Enjoy the moment

It is June , or  with the rain and cold, possibly June-uary, and it is Sunday and it is the twenty-second and Mike and Janet arrive. Just like on schedule. They also arrive with sufficient food and beverage to care for the Argentine navy for a full fighting season. A new water line on the boat hull and a new notch in my belt will accommodate this little problem.

Monday AM and we are in hot pursuit of things that swim, excluding mermaids and the girls synchronized swim team, and as we have strong winds from the south-east we head north to the Work Channel. This makes for a somewhat smoother ride with a following sea. It is later in the day when we arrive at Trail Bay but there are a number of charter boats fishing the turn of the tide. We did note that although there were quite a number of these boats, there were not quite a number of them catching fish, but not t be outdone we too fished a great deal and caught not so many. Fortunately hunger and thirst overcame us and as the winds were still up, we hunkered down in Trail Bay for the night. When the sun is well up in the sky (if you could get a glimpse of the sun) we are back at work, fishing the shore, accompanied by still another cluster of charter boats. The difference this time is that although the other boats still appeared to be having limited luck and we had three in the bucket on the first tide. Rather than fish aimlessly until the next tide, we decided to drop anchor and have a little lunch. As we got ourselves settled, we noticed that most of the boats had left as well. No sooner had the girls prepared some tasty sandwiches and we made ourselves comfortable, when our solitude was broken by the sound of roaring engines along side our boat. This was accompanied by a major type wave as the high speed vessel of the fish Gestapo came abeam and requested to board our boat. Now I often wondered what would happen if one refused this request, but not wishing to be blown out of the water, or rammed or whatever it is that they might do, I readily complied with this request. Actually quite a nice young chappie, and as the ladies said “ he had nice dimples”. At any rate, he just wanted to see our licenses, and as we had actually had our catch marked in as we were supposed to, everything went quite well and we parted company on reasonably good terms.

Next AM we were alone in our fish pursuit and the weather reports were still not great. On the upside, the weather was supposed to get worse later in the day. With this in mind we decided to poke our nose out into Chatham Sound and make a decision at that time. As luck would have it, the water was not too cranky so we headed across Chatham to Dundas Islands. The water continued to “lay-down” and allowed us to quarter the waves and swells, for quite a pleasant crossing. Even Bonnie didn’t seem to notice the lumps in the water, as she and Janet discussed everything that was happening in “good old Dawson Creek”for most of the crossing. We set our prawn traps and shut it down for the day in a very secure moorage, locally known as “God’s Pocket”. More massive meals and good spirits and we are off to bed. One thing about these marathon eating binges is that with my increasingly rotund form, I can now rock myself to sleep by lying on my belly and letting the wave action propel me back and forth. Fishing is still nasty and we manage only a dinner fish and a good sized Ling cod. Back to God’s Pocket where we can listen to the rain thump on our roof. Oh yes, we did manage to get enough prawns to supplement the yearling cow that Mike tastefully prepared on the barbeque. Now for those of you who don’t know Mike, his idea of steaks for four, is to knock the hooves and horns off a fully grown grain fed beef, cut the remaining part into four equal sections and cook until medium rare. To eat one of these “puppies” is very nearly a career move, but I can assure you that it can be done. A new leisurely day, and the plan is to fish for a while and then cross back over Chatham and up into Tuck Inlet and a feed of fresh crab, prior to getting Mike and Janet back to Prince Rupert. First we once again pull the prawn trap, which once again was not so full as to make the pulling difficult, and then out into Chatham Sound to fish the east side of the Moffats. Now as logic would have it, this is the day for the fishing to pick up and we had scarcely dropped the hooks when we caught our first of five spring salmon. Next we managed to troll up a thirty pound halibut on Mike’s line. Certainly a pleasant change from the past several days. All this in two hours fishing. About this time I noticed that the water was starting to build and thought it prudent to get with it if we were crossing to Rupert. Each tick of the clock seemed to build the water a little more and after a rather short period of time I did a one-eighty and high tailed it back to God’s Pocket. Neither Janet nor Bonnie were enthused about a lumpy crossing and a Kermit the frog impression. It isn’t easy being green.

