We dood it! We're in Alaska! With the Jofian! And boy, were we lucky! Arrived in Ketchikan about 4:30 and got the next-to-last dock space!
The moorage fees are incredibly cheap. We got an entire month for only $91.35! That's a third what we paid in Richmond. It was cheaper to pay for a month than for two weeks by the day. And now we don't have to worry if we're a day or two late.
Ketchikan is a lot larger and busier than I remembered it from my visit fifteen or so years ago. There are a lot more roads. And the sun is actually shining! It rained all the time I was here before.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Sunday, August 16, 1992 - Dundas Island, BC
Another totally calm day. We've sure been lucky with the weather. It's cool and cloudy today, but no rain.
Anchored in peaceful, lovely, nearly deserted Brundidge Inlet of Dundas Island around 4:30. This is the northernmost anchorage of western Canada. We can see the mountains of Alaska in the distance.
Paddled around for two or three hours without seeing any sign of human habitation. The trees are very dense and grow nearly to the edge of the water. No roads, no trails, no houses, no signs--just uncorrupted nature in all her profligate splendor. The air is sweet and fresh and redolent of evergreen trees. The tide goes in and out very rapidly, and the difference between high tide and low tide is remarkable. We anchored in 31 feet of water, and by the time we ate supper, we were in 13 feet! Now that's a tide!
Roy put out the crab trap, but when he pulled it up, all it had in it (or rather, on it) was an enormous starfish. I'd never seen such a huge starfish; it must have been two feet in diameter.
Tomorrow, Alaska!
Anchored in peaceful, lovely, nearly deserted Brundidge Inlet of Dundas Island around 4:30. This is the northernmost anchorage of western Canada. We can see the mountains of Alaska in the distance.
Paddled around for two or three hours without seeing any sign of human habitation. The trees are very dense and grow nearly to the edge of the water. No roads, no trails, no houses, no signs--just uncorrupted nature in all her profligate splendor. The air is sweet and fresh and redolent of evergreen trees. The tide goes in and out very rapidly, and the difference between high tide and low tide is remarkable. We anchored in 31 feet of water, and by the time we ate supper, we were in 13 feet! Now that's a tide!
Roy put out the crab trap, but when he pulled it up, all it had in it (or rather, on it) was an enormous starfish. I'd never seen such a huge starfish; it must have been two feet in diameter.
Tomorrow, Alaska!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Saturday, August 15, 1992 - Prince Rupert, BC
Well, we're back in civilization. Arrived in Prince Rupert at two o'clock on a very calm day. Back to radio, television, super markets, drugstores, dime stores, walk lights, etc. We had hoped to get free moorage at the Prince Rupert Yacht Club, but they wanted $25, so we went to the public marina for $15.66.
It's remarkably deep here (nearly 200 feet at the dock), and there's a strong current. When Roy was bringing the boat up to the dock, the current caught her and nearly carried her into another boat, so he had to run her into the dock to avoid a collision. I jumped onto the dock with the bow line and pulled her forward, so we got tied up with no more serious damage than scratched paint.
Walked over to the public library to see if we could find some information about Swanson Bay, but there was nothing. We'll check at UBC (University of British Columbia) when we get back to Vancouver.
Very hungry by then, so we went to the main part of town and ate chow mein for lunch. Strolled around for a while. Found an outdoor vegetable stand that had corn twelve ears for $1! Cheapest I've seen corn in years. Bought four ears for 33 cents. We'd have liked to have bought more, but we'll be crossing the border in a day or two. They won't let you take fresh vegetables and fruit into the U.S.
Went to Safeway and bought a few groceries. Stopped at the Visitor Information Center to see if they knew anything about Swanson Bay. They didn't, but the young girl at the counter was very nice. She said she'd try to find out something and write to us.
It was starting to sprinkle, so we returned to the boat. Roy changed the oil, and I sorted the Alaska charts and fixed supper.
According to our travel guides, Prince Rupert is a "beautiful" town, but it just looks like an ordinary, run-of-the-mill town to us.
