The English sailors used to talk about sailing to the tropics by giving the instructions, “Head south until the butter melts.”  For us, moss seems more appropriate.  Especially as we start our southerly leg.

I’m writing this from the northern most harbor we will sail to for many years.  From this point on, it’s going to be a slow southerly drift to the tropics and beyond.  The harbor is called Bull Harbor and it sits off the northeastern tip of Vancouver Island on an island called Hope Island.  Bull Harbor used to be an old Coast Guard station, but it’s long been abandoned leaving the island to the few natives who live here.  We’ve been trapped here for almost 5 days waiting for fair weather to round Cape Scott.  The winds have been howling for days.

But it is a great place to watch for good weather conditions and prepare for rounding Cape Scott and heading south.  More about Bull Harbor later, there are a few things that happened in-between Seattle and here that I want to tell you about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We left Seattle on May 15^th and headed to Port Townsend to meet up with some friends on their boat.  Prior to this, there was an impromptu going-away barbeque on the beach where dozens of people came to see us off. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sendoff our friend’s gave us made it tough to leave.  Much to our surprise, some of them still wanted to see our ugly mugs a while longer and accompany us part way.  Tuck took his boat “Annie” with Nancy and Jello (their black lab) as crew and met us in Port Townsend.   Suzanne took the long drive via ferry and met all of us together for one last night of fun.

After relaxing in Port Townsend, and letting the idea that we finally left the dock sink in.  We starting looking at where to go on our trip north.  The following chart shows the south eastern places we visited after Port Townsend:  Roche Harbor, James Bay, Nanaimo, and False Bay (indicated with red dots, you have to squint really hard to see them, or just click on the image to expand it).

 

We crossed the Strait of Juan de Fuca from Port Townsend to Roche Harbor, bouncing and rolling, as is customary for the Strait.  About half-way across, Sherrell spotted a puffin flying just above the water’s surface, right past our boat.  A pretty rare sight around here, but they have a protected breading ground on Protection Island out in the Strait.   The little guy just went motoring on by us without even saying “Hey, look at me, I’m a puffin.  You never see puffins around here do you?  Well, sucker, check me out!”

Sherrell had never been to Roche Harbor, so we thought it would make a nice place to stop and get things organized on the boat.  As typical with any long term departure from “civilization” you’re never quite finished.  Something about the human psyche I suppose.  Sherrell and I have learned that the best way to deal with departure delays, is to just buy everything you think you’ll need to finish your projects and then finish them as you go.  Of course, the projects critical to operating the boat were completed, but about 80% of the work you do on a boat is trying to make life as comfortable as possible.  At some point, you just have to go.

So in Roche Harbor, we organized several piles of hardware.  Everything was rolling around loose and driving us crazy.  Now was the time to find a space for our new spare manual bilge pump, the 180’ of spectra line for the lazy jacks we are planning to make, the galley pump rebuild kit… oh, the list goes on and on like this.  It amazes me the boat still floats.

 

“Sarana” anchored in Roche Harbor

While in Roche Harbor we had cellular coverage, so we sent out a few last minute email messages and said a few more goodbyes.   We also went ashore and explored some of the craziness the locals were up to.

Someone had taken a large field and converted it into an art gallery.  This was no small, country bumpkin showcase of art.  It was a serious undertaking with some massive sculptures and very creative designs.  They were also all for sale, ranging from $800 to $42,000 – outside our meager cruising budget. 

One piece intrigued us to take a closer look.  As you approached you saw the back of an easel with a canvas painting.  Walking around to see the painting, you realized you were suckered by a mirror.  I took the opportunity to make a portrait of a self portrait.  I know—cheesy

 

After getting piles of our crap sorted out on the boat, we felt ready to cross into Canada and start our trip.  We left early hoping to check in at Bedwell Harbour then travel north to a bay we hadn’t been to before. 

The weather was ridiculously nice.  This time last year, we had hail and 20 to 25 knots of wind.  Now we were baking in the sun with no wind.  We rounded Turn Point lighthouse while motoring through the current.  Orcas are often spotted around here, and we kept an eye on the whale watching boats to see where they were going, but nada.

Turn Point marks the most Northern point of the US San Juan Islands.

