Salmon!

The generous folks at Pierre's Echo Bay Marina came by a number of salmon today.  Like more than 50.  Buckets of fish, buckets of guts.  We wandered down the dock expecting happy hour drinks in the tent.  We had our cocktails in hand.  Kristin was even in her cocktail dress, freshly showered no less.  But we didn't make it to the tent.  Kristin was shanghaied into slaughtering duty.  In exchange for the labor, or maybe because we were standing there, we got two beautiful fish.  Not an hour later we had pan seared salmon steaks, fresh bread, and a tomato salad.  Oh yeah, and Talina and Megan gave us a nice Oregon Pinot as a going away gift, and its time had come.  What a meal!

Me and my friend the cat

The other night we were listening to Louden Wainright III, and we paused the iPod to go to bed.  At stupid early, Haskell was roaming around the boat and unpaused the iPod.  We woke with a start to Louden's strained crooning cry "Me and my friend the cat".  Did you?  Why did?  Wha?  Did Haskell?  What time is it?  Grrr.  But Haskell has come a long way since puking in the v-berth whenever it got rocky.  After we fed him crab he regained his love of life.  Now he kills string again.  Today he enjoyed Ling Cod for lunch, and had both raw and cooked salmon for dinner.  He does alright.

The Broughtons

Ok, so these islands are pretty much kayak heaven.  No not pretty much.  These islands are literally Kayak Heaven.  Kayak St. Peter probably greets you in Port McNeill and takes you out in a water taxi.  Like the River Styx but you end up in Kayak Heaven not the usual Hell.  Now the same thing that makes a kayaker smile may make a sailor frown.  Numerous submerged rocks in the channel.  Confusing navigation ("Wait, what island is that again?").  But we have a folding double kayak on board, to enjoy the best of both worlds.

We entered the Broughtons via the Knight Inlet and anchored for the night in Lagoon Cove.  The anchorage was lovely, but the local services available at Lagoon Cove Marina were not targeted at outsiders.  And as people who prefer anchoring I guess we were outsiders.  Its the first time in this lovely country we've been made to feel unwelcome, but the marina is run by a Portlander, so I suppose its a taste of our own medicine.  The anchorage had no crabs, but we did catch one hell of a starfish.  As a consolation prize we ate sole, and watched the salmon jump and the eagles swoop.

The next day we headed out in rain and light fog to anchor near an old First Peoples village (Mamalilliculla).  The anchorage was perfect.  The village was mysterious in the mist.  We landed on a shell beach created by thousands of years of cast off clam shells, though most of the more recent debris included glass and crockery.  Scrambling up a hillside we came upon the ruins of a totem pole.  Further on through bramble 8 feet high we found the remains of semi-modern homes and a giant log archway.  I've not been able to find more information about the site, but the only signs of recent activity come from other boaters.

The rain passed and the next day we were sunning ourselves again.  We kayaked around the small islands in the area.  Kristin got in some quality yoga time out on a rock.  I caught some rockfish and a nice big Kelp Greenling.  And then we did laundry.

Laundry out there means one of two things: 10$ a load to use a marina's machines, or a bucket and plunger.  We've done both.  The sun dried the clothes well, but I think the evening mist came on fast and they were still a little wet at 9pm.  So we strung them up in the cabin on spectra line.  No chance of it breaking under the strain, and I hate it when laundry lines stretch.  I am sure spectra is the future of line drying your clothes.

But our weather luck didn't hold and the next day it was pouring again.  I fixed the bilge pump. Kristin read.  Finally we decided to head out into the rain.  We carefully navigated between the thousands of islands up to Echo Bay.  On the way we passed the Fox Group of islands.  Another kayaking wonderland.  It would take years.  The mind boggles.

Echo Bay is now Pierre's Echo Bay and though we didn't know it, we pulled in just 15 minutes before the big pot luck pig roast.  Well it was Saturday night after all, and what else would you do?  We were excused from bringing a dish by our lateness which is good because we are down to nuts and dried beans.  I think we have a tin of herring somewhere...  The pig roast scene was a bit like summer camp but for old rich boaters.  The crowd has thinned in the Broughtons and the boaters are older and their boats bigger.  Perhaps you need a lot of time off to make it up here?  Pierre and Tove kept us all entertained with pig slaughtering, toasts, chants and party prizes.

