The crew of Ohana Northward is again on home soil. The ship rests in her slip on Bainbridge Island. She has served us well again. We tested skills and developed new ones. We managed intense currents, winds and waves. We negotiated Seymour Narrows, plowed into the teeth of Johnstone Strait and learned when to duck and run. We shared the waves with Dall Porpoise, sailed beneath the cascades of Lacy Falls. We enjoyed the peaceful nature of remote anchorages and even golfed off of a float plane dock. Our challenges were not off the West Coast of Vancouver Island this trip, but the initial spirit of circumnavigation infused us with a certain sense of exploration that took us places we may not have otherwise seen. The trip around Vancouver Island awaits, as well the Inside Passage to Alaska and places not yet imagined.

Oh yes, and there was the matter of a monster Ling cod...(the leaded minnow lure is about 6 inches long!)

Sailing toward Admiralty Inlet through Juan de Fuca on a crystal blue day. We would enjoy a freshening north wind as we made our way south into Puget Sound. The main would be furled and the jib and staysail would billow and pull us closer to home. We would make home port by 1600 hours. On a good day, with big tides and friendly winds, we knew the San Juans were within comfortable reach.

We made this crossing of Juan de Fuca just three weeks ago heading north. Bedwell Harbour in a day, Deep Bay in two and Campbell River early afternoon on the third day. It seemed long ago. Months maybe. But the memories are detailed and vivid and you know they will last.

After making rapid progress on the strong ebb into Juan de Fuca from James Island, we shut off our Yanmar engine and hoisted the sails. The soft sounds of sailing in a light breeze on such open water were soothing to the soul. We kicked back in the cockpit, relaxed and enjoyed the lap of the water on the hull.

Sunrise at James Island. The ebb current has begun its migration. The strong current would soon carry us out into the Strait of Juan de Fuca and southward toward Puget Sound and home

The passing ferry bound for Orcas Island made for a memorable view and a rolling wake which gently rocked us to sleep at our James Island mooring buoy. We were fortunate to complete our plan for the day and discovered a vacant buoy at James. This position would allow for a comfortable cast off at 0730 the next morning as we entered the pulsing ebb of Rosario Strait.

Austin eyes the turbulent waters ahead as we begin to push against an unsuspected ebb that had wrapped around Pender Island from the Strait of Georgia. Our more tide friendly course would have been running down the Strait of Georgia from Silva Bay past Waldron Island, but then we would not have enjoyed the calm waters inside the Gulf Islands. We motor-muscled through the current with additional jib catching 20 knots following wind and still slogged along at 4 knots. We would still make Roche Harbour and Customs checkin only slightly after the 0800 opening and be on our way through Mosquito Pass to capture the remnants of the ebb into Juan de Fuca.

We pushed through a slight eddy approaching Active Pass but then quickly received a 2 knot boost as the strong ebb surged southward

Sunset on the west side of Montague. We anchored outside of the harbour off the sand and shell shoreline. With favorable winds, we could not pass up the chance to relax in the cockpit and enjoy the view.

Oh yes, our plans for Silva Bay were scuttled as we completed our crossing of the Strait of Georgia in near 20 knots and frisky four footers. Seeing the turn at Dodd Narrows in our favor from timing, direction and strength, we opted to run for the cover of the Gulf Islands.

The tides would again be agreeable in the dark hours of the coming morning so we illuminated our anchor light early and set the wrist watch alarm for 3:45am...just for fun.

The alarm rousted me from a deep sleep and I made my way to the galley to light the stove under the preset coffee pot. Austin was quickly on his feet and into his shoes readying the charts and the cockpit. I mentioned that I would have some coffee first and make sure my brain and most body parts were operational before going on deck, so he slowed his activities. Soon, Austin was heaving on the anchor as the morning breezed freshened. Running lights on, we rounded our slumbering neighbors who shared the anchorage and slipped through the darkness of Montague's channel. The engine purring and the jib billowed out in 12 knots we cruised toward Active Pass.

The Garmin 3210 chartplotter started the voyage as a great backup system to our paper charts. Now with much improved understanding and repeated confirmation, electronics is vying with paper as our primary navigation guide. The two systems together have made many tight passages far less concerning. Still the helmsman and first mate must remember to watch the water. It is easy to see how plugging in can lead to dropping out of touch with what is happening in the immediate surroundings. There is much to learn from reading the water, the waves, the ripples, the smooth upwellings and of course the contours of the land, steep cliffs, gentle hills and long spits and the wind, if gusting, or steady and how it plays with the water and with your ship.

