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2010 Edition

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2010 CRUISE REPORT, WEEK SEVEN

July 28, 2010.

The barn calls us. Like the horse at the far end of the ice delivery route, we’re feeling an urgency to get back to the barn. It happens every year. Knowing that, we make as many visits as we can while we’re heading north. Once we’ve turned the bow south, the flesh is willing to touch and go several times a day, but the spirit grows weak.

      Many years ago my wife, Marilynn, and I took a wonderful car camping trip down the Oregon coast and across to Ashland, Oregon, where we enjoyed several plays at the Shakespeare Festival. On the way home from Ashland, at Eugene, I think, everything turned sour. The campground was crummy, the tent gave us problems, our dinner in the nearby restaurant was dreadful. Next morning, we packed everything up and drove straight home, laughing at the turn in our luck and how sudden it had been.

      Happily, our luck on this trip hasn’t turned. If anything, the trip south has been at least as pleasurable as the trip north. We’ve certainly had some experiences.

Sometimes an anchor just won't set Anchor adventure. We departed Shearwater around noon, with a first stop planned for the cute little cove in the Kisameet Islands, the cove Marilynn didn’t want published in the Waggoner so she could have it for herself. A chop was getting up in Fisher Channel, which sealed the decision. We weren’t going any farther. Following the chart, we threaded our way through the rocks and around the island, and of course another boat was already there. Ah, well, we could still make do. Down went the anchor. When it hit bottom I gave my usual signal to back away as the windlass paid out chain. At about three times the water’s depth I locked the windlass. Marilynn backed away. The anchor seemed to hold, then went bump, bump. Then it seemed to hold – no, it was dragging. Stop the boat, anchor up. Here’s why it wouldn’t set:

      We must have waited too long before backing away, and let chain pile on top of the anchor. The bad news was the anchor was fouled. That also was the good news. The anchor was the problem, not the bottom. With some effort I got the chain off the flukes and we tried again. This time the anchor set. Important lesson: We mustn’t talk ourselves into believing the anchor is set. If something is wrong, wishful thinking won’t fix it.

      Our reward was hearing a humpback whale blow just a short distance away, on the other side of the little island. Marilynn saw the whale; I didn’t. I had to settle for two mighty “Whoosh!” sounds.

Fury Cove. The westerly was establishing itself by the time we got down to the north side of Rivers Inlet, settling the matter of a late afternoon rounding of Cape Caution. We would wait for morning. We debated between anchoring in Frypan Bay, a short distance inside Rivers Inlet, or in Fury Cove, which looks out on the ocean. Frypan Bay is more protected from the likely wind, but the sun was coming out at last, and Fury Cove is so very pretty. We opted for Fury Cove, and were the second boat there. By nightfall a total of seven boats were anchored.

      Two couples were on the other boat, a 47-foot sailboat. They helped us carry the dinghy across the tide flats to a safe spot above the high water line, so we could walk on the dazzling white shell beach. They were headed north, then out to the Charlottes, and back home to Vancouver via the west coast of Vancouver Island.

      The incoming tide had covered much of the tide flats, and the carry back to the water was shorter and easier. Since it was not yet suppertime, we had time to explore. We putt-putted out of Fury Cove and scouted the bay just outside and the little islands beyond. In several places we saw white shell beaches, evidence of longtime Indian use. An eagle studied us from its perch in a snag. We poked the nose seaward to feel the ocean swells, then retreated to the boat. High adventure, no. A pleasant and relaxing time, absolutely.

Cape Caution, 28th rounding. The “go” elements seem never to line up for a rounding of Cape Caution. The preferred time is early morning, before the westerly develops. Only we’ve had good crossings in the late afternoon. You don’t want an ebbing tide, especially a large ebb, because a huge volume of water pours out of Rivers Inlet and smacks into the incoming ocean swells, heaping them up. You want the Egg Island and Pine Island lighthouse reports to be for 2-foot chop or less, none of this 3-foot moderate stuff, which for us isn’t moderate. And you want the West Sea Otter buoy reports to be one meter or less if possible, 1.5 meters at the most.

      This year, the tide was flooding until early afternoon. That took care of any ebb coming out of Rivers Inlet. The 0400 weather broadcast (we got up at 0430) reported Egg Island, 1-foot chop; Pine Island, 2-foot chop. Things were looking good. The only negative was West Sea Otter buoy, 1.3 meters, with 18 knots of wind. At 0530 the anchor was up and we were on our way. Off Cape Caution West Sea Otter’s swells off our starboard quarter gave us some control problems. A swell would grab the stern and the boat would get a mind of its own. It took aggressive work with the wheel to bring it back. That said, compared with other conditions we’ve been in, it wasn’t too bad. We’d do it again. We got to Quarterdeck Marina in Port Hardy before noon. By mid-afternoon, Hardy Bay was filled with whitecaps. The fishing charter customers came back with fish, although at the price of losing their lunch.

