Back in B.C.

Sunrise behind us as we set off to cross Dixon Entrance. 

FINAL DAYS OF S.E. ALASKA

Since I last posted we have been ambling South, as planned. We’ve discovered that the yacht-y crowds have dwindled. We’re bringing in the rear. The small communities with seasonal stores have let their vegetable stocks dwindle. By this time, we saw one other recreational boat a day while we’re underway. 

When our anchoring and marinas have synced, we have been meeting up with new boat-y friends, which is a great break from Mike looking at Elaine, looking at Mike, in the same pilot house, on the same boat. We’ve learned about about their home bases, Olympia, WA and Poulsbo, WA. We’re going to keep asking questions along these lines to people we meet. We will eventually need to nest somewhere during 6 months of the year in the U.S. 

NORTH COAST OF B.C.

We crossed around Dixon Entrance, piloting from Ketchikan, AK (U.S.) back to Prince Rupert, B.C., (Canada). By waiting an extra day or so to optimize weather, we were able to minimize swells. I didn’t need to Dramamine it.(1) 

Again, we cruised down long, narrow (about .25 mile/.4 km wide) channels that seem too straight to be natural. These are the same inside passage highways we took going North. Again, we watch beautiful, dense, green fir trees rising up moderately tall mountains with occasional waterfalls dropping back down, as we move through the water. We see fewer whales and sea otters. This makes a sighting more special. We sense our trip is coming to an end.

We’ve stayed in so many coves over these last few weeks. Each one was uniquely magical, often enveloped in layers of lacy fog. To keep things short, I’ve created a laundry list of stays below.

- Baker Inlet, anchor. Winding narrow, blind opening to a large inlet surrounded by tall, wooded cliffs.

Baker Inlet—dead calm, reflection of lacy, layered fog.

- Hartley Bay, marina. First Nations community with wooden boardwalks for roads—all had ATVs or golf carts to scoot around.

- Bishop Springs Provincial Marine Park. Natural hot springs with manmade, concrete tubs overlooking the bay. Lots of cheerful locals on weekend family trips. 

- Bottleneck Inlet, anchor. Same beautiful, convenient stop we stayed at on the way North, along a very long passage.

…At this point we watched weather forecasts to time our final Cape Caution crossing with minimal swell…

- Shearwater, marina. We returned to this First Nations village to get fuel.

- Codeville Bay, anchor.

We finally did some crabbing. Dinner: dungeness crab.

- Pruth Bay, anchor. We returned to the same island — the Haikai Institute with great beaches. Here’s a drone video of us walking (near bottom of screen).

One of the boardwalks on walk to the North beach at Haikai Island.

- Fury Cove, anchor.

Fury Cove—Mike’s drone shot of boats waiting for favorable tide the next morning. 

…Eight hour transit from Fury Cove, around Cape Caution, then down protected waters to our next one-nighter anchorage in Claydon Bay, in “The Broughton’s” islands. In the most dramatic parts we experienced a 5 foot swell with 2 foot wind waves. I decided before we left to take Dramamine, on top of my Relief Band, and I felt fine. This much up and down and back and forth is not uncomfortable or scary in our boat, but it demands our attention while underway. 

THE BROUGHTONS

- Claydon Bay, anchor.

- Viner Inlet, anchor. We left for Echo Bay, a small community, for a worthwhile afternoon at the locally famous Billy’s Museum. Billy is a retired fisherman who has a mighty collection of First Nations artifacts, old equipment, shells and even bottles. He’s an encyclopedia of local stories.

- Burial Cove, anchor. Not at all spooky, by the way. We departed as soon as it was light to make our way down infamous Johnstone Strait. It’s a wide body of water that is part of all Inside Passage journeys. It’s notorious for larger waves due to prevailing winds opposing currents. We found it fairly glassy, and we timed our passage with a flood, to give our slow boat a slight push. 

DESOLATION SOUND

- Campbell River, marina. It was time for a final provisioning, laundry and a beer at their pub at this large town. We ruminated on what we wanted to do with our final cruising days. Desolation Sound was a must—but it was starting to get a lot of wildfire smoke from the fires hundreds of miles East. We also started talking about logistics for selling Unwine’d and where we’d go next on our way to buying a boat for The Great Loop. 

