Dent Island Lodge

Fishing and Relaxing at Dent Island Lodge

Well, Bob wanted to go salmon fishing, and Dent Island Lodge is the place to do it. So we had Henry (the manager) arrange for us to go out with Scott Anderson from 7-11am and find those fishies.

We awoke to thick, dense fog. It was really hard to see in front of your face, but we did find Scott and his 17’ fishing boat. We took off through those canoe rapids (it was high tide and not roaring too much) and didn’t get too far in the fog before we were navigating by GPS, trust, and prayer.

Foggy start.

After a couple of hours, the fog starts to lift and we can see the other boats fishing near us.

About 10:30 and the fog rolls back. A beautiful day with lots of fellow salmon hunters.

Salmon fishing is done in these boats by trolling. You set the line down about 130 feet and wait for something to nibble. Then you grab the fishing pole, hike it up high while you’re reeling like mad to ‘set the hook’ and then you keep reeling and reeling till you find out if you got a fish or a shoe or what.

Karen fights another Coho.

We had two poles going at all times. The one nearest Bob used large anchovies for bait and the one nearest me used a “hootchie”. Funny word for a green squidy looking thing. Anyway, Scott was a terrific guide and we had lots of action in no time at all. There are 5 kinds of Pacific Salmon: Chinook (a.k.a. King or Spring Salmon); Sockeye; Pink; Coho and Chum. We were on the hunt for Chinook, as you could keep those if they were large enough.

Karen with a "Pink". We'll get to eat this one.

The Coho, if wild (you could tell by one of their fins) had to be released, but if you caught a hatchery Coho (had that one fin cut off when small so it would be easy to tell), you could keep them. Sockeye weren’t really running, and most folk talk about pinks with a distinct lack of respect. Chum would be ok, but I didn’t have a lot of heart for catching a fish that shares a name with fish guts.

Releasing one of the many wild Cohos.

So…Bob’s new name is Chinook Bob. He hooked two nice Chinooks, one 12 pounds and one nearly 18.

This one did not get away.

Now the goal is to hook a Tyee, which is a Chinook that weighs 30 pounds or more, but we left that one there just in case someone else needed it (ha ha). Between us, we also caught one pink and 8 wild Coho(that had to be released). It was a blast reeling those fish in. The Coho put on a show and flop and jump as they near the boat. Despite the fact that they must realize we have to let them go, they have fear in their eyes as you reel them near enough to the boat to cut the hook and set them free.

 

Bob and fishing guide "Scotty" pose with a 12lb Chinook.

I was sad when it was time to come back in, I wanted more fish. But, after the 2 Chinook were filleted and vacuum packed, we had 12 huge servings of fresh salmon and who could want more? We gave the pink to Scott, by the way.

A great morning of fishing.

By the time the salmon was back in our fridge and freezer, we realized that we were knee deep in salmon and that 2 people weren’t going to be able to do them justice. Our first attempt at sharing was with two nice folks aboard the sailing vessel Coyote Blue. We had met them the day before and had been their accomplices at dinner as they fed the cats tasty tidbits from dinner. They received the salmon with joy, but gave us a bottle of wine in return. Hmmm…this trading stuff works well.

My second attempt at trading or even giving away fresh yummy salmon taught me a lesson in British Columbian reality. I was walking the docks and admiring a boat that was a 65’ Pacific Mariner. Bob and I had seen a similar boat last year at Princess Louisa, and thought they were really nice. So I walked down the dock to where the owner was washing his boat and asked if it was indeed a Pacific Mariner. In return, I was invited aboard for a grand snoop. This boat was pristine. Remember, you’re traveling in salt water (think water spots) and the fresh water you can access is too precious to clean a boat. Anyway, this boat had white carpet throughout. It was spotless. Immaculate. And the owner told me they had 4 dogs aboard! Yikes. My house is nowhere near this clean. I was impressed…and impressed by the boat and layout as well. It was lovely. I even got a tour of the standing room engine room. I think I surprised the owner by asking him if he had an engine room where he could actually stand up. As a thank you for the tour, I asked him (proudly) if he’d like some fresh salmon. He smiled weakly and then explained that he had a freezer full left to eat from his summer in Alaska. I started to realize that offering many folks fresh salmon is like offering sand to someone who lives on the beach. Still, it was worth it, because when I returned to Best of Times, Bob was jealous that I got the tour.

And then…our friends Ann and Doug showed up in Mokoro, the same folks we met at Blind Channel a few nights before.

Mokoro at Dent Island dock.

We had dinner together…but first….when last we left the kayak, it was in the back bay, having been portaged over there from our boat by the chef and the dock guy. Well, it was time to think about getting it back to the mother ship. The problem is, no one was going to portage it back for us. So we had to wait for slack water in those darned canoe rapids and then bring it back ourselves. I had lobbied to do that early the next morning, but Bob wanted to get it home and not worry about it. So, with less than one hour till dinner, we ran over, got the kayak, went through the nearly slack rapids with no problem, got an ovation from those watching on the deck, and made it to dinner with Ann and Doug on time. We had another great meal, made even better by the company. They are special folk, no doubt about it. Tried to convince them to come over for some more wine, but they had a date with the salmon in the early morning and decided turning in early was the better part of valor.

Blind Channel Resort to Dent Island Lodge

Blind Channel Resort to Dent Island Lodge: 15.8NM

Happy Labor Day! No labor for us!! We awoke to a cold and foggy morning and were glad of the heat on our boat. Have I mentioned that the water around here is about 50 degrees? You don’t want to go swimming, that’s for sure.

 This is how "stuff" gets delivered here. In this case, a barge full of propane tanks of all sizes. 

