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 As
two young seniors who don’t sit still very well,
we were ready for another cruising adventure. We wanted
to test the limits of Nordhavn’s new design in
small, long-distance cruising boats. But this was not
to be a vacation. We wanted to take out this new boat,
put it to the test in less-than-ideal conditions, and
collect research for our line of cruising guidebooks
along the way.
We set off from Dana Point, California
on what was to be a fast-paced 4,000-mile shakedown
cruise in calm or high seas, through good weather or
bad, and we accomplished this on just over a tank of
fuel. We moved quickly up the California coast on our
way to Alaska picking up family and friends who shared
the adventure with us. We averaged 42 nautical miles
per day in our brand new, well-designed and outfitted
boat, Baidarka. This trip gave us more variety in the
weather, scenery, urban areas and isolated wilderness
than any other trip we’ve made in our more than
150,000 miles of cruising. We had our ups and downs,
but overall, the boat handled exceptionally well and
we were quite pleased with its performance.
A cautionary note: While Baidarka's
voyage shows that the crew and vessel quickly learned
how to work together in all conditions, this kind of
high-paced and high-risk shakedown should not be undertaken
without a truly seaworthy boat and appropriate safety
and navigation systems—in addition to an adequately
experienced crew.
Our 95-day adventure unfolds in the
following log. . . .
(Conclusions
about the shakedown cruise, the
trip highlights, and a day-to-day
itinerary can be found at the end of the log.)
DAY 1: Tuesday, June 6 With our boater
son-in-law Jeff Mach from Juneau, Alaska, and our grandson
Joshua Douglass from Arizona aboard as crew, we spent
much of the day collecting data at Catalina Island for
use in the upcoming cruising guide, "Exploring
the Pacific Coast, San Diego to Seattle." A brisk
breeze came up in the afternoon and we deployed the
paravane stabilization system with great success. By
late evening we anchored in the lee of Santa Barbara
Island; a stiff breeze continued throughout most of
the night.
DAY 2: Wednesday, June 7
At 0500 Baidarka left for Anacapa
and Santa Cruz Island. A small craft advisory was broadcast
for the Santa Barbara Channel. The paravane system was
deployed all day until we found refuge in Fry’s
Harbor where the wind blew strong all night. Weatherwise,
a 1,009 millibar low near Las Vegas and a 1,028 millibar
high, 1,000 miles west of Pt. Conception, have created
some angry seas in the windy lane on the north side
of the Channel Islands.
DAY 3: Thursday, June 8
After another early start at 0500
hours, we had a comfortable crossing, with stabilizers
deployed, to Coho Anchorage in the lee of Pt. Conception,
known as the Cape Horn of California. There are gale
warnings north of Pt. Arguello so we are happy to find
a convenient anchorage this afternoon. The boat has
been performing wonderfully and the crew is starting
to get its sea legs. We look forward to reaching Moro
Bay by tomorrow night, weather permitting.
DAY 4: Friday, June 9
We left beautiful Coho Anchorage at
0300 hours in hopes of rounding Pt. Conception before
the forecast gale winds hit. At Pt. Arguello just as
the seas built and became confused, Baidarka snagged
a crab pot float on the stabilization system. The crew
had its first potentially serious emergency drill, but
was able to retrieve the fish and cut the crabpot line
without damage. We are now 20 miles south of Pt. San
Luis and are experiencing telltale signs of gale winds
(white stripes of foam forming straight lines on the
sea surface with seas of 7-10 feet). We may have to
hole up in Pt. San Luis and try for Moro Bay tomorrow,
once again, weather depending. At 0950 hours we are
34° 49.80 minutes north, and 120° 41.95 minutes
west.
We decided to push on around Pt. Bushon
and try to make Morro Bay which we did at 1800 hours.
North of Pt. Bushon we started seeing sea otters and
marveled at their comeback from near extinction. We
surfed into Morro Bay across its shallow bar and were
glad to get out of the chop. We had to pull up our paravane
outside of the bar and we quickly realized how much
stability they have been adding in the 25-30 knots of
wind.
We docked at Morro Bay after dodging
a long string of crab pots in 15 fathoms north of the
Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant.
DAY 5: Saturday, June 10
We decided to take June 10 as a layover
and, with the help of a friend, re-provisioned the boat
and made minor repairs. Réanne and I were members
of the Morro Bay Yacht Club when we set sail for the
Great Southern Ocean. It was good to be back as it is
a perfect shakedown or cruising destination along the
Central California coast. We are fascinated by the almost
tame 40-lb. sea otter who lives off the mussels and
crabs along the piers near the Yacht Club. After pounding,
tearing and eating the shellfish stacked on his chest,
the sea otter takes a quick roll to the left and the
water washes his "table" clean of debris.
DAY 6: Sunday, June 11
We leave Morro Bay at 0610 and reach
San Simeon at 1115 as seas build to another northwest
gale. Engine hours equal 64 hours. Tomorrow more gales
are forecast so after listening to the 4 a.m. weather
we decide to stay another day in this lovely, scenic
and undeveloped shelter. Soon 3 yachts and 20 fishing
boats also seek shelter from the gale.
DAY 8: Tuesday, June 13
As we head north, winds at Cape San
Martin are 25 knots gusting to 30 but the seas are down
so off we go. We check out emergency anchor sites at
Lopez Point and Point Pfeiffer. Lopez is marginal and
rolly at best. Pfeiffer Point offers fair protection
behind a reef with a large kelp bed. We are unable to
receive any weather reports along this part of the coast
and Coast Guard coverage from Cape San Martin to north
of Point Sur is very spotty. Baidarka is reacting well
to the rough seas and we decide to duck into Stillwater
Cove in Carmel Bay and spend the night. We anchored
behind Pescadero Rock and had a rolly night.
DAY 10: Thursday, June 15
We leave at 0605 with the weather
forecast sounding like it’s improving. Record
heat wave is hitting the Bay Area with lots of fog along
the coast. We tie up at Pillar Point Harbor at 1745
where we meet FineEdge book designer Melanie Haage and
enjoy pizza and beer while we work on the final draft
of the second edition of GPS Instant Navigation. Half
Moon Bay is becoming a major destination for cruising
boats and live-aboards. Pillar Point Harbor has a low-key
approach compared to Southern California; it has a major
fishing fleet and an easygoing flavor. We find this
quite refreshing after the Southern California high-security
marinas.
DAY 11: Friday, June 16
Anchor up at 0610 and, with the wind
backing to the south, we fly north and spend the morning
shooting photos of Baidarka under the Golden Gate. We
encountered intense turbulence from spring tides and
foggy, fresh breezes combined with heavy, confused seas
in Bonita Channel (the north shortcut across the Potato
Patch) and are at how well our Nordhavn takes the beating.
Visibility was less than 100 yards and our commercial
Furuno radar, Nobeltec and Ocean PC software have proved
invaluable in navigating these treacherous waters in
the sharply reduced visibility. We saw nothing from
Golden Gate Bridge until we were inside Bodega Bay,
however, the winds and seas are moderating with the
arrival of the fog and we intend to take advantage of
it and get as far north as possible. The marinas in
Bodega Bay are at the head of a long, dredged channel
cut through mud flats. It is extremely quiet here. Migrating
birds love the habitat and we saw a number of Snowy
Egrets and White Pelicans with their bright, yellow
beaks. Tourists love the beach camping and the hillsides
are furnished in upscale golf-course chic. There is
a good-sized fishing fleet here but the ice plant is
temporarily shut down and things are pretty slow. The
high-pressure ridge is breaking down so we have fog
and light south winds which makes going north about
as good as it gets. We hope to be around Point Arena
tonight and stay in Fort Bragg on the Noyo River. Just
now we enjoyed watching a grey whale heading north accompanied
by six dolphins.
DAY 12 - 20: Saturday, June 17 to
Sunday, June 25
Webmaster's Note: From Bodega Bay
to the Columbia River the Douglasses spent their time
at sea holding on with white knuckles during the day
and resting while in port. Hence, they did not file
a log until 6/27/00, 20 miles north of the Columbia
River. They were sorry to say goodbye to their son,
Jeff, whose vacation came to an end and he flew home
to Alaska from Eureka, CA.
Réanne and I now know what
slogging up the West Coast is like if we didn’t
before. As the north Pacific high fully developed and
the corresponding thermal lows over California’s
central valley heated up, the pressure gradient became
extreme and the summer prevailing northwest winds hit
with a vengeance. We have had small craft advisories
every day for two weeks with gale warnings a good third
of the time. The gales were a challenge. We had 12-15
foot seas with occasional 20-footers which made life
aboard pretty exciting and miserable. The Leishman Brothers
are correct. Baidarka can take more than her crew. We
buried the bow twice and the boat behaved amazingly
well. We did throw a lot of spray in 30-knot winds and
when the gusts reached 40 knots, the spray flew right
over the top of the boat.
We have learned the value of slowing
down when it gets really rough. On the bad stretches
we averaged 2 knots and Baidarka pitched up and down
30-45 degrees every 10 seconds. This was a real hobby-horse
ride.
North of Eureka the weather caused
the entrance bars to be restricted or closed due to
high-breaking seas. We left Coos Bay, Oregon at dawn
with some threatening––but not breaking––seas
and within the hour the entrance bar was closed to all
pleasure craft. We wondered when and where we would
get back into an Oregon port. We made it into Yaquina
Bay, Newport, Oregon, without a Coast Guard escort but
at Tillamook Bay, the next day, we gladly accepted their
offer. These small Coast Guard stations are happy to
help small vessels, particularly if they know its your
first approach to their harbor. They frequently ask
you if you would like an escourt across the bar.
The result of all this pushing up
the coast every day with strong breezes on our nose
has allowed us to make up time for our late start. We
have caught up with two larger boats with professionally
skippered that left Dana Point before we did. We have
also passed a 67-foot Ocean Alexander and other boats
that decided to return to port several times or to stay
put for more favorable weather. One large Hatteras which
was pushing to get north 100 miles ahead of us, was
nearly lost and her professional crew rescued by helicopter
after taking a bad pounding off Trinidad Head, losing
all of its forward-facing windows and steering.
