Sunday, October 11, 1992 - San Francisco, CA

Any time you want an adrenaline rush, try bringing a boat into the Gate at night in dense fog. Both of us were up from four a.m. to six, monitoring the radar and talking on the VHF with other vessels and Traffic Service. A huge freighter and a container ship passed half a mile away, and we couldn't see any of their lights. Couldn't even see the bright light of the Point Bonita Lighthouse. All we saw were green blobs on the radar screen. We marveled that anyone would sail a boat without radar, yet we heard on the VHF a freighter telling a sailboat to get out of its way; the sailboat had no radar and was about to cross right in front of the freighter.
We had no problem dodging vessels and buoys; the problem was going to be getting under the bridge. On radar, a bridge looks like a solid wall; you can't tell the towers from the rest of the bridge. Rather than risk a collision, we decided to duck into Bonita Cove and drop anchor until the sun came up and the fog lifted. There appeared to be one or two other boats in there.
As soon as we were anchored, Roy took a much-needed nap (he'd been up since two a.m.), while I kept watch and rang the bell. Once, I heard a motorboat coming straight towards us. I blew the horn. He swerved and passed 50 feet away.
The fog was still thick after breakfast, so Roy changed the oil, and I updated the log. We laughed at the irony of completing a
3000-mile trip by being fog-bound 10 miles from home.
On the VHF, the Coast Guard announced that the "Good News" was abandoned and adrift. They gave the coordinates to warn vessels not to bump into it, but that also means anyone can go out there and claim it as salvage.
We sat at Bonita Cove for more than six hours, waiting for the fog to lift. By noon, we had one-eighth of a mile of visibility, so we decided to try it. Slowly and carefully, we eased out of the cove and under the bridge, following a Coast Guard boat. By the time we were abreast of Angel Island, the sun was shining, the sky was bright blue, the fog was behind us. A zillion sailboats glided about, exulting in the glorious day.
We reached Marina Bay around three o'clock. Rita Coy waved to us from a rowboat. We're home again, safe and sound! We've traveled 3425 miles to Alaska and back, and I didn't get seasick once! We've experienced some exciting adventures. We've seen some magnificent scenery. Best of all, we've enjoyed each other's companionship. Surely, we're among the most fortunate people on earth.

Saturday, October 10, 1992 - On way to San Francisco

Perfect day! Clear blue sky, warm sun, calm water. We left Fort Bragg shortly after six, just as a huge orange moon was setting directly in front of us. At first, we thought it was the rising sun, but then we realized we were facing west, not east.
Motored leisurely down the coast all day, enjoying the scenery. Cleared Point Arena precisely at noon, and Roy told me about his diving days there. A big hotel has been built at Arena Cove since Roy was last there.
Passed Fort Ross just before sunset. The full moon was rising in the east just as the sun was setting in the west. We're going to have another beautiful moonlit night. The deep red of sunset suffused the entire western sky, while the moon cast a silver path across the water to the east. The air was so clear that we could see the bright light at Point Reyes 25 miles away! This made setting a course very simple.
We had planned on spending the night in Drake's Bay, but the weather was so beautiful, we decided to keep going. Figured we'd be knocking at the Gate shortly before dawn.
A little after midnight, we reached Point Reyes -- and immediately plunged into pea soup. The light we had seen so clearly 25 miles away was completely invisible at a distance of one mile.

Friday, October 9, 1992 - Fort Bragg, CA

Beautiful day. Calm and sunny. We stayed close to shore to enjoy the scenery and stay out of the high winds.
Farther out, the gale was still raging. Around 3:30, we heard a man on the VHF radio, talking with the Humboldt Bay Coast Guard. He sounded young and scared. He was single-handing a small trimaran, 45 miles west of Fort Bragg. He said the wind was blowing 35 and 40 knots, and huge waves were tossing his boat around like crazy. It had been going on all night and all day. He had a sea anchor out and a small stormsail. We really felt for him, especially after what we'd been through last night. But he's in far greater danger than we were. He's all alone, 45 miles from land, in a flimsy trimaran instead of a sturdy, sea-worthy, full-keeled ketch. The Jofian could take the weather he's in; a trimaran can't. Trimarans are fine on a lake, where it doesn't matter if you flip over; they don't belong on the ocean. But the guy wasn't asking for rescue; he mainly wanted to know when the wind was going to let up. He said he'd listened to the weather forecast, and there hadn't been any mention of anything like the stuff he was in. The Coast Guard couldn't tell him when the weather would improve. They told him to contact them again in three hours.
Then the skipper of the "Magic Carpet" came on (one of the sailors we'd heard yesterday). He spoke to him reassuringly. Told him to eat some hot soup and let the wind carry him in towards shore, where it was calm. He also told him to contact him on the VHF any time he wanted to talk with someone.
A fisherman came on (probably the same one I talked with yesterday) and told him the wind wasn't going to die down; it was always rough in that area and two or three boats a year were lost out there. Nothing like cheering the kid up.
Ironically, the name of the trimaran was "Good News".
We soon arrived at Fort Bragg. The entrance to the Noyo River was narrow and tricky but not rough. It would be a mess in a strong westerly, though.
We took one look at the marina and decided not to go into it. It looked crowded and small, with no room to turn around. On the other side of the river was a nice, long float, with only one boat tied to it, so we tied up there, even though we figured it was private. There weren't any "No Trespassing" signs.
When we walked through the gate, we saw a sign that said the dock belonged to the Noyo Fishing Center, which was just across the street but was closed.
We bought some snapper at a nearby fish store and took it back to the boat. As we were getting on the boat, we heard the loudspeaker at the Coast Guard station across the river broadcasting another trans-
mission from the guy on the "Good News", so we quickly turned on our VHF. It was nearly six o'clock, and he was ready to be rescued. He said, "I want to get out of this while I'm still alive." He sounded about ready to cry. He was poorly equipped for a sea voyage; he didn't have a life-raft or an EPIRB, but at least he had a GPS, so he was able to tell the Coast Guard his exact location. What a wonderful invention the GPS is! He also had a wet-suit, so the Coast Guard told him to put it on.
Roy and I walked out to the end of the jetty and watched a couple of SCUBA divers going in the water. It was dark when we got back to the boat. There was a man on the dock cleaning fish. He worked for the Noyo Fish Center, so we asked him for the name and home phone number of the owner. He gave them to us, and Roy phoned him to ask permission to stay overnight.
I listened to the VHF while I fixed supper. The SAR (Search and Rescue) helicopter was ten miles from the "Good News". I could hear the transmission between the two loud and clear. The helicopter had its landing lights on, and the trimaran had its mast lights on. In a few minutes, the helicopter pilot could see the "Good News". He told the guy to put on his wet-suit and PFD and to take off his weight belt. The young man on the "Good News" did as he was told, but he said his PFD (Personal Flotation Device) wasn't inflated. The pilot told him to inflate it and be ready to jump in the water when told to do so. The helicopter lowered a basket and a rescue swimmer. The swimmer swam over to the "Good News", told the guy to jump in the water, and helped him get in the basket. Then the basket was pulled back up to the helicopter. Having watched the Search and Rescue demonstration at Port Angeles, I could clearly visualize the entire operation.
Roy and I were very happy the sea drama had reached a successful conclusion. And we had permission to stay at the dock.

Thursday, October 8, 1992 - Shelter Cove, CA

Lady Washington Replica at dock in Port Angeles


Lost our calm water overnight, but the wind and waves are in back of us, so we're still zooming south.
Debated going into Eureka, but the forecast was favorable, so we continued south, sailing nicely wing-and-wing.
Passed Cape Mendocino around five p.m. in dense fog. Good thing the radar works. By then, the wind was howling at 30 to 40 knots, despite the prediction of 10 to 20 knots, and the waves were really kicking up. Worst of all were the huge swells from the west. When they went under the boat, Jofian tilted first one way, then the other, and slipped around all over the place. Guess we should have gone into Eureka, but there's no turning back now; we can only go where the wind takes us.
We heard some other sailboaters talking on the VHF. One was safe at Fort Bragg, but the other was taking a pounding off Point Delgado. She said the wind was blowing 40 knots and the waves were horrendous. So much for weather forecasts. A fisherman came on and advised them to go into Shelter Cove, but they had already passed it, so they had no choice but to go on and hope for the best. The fisherman said that Punta Gorda (where we were heading) was always the worst place on the entire coast.
We were sailing under reefed main and reefed headsail, doing 7 to 8 knots and sliding off the tops of waves at 10 knots. I was struggling to hold our course between 120 degrees and 150 degrees, but even with a spread of 30 degrees, I couldn't hold it when the swells hit, and then Roy had to get us back on course; I didn't have the strength.
Roy started the engine and then went out in the gale to take in the main. That's easy to write, but it was a half-hour struggle. He also pulled in all but a couple of feet of the headsail. This made steering much, much easier, so I was able to more or less hold the course.
By now, it was nighttime. The fog lifted and a brilliant moon lighted our way. We zoomed past Punta Gorda in howling winds and wild waves. Roy wisely decided to head for Shelter Cove, 20 miles southeast of us. It was after midnight when we got there and dropped anchor in 48 feet of water. Boy, did it feel good to be out of the wind and waves! We ate a bowl of soup for supper and went right to sleep.

Wednesday, October 7, 1992 - California

Old Russian church in Sitka
Lovely, calm, sunny morning. The ocean couldn't be any flatter. No waves, not even a ripple. Of course, that means no wind for sailing, but that's ok; we zipped along under power.
In the afternoon, there were a few ripples. Roy put out the main and headsail, wing-and-wing, but we used the engine, too. We're back in California!
We had planned on going to Crescent City, but the weather's so beautiful that we decided to keep going.
We heard some other sailboaters chatting on the VHF. Most of them are doing what we're doing: taking advantage of the good weather by continuing south.