We headed out for Dent Island Lodge, a small resort owned by the Nordstrom family that our friends Ann and Doug recommended highly to us.

Dent Island Lodge  

Karen at the Dent Island welcome sign.  

I had already planned to come, but it was great hearing about it from someone who had been there. We timed our trip to go through Dent Rapids at slack and arrived to a fairly empty dock at Dent Island. It is a lovely spot, set on the mainland but right next to “canoe rapids” that run about 12 knots at maximum flood or ebb and make a lovely waterfall noise.

Canoe Rapids in full flow.  

Canoe Rapids turns slack.  

If you want to visit Dent Island, it's going to be by boat or plane. Here the "rush hour" arrivals come right after we have docked.  

The lodge has a huge main building with a library, a TV, a bar, dining room and outside decks as well as a cascade of other decks down to the canoe rapids where you can sit and read a book and watch the rapids. Radiating out from the main lodge is a system of wooden walkways and bridges that lead to 4 “cabins” nestled into the pines. Each cabin has a deck with a view of the water, and while I didn’t get into one, I’m sure they are lovely.

There is a workout room that has floor to ceiling windows looking at the water…but who wants to work out? Must be for those corporate types who come here for retreats.

Exercise room exterior. All the buildings have a beautiful rustic architechture.

Dent Island exercise room.  

View from the exercise room.  

Same view from the exercise room but at high tide.

There is a large group of Japanese fishing enthusiasts who are here and are repeat guests. They fish from dawn to dusk and brought their own chef from Japan to cook for them. They are really nice and seem to be having fun.

We cooked up the “pink” salmon for lunch on the grill (yummy, and so fresh) and then Bob got antsy and wanted something to do. The kayaking is on the other side of the bay, so the 110 lb kayak needed to be portaged to the back bay. It quickly became clear that I wasn’t up to the task, so Bob drafted the dock guy and the CHEF of this resort to do the dirty work. I shudder to think how they carried that thing 200 yards, up and down paths and across those wooden bridges.

The docks at Dent Island.

Time to kayak! We had a great time, though I was nervous that the rapids (both Canoe and Dent were howling) might reach out and suck us into their turmoil. Of course, they were a zillion yards away but you could see some white water and hear them, but where we were was like a millpond, and that was fine with us.

Dent Island from Back Bay in the kayak.  

Large Dent cabin as seen from the kayak.

 The kayak we left in the back bay but we’ll have to figure out how to get it back to our boat, hopefully when the canoe rapids are at slack. We decided to stay an extra day because Ann and Doug were coming on the 6th and because Bob wanted to go salmon fishing.

The next-door neighbor at Dent Island. You need a boat or a seaplane to go borrow a cup of sugar.

 Our dinner at the lodge was fabulous, very high quality stuff in a relaxed surrounding. The best part was that the lodge has 2 cats who hang out in the dining room. This is totally cool with me, as our cats do that too. Bob and I fed them both little tidbits of goat cheese soufflé and they were quite happy. One, “Miss Kitty”, let me hold her and I put here in Bob’s lap. I needed a kitty fix and got it!  We also watched 2 seals “body surf” through the canoe rapids, which was really neat to see.

Karen "poses" with Miss Kitty.

If there is a cat, Karen will find it. In this case, Twitch.

Handfield Bay to Blind Channel Resort

Handfield Bay to Blind Channel Resort: 14.5NM

A leisurely morning finds us leaving around 11 for our next stop, Blind Channel Resort.

Welcome to Blind Channel Resort.

The weather was nice, the seas were calm, and our 6 nautical miles of Johnstone Strait (notorious for nasty seas when winds blow against current) were peaceful. The entrance to Blind Channel (also known as Mayne Passage) is hard to spot from Johnstone Strait, hence the name. Made sense to me. We got to the “resort” and were the only boat there, soon to be joined by a host of others, though it wasn’t crowded in the least.

It’s a lovely spot owned for 30+ years by the Richter family. They have a store so you can re-provision (hard to find stores up here), fuel (very important and also often hard to find), potable water to refill our tanks (a precious commodity, also very hard to find), washer and dryers, and….a great restaurant, the Cedar Post Inn. We were there on the second to last night of the season for them; they close the restaurant just after Labor Day. Their “high season” lasts about 6 weeks. It is hard to imagine making enough money in six weeks to keep you going all year. The Richters also have a lovely home, and as we were walking toward it, we saw an amazing display in the middle of the channel. A group of about 50 porpoises were frolicking in the middle of the channel, not just swimming but actually breaching like whales and flying high out of the water and then back into it with a resounding splash. We watched them for 15-20 minutes before they decided to move on.

 The Richters convinced Interfor (the tree guys) to maintain some nice walking paths at the resort.

Karen on footbridge to Lookout Point.

We took the easy one out to a nice lookout spot, accompanied by the Resort dog. I was happy for the company, as there are bears in dem dere woods, and I figured the dog would be a good alert system. Despite several forays off the path, the dog did not spot a bear and that was fine with us.

Karen at Lookout Point

Blind Channel Resort from Lookout Point.

We chatted up a lot of nice people at Blind Channel. One small boat of fishermen went out to catch some salmon and said they would give us a “pink” (one of the 5 types) if they caught any. They came back flush with fish and walked down to our boat to see if we wanted a fish. We traded them 3 beers for it and all came away happy with the exchange.

