Port Alberni & Barkley Sound at Vancouver Island

[j&lgray]

After spending two days re-supplying the Laurie Ann, we pulled away from the driveway and towed her north on Interstate 5 arriving two hours later at the ferry terminal south of the City of Vancouver, British Columbia at Tsawwassen. We took advantage of the mid-week discount fare and made a reservation because of our 52 feet of length and being over height at 12-4. The cost of one-way transit is still significant at $230. We arrived an hour before the sailing time and the tug took her place with the 18 wheelers that provide the supplies for Vancouver Island.

We crossed the Strait of Georgia in two hours, landing at Duke's Point near Nanimo and after a brief stop for fuel and fresh vegetables and fruit, we continued overland toward Port Alberni, a seaport that is 21 miles up a fjord from Barkley Sound and the Pacific Ocean. The truck labored to climb the 8% grade to the 1,245 foot pass and we geared down for the long 6% grade that ended abruptly at the water's edge. Even with our best preparations and cautious driving, the disk brakes and the hubs on the King Trailer were very hot to the touch. We had spent the big dollars only a week before in servicing the bearings and replacing all of the disk brake calipers because they had over 3,000 miles over two years and many dippings into the salt water. A service that likely prevented huge problems.

We launched into a river at a great ramp north of Port Alberni three hours after leaving the ferry and motored down the fjord toward China Creek Marina. The truck and trailer were left at a large lot for $12 a night. We arrived at China Creek 45 minutes later to find that the marina office was closed but the permanent residents who gathered around the boat ramp for entertainment value were truly impressed with the tug's lines and performance in the fresh breeze that blew across the docks. They told us about an open spot and encouraged us to tie up for the night. All the Canadians that we met were exceptionally friendly.

Tomorrow it is westward down the fjord to the much heralded beauty of Barkley Sound, a place that is generally visited by the larger boats who brave the Strait separating Canada from the US and the Pacific Ocean. This place has long been on our list to visit and the tug has given us this opportunity.

We will keep you updated as our trip unfolds and the availability of the Internet.

 

[Bruce Moore]

Wow. How cool is that.

Anxiously awaiting the next update.

 

[Grumpy]

John & Lauri,

Watch out for a burgundy C-Dory 255 Catameran "Dreamer". They made the same trip July 6th.and are currently somewhere in Barkley Sound.
We would have been with them but for problems leaving one heartbroken 12 year old German Shepherd who recently lost his "buddy".

Merv & Kathy

 

[johnniethek]

J and L,

You beat me to it. I was going to make that exact same trip this summer. Not sure there will be enough time to do so, given other commitments, including two weeks in Desolation Sound/Campbell River area the last half of August.

So I will have to enjoy that trip vicariously through your good reports here.

Cheers,

JtheK

 

[j&lgray]

Thursday, July 8, 2010

The day started with the noise of footsteps on the metal grate ramp in the pre-dawn hours as the fisherman loaded their small powerboats to fish for Sockeye Salmon. Finally rising at 6:30 AM hour because of hearing all the comings and goings, the air temperature was 58 degrees and climbing quickly. Opening the curtains, fish and game officers were inspecting the boats that were coming back from their sunrise fishing and were taking action for having to many fish or not having a fishing license. Over the next hour, we watched the two fish cops scurry about with their ticket books and log book, taking notes, and contacting the arriving fisherman.

After a nice breakfast of cold cereal, juice and fruit, the boat was inspected and readied for sailing. Coolant was added to the reservoir and the intake filter was inspected and cleaned. The young man working the fuel dock was asked about the cost of moorage and he replied that he only knew about boat launching fees and pumping fuel; that was clearly the limit of his training and responsibility to the marina. When asked if we were good then, he said, “Sure” and we were off at 0735 hours having enjoyed a free night at the dock.

Clearing the breakwater and turning left toward the ocean, we immediately saw the scores of small powerboats trolling the wider areas of the inlet. The boats were doing a slow dance of moving to entice the Sockeye toward their bait but avoiding colliding with other boats. For miles we would slowly go through a group or go around them and then have periods were there were no other boats. At some unknown point, like a line drawn across the inlet, there were no other boats fishing for Sockeye and we had the inlet all to ourselves. We motored at the tug’s fast cruising speed with my eye scanning the coolant temperature. After about 20 minutes, the temperature would ease up another 25 degrees and I would slow down causing the engine to cool quickly to its normal 175 degrees.

San Mateo bay was on the Southside of the inlet and offered protection from the northwest winds that were forecasted by Environment Canada to build to near gale force in the late afternoon. A public float was rumored to be in the bay. These floats were built years ago and rarely, if ever, maintained. The float may be there or it may be gone; it was a crapshoot and there was no expectation that the government would be committed to providing it for perpetuity.

We scanned the shoreline and noted the three aqua farm operations. Around a small hook of rock, protected from the winds, was the empty floating dock. We tied up and enjoyed a light lunch in the rising heat and put up the windshield cover and closed the curtains. I took a ride in the dingy with the new outboard motor and did the circumference of the bay. The aqua farms were not staffed but large signs told the wandering boater to stay away. The many blue floating plastic barrels marked the pens were some unknown species was being grown for harvest. Each of the three farms had a different design and was probably growing different products. After about an hour of exploring and becoming concerned about the diminishing fuel level in the small tank in the outboard motor, I headed back to the tug making a mental note to remember to bring the two-way radio and the extra gas can because rowing back in the head wind would be tough way to get the daily quotient of exercise.

Two fishing boats joined us on the float for a short time. One fisherman who was single-handling his boat taught Laurie how to fish for sockeye and now she has aspirations to be a fisherman. The other boat had limited out on Sockeye and they traded two beers for a fish and filleted it for us. We took the leftovers for crab bait and put tonight’s dinner in the refrigerator. We waved our good-byes as they headed back to their big recreational vehicles in the campground at China Creek Marina and Campground.