Roy's cold is finally starting to get better. He still coughs occasionally, but nothing compared with a couple of weeks ago.
It's remarkably deep here (nearly 200 feet at the dock), and there's a strong current. When Roy was bringing the boat up to the dock, the current caught her and nearly carried her into another boat, so he had to run her into the dock to avoid a collision. I jumped onto the dock with the bow line and pulled her forward, so we got tied up with no more serious damage than scratched paint.
Walked over to the public library to see if we could find some information about Swanson Bay, but there was nothing. We'll check at UBC (University of British Columbia) when we get back to Vancouver.
Very hungry by then, so we went to the main part of town and ate chow mein for lunch. Strolled around for a while. Found an outdoor vegetable stand that had corn twelve ears for $1! Cheapest I've seen corn in years. Bought four ears for 33 cents. We'd have liked to have bought more, but we'll be crossing the border in a day or two. They won't let you take fresh vegetables and fruit into the U.S.
Went to Safeway and bought a few groceries. Stopped at the Visitor Information Center to see if they knew anything about Swanson Bay. They didn't, but the young girl at the counter was very nice. She said she'd try to find out something and write to us.
It was starting to sprinkle, so we returned to the boat. Roy changed the oil, and I sorted the Alaska charts and fixed supper.
According to our travel guides, Prince Rupert is a "beautiful" town, but it just looks like an ordinary, run-of-the-mill town to us.
Roy's cold is finally starting to get better. He still coughs occasionally, but nothing compared with a couple of weeks ago.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Friday, August 14, 1992 - BC
It's a good thing we got up early; the anchor had dragged and the boat was nearly against the pilings. Worse, she was approaching submerged rocks. But a miss is as good as a mile, and we soon had her straightened out and under way.
Made really good time today. Covered nearly 70 miles in a little over twelve hours.
We still feel as if we're on a beautiful lake, high in the mountains. It's impossible to believe we're actually at sea level.
We're going down the Grenville Channel. The mountains here are very high and steep on both sides of the channel. Some are solid rock. Many are snow-capped. Saw a waterfall that tumbled half a mile down the side of a mountain.
A freighter from Greece or some such place passed us heading south. We were surprised to see a big freighter on this channel. On the chart, the channel is just a skinny little strip, but it's actually nearly a mile wide and hundreds of feet deep.
Anchored for the night in a tiny cove behind a small island. Peace, quiet, privacy, and beauty.
Made really good time today. Covered nearly 70 miles in a little over twelve hours.
We still feel as if we're on a beautiful lake, high in the mountains. It's impossible to believe we're actually at sea level.
We're going down the Grenville Channel. The mountains here are very high and steep on both sides of the channel. Some are solid rock. Many are snow-capped. Saw a waterfall that tumbled half a mile down the side of a mountain.
A freighter from Greece or some such place passed us heading south. We were surprised to see a big freighter on this channel. On the chart, the channel is just a skinny little strip, but it's actually nearly a mile wide and hundreds of feet deep.
Anchored for the night in a tiny cove behind a small island. Peace, quiet, privacy, and beauty.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Thursday, August 13, 1992 - Butedale, BC
Our canine friends came down to see us off, but they stayed at the top of the gangplank. The Jofian pulled away from the dock, and I began bringing in the fenders. When I pulled the string of the flat fender, it came untied and pulled through the holes. The fender floated in the water, but I couldn't reach it, so I got the boathook down, but by then the boat was too far from the fender, so I told Roy, and he circled back to the dock, but the fender had floated away from the dock and was behind some logs, so I got in my Royak, paddled after the fender, and rescued it. After fender, Royak, and I were back on the boat, I pulled up the ladder and fastened the clasp that connects the lifeline to the stanchion with my bare hands--first time I've ever been able to do that. I must be getting stronger.
This is the ideal way to travel, gliding slowly along on placid waters, gazing at lovely, tree-covered mountains on both sides. We see so much more than cruise ship passengers do, and we can go wherever we want to, and stop whenever we want to. We're having the time of our lives!