It seems that the plan of staying in the “pocket” was rather fortuitous as the winds gusted fifty, fifty-five most of the afternoon and a good part of the night and we soon had the company of other boaters in our safe-moorage spot.

The AM brought a change of wind direction and rippled water with low swells for our crossing. Perfect except for the fact that the sooner that we reach Prince Rupert, the sooner that we loose the company of some wonderful friends, whom we don’t get to see often enough. Enjoy the moment!!

New spots but no fish

Back in internet range and time for an update. Son Troy and his buddy Rick made a quick trip in our direction in hopes that all my spouting off about fish were not just more fish tales. The “tales” make thin soup. I am quite certain that had the weather been more co-operative, the fishing would have been much better, but we did manage to slay some of the finny critters. The winds kept us in a nice safe harbour (Brundidge) for the best part of one full day, but they still managed to go home with their limit of springs, but only one small halibut. Oh well, they will be bigger next time guys. As Rick was new to salmon fishing, we courteously let him catch the largest salmon and entitlement to the appropriate bragging rights. This was particularly gracious of Troy as it has been some time since he was fishing as well. Time just flew and the guys headed back to Woodinville — maybe just as well as both Troy and Rick are very accomplished when it comes to cooking, and I need gourmet meals every day like I need a good enema. Or maybe that is the only part of the gourmet feasting that I should have been having. At any rate we had a great time and certainly enjoyed the company and the culinary delights!

Had about a week before our good friends Mike and Jan Fraser join us from “good old Dawson Creek” and took advantage of the hospitality of our Sidney friends, Doug and Becky Trapp. Doug and Becky have spent many years in this area fishing and charter fishing, so are very familiar with all the little spots to hide out from rough water and the spots to sniff out the big fish. Can’t say enough good things in that they would take the time to show us some of their favorite spots as well as some “new to us” fishing spots. We spent several nights rafted up and sharing a libation or two and more gourmet cooking. Becky certainly knows her way around the galley. It seems that I am just magnetically drawn to people who prepare great food in an effort to make me fat. — too late, I beat them all to that. Doug not only shared fishing spots, but shared fishing pointers and I look forward to putting them into practice as I pursue the wily salmon. Now Becky quite enjoys hanging a hook into a halibut or two and told us about rafting with some friends of theirs in the little bay where we spent our first night. Apparently they and the friends, (well the ladies) had dropped a hook on the off chance of catching a halibut or two. Yes they did, an eighty pounder , and in twenty feet of water no less. As she was relating this story, she was rigging a line to set over the side for a repeat performance. As we all sharpened an eye with a liquid refreshment, there was some action on her line, but by the time she was able to grab the rod the line was broken and the “huge fish” gone. Time for heavier gear and the halibut rod is now over the side. No sooner were we back to our mind enhancing nectar and there is action on the new rod. Not only action but the heavy line is snapped before it can be retrieved. This is too much for my own fat self and as Becky is once again rigging her line, I drop one off our boat as well as we are obviously perched over a veritable cluster of huge flat-fish. You guessed it, we had barely sat down to our much needed libation, as by this time I was beginning to feel like a camel, when my line began to make some fishy type movements. Well I grab the rod and watch the line just peeling off the reel. I have visions of this monster type halibut and how many meals this beast will make, when a rather large seal surfaced and glared at me. Now I suspect that this was just a younger type seal trying to get some spiffy new body piercings, so I cleated my line and let him have my fine stylish hook. Now a sensible person would have called it quits by now, rather than donate more gear, but nobody ever accused me of being sensible, so I re-rigged and once again dropped a line. By this time we had managed to get the first drink down and managed a verbal re-play of the seal episode assisted by some “nectar of the Gods”, when once again Becky noticed movement on my line. Thinking that the seal was going to drown himself if he wore much more of this heavy hardware, we started to retrieve the line but this time it had a much different feel. You guessed it, a halibut, and fifty pounds of it to boot. And all of this in twenty feet of water. Just goes to show — ‘fish are where you find them”

