Monckton Inlet

I was up early – to find the promised rain and low clouds. I worked on updating our logbook while I waited for Bob to arise. We decided we were running ahead of our planned schedule, so we’d take a lazy day and spend it in Monckton.  We really did absolutely nothing!

We watched two movies, A Different Loyalty (with DiCaprio and Crowe), and Rumor Has It, which was kind of funny. We were lucky the owner of Alaskan Dream had a good DVD selection to keep us entertained.

Dinner was Bob’s excellent homemade pizza and some wine. It was a great day to just stay warm, look out at the rain, and relax.

Hawk Bay to Monckton Inlet

We woke to fog and low visibility. We couldn’t even really see out from the anchorage into the channel. We didn’t have that far to go today, and despite the fact that the forecast was for increasing winds, we decided to hunker down for a while and see if the weather and visibility improved any.

Somehow those lazy mornings get away from you!  We had decided we were going to leave about 2pm to catch the most favorable currents, and so we watched the movie Ronin (with Robert De Niro and Jean Reno, from 1998)to pass the time.  Just as we were leaving, the Nordhavn Feisty Lady came into the anchorage.  We gave him a call on the radio to let him know we were leaving, so that he could drop his hook close to us and get the best spot.

Visibility was somewhat improved, but as soon as we stuck our nose out of Hawk Bay we kind of realized how Squally Channel got its name. The wind and waves were on the beam, so we modified our course more towards Campania Island to get a more comfortable ride. Definitely a hand-steer passage rather than autopilot! The 49 is a solid boat, though, and between the stabilizers and the weight of the boat, the ride wasn’t uncomfortable. Visibility was up and down, and as the visibility cleared, we could see signs that a front was passing. Once we turned up into Otter Passage and then Principe Channel, the wind and waves were more on the stern, and we surfed our way up to Monckton Inlet, which is near the south tip of Pitt Island. We kept a sharp eye out for whales, but were skunked. We did see the Norwegian Pearl pass by well ahead of us.  Visibility continued to be inconsistent. Principe Channel is 4 miles wide at the south end, and Banks Island (4 miles across the Channel) was often totally obscured during our trip.

There is a long entrance into Monckton Inlet, but it also provides protection from the weather. We took the anchorage behind Roy Island, a nice flat-bottomed bay with some interesting islets to look at. We got the anchor firmly set in 50’ of water, and spent the evening all alone in the anchorage, watching the boat dance around due to the winds.  Two episodes of The Good Wife, and a great time was had by all. Forecast for tomorrow? Rain.

Khutze Inlet to Butedale to Hawk Bay, Fin Island

We were up early again to catch a favorable current to Butedale. It was overcast and not very nice out. Bob flaked the anchor chain as I brought it up, which seems to help avoid the anchor chain jams we’d had to wrestle with earlier in the trip. Preventive medicine works wonders!

Our friends on Zucchini had told us it was worth stopping at Butedale, even though it is a falling down mess of old cannery ruins. It sounded interesting, and the caretaker was reputed to be friendly and inventive. So off we went. As we approached, you could see what used to be a thriving settlement and cannery. There is a lovely large waterfall, and then the main area with all the buildings. On first approach, it was tough to see where the right dock was, but it came clear when we saw the gangway to shore.

"Welcome" to Butedale

Butedale is a mixture of collapsed structures or soon to be collapsed structures

We were the only boat there, and as we were tying up to the docks which were sturdy but had no bull rails, just metal eye hooks. Cory the “new” caretaker came down to greet us. Cory is working as a caretaker with Lou, the longstanding Butedale caretaker, with hopes of taking over for Lou when we retires. Cory’s greeting party consisted of Burt the dog and Tiger the cat, a big orange male who was super friendly.

The dock is solid, despite your first impression. I've paid $1 a foot for a less sturdy tie

Cory took us on a great guided tour of Butedale – which was not only needed for the inside information about what we were looking at, but also to keep us safe. There is a lot of stuff that is falling down and not OSHA certified. “Enter at your own risk” signs made sense to me.