At the roast we met Mike and Jeanne, who cruised up here January to October.  In the morning Mike took me out fishing in the marina's boat.  We caught a billion rockfish, keeping the limit (2), and Mike caught a Ling Cod.  Incredibly generous, Mike gave us the Ling, showing me how to fillet one half and helping me through the other.  We had half of of the fish for lunch today.  Delicious.  I guess we'll have to decided if its Ling, Rockfish, or leftover pig for dinner.  As my parents like to say during an excellent meal: "I wonder what the rich folk are eating tonight?".  Tonight we can just peak into our neighbor's boats to see.

Gold Mines, Orcas, Fish and Chips, oh my!

Our last day in Shoal Bay we hiked up the "trail" to the gold mine.  The "trail" was a small creek that rushes down the mountainside, with bits of tape hanging from trees to reassure you that this still is the "trail".  At least it veers off the stream bed and up even more steeply to an incredible lookout point.  We could see our tiny boat down there still safely at anchor.

Onward still we found the gold mine.  True to its name, it was a classic mine shaft with a flat floor and crossbeam supports.  We had been warned to bring our head lamps, so we went in as far as we dared.  The floor was undermined and a shaft went down beyond the reach of our meager LED light. On the way down we passed our lights on to another couple from a boat in the harbour (the boat is "forty two", I suspect they know the answer to a question) who were hiking up.  When we later saw them again it was revealed that he had worked in mining for 40 years.  The mine ceiling was just rock but the floor had been built up and was now eroding.  One day an unlucky visitor will do some involuntary spelunking.  Yikes!

We left the next day to buy charts at Blind Bay (we are buying them as we need them) and then on through Greene Point and Whirlpool rapids.  We dropped the hook for the night in Forward Bay, along with 14 other boats.  The next morning we left at too damn early to catch the tide.  Around the corner, still in the wash from Whirlpool rapids I saw a dolphi... no that's big, real big, Orca!  Kristin look look Orca!  She saw it as well, just rolling along, probably munching on a cute seal or something.  Magnificent creature.  Haskell didn't see it though.

Our trip through the Sunderland Channel and notorious Johnstone Strait was fairly smooth, and we are now awaiting fish and chips at the Red Shoe Restaurant in the Port Harvey Marine Resort.  Not to denigrate this lovely place in any way, but lest you get the wrong idea, it is something of a 2 story floating double wide at the end of a back channel.  It is most certainly a civilized way to wait for the slack tide in Chatham Channel.

Desolation Sound and Beyond

Before we left Nanaimo, we had a wonderful time with Sam's dad Jim (or Jelle, which is harder to pronounce).  He gave of his time generously, taking us to hot tubs and old growth forests.  Kristin thought she had died and gone to heaven.  Not only did the summer finally arrive that day, but giant tubs of hot water (this one surround with gardens planted in faux rock) as well.  Everything she ever wanted.

We set out the next day into strong winds from the southeast.  We had the big jib hanked on so I had to go forward and put our working jib on.  It was an adventure, kneeling on the foredeck as it pitched about.  When it pitched up I was light enough to slide back and forth on deck from the rolling action.  It wore out the tops of my feet.  Non-skid?  Exfoliant.  Once we got the jib up we were able to reach downwind with just the jib and mizzen at over 5 knots. It was an awesome sail down big waves all the way to our next destination, False Bay on Lasqueti Island.  We anchored safely.  We had no cell or Kindle service, but we did notice the local community wireless project.  This is not like a wireless project in Portland, where everyone has DSL or Cable anyway.  These folks have a wireless point to point link with Vancouver Island and are bringing internet service to a place that would otherwise be without.  They also raised their green flag, bragging on the login page that the service was powered exclusively by solar, micro-hydro, and wind power.  We didn't use it, ours was a short stay.

From Lasqueti we had planned to head to Campbell River, a long trip with strong currents to contend with at the end.  We talked it over and felt it better to head to Lund instead, a trip with more islands and scenery.  Our plan was to avoid Desolation Sound altogether, making fast progress instead toward the Broughton Islands.  Lund was a marvelous surprise.  Scenic beyond belief, but also affordable and well stocked.  I suggest a visit, and the directions are simple: take highway 101 north until it stops.