Tuesday, October 6, 1992 - Coos Bay, OR

Skagway, Alaska

Another clear, sunny, beautiful day. A very nice man, Bob Carman, came by to visit. He lives on his 38-foot sailboat, the Ka'u, on Dock 8. He's a captain and delivers boats all over the world. We enjoyed a pleasant chat. He's in the Coast Guard Auxiliary and spends a lot of time at the Coast Guard station. He told us one or two boats a year are lost crossing the bar.
We had a hard time deciding whether to go or stay. This is a lovely place. We'd have liked to ride our bikes around and to walk along the beach, but we need to be getting back to Richmond, so we finally decided to go down to Coos Bay. That's less than 20 miles, but it's that much closer to home.
The afternoon turned out to be absolutely beautiful. We were able to turn off the engine and sail with the main and headsail wing-to-
wing. It was so quiet and peaceful. We made four to five knots. Reached Coos Bay a little after six.
The Coast Guard were Johnny-on-the-spot. We'd scarcely gotten two throw lines attached to the dock -- hadn't even turned off the engine -- when two Coasties were there wanting to board. They were very nice. They checked our registration, life-jackets, flares, placards, VHF license, etc., but they didn't inspect the boat. We passed with flying colors.
After supper, we walked to a little store and bought some vegetables.
There are good showers here, too. You get a long three minutes for 25 cents.
The weather outlook is favorable for several days.

Monday, October 5, 1992 - Umpqua River, OR

Leaving Vancouver, Schooner with replica of Indian Canoe
Clear, sunny, and breezy. We took the boat over to the fuel dock and filled the tank and eight jerry cans. Then we took the boat around the corner to Winchester Marina. Got a good end-tie on Dock 5.
This is a good, well-made marina. We have electricity and water. The showers are excellent.
I wanted to paddle up a little stream we'd seen. What I didn't realize was that there was no way to reach the stream from Winchester Bay; I had to paddle over to Salem Harbor. This meant going a short distance on the Umpqua River, where the wind was blowing strong against me and there were white-capped waves. I hugged the shore and made it, but when I reached the stream, I found I couldn't paddle up it at all; it narrowed to almost nothing and became impassable in less than 100 yards. So I blew back to the boat.
We enjoyed long, hot showers and shampoos. We could use all the water we wanted. Cost $1, but it was worth it.
In the evening, we carted the dirty clothes over to the laundromat. It was a nice, clean, new-looking laundromat. So now everything's clean, including us.
Roy talked with a man who watched us crossing the bar yesterday. He said the waves sometimes lifted the boat completely out of the water!

Sunday, October 4, 1992 - Umpqua River, OR

Replica of 19th Century "Lady Washington"
I was on watch around five a.m. when I saw a small light in the distance ahead. I thought it was a small boat two or three miles away. Tried to find it on radar. Finally located it on the 12-mile range. It was a huge freighter 11 miles away! And it was headed directly for us, going 90 to nothing. I immediately altered our course to avoid it, but it still seemed to be coming at us. In no time, it was on the 8-mile range, then the 4, and then the 2. Its lights were glaring right at me. I turned off the auto-pilot, grabbed the wheel, and swung hard to starboard, but the monster seemed to be coming right towards us no matter what I did. There's no feeling quite like being on a sailboat in pitch darkness, going as fast as you can, watching a humungous freighter bearing down on you. But after a few tense minutes, the freighter glided silently by, 3/4 of a mile away. It was going so fast, it had no sooner gone by than it disappeared. And I started breathing again.
The day was sunny, with a northeast breeze. We put out the headsail but used the engine, too. The wind was almost directly in back of us, which made the sail flop around. In the afternoon, the wind kicked up to twenty or more knots, and the waves started getting bigger and topped with whitecaps. We had hoped to make Coos Bay, but it would have been getting dark by the time we got there, so we decided to go into the mouth of the Umpqua River. Ha ha ha. That's like deciding to climb the face of a cliff instead of taking the road around the base. We'd thought the entrance to Gray's Harbor was wild, but it was a picnic compared with the entrance to the Umpqua River. Usually, as soon as you're inside the breakwater, the water flattens out, but here huge waves were breaking inside the breakwater! The wind was up to 30 knots, and 15-foot waves were tossing the Jofian this way and that, up and down, back and forth, side to side. A couple of times we heeled 50 degrees, first one side, then the other. We were very thankful for the solid lead keel; many boats would have flipped completely over. Roy was hanging onto the wheel for dear life, trying to avoid the breakers on our left and the rocks on the right. There wasn't much distance between them. We had range finders to guide us, but it was a real feat of seamanship to keep on course when the boat was sliding this way and that off the tops of the waves. If anything at all had gone wrong -- if the engine had quit or the steering mechanism had failed -- we'd have been smashed helplessly against the rocks. But everything worked perfectly. Jofian took it all in stride; it was all in the day's work for her. After an eternity, we passed the ends of the breakwaters and entered the river. The wind was still howling, but there were no waves to speak of. What a relief! Our mouths were so dry, we both had to drink a glass of water.
There are two marinas here: Winchester Bay and Salmon Harbor. The information we had said sailboats should use Salmon Harbor, so that's where we went. We soon realized we should have gone to Winchester Bay, but at the moment we didn't care. There was plenty of available dock space, so Roy put the engine in neutral and we blew over to the first dock. Boy, did it feel good to walk on solid ground again! We're glad we had the experience of crossing the Umpqua River bar in 30-knot winds, but we wouldn't want to do it again!
We walked around a while and bought a few groceries. As we were passing a small shopping center, a woman hailed us and asked if we knew anything about fixing cars. Her solenoid had hung up and was cranking away. She had phoned her mechanic, and he had advised her to cut the battery cable, so she was out there trying to cut it with a pair of plastic scissors that would have a hard time cutting paper. Roy pulled the cable off with a pair of pliers. The woman was very grateful.

Saturday, October 3, 1992 - On way to Oregon

Totem Pole in Sitka, AK
Movin' right along. By noon, we were abreast the mouth of the Columbia River (but way out). We're out of Washington and into Oregon!
In the morning, we turned off the engine so Roy could change the oil and empty two or three jerry cans into the diesel tank. He did all this with the boat rocking back and forth on the waves. And he didn't make a mess!
Yesterday, near Cape Flattery, two little land birds landed on the boat. They kept trying to fly back to shore, but the wind was too strong. After we rounded the cape, they were able to ride the west wind back.

Friday, October 2, 1992 - on way to Oregon

Finally got away from Neah Bay. We led the parade, but the motor yacht soon passed us.
Completely overcast most of the day. Somewhat foggy in the morning.
Had no problem rounding Cape Flattery, and as soon as we were headed south, we had a good sailing breeze. Put out the headsail, main, and mizzen. For a while, we were able to sail without the engine. That was so neat! No sound but the wind and waves and rush of the bow wake. But then the wind died and we had to turn the engine back on.
Around noon, the engine abruptly quit. We thought the valve had clogged again, but no, this time it was a leaking fuel line. We'd been smelling diesel fumes for a couple of days, but thought they were coming from the jerry cans. As soon as Roy fixed the leak, the engine started right up.
We're just going to keep truckin', day and night, as long as the weather's favorable.

Thursday, October 1, 1992 - Neah Bay, WA

Well, here it is October and we still haven't rounded the cape. But tomorrow, the wind's supposed to change in our favor.
This morning was overcast, damp, and windy. Our anchor was dragging, so we moved forward and lowered the second anchor. Several other boats dragged, too.
The Lady Washington's in here now. In fact, there are a whole bunch of boats waiting to go south.
Forgot to mention yesterday, when we got off the bus, the driver asked if we were senior citizens. When we told him our ages, he was surprised. He said, "You both look a lot younger." That really made our day!
Roy spent most of today working on the generator. Finally got it started at 3:30 in the afternoon. He had to disconnect the stop button, but we can stop it easily by taking the wire off the sparkplug. Sure nice to have microwave-cooked meals again.
I spent most of the day trying to tune the shortwave radio. Finally decided the antenna needs adjusting. Lowest standing wave ratio I could get was 2:1, and that was only on one or two bands. Most of the bands were around 5:1. The standing wave ratio is supposed to be 1.5:1 or lower.
After finishing repairing the generator, Roy went to town to buy a few things. He ran into the husband of the woman we were talking with yesterday and got the rest of the story, or at least the husband's version of the story. They did pay; the husband left a twenty-dollar
bill, which was more than enough to pay for their food, most of which they didn't eat. His wife had ordered a meat dip with cheese. It was brought without cheese, so she complained. The waitress went back and got a cold piece of cheese with the paper still on it and put it on the plate. The woman refused to eat it. Apparently, some heated words were exchanged. Her husband had eaten a bite or two of his hamburger, and the crew member had eaten two or three French fries. The woman had eaten nothing. The husband said, "Let's get out of here." He slammed a twenty-dollar bill down on the table, and the three of them left.
The non-uniformed police captain caught up with them in the grocery store and told the woman she was under arrest. She asked, "What for?" and he said, "For disturbing the peace." Her husband came over and told the captain he was not going to arrest his wife. He's an aeronautical engineer with a million-dollar yacht, so he had no qualms about standing up to a small-town cop. The captain threatened to arrest him for interfering with the duties of a police officer. The engineer told the captain if he wanted to keep his job, he'd better leave them alone. The argument went on and on. The woman was in tears, and a crowd of shoppers had gathered to watch. The captain got nervous and called for backup. Seven officers responded! I didn't know there were that many policemen in the entire area. The captain, who was about 25 years old, looked frightened and ridiculous. One of the officers fetched the waitress from the restaurant, and she admitted they had paid. No one was arrested. The captain told the three to get out of town and stay out, which was fine with them, since they were planning on leaving anyway. The woman took the bus to Seattle, and the two men will take the boat south tomorrow.
There should be a mass exodus out of here in the morning; a dozen or more boats are waiting for the wind to change.