Our plan of leaving at or before first
light every day in rugged but slow vessel has paid off
and we are usually tied up in a safe port (or well-sheltered
open roadstead) by early afternoon. We have spent only
one night at sea so far. (We have re-learned a lesson
we knew—that a strong ebb current meeting opposing
swells heap up with little warning.) I made a poor decision
to leave Eureka in predawn on a 3-knot ebb current.
The winds were calm, but in the dark sizeable seas were
running outside which put our Nordhavn on her ear a
few times before we could beat our way offshore. Once
leaving the protection of the jetty where seas were
breaking halfway across, there was no turning back.
It was a foolish mistake which again taught us a good
lesson. The West Coast river bars can be treacherous.
We were so cautious crossing the Columbia River bar
last night and again this morning that we went out of
our way to get the timing of the currents right, and
consequently, with improving weather, experienced a
non-event.
Other than dodging crab pot floats
(we have now snagged 4) and Réanne’s discomfort
with rough water, the trip up the coast has been quite
interesting and relatively easy. We have been able to
get some good photos and collect a storehouse of local
knowledge. Subsequently, our Pacific Coast book–-out
next spring––should be one of our best.
Snowy peaks of the Olympic Peninsula
are visible on the horizon. We’re happy to be
back in the high latitudes with inside waters only a
few days away.
DAY 21 - 25: Monday, June 26 to Friday,
June 30
Greys’ Harbor, north of the
Columbia River, on June 26 was our second stop in Washington.
Like Ilwaco Harbor, half of the slips are empty due
to the decline in fishing. We enjoyed the exhibits of
whale bones at the old Coast Guard Station Museum in
the community. As we worked our way north along the
Olympic Peninsula, we were happy to return to the magnificent
Northwest coastal scenery—isolated rugged rocks,
haystacks topped with tufts of trees, and the snowy
Olympic range as a backdrop.
The night of June 28 we stopped in
tiny LaPush where we had to circle around outside the
entrance for thirty minutes while the Coast Guard rounded
up the Harboumaster and obtained his permission for
us to use the mostly-empty village floats. The floats—new
four years ago—retain a rustic appearance without
any maintenance or facilities. Tucked into the outlet
of a small river and surrounded by islands and rocks,
LaPush has one of the most dramatic settings along the
entire Pacific Coast. Just 8 to 10 pleasurecraft per
month call here during the summer but it is a paradise
for sea kayakers year round. Heavy driftwood of interesting
shapes and sizes lie on the beach, along with native
dugouts below the village school, provide nice photo
opportunities.
The waters north of LaPush require
careful navigation because of dangerous rocks and reefs,
particularly Umatilla reef which extends several miles
offshore. Along this stretch of the coast we sighted
our first puffins. Passing inside Tatoosh Rock we rounded
Cape Flattery and were finally inside Juan de Fuca Strait.
We anchored the night of June 29 in well-protected Neah
Bay, along with two sailboats. Neah Bay has a new marina
run by the tribe, however rates tend to be higher than
those of other commercial marinas along the coast.
With the beginning of smooth waters,
Réanne regained her appetite and enthusiasm for
cruising. A long day’s run from Neah Bay to the
San Juan Islands took us to Watmough Bay close to our
home base in Anacortes where we stayed for 5 days and
from where our grandson returned to Arizona.
The trip from Dana Point to Anacortes
was approximately 1,200 nautical miles. We put 253 hours
on the engine consuming a little more than half our
fuel capacity. The only wear and tear was the need to
tighten a small engine oil gasket and a transmission
oil cooler connection.
The real standouts for the first third
of our shakedown have been the Nordhavn 40’s rugged,
well-designed hull and propulsion system that gave us
great confidence during offshore gales. The Nobeltec
Visual Navigation Suite and Ocean PC flat screen, along
with Furuno DGPS, provided precise positioning information.
These systems are major breakthroughs that make navigating
simple; however we did use our paper charts when 7,500
route marks temporarily overloaded the computer. The
passive paravane stabilizers added a significant amount
of comfort as we bashed into 20- to 40-knot headwinds,
with seas of 16-18 feet. Other than snagging four crab
pot floats off the coast we had no problems with the
system. The paravanes cut severe rolling as much as
75% in cross seas, almost eliminating items from flying
around the cabin and allowing the crew to move about
freely most of the time.
DAY 26 - 29: Saturday, July 1 to Thursday,
July 5
Layover in Anacortes.
DAY 30 - 39: Friday, July 6 to Saturday,
July 15
We left Anacortes late afternoon July
6 and spent the night at Warren and Laurie Miller’s
on Orcas Island. At Nanaimo, our check-in port for Canadian
Customs we loaded up on Don’s favorite Okanagan
port and Nanaimo bars. Passing through Dodd Narrows
on nearing Nanaimo gave us some excitement. We were
attempting to pass a slow-moving boat in the middle
of the narrows at a full 6-knot ebb. The small boat
began weaving dangerously back and forth sideways, and
Don had to use a whirlpool in the turbulence to do a
180-degree turn and wait until the small boat had cleared
the narrows. Our next anchor site was Helmcken Island
in Johnstone Strait. We had a good test of our Proven
Cruising Routes that 16-hour day, averaging better than
6 knots by autopilot in 100 miles. We stopped for a
few hours the next day to visit with friends at Port
Neville then continued in smooth waters to the Walker
Group, 20 miles south of Cape Caution, where we were
surprised to find six other boats anchored. The next
night we renewed our love affair with Kisameet Anchorage
in FitzHugh Sound; the bird calls, the sound of the
small creek and the stillness made it difficult to haul
anchor the next morning.
After a short stop in Bella Bella
to provision and meet with Wilfred Humchitt—executive
director of the Heiltsuk Tribal Council and a tribal
chief from magnificent Roscoe Inlet—we checked
out the new fuel facilities and filtered water system
at Shearwater, then continued to Rescue Bay in Mathieson
Channel where we anchored at twilight. We had fresh
red snapper caught just an hour before by friends aboard
Blue Ice.
At dawn, July 12, we transitted intricate
Jackson Narrows (60-foot wide fairways) on a zero tide
without a problem then spent several hours exploring
the unnamed lagoon behind Wallace Bight. We entered
at high water where we found two great anchor sites.
The extremely narrow entrance shoal carries just one
foot of water at zero tide so this lagoon will not be
overly used! This winter, watch our web site for updates
on this and other new areas. We anchored that night
in Coghlan Anchorage at the south end of Grenville Channel
after a short check on the sad deterioration of Butedale.
Smooth conditions continued all the
way up Grenville Channel and across Chatham Strait into
Prince Rupert, one of our favorite stops for provisioning
and dining out. We were happy to encounter a number
of old friends at the Yacht Club including publisher
Robert Hale and his wife, Marilyn.
We left Rupert at 0500 hours July
14, crossing an unusually benign Dixon Entrance and
arriving at Ketchikan at 1700 hours. On July 15, the
Ketchikan Brewery (its first in 40 years) supplied a
batch of unusually delicious spruce-tip beer for a get-together
on Baidarka of the crews of Sundown, Puffin, and Dixie
III.
DAY 40: Sunday, July 16
It's 0630 hours as we depart Ketchikan
City Floats. We phoned last night to tell the Texaco
dealer at the north end of town that we would need fuel.
They volunteered to open at an hour convenient to us
and we had the fuel dock to ourselves at 0645 with ample
time to check the sight gauges on each tank which still
remain a small mystery to us. The inherent list to the
boat depends on fuel- and water-tank management and
will take time to get used to. However, we do like the
idea of seeing actual fuel levels rather than some remote
secondary indication.
It takes over an hour to fill up on
fuel and water. We took onboard 738 gallons of fuel,
our first since leaving Dana Point California 40 days
earlier. We had 355 elapsed engine hours for a fuel
consumption of 2.08 gallons per hour. Don calculates
that we can easily reach Lituya Bay without refueling—our
trip destination highlight—a distance equivalent
to between a 2400- and 2600-mile-range, enough for most
trans-oceanic routes.
It's good to be back in Alaska, and
all systems are "go" to pick up Herb and Wendy
Nickles (our Webmaster from Deerfield, Massachusetts)
at Gustavus and steel ourselves for one of the most
notorious anchor sites on the Gulf of Alaska: Lituya
Bay.
Lituya Bay is one of the most geologically
active areas and the site of giant tsunamis, tidal waves
that have deforested the shoreline for hundreds of vertical
feet. In 1786, French explorer, La Perouse—the
first European to enter and explore the bay—lost
20 of his men as they tried to cross the bar.
The weather is favorable, so we run
the entire length of Clarence Strait and pull in to
Salmon Bay at the north end of Prince of Wales Island
at 2130 hours. We renew our love for this shallow indentation
that offers welcome shelter, sharing it with a father
and son on a small sport fishing boat.
Earlier in Snow Pass, we stopped to
watch a pair of gray whales patrolling the tidal interface
of the narrows and obviously enjoying the pickings.
DAY 41: Monday, July 17
Up and off to an early start to catch
high water in Rocky Pass—one of our favorite places
in Southeast Alaska. A passage is so much easier now
with the three-dozen navigational aids in place. For
years we saw no boats, now six in one day. The number
of vessels using this labyrinth of islets and narrow,
shallow channels surprises us.
Between Devil's Elbow and The Summit,
for some strange reason our cell phone starts working
after days without any reception, so we drift around
for an hour or two to make a few important phone calls.
We contact the factory rep for Robertson/Simrad in Seattle
because our autopilot has been acting up. He helps us
start trouble shooting the components.
We are able to receive a call from
Deanne and Charles Anderson on Friday's Child—a
53-foot sailboat in Tracy Arm—who want to rendezvous
with us for our attempt on Lituya Bay. We’re happy
to have a big, well-equipped boat join us. Their satellite
phone, weather fax, and other high-tech gear that we
don't have will be welcome in an area void of VHF radio
coverage.