Today the wind is calming. We will make the passage across the Strait of Georgia from Secret Cove past Smugglers Cove through Welcome Passage and out into the Strait to Silva Bay. A flood tide is slightly against the diminishing winds. THe seas will be a bit choppy but wave and wind trends at Halibut Bank (roughly midway in the Strait) have been markedly dropping through the morning. One half meter at 0800 and 5 to 13 knots, down from 1 meter with 4 sec periods and 20 to 25 knots last night.

Tomorrow we will be back in the States through Customs and hopefully catch a mooring buoy at James Island, poised to catch the next morning strong ebb south into Juan de Fuca and the equally strong afternoon flood through Admiralty Inlet and Puget Sound.

Looking west toward the southern tip of Texada Island, we are closing in on our day's destination at Secret Cove. we cast off from Cortez at 0730 this morning and ran for the protection of the east shore of Texada. Forecasted high winds failed to build to any significance before our arrival at 1730 hours. It is 2030 hours and we now hear the howling in the halyards and are thoroughly satisfied with our refuge in Secret Cove. Tomorrow we will cross the Strait and make Silva Bay on the outside of Gabriola Island at the passage by the same name, weather permitting.

Austin of the North

Entering the Octopus Islands through the northern channel. Less than one hundred feet wide and about twenty feet deep, the channel is the most preferred approach to the inner bays. We would tour Waiatt Bay and exit through the same channel to finally drop anchor in Bodega Anchorage on the north side of the Octopus group.

A quick shampoo off the back deck. THe wild man tames the wild thing, which I'm sure would have attacked us both soon.

We are poised for a run south down the Strait of Georgia. Ohana rests in Gorge Harbour this evening. The night is calm. The day saw a well-timed navigation from the Octopus Islands past Surge Narrows and through Beazley Passage. We slogged against a fifteen knot wind south until turning east, putting the breeze abeam and in our sails en route to Cortez Island through the skinny channel at the tip of Shark Spit. Gorge Harbour Marina has undergone an impressive makeover. Upgrades are everywhere. New concrete docks with power boxes and water spigots, dockhouse and office, general store supplies, swimming pool and hot tub, brick and stonework paths, fencing and public firepit and BBQ - a multi-star resort including upgraded cabins. The restaurant is as popular as ever and many boaters on the hook dinghy over for fine dining. We opted for pizza baked in our own galley.

The Octopus Islands were well worth the stop. We dropped the hook in Bodega Anchorage and had the place to ourselves with a few vocal harbour seals on the nearby islets. The roar from Okisollo Rapids was clearly audible from nearly two miles away. We enjoyed the open view through Hole in the Wall to the northeast. We lingered in the Octopus Islands about 24 hours which afforded time to organize, fish, crab and oh yes, perform surgery on the windlass. The windlass is a very helpful piece of equipment that raises and lowers the anchor and chain with appreciable mechanical efficiency. Even more appreciated after one raises and lowers the hook by hand a couple of times. The windlass motor is located below the foredeck inside the anchor locker. In order to examine the motor one must squeeze forward into a space the size of a foot locker, twist, contort use reading glasses a mirror, flashlight and an unimmaginable degree of patience. After some time snuggled in with seaweed, motor grease and delicate spring-loaded magnets, I emerged holding two internal fastening bolts that had somehow been sheared off. Concluding that further repair would be required at the homeport I accepted that anchoring "old school" would be the mode for the remainder of our journey. The haul-up at Octopus was a workout. Austin and I tag-teamed the operation and soon Austin was hauling away like an old salt. "I haven't had a good arm workout in awhile", he happily grinned. I smiled back and felt a twinge in my neck.

DOCK GOLF

Golf. What is it about golf that is so addictive? It is a little complicated. There is the outdoor comeradery with friends, the exercise and of course the mind messing, exasperating physical challenge. Many muscles, large and small, nerves that can get twitchy all must work in synchrony to deliver a precise blow to a dimpled orb a little bigger than a walnut that rests peacefully at your feet. The strike is made with a metal headed club, hand shaped and of similar size. The ball is typically sent over one-hundred yards toward a target with expected accuracy of five to ten yards left, right, long and short. This challenge has evoked the most fascinating behavior from otherwise adult individuals. If you like this challenge you will love what Chris at Sullivan Bay has designed for his boating guests – an irresistible temptation. One ball. One floating green. One shot. Tee up at the end of the float plane dock. It’s one hundred and twenty yards or fifty yards depending on the tide. The “green” is an old satellite dish about 12 feet in diameter and two-thirds filled with water with a flagpole affixed to the center. Land your given ball in the dish and receive your night’s moorage free.