Wednesday, September 30, 1992 - Neah Bay, WA

First thing we discovered this morning was that the bilge pumps weren't working, so Roy spent the morning cleaning the bilge. For-
tunately, that was all that was needed; the pumps were just clogged. They work fine now.
While Roy was doing that, I paddled ashore and bought a few groceries and a book of stamps. Then I paddled around the bay. Went over to the remains of the bridge but got chased away.
We had tried to listen for Ken at ten a.m., but the reception was very poor, and we kept hearing the loud ticking. After lunch, I noticed that the depth sounder was on, and it occurred to me that might be what was causing the ticking. Roy agreed that was a good idea. He turned on the radio and turned off the DC circuit breakers one by one. The ticking wasn't caused by the depth sounder; it was caused by the radar. That makes sense; the radar has to time the beams it sends out, probably by a crystal oscillator, and it's located close to the radio antenna. So now we know how to eliminate the ticking.
We paddled ashore to take the bus to Forks. In spite of my reminder, Roy forgot the chain, lock, and key, so he had to zoom back to the boat and get them.
While we were waiting for the bus, two men and a woman came up and started a conversation. The woman said she had been treated very rudely in the restaurant across the street. They hadn't brought her what she had ordered, so she had refused to pay for it.
When Roy and I got on the bus, we saw the Police Captain's car in front of the restaurant. The captain (?), in jeans and sports shirt, was talking with two waitresses. We surmised the waitresses were complaining about the woman who didn't pay. They looked at me on the bus as if they thought I was the one. (There was a slight resemblance.) Sure enough, the bus had gone a very short distance when it was stopped by the police captain. He got on the bus and asked about the people who had got on at the motel. Another man who had gotten on with us immediately spoke up and said he'd gotten on there and had heard about someone who hadn't paid in the restaurant. We told the captain that the woman and two men had headed towards the general store. He thanked us and left. Methinks that's going to turn out to be an expensive meal.
Enjoyed a pleasant, free ride to Forks. It's about 45 miles each way, the first ten alongside the strait, the rest through woods. It was an unusually warm, almost hot, day. We strolled around Forks for a couple of hours and bought a few things we couldn't get in Neah Bay, including a little camping toaster (non-electric) to use on the propane stove.

Tuesday, September 29, 1992 - Neah Bay, WA

Now that we have nothing to do but wait for the wind to change, we can take care of some of the things we've been putting off.
This morning, we finally checked into the problem with the short-
wave radio. We haven't heard a sound out of it for months. We removed the radio and the tuner from their cubbyholes and saw that the wire that was supposed to connect the two was disconnected! We plugged it in, expecting that to take care of the problem, but to our dismay, we still couldn't hear anything. We checked all the other connections, and they seemed to be fine. Then Roy had the brilliant idea of listening with his earphones. He could hear perfectly! Thinking the speaker wasn't functioning, he pulled out the plug for the earphones. Lo! We could hear the radio loud and clear. Such a simple little thing!
Before the day was over, we had listened to the Voice of America in New York, Family Radio in North Carolina, the BBC in London, the Voice of Italy in Rome, and the Voice of Cuba in Havana. How neat to have a shortwave radio that works!
Of course, all those stations have very powerful transmitters. Communicating with other hams is another matter. At five o'clock, we listened to 3868.5 to see if we could hear Roy's brother Ken, but reception was poor. We kept hearing a loud ticking. Can't figure out what's causing it.
Besides playing with the radio, Roy made some repairs to the boat and we read. We also finally found out what those huge concrete things are at the end of the bay. They're just what they look like: approaches to a bridge. A bridge on I-85 collapsed a few years ago, and the remains were brought here. They'll eventually be used as a breakwater.

Monday, September 28, 1992 - Neah Bay, WA

We couldn't have had a better day for going to Neah Bay. Both the wind and the tidal current were with us, and it was sunny and fairly warm. There wasn't much wind, so we had to use the engine, but we zoomed along at close to eight knots over the ground. Left Port Angeles at 7 a.m. and arrived at Neah Bay around 3:30 p.m.
The only floats appeared to belong to a seafood company, but a man on a fishing boat said they were public floats and we could tie there. He also said there was a space on the other side of the wharf, so we went around there. Had a little difficulty docking, because the wind was blowing, and I was rushing around as usual, changing lines and fenders from port to starboard, so I wasn't ready when the boat reached the dock, and we had to make a second pass. That time, I threw the small grappling anchor and caught the dock on the first try. Also, the man who had told us we could tie up there came down and tied the bow line. We put out a lot of fenders and lines and soon were secure, but after all that work, when we went to the office, the woman said the floats were only for commercial fishing boats and we couldn't stay there. Roy asked her if we could stay for an hour or so, and she said that would be all right, so we walked to the general store and bought a few groceries. Then we moved the boat to an anchorage.
So now we're only six miles from Cape Flattery, but it looks as if we'll be stuck here for several days, as gale-force winds out of the southeast are predicted for tomorrow and Wednesday. When we were heading north, the wind was out of the north, and now that we want to go south, it's out of the south.
Neah Bay is a small village. There isn't much here, but the harbor is well-protected. All we need is patience -- and we want it right now !
By the way, the entrance to Neah Bay is between Waadah Island and Baadah Point. No kidding. If you don't believe me, look on a chart.

Sunday, September 27, 1992 - Port Angeles, WA

Another change in the weather. Today was totally calm, clear, sunny. We could have made it to Neah Bay, but Roy wanted to finish working on the generator, and we wanted to attend the Aquafair events. Most of them were canceled yesterday due to the wind, but today all signals were go.
At ten o'clock, we watched the Coast Guard Search and Rescue demonstration. A helicopter lifted a man out of the water. (The blast from the rotors nearly drowned him first!) Then the oil skimmer "Shearwater" and the tall ship "Lady Washington" came in and we watched them dock. At noon, we toured the Coast Guard cutter "Active"
and the "Shearwater". Both very interesting. However, when the guide on the "Active" was asked how fast ten knots is, he didn't have a clue, so I explained it.
After lunch, we toured the "Lady Washington", which is a replica of an old square-rigger. Watched a guy climb the rope ladder to the first spar. Found out the poop deck got its name from the "pupi", or images of saints, that the Genoese put on the aft railing.
At two o'clock, there was a kayak demonstration. We considered taking our Royaks, but when we saw that it was being put on by a store trying to sell its kayaks, we decided not to.
Roy figured out that the generator problem was caused by a faulty igniter, so we'll be cooking with propane until we get somewhere where we can have it fixed.

Saturday, September 26, 1992 - Port Angeles, WA

What changeable weather! Yesterday, it was clear and sunny with a 15-knot northwest wind. This morning, it was cloudy and rainy with a southeast gale, 30 to 40 knots. This afternoon, it was clear and sunny with a northwest gale. Weird. We were very glad we were tied securely to a dock, even if the dock does jump around. The harbor was full of waves and whitecaps. If this wind keeps up, we might never get away from here.
In the morning, Roy worked on the generator and almost got it running. I walked over to Safeway and bought a few groceries. Then I packed a picnic lunch and we caught the free bus to Lake Crescent. Roy would have rather finished the work on the generator, but he very sweetly acceded to my wishes.
We walked on a very nice trail to Marymere Falls. The forest and the falls were really beautiful. We ate our lunch next to the falls and then walked back to the lodge. Strolled along the lovely lake until it was time to catch the bus back to Port Angeles.
There's a marine lab on the city pier near where we're docked. They held an Open House this afternoon, so we went to that. Saw a lot of starfish, crabs, anemones, etc.
The local Indian tribe held a salmon-bake fundraiser right outside the lab, so we bought supper there and ate it on the boat. The corn on the cob was good, but the salmon was overcooked.

Friday, September 25, 1992 - Port Angeles, WA

The rain finally stopped. Glorious day today! Clear and sunny, but windy and brisk. Fall is in the air, and leaves are turning colors.
I wanted to ride the bus out to Lake Crescent, but the generator isn't working again, so Roy wanted to stay on the boat and fix it. He also wanted to change the impeller, lubricate the anchor winch, replace the manual bilge pump, etc.
I told Roy I'd go price oil for him. To my amazement, I hadn't been on the bus five minutes until I saw Roy waiting at a bus stop. When he got on, he was as surprised to see me as I had been to see him. So we went to Payless together, and he bought a new watch to replace the one that broke a few weeks ago. He also bought a case of oil. There was a minor dispute over how many 20's Roy had laid on the counter. The clerk gave him change for $40, but Roy was certain he'd put down three 20's. The manager came over and counted the cash. Sure enough, it was $20 over, so the extra 20 was returned to Roy.
After we returned to the boat, Roy began working on the impeller, and I went for a walk. It was an absolutely perfect day for walking. I went out Ediz Head as far as I could go, about 4 1/2 miles. The wind was really blowing, and the surf was crashing against the rocks and throwing spray way up in the air.
When I got back to the boat, Roy was gone, so I read. He came back with a fresh haircut. He had replaced the impeller, lubricated the winch, and installed the new bilge pump, but the generator still doesn't work.
In the evening, we went to a "Campfire Talk" at the marine lab. It was somewhat disappointing. It was about testing water quality.

Thursday, September 24, 1992 - Port Angeles,WA

It's a good thing we hauled out this morning; all three blades of the propeller were bent, the zinc was missing, and the nut was broken. If we'd tried to wait until we got to Richmond to haul out, we'd have had major problems. We were also lucky that a guy came by who just happened to have the right-sized nut. I'd already checked every marine-supply store in town without finding it and was thinking I'd have to rent a car and drive into Seattle to get one. So Roy was able to replace the prop and the zinc and the nut, and we were back in the water in two hours. And they only charged $127 for the haulout.
Our timing was perfect, too. We went over early in the morning when it was calm and got back just as the wind was starting to pick up. By evening, it was really blowing, and these docks were jumping all over the place, but we had plenty of lines and fenders out.
In the afternoon, we took another free bus ride about 20 miles to Lyre River Park. We thought it would be a State or County park, but it turned out to be a private RV park and campground. We strolled around for a couple of hours anyway.
When we were in Victoria, someone told us the people in Port Angeles aren't friendly to boaters. Ha! Everyone we've met so far has been as friendly and nice as can be, even the bus drivers. They couldn't be any nicer.