We tuck into Honeydew Cove after maneuvering
through the lovely and intricate Keku Islands. This
pleasant, secure cove has unusual rock formations.
DAY 42: Tuesday, July 18
We awaken to thick fog and are thankful
for Nobeltec, GPS, and radar. However, we find it difficult
to maintain a straight course without the autopilot
which is almost useless now.
We pull in to Warm Springs Bay on
the east side of Baranof Island, along with the beautiful
North Sea Trawler charter yacht, Explorer and are happy
to see our Anacortes friends on Miniship, and to meet
author Mike McConnell and his photographer wife, Mim,
as well as other new boating friends. And, of course,
a soak in the Hot Springs, is the quintessential Alaskan
experience.
DAY 43: Wednesday, July 19
We cruise to Tenakee Hot Springs—another
famous site for hot baths—a small roadless community
where the dress code in the spa reads "No bathing
suits allowed" and women and men have their own
posted hours.
We enjoy a feast of fresh crab aboard
Northern Traveler with new boating friends.
DAY 44: Thursday, July 20
Small craft warnings for Stephens
Passage motivate us to leave Tenakee at dawn. Our daughter,
Dawn Mach, was supposed to join us in Tenakee for the
trip to Gustavus but her flight was cancelled due to
heavy fog. We have an easy trip across Icy Strait and
anchor along the north side of Pleasant Island by early
afternoon. Friday's Child crew joins us and we have
dinner on board their boat.
 DAY
45: Friday, July 21
We pick up our "A" Crew—Herb
and Wendy Nickles—at the Gustavus pier at 0630
hours. (Herb has been on every boat we've owned in the
past 30 years.) Herb and Wendy had airplane connection
problems and didn't receive their luggage in Juneau
until 0230 hours this morning. They were exhausted but
happy to get acquainted with our new research vessel.
After talking by radio with Chuck
Young—Chief Ranger at Glacier Bay National Park—about
our plans, we take the shortcut behind Cape Spencer—our
first pass through on a zero tide—and again find
it a smooth-water route around a normally bumpy cape.
 We
anchor in Murphy Cove in Graves Harbor after charting
a new route inside Graves Rocks. Graves Harbor is within
Glacier National Park on the Gulf of Alaska side. The
Baidarka crew has a "council of war," a discussion
with the Andersons on Friday's Child concerning the
deteriorating weather. We all agree to minimum standards
for trying to cross the bar at Lituya Bay. We plan to
head out the tomorrow at 0500 and get a first-hand reading
outside the harbor while Charlie checks all the weather
faxes and talks with Walt, his weather "guru"
on the East Coast
DAY 46: Saturday, July 22
We call Charlie and Deanna at 0530
and hold "council" on Channel 09. The consensus
is that present conditions outside are marginal. Visibility
in fog and rain is just one mile; winds southeast 15
to 20 knots and increasing wild seas 6 to 8 feet. The
35-mile cruise up the coast to Lituya Bay with no alternative
anchor sites until Yakutat (a 60-mile run to the north
of Lituya) does not sound like a risk anyone wants to
take. The conditions fall at the limits we agreed upon,
so we turn around, return to Graves Harbor and retreat
into Mosquito Cove for a weather layover. All four crew
go back to bed.
Friday's Child comes alongside in
the afternoon to tell us that their interpretation of
the weather faxes is not positive. Their weather router
told them not to go to Lituya Bay for the next six days,
so they are pulling out and heading for Elfin Cove while
they can. [Neither of us knew, at the time, that three
miles from Elfin Cove, they would lose their engine
to a failure of its water pump. Fortunately, they were
able to sail onto the float in Elfin Cove and rejoin
us in Sitka a week later.]
 DAY
47: Sunday, July 23
Baidarka leaves shortly after dawn
for a solo try of Lituya Bay. According to Francis Caldwell,
(Land of the Ocean Mists), the fishermen's formula for
crossing the bar is 1.5 hours after Sitka low tide,
so we have timed our departure accordingly. We are hand-steering
because our autopilot is still inoperative.
(Note: See sidebar story on the right.)
The weather has improved, and we're
thrilled with the sight of the grandiose La Perouse
Glacier which comes to within 50 feet of the Pacific
Ocean for over a mile.
Conditions at Lituya are a "go"
and we fly through the 150-foot-wide fairway on a 3-knot
flood, staying mid-channel by "reading the river"
and staying in the center of the fast water. Range marks
provide essential help for lining up to cross the bar.
 After
carefully circling around, we anchor along the south
shore in case southeast gales, forecast for Thursday,
develop early. For a while, we are the only boat in
the 6-mile-long Lituya Bay. The wild and raw setting
beneath glacier-covered peaks is breathtaking—everything
that's been written about it is true!
We launch the dinghy and spend all
afternoon exploring the three glaciers at the head of
the bay. Only North Crillon glacier remains a saltwater
glacier, and we decide that Chart 16762, issued in 1990,
is based on a 1928 survey. It is totally inadequate
with respect to the changes caused by the 1936 and 1958
tsunamis. We learned just enough to want to return for
several days of serious adventuring.
DAY 48: Monday, July 24
The day dawns with a spectacular tease
of multi-layered clouds, as a series of mountains of
differing levels, fiords and glaciers appear and fade
into the frequent mist of the Mount Fairweather Range.
An unnamed 6000-foot ridgeline rises immediately above
the head of the bay; behind are Mt. La Perouse (12,000
feet), Mt. Lituya and other unnamed peaks that lie in
the shadow of Mt. Fairweather (15,400 feet—the
fourth highest mountain in North America).
We deserve a layover day. The beautiful
unfolding panorama inspires us. For the captain, it
is as stunning as the Patagonian channels.
 The
high-latitude summer sky is never dark, and even at
midnight, the summit of Mt. Fairweather a few miles
due north, is backlighted.
DAY 49: Tuesday, July 25
We leave Lituya Bay at 0800 hours
on a Sitka high tide and are surprised to find the narrows
in slack already, not the thirty-minute delay observed
by fishermen, as reported by the skipper of Lea of Juneau.
With no well-defined stream to indicate the narrow channel
we depend on the range marks behind us and note that
the electronic chart and GPS data seem to be more accurate
than in many other narrow channels of Southeast Alaska.
We scan the horizon a mile or two
ahead, watching for those breaking swells that have
brutally capsized so many pre-history canoes and every
kind of fishing and coastal vessel since La Perouse's
time. Luck is with us and, although the barometer is
down, the seas are essentially flat calm. To increase
our speed, we decide not to use our paravane stabilisers
as we did coming north.
 The
Baidarka crew is happy for the calm seas and under the
spell of Lituya Bay and the Fairweather Range which
Caldwell mentions—each of us trying to assess
what this special place means.
(Note: See sidebar story on the right.)
South of Icy Point we head for the
spectacular arch in Boussole Head for some quick photos.
Trees grow on top of the 95-foot arch and we promise
to come back some day to find out how deep and wide
the water is inside the arch—crossing under the
arch would make a terrific photograph. The entrance
is quite narrow and large rocks guard its south entrance.
No need for us to hide behind Cape
Spencer in Dicks Arm to await proper sea conditions
in Cross Sound, so we choose to follow the outside of
Yakobi Island and scout out the entrances to some fishermen
anchor sites the Andersons described to us. The southeast
winds forecast are not developing with any determination,
so we push on to Mirror Harbor, another favorite on
Chichagof Island with the promise of a layover day to
spend at White Sulphur Hot Springs. We anchor in twilight
and are thankful for such a productive day.
 We
arrive at the tricky dog-leg to highly protected Mirror
Harbor near sunset and find that the bow thruster really
helps us make the tight 90°-turn. We have the anchorage
to ourselves and sleep soundly.
As the barometer continues to fall,
rain and fog close in and visibility decreases to a
spooky hundred yards or so.
DAY 50: Wednesday, July 26
Another calm day with showers greets
us, so Don repairs the small hole in the hard bottom
of the dinghy which we got while exploring Lituya and
North Crillon glaciers. We load our backpacks with Dubonnet
and Scottish shortbread cookies for a long afternoon's
soak in the covered natural pool at White Sulphur Springs.
The hike from West Bay takes 35 minutes each way and
boots are required for the muddy spots. Most of the
trail is built upon raised timbers above the muskeg
terrain and is a wonderful way to visit the interior
of the rain forest.
 Near
highwater in an evening rain squall, Don takes the dinghy
to explore the uncharted sea-level slough east of Mirror
Harbor. He returns at dark, drenched but excited about
the recreational potential of the labyrinth of small,
pristine lagoons in which you can see the sandy bottom
and be totally sheltered. He wants to scout the entrance
that connects with Davidson Bay to determine if this
is a small-boat anchor site. However, since we need
to exit Mirror Harbor at the 7-foot highwater in the
morning, the sea-level slough is added to our future
list of "must-be-explored."
DAY 51 and 52: Thursday, July 27 and
Friday, July 28
Leaving Mirror Harbor and executing
the dogleg, we don't need to use the bow thruster. We
would have liked to try Dry Pass, but with a deeper-draft
boat and insufficient tide level, we decide to pass
west of Hill Island and enter the smooth-water route
to the south via Imperial Passage. In scenic Surveyor
Passage, we explore Black Bay via its narrow, but deep,
north channel. The bay is totally landlocked but a bit
deep for convenient anchorage, except along its margins
or off the mud banks at the head of the bay.
We haven't seen another boat for two
days when we get a call from Friday's Child, two hours
behind us. They describe their engine problems which
they were able to repair in Elfin Cove with parts flown
in by air. We arrange to meet for dinner at the Channel
Club in Sitka on Saturday night.
We're delighted to see that the sea
otter population in Ogden Passage is still going strong
and we wish we could spend more time here. We stop for
a couple of hours to look for an abandoned Indian village
but find little other than trails and several iron pot-bellied
stoves and a modern tumbled down shack.