Speaking of cruise ships, we've seen a surprising number in the past couple of days.
We've discovered that our navigation instruments (GPS, Loran, and Satnav) lose their minds every 300 miles and have to be told where they are.
Without good charts, a person would get hopelessly lost up here; there are so many inlets and channels and passages, twisting in every direction, and endless miles of uninhabited, roadless, wooded islands. It's a real maze. A person could spend a lifetime exploring and still not see it all.
We had planned on going to Lowe Inlet today, but we got side-tracked at Swanson Bay. The chart said "abandoned" and that there were a bronze benchmark and a 125-foot chimney there. That aroused our curiosity, so we went into the small bay. Sure enough, we could see a red brick smokestack through the trees. We could also see the pilings of a ruined wharf and a glimpse of a concrete building, so we dropped anchor and hopped in our Royaks to go exploring.
First, we paddled along the shore and found the mouth of a stream where there were rapids. We heard a loud roaring and figured there was a waterfall farther upstream, but we couldn't see it. Through the trees, we caught a glimpse of a second concrete building, even taller than the first. It looked about five or six storeys high. We went back to the ruined wharf, pulled our Royaks up on the beach, and tied them to pilings. Then we began making our way through the woods. The
undergrowth was so thick, I didn't think it was possible for any human being to get through it without a machete, but Roy kept going and I followed. We reached the first building. Just the walls were standing, but it still contained a huge evaporator. We plowed through some more jungle and found a trail! It led to the brick smokestack. There were big chunks of cement walls nearby and a lot of bricks. The other end of the trail led to another little beach. We could have brought our Royaks in there and not had to claw our way through the jungle.
The tide was coming in fast. By the time we got back to our Royaks, they were floating in the water, and even the piling I had tied mine to was several feet from the shore.
We wanted to see the second building, which was on the far side of the smokestack, so we paddled to the beach near the trail and carried our Royaks up above the high-water mark. The trail ended at the smokestack, so we had to do some more clawing through the jungle, but it was worth it. The second building contained two enormous rotating furnaces, lined with firebrick. They had apparently once been vertical but had toppled.
This entire project had required a huge investment of capital and effort. Clearing the forest, bringing in bargeloads of cement and machinery and other supplies and equipment, housing the workers--it had been a tremendous undertaking. We figured they must have been processing some kind of ore, but we couldn't figure out what. When we get to Prince Rupert, we'll go to the library and try to learn the history of Swanson Bay.
We pushed on up the hill and found the waterfall. And what a waterfall! A tremendous volume of water was dropping 100 feet or more. The roar was stentorian. We felt privileged; few people have seen it.
When we got back to our Royaks, we paddled along the shore looking for the benchmark, but couldn't find it.
By the time we got underway again, it was four o'clock, so we decided to spend the night at Butedale, another ghost town. It was supposed to have a spectacular waterfall, but it was nothing compared with the one at Swanson Bay.
There had been a big fish cannery at Butedale, but it had been abandoned years ago. From a distance, the buildings still looked sturdy, but up close, you can easily see they're falling apart.
The bay is surprisingly deep. We had a hard time finding a place to anchor. We finally anchored in 80 feet of water and tied the 200 foot floating line to one of the pilings.
We paddled ashore to explore, but it was more difficult than it looked to climb from the rocky beach to the buildings. I'd have given up, but Roy kept urging me on, and eventually we reached a couple of buildings. Huge, expensive machinery was still in place, the parts bins were full of parts, expensive electrical equipment was lying around--another big investment gone to waste.
It was too late in the day to do much exploring, so we scurried back to the boat before dark.
This is the ideal way to travel, gliding slowly along on placid waters, gazing at lovely, tree-covered mountains on both sides. We see so much more than cruise ship passengers do, and we can go wherever we want to, and stop whenever we want to. We're having the time of our lives!
Speaking of cruise ships, we've seen a surprising number in the past couple of days.
We've discovered that our navigation instruments (GPS, Loran, and Satnav) lose their minds every 300 miles and have to be told where they are.