Wednesday, September 23, 1992 - Port Angeles, WA

In the morning, we walked over to the marina where the travel-lift is located to arrange for a "hanging haulout", so Roy can replace the damaged propeller. (The boat is lifted out of the water and held dangling but not placed on land.) We were going to have it done today at one o'clock, but by the time we got back to the boat, the wind was starting to blow and rain was sprinkling, so Roy phoned them and postponed the haulout until 8:30 tomorrow morning. Then we walked over to the Post Office and mailed some postcards.
The bus fare here is unbelievable -- it's FREE! For people over 65, that is. And the buses don't just run around Port Angeles; they go 30-40 or more miles out in the country, to places like Sequim and Neah Bay and even La Push! So we hopped on the first bus that came along, rode around Port Angeles, and then took the bus to Sequim (pronounced "Swim"), about 20 miles east of here. We ate a delicious lunch at a pleasant little restaurant, walked around a while, and then rode the shuttle bus around Sequim. Next, we rode out to Dungeness Bay and back. Then we took a bus to Diamond Head Point, a very scenic ride. Went past the John Wayne Marina, where he used to keep his boat. Passed Sequim Bay and went to Discovery Bay. A hundred years ago, Diamond Head was a quarantine station for immigrants from the Orient. Now it's a pleasant little community.
When we returned to Port Angeles, we stopped at Safeway for a few groceries. By then it was really pouring, so we were glad we could take the bus instead of having to walk.

Tuesday, September 22, 1992 - Port Angeles, WA

Another warm day, but a little cooler and cloudier than yesterday.
Went over to the British Columbia Records and Archives Services to see what we could find out about Swanson Bay and Butedale. There had been a pulp mill at Swanson Bay. It had been built in 1918, changed hands several times in the 20's, started going out of business in the 30's, and shut down completely in the early 40's. Didn't find out much about Butedale, except than in addition to the cannery, there had been mining and logging activities there.
After lunch, we chugged 17 miles across the strait to Port Angeles. Couldn't have had a much nicer day for it.
As soon as Roy got Customs clearance (by phone), we walked over to Safeway and restocked our grocery supply. What a difference in the vegetables and the prices!

Monday, September 21, 1992 - Victoria, BC

What a perfect day! Bright blue sky, warm sun, clear air, calm water. Couldn't be nicer.
In the morning, Roy visited the maritime museum while I did the laundry. After lunch, we got out our bikes and went for a ride. Crossed the bridge to Esquimalt. Found park after park after park, each one lovely. Explored a lot of little coves. It was a perfect day for bike riding. Saw the replica of Anne Hathaway's cottage. Saw some old fortifications from World War II. Watched some people climbing a rock cliff right next to a sign that said, "Rock Climbing Prohibited". One kid didn't have a rope or anything except a bag of chalk for his fingers; he zoomed all over the face of the cliff like a human fly.
After supper, Roy strolled around and listened to the street singers. I got out the charts for Washington, Oregon, and California, and put them in order. Tomorrow, we leave for Port Angeles.

Sunday, September 20, 1992 - Victoria, BC

Bought bus day passes for $3 each. Rode the bus to the world-
famous Butchart Gardens and spent a couple of hours strolling among the myriad beautiful flowers. Ate a delicious, healthful lunch in the cafeteria, with green plants all around us.
Rode the bus to the small town of Sidney and walked around. They were having inline-skate races for kids and young adults, so we watched that for a while. Boy, did those kids have lots of energy!
We were on our way back to the bus when lo and behold! Roy saw a couple of guys he knew from Marina Bay! They used to have their boat near his. Now they've retired and sailed up here. They're very nice guys. Drove us around in their car. Showed us a lot of beautiful places we probably wouldn't have seen otherwise. Also showed us some other marinas. Then they took us back to the boat.
After they had left, we took a bus to the Gorge. It's so narrow there that the water sometimes rushes through at 10 knots and creates a lot turbulence, but it wasn't doing much when we were there. Walked around the park a while and then returned to Victoria.
Just as we got off the bus, a couple of young guys started fighting on the sidewalk. They were really going at it hammer and tongs. A crowd gathered around to watch, but nobody tried to break them up.

Saturday, September 19, 1992 - Victoria, BC

Victoria! Such a clean, attractive city! Flowers everywhere. At night, the entire outline of the Parliament Building is lit with thousands of light bulbs. Looks like a fairyland palace.
We arrived around noon and tried to find a place to tie up at the city floats in front of the Empress Hotel. Fortunately, there weren't any vacancies. I say "fortunately" because we found out there were better floats a block away at half the price! We arrived at exactly the right moment; a sailboat was just pulling away from the outermost dock, so we zipped into the vacated spot. Later in the day, the entire marina filled up, so we were very glad we got here when we did.
Walked around town, ate lunch, and bought a few groceries. After supper, we strolled some more. Wandered around the impressive lobby of the Empress Hotel. On the waterfront, we watched an artist producing pictures with great rapidity and heard a street musician singing and playing a guitar. This is a very pleasant place to be.

Friday, September 18, 1992 - Arbutus Cove, BC

Well, the day got off to a great start. We got up bright and early, ready to make tracks for Victoria. All was well; we headed out of the harbor shortly after seven. All of a sudden, THUMP! It sounded as if we'd hit a piece of wood. Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. A piece of very heavy, submerged rope (hawser) had caught in the prop and twisted around it. The engine was laboring and the whole boat shaking. Roy turned off the engine and we dropped anchor -- in 116 feet of water! Actually, we were lucky; it could have happened in much deeper water or in heavy wind and waves. Fortunately, it was totally calm and fairly warm.
I got in Roy's Royak and tried to pull the rope off with the boathook, but it wouldn't budge. Roy had to suit up, dive, and cut it off with a sharp knife. The actual cutting took a few seconds, but the whole process, including pulling up 250 feet of anchor chain, took about 3 hours. Jofian is very lucky to have an expert SCUBA diver on board.
There might have been some damage to the propeller; we weren't able to get quite up to full speed.
Due to the delay, we didn't quite make it to downtown Victoria, but we made it to the suburbs. Dropped anchor in Arbutus Cove. In the morning, all we have to do is bop around the peninsula and we'll be in downtown Victoria.
Most of the afternoon, we had straddled the boundary. Our left feet were in the U.S. and our right feet were in Canada.
We were dismayed to see a pall of sickly, yellow-green smog hanging over the Strait of Juan de Fuca and Puget Sound. It probably came from Bellingham and Everett. First smog we've seen in weeks.

Thursday, September 17, 1992 - Gabriola Island, BC

The sun came out! Warmest day yet, and we even had a following sea, so we zoomed along. Had the sails up most of the afternoon and were even able to turn the engine off for a couple of hours.
We could see the naval planes over Whiskey Golf. Of course, we were at a safe distance.
Arrived at the south end of Gabriola Island in the early evening. There was a whole cluster of small islands, so it was difficult to figure out which was which, but we finally caught a glimpse of a marina and headed towards it. The Royal Vancouver Yacht Club has a branch marina here. We tied up there, thinking we could get reciprocal privileges, but it turned out that only RVYC members can use the out-stations, so we left the dock and anchored in 25 feet of water.

Wednesday, September 16, 1992 - Shelter Point, BC

As we get farther south, the days get warmer, but the nights are still cold. There must be a 40 degree Fahrenheit difference between the highest daytime temperature and the lowest nighttime temperature. On the radio this morning, the temperature in Campbell River was given as zero degrees centigrade! AAAARGH! That's FREEZING! If it was zero in Campbell River, it was zero where we were, just a few miles away. The highest temperature was 5 degrees centigrade in Vancouver.
Roy seems to be just about over his cold, thank goodness. It sure hung on a long time. We're both in excellent health, despite the weather.
Lost our warm sunshine today. It was cloudy, windy, and raw, with a light sprinkle (very light) in the evening. And of course, the wind was out of the southeast.
We heard an ongoing drama on the VHF. A 38-foot fishing boat had gone aground on Shingle Spit, Hornby Island. Two other boats and the Coast Guard were trying to render aid. The skipper, of course, did not want to abandon ship; he wanted to have the boat pulled off the reef, but apparently that wasn't feasible at the time. The last we heard, a Coast Guard hovercraft was on its way to take the men off the boat. I hope the skipper was later able to return with a tug and salvage his boat.
We had planned on going around Lasqueti Island to avoid Whiskey Golf, but we were making so little headway against the wind that we decided to go to Texada Island and hide behind Dick Island. Made one more attempt to reach Lasqueti but soon turned back and dropped anchor just off Shelter Point Campground.
Dick Island is privately owned and has a little cabin on it. At low tide, a shoal connects it to Texada, but at high tide, it's isolated again. There's a big "Absolutely No Trespassing" sign.
Paddled ashore at Shelter Point and walked around. This is a beautiful campground with lots of tall trees and a great view of the water. The place was practically deserted.
Bought ice cream cones at the concession stand. Met a very pleasant couple, who told us about flower stones. Flower stones are small gray rocks with white patterns that resemble flowers. They're considered semi-precious and are made into jewelry. Remarkably, they're found in only two parts of the world: Japan and Shelter Point! The couple gave us one that they had found on the beach. Roy later found one on his own.
Walked along a lovely trail through the woods and beside the water. The sound of little waves splashing on the beach was so pleasant.
When we got back to the Royaks, the woman we had met earlier was there. She gave us two doughnuts and her address. (Earlier, she had given us a home-grown tomato.) Roy gave her a Royak brochure. If the photos they took of the Jofian come out well, they'll mail us copies.