At 4:55pm Austin and I emerge from Ohana and clamor onto the dock. Our neighbor Jim, aboard his large Nordic Tug, Noeta, slides open his salon starboard side window. “You guys heading for tee-time?” “You bet”, we reply pulling our caps down to deflect the wind blown rain. We hear commotion aboard Noeta and Jim is soon out on the dock sporting rain parka and an ambitious smile. We make the walk down the mooring dock past the restaurant, office, general store and round up past the fuel dock and workshop toward the number one (and only) tee. We trudged through the rain like hearty souls on a gray and blustery Scottish day. With purpose, with determination to face the elements and do battle on the field of honor. Chris met us by the recycling center where burnables were smoldering in an ample sized drum. He now led the procession out to the tee. As starter and course marshal, he reviewed the rules. “One shot, must stay in the dish, use any club in the bag”, he examined our faces for understanding. He lifted a water logged golf bag lying by the green plastic turf mat saying, “It might be a seven iron today”. He slid the slightly rusted club from the soaked bag. “Here. I’ll show you.” He tamped down the rippled surface of the mat and placed a ball away from the persistent up-folds. “I’m getting a new mat next week”, he waggled the club over the ball. With a practiced blow, he sent the orb flying from the dock. “Kaploonk”. Ten yards left but spot on the distance. “Not bad”, ran a chorus from our ranks. “Yep, that’s a seven iron”, Chris asserted. After some kibitzing, Jim stepped forward and grasped the seven iron. “I have a one handicap”, he announced. “My swing”. After a brief moment of concentration, he sent the ball on a line drive that fell short even after the skip. I fingered the nine iron in the bag and eyed the pitching wedge. Smooth nine or strong wedge. Smooth is better. “No pressure”, Jim chided, “One shot worth a lot”, he poked. “I’m just glad it’s not a putt”, I placed the ball on the mat. Alignment, check. Grip, check. Relax, hmmm. Not really. Adrenaline was pumping. All quiet, the rain drops drifted to the background, the flag flipped alluringly over the floating dish. The iron rested behind the ball. I could see the strike. Exhale and swing. In the next conscious moment I saw the ball skyward in a great arc on a perfect line for the pin. I love this game. Thanks Chris. I’ll buy a bucket next time we sail in to Sullivan.

LAst evening, we ate dinner off the boat. A break from galley fixins. Austin was all smiles. While Eliot and Laura brought our fresh salads and amazing strawberry vinagrette they inquired, "wait a minute, thought you guys were going around the island (Vancouver)". "Well, it was a definite consideration, but we had options to explore the Broughtons or venture as far north as time allowed...and then mom (Betty) provided some guidance", I grinned. "As she should", the mother in Laura affirmed. Betty's new job had kept her south-bound but she was keeping an ever watchful eye on our expedition via the internet and provided specific instructions in no uncertain terms, that circumnavigating VC island was a no-go. "So we opted to explore the Broughtons and found plenty of adventure there. Got as far up as MacKenzie Sound. A great trip", we both chimed.

And so it has been. But we have more to go. Today, we will negotiate a series of narrow passages that are rapids when current pulses through. Rapids with such names as Devil's Hole, Hole in the Wall...anyway lots of "holes", which is enough to concern any boater who prefers to keep things holeless. Austin has scoured the literature and selected a route, involving early arrivals and holding times for slack in protected areas and of course alternate routes depending on real conditions which can vary somewhat depending on weather conditions. Other factors like knowing that the current jumps 50% in the first hour and reaches 90% by the end of the second hour are included in plan. Videos of rapids are available on line and are quite eye-openning in case one has not fully appreciated the power of these waters. Yaculta, Dent and Okisollo are attention getters. Today we will head toward Dent, linger in Frederick Arm and then proceed down Nodales Channel duck into Johnstone and scoot into Okisollo at slack and make the Octopus Islands for evening anchorage. THat's the primary plan with several options built in as conditions on Johnstone and in the channels dictates. Challenges abound but there is a bit more control here on the inside than on the west coast of VC . We will be careful mom.

Austin geared up for another day at the helm

Waning evening light as we course down the narrows of Chatham Channel. We would drop the hook by the Mist Islets poised for our morning run down Johnstone Strait. Timing is everything when running the currents, tides and winds of the Strait, so pre-positioning for a strategic entry into the big waters of Johnstone was critical. Nevertheless we would still experience a surprise by mid morning that would require execution of our backup plan.

It turns out that the rains and snow melt this time of year can influence the currents in Johnstone and other major channels. Essentially turning normal ebbs into big ebbs and in fact creating a continuous ebbing condition. We would find ourselves nearly at a standstill approaching the notorious rips of Race Passage along the western shore of Vancouver in Johnstone Strait...at a time when all should have been slack. Fighting a rapidly losing battle, rain descending from the dark gray clouds hanging on the towering mountains above, we turned round in the current and made for the cut up Sunderland Channel. We went from 1.9 knots to 9.1 knots within 10 seconds and scooted with our stern between our legs. The day would finish well with a fine run through Greene Pointe Rapids and a safe harbor at Blind Channel.