In the quiet of the late afternoon and in the rising heat because this float was protected from all wind, even the cooling kind, we decided to push off and head to Poetts Nook, a small harbor about 30 minutes away. Every time we are underway, we use the charging power of the engine to power the inverter to charge something; the computer, a cellular phone or an electric toothbrush. You try to not waste anything while boating.

Along the way, we put our nose into a long and narrow cove that the Raymarine chartplotter indicated was acceptable anchorage. When the depth suddenly rose from 55 feet to 6, the tug was put into reverse and we backed out of there. We crossed Numukamis Bay and picked out the very narrow but quite deep entrance to Poett Nook. With mature Cedar and Hemlock trees to the water’s edge and rocks peaking above the high tide, the entrance was narrow but easily doable at slow speed. Once inside the cove, the marina, store, boat ramp and campground revealed itself. We opted to anchor on the opposite side of the development, dropping the trusty Danforth anchor in 30 feet of water. A reset was necessary when the tug’s stern was abruptly in 4 feet of water; that rock would reveal itself in the morning during the low tide.

The salmon was marinated with Teriyaki and grilled. It was splendid with green beans, drinks of rum and coke and bite-sized brownies. The crab trap was put down for the night with the remains of the sockeye for bait. I discover the anchor light is not working and after doing a a roof-mount troubleshooting with a voltage meter, the bulb is burned out; something that should have been checked at home or a spare carried. Both did not happen. So, until we can get to a reasonable boat store, the tug will be one of those many boats that do not use an anchor light.

After boat showers for everyone, the evening was closed with the first installment of the rummy marathon game. I awoke in the middle of the dark night to a splash or a thump against the hull. A quick check of the depth and the outside showed no issues but the night sky was full of millions of stars.

 

[j&lgray]

Friday, July 9, 2010

Perhaps because the night was cooler, we slept longer and did not wake up when the parade of fishing boats left at sunrise to pursue the returning salmon. A heavy dew provided the opportunity to give the tug a good wipe down. After breakfast, the crab trap was pulled to find two crabs that would be tonight’s dinner. The anchor was pulled at 9:25 AM and we idled out into Trevor Channel, turning left and did a slow cruise down to the community of Bamfield, about 60 minutes at slow cruising speed.

We motored the entire length of the narrow harbor and noted the two government docks with its red painted handrails on the ramp. One side of the harbor is accessible only by boat while the other side is on the mainland and supports the wide range of community services that the resident population of 1,800 requires and the tourists desire.

We tied up to a dock thinking it was a government dock but was actually owned by the Banfield General Store and licensed liquor dispenser. We decided to buy an 8 pack of beer that, according to the sign, would allow our stay at the dock for an hour, as we wanted to walk the boardwalk that was along the water’s edge. Spending nearly $18 for 8 beers seemed a steep but acceptable trade for this privilege. The manager or owner of the store caught our comment as he leaned against the boardwalk’s handrail and told us to move our boat because the dock was his parking lot. With the taste of bad service and public relations in our throats, we moved to the small public dock thinking about how one bad encounter can spoil the good intentions and a lot of effort to build a community’s reputation with the public.

We enjoyed a brisk walk along the narrow wooden boardwalk, past small wood frame homes, some needing vast amounts of repair while others were well cared for. A small shed with windows added was the West Banfield Bistro and Coffeehouse that was complete with a doggie bar where pets could be tethered and have water. The boardwalk’s railing had flower boxes placed and contained bright flowers that were watered and cared for. We walked along to a twin set of docks that was home to small boats, both recreational and commercial, and had open room for more and found the new sign announcing the Bamfield Small Boat Harbor. If we were going to stay the night, this would be the place.

We opted to leave Bamfield, spinning the tug in its length and leaving the harbor to head for Robber’s Passage on Fleming Island where the Port Alberni Yacht Club maintains an outstation for its members. The passage is narrow, guarded by granite rocks that come from Fleming and Tzartus Islands. A prominent marker announces the huge rock that is below the surface. Slow speed and paying attention to depth makes this route safe.

The Port Alberni Yacht Club outstation was a very pleasant surprise. No starched shirts, fancy hats, or huge cruisers here. It was great for several reasons. First, we were greeted at the dock by Norman and later his wife Marlene who have been at the outstation since late May. We could stay on the dock at no cost until 4 PM. Overnight moorage was a dollar a foot and “chlorinated creek water” available.

Norman explained that the Yacht Club founded the outstation in the 1970’s with a lease from the province and over time has expanded the lease to docks and some utilities. The outstation needs the daily involvement, work and monitoring of the club members. Norman explained that the revenue from the visitor moorage accounts for about 50% of the needs to maintain the facility.

The quality of their improvements would rival most of the government run parks that we had seen. “One trail goes to Sunrise Beach, “Norman was telling us. “The other trail goes to sunset beach and the trail that connects them is called ‘sonofabitch trail,’ because it was a son-of-a-bitch to cut.” Norman was right, the under-story of vegetation was so thick that it prevented any penetration by an animal larger than a small dog and the density of the hemlock and cedar trees cast a dark pall throughout. We walked the narrow trails to the beaches of broken granite, to the shallow pools of mussels and climbed the weathered logs that were thrown up on the beach.

Finally what made this place memorable was meeting Roger and Janet who had their Tomcat 25 boat next to the tug at the guest dock. We had seen them twice the day before in passing. They are a pleasant couple who had stepped down in boats from a Krogen 39 to a 25-foot Tom Cat, a boat that Jeff Messmer had sold them. We shared the same pride of working on our boats and making them personally comfortable. They knew people that we knew: Mac and Linda of Island Ranger, two new owners of Ranger Tugs who traded in their C-Dorys and Merv and Kathy on Whidbey Island who owned a Rosborough and who knew Norman and Clarice Gregory. This boating world is small indeed. They are accomplished at crabbing and catching prawns in traps but they do not fish. For many cruisers that we have met over the years, cruising seems to conflict with serious fishing.