Pacific Eagle Seabee, Kwatsi Bay Kwatsi Bay. Three-fourths of the family plus one were there. The missing one-fourth was daughter Marieke, who is working all summer in Port McNeill this year. The “plus one” was Anca’s mother Marianne (I’m sure I’ve misspelled the name), from Victoria. Anca looks just like her mother, only younger. The next morning a wildly-painted Pacific Eagle Seabee picked up Mom and took her back to Port McNeill.

      This has been a tough year for the family. Anca was in Port McNeill all winter with Marieke and son Russell, so the kids could attend high school. Max had to keep the marina together all by himself, and do it with a knee that has no more cartilage. Bone on bone creates terrible pain. Max did go to Port McNeill for a short visit. When he returned to Kwatsi Bay, their home had been broken into. Stolen possessions can be replaced. Constant pain wears a person down. Max kept a brave face during our stay, but he needs a new knee, and soon.

      The docks were filled to capacity when we got there. Jim Roby, on his Monk-McQueen Anchor, and Tom and Mary Ann Liebert on their Ocean Alexander Friendship II offered to let us raft off their boats. In the end we rafted off Friendship II because our cockpits line up perfectly. Sincere thank-yous to both boats.

Port Harvey Marina, waiting for less wind Port Harvey Marina. Port Harvey Marina is getting to be quite a story. It’s perfectly located as a first stop after getting off Johnstone Strait for northbound boats, or as a jumping-off point close to the strait for southbound boats. George and Gail Cambridge opened the marina last year. It’s still not finished. There’s no power on the docks, and no water.

      They have a good store, however, with essential groceries and some hardware, and a gift shop stocked with locally-made crafts and art. A café upstairs serves a limited menu: hamburgers and fries, fish and chips, and pizza. And great big gooey cinnamon buns, fresh baked every day.

      We planned to spend one night, had a good pizza with everything on it, with leftovers kept for lunch. Before morning, the northwesterly wind came in. Johnstone Strait had gale warnings. We checked our mooring lines. As the day progressed, the wind progressed. Repeated gusts in excess of 40 knots hammered the boats. Earlier this year a very large yacht had leaned against the dock and bent one piling. When the pressure was released the piling stood straight again, so George Cambridge thought it was undamaged. Forty-plus knots of wind blowing against a dock filled from end to end with large white fiberglass boats revealed that the piling had indeed been damaged. The dock took an ominous bend, but it held. George says he’ll be contacting the large yacht’s owner about the offer of repairs.

      It’s easy to assume that stores always have stock and restaurants always have supplies, and resupply is easy. Consider this, however: George has to ferry Gail across Johnstone Strait to their parked vehicle, which she drives to town and back, filled with food, hardware, and anything else they need. The weather makes no difference. While the rest of us were checking our mooring lines at 6:00 a.m., George took Gail across Johnstone Strait in their small but tough twin outboard aluminum supply boat. Seas were six feet, mostly on the beam. One of the two outboard engines doesn’t run. Its replacement was back on the marina dock. The boat took deep rolls and green water. This was not a run down to Safeway for a few things.

     Late in the afternoon, Gail had the vehicle back, filled with the day’s shopping. Because George was busy with customers and keeping the sagging dock together, a neighbor in Port Harvey took his little aluminum crew boat across Johnstone Strait in six-foot beam seas to bring Gail and everything back. Shortly after landing, George and Gail were in the café, preparing meals for a full house of customers. At 9:30 p.m., after the dishes were washed and cinnamon buns made for the next morning, George walked the docks a final time, making sure things were okay.

Moving day. The big winds blew themselves out overnight and took a day off. The next day was Moving Day. We saw more than 50 boats heading north (it’s actually west, but it seems like north) in Johnstone Strait. It was a whole parade of boats, liberated from Forward Harbour and the marinas along Cordero Channel. They must have seen a similar parade of boats headed south (east). You can’t be timid when conditions say Go. You Go.

Cordero Lodge fly in dinner Cordero Lodge. For 31 years Doris and Reinhardt Kuppers have been offering warm hospitality and marvelous German cooking at Cordero Lodge, a short distance east of Greene Point Rapids in Cordero Channel. While we were having supper, a helicopter came in with a party of four for dinner. Not many restaurants can boast that kind of appeal.

      During the past two or three years, however, visitors have noted that Reinhardt’s health was slipping. This past year Reinhardt has had to be flown out at least twice for medical attention. Cordero Lodge is for sale.

      We enjoyed Doris’s cooking for what may be our last time. Things change. In the case of Port Harvey Marina the change is for the better. In the case of Cordero Lodge, I guess we can’t keep a good thing forever.

Big Bay. The Stuart Island Community Docks at Big Bay are in excellent condition and the store is well stocked. Roger and Cathy Minor continue to make improvements. All the local lodges are supporting the liquor agency, which is a big help. If you need a place to stop, this is a good one.
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