- Roscoe Bay, Desolation Sound, anchor. Definitely not desolated—about 20 boats anchored as this is a day’s cruise from Vancouver. Pleasant afternoon at the freshwater lake, inland.

- Melanie Cove, Desolation Sound, anchor. Another pleasant afternoon at their freshwater lake. Lots of boaters from Vancouver and Seattle. Impromptu, enjoyable concert by a super-talented guitar-playing boater in the evening. We joined about 30 dinghy’s surrounding the performer’s stern deck.

Unwin Lake at Desolation Sound. That’s me, happily floating in the fresh water.

SUNSHINE COAST

We intended to return to Princess Louisa Inlet, where we last went in 1990’s. It would have been, a 2-day, out-of-the-way trek. This is a sort of Mecca for Northwest boaters because of its beauty, and the somewhat arduous journey it requires. In order to do this, we had to start from the small community of Egmont, which already took us 7 hours to get there. However, the Egmont marina was full and there were no nearby comfortable anchorages. So sadly, we scrapped our plans for Mecca. Perhaps we go there in a few years.

- Pender Harbor, anchor. This is a large town, but we really didn’t need to provision, get fuel or water, so we just dingy’d to shore for a dinner. It was also a protected spot to endure a night-long lightening storm. Don’t you worry—we were cozy inside Unwine’d. It wasn’t terribly windy, either. 

- Smuggler Cove Provincial Marine Park, anchor.

WHAT’S NEXT

We’re going to be tourists at Pirate’s Cove Provincial Marine Park, Decourcy Island, a.k.a. Home Sweet Home!

FOOTNOTES FOR FUN FACT FANS

(1) I’m using something new: a Relief Band. So far, I’m a convert, although I don’t think it will get me through the biggest swell days. I definitely recommend it for anyone who has to deal with nausea, for whatever reason. 

Natural Warm Springs & Foggy Day

 

Beguiling boardwalk that slices through Baranof Warm Springs, to upper cabins, the lake and the natural hot springs. 

BARANOF HOT SPRINGS

The commonality among Baranof Warm Springs residents is that they are clean. Like 1-3 baths-a-day, clean. In addition, their defining qualities are that they are welcoming and industrious. 

We have been looking forward to seeing Mike’s tennis buddy’s cabin and visiting his community for a while. It was a little difficult to plan because we could only estimate the window that we could arrive. (1) Mike’s buddy, Fenton, had to plan when to fly in from California. Obviously, it all worked out, because we got to experience all that Baranof Warm Springs has to offer.

This was my first visit to a hot springs. I wasn’t sure what to expect. First of all, there is an enormous waterfall that skirts one side of the community. It originates at a lake about a mile from the bay. 

Fenton led us on the wood boardwalk up towards the lake, until the boardwalk turned into an occasional wood plank. 

A sign marks a fork in the trail: left to the springs, right to the lake. We first visited the natural springs. We’re not sure how hot they were, but it was too hot for me. We know other people love it, however. Then we pushed on to the lovely lake. 

Mike and Fenton at the hot springs hole. It’s probably been there for over 100 years, lined with rocks. Behind it is the cold, rushing water of the top of the waterfall.

At the peaceful, clear lake, beyond the hot springs. Not a soul in sight.

Back at the community we saw the products of their industry. Probably miles of tubing delivered hot and cold water to each cabin. Each cabin also has all the normal trappings of off-grid living, like we have at Decourcy. Each of their charming cabins has a unique view of the cove. 

The shared boardwalk in front of the waterfront cabins at Baranof Warm Springs.

We happened to be there a day of a party, so we were able to learn more about some of their origin stories. Some were from the town of Sitka, which is directly West, on the opposite side of Baranof Island. There is a busy fishing lodge at Baranof. It’s obvious they take pride their community and their little piece of paradise. (2)

The community also built a bathhouse with 3 private tub rooms so that visitors can soak away the griminess and aches of their trips to get there. They provided this from their own pockets. They don’t charge a fee, although they have a donation box. Fenton told us about the recent work they did on the bathhouse, in addition to recent work on his property and his neighbors’. Their signage, walkways and bathhouse make visitors feel wanted and safe.