 In
the long twilight we decide to look for a place to anchor
in Piehle Passage below Khaz Head. The anchorage turns
out to be quite smooth in the moderate southeast wind
and, during the night as the front passes through, we
get only inconsequential gusts. We let out 200 feet
of chain and holding is good at 9 fathoms. At 0500,
on a negative tide, Don wakes everyone. We're too close
to the north shore, so we haul up anchor and reset it
closer to the south shore; we let out 300 feet, set
a second small snubber on the chain and go back to bed.
We're awakened two hours later by a noise that sounds
like a dinghy has run into us. Don races to the foredeck
to discover that the small snubber is completely missing.
It uncleated itself and flew off the chain. We have
no explanation for this, unless something the size of
large sea mammal such as an Orca or a whale got caught
in the 16-foot loop of chain on the main snubber and
darted off partially entangled.
South of Piehle Passage we have two
hours of bumpy southwest seas in the open Gulf of Alaska
and decide to duck into Kalinin Bay as 10 other vessels
have done. We clean up the boat and prepare for our
re-entry into civilization in Sitka Saturday noon. Our
trusted crew, Herb and Wendy will fly home. We pick
up Jean and Joel Gillingwators, long-time friends from
Upland, California as we complete our northerly leg
and start south.
Two-thirds of our 4,000-mile shakedown
cruise is now behind us and other than our autopilot,
all systems have been functioning flawlessly. Réanne
and I are used to cruising on a tight schedule and,
while we look forward to a less challenging "downhill"
run south, we are quite amazed at how easy the overall
trip has been with our new Baidarka.
DAY 53: Saturday, July 29
We arrive at Sitka with our sight
gages still reading full all the way from Ketchikan.
We have now accumulated 443 engine hours since leaving
Dana Point, California, without missing a beat. We've
put 22 hours on the gen-set and the Furuno radar has
been in standby mode 50 hours, transmitting 49 hours.
DAY 54 and 55: Sunday, July 30 and
Monday, July 31
We work on Baidarka's autopilot and
spend most of Monday going around in circles attempting
to calibrate the system. The technician from Sitka electronics
lab is critical of the flux-gate compass operation and
installation and tells us he can't do any more for us
without starting from scratch. The unit appears to hold
a course in the auto mode, but won't work in the navigation
mode, and the headings drift. We opt to go exploring
and leave Sitka southbound at 15:30. We thread our way
through the beautiful archipelago of hundreds of small
islands that give protection on the first leg of the
way toward Cape Ommaney.
With the help of local knowledge that
we received from Ken Helem in Sitka, we thread our way
through the critical dogleg, immediately east of a cubic-shaped
rock, into Kliuchevoi Bay on the north side of Goddard
Hot Springs. We find excellent shelter in 3 fathoms,
mud bottom with good holding, northwest of some old
cabins on shore.
DAY 56: Tuesday, August 1
We spend all morning having a good
soak in the new tub that replaced the westerly tub that
burned down recently. Joel and Don scout out the trails
and beach campsites for a future edition of the Southeast
Alaska book. After having shown Scott and Debra on S/V
Rambling Rose the way into Kliuchevoi, we have a nice
visit and learn that they're going to settle in Southeast.
We continue southward in late afternoon and anchor in
Scow Bay—one of our favorites along this coast.
DAY 57: Wednesday, August 2
The Gulf of Alaska proves clear and
calm, so we continue down the west coast of Baranof
Island to Réanne's Terror. Once again, we find
foam across the north entrance, but after assuring ourselves
that it was just swells breaking on the island and bluff,
we scoot in and anchor in Réanne's Relief. South
of Rakof Islands, there are no more navigational aids
before Cape Ommaney and few signs of man's intrusion.
We enjoy the high peaks surrounding Réanne's
Relief and are happy that the area has been included
in the wilderness.
DAY 58: Thursday, August 3
South of Réanne's Terror we
sight spouting whales and a number or puffins. North
of Cape Ommaney, the swells pick up, affecting our new
crew members so we deploy the paravanes, then duck into
Port Alexander in Chatham Strait to get some relief.
We note that—since our last visit—the town
has made an effort to improve its welcome of visiting
boats; it has also installed a water filtration system.
We were happy to have a visit with our friends Sonny
and Starla of Osprey.
With a freshening wind blowing between
Cape Ommaney and Cape Decision, we elect to leave Port
Alexander at 1300 hours and head across Chatham Strait
to Sumner Strait. Within an hour, strong southwest winds,
6-foot chop and fog hit. We again deploy the paravanes
and slow our speed to prepare for a radar transit of
narrow Decision Passage where there are strong currents
and many drift logs. We manage to avoid the large logs,
but hit three smaller logs—8 inches in diameter
and 10 feet long which must now have blue bottom paint
on them.
Rounding Cape Decision, we head north
into Affleck Canal and find near-perfect protection
in the southwest corner of Kell Bay. The southern portions
of both Baranof and Kuiu islands which are seldom visited
by pleasure vessels, abound in solitude. With calm conditions,
Jean has provided us with gourmet meals.
Again, with calm seas, we try to unravel
the mystery of the autopilot—but without success.
The crew concludes that the user booklet was written
by idiots who have never tried to follow their own directions.
DAY 59: Friday, August 4
Reluctantly, we leave Kell Bay, but
we enjoy the sight of more whales as we cross to Shakan
Strait. We anchor inside Entrance Cove at the north
end of El Capitan Passage. We were disturbed to see
that the huge loading facilities for the limestone quarry
have completely destroyed once-lovely Marble Creek Cove.
DAY 60: Saturday, August 5
We transit El Capitan Passage—a
beautiful smooth-water route on the west side of Prince
of Wales Island. We tie up at the small Forest Service
float below the entrance to El Capitan Cave. West of
the float Baidarka bounced across what is supposed to
a one-fathom shoal, but which is more like a one-FOOT
shoal! Our bow crew noted that visibility through the
water is only about two feet. The chagrined skipper
was scouting out the situation at the float with the
binoculars and will note Baidarka Shoal with a diagram
in our next edition.
We enjoyed a two-hour tour and climb
through wild El Capitan Cave—Alaska's largest
cave system. You cannot help from being inspired by
this place. It is a formation of limestone known as
Karst which is also found on Dall and Long islands and
has over 12,000 feet mapped to date and many, many more
feet to be mapped. Archeologists have discovered indications
of human habitation dating back 10,000 years, and this
region promises to be a center of intense exploration
in the coming decades. Fortunately, a strenuous climb
of 370 wooden steps will prevent this wild cave from
ever becoming a Disney attraction. The hard hats provided
by the USFS guide are a must.
DAY 61: Sunday, August 6
We stop for lunch in Bob's Place and
watch a black bear turning rocks in search of crustaceans.
We anchor in Garcia Cove at San Fernando Island. Joel
and Don work on a new diagram for this good anchor site
which has been poorly charted.
Outside the cove, we sight blowing
humpback whales and harbor porpoises. Inside, ravens
chortle while we try to determine where all the rocks
are located.
DAY 62: Monday, August 7
Michael Kampnich—Craig harbormaster
and author of the piece on page 463 in our Southeast
book—greets us as we dock behind Friday's Child.
We're delighted to learn from Mike that pleasure craft
calls have increased from almost zero five years ago
to several per day during the summer season. Craig is
a community of welcoming individuals and we enjoy our
visit, stocking up on smoked salmon from Klawock and
visiting the totem park.
DAY 63: Tuesday, August 8
Joel and Jean catch a flight to Ketchikan
in the morning. Don works with Charlie Anderson trying
to figure out the autopilot problems with several more
phone calls to Simrad in Seattle.
DAY 64: Wednesday, August 9
We try the latest recommended experiments
with the autopilot, give up in exasperation and decide
that we will take the flux-gate compass and motherboard
back to Seattle when we fly home from Prince Rupert.
Réanne interviews septuagenarians, Bob and Joyce
Brown, handicapped boaters from Seattle who have been
cruising in Alaskan waters for several decades.
We head for Dall Island's west coast
to further explore Diver's Cove and spend the night
in another classic anchor site: Hole-in-the-Wall.
DAY 65: Thursday, August 10
This morning we find the Gulf of Alaska
waters and Meares Passage kicking up and making visibility
poor. We also discover that our Raytheon VHF 210 has
stopped functioning so, with the prospect of trying
to transit Cape Muzon in foul weather without an autopilot
or VHF, we decide to return to Tlevak Narrows and continue
south in Tlevak Strait. The weather in these protected
waters is calm, and we overtake and pass within 100
feet of a whale that doesn’t move an inch on our
approach.
Dall Island is poorly charted and
extra caution is required. Don surveys the east arm
of Reef Island Inlet so we can add a diagram that shows
how to enter this tight waterway; we also check out
Windy Bay with its tricky entrance. Late in the afternoon,
we witness the best demonstration of mating whales we've
ever seen—continuous flapping of fins, spy hopping,
somersaults, etc. that continued for an hour. This is
truly a spectacular event in the natural world.
We drop anchor in Elbow Bay, along
with Bagan—a 57-foot Nordhavn—and Friday's
Child. In the evening we kayak around the bay with the
Bagan crew.
DAY 66: Friday, August 11
Friday's Child reports to us that
their weather analysis looks good for crossing Dixon
Entrance, so we all leave at 0500 hours. We put our
electronic charting to good use as we transit the short
cut through Egg Passage and find ourselves off Point
March at 0735 hours. Friday's Child heads for Banks
Island and Hecate Strait, while we turn east to the
south end of Dundas Island where we anchor in tiny Edith
Harbour at 1700 hours.
DAY 67: Saturday , August 12
We elect to take a layover here to
be able to dismantle the autopilot parts and the VHF
radio. Fortunately, we have two VHF hand-held radios
that allow us to start picking up Canadian weather reports
near Celestial Reefs.
DAY 68: Sunday, August 13
Leaving Edith Harbour in pre-dawn
light, Don got excited about taking a photo of a fishing
boat anchored in the center of the entrance fairway.