Without good charts, a person would get hopelessly lost up here; there are so many inlets and channels and passages, twisting in every direction, and endless miles of uninhabited, roadless, wooded islands. It's a real maze. A person could spend a lifetime exploring and still not see it all.
We had planned on going to Lowe Inlet today, but we got side-tracked at Swanson Bay. The chart said "abandoned" and that there were a bronze benchmark and a 125-foot chimney there. That aroused our curiosity, so we went into the small bay. Sure enough, we could see a red brick smokestack through the trees. We could also see the pilings of a ruined wharf and a glimpse of a concrete building, so we dropped anchor and hopped in our Royaks to go exploring.
First, we paddled along the shore and found the mouth of a stream where there were rapids. We heard a loud roaring and figured there was a waterfall farther upstream, but we couldn't see it. Through the trees, we caught a glimpse of a second concrete building, even taller than the first. It looked about five or six storeys high. We went back to the ruined wharf, pulled our Royaks up on the beach, and tied them to pilings. Then we began making our way through the woods. The
undergrowth was so thick, I didn't think it was possible for any human being to get through it without a machete, but Roy kept going and I followed. We reached the first building. Just the walls were standing, but it still contained a huge evaporator. We plowed through some more jungle and found a trail! It led to the brick smokestack. There were big chunks of cement walls nearby and a lot of bricks. The other end of the trail led to another little beach. We could have brought our Royaks in there and not had to claw our way through the jungle.
The tide was coming in fast. By the time we got back to our Royaks, they were floating in the water, and even the piling I had tied mine to was several feet from the shore.
We wanted to see the second building, which was on the far side of the smokestack, so we paddled to the beach near the trail and carried our Royaks up above the high-water mark. The trail ended at the smokestack, so we had to do some more clawing through the jungle, but it was worth it. The second building contained two enormous rotating furnaces, lined with firebrick. They had apparently once been vertical but had toppled.
This entire project had required a huge investment of capital and effort. Clearing the forest, bringing in bargeloads of cement and machinery and other supplies and equipment, housing the workers--it had been a tremendous undertaking. We figured they must have been processing some kind of ore, but we couldn't figure out what. When we get to Prince Rupert, we'll go to the library and try to learn the history of Swanson Bay.
We pushed on up the hill and found the waterfall. And what a waterfall! A tremendous volume of water was dropping 100 feet or more. The roar was stentorian. We felt privileged; few people have seen it.
When we got back to our Royaks, we paddled along the shore looking for the benchmark, but couldn't find it.
By the time we got underway again, it was four o'clock, so we decided to spend the night at Butedale, another ghost town. It was supposed to have a spectacular waterfall, but it was nothing compared with the one at Swanson Bay.
There had been a big fish cannery at Butedale, but it had been abandoned years ago. From a distance, the buildings still looked sturdy, but up close, you can easily see they're falling apart.
The bay is surprisingly deep. We had a hard time finding a place to anchor. We finally anchored in 80 feet of water and tied the 200 foot floating line to one of the pilings.
We paddled ashore to explore, but it was more difficult than it looked to climb from the rocky beach to the buildings. I'd have given up, but Roy kept urging me on, and eventually we reached a couple of buildings. Huge, expensive machinery was still in place, the parts bins were full of parts, expensive electrical equipment was lying around--another big investment gone to waste.
It was too late in the day to do much exploring, so we scurried back to the boat before dark.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Wednesday, August 12, 1992 - Klemtu, BC
Woke up in paradise. So still, peaceful, beautiful. The only sounds were the ones we made ourselves.
Left at the crack of dawn and ate breakfast en route. We had planned on going to Bella Bella today, but we made such good time that it wasn't even two o'clock when we got there, so we kept going. Had one close call early in the morning when we nearly hit an uncharted, submerged rock, but other than that, it was a very pleasant day. Even had a good sailing wind when we were in Milbanke Sound, which opens to the Pacific. Turned off the engine and zoomed along at 6 1/2 knots for about two hours.