The two Poett Nook crabs were boiled to perfection and served with French bread and grilled shrimp. A layer of low clouds had kept the day comfortably cool and a slight and short-lived drizzle came before sunset. After dinner, more stories were swapped with Roger and Janet until the mosquitoes and biting horse flies drove us back into our respective boats. Three powerboats came in during the early darkness and the guest dock was suddenly nearly full.

 

[j&lgray]

Saturday, July 10, 2010

The Port Alberni Yacht Club outstation docks remained quiet through the morning. The late arriving fishing boats had left for fishing and the remaining boaters continued to be respectful of the quiet time. After Laurie had a shower using the marina facilities, eggs and bacon were fried, the engine was checked, and a nagging leak from the galley faucet was fixed. The water tank was half full after three days of use, so it was topped off. Nettle Island in the Broken Group Islands that is in the Pacific Rim National Park was chosen as the next destination.

At 10:30 hours we cast off and the tug was threaded between the huge rocks that are easily and safely passed and started the crossing of Eagle Channel that separates the Deer Group Islands from the Broken Group Islands. The channel waters were a one to two foot chop with an occasional three footer. It is a sobering sight to look to the west and not see land, only the endless Pacific Ocean. A heavy fog bank remained off shore but the weather report said that Bamfield’s visibility was limited to one mile with a forecast of clearing in the afternoon.

The tug was making the 12-mile trip to the north in great time but Boots, out cat, lost her breakfast at both ends after an hour of these seas hitting the tug’s beam. Once inside the protection of the Broken Group islands, the water was flat and the wind was very gentle. We snaked through the small islets and rocks, past our first sighting of the big-boy boats that are common in our normal cruising grounds. We chose a small cove tucked back into Nettle Island and dropped the anchor in 30 feet knowing that the early low tide at sunrise would still give us 15 feet under the tug. Later, the stern tie line was taken to a tree and back to keep us secure and predictable as the gentle breeze moved through the islands.

A dinghy ride around this area revealed several other big boats, a floating ranger’s station and residence that was not occupied, and the conclusion that the low island’s vegetation was so thick to prevent any land exploration. After lunch, I went on a “dipping dive” to explore the bottom of this shallow cove while Laurie would watch my bubbles and man the boat. It was very nice to get wet, to hover in neutral buoyancy, and to be one with breathing. The algae bloom had reduced the water’s clarity substantially in the first 20 feet, the bottom was broken rock and mud with only a smattering of interesting plant life. The Danforth anchor was examined on the bottom and manually reset to provide better holding power. As the boat was circled, the occasional red rock crab would wave its pinchers. In 25 minutes, I had seen all there was at that 35-foot depth. Laurie was a gem at helping to remove and rinse the dive gear.

Laurie talked to family and another installment of the marathon rummy card game was accomplished. Washing the tug’s windows of salt and re-applying another coat of Rainex made them all sparkle. After a fine dinner of steak on the barbie with a mix of grilled onions and potatoes, we watched the “Sister Act” on the laptop with sound over the boat’s audio system.

 

[j&lgray]

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Low clouds and a whisper of a breeze greeted us. We were slow to get going, being in no hurry as the next destination was only about 7 miles away. As I wiped down the tug using the morning dew, Boots walked the toe-rail, jumped onto the roof and explored her upper world of boat living, her paws denting the canvas over the cockpit.

The stern-tie was easily brought in because the line is long enough to loop around a tree on shore and then secured back on the boat. Putting on heavy weight gloves, I pulled the line to the boat and Laurie quickly reels it onto the line reel where it sits on the swim step allowing the water to drip off the boat. Then the dinghy is quickly raised with one pull against the pivoting davits and the outboard motor, fixed to the stainless mount that pivots on the dinghy’s transom, is swung up and secured with a wing nut to the tug’s railing. With the diesel engine idling comfortably, Laurie goes forward to the anchor line, uncleating it and standing back as the electric windlass pulls in the rope and chain rode up as the tug is eased forward and kept in line toward the anchor. Once the Danforth anchor is it’s roller, Laurie ties it down, and we are off.

We had chosen the destination the day before and took our time getting there because we wanted to heat the tug’s water tank and top off the batteries with the diesel engine’s systems. Motoring along at 6 knots and after just clearing the narrow passage of a cluster of islands, the distinctive blow of mist by a whale was seen about a mile away and then the wave of good-bye by the whale’s flukes as it made its deep dive in search of food. Motoring slowly to the area and keeping an eye on the clock to time its deep dive, we were surprised when the whale surface about 50 yards from the tug and then took 4 shallow breaths in preparation for another deep dive. By its dark color and short dorsal fin, we concluded this was a Humpback whale; our first, but it is common in these waters.

We easily found the small passage between Chalk and Dodd islands and avoided the rocks and reefs that guard the entrance. The chart, slow speed, binoculars, and applying judgment based on experience and training made it all nearly risk-free. The anchor was dropped in 33 feet at the lee side of Willis Island and as we waited for the accustomed time to make certain that the anchor was securely set in the mud, phone messages were left and the dinghy was pivoted onto the water. We are thinking that this is a good lunch spot.

We motored some and rowed some around the perimeter of the bay, into the shallow waters full of oysters and steamer clams. Bald eagles squawked and soared above us and a Common Merganser with her four young chicks took to the water from a nearby rock. The mother paused in the water and all the chicks climbed onto her back and she scooted them across the water, the mother-of-all ferries.

A campground for kayaks was found on a point of land that had a beach of white, crushed granite. The nearby tide pools were teeming with animal and plant life. Norman at the Yacht Club outstation was right about the sea life is active where there is current and surf. We walked all that we could in this part of the forest whose understory was cleared by decades of camping, using muscles that had been idle by spending too long on the boat.

Back at the tug, we had a light lunch and played another installment of the marathon rummy card game as we waited for the light fog that was enveloping the islands to lift and the breeze to moderate. After 3 days, the score is Laurie 241, John 27; the lowest score is ahead.