The harbour master was as helpful and friendly as it is possible to be.  He pointed out a middle way for us, a quick trip through Desolation Sound on a fairly direct back channel to the Broughtons.  The next day we sailed away, though at the end of the favorable tide we had to motor the rest of the way.  We pulled into Teakerne Arm to see if the anchorage by the waterfall was workable.  It was a tight fit, we had to pull alongside one boat, and turn sharply along a cliff to then be pointing out the right way to be away from our neighbor and close to our stern tie.  We had dropped the hook in 30 feet, were in 20 feet, and were less than 10 feet from the shore.  Yikes!  If we had dropped the hook further out we'd be in 60, 80, 150 feet in no time.  Floating over a cliff!

The waterfall pours into the sound from a lake above.  The stream from the lake is perhaps 100 yards long, and drops at least 50 yards there at the end.  The lake was an amazing surprise, fringed in cliffs with scraggly Doug Fir and Madrone clinging to the sides; deep and warm!  There were two giggling skinny dippers there when we arrived, and it seemed the least awkward thing to do was to just join them.  Summer was no where to be found a few short days ago, and there I was scratching my mosquito bites, nursing a sunburn, and skinny dipping.

Our next stop presented us with a problem.  The channel ahead contained 5 notorious rapids, places where the tide rushes through a constriction in a channel.  The trick to crossing safely is timing, doing it on a small tide near or at slack water.  But our trusty tide book, purchased in Astoria and covering the entire west coast, turned out to be a little light on information for the back channels we were in.  We needed the Canadian Tide Tables, vol. 6.  We didn't have it.  I rowed over to our neighbors and they invited me in and went over the tides.  We'd make it through Yuculta Rapids the next day, and then tie up in Big Bay where a store sells the book.  Because we were on a small tide and there at the right time, the rapids were unimpressive.  The next day, we went through Gillard Passage and Dent Rapids and again they were unimpressive.  I guess I shouldn't complain.  Our friends who transited the rapids at the same time say they have never seen them so calm.  We still have Greene Point and Whirlpool Rapids ahead, and because they are 2 hours apart, we shall have to take them an hour or more before or after slack.  Hopefully our luck will hold.

We've come upon an oasis called Shoal Bay.  I don't know all the details, but there is a bar that seems to be run by whoever has been anchored here long enough to know how the system works.  The system seems to be get a beer from the fridge and mark it next to your boat name.  The bar is also the home of the property owner.  Kristin is behind me now in that "bar" (or more properly living room) taking a yoga class with 5-10 other boaters.  There are plentiful crabs in the bay, free reliable wireless, and from the porch I can keep an eye on my boat and the mountains behind.  Its not clear why anyone would ever leave.  But, what else might lie ahead?

The Tilikum

I've been reading John Voss's account of his long trip in a modified dugout canoe.  It is written in that flat style, where totally incredible things are described in a dry matter of fact tone.  It was inspired by and written shortly after Captain Slocum's account of travelling alone around the world, which has that same tone.  Both men had been skippers of cargo carrying clipper ships that had been superceded by boats with engines.  The tiny craft was 10 feet shorter than Slocum's boat and had no keel to boot.  It was considered suicide to take on the ocean at all, and Voss sailed it 40,000 miles.  He knew what he was doing though.  He decked it over, and used a combination of sail plan and sea anchor to ride safely through the worst weather.  His account provided guidance to future sailors, experience that can only be won by trying.  Read the account; make it a double header and read Slocum's book if you haven't.

I looked at the images of his boat and noticed that the credits were to the museum in Victoria.  We had just walked by that museum earlier that day.  The next day we didn't have time to make it the museum, but at night we stopped and peered in the windows.  There she was, visible from the front door.  A guy walked up and asked us what we were doing.  "Just gazing at the Tilikum".  "Oh, do you want to go in and see it?".  "Uh, yes".  The fellow ran the museum and was coming in after hours to do some work.  What luck.  We talked about Voss and touched the boat.  What a thing.  What a time to have been alive.