In attempting to pass behind the boat, Don forgot that
we had our paravane poles down. The tip of our poles
made contact with the fishing boat's poles, turning
us slowly toward them and nearly colliding. It was a
rude awakening for the fishing boat’s naked crew
who came running up on deck. After verifying that no
damage had occurred, our intrepid skipper apologized
profusely and we continued across Chatham Strait, through
the intricate Maurelle Islands to Prince Rupert.
DAY 69 – 77: Monday, August
14 to Tuesday, August 22
We flew home to Anacortes via Vancouver
carrying our non-functioning equipment, and leaving
Baidarka at the Prince Rupert Yacht Club (engine hours
to date 522 hours). We were happy to meet several couples
at our Seattle Boat show presentations who had been
following the description of our 4,000-mile shake-down
cruise on our website.
DAY 78-79: Return to Prince Rupert
and layover
DAY 80: Friday, August 25
Moored to one of the six buoys in
Larsen Harbor on the northwestern tip of Banks Island,
we are waiting for a southerly gale to blow itself out
before we cross Hecate Strait to the Queen Charlotte
Islands. Banks Island—named after Botanist Joseph
Banks who accompanied Cook on his round-the-world voyage
in 1768-1771—lies between Hecate Strait and Principe
Channel. The coastline along Hecate Strait has few surveyed
anchorages, and even Larsen Harbor with its kelp-encumbered
entrance looks daunting. However, inside Larsen, surrounded
by low-lying, treed islets, protection is good.
Our frenetic schedule this summer
has given us very few layover days and we're taking
advantage of the time to read, work on the computer
and re-organize gear hurriedly stashed away on our return
to Prince Rupert from the Seattle Boat Show at Shilshole
Marina. Our schedule has also prevented us from adding
any personal comments to the Baidarka log we've sent
to the Fine Edge web, so I (first mate) am taking the
time now to add a few comments of my own.
Last week, I was explaining to a friend
(a professional delivery skipper) that our autopilot
had quit functioning. He laughed and said, "My
dear, I've had to hand-steer on many deliveries. . ."
No sympathy from him!
When I hung up the phone, I realized
that most of our readers probably feel the same. Why
is an autopilot so important to us? Our previous 32-foot
Nordic Tug didn't have one. Why should we make a big
deal of not being able to use it?
Why? Because this is a new heavier
boat and when a piece of new equipment fails it's frustrating,
it's disappointing, it's time-consuming. Don spent hours
and hours on the phone with the technical experts at
Simrad in Seattle (at cell phone roaming charges from
Alaska and Northern B.C.); he and our friend Charlie
Anderson from Friday's Child, an electronic expert,
spent hours trying to determine the problem, and Don
and I, together, spent hours trying to figure out, then
dismantle the system—some of the time in rolling
seas!
Why? Because when it's calm, I need
to be able to work on the computer—to be able
to update our information and add new data as we do
our research. When I'm on the computer, the autopilot
allows Don to take my watch without becoming exhausted.
And because, frankly, we're getting
older—we have to admit it; it's more difficult
for the two of us to handle a much heavier boat than
it was to handle a boat eight feet shorter!
What was the problem with the autopilot?—it
was the flux-gate compass installed by an Orange County
firm. A flux-gate compass works on the horizontal component
of the magnetic flux lines that circle the globe. Over
most of the world, the magnetic field is horizontal
to the earth's surface, but as you near either the north
magnetic pole (located in Northern Canada, near Baffin
Bay) or the south magnetic pole (in Antarctica, southwest
of Cape Horn), the magnetic force becomes nearly vertical.
M. W. Freeman—an autopilot expert—noted
in 1978 that this magnetic force-line, commonly called
Northern Turning Error (in the Northern Hemisphere)
and Southerly Turning Error (in the Southern Hemisphere),
increases with latitude. In Egersund, Norway, Latitude
58°N—the same latitude as Juneau, Alaska—two-thirds
of the magnetic force-lines are made up of vertical
components which means that a flux-gate compass has
much less sensitivity to heading changes as you go toward
a magnetic pole.
During our circumnavigation of South
America in our 42-foot sailboat, Le Dauphin Amical,
Don and I noticed how difficult it was to steer toward
Cape Horn because our main compass card tipped about
45 degrees and responded very sluggishly.
Before purchasing our Nordhavn, we
had heard that, in order to compensate for this effect,
we should install a rate-compass which partially overcomes
the dip-angle problem. (A rate compass has sophisticated
acceleration circuitry and increased damped response.
In large vessels and aircraft, a gyro-compass is used
to overcome these problems of high latitude.) However,
the Orange County firm dismissed our need for a rate-compass,
telling us that they never installed them and that we
didn't need one—despite the fact that we explained
we use our boat for research almost exclusively in high
latitudes and needed a system we could rely on. Orange
County (Latitude 33°N) is a far cry from 60°N,
and the advice we took from this firm was an expensive
lesson in wasted time, energy and money.
Over the last six weeks, we've talked
with electronic technicians who install autopilots for
the fishing fleets all the way from Anacortes and Bellingham,
Washington, to Prince Rupert, B.C. and Petersburg and
Sitka, Alaska. They have assured us that the standard
flux-gate compass is a poor choice and bound to cause
the problems we experienced as we approached Dixon Entrance
and continued north in Southeast Alaska. Talk with these
people if you plan to spend much time in high latitudes.
One of the problems we noticed as
we headed north was that, every time the fresh-water
pressure pump went on, the autopilot veered more than
15 degrees to the east. Simrad's head-technician in
Seattle examined the flux-gate compass and motherboard,
which we returned for checking, and quickly determined
that there had been several problems with the initial
installation: 1. That the flux-gate was not mounted
in an appropriate area of the boat, free of magnetic
interference. 2. That the flux-gate compass-shield and
motherboard grounding system had not been connected
to the ship's grounding system. 3. That our high-latitude
usage (compounded by using Nobeltec to dynamically drive
the boat) required a more sophisticated and damped compass
than the standard flux-gate compass.
Boyd, of Sontronics in Prince Rupert,
spent a day searching for the proper place to install
the rate-compass and going through the calibration procedure—again
and, this time successfully it appears. After leaving
Prince Rupert we are happy to note that the system followed
Don's route from PR to Principe Channel following the
preset courses in Kevin Monahan's Proven Cruising Routes
from Seattle to Ketchikan.
Jim Leishman at Nordhavn says that
having an autopilot problem is similar to having serious
crew problems. He contacted Sontronics on our behalf
and they did a yeoman's job of completing the installation.
We want to thank Simrad Seattle, also, for taking our
calls and for working with us on a tight time schedule
to resolve this problem.
The problem with our Raytheon VHF
210 turned out to be a poorly soldered joint in the
power supply. They repaired the problem quickly, in
time for our return to Prince Rupert.
The good news is that we've apparently
solved our autopilot and electronic navigation problems.
The bad new is that, in scouting out anchorages in Beaver
Channel and in entering Larsen Harbour on a strong southeasterly,
Baidarka's GPS position on electronic Chart 3747 put
us a few hundred feet west of our actual position. It
turns out that many West Coast charts such as #3747
were surveyed prior to the adoption of the NAD 27 horizontal
datum and, in this case, our paper chart corrected with
Notice to Mariners through 1993 does not indicate any
horizontal datum. We found that, with our GPS set for
NAD 83, our track into Larsen Harbor crossed all the
rocks and islets west of the entrance light, rather
than the fairway we traversed visually. When we changed
our GPS to NAD 27 it seem to correct some of the error,
but it still doesn't read correctly to us. Very puzzling!
Once again we note the limits of the new GPS and Electronic
Charting. As wonderful as these systems are, they now
exceed the accuracy of many of the older charts (and
some new ones as well) so beware. Always be ready to
use your own judgement and quickly take the helm any
time things don't look correct out the pilothouse window.
Older charts for the Queen Charlotte
Islands do not have any reference for Horizontal Datum,
either. Not having cell phone coverage from this area,
we are unable to check with Kevin Monahan, our GPS expert,
or the Canadian Hydrographic Service. Once again, this
demonstrates that, in a poorly charted or unsurveyed
area, you should take nothing for granted. Use a good
pair of binoculars and good judgment!
Captain's note 9/27/00: I contacted
MDI Digital Ocean chart office and they verified that
chart #3747 had an improper offset in the first version
of the electronic chart and subsequent versions will
be correct.
DAY 81: Saturday, August 26 —
Griffth Harbor (layover day)
(By the Skipper) It may well be that
the North Pacific high-pressure weather system is breaking
down a few weeks early this year; it seems a series
of low pressure fronts are stacked up west of Queen
Charlotte Islands. We have taken another layover day
and decide to explore Griffth Harbor the intricate archipelago
of hundreds of islets and rocks called the Borrowman
Group northeast of Bonilla Island. There is a high-water,
small-boat passage from Larsen Harbor that leads between
Banks and Larsen islands, and we find that it dries
on a 6-foot tide and that, with the 14 foot spring tides
we are enjoying, we have several hours to cross in our
dinghy before we are high and dry.
This is a primitive area with no trace
of human-kind, past or present. We made it as far south
as Paralane Islets which have tons of driftwood and
storm-swept, south-facing rocks. We note once again
that it doesn't take much of a lee to provide protection
to small boats from the strong winds blowing outside.
It looks like any number of small unnamed coves formed
between the islets could provide anchor sites; however,
entering from Hecate Strait and avoiding the many charted
and uncharted rocks would require masterful navigation
or uncanny luck. The west coast of Banks Island, as
well as all the other major outside islands from Dixon
Entrance to Vancouver Island, are an explorers dream
and a sloppy navigator's nightmare.
DAY 83: Monday, August 28
Yesterday (Sunday August 27) the weather
was beautiful, and we made it from Larsen Harbour to
Geodetic Cove on Trutch Island down Principe Channel.
We expected to leave this morning and transit Meyers
Passage at high tide at 1400 hours. But the low-pressure
systems hit regularly and, during the night, a southerly
kicked up, rain pelted Baidarka, and this morning Estevan
Sound looked like a minefield of whitecaps heading north.