Some boats have left and others have arrived but nothing our size. In the late afternoon, we decided to head for Effingham Island, about 5 miles away and known for it s great sunsets, trails and popularity. As we headed into Coaster Channel, the chop picked up to 2 and 3 feet and the 15-knot breeze doused the tug’s cabin with its bow spray. We headed into the chop at a 45-degree angle thus making the ride more comfortable. A Harbor Porpoise surfaces and dives into the tug’s bow wake and escorted us for about 5 minutes before disappearing. The surf pounded against the tall, white marker buoy that marks the entrance to Effingham Island sending spray into the air. A large ocean-going sport fishing boat had taken shelter behind an islet at Effingham Bay but its dinghy was bouncing in the chop, a ride that we would have, if we decided to stay. After going all the way to the back of Effingham Bay in search of smooth water and protection and not finding any, we opted to return to the protection of Dodd and Willis Islands. Laurie used the paper charts to keep the total perspective in view and I used the close-up view on the chartplotter to steer clear of the underwater hazards.

In 30 minutes, we had surfed backed and dropped the anchor in 33 feet on a rising tide. At first we put out our normal 3 to 1 ratio of anchor line but when the breeze picked up to a sustained 20 knots with gusts that caused a soft rumble as it rattled across the cockpit canvas, we took the precautionary act of putting out more line two more times. The Danforth anchor has always served us well, now on its second boat and 13 years of service. We turned and swayed in the wind, the smooth water only rippled by the gusts coming over the low and forested islands but we do not drag or slide. Boots senses the security of it all, sleeping quietly in the master berth.

For the evening meal, Laurie sautéed chicken and vegetables that was accompanied by a beer and a squeeze of lime. In the setting sun, more boats arrive; sail boats, small and large powerboats, undoubtedly seeking safe protection from the wind. The sky is clear and the temperature remains in the mid-70’s. Everyone around us has hunkered down in their cabins as the islands are blasted with a strong wind.

 

[johnniethek]

Outstanding stuff, John. Please keep it up.

 

[Zuma]

Just like we're there with you.... glad you found a protected harbor Sunday afternoon. Keep the blog coming!

 

[Bruce Moore]

Thanks. Good cruising.

 

[j&lgray]

We have another day of internet access.


Monday July 12, 2010

The morning was clear and cool and the wind had moderated to a gentle but steady breeze. The lowest tide of the day revealed the rocky reefs that drop steeply from the tree lines on the islands. Oatmeal for breakfast and the destination options are determined that are dependent upon the wind and sea conditions that the tug will encounter. The first option is Ucluelet (pronounced you-clue-let), a small community that is nestled inside a long harbor on the northwest corner of Barkley Sound. Internet, reliable cell phone service, a few provisions, maybe laundry and the ability to walk more than a mile would be nice, though not required. If the wind and seas prevent a safe transit, the next option is follow the northwest wind into the northeast corner of the Sound.

The windlass makes the long pull of the 160’ of anchor rode in about 2 ½ minutes and the Danforth pops up without mud or seaweed. We idle out of bay and through the channel between Dodd and Chalk Islands doing the slow S-turns around the rock reefs that are exposed at this low tide and turned northwest into Loudon Channel. The wind-created chop is 1 to 2 feet, not unlike a typical afternoon at the mouth of the Snohomish River at our homeport of Everett, and bringing the tug speed up to 2,900 RPM or 11 miles per hour and not using the trim tabs to bring the bow down, keeps the bow above the chop and minimizes the spray that douses the cabin.

We angle across Loudon Channel, making for Ucluelet that is 15 miles away, while skirting the shallows of Sargison Bank and the occasional log. On the north side of Sargison Bank is Newcombe Channel and as we turn to the west and around a large commercial fishing ship with a net in the water, the tug takes the rising chop on the bow as the wind is intensifying with the heat of the day. The ride is comfortable enough and the tug is catching up to Vixen, a 38 foot sailboat from Portland and passes it at the narrowest part of Newcombe Channel between Food and Chrow Islands. After making the turn to approach Ucluelet Inlet, there is a 10 minute period while crossing Alpha Passage where the Pacific Ocean swells are felt at their full force and during which, Laurie announces, “Just to be clear, we are NOT going along the coast to Tofino and Nootka Sound!”

Though in the protection of Ucluelet Inlet, the wind has continued to build and is gusting down the inlet with peaks in the low 30 miles per hour and sustained at 20 miles per hour. The Inlet is awash in white caps as we follow the buoy markers past the commercial fishing fleet facilities and toward the Ucluelet Small Craft Harbour. Near the head of the inlet there is prime anchoring opportunities but only the hardiest of the larger sailboats are there with their all-chain rode. The Small Craft Harbour looks packed, so Laurie opted to deviate from our normal routine and made a phone call to the harbormaster’s number that was contained in one of the guidebooks that she packed. Steve quickly answered the call and told us there is one opportunity for a boat our sized; we take it.

We approached the windward side of F-dock and pivot the tug in its length avoiding the mud on one side and the gelcoat of other boats on the other and we let the wind propel the tug into the dock, using the thrusters to make a feather-soft landing. The tug is squeezed up against the small fishing boat ahead of us as Steve makes his introduction. There is a sailboat coming in now and we all help the older couple secure their craft behind the tug. They told us that they had been anchored at the head of the inlet for a couple days and were tired of the ride in the heavy wind.

Vixen, the sailboat we passed earlier, comes down the narrow finger channel across the tug, Steve yells to the boat’s captain to, “Swing wide, now!” and then mutters to me that this could be ugly. As the sailboat is turning around in the finger channel, the boat’s bow is headed for the dock on a collision course and three men pushing on the heavy craft will not prevent it. Steve, the veteran harbormaster joked that he knows how to give orders but not how to handle a boat, yelled, “Put her hard into reverse and turn her hard to port.” The boat shuddered under the reverse power and eased to the dock sideways without a nick.