Ohana cruises by the base of Lacy Falls. The towering bluffs above reach heights of 4500 feet and more.

Jib and staysail deployed on a fine reach across the mouth Kingcome Inlet

Morning view up Kenneth Passage toward MacKenzie Sound

Fishing near Roaring Hole. The mist around the near point is produced by the massive flow of ebbing water over a five foot drop through a 75 foot channel leading from an enormous tidal lagoon. THe fish this morning were small in comparison to our denison of the deep yesterday. WHile dropping leaded minnows along a secret cliff (a tip from an obliging local guide) we hooked a common rockfish of nearly two pounds. On this occasion however the fish became quite stubborn and refused to surface. The weight was almost immovable with the 20 lb test and spinning gear. Slowly however the huge weight ascended begrudgingly. THe rod handle was firmly lodged under one armpit while I dipped low and heaved and reeled and heaved and reeled. Cautiously we searched the dark water beneath the dinghy for a sign of what trouble was about to surface. Austin spied it first. "Oh, My God!", he exclaimed in full verse. I looked and saw the head of a ling cod that was difficult to comprehend. This was not a fish but a prehistoric creature of epic proportions. Its head was the size of a basketball, teeth were like fangs. In its mouth was a two pound rockfish attached to a five inch long lead minnow. A mere snack. The ling's body hung down in the water easily four feet and likely five. After the initial shock, we carved out a plan. First, DO NOT bring this fish into the rubber dinghy. We settled on releasing the ling after photographing with the pocket phone that was only good as a camera anyway back in this country. Photo snapped, I reached for the gaff and snagged the rockfish from the beasts jaws. The rockfish fell into the water and swam a few yards off still attached to the lure. Relieved, we set about restoring order to the dinghy when the rod tip dove into the water with drag screaming. Austin hung on. THe ling had attacked again. We battled another several minutes and returned the ling to the surface with the fish deeper in its its toothy jaws. Again the gaff and this time the rockfish was boated and the ling quickly disappeared into the depths. We were in awe of what had just occurred and spent the rest of the evening reliving the event from every angle.

Morning view from Ohana at anchor in Turnbull Cove. The rains cleared from the evening before leaving low hanging clouds and dead calm. We would have a quick breakfast and board the dinghy to explore Roaring Hole and MacKensie Sound.

We have returned to Blind Channel. We are southbound. Still spending much time off the grid and disconnected from civilization. It has been wild in some very very wild areas. Ling cod too large for the dinghy (seriously, a 45 pounder with a toothy bucket for a mouth), Eagles swooping down to grab fish seemingly within arms reach, and dolphins churning the water all around us while we fished from our small rubber boat! More later as connection allows. We are getting dinner underway now.

We are getting ready again to cast off. We may be a few nights on the hook and off the grid. Burley Bay, Belleisile, and then southward toward home.

Clearing weather across the confluence of Sutlej Channel and Wells Passage at 2130 hours. A welcome break in the soaking could last a couple of days.

I mentioned the sunshine this morning. Perhaps I should have been quiet. By the time we cast off from Echo Bay docks the wind was ushering a fresh bank of water logged clouds in over the Broughtons. Our departure was slightly later than planned or we might have escaped the soaking received upon arriving at Sullivan Bay. The delay occured dockside when in passing conversation with another transient boater, I asked if the couple had traveled up here much. This evoked a quick reply of yes, "we do the Waggoners Cruising Guide for northwest boaters. I'm Marylin and this is Bob". Sheepishly I expressed my appreciation of their work and added that this was our key reference for travels in the northwest waters. We talked awhile about sails versus motoryachts and favorite places to go. Marilynn said they were sailors in the early days of the project but when they "went to the dark side", they acquired this vintage Tolleycraft, named Surprise. Although not as stable in weather as their sailboat, Surprise is an able vessel and a comfortable couple's cruiser. I requested a quick snapshot to which they acquiesced and soon I had a few shots recorded with Bob's discriminating guidance.

We left Echo under sail but only briefly. The winds turned and the rain came. We arrived at Sullivan to be helpfully guided to a berth with a view of the surrounding waters and hills and were soon checking in at the General Store. We stocked up on a few dairy items and were handed a golfball upon clearing at the counter. "Tee time is at 5pm", the teller announced. We looked at each other and back to our informant. "Each boater has a shot at free moorage if you can hit a ball off the end of the floatplane dock and into the satellite dish floating in the bay". We chuckled and willingly took the ball and stepped back out into the rain.