We saw the power plant, with the 2 turbines from 1939, and how they had it rigged to provide some electricity to the cookhouse where Cory and Lou live. We walked up to the “flume”, which Lou and a friend built several years ago when the old pipeline failed and water was needed to keep the power going. It is an engineering feat, that’s for sure. We then saw the two old houses that are rented out to the occasional kayaker or small boat captain, and the large warehouse that housed a makeshift bowling alley.

Cory leads the way into the power plant

The water from the lake arrives in the powerhouse and is controlled by this massive valve

All the force of the water now drives a small alternator

The handmade flume seems to spill more than it carries, but it works!

Butedale’s history was interesting, and it’s hard to believe that it was still running about 30-40 years ago. Time has certainly taken its toll. Lou and Cory do their best to hold back time, but they hope for a new owner (Butedale is for sale) to infuse the place with cash and dreams.

One of the many buildings whose fate is undeniable

We're standing at the end of the warehouse that abuts the shore. The open end is falling into the sea.

The makeshift bowling alley

“I know I put it here someplace in the warehouse”

Each day, a little more is reclaimed by Mother Nature

Cory ended the tour at the cookhouse. We met Lou, who was making and then enjoying his breakfast, and we saw lots of old pictures of Butedale before it started to decay. Apparently, when it was abandoned, the lights were left on, so it was a true ghost town. Cory said fishermen used to tie up and take showers because the boilers were left working as well – at least they worked for a while.

The cook house, home to Cory and Lou, keeps warm with 100 cords of wood a year

Lou is a character. He and Cory get their provisions from Kitimat, and they have a great story about losing the engine on Christmas Day on their way up Douglas Channel, and having to wait in 5’ seas for the Coast Guard auxiliary to rescue them, as the Coasties had to be roused from their Christmas plans to come to work!

Lou does some really cool carving art, and we bought a nice one of a killer whale. We enjoyed our time at Butedale, and think it’s definitely a worthwhile stop. Plus, it was good to stretch our legs, we were feeling a bit boat-bound!

Lou at work in his artists studio

Lou is very skilled in his craft

A photo of Butedale in its prime

Back in the boat, we headed north. I worked on blog updates, while Bob helmed. After about an hour or so and following a great lunch of meatloaf sandwiches, we traded spots. Bob took a nap while I enjoyed helm duties on an overcast but calm day. Even Wright Sound was peaceful and flat as we made our way to Hawk Bay.  At one point, I saw a pleasure boat go by… it was the same boat from last night’s anchorage. I was pleased to see it heading at full tilt boogie to a different destination from ours, white wake flying from the boat as it went by.

Just us and the grand Pacific Northwest

We knew Hawk Bay was just a place to sleep, and were not expecting much in the way of scenery. We were right. There was a bottom sampling barge in the bay, but it was otherwise empty and we dropped the hook and settled in about 5pm.

Dinner was curried chicken salad and Bob’s homemade drop biscuits, and an early night.

Khutze Inlet

Today was a planned lay day, and we wanted to kayak up the Khutze River as far as we could at high tide. Energized by coffee and bacon sandwiches, we headed out at 9:40am. We were out over two hours and had a great paddle. We went over the mudflats and into the river, which was fairly wide and full of current that made paddling feel a bit like we were in molasses instead of water.

This is why kayaking back home always seems to be something less majestic.

We saw some waterfalls, and seals, and lots of birds and waterfowl. No bear or bear prints in the mud that we could see, although you KNOW they were there somewhere. The valley is pretty and extensive. At one point, the river was almost blocked by fallen trees, but we got around those. Later, though, our path was blocked about a wide swath of boulders and rapids and shallow water.

Karen puts Bob in the lead when there is an obstruction to navigate. Am I a trusted skilled kayaker, or sacrificial pawn?

We turned around and enjoyed the push of the river current as we made our way back. We detoured over by the large waterfall, and were tracked by curious seals. I saw an inuschuck someone made on a large rock near the base of the waterfall. It was lovely out, and we enjoyed the paddle.

Some industrious individual built this inuschuck at the base of the waterfall

Before we got back to the boat, The Connor J came back into the anchorage and picked up his prawn pots. He made no wake. After we got back to the boat, it became colder and windier – the weather was changing again.

