day 9 – Sea Otter Cove to Quatsino Sound, Browning Inlet (Lo50°30.0’L128°04.5’)

The crew felt fully recovered from yesterday’s adventure, and we were ready to hit the seas again. This time some arrangements for the journey were made ahead of time – lunch and snacks were pre-planned so no preparation in the galley had to happen at sea. The waters that we crossed yesterday around Cape Scott point were bubbly and confused as the southeast flowing current from the Pacific Ocean and Queen Charlotte Sound crashes into the tip of Vancouver Island. These were the crazy seas we met yesterday. From our departure point this morning, we were back into the smoother flowing southeast current. Sunny skies, perfect winds and both sails hoisted made for a hypnotizing day on the swell. There is most definitely a rhythm to the sea – ride the wave, rock back and forth at the bottom of the trough, wait for the next wave. Up. Down. Rock side to side. Up. Down. Rock side to side. In a catamaran, at least we don’t also keel side to side like mono-hulled boats do. With an increasing northwesterly wind at our backs, we reached a top speed of about 9.3 knots just before we arrived in Quatsino Sound. A significant increase from our average of about 5.5 knots when under power. No crew members were sick today, although I did feel pretty nappy at about the 4 hour mark, just before we found the calmer waters of the sound and just after the winds increased from about 10 to about 20 knots. Even at that speed, somehow Armin was able to troll a Chinook salmon off the stern, which about 20 minutes later we began eating. Then we ate it again for dinner. As we pulled into Browning Inlet, we saw an adult bear foraging on the shore, bald eagles soaring overhead and perching in treetops, and otters floating on their backs. But no other boats. We anchored just outside a tidal bed. We(well, I) learned the hard way about conserving power on the boat. Do not use heating elements (toasters, etc…) unless the motors are running, they consume way too much battery power. There was just enough juice left to fire up one motor, barely, so we had dinner by candle light and an early evening.

day 8 – Hope Island to Sea Otter Cove (Lo50°40.7’L128°20.8’)

Fogust. That’s what the locals call this time of year. The night was damp, cool and soupy; we awoke to thick fog in our protected harbour. Our VHF radio’s weather broadcast told us that our intended route had zero visibility, but small waves and a light wind. After firing up the radar system, and confirming that we could indeed use it to see any other boats through the fog, we decided to set out for our first time to the open Pacific Ocean. If it was too intense, we could either turn back or just go a short way to another protected cove not too far away. Within a very short time I realized it was going to be a lumpy trip, so I strapped on my anti-motion-sickness-pressure-point-electric-pulse-wristband-thing. The 5 hours or so that it took us to round Cape Scott and start heading south down the west side of Vancouver Island took a toll on the crew. The waves were not as big as some we’ve experienced already this trip, but the ocean swell is a much different thing than the chop of water inside the western-most coastline. It felt as if a strong set of hands cupped my face, a voice whispered in my ear that it was time to sleep now, and despite my best efforts I was forced to succumb to a deep slumber in the peaks and valleys of the sea. As shallow as they were. Mercifully I was nausea-free. And the fog was not that bad. 2 other crew members tried to fight the power and make lunch in the galley. The first ended up losing his breakfast off of the stern (our first puker! ever!), and the other ended up passing out in the salon with one eye open. Kind of creepy. Our other crew member spent most of the day tucked safely into her bunk, riding out the heaves under her blankets with her eyes closed. Thankfully, Cap’n Adam never seems to get sea-sick, and as always brought us to our anchorage safe and sound. Once anchored, it was time to officially welcome the new crew members, who earned their red toques today in the Pacific swell. Newfoundland Screech shots all around. Sea Otter Cove, just south of the northwest tip of Vancouver Island, is a special safe haven. Three otters drifted over to us just after we dropped anchor, purring and clicking and tumbling and tickling each other and just being so damn cute with their little fingers and whiskers and their back feets sticking out of the water as they checked us out. An hour or so dinghy exploration by 2 of the crew resulted in 2 beautiful ling cod, and the biggest filled all of our bellies for dinner. A lovely protected spot, but we can still see the Pacific rollers over the short rock breakwater that protects the Cove.

day 7 - Cormorant Channel Marine Park to Hope Island (Lo50°55.0’L127°55.0’)

At the crack of dawn our captain was up ‘n Adam, raising anchor and firing up the engines at 06:00 so that we could be to our first destination by 08:30. Today was a day of transition. Our first week’s crew was a multi-generational one. Cap’n Adam’s parents, Sveinn & Anne, had been caravanning with us since day 1 in their own boat. Today they turned south to begin their homeward journey. Our dear Canadian - Costa Rican friends, Rodrigo & Yesenia, and their three energetic niňos, had also been with us since departure. Today they hopped on a bus in Port McNeill headed home to Vancouver. As we bid our farewells and see-you-soons, we also said our hellos to Armin and Julie, our new crew for the next leg of the journey. After getting groceries, ice and beverages in Port McNeill, and after the 3 remaining crew had their well-deserved warm onshore showers, we untied and headed north and west, past Port Hardy and through Queen Charlotte Strait, then through Goletus Channel to Hope Island. On Hope Island is the stunning Bull Harbour, the last protected alcove before the open expanse of the Pacific Ocean. The steep walls of this sheltered refuge from the sea are pock-marked with dark caves. The rains were gently falling from grey foggy skies as we glided into harbour on low throttle. Towering spires rose out at the shoreline, the land seems to have a spirit of its own. And tomorrow – we head west and then south on the other side…