Day 18 - Polkinghorne Islands to Drury Inlet

We woke up to a haunting fog surrounding the boat. Thick, and grey, and heavy. Deep silence all around us, with no wind movement and no visibility in any direction. We were not very far from shore, our memories told us. But now we could not see past the end of the bow or the stern.

Our range of visibility opened up a little bit over breakfast. We still couldn’t safely pull up the anchor, but we could have fun in the dingy checking out the little islands all around us. First Cap’n Adam had to row the dinghy through a tangle of kelp at mouth of our little bay. Then we dingied at low-throttle wherever we could. And we found a huge tidal lagoon with its own waterfall.

Returning to our bay, still in the thick fog and back through the forest of kelp, we noticed a few seals sitting on a submerged rock. As we passed by, several tiny seal heads popped up all around them. Soon there were about a dozen or so sets of sea dog eyes, ranging from very small to fully grown, watching our movements. So this is the quiet and special we felt coming in here last night – there are at least a few litters of seals, with their mommas! A seal nursery!

We quietly returned to the boat, and watched for an hour or so as the fog slowly lifted. Sitting on the bow of the boat, I was entertained by 3 young seal pups, popping their heads up ever closer to the boat. They seemed to be playing a game of chicken, each one getting a little closer than the last one had. Before too long, it was only 1 baby seal who kept closing in. I sat as still as I could. It finally freaked itself out on its last attempt, and splashed away dramatically. I giggled silently to myself, and hoped they would return, but their game was over.

After lunch we were ready to continue on our way. Today we decided to leave the archipelago a bit, and explore Drury Inlet of the coastal mainland. With our regal crown mountains still ahead as our bearing, we motored to the mouth of the inlet. We passed through Stuart Narrows, which we were cautious of as the tidal current can get very strong there. We will have to time our journey back out of this inlet for the same reason.

Now don’t get me wrong, all of British Columbia is beautiful. But entering Drury Inlet (more like, “Dreary Inlet”) we felt an instant shift. The trees looked a little more wind beaten and haggard. The flat strips of land on either side of the inlet have been logged a few times, their scars are not hidden. The rolling gentle landscape of the Broughton Archipelago was replaced with some hard-angled and functional coastline. We had left the magic of the village of islands.

We found a nice spot to throw down the anchor, in a cluster of small islets called the Muirhead Islands. But we both agreed that we would head back out into the archipelago tomorrow, as soon as the fog and the tidal current allowed us to go.

Day 17 afternoon - Port McNeill to Polkinghorne Islands

We finally pushed off the gas dock at Port McNeill about 3:00 PM. Our destination was the Polkinghorne Islands, on the other side of Queen Charlotte Strait. I’m not sure what the technical definition of a “strait” is, but I do know that they are big commitments if you want to cross one in a boat. The Georgia Strait. Johnstone Strait. Juan de Fuca Strait. And now, Thunderpussy was about to cross a new one, Queen Charlotte Strait. Queen Charlotte Strait is where the Pacific Ocean flows into the inner waters of British Columbia. It should probably be called Haida Gwaii Strait now to pay proper respect, just like how the Island names were officially changed to reflect their cultural heritage. But then you would have to change all of the nautical charts currently being used, so what can you do?

Coming around the western tip of Malcolm Island we saw a lighthouse, one of the few which are still manned. From there it was an open expanse of the sea, with a distinctive snow-tipped crown of volcanic peaks far in the distance on the coastal mainland as our bearing.

We knew from listening to the marine weather forecast that we should expect increasing westerly winds, up to 20 knots. That is just about perfect for us to sail. We pretty much had the strait all to ourselves, not another boat was to be seen during the 2 hours or so that we had both the jib and the mainsail up, cruising along at about 7.5 knots. We sailed at a lovely beam reach, the sails (and Cap’n Adam) kept themselves perfectly trimmed, all of our telltales flying freely.

Sailing used to really confuse me. I would haul on lines as directed, but mostly just tried to keep out of the way. After our Cooper Basic Cruising course, I get it. I know we have to unfurl the jib before we trim it with the jib sheets. I know I can help hoist the mainsail if I haul on the halyard near the mast while Cap’n Adam winches it in from the helm. Then we trim the mainsail with the mainsheet, swinging the boom around with the traveller. The white ropes, the blue ropes, the red ropes, and the green ropes. I get what they do now.

After an exhilarating surf of the wind over the sea, we came around the south corner of the Polkinghorne Islands, fired up the motors and pulled down the sails. Quickly the atmosphere changed, and we knew we had entered somewhere special and kind of quiet again. On low throttle we found a tranquil bay to throw down the hook, just as the sun was setting. A few seals popped their heads out of the glassy water, checking out who had just arrived. Gulls and a few herons glided silently overhead. We were exhausted after a full day, and we found the most peaceful place to rest and sleep.