Monday - 0800 hrs. The sun is shining! Our energy rises as this orb ascends the crystal blue morning skies. A few low hanging clouds linger in the surrounding hills and inlets giving that classic mystical northwest appearance. We will cast off today, this morning. One load of laundry, two showers, spark plugs replaced in the outboard and well rested we will head north again. We will overnight in Sullivan Bay and weather providing, swing across Queen Charlotte Strait southwest to begin our loop homeward. It is tempting to station Ohana at Sullivan for a few weeks, fly home and return in the warmth of August to bring her south but we are intrigued by the eastern reaches of the Johnstone region and may want to explore the "back passage" to Desolation Sound on this excursion. The area is vast. The lure of intriguing places is limitless. It has been a voyage of invaluable reconnaissance that only tempts further exploration.

The region at Echo Bay could arguably be the most visually appealing in a wide surrounding radius. The mountains tower above an open expanse of water at this confluence of several channels. Granite rock faces plunge into deep darkness yet islands and islets dot the vast openness. Marine and land dwelling wildlife abound. I'm not an expert but would venture a guess that we have seen both the Pacific White-sided dolphin and the Harbor Porpoise in these less open waters. The P.W. dolphin has a most noticeable hooked dorsal fin with a dark leading edge and tapered gray anterior. The H. porpoise is remarkably small with an unremarkable dorsal fin of very modest proportions. Neither show much interest in bow-riding and seem to be going about their own business prdominantly cruising the most turbulent waters with dedicated focus.

The sun is now higher in the morning sky and beckons us on our way. Austin is plotting our course. We will push against a flood tide from here to Sullivan, but at least we will do so in the sunshine!

HEY...HEeyyy....heeyyy....hey...... Yep, we're still at Echo Bay. Rain squalls and the appeal of mid afternoon naps had us content to remain tethered to the sturdy docks. Echo Bay is now run by Pierre (of Pierre's Marina just two bays north ). Pierre and Jerome (Seattlite and 40 year veteran of this area) bought Echo two years ago. This is their third season and they have the operation well in hand from a few indications. First are the impressively beefy docks with massive timbers and tie-ins that would put a smile on Paul Bunyan's face. The friendly reception dockside and clear directions as to the layout of the facilities allows the conversation to transition quickly to the social level. By pure coincidence, we landed on the innaguaral day of Pig Roast Saturdays. Pierre had been cooking since early in the morning and already there was a bustle on the docks of salivating boaters. Now it is not without regret of considerable magnitude that I say we did not partake of this fine swine sup but instead opted to troll the nearby waters for the elusive salmon...and BBQ chicken off our own back deck. We brought the motor to near idle as we re-entered the bay and passed the pig roast in full swing. The smell of the slow roasted pig evoked stronger gastronomic growls as if our stomachs were voicing protest at our decision. Cold, wet and hungry we tied our dinghy behind Ohana and clamored into our cockpit, silently salmonless. We would try again the next day.

Residents of SeaVillage reflecting in conversation on their open porch as the evening light cools the day's ambitions. Echo Bay dwellers live in prime fishing country. Salmon, Ling cod and halibut can be hooked directly off the docks. Prawns and crabs are plentiful only a short dinghy ride away. Property development is being pushed here as this locale remains an active hub for fishing excursions and boat travel into the Broughtons and the Inside Passage.

An eclectic dwelling at the mouth of Echo Bay. This house barge is called Windsong Harbour Barge and belongs to the Seavillage resort of the same name. SeaVillage sits adjacent to Echo Bay Resort on the facing shore of the same bay.

The pilot flew cleanly through the mountain passes below the gray clouds that hung a few hundred feet above the Burdwood Group. We were trolling for kings in the nearby waters as he slid smoothly in to the cove of Echo Bay and taxied to his front porch. "Honey, I'm home"

Austin manages the course for the day and reviews the chart plotter and enters way points. We are especially interested in exploring the Burdwood Group today. The Burdwoods are low lying rocky islets centrally located in the confluence of Fife Sound, Cramer Pass, Tribune Channel and Sutlej Channel. The views of surrounding mountains are inspiring but care must be taken to focus at the water level as Burdwoods demand careful navigation.

Lacy Falls at the northwest end of Watson Cove slides down a 250 foot sheer granite face plunging directly into the salty bay. The depth of the water allows sailors to venture to the base of the cascade - a remarkably unique experience. At the base one can look up beyond the lower cascade to view falls a thousand feet above and then granite faces two thousand feet above the upper falls. The still camera is hard pressed to capture the perspective.

Leaving Kwatsi Bay looking back up Thompson Sound and the surrounding snow capped peaks of nearly 5000 feet towering above sea level. Narrow channels, surging currents make for a most dynamic setting where Nature's forces are in awesome display.