Tuesday, September 15, 1992 - Oyster River, BC

Last night, Roy paddled around, trolling his fishing line, but didn't get a nibble, so he tied the pole to the boat and let the line dangle all night. This morning, there was a fish on it! It was a little baby shark, about two feet long. It will make a couple of meals.
Another glorious day! Not a cloud in the sky, sunny and warm, no wind.
Around 9:30, I came up to the cockpit, looked out the front window, and saw what looked like a huge barge being pulled by a tugboat several miles ahead of us. When I told Roy, he looked at it through his binoculars and thought it was a small island with tall trees growing on it. I looked through my binoculars and thought it was a very large ship -- either a naval vessel or a freighter, but when I told Roy, he thought I was kidding, so he kidded me back. He was sure it was an island, but I finally convinced him I was serious. He looked through his binoculars again and agreed with me. Then it got closer, and we saw it was a huge barge being pulled by a tugboat. It was bearing down on a small sailboat that seemed completely oblivious to its presence. Fortunately, the guy on the sailboat woke up just in time to get out of its way.
We heard a Coast Guard announcement on the VHF that naval maneuvers were being held in "Area Whiskey Golf". Live torpedoes were being fired, so it was extremely dangerous. All vessels were warned to stay well clear of the area. We had no idea where "Area Whiskey Golf" was, but we assumed it must be out in the ocean; they certainly wouldn't be firing live torpedoes in the Inside Passage, with so many boats roaming around. Nevertheless, to be on the safe side, I contacted the Coast Guard at Comox and asked them where "Area Whiskey Golf" was. They said it was 15 miles east of Ballenas Island. We knew we'd seen Ballenas Island on a chart, but we couldn't remember which one. We assumed it was north in Queen Charlotte Sound. Finally we found the chart. Ballenas Island was SOUTH -- right where we were planning on going tomorrow! What a stupid place for target practice! It's in Georgia Strait, between Nanaimo and Vancouver! That's almost as bad as having it in San Francisco Bay. So now we have to make a big detour. Thank goodness we heard that announcement!
Our timing for the Seymour Narrows was just right -- slack turning to flood, so we had the current with us. This time, I got to take her through. Big deal; it couldn't have been calmer. But the current pushed us through at 9.2 knots (over the ground), which was fun, and we went through some eddies and rips.
Our next problem was where to spend the night. It was around four when we passed Campbell River. The next harbor was at Comox, 25 miles away. We could make it before dark if we kept going at 9 knots, but we wouldn't, because the current from the south would soon meet the current from the north. We didn't want to cross to the other side of the strait, so we decided to anchor near Oyster River. It didn't provide much protection, but there wasn't much wind anyway. There's a private marina here, but the channel into it is very narrow and is only two feet deep at low tide, so we decided to stay outside. Paddled around the marina and only saw a couple of large sailboats. Most of the boats were little motorboats.
We were going to pull our Royaks up the ramp and walk around, but there was a sign saying, "Launch Fee $6". Roy went over to the store and asked if that included kayaks. He was told, "If you use the ramp, you pay," so we didn't use the ramp.
We went around to the river and started to paddle up it but didn't get very far, as it got shallow very fast. A couple of guys were fishing for cutthroat trout and pink salmon.
Pulled our Royaks up on the bank and walked around. In addition to the marina, the resort had a big RV park and some cabins. Biggest, fanciest RV park we've ever seen. There was room for hundreds of RV's. Each place had electricity, water, and a picnic table. There was plenty of room and lots of grass and trees. There was also a laundromat, swimming pool, tennis courts, golf driving range, soccer field, playground, etc. The place was huge! We walked around until nearly dark and then returned to the boat.
We'd been on the boat only a few minutes when a little motorboat without lights pulled up and asked the way to the marina. It was too dark to see. I pointed out the general direction, and Roy shined the spotlight on the channel markers, which helped tremendously. When last seen, they were headed in the right direction. (The channel markers had no lights.)
The shark made a good supper. Tender and tasty. Somewhat reminiscent of scallops in both texture and taste.

Monday, September 14, 1992 - West Thurlow Island, BC

The temperature in the main cabin this morning was 48 degrees Fahrenheit. And the heater doesn't work. But the day was sunny and soon warmed up. In fact, it was a totally beautiful day!
We covered 48 miles and even got to sail for a couple of hours with the engine off. Went down Johnstone Strait and through Race Passage. Anchored in Vere Cove at the tip of West Thurlow Island. Tomorrow, Discovery Passage and Seymour Narrows!

Sunday, September 13, 1992 - Alert Bay, BC

Roy talked on the phone with his daughter Carol and found out his sister-in-law Marge has died, which is a blessing, as she's been in great pain with incurable cancer. Also, his younger brother Paul died, his grandson broke his arm, and his granddaughter is going back into the hospital to have her tumor drained, so the news was far from cheerful.
Roy put the generator back together, and it worked fine, so we left Port Hardy around eleven. Lovely sunny day. Motored easily to Alert Bay. Had the headsail out, too.
We were going to go to the marina, but it was packed, so then we went over to the mooring buoys, but they didn't have rings. Right in front of us was a nearly empty government float, so we zoomed over there and tied up. Perfect! Easy to get in and out. Only $8 a night. No electricity, but the generator works perfectly now, so that's ok. No protection, so we bounce occasionally, but no big deal. We've got a good place to spend the night, and we got here early enough to take a little walk before supper.
Roy tried to catch a fish, with his usual success. Fortunately, I bought fish at the grocery store in Port Hardy.
After supper, we walked up the hill to 'Gator Gardens. Can you believe a Florida swamp on top of a mountain on an island in British Columbia? It was very interesting. Didn't see any alligators, though.
Walked over to the ferry dock and watched the Port MacNeill ferry come in. Very few passengers.

Saturday, September 12, 1992 - Port Hardy, BC

Very calm, sunny morning, so we turned the boat around, and Roy scrubbed the tire marks off the hull. (No, we weren't run over. Many docks have old tires hanging on the sides to keep boats from banging the dock. They make a great mess of a white hull.)
Loaded the dirty clothes in our little cart and took them to the laundromat. The blue sky disappeared behind gray clouds and the rain started coming down, so Roy brought a raincoat, umbrella, and canvas cover to the laundromat, but before the clothes were through drying, the sun came out again.
After lunch, Roy began taking the generator apart, and I bought a bunch of groceries. He found a lot of carbon on the valves, so he ground it off. I got a much-needed haircut.

Friday, September 11, 1992 - Port Hardy, BC

Left Safety Cove shortly before dawn. Interesting trip across the strait. The weather was sunny, with very little breeze. The ocean swells rocked us a bit, but that was no problem. We were motoring along blissfully when all of a sudden the engine started acting strangely. It would rev up and down spontaneously. At first, we thought it was the same problem we had had last February outside the Gate. That time, it turned out the fuel shutoff valve had vibrated shut, so that was the first thing Roy checked today, but this time the valve was open. The engine settled down for a while, but then it started acting up again and eventually quit altogether. We had the headsail out, but there wasn't much breeze, so we crawled along at one knot, but at least we were able to stay on course and off the rocks. Roy put on his diesel mechanic's hat and descended to the engine compartment. Within an hour he'd located the problem: the fuel shutoff valve was clogged. By noon, the engine was running again, in time to avoid a big cruise ship.
The rest of the trip was uneventful and pleasant. Arrived at Port Hardy about four p.m. Tied to the Esso dock. Filled the tank and 8 or 9 jerry cans. One of the spouts fell into a can, but the store at the dock had extra caps, so that problem was quickly solved.
We walked over to the marina and were lucky enough to find a berth. It looked plenty big enough when we were standing on the dock, but when we brought the boat over, there was barely enough room to squeeze in. Fortunately, a man standing on the dock helped us tie up.

Thursday, September 10, 1992 - Safety Cove, BC

SUNSHINE! Sometime during the night the rain stopped. The day was clear, sunny, warm, and calm. What a contrast to yesterday!
Roy made a feeble attempt to retrieve the crab trap with his fishing line but soon gave up. Time is more valuable than the trap; we don't want to waste any of this beautiful day.
Enjoyed a delightful cruise south. In Fitzhugh Sound, there was enough of a breeze to raise the mainsail and headsail, but we continued running the engine, too. Zoomed along at 6 1/2 to 7 knots.
Covered 54 miles today. Anchored in Safety Cove just before dark. About a dozen other boats were there, but there was plenty of room. If this good weather holds out, we'll cross Queen Charlotte Strait tomorrow and reach Port Hardy.
Beautiful full moon tonight.

Wednesday, September 9, 1992 - Oliver Cove, BC

It rained steadily all day and will probably continue raining all night. We were certainly lucky to have had that break in the weather yesterday when we explored Butedale.
Had a fairly strong head-wind today but still made good time.
Towards the end of my 10-12 watch, I was congratulating myself on not encountering any big ships. Suddenly, I had a strange feeling there was a big ship nearby. I turned on the radar, and sure enough, there was a big blob in back of us. I turned around and looked out the back window. Yikes! There was a huge cruise ship coming right at us! Boy, did I change course in a hurry! I made a bee-line for the right bank. Five minutes later, the Nieuw Amsterdam zoomed by down the center of the channel, right where we had been.
A little while later, a northbound cruise ship hailed us on the VHF to warn us the wind was blowing 32 knots in Milbanke Sound. That was very, very considerate of him, and I thanked him, even though we weren't planning on going to Milbanke Sound; we were going to duck behind an island, out of the wind.
Earlier in the day, a guy on a northbound sailboat had talked with us on the VHF for several minutes. He was headed to Haines to spend the (brrr) winter.
The only untoward incident of the day occurred shortly after we anchored in Oliver Cove. Roy was putting out the crab trap. He let go of it for a few seconds to get a longer line. The single knot came untied and down went the trap, glub glub glub. In 32 feet of water. Cold water. I don't think Roy's going to dive for it. Oh well, it's no great loss; we never caught any crabs anyway.
This is a nice, quiet, peaceful little cove. It's very calm, but we put out two anchors anyway.