At dinner in this lovely inn that overlooks Mayne Passage, we met a wonderful couple, Ann and Doug, who own a 52’ Ocean Alexander. They had been out since May and were working their way back from Alaska to Seattle. I asked if they would adopt me, but that didn’t seem to strike a chord. Still, we had glorious conversation over dinner and were invited to their boat for a post dinner glass of wine. Their boat, Mokoro, is absolutely lovely and best of all, they had a cat! I was nearly rendered speechless when I found out their cat, Koko, was just diagnosed at age 10 with Chronic Renal Failure, the same disease Aspen has. I spoke at length with Ann about how to give the fluids and our challenges with Aspen. I think she enjoyed talking with someone who was going through the same thing.

Best of Times at Blind Channel Resort.

Octopus Islands to Handfield Bay

  Octopus Islands to Handfield Bay: 16.7NM

I awoke early for some reason and went up to the pilothouse to watch the sun rise at 6:30. Unfortunately, it was very cloudy and foggy, so no sun was observed. The other ships in view were like ghost ships, barely visible through the fog.

Foggy start to the morning. Just a different kind of beauty.

"Not going out there."

Clouds starting to lift as the morning gives way to another day.

A couple of pretty pictures of the morning serenity.

A couple of our neighbors from the other cove get an early start.

Today we headed for Handfield Bay, just off Cameleon Harbour in Thurston Marine Park. (The Canadians have this marine park thing locked and loaded—they do a great job of keeping the most gorgeous land in government hands so it can be enjoyed by all). To get there, we had to transit Upper Rapids on Okisollo Channel at slack tide. This area has lots of rapids form where there are narrow passes, and they have strong currents and lots of white water. Best to transit at slack. When we went through it was super slack, nothing exciting to see. Turned into Discovery Channel and saw more traffic than we had in days, though not more than 5-6 boats. Turned again into Nodales Channel and started to look for Cameleon Harbour. Nodales Channel was so pretty….this entire area is tree lined to the waterline and full of mountains.

Handfield Bay’s entrance required some careful navigation, there is a very narrow channel edged by rocks and shoals, so Captain Bob kept the boat right in the center. I admit to being a little distracted as there were two porpoises just off our starboard side and I wanted to watch them instead of where we were headed! There was a sailboat anchored in the middle of this small bay, and two powerboats rafted on the right side and stern tied to shore. That left us a little maneuvering room on the port side of the bay, and we had a blast. We found a good spot to drop the anchor, just far enough away from the sailboat and then backed in close to shore and took a stern line ashore. That means launching the dinghy and having Bob “beach” it sort of on the rocks while I play mountain goat and climb and climb till I find a good tree or rock to attach the stern line too. No problem.

We settled in to have lunch and watched as the 2 powerboats that were rafted decided to leave. Interestingly, both had anchors down. And you know what happened! The anchors became intertwined and it was a good source of entertainment to watch the two skippers hoist their anchors and untangle them. They were really cool about it and noted that they were the afternoon’s entertainment.

"I got it". "No, I got it!"

 

Closeup of the anchor spaghetti. Pink arrow points to the two entangled anchors.

We decided to rest on kayaking, so took the dinghy down to the head of Cameleon Harbour, checking out the 2 powerboats and 2 sailboats that were anchored there. A lovely spot, but not as cute and secluded as ours! As we passed by the anchored 40’ Nordhavn, we said hello and they told us they wanted to come into Handfield Bay where we were but it looked too crowded!

I wanted to see the rest of the marine park so Bob got the seriously overpowered dinghy flying and, with our trusty portable GPS on the seat beside him, took off for parts unknown. It was a great day, we saw several blue herons and also found a great anchorage lagoon where the entrance dries at high tide but is safe inside. One sailboat had snagged that great anchorage all to itself.

When you’re “on the hook”, you have to make all your meals…or I should say Bob does dinner and we share breakfast and I do lunch. Dinner was superb, chicken on the grill marinated in peanut butter and other stuff and red bliss potatoes roasted in the oven with fresh herbs. No hardship at Café Bob.

Capt'n Bob at the helm of the versatile explorer dinghy.

Best of Times sitting pretty in Handfield Bay along with the kayak named "Canoe".

Karen and Best of Times from the dinghy.  

The Octopus Islands

At anchor in the Octopus Islands 

Last year, I had dreamed of reaching the Octopus Islands, because their reputation was superb and I wanted to see if reality lived up to the hype. It does….in spades. We had a peaceful night at anchor, and awoke to watch the tide recede. This was particularly interesting, because while we knew that these islands were dotted with rocks, when the tide went out, you could see them in living color. A bit scary, as we had navigated so carefully yesterday and had the charts with the enlargement of the area in our hands and on our computers, but not every hazard is marked and it pays to keep a close eye on the water from the bow, looking for white smears that turn into big rocks at low tide. 

 

The day before when we anchored in the afternoon at high tide, this was the view just to our north. Maybe a good place to anchor? 

 

The next morning; low tide, and the same view reveals the rocks and shoaling that were covered at high tide. Definitely not a good place to anchor! 

   

Best of Times in The Octopus from the kayak. 

 While the tide was low, we went for a 90-minute kayak excursion, our second experience in the kayak and just a great as the first. In fact, it was better, as exploring at low tide means that you see all the cool life forms that are typically covered up. We saw huge orange and purple starfish, crabs, and clams, who at low tide were squirting water into the air like geysers. Bob and I do not have the hang of synchronous paddling yet, but we are trying to improve. We did see a few huge seals frolicking across Waiatt Bay, but they were shy and did not let us approach. 

    

Karen in the Kayak. 

 After lunch and a siesta, we decided to go for a dinghy ride to see the entire area and scope it out. Unfortunately, our tour was cut short by rain. I was amazed that on a Friday of a long holiday weekend, there were so few boats in this lovely province-maintained marine park. We retreated to our dry boat in our snug anchorage, now shared with just one other boat, a sailboat apparently single-handed by an avid female kayaker. Wonder if she gets lonely? 