The Gulf Islands

We've traveled through the Gulf islands now, the Canadian islands that are next to the San Juan islands in the U.S.  We set out from Victoria under sail, and with the wind on our nose and the tide at our back we were sailing over ground at up to 9 knots.  It was awesome.  Then we turned the corner and entered a back eddy.  And the wind died.  And we struggled to go forward at all.  Eventually we turned the motor on and proceeded to Sidney Spit.  It takes patience to get somewhere under sail in here.  The next day we motored a short distance to Portland Island.  It wasn't our destination, but it looked too lovely to pass up.  It was our first time anchoring in a small bay and tying our stern to shore.  In the morning we could see the bottom right there off our stern, but with both sides secured we stayed in deep water.

Our next stop was Ganges, on Saltspring island.  We managed to sail that vast majority of that trip, light wind at first and then building.  We sailed dead downwind under jib alone into the crowded harbour.  The guide book says that in summer you can walk across the bay on the decks of anchored boats.  We tied to the marina, which like all marinas up here cost too much.  The town is a funky tourist town with art galleries and the like.  We needed the town for two pressing reasons: charts for our next trip and a working alternator.  They had no alternators for us, and the chart place would not be open till the next morning.  I took our alternator apart and finally removed the stupid capacitor that the previous owner had installed.  Luck was with us and the alternator worked again.

The next morning we wanted to be in Active Pass at slack tide, but the chart store didn't open until 9:30am.  It was a race.  We pulled the boat into the public dock closest to the chart store and ran in, bought three charts and ran back out.  We were in Active Pass right at slack tide, but still the currents flowed both ways strongly.  It was a thrilling ride, a tiny cliff walled channel between two islands.  The big ferries go through and several did.  As we entered the channel down the middle, a big one turned the corner and came into view.  We steered for shore and bit our nails, but we were easily out of its way.  Later in the day the wind picked up and we sailed into Nanaimo, rounding a tiny island topped with a lighthouse.

Nanaimo is the next biggest city after Victoria, and marks the last busy port on our trip.  From here on out we hope to be in rural, out of the way spots.  It will be nice to escape the megayachts.  Nanaimo is a cute town blessed with an amazing island and marine park (Newcastle Island) just off its shores.  We are anchored along side the park, in easy rowing distance of the Dinghy Dock Pub, which in defiance of all logic has the best beer prices we've found in Canada.  Bottoms up!

Hello Canada!

We pulled into the customs dock in the inner harbour of Victoria.  That's right, harbour is spelled with a U, so there.  The dock is tiny, and in terrible shape.  Is this where we belong?  Two very nice customs officers came down to meet us and made us feel even stranger when they didn't know the code to get onto the dock, or very much about boats.  Do people visit this town?  It looks busy enough.  They didn't care about Haskell at all.  "Does he have rabies?" - "No" - "Well, ok then".

We cleared customs without a hitch, they didn't even want to see the booze.  They were down there without us for a few minutes; but from how things looked when we got down, I think they just pet Haskell.  We called for a slip and were directed to F dock.  F dock is directly underneath the Empress Hotel and the Parliament building.  Front row seats man.  They cost $50 a night, but what a dazzling sight this town is.

We are trying to find the place with cheap beer in town, so far no luck.  You'll be the first to know when we find it.

Goodbye, Washington

We finished the weekend out in Port Townsend so that we could arrive in Victoria on a Monday.  We toured Fort Worden, an absurd construction meant to house big guns to protect the Puget Sound.  The guns were never used.  Shortly after they were installed they were instead sent to Europe for World War I.  The gun installations along the hill seem to have been designed by a military naked mole rat during a fever dream.  Sections are self similar, but slowly morph to suit the landscape.  After a few miles you forget where you are, and the concrete structures start to seem almost motivated, as if they served some natural purpose.

We crossed back through outer Port Townsend returning from Fort Worden and met a cast of characters.  The wonderful old Victorian houses range from the immaculately painted and landscaped to the leaning back into nature variety.  Deer graze happily on yards, and when you approach they assume you just want to share in their salad.  Speaking of Victorian's, we met one in full period dress including a cruel looking corset.  She was the proud owner of a DeLorean and got the joke when I asked her if that is where she came from.  What a town!