Across the sound, Campañia Island faded in and
out of sight. Neither of us had the desire to pound
into these seas for 45 miles. So we didn't. We had another
layover day, I made coffee-cake, did laundry, we worked
on the boat and read. Don has been catching up on a
year's deprivation of book-reading: Ice Blink; Lost
at Sea; Nights of Ice; the Riddle of the Ice. He finds
that his latest—Hungry Ocean by Linda Greenlaw
of Perfect Storm fame–has some of the best descriptions
of a skipper's responsibilities. He identifies with
Skipper Greenlaw. Good thing she's on the East Coast—I'd
have big competition!
Of the twenty books we brought aboard
at Dana Point, our schedule was too tight to allow reading
time until we left Sitka–with one exception: Francis
E. Caldwell's, Land of the Ocean Mists about Lituya
Bay and the Mount Fairweather Coast—which Herb,
Wendy, Don, and I each read—fascinated—before
we reached Lituya.
This is my kind of cruising but, frankly,
I think the captain's rather bored, although he's not
letting on!
DAY 83: Monday, August 28 (continued)
Back to Geodetic Cove to cover a few
details we didn't have time to mention. Geodetic—a
narrow slit in Trutch Island approximately a half-mile
long and 100 yards wide—faces north onto Estevan
Sound. Old growth evergreens hang low along the shore.
A family of river otters plays in the water along the
rocky crevices where they live. The resident kingfisher
flies from tree to tree, scolding sharply. Balls of
foam float out of the cove toward the sound from a year-round
creek that empties into the cove; the air smells earthy.
Studying Chart 3742, you wouldn't
think any boat could find protection in this slot. With
virtually no depth information on the chart, it's enough
to discourage even the most intrepid boater. However,
it's perfectly protected from southerlies like we've
been having today. We barely even feel the wake of the
cruise ships heading to and from Juneau in Estevan Channel.
We can't imagine this cove will ever become a popular
stop for pleasure craft, but just in case . . . there's
room for about two small boats in the inner basin. Vessels
longer than 35 feet may want to stay in the outer basin,
north of the one-fathom shoal in the narrows. To restrict
swinging room, it might be a good idea to use a stern
to shore. (We didn't use a shore tie because the wind
and small creek kept us facing south most of the time.)
See sidebar on left.
DAY 85: Tuesday, August 29
(Yes, we discovered a discrepancy
in our numbering.)
Anchor up, we head out of Geodetic
Cove into Estevan Sound southbound in solid fog, using
radar, with visibility no more than 100 feet. All we
can see are patches of kelp, but the sound is flat and
glassy.
An hour or so later, half way across
the sound, we leave shrouded Trutch Island and find
sun. The world beyond the bow is green and grey and
silver and blue.
In Laredo Channel we encounter three
northbound cruise ships within four hours, but still
no recreational cruising boats. We notice that many
of the cruise ships now avoid Grenville Channel which;
good news for the smaller pleasure craft that depend
on the narrow, more direct channel.
We transit the shoals in Meyers Passage
without a hitch. Princess Royal Island lies on the north
side of Meyers; Swindle Island to the south. Approaching
from west, you have a view of the ridge of beautiful
cone-shaped peaks that rise to over 2,000 feet where
Swindle Island makes its L-shaped curve to the north.
What a treat to have a sunny day!
We recheck our data on "Meyers
Narrows Cove" where there is very little current
and agree that it is the best storm anchorage in the
vicinity.
We turn north and, at 1810 hours,
head into Alexander Inlet. Although poorly charted,
the inlet is definitely worth visiting. Spectacular
granite peaks rise from the water, their vertical or
overhanging faces bear tiny trees and plants that struggle
for life. No evidence of logging is visible here; it's
lovely and unspoiled. We chart the depths through Bingham
Narrows and find 4 1/2 fathoms minimum, 40 feet off
the west wall on a one-foot tide. The rest of the channel
is choked with a dangerous and uncharted submerged reef.
This reef nearly closes the channel at low water.
Within an hour we anchor at the head
of the inlet in 5 fathoms. The stream from a fresh-water
lake flows into the head of the inlet. The air is permeated
by an earthy, decaying scent.
DAY 86: Wednesday, August 30
Under overcast skies, we leave Alexander
Inlet and head south down Finlayson and then Milbanke
Sound to Seaforth Channel. At the Boat Bluff Light Station
we watch the Coast Guard unload gear and building materials
from a long boat while the "Bartlett" stands
by outside at the tip of Sarah Island.
Rolling is minimal in Milbanke Sound,
so we don't bother to deploy the stabilizers. By the
time we're inside Seaforth Channel, the seas are building
and we have gentle rollers pushing us eastward from
astern. It's 1820 when we tie up at the Shearwater dock,
just in time to give the first mate a dinner leave.
Engine hours now read 562.9.
DAY 87: Thursday, August 31
We leave Shearwater at a leisurely
1055 hours to catch high water in Gunboat Passage, managing
to tie up in Ocean Falls by 1505 in time for a walk
around town and a visit with local friends and boaters.
We're happy to report that half of the old paper mill
is being cleaned and repainted for occupancy of possible
new businesses and that a new trail along the Martin
River is in the offing.
DAY 88: Friday, September 1
We pack a lunch and head off on mountain
bikes provided by Jo-Anne and Don of The Shack. Our
goal is to bicycle the 20-mile round trip to and from
Shack Bay (no reference to the previously-mentioned
business!) on Roscoe Inlet. Pavement ends at the south
end of Martin Valley and from there it's a body-jarring
ride on a 4-WD dirt road paved with rocks and stones.
Blobs of bear scat in the center of the road occur about
every twenty yards for the first three miles, causing
us to make lots of noise. About two miles south of Martin
Valley, the road turns northwest and follows the shores
of what are locally known as Twin Lakes (Ikt and Mokst
lakes on a topo map). We make it to the second of the
two lakes after noon, find a clearing on shore and break
out our sausage, cheese and biscuits. No man-made sound
destroys the quiet. The sun shows itself momentarily.
We've hit the perfect day, but our desire to continue
for three miles on this road has waned. We decide to
turn around and head back and make it a 14-mile round
trip, instead.
I've been cycling on what we begin
to refer to as a tricycle—too small for my long
legs, my knees practically under my chin as the pedal
tops. "Would you give me a turn on your bike, just
so I can remember what it's like on a normal bike?"
I ask Don.
He relinquishes his bicycle for the
rest of the return trip and I take off, flying, happy
to be cycling for the first time in over a year. We
return the bikes to The Shack, buy a double ice cream
cone, pick up the bread Jo-Anne set aside for us and
head back to the boat. Don hits the sack at 1800 hours
and sleeps through a raucous three-hour visit with Jo-Anne
and Don and Serge and Kathy from Raison d'Etre. I call
it quits at 2300 hours and just as I'm dozing off there's
a knocking on the boat . . . See sidebar - Medical Emergency
in Ocean Falls.
DAY 89: Saturday, September 2
Ocean Falls to Duncanby Landing. [See
Sidebar for early morning details.] With the ebb current
we make good time down Fisher Channel and Fitz Hugh
Sound and head up Darby Channel by late afternoon. In
the lee of Walbran Island, Darby Channel is well protected
from southeast winds. Lack of debris, tree limbs that
hang straight out over the saltwater at high tide and
clear green quiet water make this channel a nice alternative
for reaching upper Rivers Inlet. We visit a notch in
what locals call Beaver Cove to update the files for
the second edition of our Exploring the North Coast
of British Columbia. Although its east shore was clearcut
years ago and ugly scars still remain, the buffer along
shore hides the evidence once you're anchored inside
the cove. The air is perfumed with the scent of evergreens.
This is a perfect spot to wait out any storm.
In between his customers, we visit
with Rob at Dawson's Landing and are happy to be able
to load up on some fresh tomatoes, lettuce and milk.
At 1950 we tie up for the night at
Duncanby Landing and, over a glass of wine in the pub,
catch up on the news with owner Ken Gillis. Niki Verzuh
who ran a B & B in Bella Bella for several years
has been chief cook for the pub all summer. She gives
me a taste of her clam fritters and salmon rolls-ups
and wraps a couple of them for us to take along. I freeze
them to save for hors d'oeuvre later. (Watch for the
recipe in the second edition of North Coast!)
With the downturn in commercial fishing,
Ken is catering increasingly to transit yachts and this
friendly place is the first fuel stop north of Cape
Caution. (Since Dawsons also has fuel, these two places
make the Rivers Inlet area convenient for small vessels
and gas guzzlers that can't make it to Bella Bella or
Shearwater before refueling.) Duncanby's proximity to
Fury Cove on Penrose Island, to the many small islands
at the entrance to Rivers Inlet, and to Goose Bay, with
its wonderful variety of birds, make the area a real
draw for pleasure craft and kayak exploration. It's
the Central Coast's equivalent of Vancouver Island's
Broken Group and, except for small fishing runabouts
that zip out to the sound in early morning and return
in early evening to their lodges, the area has little
traffic.
DAY 90: Sunday, September 3
A touch of autumn crispness causes
me to pull on my fleece pants for the first time since
the Gulf of Alaska. Nature has been good to us for the
past four days. We leave Duncanby at 0720 in clear weather
and hit Slingsby Channel in rare, smooth waters. As
we head down Queen Charlotte Sound, we spot a ketch
heading the same way.
"That might be Raison d'Etre,"
I tell Don. "I'll call on Channel 16 and see if
it is."
Kathy answers my call and we switch
channels. She tells us that they got prompt help in
Bella Bella and that Serge has a figure-8 bandage keeping
his shoulders pinned back and aligned so the broken
bones don't rub. With regular doses of Tylenol 3, he's
been doing pretty well.
We tell them we're headed for Blunden
Harbour for the night; they are, too, and we decide
it would be fun to get together for happy hour once
we're anchored.