 

Karen shows off her bruises as she hangs the towels out to dry, taking advantage of the sun starting to chase away the rain. 

   

The view from our cove over to the neighboring cove. Another stern line holds us fast in this small anchorage. 

   

Where's Karen? Just look for the book, blankie and sunbeam. Do Not Disturb! 

One other thing – up here, getting rid of garbage is a chore. Few places accept it, and there’s always a charge. There was a garbage barge moored at the entrance to the marine park, complete with flower boxes and a money box on a chair for you to use the honor system when you dropped off your refuse. How cool is that? 

 

The garbage barge outside Octopus entrance. 

Rebecca Spit to the Octopus Islands

Rebecca Spit to Surge Narrows: 8.7NM

Surge Narrows to Octopus Islands: 6.7NM

I awaken early on Thursday, perhaps to make up for my sloth of the prior morning. Up at 6:30, I head for the pilothouse to wrap up in a blanket and catch the sunrise. Suffice it to say, it’s another British Columbia day, grey and cloudy, with no sun to be seen. But the best part is that Bob and I don’t care, because it’s so great up here, the weather is secondary.

Boats start leaving from Rebecca Spit quite early, off to catch the tides to somewhere else. We have no need to leave until later in the afternoon, so we had a truly leisurely morning.

Having decided we needed not only a motorized dinghy but also a kayak for this trip, it was time to test our kayak out. We rented a 17’ double kayak, which Bob said was because “if we get into trouble and get caught by the current and swept out to sea, at least we’ll be together.”  Nice sentiment!  Anyway, we decide it’s a grand and windless morning to try out the kayak thing.

Kayaks ride quite low to the water, so we had some fun doing gymnastics to get into the kayak without falling overboard. Actually, it wasn’t too bad. And due to the luck of who fits best where, I get to sit aft, with the rudder controls. It also means that I get to critique Bob’s strokes and paddling technique, while he can see nothing of my mistakes. I like that.

We had a great paddle, but I’m sure we were amusing the natives. We could not seem to figure out how to paddle synchronously. Of course, we ARE two only children, so we each wanted to do it our way. Nevertheless, we skirted the shoreline and saw lots of shells and purple starfish (those are really cool) and generally enjoyed ourselves. Returned to the boat without incident, either.

Rebecca Spit on Quadra Island is a lovely park. Quadra is the largest of the Discovery Islands with a year round population of only 2700. The spit is formed by Heriot Bay and Drew Harbor on one side and the Strait of Georgia on the other. The spit is narrow and has great walking trails and rocky beaches.

 

 Karen makes a "legal" trash run at the park on Rebecca Spit.

Low tide at Rebecca Spit.

Our float plan for the day is to go through Surge Narrows (one of those frightening narrows that has strong currents and riptides and back eddies, so it needs to be transited near slack water) and onto the Octopus Islands, one of my most desired destinations. We missed the Octopi last year because we ran out of time, but this year I have 2 nights scheduled.

We retrieved our stern lines without incident and headed up toward the narrows with enough time to stop in at the infamous Surge Narrows store. This is an old fashioned store with goods piled up on shelves, run by nice people and with just enough dock space for us to squeak in.

Surge Narrows store in all it's glory. Not impressive from the outside, but full of what a boater wants and needs.

Best of Times viewed from the Surge Narrows Store.

Careful not to walk down the "wrong side" of the docks.

There is a post office on the opposite dock open three days a week. We saw a local fellow run over in his dinghy to pick up mail at his mailbox, right there on the dock. Wild.

The "Post" at Surge Narrows.

The transit through the narrows was uneventful. Guess that’s good? The approach to the Octopus Islands is narrow and rock strewn, but Bob with nerves of steel had no problems. I expected to find the anchorage crowded, but we are currently anchored with only 2 other boats and we feel lucky to be in this pristine and very quiet place without a lot of neighbors. What a great place to relax, and tomorrow another kayak excursion is planned.

At last, we reach the fabled Octopus Islands.

Gorge Harbour to Rebecca Spit

Gorge Harbour to Rebecca Spit: 9.2NM

I always title these blogs as to what day it is. I force myself to do this because without it, I would have no idea whatsoever where we are on the calendar. Not important to myself, Karen or this trip, but we need such information when contacting the outside world in those infrequent sojourns back to reality.

Speaking of which, the paper, Vancouver Sun arrived today at Gorge Harbor, a twice-weekly event. Normally I never look at newspapers, no matter the title, location nor scarcity in this case. However, the pictures of New Orleans under water that were emblazoned on the front page caused me to stop and add it to my purchase of orange juice.

Having spent the first fourteen years of my life on the Gulf Coast, only one wooden bridge down the road from Louisiana, I remember tracking hurricanes as a boy with my map torn from our local paper. The blank tracking form was provided by the publisher for just such a purpose. I never experienced the likes of a storm of this magnitude when I was a boy. In fact, I would often go out in the hurricanes and pick up shingles as they were blown from their appointed places on roofs unknown. I distinctly remember the sting of the horizontal rain. It felt like small needles on your skin. The drops of water were harmless and somewhat exhilarating for a 10 year old boy.

Unlike those in the path of Katrina, today was going to be a lazy one for the crew of the motor vessel Best of Times. I awoke at the usual time, 6:30, urged on by my internal alarm clock, better known as my bladder.

Karen, however, was cocooned in the berth and was not to be disturbed. So I passed the time reading such things as Yachting and Blue Water Sailing. Appropriate enough given the circumstances. When “it” arose and gave a cackle, the signal had now been given to all that now the official start of the day was upon us.