 

After clearing customs, we bolted for James Bay on Prevost Island.  We had always passed it by on previous trips thru the Gulf Island, since it seemed too exposed to the direction of the prevailing Northwest winds.  But with the ridiculously good weather holding out, we felt safe to give it a try.  There’s a small state park there and it provides a great view of the other islands in the area.

But one of the things I don’t like about the anchorages in this area, is crab traps.  My main gripe is when people dump these things in the middle of an anchorage (always in the middle of the best spot too) and leave them for boaters to deal with.  The one in our anchorage had an extra 100’ of rope tied to it.  So in the middle of the night, it silently drifted over to our anchor chain and wrapped itself around us. 

We launched the dinghy to remove the pot, only to find a massive amount of kelp and weeds growing on this abandoned trap.  As I was trying to unwind it, another boater motored over to help.  For some reason he sensed the problem was that I was rowing and not motoring.  He motored up, smiling and announced he had a motor and proceeded to grab the bow line on my dinghy and motor away at full speed.  I tried telling him the trap is still tangled, but he seemed too excited by the prospect of dragging me around in circles, complete with our anchor chain.  I held on tight as the line on the trap pulled taut and brought his speeding dinghy to an abrupt halt.  He then helpfully informed me that the trap was wrapped around my anchor chain.  I thanked him as we sprang back towards the boat.  With the help of Sherrell’s view from above and a sharp knife, I managed to unwind the trap.

My new friend excitedly fired up his little motor again.  Together we pulled up what seemed like miles of rope before we got to the cage with a dead crab in it.  You can see in the photo the big pile of green gunk attached to the line.  I felt like tearing the cage apart, and throwing it up on shore, but the guy helping me didn’t share my opinions about crab traps and insisted that we just move it.  He floored his motor again, and hauled his strange tow to the other side of the anchorage...stupid crap traps.

We spent a couple of days relaxing in the nice weather before heading to Nanaimo.  We hiked all over the island and thought about the upcoming trip.  The boat still wasn’t quite organized and some of the projects we hadn’t finished needed to be addressed.  Nanaimo, we thought, we’ll do it in Nanaimo.

In Nanaimo, there is a great protected area where you can anchor for free and dinghy about a mile across the bay to get to downtown. The anchorage is cool because it is protected from nasty weather by an island that is also a provincial park.  We had the best of both worlds:  head north in the dinghy, and hike around the island trails or head south to downtown.

The park turned out to be huge.  We’ve been to Nanaimo three times, but this is the first time we anchored and went to the park.  Check out the little raccoon we saw roaming around and climbing trees.

 

While in Nanaimo, we knocked off a few of the major projects that had to be done quickly.  We also worked on a few odds and ends trying to sort though the dwindling piles of boating hardware.  I think we made some progress.  We felt good enough to relax another day there and catch the fireworks for “Victoria Day” which, apparently, is only a big deal in Nanaimo.  The view from the anchorage was outstanding.

 

 

We finally left Nanaimo after several days of getting things finished on the boat and buying some fresh veggies.  The route to Desolation Sound requires a long slog up the northern section of the Strait of Georgia.  We had planned to take advantage of the coming low pressure system to give us some southerly winds to push us north.

What we didn’t expect, and neither did our Marine Weather Forecasters, is a full on gale.  We started out the morning by drifting our way north in light winds, while we tried to test out our home-made self steering gear.  But once we were an hour or so out of Nanaimo, the wind started to howl.  We held on tight as the Strait of Georgia is one of the roughest sections of inside waters, due to its very long length.  The waves build quickly and there’s nowhere to hide.

About 3 hours into the gale the waves had built to 5’ to 8’.  Some of the larger waves were closer to 10’.  Because the current was running in strange directions, the waves were really confused.  They were coming at us from all angles.  Steering through them was a tiring and difficult task.    We wallowed and lunged our way towards “False Bay” where there was a small nook that offered some relief from the pounding we were taking.

Steering wildly downwind, running at 7+ knots with only the reefed genoa (we really needed the staysail but we foolishly didn’t have it, or its rigging ready), we managed to jibe perfectly onto a course that took us directly into the bay and out of the storm.  What a relief!  The washing machine of Georgia Strait had left me bruised and tired.  Sherrell was still trying to catch her breath long after we squeezed the boat into a tiny nook and set the anchor.

