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.