In a previous edition of this blog, we mentioned that it appears that not much to nothing had been done to address the list of problems with this boat one year ago. One of my favorites is the locking pliers I use for the left burner control on the cooking range.

 

Vise Grips to the rescue. By the way, the bacon up here is great!

As the picture illustrates, it is necessary to remove the quintessential black plastic knob and replace it with a pair of locking pliers if you want to maintain control of the temperature. It seems that as soon as the burner heats up, so does the metal stud the knob fits on to. The result is that the plastic knob expands just enough to prevent it from gripping the metal stud, thus rendering the assembly useless.

The day was a lazy one and the weather had adopted the same attitude. It was dead calm in Gorge Harbor. With the dock clear of other boats and the weather and wind on hiatus, it was time for Karen to captain the boat as it left the dock. This would be her first time. A skilled navigator and comfortable at the helm while in route, she had not tackled the duties of the captain while arriving or departing from the dock. It is the most challenging part of the helmsman’s job, navigating tons of floating fiberglass next to an immovable structure.

As I was certain would be the case, she commanded Best of Times off the dock at Gorge Harbor with aplomb. I on the other hand, taking Karen’s role as first mate, was on and off the boat securing the shore power cord, untying lines and tending to the proper stowage of the fenders. I’ll be resuming my Captain’s duties soon; it’s always warm, dry and comfortable in the helm chair.

Karen took us out of Gorge Harbor, a wonderful place, a harbor enclosed on all sides, save for a small passage between sheer cliff walls.

Narrow entrance to Gorge Harbor. Looked very small the first time. This year it seems much larger.

Some things are universal, no matter your latitude or longitude.

With lots of room inside, you can always find a comfortable refuge for the night. The harbor is also home to football field sized aquaculture farms. Nothing much more than floating cages with fish inside, the aqua farmers dance across the tops of the tethered structures tending to their “crops”.

Aqua-culture in Gorge Harbor

Captain Karen took us over to Rebecca Spit. This large but tranquil bay was to be home for the night. Drop anchor in 18 feet of water and into the dinghy to set the stern line. While the pictures you will see are of our stern lines set in place, these images are the result of quite a bit of finagling, and engineering. We must launch ourselves in the dinghy, dragging a 3/8" polypropylene line with us. The line held by Karen wants to turn the dinghy around while I try to make headway to beach the dinghy. Now beaching the dinghy requires that you get up a full head of steam and aim the rubber vessel square at the rocky beach. At just the right instant, so as to not lose all your momentum, you must stop the engine and raise it out of the water so as not to drag the prop on the rocky shore. Miss your timing, and the dinghy stops about two feet short. Now, the embarrassed captain must paddle back a little, lower the motor, restart and take another crack at his target. Somehow I think if Columbus was burdened with these modern inventions, he world have sailed on to Cuba rather than risk an unsuccessful landing.

Karen "pumps up" the dinghy in preparation for our sojourn. 

The landing party prepares to attack the beach at Rebecca Spit.

Speaking of miscalculation, our typical procedure for stern tying is to take one end of the line ashore, wrap it around something that will not move and return the bitter end to the yacht. That way, when you’re ready to depart, one simply lets one end go and pulls on the other end, returning the yellow line to its rather large wooden spool. The beauty of this is that there is no second round of beaching of the dinghy required.

So as I walked the line toward the nearest sturdy looking tree, it became apparent that we were, as the passing smart ass remarked to me, “about ten feet short, eh?”

Plan B; tie the stern line to the tree, thus requiring only half as much line. That’s what we did, knowing that sometime tomorrow, we would have to launch the dinghy, throw ourselves onto the rocks and untie before we could ride the tide to our next port of call.

Dinghy after a successful beaching and stern line mission.

Stern tie in place at Rebecca Spilt as the kayak stands guard. 

Best of Times safe and secure, stern line and all in Rebecca Spit. 

On of the many B.C. Ferries as it passes Rebecca Spit on its regularly scheduled stop at Heriot Bay.

Garden Bay to Gorge Harbour

Garden Bay to Gorge Harbor: 52.3NM 

It’s one of those mornings when I’d like to laze around but our float plan has us going over 52 nautical miles and the weather doesn’t sound like it’s going to be that great in the afternoon.  

 

The clouds give the pine trees a morning hug in Garden Bay.  

So up with the anchor and out we go, turning right to head up to Desolation Sound and beyond. 

 

Karen practices her twin screw maneuvering techniques. 

 

A classic yacht heads south and we make our way north. 

 

Passing Grief Point marked by the red and white tower. Appropriately named, today it provided no grief at all.  

This is a long stretch in Malaspina Strait, adjacent to the Strait of Georgia and occasionally just as mean, something we found out last year to our dismay. Anyway, the forecast was for Southeasterly Winds, which are always worth keeping a close eye on, but Bob was confident we’d be fine. We started off with beam seas, which made us roll a bit and caused Bob to turn off the autopilot, but after a while it settled down. I skippered for about 2 hours while Bob took a catnap.  

 

Karen at the helm.  

The most interesting thing we heard was a mayday call from an 85-foot motor yacht that struck a rock near Cortes Island. It is very rocky around here and constant vigilance is required. Anyway, the Canadian Coast Guard didn’t mess around, the boat was taking on water and in danger of sinking. They put out the mayday, and within a few minutes, a dive boat was on the scene with a pump, helping keep the boat afloat. We saw the boat later in the day, being towed to Lund by the Coast Guard for repairs. While striking a rock and holing the hull is everyone’s worst nightmare (especially in this 58 degree water), it was really good to see the quick response and how all the nearby mariners pitched in to help.  

