slip the line on the buoy.” Unbeknownst to us, the buoy chain had had its way with the mooring line during the night and they were reluctant to part. Ratty and I did what needed to be done. The chain promised to write. Another summer romance brought to an end.

We spent the evening at Ganges on Saltspring Island where we bought legal Canadian fruit and veggies and expensive moorage. Marina shower rating: 3 on a scale of 10. Ganges is still artsy, yuppified and expensive. The tourists love it. We felt right at home.

There seems to be some dealy, doesn't there?

2007-06-13T18:27:00.002-07:00

June 13

We're relying on BC snail mail and advertised but apparently non-existant wireless systems at public libraries (Nanaimo) to help us fill this space. Don't give up. Evenutally, stories will appear. J&D and Windwalker

May 20, 2007

2007-05-23T18:41:00.000-07:00

Windwalker left her Liberty Bay moorage at 1100 hours and headed north through Agate Passage, and then….south. This does not look like Alaska. This looks like Eagle Harbor. Due to medical issues related to a condition called Aging, our departure was delayed. Since we had sublet our moorage, we needed to find a temporary home. We are now planning to leave at o’dark hundred on May 28th, catching the outgoing tide as we head north....to Port Townsend. We DO hope to go even further north in the coming days, weeks, and months. Nothing happens quickly at 6 knots.

Pre-Alaska

2007-04-16T19:21:00.000-07:00

Hello to our friends and family! Next month we are headed off to Alaska on our sailboat. Our daughter was kind enough to put together this blog so that we can share our adventures with all of you.
It has been our dream for many years to travel to Alaska by sailboat, and knowing that it causes our daughter worry (who caused us grief for at least 15 years) makes it all the more worthwhile.

We plan to leave around May 10th and return in September.

Stay tuned for more!