The wind continued to intensify through the afternoon pushing the tug into the dock and causing the three ball fenders to earn their keep. Steve said the wind was keeping boaters in the harbor and keeping others from moving across the Sound. We willingly paid the 80 cents per foot, the $3 power fee and the $3 Internet access.

After a light lunch, we started to explore the Ucluelet, population 1,800 but has a seasonal population of much more. The locals call themselves “U-kees.” The longtime community of fishing and timber has re-invented itself with fishing charters, whale watching, kayak trips, bed & breakfast accommodations and a small floating hotel that was a cruise ship, the “Canadian Princess” with its 8 identical charter boats that are named after local geographical points.

In a couple of hours of walking around the community, you get a feel for it. Working class people live near the harbor above the tourist shops and fishing fleet. The main street has the “Co-Op Store” that is the grocery, hardware, sporting goods, and some building supplies all under one roof. On the ocean side of this peninsula is the upscale tourist spots: the Big Beach Lodge, townhouses, condominiums, and the housing tract that will be finished one day when the economy turns around. A store clerk was asked about the walking distance between the inlet side and the ocean side, she had no idea and no wonder; she would have no reason to go there.

We bought some groceries, found the anchor light bulb replacement at a small boat supply store that was well stocked for its small footprint. Small shops and galleries were walked through. As the docks were explored, the charter boat crews sat on the gunnels of their boats drinking pop and gesturing their arms during the telling of stories and their laughter could be enjoyed at some distance away. A shrimp boat arrived in the mid-afternoon and put out the sign that fresh shrimp was for sale. Later in the afternoon, we did laundry and because the wind prevented the use of the BBQ, Laurie did a pasta dinner with meatballs that was followed by a movie on the laptop.

 

[j&lgray]

We are leaving Ucluelet and internet coverage on Wednesday morning. We will post again soon.

 

[j&lgray]

We are back on the grid.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Another change in the weather with fog blanketing the mountains and foothills, visibility was less than a mile until 10:00 AM. We puttered about, had a leisurely breakfast of oatmeal, had plenty of dew on the tug for cleaning, and squeegeed every window with fresh water to remove the dried salt. Laurie started reading aloud the trivia in the tide book and we laughed and joked about her having a case of the babbling trivia.

We pulled away from the dock at the lowest tide of the day and idled through by the tight docks and through the narrow gap between the fishing boats and the mud bar to enter Ucluelet Inlet. The chartplotter lost its fix on the GPS satellites twice but rebooting the system brought them back, a preview of things to come.

As we went by the only diesel fuel station in Barkley Sound, we re-did the math of fuel consumption. We had gone 125 miles on this tank, 80 in Barkley Sound and 45 in Everett, and the tug’s accurate fuel gauge showed just under ¾ of tank. Conservatively, we would probably go another 125 miles in Barkley Sound before pulling the tug back on the trailer, but probably less, and still have 1/3 of a tank of fuel left. A nice reserve cushion for the unexpected and yet the fuel weight is less for the trailer trip over the mountains.

A fresh breeze was behind us and the tide was starting to rise. The tug was powered up to its slow cruising speed of 2,200 RPM at 8.5 miles per hour. With no schedule to follow and a destination that was 15 miles away, fuel economy speed and a pace to see wildlife was appropriate. The low clouds obscured the visibility to about 10 miles, so we ran with the radar on, retraining ourselves on what the targets of rocks and boats look like, and how to tell if a craft is approaching and their distance from us.

We re-traced our route from the previous day and headed up the shoreline on the north side of Barkley Sound this time, the water was nearly flat and the gentle breeze was behind us as we cruised with the flooding tide. The skies completely cleared revealing the mountains to the north and east. The tug was brought up to its fast cruising speed of 3,200 RPM and we clipped along at 13 miles per hour until the temperature gauge slowly eased up to 185 degrees over 15 minutes, the engine was brought back down to 2200 RPM where the coolant temperature immediately returned to 175 degrees.

In 90 minutes, we had nearly traveled the length of Barkley Sound and were passing the tiny Hermit Island when the alarm sounded on the chartplotter that the GPS fix had been lost. Only this time, no matter what we measures we took, the GPS satellites were not being acquired by the chartplotter. We quickly became uncomfortable, fully acknowledging our over-dependence on the electronic device that instantly displayed the boat’s position relative to islands and rocks.

We were not lost but we were slightly bewildered as to our exact location. Was that island over there Snowden Island? Did we pass it already? We want to go to Refuge Island, is that it? Is it that one over there? Or is it over here? We did take a turn that was not planned, getting between Bazett Island and the mainland in a narrow channel with rocks approaching and Laurie picked out the changing color of the bottom, a clue that it was shallow there.

I used the cursor on the chartplotter to mark the tug’s present location and then zoomed in to verify the depth on the depth sounder against the information on the chart. Once we had re-established our confidence in our location, we knew where to turn. As we were heading to the anchorage on Refuge Island, I was not paying attention to the shoals on the chart. Laurie spotted the quickly changing color of the water as the bottom and the rocks rose quickly from the depths to be visible under the water. We were already nearly idling, so the tug was very responsive when put into reverse. The floating aqua-farming operation was avoided and a huge tree that was speared into the mud occupied the preferred anchorage in 20 feet of depth.

We anchored behind Refuge Island in 45 feet, the Danforth setting quickly. We found the backup handheld GPS in the abandon ship bag, its batteries fresh but the 14 year old unit could not acquire any satellites with its old software and the owner’s manual could not be found on how to re-boot the system and download new data. That unit will have to be replaced. Then, magically, when the chartplotter was turned on, the GPS fix was made instantly. Laurie wondered if something had happened to the worldwide GPS system. Maybe a secret military weapon was tested to disable the GPS system?