Our day was to end in Gorge Harbour, a fabulous anchorage on Cortes Island (but away from that rock I mentioned earlier) that is completely protected from winds. 

 

Nice trawler style yacht resting in Gorge Harbor. 

We stayed here last year and found the restaurant, the Old Floathouse, to be so good, we decided to return. We took a spot at the docks, met the owners of a lovely Krogen 42 trawler and were invited aboard for a tour. They had a kitty on board but I didn’t see it, I think it was hiding in the flybridge when we were there. We did some laundry and met two nice people who kept feeding money into the dryer for us so we didn’t have to stand there all afternoon and watch the moss grow while hoping our clothes would eventually get dry. 

 

Rainy walk back from the laundry at Gorge Harbor.  

That was really nice of them, because it rained during the afternoon and then a giant rainbow appeared, which we would have missed if stuck in the laundry room. 

 

Rainbow over Gorge Harbor dock.  

Had a superb dinner at this small restaurant away from civilization, with cuisine that could hold its own with anything Philly has to offer. I had the best wild salmon in orange confetti sauce (Grand Marnier and orange zest) and Bob had fresh halibut. It was great, and our friends from the laundry were there too, so we bought them dessert and swapped a few stories. 

Wonder what tomorrow will bring?

Ganges Harbour to Garden Bay

Ganges Harbor to Dodd Narrows: 27.9NM

Dodd Narrows to Garden Bay, Pender Harbor: 33.7NM

Best of Times happy to be in Ganges Harbor.

We awoke in Ganges feeling rested and ready to take on a crossing of the Strait of Georgia with a dry companionway. We decided to make one more quick trip into Ganges before departing, given that we had to time our trip to occur at slack at Dodd Narrows. So we walked around, bought some killer cookies and hand cream at the grocery store, and ended up standing in line waiting for the liquor store to open. It’s a bit scary, seeing yourself waiting impatiently on a Monday morning for the liquor store to open. I shared the sidewalk with two…gentlemen who seemed far more desperate than I for the unlocking of the door! All I was trying to do was replenish our wine supply, as it can be difficult to do so once in Desolation Sound and beyond.

Walking the docks at Ganges. "No Karen, you cannot take it out for a spin".

Anyway, we had a nice ride to Dodd Narrows, a passageway that we had to get through at slack. It’s a very narrow spit of land where all the water needs to flow through a few time a day, so it makes for some impressive rapids. We arrived early, and had to wait for all the southbound traffic to come through (one at a time, single file) before we could be on our way.

Our wake on the way to Dodd Narrows. The wise mariner makes a quick passage when the weather is this nice.

The weather forecast was so good for the Strait of Georgia that we decided to skip Nanaimo and just keep on going. The winds were out of the Northwest and we had 1-2 foot chop with swells, but mostly it was just a great ride to Pender Harbor.

On the lookout! There is lots of tugboat traffic. The tugboat is just above the orange arrow and its tow is noted by the yellow arrow. Between the two is about a quarter of a mile of steel cable hidden below the surface waiting for the mariner that does not give these vessels a wide berth. 

Bob and I like Pender Harbor with its miles of shoreline. We decided to anchor in Garden Bay for the evening. Imagine my surprise when the anchor windlass decided to jam. Bob was telling me to move the cam lever to loosen it. I couldn’t budge it, and he got all grumpy and came charging down from the pilothouse only to find he couldn’t budge it either. A few bangs from the boat’s rusty hammer and we were back in business, with anchor set and lovely views abounding. It had been a long day in terms of hours underway and miles traveled, so we took it easy, ate aboard the boat (Bob’s killer Thai peanut butter chicken and roasted potatoes!) and had a peaceful night.

Safely at anchor in Garden Bay. 

Sportsmans' Lodge in Garden Bay. Good eats if you're in the neighborhood. However, tonight, Chef Bob is cooking.

Annette Inlet to Ganges Harbour

Annette Inlet to Ganges Harbour: 4.9NM

As the light of dawn shone upon beautiful Annette Inlet on Prevost Island, we find the M/V Best of Times still floating. Low tide at 7AM still left almost four feet of water under the keel. So we’re feeling pretty good about the computer tide prediction as well as our ability to read the printed tide tables.

Unfortunately, during my by 3AM trip to the head, I was rudely awakened by my toes as they felt the cold damp carpet in the companionway. Given our experiences last year, I knew what was going on. So familiar was the feel and sound, I did not even let out the expected “Oh Shit!" I just went about my business, returned to bed realizing that the better part of valor was to get some more sleep and store up energy for the morning plumbing chores.

After taking her shower Karen, picked up the coffee pot and began to bail. By now the water was “6 inches deep”. Editor’s note: That’s about an inch in the real world. However, it is backbreaking work and all Karen’s efforts did was to keep the water from rising more.  It was not getting any shallower in the estuary known more familiarly as the companionway (from master stateroom to the main salon).

Now you have to remember that we went through this exact same problem one year ago. Therefore, it was time to jump into the Way-Back machine and see if we could come up with a fix. Off with the hatch and sure enough, in the forward bilge stood about “six inches” of water. Editors’ note, since that’s a Bob measurement, he IS talking about six inches. 

The float switch appears to be in working order. Moving the master control switch in the helm from automatic to manual brings the pump alive. After pumping the bilge dry, my troubleshooting confirms my memory that the switch is wired so that when “manual” is chosen, it is really automatic. This counter intuitive wiring was the jury rig solution the charter company came up with last year just before we departed. So after a full year, nothing has been done to correct the wiring. Confident we know now how to keep the sump and our “piggies” dry, this chapter of the D.Y.I. Boat Channel comes to a close.