Ziggy (Ziegfried Rogge) and Terry Lynn were our dockmates at Kwatsi Bay. They have traveled the northwest inside passage extensively and were a wealth of knowledge on all points of interest. Strategies for timing and running rapids, best prawning techniques, latest marina developments in the area, bear areas, hidden bays...the list goes on. Ziggy's brother from Dusseldorf will join them this summer as they head toward Prince Rupert Sound.

Quaint and rustic defines the atmosphere and facilities and Kwatsi Bay. Max runs a casual operation which promotes easy going socializing with all the basics covered. The facilities are perched over the water on docks in various states of repair - shower, store, and office are on different platforms joined by weathered 2 x 12 x 12 foot planks. Be careful though, the planks will shift with the tides. This morning, we found the planks leading to shore were in the water and needed to be grabbed with the pike pole left on the dock for that purpose.

Ohana dockside in the morning below the surrounding cliffs of Kwatsi Bay. We collected a decent batch of prawns ( 14 large spotted) this morning from the trap set yesterday and supplemented our northwest scramble breakfast.

Austin on the oars of the "Falls Skiff". The hills in the background are actually 4500 feet high! The entire bay is surrounded by these magnificent rocky giants.

Austin at Kwatsi falls

Exploring a nearby falls at Kwatsi Bay. We rowed the old aluminum skiff, designated the Falls skiff, to the trailhead. A short hike up the overgrown trail revealed a two hundred foot cascade over shear granite. We toted our camera and boat horn (bear horn) and kept a vigilant eye on the thick fern ladened understory. On our approach to Kwatsi Bay we spotted one rotund black bear meandering along the shore, so there was no doubt with whom we were sharing the surroundings. The area also is home to grizzlies, hence the horn. We saw the falls, took a picture and were soon comfortably rowing out away from shore. Not so rough as we look.

We enjoyed a fine run with the wind up Knight Inlet on our way Kwatsi Bay

Tides are swinging more than 15 feet exposing a colorful array of sea flora. The swings provide great tide currents, as much as 7 knots in some passages. Anchorages can be a bit tricky as well.

Our crab trap rests quietly astern of Ohana in Waddington Bay after a peaceful and unproductive night. During most of our stay we were treated to a pair of nesting bald eagles who used the rock islet behind the crab pot as a staging platform from which to launch their nest building atop a nearby fir.

One of the numerous Spout Islets protects our anchorage from NW winds and the swells of the more open waters of Blackfish Sound and Queen Charlotte Strait

Well rested from the night at Spout Islets, Austin brings us through the mixed and strong currents swirling around Stubbs island en route to Port McNeil amid the driving rain. Earlier in the morning we were treated to the bow riding antics of five very enthusiastic Dall porpoises. Their leaps and dives persisted for more than a half hour.

At Port McNeil we will resupply, top off our water and head toward the Broughton's Waddington Bay on Bonwick Island. Mixed showers and sunbreaks are predicted.

Chief navigator pleased with the day's work enjoying our secluded anchorage at Spout Islets. He was soon dreaming of tomorrow's route as the serenity of bird songs and lapping tidal waters brought on a peaceful sleep in the gently rocking cockpit. I would roust him a couple of hours later at 2230 to report that I was retiring to quarters. The helm was his for the night if he would chose.

0700, 22 june: The view over our shoulder, east up Sunderland Channel was pure northwest mystical. This was a welcome beginning to what would be a rare relatively windless day on Johnstone Strait. With favorable weather at hand, we opted for our longer day's destination and passed up Havannah Channel, our previously planned "duck in" for lunch at the Burial Cove to wait out the tide change. A slight SE wind was now assisting and tides against were negligible so we pressed onward toward Telegraph Cove. En route, we were delighted to hear our former slipmates, from Campbell River aboard Buenaventura, conversing with their traveling sistership, Moonshadow. They had evidently weathered their push up Johnstone against 30 knots of wind and their better judgement. They had begrudgingly complied with Moonshadow's urging to press on and make for Billygoat Bay on Helmcken Island amid Race and Current Passages in the worsening conditions of driving wind and surging current. Their last communication was saturated with salt spray and waning enthusiasm for the whole affair as Don in Eyore like tone said "Awwlright" to the piglet like excited plea by Moonshadow to join them in Billygoat. "We'll save an anchorage fafafor you", exclaimed Moonpiglet. Now, on a new day and under calm conditions and like disposition, Don was realying to Moonshadow their intentions to press on to Port Hardy in part to make some repairs from the recent roughing up they experienced. Moonshadow, with undiminished verve, expressed happiness at finding their now somewhat questioning companions. "Don, great to hear from you again!" Apparently, Don and Heather had taken a break from their surging guide into the jaws of Johnstone. "Hi Bob", Don drolled. "Don, how have you guys been?" Not expecting a response, Bob lurched forward. "Don, I hooked a huge one today! Took all my line and broke loose! Now that's a fish story. "What were you using Bob?", Don feigned interest. "A spoon. A big spoon. Just trolling. He took it all! You got any crabs yet Don?" "Nope, had one but it was too small", Don almost sighed. "Oh, Don! We have two nice crabs already in the fridge. Ok, well we will move our plans up and meet you at Port Hardy tomorrow. So Don, expect us for dinner!" "Ok Bob", you could almost feel Heather's eyes boring into Don's scalp. Who knows, perhaps they will find harmony as they move slinky like down the west coast over the next six weeks... on holiday.