After lunch, we pivoted the dinghy from the swimstep and into water to explore other anchoring possibilities and to explore Lucky Creek. The dinghy took us across Pipestem Inlet to Bazett Island and small of group of islets to the east. The anchoring possibilities were interesting but the access was narrow and the rocks were numerous.

According to the guidebooks, if you access Lucky Creek an hour before high tide, you could dinghy upstream over the shoals to the fresh falls and pools. Russ and Melody had told us about the beauty of Lucky Creek and their message of, “Go ashore at the cedar that overhangs the water,” would somehow make sense. We avoided shoals of oysters and grass as the creek left the Sound and penetrated deep into the forest. It seemed like we were in a bayou in the southeast rather than on the west coast of Vancouver Island. After several turns, the short falls came into view. As it came closer, a better view of the smoothed granite and where the water had forced its way through was revealed.

On the right side of the falls was a cedar tree and its long branches over hung the water. Going under the branches, a large boulder, smoothed by the water, came to the water’s edge with steps in it. Over the boulder was a very steep but do-able trail. Suddenly, a mature bald eagle flew overhead, perhaps 30 feet from us and landed in a nearby tree. We tied the dinghy to the roots of the cedar tree, easily climbed ashore and used both hands to grab roots and hand holds to pull and walk up the steep slope. In a few minutes, we were atop a small granite ridge that held the water back, forming a pool whose bottom was covered with rounded river rocks.

The granite wall was smooth from centuries of spring flooding. Upstream, Lucky Creek continued northward into the mountains was more short falls cascading over granite rocks, kicking up some white water in its urgency to get to the ocean. We stayed at this idyllic place taking in the sights and sounds and the serenity of it all.Returning to the dinghy, we used the oars in tribute to the beauty of the creek, and easily traveled the length the creek.

The breeze had faded away and in the late afternoon, Refuge Island lived up to its name. Except for the evidence of clear cut logging and flagging tape that mark a future project, probably the next Indian Casino, there was no evidence of anyone and as the sun went down, we realized the uniqueness of Barkley Sound. Though the scenery was basically same as the San Juan Islands, the Gulf Islands, Desolation Sound and other cruising areas in the Salish Sea, Barkley Sound was remote; there were few, if any, other boaters. At night, there are no lights or evidence of any other human kind and at most places; there is no cell phone or Internet coverage. Barkley Sound was a remote as many parts of Southeastern Alaska.

For dinner, Mahi Mahi was grilled on the BBQ and served with new potatoes. After dinner, chocolate brownies were baked on the BBQ and though not perfect by at-home standards, they were incredible and served with hot tea while watching a movie on the laptop with the boat’s great sound system.

The night was dead calm with no wind and no ripples or wakes.

 

[j&lgray]

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Low clouds and fog with visibility of about a mile made for a slow morning. Laurie scrambled eggs with lots of veggies and served it with fruit, juice and coffee while I wiped down the tug and did the pre-departure inspections of the mechanical system. The fog was lifting as the tide continued to drop exposing the tidelands that were rich in sea life. Laurie spotted it first, looking over my shoulder at the tug’s dinette and out the cabin door, she paused with a forkful of egg in mid-air and said, “Bear. On the shore. Right now.”

A fully mature, large, black bear had emerged from the woods, 200 yards away, and was lumbering along the water’s edge smelling. It would stop and roll a rock with its huge paw, sniff, eat and continued the hunt. We watched in awe and silence for 20 minutes as the bear foraged; we were spectators and visitors to the bear’s world.

We took the dinghy out and paddled around the small islets that nearly encircled the tug, examining the shallow water where Laurie announced the names that she knew: moon snails, bat sea stars, oysters, sunflower sea stars and other sea stars that would need looking up when we got back to boat. The oysters were very thick in some places and non-existent in others. Bags of oysters were seen in their blue netting in an attempt to re-establish the colony; the oyster spats would grown on the old shells. The flooding current drifted us over eelgrass that was teeming with small fish.

We pulled up the anchor at about 11:30 hours with the sun coming out and headed up Pipestem Inlet at a slow cruising speed. The inlet is quite deep in triple digits, and lined with 1,000 plus high mountains on each side. There are narrow spots along its 4-mile length and ends at a sand bar and a small creek enters. We rode the incoming tide and the 10-knot breeze. Bald eagles were frequently seen. There is no anchorage here; the triple depths end with vertical wall at the sandy beach and the creek’s mouth. We turned and thoroughly enjoyed the trip back. Near Refuge Island, we spotted Roger and Janet in their Tomcat 25, “Dreamer,” and briefly talked with them on the VHF.

We continued on another 5 miles to the Pinkerton Islands, a cluster of small islets, with narrow and accessible bays, hoping to find an anchorage for the night. A large cruiser occupied every bay we found that was suitable for anchoring. Several of the boats we had seen before. Barkley Sound has its own unwritten and unspoken rules about anchoring close to other boats; you don’t. We looked at one bay twice thinking about how to anchor there but we felt that we were too close to the other boat. Now, we would never have second thoughts if we were doing this in the San Juan Islands or the Canadian Gulf Islands; if there is room, you take it. We did do a lunch anchor in the Pinkerton Islands, putting the transom in 6 feet of water that was fine for this high tide but it would be mud in a few hours.

Continuing on to record number of 30 miles on this trip, we continued traversing across the eastern shore of Barkley Sound and going around the peninsula that is bounded by Pipestem Inlet on the north, the Pinkerton Islands on the south, and the Alma Russell Islands on the east. The entrance to the Alma Russell Islands and its Julia Passage was cluttered with rocks and islets and that was clearly for local boaters only. Laurie had learned of an anchoring opportunity near John’s Island that was at the beginning of Effingham Inlet. We rejected that one but found an idyllic spot nearby and just around a hook of land. The small bay went quickly from 170 feet to 25 feet and the Danforth set solidly. The tide would drop by 9 feet leaving the stern in 8 feet of water at 10:00 AM the next day; plenty of room if we are still here then. A stern tie was run to a fallen tree and returned to the tug. We were set and secure.