By 1535, our two boats are anchored,
along with three others. The shore of Blunden Harbour,
once the site of a thriving First Nations village, has
perhaps been overly visited by boaters. A new sign on
shore reads "No Trespassing. This is the traditional
territory of the Nakwaxdaxw People. It is regularly
monitored by guardians. No camping or digging."
Kathy and Serge motor over to Baidarka
in their dinghy and Serge comes aboard without too much
discomfort. We spend the next five hours catching up
on news, hearing about their sailing experiences in
the South Pacific for the past three years (they sailed
from Hawaii to Alaska this summer), and comparing cruising
notes. Happy hour runs into dinner: Kathy and Serge's
homemade spaghetti sauce, canned on board, and a joint-effort
tossed salad. Great fun.
Kathy told me she bought my book Cape
Horn: One Man's Dream, One Woman's Nighmare for Serge
expressly to discourage him from going to Patagonia.
"Well, did it work?" I ask her. "No.
Reading your book made him want to go more than ever."
DAY 91: Monday, September 4
Up and away from Blunden by 0800 and
into flat Blackfish Sound and Johnstone Strait. We have
been lucky! The weather reports keep warning of a low-pressure
system heading south from the Gulf of Alaska and we
keep saying, it's the calm before the storm. So far,
we've managed to stay ahead of forecast "first
major gale" of the autumn season.
We had planned to spend several days
in Port Neville visiting friends and working on the
computer. However, with the storm forecast for tomorrow,
we decided to push on to Helmcken Island "North
Cove" and try to remain ahead of the low.
I'm at the helm as we near Kelsey
Bay, and I do regular and frequent checks to be sure
there's no traffic behind us. Suddenly, I see a mega-yacht
(vessel shall remain nameless), coming up on our stern,
hell-bent at full speed. Before I took over the helm,
I set the table in preparation for dinner on our arrival
at Helmcken Island. Potatoes were simmering in a pot
on the stove, and a bowl of salad was sitting on the
galley counter. Traffic has been minimal so far, and
the strait so calm, that I figured there was no need
to secure everything.
"Don, take over the helm,"
I yell. Got to get stuffed stowed. Look at this idiot
to starboard!" He jumps down from the pilot berth,
his nap rudely interrupted, and I rush below. Too late.
A Seattle mega-yacht passes 150 feet to our starboard,
without slowing one rpm. Its wake sends 5-foot waves
crashing across our stern, and I watch, too late, as
our dinner flies across the salon. Books that didn't
budge in 15-foot gale seas along the coast of California
and Oregon spew out of the bookcase.
I'm livid. Earlier in the afternoon
I heard a radio conversation between this skipper and
another vessel and knew that he was a professional skipper.
I'm astonished that anyone with that lack of courtesy
can qualify as "professional." The owner,
as it turns out, was on the flying bridge at the time,
but was oblivious to the behavior of the amateur he
hired to pilot his yacht.
I have the urge to call him on the
radio and sarcastically thank him for being so "courteous."
I have the urge to report him to the Coast guard. I
have the urge to report him to the company that he works
for in the winter. But I don't. I just stew in my own
anger.
Fifteen minutes later, we see him
backing out of Kelsey Bay. Obviously he hasn't read
the available source books--the harbor was too small
and had no fuel available.
DAY 92: Tuesday, September 5
We get an early start before dawn
to be able to catch slack tide at Seymour Narrows. By
0750, we're off Ripple Point and before 1100 hours we
"sail" through Seymour and ride the rapids
on the south side of Ripple Rock. "Why don't we
forego Campbell River?" Don says. "We've got
a six-knot current with us. What do you say to spending
the night in Comox?"
"Sounds fine to me."
By mid-afternoon we decide to forego
Comox. We're still ahead of the 982 millibar low that's
been heading south from the Gulf of Alaska, and we want
to keep it that way. We decide that it's too late to
try and make Nanaimo tonight so, instead, we head for
Nuttal Bay where we set anchor for the night at 1950
hours.
DAY 93: Wednesday, September 6
We have a lazy morning before raising
anchor and leaving for Nanaimo where we dock by 1330.
Time to do laundry, re-provision and visit with friends
on the dock whom we've seen earlier in the season.
We have dinner with Carol and Winston
Bushnell and Winston's sister Judy. (Winston was the
skipper of Dove III of Arctic Odyssey). Winston and
Carol have the most amazing stories to tell of their
around-the-world-cruising. We share the dubious distinction
of having survived a pitchpole. However, their disaster
occurred in the southern Indian Ocean with their two
young daughters aboard. They managed to jury rig their
sailboat and limp into Cape Town where it took Winston
six months to make repairs. Their story needs to told,
and we keep urging Winston to record their experiences.
But he's forever off on a new project; the latest—his
eighth sailboat—is a 36-foot steel hull so he
and Carol can take off in a year on another cruise.
DAY 94: Thursday, September 7
We leave Nanaimo at 1210 with the
rest of "the fleet" that wants to catch slack
tide in Dodd Narrows. Within twenty-five minutes we
hear a staticky May Day on Channel 16 from Comox Coast
Guard. We barely catch the name Beverly K, the name
of a boat that was tied up across from us yesterday.
See sidebar - The Sea Dictates its Own Terms.
The gale we've been outrunning has
finally reached the South Coast. The barometer which
dropped 10 millibars during the night continues to descend
and, once through Dodd Narrows, the predicted southeasterly
hits us directly on the nose. The oncoming-fetch up
Trincomali Channel causes pitching and bouncing, and
some of the boats immediately head off for nearby shelter.
These are the first bumpy seas we've experienced since
Principe Channel. We pass a small motor vessel, admiring
its classic lines, then notice it falling directly in
behind our stern.
Immediately afterward we get a call
from Derrick on M/V MyJo and switch to Channel 09.
"This chop is too much for me.
I'm taking on some water when my hatch flies open. I
can barely make headway. Do you mind if I draft? And
where are you headed for the night?"
Don tells him we're heading for Montague
Harbor, about three hours away, and directly into the
wind.
Derrick is single-handling. His forward
hatch has opened twice in this rough water and MyJo
is taking on heavy spray. We agree to his drafting us
and, following about 50 feet behind us, things calm
down considerably for MyJo.
We continue to Montague, making between
4.5 and 5.5 knots without any problems. By 1713 hours,
both boats are safely anchored in the lee of Galiano
Island, and Derrick rows over for a visit. Here, near
the end of our shakedown cruise, with 25-knot winds
on our nose, the three of us are happy at how well Baidarka
handled the chop.
DAY 95: Friday, September 8
When we leave Montague at 0655, the
barometer registers 1002 millibars—its lowest
to date. Are we in for a rough crossing of Boundary
Pass? No, the worst has passed. We’re at the tail
end of the low-pressure front and find just a minimum
of residual chop in Boundary Pass. A nice thing about
the Inside Passage is how quickly the surface calms
down with these thousands of islands, rocks and quick-flowing
current.
Earlier this morning, as we left Montague
Harbour in the dim light, we passed a beautiful old
clinker-built long boat being rowed with determination
by ten oarsmen and a coxswain—part of an Outward
Bound group beating south to get home to Anacortes.
We gave them a mighty BRAVO as we passed, and they sang
back in unison, "Ahoy Mate." What marvelous
stamina and courage!
As we cross the unmarked international
boundary into the States, we find ourselves back in
the land of the high-speed demons. Passing by just 50
yards away, doing 20 knots, their wake creates more
havoc than nature does. Motoring through the San Juans
at our usual 6 knots, Don yells out to no one in particular:
"More horsepower than brains, you idiots!"
The innocuous chatter on Channel 16
annoys us both, and we realize we’re suffering
from culture shock. We appreciate the camaraderie in
Northern B.C. and Alaska, the courtesy, the helpfulness,
and the quiet beauty of the wilderness. To us, the Inside
Passage represents the best in cruising of anything
we’ve seen in over 150,000 miles of world cruising.
Rosario Strait is a dream and we pull
into Cap Sante Boat Haven by 1335. Home at last after
4,000 miles! Captain's additions:
We have now completed 626 net engine
hours since Catalina Island which adds up, as close
as we can tell, to 4,004 nautical miles over the ground.
As we unloaded and cleaned the boat,
Réanne and I were both a little reluctant to
jump into our car and race home, only 15 minutes away.
When we do finally get home at 1700 hours, we find the
electrical power out in our area. Heavy winds in the
afternoon must have knocked out some power lines.
We report the outage to the power
company which has no estimated time of repair. We look
at each other. "Let’s go back to Baidarka,"
Réanne says.
"Good idea!" I say. "We
can listen to the wind in the rigging and feel the gentle
rocking one more time . . ."
In our 95-day, 4,004-mile shakedown cruise from Dana
Point / Catalina Island, California to Lituya Bay, Alaska
and back to Anacortes, Washington, we averaged 42 nautical
miles a day. We spent one night at sea (Cape Mendocino);
otherwise we tucked safely into a marina (53 nights)
or anchored in small, intimate coves, usually by ourselves
(42 nights).
Over all, this trip gave us more variety
in weather, scenery, urban areas, and isolated remoteness
than any comparable trip we’ve made in over 150,000
miles of cruising. Both Réanne and I feel we
travelled in more comfort and safety than at any previous
time. While we had intense physical exertion coming
up the Pacific Coast due to the weather and rough seas,
our overall exertion was lower than average, thanks
to the electric windlass, the bow thruster, electronic
navigation and autopilot-steering, and other improvements
in technology and cruising equipment.
The boat was exceptionally dry. Winds
to about 25 knots created side spray. We took spray
on the pilothouse windows in 30-knot winds. At 40 knots
spray washed clear over the pilothouse. We took green
water on board just twice when we fell off 15-foot waves
under too much power. The Portuguese bridge deflected
the water effectively, and the foredeck drained quickly.
While the pace of our trip was unrelenting,
our schedule proved doable and within rather easy reach
of experienced and motivated boaters. We felt no need
to engage professional crew or weather routers. We were
able to explore several new anchor sites, update our
previously published data, take time for a four-day
family get-together in Anacortes in July and fly to
the Seattle Boat Show in Shilshole for public presentations
in August.