Tuesday, September 8, 1992 - Green Inlet, BC

The generator conked out again halfway through breakfast, and this time Roy couldn't start it again, so we have to cook on the propane stove, and we're wondering how we're going to cook the rest of the salmon.
All the boats were gone except the two disabled fishing boats and the Jofian. Then a third disabled boat came in! There's also a young guy with a kayak. He paddled his kayak all the way from Seattle!
The rain let up for a while this morning, and the sun almost came out. We paddled over to the waterfall, which is a magnificent raging torrent from all the rain. Then we paddled back to "town", pulled our Royaks out of the water, and went exploring.
There was a very large fish cannery here fifty or more years ago, but it's been abandoned for a long time. The buildings were sturdily built, and many are still in fairly good condition. Also, there's a lot of machinery that was left behind. We had explored the huge warehouse on our way north but didn't have time to check out the rest of the buildings. The whole place is overgrown with bushes and brambles, so we had a hard time finding a way to get up the hill to the houses. This morning, we went to the far end of the big warehouse. There was a room with an old tractor in it, and just beyond the tractor was a doorway. We went through the door and followed a path past an old building and up the hill. There was a three-storey building that might have been a hotel or housing for the workers. The floors and stairs were still solid, so we went all over, looking into all the rooms. There were about 75 bedrooms, several bathrooms, a lounge area, and even a laundry room with automatic washers and dryers, which indicates the place was in use at least as recently as the fifties.
Vandals have had a heyday here. Everything that could be smashed had been smashed. There's scarcely a whole pane of glass in the entire town, plumbing fixtures have been ripped out or broken, furniture wrecked, holes kicked in walls, etc.
We went into what had been the mess hall. There were long tables in the dining room and a big old wood stove in the kitchen. There was a big walk-in refrigerator that still had cartons of ancient eggs and a box of shriveled-up oranges.
Higher on the hill were five small houses. They too had been vandalized. We were able to go into most of them, but the floor had collapsed in the fifth.
We followed a path in back of the houses, past the electrical transformers, to another big building with machinery in it and what looked like holding tanks for the fish. We couldn't go any farther in that direction, so we walked back to the other end of the path. Found a wooden bridge across a torrential stream. I was afraid of it, but Roy went across and said it was safe, so I followed. It was good and solid. At the other end of the bridge was a well-built cement building that housed the turbines. The turbines are driven by the cascading water and are still turning after all these years! Roy was thrilled. He explained the whole operation to me.
Across the stream from the turbine house was a small house that apparently had been the residence of the person in charge of the turbines. Roy checked it out, too, but I wasn't about to cross the stream on those broken old boards. Besides, it was after one o'clock, and I was famished.
Returned to the boat and weighed anchor. Went over to the waterfall so Roy could take some pictures of the Jofian in front of the waterfall. Then we took off down Graham Reach, eating lunch as we went.
We felt bad about leaving all those people with their disabled boats, but there really wasn't much we could do for them. At best, we could have towed one boat a short distance, but we certainly couldn't have towed all three, and we couldn't have even towed one far enough to do him any good. They were better off staying at Butedale. The Coast Guard knew where they were, and I'm sure in due course boats would come along to tow them to Port Hardy or Prince Rupert.
We turned into Green Inlet, intending to anchor in Horsefly Cove, but it turned out to be much deeper than the charts indicated, so we crossed the inlet and anchored off a sandy beach in about 30 feet of water. Put out two anchors and 90 feet of chain. Very peaceful.
Roy cooked a delicious supper in the pressure cooker. The salmon turned out even better than in the microwave, so he cooked enough for sandwiches for tomorrow's lunch.

Labor Day, September 7, 1992 - Butedale, BC

The wind howled all night, the waves splashed, the boat rocked, the rain pattered, but our anchors held. We were in the same place this morning that we were in last night.
Heard on the radio that winds are gusting to 55 at Egg Island. That's on the other side of Queen Charlotte Sound.
The storm raged here all morning but suddenly quit at noon, so we took off. Totally calm by evening when we reached Butedale.
Not as many boats here this time, but there are five in addition to ours. A guy on another boat gave Roy a fresh salmon, so now we have fish for supper.
The generator quit yesterday, so Roy had to work on it to get it going again.
The fishing boat where the guy gave Roy the fish is disabled and waiting for a tow to Port Hardy. We heard on the VHF that another fishing boat is disabled off Griffin Point, about eight miles from here. About nine o'clock tonight, a small cruise ship with a zillion lights came into the bay, towing the second disabled boat. We also saw a tugboat towing something, but it took off. All kinds of excitement tonight, but it's too dark to see much of what's going on.

Sunday, September 6, 1992 - Promise Island, BC

Amazing how quickly the weather changes. Yesterday evening was calm as could be, but last night the wind started howling. We're very, very lucky we crossed Dixon Entrance when we did; the wind is now blowing 20 to 30 knots there with predicted storm winds of 50 knots and 15-foot seas! There are similar conditions at Queen Charlotte Sound, so we're also lucky we're not there. In fact, we couldn't have picked a better place to be in a storm. Yet even here in our sheltered cove, we dragged several hundred feet with 90 feet of chain! We were eating breakfast when we realized we were in only 11 feet of water! And it was high tide! So we interrupted breakfast and got out of there in a hurry.
As usual, the crab trap contained only a starfish.
Grenville Channel was full of whitecaps when we poked our nose out there, but we were able to make 4 knots, and later in the day, the wind calmed down quite a bit.
We're in a race now with time and weather, trying to get back to the relative safety of San Francisco Bay while we still can. We should reach Victoria around the middle of September. Then we'll bop across to Port Angeles and be back in the U.S. The hard part of the trip will come when we round the cape and head back down the coast.
Spent the day motoring down the Grenville Channel. Wouldn't you know -- when I was at the helm, we practically had a traffic jam. A big tugboat pulling a big barge was coming up in back of us, while a huge cruise ship and another big ship were approaching us. And the channel was only 3/4 of a mile wide! Fortunately, everyone got by ok.
The weather was wet and cold all day. I was wearing five and sometimes six layers of clothing. Thank goodness we have the snug, dry doghouse! And windshield wipers. It rained all day and will probably rain all night.
Reached the end of Grenville Channel in time to anchor behind Promise Island just before dark. We anchored on a broad shelf in 42 feet of water. This time, we put out two anchors and 150 feet of chain.

Saturday, September 5, 1992 - Kumealon Inlet, BC

Roy got a Canadian fishing license this morning. Also some lures and stuff.
He let me take the boat away from the dock for the first time. There was no wind and we had plenty of room, so it was easy.
We went to the Esso dock for diesel, but we were a couple of miles down the channel before we remembered we needed gas for the generator, so we had to double back. We tried to go to the Shell dock, which was nearby, but it was closed, so we went to the Chevron dock, which was almost as far back as the Esso dock. All this cost us a couple of hours, so it was noon by the time we got away from Prince Rupert. We had hoped to spend the night at Lowe Inlet, but we didn't have time to get there, so we anchored in the same quiet, secluded cove by Kumealon Inlet that we'd anchored in on the way north. This time we didn't have it all to ourselves, however; two other boats arrived shortly after we did. There was plenty of room for all of us.
Roy put out the crab trap and also tried to fish. Hope he has better luck with the crabs than he did with the fish.

Friday, September 4, 1992 - Prince Rupert, BC

Another calm, sunny day. Left Dundas Island before dawn and arrived in Prince Rupert around two. This time, the guy from Customs came out and inspected the boat. Most thorough inspection we've ever had. We passed okay.
Walked over to Safeway with our blue wagon and replenished our food supply. Prices here are ridiculously high. We bought $50 worth of groceries for $80. It's a good thing we don't smoke -- cigarettes are $5.37 a pack!

Thursday, September 3, 1992 - Dundas Island, BC

We're really headed home now. Zoomed down the coast to Dixon Entrance and across to Dundas Island in Canada. Very calm day. Even had some sunshine. We've certainly been lucky with the weather. Dixon Entrance can be wild and stormy, but it was calm for us, both going and coming. Even had a nice little southwest breeze, so we were able to sail on a beam reach.
Yesterday, we heard the Coast Guard on VHF radio trying to contact a fishing boat, Sharon A., that had gone aground at Black Rock. This morning, they announce that the boat had sunk. A few hours later, we went within a hundred yards of it. It was eerie, seeing the tops of the spars sticking out of the water at a crazy angle. Presumably, all hands were rescued; the Coast Guard wasn't far away.

Wednesday, September 2, 1992 - Smeaton Bay, AK

Nothing but a starfish, a conch, and the putrid fish in the crab trap. Roy had fun getting the dead fish out of the trap without touching it.
We paddled ashore and hiked up a terrific trail through dense rain forest to Punchbowl Lake. We were amazed to find a great many wooden walkways and steps. The Forest Service has certainly expended a great deal of effort constructing and maintaining this trail.
Went by a magnificent waterfall. Saw lots of towering rock cliffs. The lake was lovely. We were astonished to find a sturdily built shelter at the end of the trail! If we'd had more time, we could have brought up our sleeping bags and spent a couple of nights there. There was also an outhouse and even a rowboat! Comments in the guest book indicated a lot of people had rowed around the lake. Some had even gone swimming! The place had been quite popular in June, July, and August, but no one else was there now.
Returned to the boat, ate lunch, and left for Smeaton Bay. Just as we were entering the cove where we were planning on spending the night, we saw a black bear walking along the shore. As soon as he saw us, he trotted into the woods.