The community-built 3-room bathhouse (with the greenish curtains in front of each). It’s along a boardwalk that encircles the cove. (3)

While I’m no rule-follower, I did follow these! I left it cleaner than I found it. And it was very clean when I found it.

Your view into 2 of the bathing rooms. Each tub has a controllable hot and cold spigot. No windows to impair your view. And no one lives on the other side of the cove.

The small and seasonal community of Baranof Hot Springs reminded me a bit of Decourcy Island. It’s a tight knit group of people who are very resourceful. One big difference is that the residents live peacefully alongside brown, hairy residents—the bears. 

FOGGY BOATING

After our sojourn in Baranof Warm Springs, we really wanted to visit Sitka, which we heard and read about, but decided that would add about 6 long days to our entire trip, so we continued South, back towards British Columbia. 

We stayed in Alaska-beautiful inlets for a couple nights (4) until our good luck with the weather began to change. As we headed out for a 4-hour cruise to little Petersburg, we immediately hit fog. We know from experience that fog can hang low, hang high, be a strip across your path or settle in across a whole strait. We had no way of knowing what we were in for.

The view of fog as we approached the exit of the inlet we just stayed overnight in. Picture it flowing and ethereal.

We carefully planned for fog, with technology solutions. We also have some experience in San Francisco Bay with using the technology to get us through safely. It’s crucial to avoid other boats, especially cruise ships, who can’t change direction or stop for a boat like us. 

The technology.
On the left, 2 iPads which have zoom-in-able and out-able charts (aka a chartplotter). We will always know our position. On the right is the radar. This is a primary way we identify other boats and land. No matter how foggy it gets, we have these eye-enhancing tools.

The wildcard in this case is colliding with humpback whales. For the last few weeks we saw whales either singly or in groups every hour or so. We often took zig-zagging paths to avoid them. No technology can “see” them for us. It’s not just uncool to hurt a humpy. A bump can also damage our boat, even in a debilitating way. This was probably the most dangerous situation we had been in during this entire trip. 

Foggy view directly in front. We couldn’t even estimate how far ahead we could see. The water reflected the shade of grey so there was no horizon. At one point, we said now we understood why men go mad in the fog. And think you can fall off the Earth.

View out the port side door. It was glassy calm, so the only reflection was of fog. We could see blue sky above, which was a little frustrating. There was no way to see humpback whales in this soup.

After about 2 hours of fog at 7 mph, the fog magically parted. We came through and saw snowcapped Alaskan mountains, blue waters and felt the sunshine. 

Within minutes we saw an amazing sight: dozens of humpback spouts about 1-2 miles Southwest of us, between us and shoreline. What joy it was to be out of monotonous, dangerous fog and to witness what looked like a miracle. After being so careful, we deviated towards the humpbacks, giving them plenty of room, to watch their romps and tricks. Mike caught much of this on video.

Do humpbacks prefer to be out of the fog too? We learned that while orcas use sonar like other marine mammals, humpbacks use sight. So there might be some truth to this.

FOOTNOTES FOR FUN FACT FANS

(1) Between Juneau and Baranof Warm Springs we had a some great brushes with nature. Here’s a video Mike took of yours truly running Nautica outside of Ell Cove. We just caught a Coho salmon and wanted to check out the waterfall. 

(2) Baranof Warm Springs’ history echos much of the history of other communities in Southeast Alaska. After the native people were reduced in number, settlers moved in during the late 1800s with the Alaska Klondike gold rush, then with the growth of the timber industry and then with the growth of Pacific canneries. After that, many communities became ghost towns until locals cleared out plots and rebuilt quant cabins and fishing lodges. At one time, Baranof Warm Springs had perhaps twice as many people and cabins there and there was a bridge over the waterfalls. 

(3) Below the boardwalk and dock were multitudes of salmon fry. Mike took this video of a seal swimming through the school, having a snack. 

(4) In one of the inlets, Pybus Bay, we had incredible bear encounters. At an opportune moment, we were scanning the shore a noticed rocks moving. It was 3 cubs and big bear.  They hung out in the creek outlet for a while. Mike managed to pull out his drone and got some overhead bear footage here. Later on, we also saw a momma bear with two playful twins.