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WAGGONER CRUISE, WEEK FIVE
by Bob Hale
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PRINCE RUPERT, JULY 9 -- We lend assistance, twice. A week ago we left Shearwater, near Bella Bella on the central B.C. coast, at 1315 under gray skies but thankfully, no rain. That didn’t last long. Soon the rain began, and fog lay ahead. Westbound in Seaforth Channel, visibility grew less and less. Radar on. Glad for the computer navigation program on the laptop. Watch the little green boat move along the chart on the computer screen, between the buoys and away from the rocks.
A sailboat following us either knew the area better or didn’t understand the buoys, because it drove right over a charted rock patch. To be fair, the buoys that mark the rock patch can be confusing. West of Lama Passage in Seaforth Channel, the buoyage system believes that Red, Right, Returning is Returning from south to north. It holds to this belief despite the fact that westbound vessels are looking squarely at the Pacific Ocean, with incoming swells to prove it. The rock patch is marked by a green buoy on the north side and a red buoy on the south side. It would be easy to assume the safe channel is between the two buoys—if the chart isn’t examined, showing Dall Rocks are there.
But the tide was less than two hours from a 13.1-foot high, and I guess there was plenty of water. Shortly afterward, the sailboat turned north and went toward Troup Passage.
But I wander from my story. We were bound for the village of Klemtu, about 40 miles from Shearwater. To get to Klemtu, Milbanke Sound must be dealt with. We had fog and rain but no wind, which sounds good for crossing Milbanke Sound. What we didn’t have was a favorable weather forecast. In short, Gale Warning. Rather than risk getting caught in Milbanke Sound, we turned for Reid Passage, which, after about a mile of open water and swells, connects with Perceval Narrows and Mathiason Channel, protected by islands.
It was at the north end of Reid Passage, where Cod Reef must be identified and left to port, that we lent our first assistance of the afternoon. A handsome and well-equipped sailboat, perhaps 48 feet long, had cut its power and waited for our approach. The skipper called on the radio and told us the GPS connection to their navigation computer had just failed. High tide covered Cod Reef. Would we be kind enough to lead him past the rocks and across to Perceval Narrows, the gateway to protection? The answer, of course, was certainly.
On the way across, they changed computers and got the nav program working again. But they were grateful for the help. (Important lesson for us: All computers on board should be loaded with the nav program and charts. If the primary nav computer goes down, a replacement is available.)
The second assist was about an hour later. We came upon a capable-looking trawler about 55 feet long, the style that is advertised in PassageMaker Magazine, acting uncertain. We called on the radio and learned that the fog had disoriented the skipper. He needed to know, first, if he was in Mathiason Channel; second, he needed to know where Oscar Passage was. He thought Oscar Passage was south, and had begun heading in that direction. We told him Oscar Passage actually was about 4 miles north and offered to lead him, an offer he accepted at once. When Oscar Passage, barely visible through the rain and fog, was abeam to port, we called the boat with the information. The skipper said he had thought it was Oscar Passage, thanked us for our help, and left us.
We didn’t make it to Klemtu that afternoon. The day was growing late and hunger was setting in. We anchored in Rescue Bay at the east end of Jackson Passage, a few miles from Klemtu. A short time after anchoring, Charlie and Terri Champaine, the new owners of the Silva Bay Inn at Silva Bay, came in and anchored. After supper, Charlie motored the dinghy over through the rain with their two dogs—a shore trip for the dogs. He told us he’d listened to the radio chatter between our boat and the disoriented boat, and said some very nice things about it. Then he pulled the starter cord and said to the dogs, “Let’s find the girls’ room,” and headed for the beach.
Shearwater. Shearwater, the crossroads of the central B.C. coast, is open and running. Our supper in the restaurant was good. The laundromat and showers are clean and in good condition. The fuel dock pumps fuel. The store is well stocked (for a small store), with a nice selection of spirits in the liquor store. The Travelift haulout and shipyard are running. The marine supply store has boating supplies and charts. Shearwater is a Honda agency. There was no dock manager when we stopped on our way north, but on our way south we found Jean and Wayne Bowerman, who helped out one summer at Lagoon Cove Marina, as Shearwater dock managers. Jean was just settling in, figuring out how to squeeze boats tightly together without ruffling feathers, and get the best use from the docks. She’s a real sweetheart.
Klemtu. As reported elsewhere on this Web site, the visitor dock at the Native village of Klemtu has been re-anchored and now is safe. We met Doug Neasloss, who is running eco-tours, taking visitors to where the bears and wolves are, and explaining Native cultural traditions. Doug is well-spoken, bright, and energetic. He’s also a fine wildlife photographer. His images of the white “Spirit” bears are superb. Francis Robinson still provides tours of the Big House. If Francis isn’t available, others are. The fuel dock has fuel. The manager’s name is Ernie. Telus/Verizon has cell phone coverage. Our visit was somewhat hurried, but those who spend a few days in Klemtu and get to know the residents have good things to say about the experience.
Butedale. This once-great cannery site may be going back to Nature, but Lou Simoneau, the caretaker, is fighting back. “Butedale Lou,” some call him, and “the Mayor of Butedale.” The docks and surroundings are rough, but Lou is a warm and fascinating host. Lou’s 15-year-old granddaughter, Kandice, was there for the summer, with her friend Brianna. They came down from Kitimat.