Tuesday, September 1, 1992 - Punchbowl Cove, AK

It's the first of September and we're headed south, right on schedule. Nice and calm today. Even had a little sunshine between the showers.
Motored down the eastern portion of the Behm Canal, enjoying the lovely scenery. Mountains on both sides, some of them snow-capped. Turned into Rudyerd Bay, the misty fjord. Before us loomed a vertical rock wall, 3150 feet high! Awesome!
There are several arms in Rudyerd Bay, and we explored all but one of them. Magnificent scenery everywhere we looked! Towering mountains, plunging waterfalls. And all unspoiled -- no roads, no buildings, no litter. We saw one boat and a seaplane; otherwise, we had the entire place to ourselves.
A lot of dead salmon were floating in the water. Roy had me (ugh!) scoop one up in the fish net. He used it to (ugh!) bait the crab trap. It will be interesting to see what it catches.
Used the "Happy Hooker" Al Snider gave us to attach a line to the mooring buoy in Punchbowl Cove. It worked flawlessly on the first try.

Monday, August 31, 1992 - Fitzgibbon Cove, AK

Got a really good night's sleep. Woke up to a gentle rain. It's so quiet and peaceful here. Except for the lodge, it's total wilderness, just as it was centuries ago. More than ever, we feel as though we're on a lovely lake, high in the mountains. All around us are dense woods and mountain tops lost in clouds. The water is totally calm except for tiny ripples from the raindrops and the splash of leaping fish. No waves, no wind, no surf -- how can this be the ocean?
Had a great time paddling in the rain. The chart showed a tramway going to Lake MacDonald, but all I found were some wooden posts, so old that plants were growing out of them, and a broken, twisted piece of unrecognizable metal.
Saw an incredible number of bald eagles. Most flew away when I approached, but some sat right where they were and looked at me. They were probably guarding their nests.
A big school of fish swam by me so close I probably could have caught one if I'd had a net.
We left Yes Bay around two and went over to the Bell Island Hot Spring Resort. We were thinking of spending the night there and soaking in the hot spring, but when we talked to them on the VHF, they said we couldn't stay overnight, and the pool that's fed by the hot spring is closed, so we kept going through the Behm Narrows. Some porpoises played around the bow, reminding us that yes, we really are on the ocean. Then we rounded Point Whaley and knew we were on the ocean! The wind was suddenly blowing 20 knots and there were whitecaps all over. Fortunately, we were only a couple of miles from Fitzgibbon Cove, so we scooted over there and dropped anchor (two anchors) in relative calm.

Sunday, August 30, 1992 - Yes Bay, AK

Mailed a bunch of postcards and got ready to leave. There were two big fat fishing boats in back of us and another on the other side of the fairway, so there was no way to get out. Fortunately, two guys from the Harbor Master's office came by and moved one of the fishing boats. We swung the Jofian around with lines and departed.
Beautiful clear, sunny day! Stopped at a nice new fuel dock. Filled the tank and all the jerry cans. Also got two gallons of oil.
Headed up the Behm Canal towards Misty Fjords National Monument. Don't be fooled by the word "canal"; this is a completely natural waterway.
We turned into Yes Bay, which is really more of an inlet than a bay. There's a big fishing lodge here, with its own docks and boats. This must be a fisherman's paradise; everywhere we looked, fish were leaping out of the water. I guess they're salmon. They're obviously some kind of salt-water fish.
We went past the lodge and dropped anchor in a secluded area. Put out two anchors and 140 feet of chain. The tidal range here is about twenty feet.
After supper, we started to go paddling, but it was getting dark, so we decided to return to the boat and paddle in the morning.

Saturday, August 29, 1992 - Ketchikan, AK

Slept late and ate a big breakfast. Sure good to be back on the Jofian.
It rained all day. We put on our rain gear, got out the wagon and a piece of canvas, and pulled the laundry to the laundromat and back. Then we pulled the wagon to the grocery store and back. So now we have clean clothes and plenty of food.

Friday, August 28, 1992 - Juneau, AK

Miserable night! We hung around the hostel living room until one a.m. Then we gathered up our gear and walked a block to where the bus would pick us up. The bus arrived on schedule and got us to the ferry terminal at two, but when we bought our tickets, we found out the ferry was 2 1/2 hours late! Expected in at 5! We could have gone to bed at 8 last night and slept until 4 this morning. Of course, Roy can sleep on a clothesline, so he stretched out on the waiting room floor and promptly fell asleep. I slept on a chair for an hour but woke up with a crick in my neck, so I stretched out on three or four chairs, but loud male voices kept talking, bright lights kept shining in my face, doors kept opening and slamming, and the chairs were hard as rocks. I didn't sleep much.
A fishing boat had gone aground in the narrows, and the ferry couldn't get by until the boat was out of the way.
The ferry arrived at five but spent more than half an hour unloading, so it was nearly six by the time we reached the solarium and got into our sleeping bags. Slept most of the day. Got up to eat, take long, hot showers, listen to the ranger presentations, and look at Petersburg and Wrangell from the boat. The ferry was trying to make up time, so it just stopped long enough to unload and load; through passengers weren't allowed ashore. But it was still two hours late when it reached Ketchikan and expected to be an hour late at Prince Rupert.
Arrived in Ketchikan around midnight, hopped in a cab, and headed for the City Docks. Jofian was just as we left her. What a beautiful sight!

Thursday, August 27, 1992 - Juneau, AK

It's sure easy to tell the locals from the tourists around here. The tourists are bundled up in longjohns, wool sweaters, long pants, and heavy jackets. The locals stroll around in shorts and T-shirts. Hey, it's summer!
Went to the Juneau Museum and got the brochure we should have had two days ago. It explains all the junk we saw at the old Treadwell Mine.
Rode the bus out to the trail on the west side of Mendenhall Glacier. Walked to the end of the trail. Had a fabulous view of the glacier. We thought we'd be able to walk on the glacier itself, but we were way above it.
Returned to Juneau and ate a delicious salmon dinner at the Fiddlehead.
The ferries run at all sorts of weird times. Our ferry back to Ketchikan leaves at -- ugh -- 3:45 a.m. The shuttle bus will pick us up at 1:30, so we're going to sit in the hostel living room until then. As soon as we get on the ferry, we'll stretch out our sleeping bags and sleep.

Wednesday, August 26, 1992 - Juneau, AK

Unfortunately, after Tracy Arm, Glacier Bay was a big letdown. The glaciers have been receding for 200 years and are now more than forty miles from the entrance, so we spent most of our time just getting there and back.
Got up at four a.m. and walked down to the Baranof Hotel, where a bus picked us up at 4:45 and took us to the airport. The plane was supposed to leave at 5:30 but didn't leave until nearly six. The plane was a nine-passenger Piper Chieftain, with an excellent pilot, who set her down so gently we scarcely knew we'd landed.
The flight took about twenty minutes. Then a bus took us over a flat dirt road to the lodge, where we boarded the boat. They have fantastic tides here, sometimes as much as 32 feet, so they have to have very long gangplanks. It was low tide this morning, so the gangplank was at a 30-degree angle. It was also wet and slippery. I did a little dipsy-doodle at the beginning, but no harm done.
The boat had a 400-passenger capacity -- a far cry from the luxury yacht we were on Monday. More importantly, we lacked the sense of intimacy with the glacier that we'd had on the smaller boat.
We went up the Tarr Inlet to the Queen of the Pacific and Margerie glaciers. The Queen was ugly black with dirt, but the Margerie was bluish and had lots of jagged peaks. A few little chunks fell off while we watched. There were some small pieces of ice floating around, but nowhere near as many as at Tracy Arm, and there weren't any seals on them.
A multi-million-dollar U.S. yacht was anchored near Margerie Glacier. Its tender was taking a bunch of people around to look at the glacier close up.
Lunch was crummy. They had about 100 sandwiches left over, which they handed out to anyone who wanted them, so we took some for supper tonight and lunch tomorrow.
The boat stopped a couple of times to let backpackers off at remote areas. The boat went right up to the beach and lowered a ladder.
We saw eagles, whales, sea lions, a couple of bears, and a mountain goat.
Flew back on an Alaska Airlines jet. It went up, and then it came down. We were in Juneau before we had time to think about it.
Had no problem getting beds at the hostel again, even though our three-night limit was up two days ago.

Tuesday, August 25, 1992 - Juneau, AK

Went to the State's Office of Vital Statistics. Just getting there was an experience. Went up to the eighth floor of the beautiful new State Office Building. It has a terrific view. Also has an ATM, so I tried my Versatel card again. Again it was rejected, so I phoned Bank of America Customer Service in San Francisco. As I suspected, a block had been put on the card, probably from all my unsuccessful attempts to use it the other night. The clerk released the block. After that, everything worked fine.
When we got to Vital Statistics in the Old State Office Building across the walkway, we found out Thais died June 17, 1987, so we went to the State Library in the new building and looked at the microfiched local paper for that date. They have a neat machine that not only displays and magnifies the microfiche but also prints a copy of whatever page you want. We found the article about Thais on June 18th, but it turned out her tragic accident didn't occur at Mendenhall Glacier; it was at Kenai Glacier, south of Anchorage. We printed the article to take with us.
Ate lunch at McDonald's and then took the bus across the bridge to Douglas Island. Passed a house that had a pet pig on its front lawn. Got off at the end of the line and walked the trails where the old Treadwell goldmine had been from 1880 until it flooded in 1917. (A Canadian company is now trying to buy it and reopen it.) We saw a lot of tumble-down buildings, rusty machinery, and old tracks, but we didn't find a shaft even though we walked all the way up the hill to the end of the trail. On a seldom-accessed trail, we found a tent, sleeping bag, and clothing that appeared to have been there a few weeks or months at the most. It looked as if someone had spent the night there and then gone hiking, fully intending to return but hadn't. Perhaps he'd fallen off a cliff or something. When we got back to Juneau, we phoned the police.
Tomorrow, Glacier Bay!