We take a short hop over to Ganges, one of our favorite harbors.

Karen, a.k.a. "The Lounge Lizard" finds the most comfortable place in the pilothouse to rest up from the being the human bilge pump.

We chose Ganges as the place to meet the people who are going to rent us a two person Kayak for the trip. It is going to be an adventure, with some learning curves and some physical acrobatics to master, but they gave us a great, in-depth briefing so we have the knowledge, now we just need so see if we can apply it. (Karen’s Note: This kayak is BIG. It is over 17 feet in length and we are having one heck of a time finding a good place to stow it. Did I mention it weighs over 100lbs? Not easy for us to move.

Best of Times is not certain about the new addition of the kayak.

We had also planned to do some last minute “I forgot” provisioning” at Ganges. The trip to the local “everything” store resulted in the purchase of cream cheese, a few more boxes of Zip-Lock bags, another loaf of bread and a wet dry vacuum. Given the long list of things that need to get done, we vacuum the carpet as dry as we can, get the computer/internet/cell phone/satellite phone interfaces working, create a revised script for a client that needs to get out…so, though we didn’t plan it,  Ganges is going to be our overnight stop. We were both really tired. As Karen said; “when you start to operate only in the reactive mode, that’s when something major bad happens”. Needless to say, we did not want that to occur. 

I always like Ganges because it has almost as many seaplanes coming and going as boats.

Ganges International Airport

So we got caught up on chores, and had a nice dinner on shore at a great little bistro named Calvin’s (run by a Swiss émigré) and recharged our batteries. Tomorrow we’ll be off to have fun, on our terms, not at the mercy of the Gods of the Sea nor the gremlins of the Charter Company.

Friday Harbor to Annette Inlet

Friday Harbor to Bedwell Harbor: 15.9 Nautical Miles (NM)

Bedwell Harbor to Annette Inlet: 10.7NM

(Karen writes) Friday dawned to a lovely day. We were up early as our bodies were not accustomed to Pacific Daylight time, and we (having previously rented a car) headed off for Roche Harbor, a pretty little town not too far from Friday Harbor. Had a nice breakfast, and then headed back to Friday Harbor to start provisioning for the boat at Kings, the fabulous but expensive island supermarket. $500 later, we were off to our boat, Best of Times. 

Up early Saturday (still glorious weather) to work with the charter company to fix all the problems we found the night before. We were rather disheartened to discover that nearly all the problems we squawked last year on this boat were still there. We held our ground and got several things fixed before we left, though not all. We didn’t get away from the dock until 1pm or so.

We headed off, determined to capture the rhythm of vacation. First stop was Bedwell Harbor and Poet’s Cove, where Bob had to clear Canadian customs. We could take some lessons from our northern neighbors. Clearance is by phone, very civilized, done in about 3 minutes. It will take many times that amount of time to clear back into the U.S.!

Poet’s Cove is co-located with the Customs dock, and is a lovely 5-star resort that happens to have some nice moorage for us boaters. We didn’t want to stay long, just snoop a bit, so we tied up at the transient dock. This is more appropriately called “The floating dock that is attached to nothing so that you have to launch the dinghy to get to shore” dock. The wind was fighting us as Bob docked the boat, but between his skill, the nice people on the dock who caught our lines, and the trusty bow thruster, we were home free. A short dinghy ride took us to Poet’s Cove, which is really nice. Certainly we can vouch for the fact that the pub was nice, as we taste tested some of Canada’s finest brew.

After some more snooping, we set off for our first night’s anchorage, Annette Inlet on Prevost Island. I had read a lot about it, and wanted to try it out.

Lots of Canadians in B.C. make their home where the granite meets the "ocean".

The entrance to the inlet is guarded by a few well-placed and unmarked rocks, so we went carefully. It is a lovely pastoral inlet that is quite shallow and requires serious attention to the depth finder. Most of the great anchor spots were taken, but Bob kept at it and found a good spot with just enough depth for us to still be afloat (we hoped!) when the tides went out around 7am (just a small 10 foot drop).

Tranquil evening at Annette Inlet.

We had a great dinner, courtesy of Bob and some red wine and we were sure that our vacation was on track and that we were off to a terrific start!

Our Adventure Begins

The morning dawned beautiful. If fact it was beautiful from coast to coast. A phalanx of high pressure systems means that weather should not be a factor in our flights from Philadelphia, through Chicago to Seattle and on to Friday Harbor.  

Why Friday Harbor? It’s where we pick up the charter boat for our three week voyage of discovery in the waters of British Columbia.  

 

Karen’s left hand points to Friday Harbor and her right to the northern most point of our planned travels. How far is that? I have no idea. I’m on vacation, and one day at a time is about as far as I plan with that much detail. 

 Unfortunately, dawn came about 3 hours after the alarm signaled it was time to get out of bed. 

 Fortunately, the positive omen of those high pressures did foretell of easy travels. The dreaded Blue Route was not backed up despite the seemingly never-ending repair crews that choke this major artery. The security lines at Terminal D were almost non-existent. I got through without a “hands-on” inspection despite the fact that my carry-on bags were rammed, jammed and packed with enough electronics to guide the QE2 around Cape Horn and a Radio Shack wall of cords and mysterious looking stuff.   

Happy to be through security without a luggage colonoscopy, I glanced back at the other line to see an elderly clergyman, his shoes and pious black suite coat off, his white collar a bit askew, teetering on his cane, trying to extend his arms without falling over. Somehow one cannot help but question how the U.S. approaches our homeland security priorities. 