Although the Strait of Georgia gave us a whooping we wouldn’t soon forget, we still had a lot of tricky sections to navigate along the Eastern coast of Vancouver Island.  We planned to stop at: Squirrel Cove, Cameleon Harbour, Port Neville, Growler Cove, Sointula, Port Hardy, Clam Cove and Bull Harbor (again, you can click on the image to see a larger version).

 

The next day, the brunt of the storm had passed and we kept heading north, arriving in “Squirrel Cove” in the evening.  We had most of the bay to ourselves, only a few fishermen and a couple of Alaska bound cruisers were there.  This bay is extremely well protected and we slept soundly without anymore thought to Georgia Strait.  It was time to start thinking about the rapids.

There are three ways to get thru the narrow, mid-section of the inside passage along Vancouver Island, all of them with dangerous rapids and whirlpools, with current speeds faster than a raging river:  Seymore Narrows, The Yucultas, and Hole in the Wall / Okisollo Upper Rapids.  Our favorite way is Hole in the Wall / Upper Rapids combination.  The route is short and narrow (therefore tugs and ships are out of the picture), the rapids are closer together and the trip is more scenic.  We came this way last year from Alaska and learned the hard way, that these rapids are still very dangerous and to only transit them when the tide is slack (you may recall the story about ripping down the rapids at 13 knots narrowly avoiding a 20 ft whirlpool on side, while avoiding the rocks on the other).

Fortunately, we timed them right this time and we whipped through the narrows right at slack water.  The weather, however, was naughty.  Lightening can be a scary prospect for people on a sailboat.  You have a giant lightening rod protruding 50 ft. in the air and you’re standing under it.  We’ve wired our boat to help avoid any strikes, but that’s little comfort when bolts are coming down out of the sky.  The storm came very close to us.  The strikes were within 10 miles, but suddenly it veered and left us alone.  Good luck with the weather has proven to come rarely, so we didn’t jinx it by paying any attention to it.

We anchored in “Cameleon Harbour” where we saw a bear and cub last year.  It is too early in the year for bears here, but we kept an eye out anyway.  I occasionally called out “Here bear, bear, bear”, but again, nada.

The next part of our route took us through some high current areas and then to Port Neville.  This is where the good stuff happened.  We sighted 4 orcas (the camera wouldn’t focus right so you’ll just have to take our word for it)!  One large male, a female and two tiny juveniles!  They were feeding in the currents and occasionally surfaced near us.  This was a really rare sight this early in the year.  They were probably transients as the resident pods don’t usually arrive in Johnstone Strait until June.  We felt very very lucky.  In fact, as we traveled further up into Johnstone Strait, the hotbed for Orcas, we heard that there hadn’t been any sightings yet.  The area resident pod disappears during the winter and spring (no one knows where they go) but they haven’t arrived back yet.

After Port Neville we kept heading north up Johnstone Strait to a cozy little anchorage called Growler Cove which we used last summer as a base camp for Orca watching.  However, since there hadn’t been any sightings, and we already saw the transient family, we figured there wouldn’t be much luck in spotting more whales.

Did I mention that it’s been raining for days and days and days?  We’ve had two gales and pouring rain.  I’m getting mossy from it all.  We’re getting pretty far north, so maybe some of that moss will just freeze off along the way.

Some nights the temperature dropped down to the mid-thirties, with the days at a balmy 55-60 F.  If we get a real scorcher, the inside temperature of the boat (without the heater) will hit about 70F.  We haven’t had anything close to a scorcher since Nanaimo.

After leaving “Growler Cove” we went to a new place (new to us) called Sointula.  It’s a small island village that was a hippie camp long before that word existed.  In 1901, 800 people quit their crappy day job at the local mine, pitched in, and built themselves a communal town on Malcolm Island, calling themselves “Utopians”.  They were also, by chance, all Finnish.  They were idealists who developed and built their own foundry, brickyard, sawmill, newspaper and a blacksmith shop.  Everyone who joined the community either paid $250 or worked off the debt.  Most people had to work off the debt.  They had a tough go of it, but a few of the founding families are still there today.

They have a terrific bakery, by the way, if you’re ever in town.