Monday, August 24, 1992 - Juneau, AK

What a great trip to Tracy Arm! There are two boats that go there. One costs $99, and the other $110. We took the latter, and it was well worth the extra $11. We were on a comfortable, fast yacht with a pleasant captain, who let us hang around the bridge. Lunch was included, which it wasn't on the other tour. Best of all, we went right up within 1/8 mile of the glacier! To get there, the boat had to plow through a bunch of floating chunks of ice (small blue icebergs that had fallen off the blue glacier). The water temperature was 32.5 degrees Fahrenheit! Hundreds of little seals were loafing on the ice or swimming in the water. The view was overwhelming! It was the greatest experience yet!
The captain knew all about Swanson Bay. He said they had made brick there. That's the last thing we would have guessed. So our curiosity was finally satisfied.
He also remembered a woman being crushed to death by a falling chunk of glacier four or five years ago at Mendenhall, so when we got back to Juneau, we went to the beautiful new public library and looked at the microfiched local newspaper for the summers of 1987 and 1988 (July through September), but we couldn't find anything about Roy's sister-in-law, Thais, who was crushed by a glacier four or five years ago. We didn't know the exact date.

Sunday, August 23, 1992 - Juneau, AK

Ate breakfast at a nice, clean, health-food restaurant, similar to the Good Earth. It had the unusual name of Fiddlehead, and was recommended by the hostel manager. Both the service and the food were excellent.
Took the city bus ($1) as close to the Mendenhall Glacier as it goes. Walked the other mile and a half.
The glacier has been receding 30 feet a year, so it's much farther away than it was the last time I was here. They've removed the walkways that used to go out over the glacier; the glacier's no longer there. We hiked up the East Glacier Loop Trail. When we were up about 500 feet, we could look right down on the waterfall and the glacier. Spectacular!
Walked through some beautiful green woods. Moisture seemed to hang in the air. We would have liked to walk farther, but the last bus runs at 5:30 on Sunday, so we had to return. Took a different trail than the one we'd come up. Passed a lot of old tracks, timbers, etc. When we got down to the Visitor Center, we asked a ranger about it. He said that back in the gold-mining days (1880-1944), the mining company had a huge generator up there. The tracks had been used to haul the generator and other machinery up the hill. The waterfall powered the generator, and the electricity went across the Gastineau Channel to the Treadwell Mine on Douglas Island.
We passed a lot of streams full of salmon struggling to reach their spawning grounds, plus the putrid, disintegrating corpses of salmon that had either made it or had died along the way.
When we got back to Juneau, we ate a delicious supper at the Fiddlehead.

Saturday, August 22, 1992 - Juneau, AK

Left Skagway on the 8:45 ferry. Had an hour-and-a-half layover in Haines, so we walked around a little, but didn't see much of anything except abandoned houses and a closed-down army base.
Arrived in Juneau around four. That is, we arrived at the Juneau ferry terminal, which is 13 miles from town. We were going to take the bus in, but Roy heard someone asking, "Are you going to the hostel?" Turned out a young woman who was traveling by herself was going to take a cab to the AYH hostel, and she wanted someone to share the cab with her (and the fare, of course). We immediately volunteered. That turned out to be a wise move. The hostel was packed; if we'd gotten there 15 minutes later, we wouldn't have been able to get in. Since we were near the head of the line, we were allowed to sleep on the living-room floor. The woman we shared the cab with slept on the floor of the upstairs hall.
After signing in and selecting our chores for tomorrow morning, we walked around looking for an ATM, a phone, and a place to eat. Found two ATM's. They accepted two of our cards but rejected the one I most wanted to use.
The public phone system here is weird. First of all, it's difficult to find a public phone, and when we finally did find one, we realized why: They only charge a dime! It's been twenty years since I made a phone call for a dime. Furthermore, you don't deposit the dime until after you've made your call, and there's nothing other than your conscience to force you to deposit it at all. In other words, you can make all the free phone calls you want! I don't see how they stay in business.
Ate supper at a so-so place. The food was tasty, but the service miserable.
Signed up for a tour of Tracy Arm Monday.
Walked around a little. Saw an abandoned, dilapidated gold mine way up on a hill. Tried to explore it, but couldn't find a road to it.
Returned to the hostel. The living room was hot, stuffy, brightly lighted, and full of people reading. Fortunately, at the last minute, the manager said a bed had become available and I could have it! I rushed gratefully upstairs to the women's dorm, which was dark, quiet, and well-ventilated, but poor Roy had to sleep on the living-room floor.

Friday, August 21, 1992 - Skagway, AK

Walked up to Lower Dewey Lake and Icy Lake. Tried to get to Reid Falls, but the trail sort of disappeared and we were running out of time, so we went back to town and ate lunch. Then we headed for the train station.
The ride was great. Went way up to the summit at nearly 3000 feet. Looked down on the raging Skagway River. Saw spectacular waterfalls. Saw part of the old gold rush trail. (The railroad was built right after the gold rush ended.)
When we got back to Skagway, we went to the ferry terminal and bought our tickets for tomorrow morning. Then we strolled out to Yakutania Point and back.
After supper, we walked a mile and a half to the Gold Rush Cemetery. It was dark when we got there, but we were able to find the graves of Soapy Smith and Frank Reid, who shot each other simul-
taneously, July 8, 1898. There were a lot of graves of babies and children who died in the meningitis epidemic of 1898.
A trail in back of the cemetery led to Reid Falls, but it was too dark to go up there, so twice in one day, we missed seeing Reid Falls.

Thursday, August 20, 1992 - Skagway, AK

Arrived in Skagway around noon. We had planned on staying at the AYH hostel, but thought we couldn't check in until 5:30, so we were going to put our bags in a locker at the ferry terminal and wander around until then. To our amazement, the woman from the hostel met us at the dock and drove us to the hostel! Never had that happen before. Turned out we can go in and out as much as we like during the day. Most hostels are locked from nine to five or whatever.
After signing up at the hostel for two nights, we walked over to the railroad station and bought tickets to ride the narrow-gauge railroad tomorrow. It follows the old Chilkoot Trail the gold-seekers so laboriously climbed in '97-'98.
Ate lunch and walked around. Skagway is a National Historical Monument. It was a major starting point for the Yukon Gold Rush of 1897. The sidewalks on the main street, Broadway, are made of wood, and many of the buildings are pretty much as they were nearly a century ago. We joined a Ranger walk that had already started. Will try to get in at the beginning tomorrow morning.
Ate a good supper at the hostel for only $5. Then we went to the perennial "Gold Rush" show. Gambled with play money for half an hour; then watched the melodrama. It was great. The performers are real professionals. Very enthusiastic.

Wednesday, August 19, 1992 - Skagway, AK

Roy on the Ferry to Skagway
What a neat ride! The ferry glides along so smoothly, we can scarcely tell we're on the water. But it sure creates a strong wind. And a cold wind!
This morning, a small pod of humpback whales was snoozing near our port bow. The ferry slowed down so we could get a good view of them. They were floating on top of the water, spouting through their blowholes, so we had a great view. They didn't wake up until they felt the vibration of our props. By then, we were within 100 yards of them. They dove and surfaced several times. It was neat watching them throw their flukes up in the air.
In the afternoon, there was a three-hour layover in Sitka, so passengers were permitted to go ashore. The ferry terminal is nine miles from town, so there were a bunch of tour buses and shuttle buses lined up to take us to town. We had been told the tour buses were $8 and the shuttle buses $5, so we were going to take a shuttle bus, but it turned out a new tour bus had just started competing with the old. The guy running it is a real go-getter. He charges $5 for the tour, which includes everything the $8 tour does, and he was making a strong pitch for passengers. We were lucky to get seats; the bus was nearly full. He was quite a character. He kept up a hilarious commentary as he drove.
Sitka turned out to be a really interesting place. Originally, it was inhabited by Tlingit Indians, famous for their craftsmanship, especially their weaving and their totem poles. In the 17 and 18 hundreds, Sitka was settled by Russians seeking otter pelts, which were worth an amazing $1700 apiece! Sitka was also the site of the ceremony turning Alaska over to the U.S. after the famous purchase.
We visited an old Russian church, a lovely park with totem poles, a museum, a beautiful forest of Sitka pine, and a stream full of salmon, another museum, etc. The guide even treated us to free apple cider. It was a terrific afternoon, and we only wished we could have spent more time there.

Tuesday, August 18, 1992 - Skagway, AK

Everything is going perfectly! We have a good place to leave the Jofian, the sun is shining, and the ferry to Skagway doesn't leave until 6:45 tonight, so we have all day to get ready.
Walked two miles to the ferry terminal and bought our tickets. Only $90 all the way to Skagway!
When we got back to the boat, we ate lunch, packed our bags, got the boat ready to leave, and walked around a while. Saw the infamous Creek Street area with its wooden streets and houses from the Gold Rush days.
The couple from the sailboat in back of us came by and chatted with Roy. The man had just lost two fingers trying to tie his boat to a log boom, so he was feeling pretty depressed. Roy greatly improved his morale by telling him about his fingers and being able to earn a good living in spite of their loss.
Got to the ferry plenty early. Glad we did. There's a "solarium" on the stern of the top deck that's protected on three sides plus the roof, but the back is open. There are reclining chairs that can be tilted all the way back to make cots. You spread your sleeping bag on one and sleep all warm and cozy but with plenty of fresh air. This is a popular place to sleep, so by getting there early, we were able to get two recliners in a good location.
After supper in the cafeteria, we attended a talk by the Ranger Naturalist on Wrangell and Petersburg. Then Roy watched a movie on whales, but I went to bed, which I later regretted, as it was a good movie.
Docked at Wrangell around midnight, and we got up to watch the unloading and loading. They have long, very expensive metal gangplanks.
Slept through most of the Wrangell Narrows. At one point, it's only 300 feet wide and 22 feet deep! The ferry can barely make it.