In the late afternoon, we watched a teenage bald eagle, with its mottled markings, try to hunt the school of fish that was kicking up water around the tug; the mature parent eagle was flying overhead in apparent supervision. We rowed the dinghy around our anchorage drifting over the variety of sea stars, mussels, and the occasional oyster. As darkness fell around the entrance to Effingham Inlet, we played five more games of rummy while sipping Hennessy and then watched a movie.

 

[j&lgray]

Friday, July 16, 2010

The night air was still and the boat’s ride was quiet and solid. We awoke to a low tide and took quiet pride in properly setting the anchor and the stern tie line; the tug was nearly surrounded by a rocky beach and large boulders as the transom floating in 9 feet of water over eelgrass. As we were doing our normal routines, I saw the young black bear foraging on the beach about 50 yards away. It stood up on its hind legs and sniffed the air, probably got a reading on us, and sauntered back into the woods. 10 minutes later, the bear appeared on the next beach, sniffing rocks, turning some over, and eating.

Boots (our cat) saw this bear as she was exploring the bow area of the tug. She hunkered down on the deck, undetectable from inside the cabin, as she looked over the short ledge that encompasses the deck. The predator and the prey; she was hiding, not hunting. We watched until the bear left.

Ready to leave, we quickly worked together to bring in the anchor line enough to but the transom in 10 feet of depth, released the stern tie line, pulled it in and reeled it onto the line reel, pivoted up the dinghy and secured in place and brought in the 40 feet of anchor line; all while keeping the boat from drifting to the rocks where gelcoat is no match for mussels on granite.

We did a slow cruise up Effingham Inlet for the next 7 miles. It is sometimes narrow, sometimes wide, where depths are often 400 feet and sometimes over 600 feet, where the tree covered mountain slopes are at least 600 feet. Aqua-farming dominates the first half of the inlet, taking every cove, nook and bend with their nets, buoys, lines, and floating buildings. The second half is truly boating in the wilderness, except for the occasional floating home or the cabin nestled in the woods next to the shore. Living up here, on the west coast of Vancouver Island, defines getting away from civilization. The head of Effingham Inlet is a broad sandy beach where creeks flow into and old stumps mark the place where timber operations once were. Laurie saw our third bear for this trip on the shore near the creek’s mouth. Old logging roads that were over grown with vegetation could still be seen on the shoreline and could be followed into the valleys. The sky had cleared and the water was as flat as a pool table with only a whisper of wind coming up the inlet.

We turned the tug around and sped up to fast cruising speed, covering the same distance in about half the time. As we were looking for a lunch place to drop the anchor, we sighted a carpet of orange sea stars glistening on the rocks at Palmer Point. We poked our nose into a cove off of Vernon Bay and found the backside of Eagle Nook Lodge. The cove was too deep to set the anchor but the nearby sandy beach near Allen Point provided ample holding in 25 feet. As we sat down for a quiet lunch, the seas slowly began to change from small ripples to white caps.

After lunch, we pulled the anchor and started to across the end of Eagle Channel, the seas had built over the length of the channel, culminating in 2 to 3 foot waves with white caps. As we quartered these seas in the sustained 15 knot winds and headed toward Rainy Bay on the east side of Seddal Island, Laurie said, “Don’t get to comfortable with the weather, because it changes every 15 minutes.”

We avoided putting the waves at the tug’s beam that would cause uncomfortable rolling action that could throw items around the cabin. Instead, we zigged and zagged the 6 miles to Rainy Bay using the wind to help propel us forward. Keeping the boat at about 8 to 9 miles per hour created a very comfortable ride.

We headed toward Rendezvous Dive Adventures and Retreat, a place that our boating friends Norman and Clarice had stayed at the previous September, and though we did not have reservations or notice that we were coming, we hoped to stop there if the conditions were right. The conditions were not right. The afternoon seas were pitching over the log boom that protected their two boats and there was no other obvious place to moor. As we approached closer, a man came out of the lodge with binoculars and carefully looked us over. With no place to anchor, we decided to return to nearby San Mateo Bay and its public float.

In 20 minutes, we rounded the familiar Bernard Point and sighted the float that we had known. There was another boat, a tug-design; named Lively Polly tied on the opposite side. We joined them and met Bill and Shirley. They live, “At Port” or what the locals call Port Alberni six months a year and in Costa Rica the other six months. Another “sporty” boat arrived, what the locals call a sport fishing boat and the older couple aboard Swell Bound were also from At Port and the four had a great conversation of who-do-you-know as they worked to prove the theory that everyone is connected by only six degrees of separation.

We had sautéed shrimp and vegetables with wine in the cockpit and then took the dinghy for an exploration of the nearby rock wall and decided to dive this cove and wall tomorrow morning. For Laurie, it would be a get wet dive. I connected with Rendezvous Dive Adventures when Bill said that everyone who lives here monitors VHF channel 06. Kathy at Rendezvous came right back on the radio when I called her. Forget about phone calls. She told us that we could get our tanks filled tomorrow at 9 AM and they had an opening on Sunday for a dive trip. We agreed to meet and talk about it. She asked if we were the cute green boat that came by earlier and I said we were.

 

[j&lgray]

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Low clouds, cool weather, and a quiet anchorage changed our minds about diving this cove. We opted to stay in bed, have a leisurely breakfast of oatmeal and fruit and take our time in leaving San Mateo Bay. We arrived at the Rendezvous Retreat shortly after 9 AM and followed Peter’s waving directions to avoid a submerged rock and rafted onto the side of his main dive boat, the Rendezvous 1.

We quickly liked Peter and his wife Kathy who ushered us into their home and business, handing us mugs of steaming coffee. We talked while Riley, their big and friendly Black Labrador Retriever and Bugs the taffy cat is new to the household circulated among the humans seeking scratches and rubs. Peter and Kathy offered to have us tie unto their dive boat for the night and we could enjoy diving the “house reef” which is immediately in front of their lodge.