We met a man named Ray in his front yard as he was putting a crab pot around the remains of his fig tree.  A momma deer and 2 fawns share his lawn full time and so he needs to take precautions.  Ray presented us with an emotional challenge: he missed his big old hairy black cat and would love a new one to hang out with.  They'd spend time indoors and out, and there would be plenty of things to smell, toy with, and kill.  Our cat Haskell would be so much happier there.  We proposed the idea and Ray agreed.  We knew we wanted to find a home for Haskell but hoped we wouldn't succeed.  Now here it was, perfect in every way.  We both choked up.  The boat would be empty without him.  We couldn't do it.  The next day we called Ray, "Sorry, we can't bear to part with him".  Luckily we got his machine so the call wasn't too hard.

Haskell in the meantime has started to adjust, hanging out on deck during the day and even coming out while we are under way.  He has tasted some of the rewards of his new life:  new smells, sights, crab, fish flopping around the cockpit while I try to get the hook out and so on.  He had fresh sushi when I cleaned a pair of Kelp Greenling in the cockpit the other day.  He still gets quiet and low when the boat rocks a lot though.  Sorry dude, you are stuck with us.

We left Port Townsend Monday at 8:30 am and retraced our steps back to Dungeness Spit, and then across the strait to Victoria, B.C.  We arrived at 4:30 pm, but not before U.S. Border Patrol drove out to make sure they wanted us leaving the country.  Their concern is touching.  I'll have to remember to send them a fruit basket.

Port Townsend

This is one hell of a boat town.  The services here for sailboats are amazing.  It is host to a world class sail loft, riggers, boat yards, chandleries, tradesmen, and so on.  Where else would you find a local bronze forge as well as a full line of Davey and Company bronze? I have drooled over sketches online of things that are on shelves in Port Townsend.

We arrived at Point Hudson marina and shortly thereafter met Jon.  We headed downtown to drink at the Sirens, which overlooks the bay from the back deck of an old brick waterfront building.  The next day Caitlin arrived and we had a full boat with Caitlin and Kristin in the v-berth, Jon strung between the masts in his hammock tent and me on the deck in a sleeping back and thermarest.  We kind of stuck out in the posh marina.  We were tied up next to Suva, an incredible teak yacht.  Though we stood out everyone was very nice.  Brian Toss said that Madrone was the most reasonable boat in the marina.  I think it was a complement.  We later moved to the boat haven, a much larger marina with more plain boats but still a dazzling array.  Marina fees were the same both places, 1$ a foot.  Ouch.

Jon left and Ryan arrived.  We watched the fireworks display over Fort Worden.  It was many miles away, and it was almost more fun to watch the expanse of other displays that spread out over the sound.  The next day Ryan left early, leaving behind a big bottle of Kraken rum.  Uh oh.  Then Caitlin left, taking with her various chores to do for us.  Nicest sister ever.  It was great to see everyone and we had a blast.

In Neah Bay the diesel became harder to start.  It took longer and the cranking was more anemic.  Today I replaced some undersized wire and discovered a wire that had been so overloaded that it melted its insulation.  I suspect my negative starting battery line became too resistive and the negative return found a creative path through a wire that was never meant to do such duty.  Now I have nice big clean wires to the starter and it turns over better than ever.  Its amazing the trouble that a good shaking up at sea can reveal!

Kristin went to Hasse Sails to talk about adding reef points to our mizzen and jib.  They weren't just helpful, they were falling over themselves to be helpful.  Its an amazing place filled with people who love what they do.  Get your sails there, you will not regret it.  With the extra help we got from them we have already planned out both reef points and marked the mizzen up.  We have all the parts needed, so it is just a matter of doing the work now.  I can't wait, I'll practically be begging for 40 knot winds.

We have a few chores left, but soon we should be headed to our first international destination: the mysterious, exotic Canada.

The Strait of Juan de Fuca

Neah Bay is an amazing place, but soon we wanted to move on.  We'll miss the incredible general store, and the open safe anchorage. But we probably wont miss the constant sound of fireworks, and the big piles of trash from setting them off along the beach.  We also wont miss the us vs. them mentality of the town.  My advice to the visitor is to ask more than one person what something costs, if something is available, or if something is allowed.  I didn't always get a strait answer, and it seems race may be involved.  Maybe they are still mad that all the vegans gave them a hard time for hunting whales.  For once I am with the vegans.