The Indian village of Klemtu lies behind five-mile-long Cone Island. Klemtu Passage is indescribably beautiful, with steep wooded hills rising on both sides. We arrived at the village a little after eight, but it was still daylight. We had planned on tying to the Government dock, but there was no room, so we went to a dilapidated dock where there was a hand-painted sign saying, "Notice - Village Float - Use at your own risk - Band Council." The float was broken, tilted at crazy angles, and some boards were missing, but what was left was sturdy and serviceable, so we tied up there. This time, I threw the grappling anchor over the dock on the first try.
Klemtu is somewhat reminiscent of the villages in Mexico. The dirt roads wander in every direction but straight. However, there are street lights and fire hydrants, and most of the houses are well-built. The most interesting feature is a wooden road/sidewalk that runs along the water for about half a mile, connecting the fishing wharves with the main part of the village. While we were walking along it, two big, friendly dogs came out of their yards and accompanied us.
We were looking for a restaurant but weren't surprised when we didn't find one. Went into the tiny, crowded store and bought a few groceries. The people here are pleasant, and the children are full of fun and laughter. One little boy got a big kick out of pretending to be hurt when I closed the refrigerator door. He let out a yelp and grabbed his elbow, but when I expressed concern, he began laughing hilariously. Everyone in the store joined in.
We had just gotten back to our ramshackle dock when a very loud siren sounded. Apparently, it was the ten o'clock curfew. Moments later, the wake from a passing boat hit the floats in a series of waves that sent the floats leaping up and down, back and forth, every which way. Roy was on one float, and I was on another, our legs spread apart trying to keep our balance, wondering if the crazy old floats would fall apart. Water sloshed over the float I was on, soaking my shoes and pants legs. Somehow, we managed to remain upright, the floats held together, and in due course, calm returned.
Left at the crack of dawn and ate breakfast en route. We had planned on going to Bella Bella today, but we made such good time that it wasn't even two o'clock when we got there, so we kept going. Had one close call early in the morning when we nearly hit an uncharted, submerged rock, but other than that, it was a very pleasant day. Even had a good sailing wind when we were in Milbanke Sound, which opens to the Pacific. Turned off the engine and zoomed along at 6 1/2 knots for about two hours.
The Indian village of Klemtu lies behind five-mile-long Cone Island. Klemtu Passage is indescribably beautiful, with steep wooded hills rising on both sides. We arrived at the village a little after eight, but it was still daylight. We had planned on tying to the Government dock, but there was no room, so we went to a dilapidated dock where there was a hand-painted sign saying, "Notice - Village Float - Use at your own risk - Band Council." The float was broken, tilted at crazy angles, and some boards were missing, but what was left was sturdy and serviceable, so we tied up there. This time, I threw the grappling anchor over the dock on the first try.
Klemtu is somewhat reminiscent of the villages in Mexico. The dirt roads wander in every direction but straight. However, there are street lights and fire hydrants, and most of the houses are well-built. The most interesting feature is a wooden road/sidewalk that runs along the water for about half a mile, connecting the fishing wharves with the main part of the village. While we were walking along it, two big, friendly dogs came out of their yards and accompanied us.
We were looking for a restaurant but weren't surprised when we didn't find one. Went into the tiny, crowded store and bought a few groceries. The people here are pleasant, and the children are full of fun and laughter. One little boy got a big kick out of pretending to be hurt when I closed the refrigerator door. He let out a yelp and grabbed his elbow, but when I expressed concern, he began laughing hilariously. Everyone in the store joined in.
We had just gotten back to our ramshackle dock when a very loud siren sounded. Apparently, it was the ten o'clock curfew. Moments later, the wake from a passing boat hit the floats in a series of waves that sent the floats leaping up and down, back and forth, every which way. Roy was on one float, and I was on another, our legs spread apart trying to keep our balance, wondering if the crazy old floats would fall apart. Water sloshed over the float I was on, soaking my shoes and pants legs. Somehow, we managed to remain upright, the floats held together, and in due course, calm returned.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Tuesday, August 11, 1992 - Pruth Bay, BC
An absolutely glorious day! Blue sky, warm sun, calm water--a perfect day for crossing the dreaded Queen Charlotte Sound, which is the longest stretch of unprotected water between Vancouver and Skagway.