21 June: On the hook at Douglas Bay in Forward Harbour. We anchored in 60 feet a couple hundred yards off shore in sticky mud. Despite the early season, we made an even dozen vessels sharing the bay. The cove offers unrivaled protection from all directions and provides a strategic launch pad to the Broughtons and points north. NW winds course up Sunderland Channel from Johnstone Strait and hit the beach at Bessborough Bay and are dampened by the forest between Bessborough and Douglas Bay leaving the sheltered boats at peaceful anchor. We opted to stay aboat and forego the hike through bear country to Bessborough but listened with interest to others hiking through the forest clanging their pots and pans. The view from the cockpit was more than satisfying. Snow still caps most tall mountains in the region adding a sense of chill to the air. Sleep was uninterrupted but nature's lights did not dim until nearly 2300 hours. We awoke at 0430 the next morning and had the hook up and were on our way by 0600.

0900 - Skies are mixed. Sun broken, low gray clouds scurrying on a NW wind to destinations past. We will leave Blind Channel in a couple of hours on the final pulse of the flood tide. We will ride the remnant of flood to the confluence with Phillips Channel and turn NW with the slack and beginning ebb through Green Point Rapids. We are heading toward the Broughton Achipelago, the largest marine park in BC. Today's destination will be Forward Harbor, and an excellent opportunity for bear sightings. Literature advises to carry pots and pans as you trundle over to the bathing beach at Bessborough. The hardware may be employed to call the bears to your cookout. Evidently they enjoy a picnic. Tuesday represents our first good chance to reappear in Johnstone Strait without the strong northwesterlies that have persisted for the past few days. Weather permitting we will make for Chatham Channel and the entrance to the southern Broughtons on Wednesday. A few days are planned for the Broughtons but months are needed to explore this natural haven with a human history dating back 12,000 years. The area is remote so there should be much to communicate toward the end of the week as we either turn SE toward Desolation or NW toward Telegraph Cove - we shall see...

A fine start to Dad's day. Off to fish the SE point above Green Rapids at 0800. Within three minutes we had hooked a three foot ling cod. A twenty minute battle ensued on light gear and ended with a swift well timed scoop of the net. Timing on the flood current was fortunate as well because the water was beginning to pulse and carry us around the nearby islets and toward the head of the rapids. We tethered the large ling to the dinghy, started our trusty Tohatsu and made "upriver" along shore returning to the quiet of Blind Channel's dock.

Later today, we may partake of the Dad's day BBQ offered by the resort (local beef and sockeye) and simply enjoy our first duff day since leaving Bainbridge four very full days ago.

Also, despite the remote location (no AT&T connection), we can enjoy great wireless service and gobble up more information about our next potential ports of call.

16 June - A cold start to the voyage but Austin logs trip plans into the chartplotter to keep the mind warm.

We entered the peaceful refuge of Deep Bay at sunset (2130 hrs) on the east coast of Vancouver Island adjacent to Denman Island. Plans to anchor at Hornby's Tribune Bay were thwarted by 20 knots wind driven waves. Always good to have a backup plan.

Thursday, June 17 began at my usual wake up time of 0530 hrs. I'm awake. The view through the forward berth hatch is gray. I blink. Is it the fog outside or the fog in my morning head? Another look with conscious concentration and the gray view persists. the random processing of waking thoughts now engages the topic of fog and the possible ramifications. We may have to sit until the soup clears. we could still go with radar and GPS chart plotter. Really, there is no hurry. My mind circles the topic like a wandering visit to the zoo. After seeing the monkeys for the third time, I roll out of bed and pad over to the gangway hatch and peer out past our cockpit to see our neighbors charred BBQ grill clearly still hanging off of its stern mount, a blackened monument to last night's dinner or some domestic ceremony. So it is confirmed. Visibility is fine beneath a solid gray sponge of clouds.

We cast off our mooring buoy at 0630 and made for Dodd Narrows by way of Swanson Channel to Trincomali Channel through the Houstoun Passage to Stuart Channel all to favor the best tidal current and avoid the apposing morning ebb.