Kitimat. At long last we motored up Douglas Channel to Kitimat, where we spent a night at the MK Bay Marina. Visitor boats are assigned to D dock, the first dock as you enter. The 40-foot inside slips will take boats to about 45 feet in length. Longer boats will side-tie on the outside of the dock. The side-tied boats will need good fenders. Afternoon inflow winds kick up waves, even with the log breakwater to knock them down. The winds die in the evening.
D dock doesn’t have enough shore power connections. We and another visitor boat had to rely on our generators for 120-volt power. The modern store has a good supply of boating necessities, including charts and books. The deli has a limited range of delicious baked goods, and pizzas. Kitmat is big-time fishing country, so the store has lots of fishing gear. The showers were clean, and the newly-remodeled and equipped laundry was beautiful. The fuel dock has gas, diesel and propane.
Hartley Bay. The tidy and prosperous-feeling Native village of Hartley Bay, at the south end of Grenville Channel, became famous one night a year ago last winter when the BC ferry Queen of the North failed to make a turn and ran up on nearby Gil Island, sinking in 1400 feet of water. Fish boats, work boats, speedboats and skiffs were mobilized at Hartley Bay, and they rescued the crew and all but two of the passengers from the sinking vessel. The village is built on a bog. Transport is on Honda or Yamaha quads (4-wheelers, ATVs, whatever) on wooden walkways built above the soft earth below. We were there for only an hour during a brief appearance of the sun, and took this picture.
Prince Rupert. In some ways, not much has changed at Prince Rupert. By evening the Prince Rupert Rowing & Yacht Club docks (the favored yachtie tie-up) are full. Boats on the outside of the outer float will bounce around in the wakes of passing traffic, and really bounce around in storm conditions. Reservations are a very good idea, especially for larger boats. Shopping at the Prince Rupert Safeway is outstanding. King Koin will do all the ship’s laundry for a fair price. King Koin seems like a long way uptown, but Marilynn walked up and back in a little less than 20 minutes each way, pulling our folding hand truck stacked with towels, bedsheets and our personal laundry. I was up at the golf course, losing brand-new little white golf balls in the woods. (If I plant enough, maybe they’ll grow?) Skeena Taxi service is virtually immediate. Five dollars, plus tip, will take you just about anywhere in town.
The Cow Bay Café is closed Sunday nights and all day Monday, so we had dinner there Saturday night. Terrific, as always. We had an excellent lunch Monday at the Crest Hotel, with its extraordinary view of the harbor, and we had a very workable dinner one night at Breakers Pub, overlooking the yacht club moorage.
Prince Rupert came precious close to dying about three years ago, what with mill closures, fishing fleet cutbacks and logging changes, but it’s beginning to look up again. The big deal now is the new container ship terminal. The docks you see will handle the largest container ships not just afloat, but the largest on the drawing boards. The cranes are due in late summer. They are taller than the Highliner Inn, the tallest building in Prince Rupert. The first ship arrivals are scheduled for this fall. Prince Rupert is 2-3 days closer to Asia than any other west coast port, and Canadian National Railway owns the tracks all the way to Memphis, Tennessee. Economic recovery is far from complete. Prince Rupert’s downtown commercial area still has too much empty space for rent and buildings for sale, but house prices are trending up and the people seem more optimistic.
The charter sport fishing fleet is busy and growing, mainly because customers bring back fish. See accompanying photo. We saw one salmon in the mid-50-pound range. It was huge. They bring in halibut, too.
Wireless Internet. Land line and cell phone coverage is spotty up here, but wireless Internet is available at most stops along the entire coast. Stops that don’t have land line connection bounce the Internet signal off a satellite, with limits on daily use. Don’t send or receive large files in these places.
Wireless is so neat, and so accessible, that “everyone” has it. The consequence is that in popular stops the available bandwidth is eaten up in the late afternoon and evening, and the system all but shuts down. Internet access that was instantaneous at 6:00 a.m. can be non-existent at 6:00 p.m. This is a case of technology running ahead of capacity.
Anchorages. The north coast has fewer facilities than farther south, so we’re able to anchor more often. I’ve always ducked the question when people ask our favorite stops, but I think I can reveal two of my favorite anchorages. They are Khutze Inlet, a half-day’s run north of Klemtu, and Nettle Basin in Lowe Inlet. Both anchorages are deep, but with good holding ground. Usually in Khutze Inlet we’re in about 100 feet. In Nettle Basin we’re always in 100 feet.
The anchorages are well protected, and both of them are surrounded by dramatic scenery. Khutze Inlet is dominated by waterfalls that snake down from snow fields on a mountain that towers above. Fabulous cliffs and mountains are on the opposite side. The Khutze River estuary is at the head of the anchorage, and mist forms over it in the evenings and in the mornings. We took some pictures that only hint at the beauty that surrounded us.
Nettle Basin is in Grenville Channel, just about where you’d want an anchorage on your way north or south. It too is surrounded by mountains, but the special drama in Nettle Basin is Verney Falls, which spill from Verney Lake, just behind. We’ve not seen the falls during a salmon run, but we’re told the sight of salmon fighting their way up is inspiring. Some boats anchor in front of the falls. Although the holding ground in front of the falls is poor, it’s good enough to keep a boat pointed into the current. Away from the falls the depths drop sharply to 100 feet, mud bottom, wonderful holding.
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