We motored out of the bay and were able to raise sails at once.  We made many miles at 4 knots on a broad reach.  It was the sailing we've dreamed about but never done: a tack that lasts more than an hour.  We were headed for Pillar Point to anchor for the night.  We got there at the end of the flood tide and the beginning of a lot more wind.  The mellow day changed fast when I felt like the anchorage wasn't safe.  All of a sudden we were in for a long trip to Port Angeles with a lot of wind behind us and an ebb tide.  We had 4-5 foot breaking seas around us.  We motored to make good time and got in at 10 pm as the light faded and we picked our way past buoys and around anchored tankers.

Port Angeles is not a pretty town, there is no way around it.  The harbor greets you with smoke stacks billowing great clouds into the sky.  But it has a nice snug harbor full of cool boats.  I think they pull in for the affordable moorage in between adventures.  Most of the boats looked capable, cared for, and tested by experience.  The night after we pulled in there was a gale that made conditions rough in the strait, and we were happy to be tied to a pier.  We met folks from Ubiquity, a pretty Pacific Seacraft who were bringing it down to Portland.  They took us to the Peak Brewpub, which makes great beer and has excellent guest taps.  Don't pass through Port Angeles without going.

We had a quest in town, find a 1/2 inch hose barb debris filter for our water tank.  All the heavy sloshing around at sea stirred up some strange things.  We figured that we'd need to cobble a solution out of different parts.  We also needed a wireless usb device and a digital camera.  We walked through strip mall after strip mall and were nearly run down numerous times.  City workers were tearing up all of the sidewalks to improve them.  I suspect they had advance notice there would be pedestrians and they were trying get everything ready for us.  They failed.  But our spirits were lifted by Swain's, voted best hardware store in the county, which carries a  whole line of Shurflo items, including the exact part we needed.

We installed the filter and headed for Dungeness Spit.  The was no wind to speak of so we motored.  The spit is caused by the Dungeness River dumping silt, and for whatever reason it creates a stable spit of sand 5 miles long.  It grows 30 feet or more a year.  We anchored behind the safety of the spit.  I rowed over to the spit and walked out to the lighthouse.  The terrain was just like an ocean shore: tidal pool follwed by driftwood followed by dune, only then it was driftwood, tidal pool and ocean shore all over again on the other side.  At the lighthouse I expected signs from the Coast Guard saying "keep out".  Imagine my shock to find an oasis: lush, well kept green grass with a family wandering the grounds and signs saying "welcome, public tours".  There is a 630 foot deep well at the lighthouse, and it creates a freshwater stream and pond, and allows for a sudden change in vegetation.  The lighthouse is kept by volunteers.  Members sign up to stay out there for a week and take visitors on a tour.  I think it would be an amazing experience, perhaps best in rough weather.

I've been wanting to fish and crab all along the trip, but my first chance was in Dungeness Spit.  I tried a bottom jig and caught dogfish, a kind of shark.  I guess these are tasty if you soak them in cold water and vinegar overnight.  Mine threw the hook and got away, so it remains untested.  Then I tried the crabhawk, a tiny crab pot that can be cast using a stout rod.  We don't have room for real crab pots so even though it seemed unlikely to work, I went for it.  I caught a little female right away, and 2 large males in short order.  We boiled the males in seawater and had them with pasta.  Fantastic.  The next night I got 2 more.  They tasted even better.  Small boaters take note!

I had a shock one morning out there as I was using the head - I looked out the window and saw a pistol!  Some guys with guns were grabbing our boat!  The feds!  It was border patrol and as I was naked,Kristin went out to talk to them.  I got dressed and joined her.  They were polite, checked our papers and moved on.  They try to keep things on the up and up, but I can't imagine a more porous border than the complex coastline of Washington and British Columbia.  Later in Port Townsend we met boaters from Louisiana who pulled in and got some food before clearing customs.  They didn't even know that they weren't supposed to.

It was time to go meet our friends in Port Townsend so we pulled up anchor reluctantly.  Light winds had us sailing the first 8 miles, but we had a schedule to keep so we motored through max flood around Point Wilson en route to Port Townsend.  Around the point we were clocked going 12 knots!  The boat would be going 5.5 knots without the help from the tide.  Should we have turned around, we would have been hard pressed to do more than keep our position.  Around the corner we tied up to a slip in the Point Hudson marina and started to clean up and make ready for guests.