At 1330 we were perched above Dodd with others awaiting the turn at 1420. At 1400 we slid into the narrows to meet the lingering current (about 1.5 knots) but pushed our way through to exit the north side near slack.

At 1600 hours we passed Schooner Cove with following seas and a 10 knot SW wind and elected to make for Hornby. The freshly updated marine weather forecast told of SW winds building to 15 knots in the evening but subsiding to light NE winds by early Friday morning. This confirmed our deision but still we planned for a backup if conditions worsened. Seas gradually built from 2 feet, to 3 feet and yes to four feet with frothy tops. We reached our "decision" way point just five miles out from Hornby, we laughed and quickly agreed it was time to execute the backup. We came round 90 degrees and made for the protection of Deep Bay... across the faces of four footers. Staysail and reefed jib were deployed to afford some stability as we crab walked toward our destination. Ohana rode like the seaworthy ship she is as the game of tag with bull waves continued for the next hour. So we made our way rocking, rolling and lurching to the beat of clanging pots, pans and dishes being hammered by some crazed Caribbean cook in our galley.

At 2130 hours we ducked into Deep Bay, past the fish farm to the public docks nestled beneath the protective arm of the quiet cove. A jumble of vessels of various ages, size and denomination were wedged into the otherwise voluminous dock space. We eventually found an open space at the most inland reach of the docks and carefully moored nose to nose with another sail vessel and Ohana's derriere dangling out past the stern section of dock. We were secure for the night. Within thirty minutes a spray-drenched Search and Rescue vessel glided past and tied up just past our "nose" partner. I was quickly topside and over to confer with seaman who was already hosing down the bright orange pontoons. "A bit rough today", I broke in. "Yep, we were out on high speed rescue drills", he replied with a salty grin. I inquired as to my position on the dock and he nonchalantly said, "It's a private dock for the yacht club, but it's ok they allow reciprocal moorage for other clubs. Are you from a reciprocal club?" "Well, I doubt it", I said hopefully apologetic. "Suppose I could still stay?" "I don't see why not. Just pay the public dockmaster up at that white office building." He wagged his head across the maze of sleeping boats as he continued to spray off the salt. "Thanks", I replied and returned to Ohana to prepare dinner and fall into bed.

Austin brought us in to Blind Channel. Wind peaked at 30 knots as we ducked out of Johnstone Strait. Skies were clear as the highest grade of sapphire reflecting sunlight off of water to match.

Arrived Blind Channel at 1600 hrs. We enjoyed a smooth run through Seymour Narrows even sharing the passage with a tug and large tow. Correspondence with the tug captain via VHF CH16 made certain we both knew the other's intentions. A blustery run to Johnstone Strait in 20 knot winds on our nose made for a bit slower journey than expected but with favorable ebbing tide we kept over 6 knots of pace. Wind grew to 25 knots as we approached Ripple Point (big ripples) and we ducked into Blind Channel for a quick run the the BC Resort. We are at the dock now for the night. Already took a short hike to an 800 year old cedar tree and noticed some relatively fresh bear scat on our return. We finished the hike with eyes more up than on the trail and amused ourselves with talk of dinner, both ours and the bears.

1019 hrs - Too much write about and too little time at the moment. We must catch the slack at Seymour Narrows on our way to Blind Channel this afternoon. Other neighboring vessels are casting off with the same intentions so we are soon to follow suit. Much data and reconnaissance collected to navigate safely northward. We made customs clearance on our first day. Bedwell reached by 1900 hrs from Bainbridge departure at 0730. The following day saw a 2100 hrs arrival at Deep Bay near Denman Island in the Georgia Strait - a welcome safe harbour from the SW blow on the Strait. And now we depart Campbell with full water and 3/4 fuel and provisions to take our time meandering through the eastern reaches of Johnstone Strait. Winds and tides are always on our mind. Short passages are the rule. Hope to Blog with more leisure soon.

This year's voyage north with Ohana will test new waters, skills that we have and some that we will discover. Stepping into these natural environs with considerable forces of water and weather invites a variety of tests. But this is just Nature's way of strengthening all creatures. Navigating the Northwest waters demands one's attention to a process of testing, discovery and adaptation. Plan and prepare but be aware and flexible. So again , Ohana will transport us into a world of swirling dark currents, gale winds, fog enshrouded reefs, as well as sun drenched secluded bays, gamboling dolphins and downwind reaches over sparkling water. Yes, this will be another voyage of great horizons.

Tomorrow, Austin and I will ride the ebb tide out of Puget Sound, cross the strait of Juan de Fuca and catch the flood pushing northward into the San Juan Islands. Weather permitting, we will drop our hook in the waters of Bedwell Harbour and await the morning for customs clearance and favorable tide to begin carrying us to the northernmost tip of Vancouver Island.