Peter started topping off my scuba cylinder with air. “We call them cylinders,” Peter said, “Tanks are something the Germans used during the World War.” But this was no small operation and Peter is man in constant motion because the Rendezvous Retreat is a completely self-contained operation from power, to water, sewage, and buildings. Then, add the dock, ramp, breakwater and two boats. Then, add the complexities of the scuba dive equipment; regulators, dry suits, cylinders, weights and the knowledge and expertise to guide, instruct and rescue. Diving is not the product that they offer; it is the whole context of their retreat: an island wilderness where there are no man-made lights or sounds, whales in the bay, bears on the beach, and great conversation with nice people.

Waiting for the high tide to go diving at the house reef, we did boat cleaning projects, read, Laurie made a cheesecake, and we relaxed. I strained my back, something that I have not done for some time; not exercising, stress, and lifting and turning at the same time caused it. I know that I have to relax it and let it heal for about a week.

With the tide finally up, we did the 30 minutes of preparation for diving and did the giant step off the dive boat into the 50-degree water. The plankton was as Peter had predicted it, about 30 feet thick, but under it, the visibility was great, over 30 feet and the bottom was rich with life. It was a delightful dive.

After the dive and the rinsing of the equipment, we relaxed in the hot tub and later grilled a steak on the BBQ that was accompanied with a salad and red wine. Peter and Kathy returned while the sun was still up and invited us up to their deck for drinks and conversation. For the next several hours, we listened to their stories, challenges and rewards, their journey to this place and they listened to ours; we laughed until it was time to sleep.

 

[j&lgray]

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Another morning of low fog and heavy dew, it coated the dive gear and everything it touched. Laurie made a magically breakfast of eggs with veggies, juice and coffee. The cheesecake that was intended for last night’s dessert was this morning’s breakfast addition. Peter stopped by to say his good-byes as he was working the tasks of the day. We walked up to the lodge and met Kathy, thanking her for the hospitality and made a contribution to the tip jar for their great service. The lines were untied at about 10:15 AM, a good-bye toot on the tug's horn and we rounded Chub Point and headed up Alberni Inlet with a fresh breeze behind as and the waters were flat, the sky was clearing and the temperature was in the high 60's.

Listening to the local chatter on VHF channel 6, we learned that halibut fish are called “Hallies,” and if the water has whitecaps, the seas are described as, “Lumpy.” So, fisherman from Port Alberni who are fishing for halibut in a small fishing boat where the seas have whitecaps could be heard on the radio as, “A couple from Port are looking for hallies in their sporty where it is lumpy.”

Again, not in any hurry, the tug was cruising along at 8 MPH at its low but efficient cruising speed, the autopilot doing most of the steering work. Soon, the breezed turned into a wind and the long portions of the inlet allowed the waves to build to 2 feet with an occasional 3 feet, and white caps. But the ride was great, a gentle sway because we were one with nature and riding the wind and the current toward Port Alberni. We covered the 25 miles in about 3 hours, burning about 3 gallons of fuel.

Laurie had made phone calls about overnight moorage because we wanted to relax, see the town, and make some decisions about the next part of this adventure. The Harbor Quay at Port Alberni had room for us, the Fisherman’s Harbor marina was full of commercial fishing boats. The breakwater that protects the Harbor Quay is the former floating bridge that crossed the Hood Canal in Washington State and it is formidable. The docks were new and space was plentiful. Laurie met another boater at the marina office, Phil, a local resident who kept his boat in the marina. We were directed to a finger pier and the tug was snugged in and plugged in with dockside power. The 15-25 mile per hour wind is a near daily occurrence but the temperature was warm.

Phil came by and offered us to drive us to the store that was 4 miles away and beyond walking distance. He offered to pick us up at the store because he was returning to boat. Phil grew up in Port Alberni and provided a brief historical and community profile. It was the logging capital of Vancouver Island. There were two towns, side by side, Port Alberni and Alberni that combined in 1967 to form the present community. The wide streets and industrial area are symbols of the once vibrant period. The city is trying to come out of a downturn and It calls itself the salmon fishing capital of the world. He dropped us at a nice market that is known for the quality of its meat and he returned on time, as promised and took us and our 8 bags to the marina.

Later in the afternoon, we walked the area, deciding to have an early dinner and settled on a restaurant for our first meal away from the boat at the Swale Rock Restaurant where the local pale ale beer was excellent, the homemade fisherman’s bread with homemade thimbleberry jam was astonishing and we had halibut that was wonderful.

We finished the day, walking the docks, and using the Internet for research. The marathon card game of rummy was concluded.

For this trip, we cruised 171 miles over 11 days, the engine was moving us, generating power and heating water for 30 hours, the engine burned about 60 gallons of fuel and we used about 50 gallons of water.

This concludes our Port Alberni & Barkley Sound trip blog. The tug is returning to its trailer and is being moved and launched at a new place where we will cruise until the end of July.

 

[Lobo]

GPS HINT: I was having similar problems a year and a half ago with my GPS. It was a periodic thing -- but the GPS data would stop and the transducer with depth would not. I tried a lot of things to fix it -- lots of phone calls -- even Andrew took a look at it (he's a Garmin guy, I have Lowrance). Eventually I took the unit and antenna out of the boat and shipped it to the Canadian distributor in Ontario. On the fourth day of bench testing they finally found a glitch in the antenna. I reinstalled with a new antenna and it's been good since.

Some of the errors I had: speed flashing 00, speed on 00 and not flashing; boat indicator on chart not moving; being out of commission for 5 to 20 minutes and then coming back.

I've sport fished out of Bamfield years ago and at the end of March this year Lynne and I took the Francis Barclay from Port Alberni to Bamfield and back. On a delivery from Victoria to Tofino we spent overnight in Effingham. Nice to read your stories and remember the spots -- and the fish. Thanks for posting them.

Dave

 

[dloop]

Thank you for sharing your wonderful experiences.

dave