Prawn boat Connor J picks up his posts after a 24hr soak

This seal stayed close, but not too close. His was fascinated by us.

Karen poses in front of the waterfall

Bob gets his turn at the “postcard” spot

We expected to spend the evening alone, but about 8pm a boat came FLYING into the anchorage at full tilt boogie. To protect the skipper’s identity, I will only say that the boat’s name had to do with fly fishing and it was from a ritzy suburb in Illinois. Despite the implied fishing ability and high income land-dwelling, this fellow had no common courtesy when it came to entering an anchorage. He waked us so badly that we had worse yawing and rolling motion than anything Cape Caution or Queens Sound had served up. We rolled hard for quite a while, as his wake kept bouncing off the walls of the anchorage. I was not a happy camper and mumbled nasties under my breath.

No sooner had he anchored off the waterfall (guess he had a GPS location , because he did absolutely no soundings or anchor circles before dropping the anchor at warp speed), the group started to fish off the back of the boat. He later went into full reverse at anchor to drop a few pots off the back of the boat before killing the engines and letting the anchor chain pull the boat forward away from the pots and the line. His radar was going – and going – and kept going all night long. Nice neighbors.

We enjoyed pork tenderloin with onion balsamic glaze for dinner and watched “Body of Lies”, which was truly a forgettable movie despite Leo de Caprio and Russell Crowe in the lead roles. Tomorrow’s destination? Butedale, and beyond!

Horsefly Cove (Green Inlet) to Khutze Inlet

We had another early call, as the tides and currents said that an early departure would make the best travel to Khutze. Unfortunately, an early call after last night’s anchor watch was a bit difficult! Still, we decided to get up and go.

We retrieved the stern tie with no problems, and headed out Tolmie Channel and Graham Reach for Khutze. The only problem was that riding the favorable currents meant that we’d arrive at Khutze at high tide. Khutze is another anchorage with mud flats and silt from the Khutze River and the waterfall, so it meant that finding the elusive anchor spot would be more challenging than at low tide.

As we headed north, we saw the old cannery ruins in Swanson Bay, but no one showed up on AIS. As we neared the entrance to Khutze Inlet, a small fishing dinghy came tearing out and made a line for us. He wanted to know if we’d seen a white prawn boat in the vicinity. Bob had noticed it behind us by a few miles, and he shared that with the dinghy driver, who sped off to the south. As we entered Khutze, it started to clear some. We passed Green Spit anchorage, which to us seemed kind of ho-hum, unless you just needed a place right off the major pass to lay down the hook. We continued to the head, encountering dissipating fog.

Fog was giving way as we enter Khutze

The head of Khutze is lovely, with a very large green valley sandwiched between mountains. There is a very pretty waterfall on the right (as you face the head) and the Khutze River empties to the left. Finding the anchor spot was a challenge….it was quite deep, and then the mudflats came up sharply. Bob’s diligent plotting coupled with my adding marks to the electronic charts with depths helped us see the spot. We dropped 300’ in 100’ of water and set the hook well. Based on our calculations, we would never swing into water less than 40’ deep.

Bob took a short nap to fight off the ills of the previous night’s anchor watch, while I read all day.  It was cool out, but not windy, and there were lots of seals and gulls to watch, along with an occasional eagle. As the tide went out, the picture was so very different. You could clearly see the mudflats as well as the uncharted silt spits emanating from the Khutze River and also over by the waterfall. At anchor, we were often dive-bombed by swallows – three of them kept coming over to the boat and trying to fly in the windows. We had to close them to keep the darned things out. And we were once again visited by a hummingbird, though the closed windows also kept him from coming inside to say hello.

Anchored opposite this tall waterfall made for a pleasing sound all the while we were in Khutze

Later that afternoon, the white prawn boat (accompanied by the same dinghy we had seen that morning) came into the anchorage. Her name was The Connor J, from Nan., BC (Nanaimo?). She set a long string of prawn pots abeam us, and it was fun to watch the process.  That was probably the activity highlight of the day!

Dinner was salmon gorgonzola with fusilli and a few lemon cookies and two more extremely good episodes of The Good Wife, and then bed.  A peaceful night in a glorious spot.