We left Port Hardy at the first crack of dawn, while there was still enough water for us to get out. Glided along on glassy water, dodging fishing boats, nets, and logs. Crossing the sound was like crossing a lake--no waves and just a light breeze.
Roy raised all three sails and turned off the engine. Immediately, we became aware of a strange sound, like water rushing into the boat. We looked at each other in surprise and fear. But after a few seconds, we realized we had simply forgotten to turn off the defroster fans.
As soon as we got behind Calvert Island, we lost the wind and had to revert to using the engine.
We turned down Kwakshua Channel and anchored in Pruth Bay. Surely, this must be one of the loveliest places on the face of the earth! It's so still and peaceful. Dense woods grow right down to the high rocks that edge the water. The water is like a mirror, reflecting the trees around it and the boats on it. There is no trash in the water, and the air is clean and sweet.
We paddled to a little beach and walked along a trail through the woods. The weird face of a demon was carved into a living tree. It had a long, curving, pointed nose, tusklike teeth, and bulging eyes. We have no idea who carved it, when, or why, but the carver was certainly an artist with a vivid imagination as well as a skilled craftsman.
After about a mile, we emerged onto a lovely, curving beach. The sand was so fine, it was almost powdery. The cove was full of rocks; it would be a great place for scuba diving.
Met a couple from near Seattle. They have an 80-foot yacht that used to be a survey boat. When they were in Ketchikan a couple of weeks ago, they went aground on a submerged rock. The boat tilted fifty degrees! Spilled hundreds of gallons of fuel from their
4500-gallon tank all over the interior. Drowned the electrical panel. Gashed a hole in the hull. It took a week to repair the damage.
When we were paddling back to the boat, I heard a "whup, whup" and looked around. There was an eagle, flying very low! Had a small animal in his talons. He alighted on a rock, and I quietly paddled to within thirty feet of him before he flew away. Closest I've ever been to an eagle in the wilds.
We left Port Hardy at the first crack of dawn, while there was still enough water for us to get out. Glided along on glassy water, dodging fishing boats, nets, and logs. Crossing the sound was like crossing a lake--no waves and just a light breeze.
Roy raised all three sails and turned off the engine. Immediately, we became aware of a strange sound, like water rushing into the boat. We looked at each other in surprise and fear. But after a few seconds, we realized we had simply forgotten to turn off the defroster fans.
As soon as we got behind Calvert Island, we lost the wind and had to revert to using the engine.
We turned down Kwakshua Channel and anchored in Pruth Bay. Surely, this must be one of the loveliest places on the face of the earth! It's so still and peaceful. Dense woods grow right down to the high rocks that edge the water. The water is like a mirror, reflecting the trees around it and the boats on it. There is no trash in the water, and the air is clean and sweet.
We paddled to a little beach and walked along a trail through the woods. The weird face of a demon was carved into a living tree. It had a long, curving, pointed nose, tusklike teeth, and bulging eyes. We have no idea who carved it, when, or why, but the carver was certainly an artist with a vivid imagination as well as a skilled craftsman.
After about a mile, we emerged onto a lovely, curving beach. The sand was so fine, it was almost powdery. The cove was full of rocks; it would be a great place for scuba diving.
Met a couple from near Seattle. They have an 80-foot yacht that used to be a survey boat. When they were in Ketchikan a couple of weeks ago, they went aground on a submerged rock. The boat tilted fifty degrees! Spilled hundreds of gallons of fuel from their
4500-gallon tank all over the interior. Drowned the electrical panel. Gashed a hole in the hull. It took a week to repair the damage.
When we were paddling back to the boat, I heard a "whup, whup" and looked around. There was an eagle, flying very low! Had a small animal in his talons. He alighted on a rock, and I quietly paddled to within thirty feet of him before he flew away. Closest I've ever been to an eagle in the wilds.
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