From the Finnish hippie camp, we went to Port Hardy, the logging, mining and fishing town.  The anchorage there was rough as it faced Queen Charlotte Strait.  Those folks with bigger cruising budgets could afford the protected marina.  But we’re on the “who cares if I have to crawl to the bathroom it’s so rough I can’t walk” budget.

When the weather was calm in the morning, we managed a trip to shore, for email, groceries, laundry, and all that crap that you think you don’t need to worry about until it’s gone.  Oh, and we had to finish a few more projects and find someone with a drill press…normal stuff.

 

The boat in the far right of the photo is “Sarana” and directly behind my head is where all the nasty waves come from.

Beaten down after two nights of strong winds, we pulled up anchor and said goodbye.  Only the anchor wouldn’t come up!  Tug, tug, tug, nothing.  Hmmm, it appeared we wrapped the chain around something.  Sherrell calmly said, “no problem.”  She drove the boat around counterclockwise once and the chain popped right out!

She made some sly comment about noticing we did a clockwise circle in the dark of night and somehow we must have wrapped the chain then.  I didn’t question it.  We had almost 200’ of chain to pull up from that deep, rough, bouncing, nauseating anchorage.

Seeking relief from Port Bouncy, we made a bee-line for a little land-locked cove called “Clam Cove”.   Clam cove has a narrow, shallow entrance and leads back to a waveproof lagoon that is about 15’ deep with a muddy bottom.  Perfect for anchoring and a great spot to wait out the storm that was predicted to arrive.

Just inside the entrance we saw two deer foraging at the low tide line.  That’s a good sign of a quiet anchorage.

 

We also saw hooded mergansers floating nearby on a log.  They look pretty cool with their fashion stripes and hoods. 

Meanwhile we rejoiced in the calm waters of Clam Cove after Port Sucks-a-lot.  I guess we weren’t quite hardy enough for Port Hardy.  It’s a good thing we moved to this anchorage, because the North Pacific raged during the night.  Even in our land locked little anchorage, we were getting tossed by massive gusts.  One of the weather stations about 4 miles from us reported winds over 45 knots.

While the weather did it’s best to annoy us, we ignored it and went hiking.  Clam Cove is on a little island called Nigei Island.  I don’t know how to say it either.  The island has lots of lakes, and valuable “Canadian Timber” that you hear so much about.  They used good old American style clearcuts to remove most of it.

There was some evidence that there had once been some old growth on the island, but most of it looks like second growth, and this will become third growth.  It was fortunately replanted.

On the plus side, besides cheaper paper for you to print this on, the loggers provided roads up the steep hilltops.  With the trees mowed down we had quite a view of the surrounding area.

 

That small white dot the arrow is pointing to is our boat.  There’s a fishing boat in there with us and a small float camp doing God knows what.

 

Looking out to the NE you can see the Walker Group, which is an island chain we anchored in last year on our way to Alaska.

After praising the calmness of Clam Cove’s waters, and spending about three days just relaxing there, we headed for Bull Harbor; the place I’m writing this from.  Most likely, if you’ve received this, we’re further south.  We’ve rounded Cape Scott and we found someplace that has email and a computer with a CDROM drive.  But let’s get back to where I started off, Bull Harbour.

Bull Harbour is a long, narrow bay that leads north inside the island, well protected from the outside swell.  On the other side of the island, about a half mile north of our anchorage, we can hear the large Pacific waves break on the beach.  Just like the oceans I remember from California, Florida and Cape May when I was a kid.  This is a proper beach, only it’s friggin’ freezin’.

 We hiked over to the beach on the other side of the island, and saw a Minke whale feeding in the shallows of the bay (aptly named Roller Bay).  The beach was long and sandy—something rarely seen around these young shores.

Sherrell watched him through the binoculars, diving and surfacing in the swells.

Before we can move on, we’re going to have to wait at least a day, if not more (it turned out to be 4 days), here before attempting Cape Scott.  There’s yet another gale forecasted with winds to 40 knots again.  I hope this summer isn’t a replay of last year, where we had gale after gale followed by a nice storm.  Fortunately we have tons of time to wait for the nice weather because we aren’t planning to depart for California until mid-August.

We’ll sit here a while longer looking for more whales.  We heard that the grey whales are feeding out here this month, so maybe we’ll get lucky and spot a few of them!