The primary statistics: We accumulated
625.7 hours on the engine; 55 genset hours; radar was
on standby 60 hours, transmitting 55 hours; over a total
distance of 4, 004 nautical miles we averaged SOG (speed
over the ground) of 6.4 knots. Trip fuel consumption
totalled 1,165 gallons, for an average of 1.86 gallons
per engine hour (peh). This number includes fuel for
the genset and a cruising rpm of 1500. We started from
Dana Point with full fuel tanks and refueled (738 gallons)
only in Ketchikan, Alaska on the northbound leg, than
again at the end of the trip in Anacortes (427 gallons),
our winter port. Average fuel consumption for the entire
trip was 1.86 gallons per engine hour (including genset).
From Dana Point, California to Ketchikan, consumption
was 2.08 mpeh; from Ketchikan to Lituya Bay and back
to Anacortes consumption was l.57 mpeh. The effects
of beating to windward up the coast are apparent.
With a total trip length of 4004 miles
and, consuming 1165 gallons of fuel, we averaged 3.44
nautical miles per gallon of diesel. Considering that
there is about a net of 900 useful gallons of fuel on
board, Baidarka has a range of approximately 3100 nautical
miles under these conditions. This is enough range to
be able to cross many of the worldwide oceanic routes.
We experienced no major problems;
and the autopilot problem was corrected by Nordhavn
and Simrad in Prince Rupert on our way south.
We took six layover days for weather
and were still able to maintain our original schedule.
We had no problem in reaching pick-up or drop-off points
for crew who assisted us for a total of six of the fourteen
elapsed weeks.
1. The superior design and construction of the Nordhavn
gave us strong confidence in a tough, go-anywhere boat,
while allowing us to enjoy more creature comforts than
we have experienced in our previous sail and power boats.
2. A small but very functional and
comfortable pilothouse, correctly positioned amidship,
with excellent visibility, and safe, useful aluminum
doors and windows.
3.The 3000-mile fuel range and adequate
water capacity. Large engine room with simple and reliable
layout.
4. Vessel speed and power were sufficient
for our pace; the single, protected prop was a blessing
at high latitudes where logs and debris can easily damage
a dual-prop boat. Baidarka attained 8 to 9 knots through
the water when we applied full power in some rapids.
We made 7 knots speed through the water in calm conditions
at normal cruising—1500 rpm. This dropped to 6
knots with moderate wind (15 to 20 knots) and 2- to
3-foot chop; 5 knots at 25-knot headwinds, 3-foot breaking
seas (Inside Passage).
With 30-knot headwinds and 8- to 12-foot
seas (outside conditions), we could attain only 4 knots
and had to slow down on breaking crests. In gale conditions
(30 knots with 40-knot gusts), with forward-breaking
seas, we attained only 3 knots and had to decrease rpm
to 1200 or 1300 at 2 knots to reduce pounding. We frequently
had to bring power back to idle and slow completely
at the top of steep waves. On occasion when we had to
heave-to in a gale to be able to rest, we did roughly
1 to 2 knots on autopilot about 20 degrees off the wind
at around 1000 rpm.
We would carry extra power to 1750
or so rpm to reduce exposure to certain sea conditions
and to 2000 to 2200 rpm in emergency conditions where
acceleration was needed. Deploying the paravane stabilizers
added greatly to crew comfort in a seaway and reduced
SMG [speed made good] by about half a knot. In the Inside
Passage (two-thirds of trip mileage), we used favorable
currents wherever possible; we found 1 to 2 knots most
of the time and, in some rapids 4 to 7 knots. Average
SOG (speed over the ground) along the Pacific Coast
(1/3 of trip) was 5 knots or less; in the Inside Passage
(2/3 of trip) SOG was 7 knots or more for what we consider
a trip average of 6.4 knots, overall.
5. The Nobeltec navigation software
and electronic charts, the Ocean PC computer, and the
Furuno differential GPS coupled to autopilot made simple
work of navigation and steering. These features make
it possible for a couple to drive a boat without exhausting
themselves. Never before have we felt the amount of
confidence that we did on this trip—that of knowing
precisely where we were, at essentially all times.
We sorely missed ease of navigating
when "bugs" developed—such as those
noted with the flux gate compass, with charts of unknown
horizontal datums, old charts of questionable accuracy,
minor quilting problems in the software, saving too
many waypoints in memory, etc. On more than one occasion
we were happy that we had a full set of paper charts
to consult and the ability to use dead reckoning. Overall
a good, relatively simple electronic navigation system
like we have aboard Baidarka is a major breakthrough
in small-boat navigation. From the start, we had every
electronic chart stored in memory for the entire Pacific
Coast and we found the convenience most helpful.
6. We had the full support of the
major manufacturers when we needed it. Some, such as
Nordhavn, Nobeltec, Ocean PC, and Furuno, were partial
sponsors for our undertaking and we cannot thank them
enough for their assistance. If you want more information
or wish to take a test drive, please see Pilothouse
Postings on www. FineEdge.com or email Don and Réanne
at office@FineEdge.com or contact Frank Durksen, the
Northwest Nordhavn rep, at aaayacht@anacortes.net
Starting from Dana Point, California, 0500 hours, Tuesday,
June 6, 2000
Day 1 anchored Santa Barbara Island, Ca, after a day
visiting Catalina Island
Day 2 anchored Fry’s Harbor, Santa Cruz Island,
Ca
Day 3 anchored Coho Anchorage, Point Conception, Ca
Day 4 tied up Morro Bay Yacht Club, Ca
Day 5 layover
Day 6 anchored San Simeon, Ca
Day 7 layover
Day 8 anchored Stillwater Cove (Pebble Beach,) Ca
Day 9 tied up Pillar Point Harbor (Half Moon Bay), Ca
Day 10 tied up Bodega Bay, Ca
Day 11 tied up Fort Bragg, Ca
Day 12 tied up Noyo Harbor via Shelter Cove, Ca
Dau 13 at sea, rounding Cape Mendocino, Ca
Day 14 tied up Eureka-Humboldt Bay, Ca
Day 15 tied up Crescent City, Ca
Day 16 tied up Brookings/Chetco River, Or
Day 17 anchored Port Orchard, Or
Day 18 tied up Charleston Boat Basin, Coos Bay, Or
Day 19 tied up Newport, Or
Day 20 layover
Day 21 tied up Garibaldi, Tillamook Bay, Or
Day 22 tied up Port Ilwaco, Columbia River, Wa
Day 23 tied up Westhaven, Westport, Wa
Day 23 tied up La Push, Wa
Day 24 anchored Neah Bay, Wa
Day 25 anchored Watmough Bay, San Juan Isls, Wa
Day 26 tied up Cap Sante, Anacortes, Wa
Day 27 layover
Day 28 layover
Day 29 layover
Day 30 layover
Day 31 tied up Orcas Island, San Juan Isls, Wa
Day 32 tied up Nanaimo, BC
Day 33 anchored Helmcken Isl, Johnstone Strait, BC
Day 34 anchored Walker Group Islands, BC
Day 35 anchored Kisameet Anchorage, BC
Day 36 anchored Rescue Bay, BC
Day 37 anchored Coghlan Anchorage, BC
Day 38 tied up Prince Rupert Yacht Club, BC
Day 39 tied up Ketchikan, Ak
Day 40 layover
Day 41 anchored Salmon Bay, Ak
Day 42 anchored Honeydew Cove, Kuiu Island, AK
Day 43 tied up Warm Springs Bay, AK
Day 44 tied up Tenakee Hot Springs, AK
Day 45 anchored Pleasant Island, Glacier Bay NP, AK
Day 46 anchored Murphy Cove, Glacier Bay NP, AK
Day 47 anchored Mosquito Cove, Glacier Bay NP, AK
Day 48 anchored Lituya Bay, Glacier Bay NP, AK
Day 49 layover
Day 50 Anchored Mirror Harbor, Chichagoff Island, AK
Day 51 layover
Day 52 anchored Khaz Head, Piehle Passage, AK
Day 53 anchored Kalinin Bay AK
Day 54 tied up New Thomsen Harbor, Sitka AK
Day 55 layover
Day 56 anchored Kliuchevoi Bay, Goddard Hot Springs,
AK
Day 57 anchored Scow Bay, Baranof Island, AK
Day 58 anchored Reannes Terror, Baranof Isl, AK
Day 59 anchored Kell Bay, Kuiu Island, AK
Day 60 anchored El Capitan Passage, AK
Day 61 anchored Sarkar Cove, AK
Day 62 anchored Garcia Cove, AK
Day 63 tied up North Harbor, Craig AK
Day 64 layover
Day 65 anchored Hole-In Wall, West Coast Dall Island,
AK
Day 66 anchored Elbow Bay, Long Island, AK
Day 67 anchored Edith Harbour, Dundas Island, BC
Day 68 layover
Day 69 tied up Prince Rupert Yacht Club, BC
Day 70 layover–fly to Seattle for boat show presentations
Day 71 layover
Day 72 layover
Day 73 layover
Day 74 layover
Day 75 layover
Day 76 layover
Day 77 layover
Day 78 layover; fly back to Prince Rupert
Day 79 layover
Day 80 anchored Larsen Harbour, Banks Island, BC
Day 81 layover
Day 82 layover; visit Borrowman Group and Griffith Harbour
Day 83 anchored Geodetic Cove, Trutch Island, BC
Day 84 layover
Day 85 anchored Alexander Inlet, BC
Day 86 tied up Shearwater, BC
Day 87 tied up Ocean Falls, BC
Day 88 layover
Day 89 tied up Duncanby Landing, BC
Day 90 anchored Blunden Harbour, BC
Day 91 anchored Helmcken Island, Johnstone Strait, BC
Day 92 anchored Nuttal Bay, Vancouver Isl, BC
Day 93 tied up Nanaimo, BC
Day 94 anchored Montague Harbour, BC
Day 95 tied up Cap Sante Anacortes, WA
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