Change planes at O’Hare, just two gates down and one over in Terminal C. No time to pick up some airport food for the flight so Karen and I try the “selection” of $5.00 “meals”. We won’t make that mistake again. However the mysterious contents in the brightly colored boxes may serve the purpose of keeping ne’er do wells from choosing this U.S. airline as a weapon of choice.  

Oscar picks us up at SEATAC and, choosing a circuitous route to avoid the parking lot that is I-5, whisks us to Boeing Field to meet our ride to Friday Harbor provided by Island Air. 

Our ride, a Cessna Staionair, never ceases to amaze me in how it swallows our back busting array of duffle bags without complaint. Then, without a grunt or shudder, it effortlessly takes to the air. I put on my smug face as I look down at I-5, the only major north-south artery available to the residents and transients of Seattle. The roadway has a severe case of plaque, all those little cars and trucks spending more time stopped than moving. Our 35-minute trip in our blue and white Cessna would be a 4 hour sentence in purgatory if we chose the terrestrial travel option. 

 

The little Cessna 207 that could.  

 

Yes, it does all fit and we do get off the ground. And most all of it is needed. 

 Upon arrival at the Friday Harbor airport our search for a dentist begins. Karen has been less than happy at the signals one of her teeth is sending her. The thought of being in the wilderness for three weeks is starting to sink in and we agree that a preventive visit to the tooth doctor is the wisest course of action. Our friends at Island Air provide us with the name of the only “good” dentist on the Island. “Oh by the way, there is a new guy on the island but no one knows anything about him”. 

 The visit to the recommended dentist’s office causes us to lose all faith in the human species. “I realize that you have a dental emergency, but it is not our emergency” was our greeting.  Need I say more?  

We’re directed to the “new guy” down the street. Karen leads as she walks up the stairs. “Where’s the office, this doesn’t look like any dentist office I’ve ever been in”. Her initial impressions were right on. We walked into an open floor plan space looking more like someone’s tastefully decorated home than the typical, “what is that smell”, sterile dental office. We’re greeted with a warm smile and a sympathetic ear.  

They can take Karen in a few minutes. “The new guy is still building his business,”  I think to myself. We sit down in the comfy living room style couches and choose from a selection of reading material that offers such fine reading as BW ( a high end photo magazine), Communication Arts (we get that at our office), Vogue and a peppering of French language publications.  

A few minutes later, out comes Bo, the dentist. He is Kevin Black’s doppelganger. That description speaks volumes to those who have the privilege to know Kevin. For those of you who do not; suffice it to say Bo is a kind and gentle soul, with a sense of humor always just under the surface that breaks out at the most unexpected but nevertheless charming times.  

Karen takes over here to describe the proceedings in the “chair”, I being content to catch up on my reading on the comfy couch drinking the Diet Coke, brought to me in a glass, with ice, by Bob himself.  

(Karen writes) Those of you who know me understand that I am terrified of the dentist. I have apparently inherited a good deal of my Dad’s DNA when it comes to teeth, and have my fair share of problems. And, with 2 root canals under my belt, I learned that I “cannot get numb” despite the number of shots and dentist attempts to help. So, I went into this unknown man’s office with great trepidation. Who knows if he knew what he was doing?  

I also, sadly to say, knew the “signals” from my tooth were not good. They started the night before we left home (of course) and had become progressively worse as the day went on. I was pretty sure it was root canal time.  

But first, let me tell you about the chamber of horrors, which was actually pretty darned nice. The view from the dental chair was out a wall of windows, overlooking gorgeous Friday Harbor and all the boats and ferry activity.  

 

 

Views from "the chair" 

Not too shabby. Bo and his assistant Megan were great, making silly jokes all the time while being seriously committed to getting me numb. For yes, those of little faith, it was indeed root canal time. As Bo leaned the dental chair further and further back, what came into my terrified view? A HUGE plasma screen TV that was mounted on the ceiling for my viewing pleasure. Couple this with rock and roll music, with Megan and Bo singing harmony, and you get the picture. Oh…yes….and Bo had the magic juice to get me numb. I felt absolutely nothing. This was sheer heaven. Bo said it was because West Coast dentists had their act together. Whatever it is, I’d go back in an instant, and was appropriately thankful for finding him. Otherwise, I’d have been one sick puppy on our vacation.   

 Jump to dinner…at a restaurant called Steps, which is owned by the aforementioned Megan’s boyfriend Madden. He is a terrific chef, and we had a great meal (even though I was totally numb and kept drooling my great wine out of the corner of my mouth).  

 

Great place to dine if you ever get to Friday Harbor. 

Madden came over to the table and spent some time chatting with us. The world is so small, he used to be a chef on Nantucket and knows a friend of ours who runs a great restaurant on Nantucket called Oran Mor.  

Off to Friday’s Historic House B&B for (hopefully) a good and pain free night’s sleep.  

 

Home for the last night on land.

Home for a Week

The "doll house" on Nantucket, as our realtor and good friend Elton Burch described it, is located at 19 Sherburne Turnpike not far from the toll booth. (You can click on any picture to see a larger version)

As cute as the outside is, the interior is cozy and comfortable.

Karen, the beach lover, is gathering souvenirs from our trip; the cheap ones that is.

"We should have bought here 10 years ago." Real estate has gone through the stratosphere, in fact here you see two natives who recently lost their six story walk-up to the developers who intend to replace their love nest with a rotating restaurant.

So, as we say goodbye to the The Grey Lady, Great Point Light bids us a fond farewell till the next time.

One Can Dream

This is Triton. Seen in Seattle, it's got it all including the airborne dingy. Santa is a seasonal feature.

Here is another photo with Triton in its proper environnment.

To learn more about Triton and to see more photos go to:

http://www.deltamarine.com/yacht_triton.html