Next day we are not having much luck as the salmon fishing has dropped right off. Even the charters are coming up short as the “springs” seem to vanish other than the occasional short period of time. Definitely not like last year, but that is fishing and so we went into Hunts Inlet to “drop the pick” and share some great company. No excitement like the previous evening. A new morning and actual sunshine. What could possibly happen to us next? Fishing is still slow and at slack tide we opted to anchor at a drop off and try for some more halibut. Skill obviously wins out as r’Andiamo landed two, Tawny Port — zero. As the winds were starting to build, we followed Doug and Becky into Welcome harbour. Now this is like going through a mine field when looking at the chart, but there is a a skinny little pathway to follow when you know the area. Sort of tight sphincter time on the first run but a piece of cake the next time around. What a great little cove and pretty much bullet proof for the weather. A short hike across a narrow strip of land and you are at a strip of fine gravel beach on Hecate Strait. That is the plan for the following day, and one more new experience.

New day and new sun — hard to believe two days in a row with actual sun light. Do you get the feeling that sunny days have been in short supply here this year? Anyway, we dinghy to shore and hike over to the Hecate side. Quite spectacular and if Bonnie stood on her tippy-toes, she could very nearly see . Walked the beach for a while, and just enjoyed the moment, but there are fish to be caught — or not! Threaded our way back through the mine field and then in hot pursuit of the elusive Pacific salmon. Still pretty slow, and yet again the charters are having tough luck. Sort of a bummer as this is how they make their living. Weather reports are talking gale-force winds so we have opted to slip back into Prince Rupert Harbour and the quiet of Pillsbury Cove. Doug and Becky are booked into the yacht club for Friday night and we are there on Saturday. A most enjoyable few days, at least certainly for us.

Mike and Jan arrive Sunday, and with them a new story or two.

Prince Rupert at last

Well we are at Prince Rupert, we have both phone and internet, and I can not come up with any good excuses for not updating our blog —- so here goes.

We left Ocean Falls and headed west towards Milbanke Sound, but rather than cross the sound, which can be somewhat snotty at times, we snuck up Reid Passage and on to Mathieson Channel, which was our intended destination at any rate. We tucked into Rescue Bay with the intention on continuing on the following AM. The weather kept nicely, and we stayed a couple of extra days and low and behold, there were more boat chores. Fancy that !. Oh well, it all has to be done I guess.

On to Kynoch Inlet, part of Fiordland Recreation Area. They are definitely fjord-like with steep granite walls dropping straight down to the water. A few trees have missed the loggers axe by clinging precariously to these rock faces. It is amazing how a cup full of questionable soil can support a full grown tree — but they do. The inlet was burdened with some high cloud cover, which prevented us from looking right up to the top, but maybe just as well as by the time I got all the folds in my neck smoothed out by looking upwards, I had a kink in my neck. Half a mountain is good enough. Back on the go as we hope to make Khutze Inlet for the night.

At the end of Mathieson Channel lies Mathieson Narrows. Now this causes the water to hurry up as it all has to get to where it is going at the same time as the rest of the water. If you are going with the current, you can gain mileage big time. The reverse holds true if you are going agin’ the current. We, however, arrived at slack, while the water just lies there while it tries to make up it’s mind what it wants to do. This does give the best ride. See how I look after Bonnie.

Had a small pod of Orcas accompany us through the Narrows and part way down Sheep Passage. The Orca pod was small, only three, but quite spectacular. A lot of leaping clear of the water accompanied by great splashing etc. Very entertaining.

I’m not certain if Sheep Passage was named for the big curly horned animal who likes to stand in the middle of the road at Banff and Jasper, or perhaps a Scotsman trundled his little furry favourites off to the wilds of BC. We were unable to spot either kind, so it is still a mystery. From Sheep Passage we enter Hiekish Narrows. Now those of you who listened to me whine last year, about the nasty log that snuck up upon us with the intention of doing damage to our propellers, this is the spot!! Having put up a valiant struggle in an effort to turn the log to pulp fodder, did create a very noticeable vibration. We did not want a repeat performance!

We made it through unscathed, and no small thanks to the white knuckles Bonnie presented to the helm cabinet. Into Graham Reach and on to Khutze Inlet. Tomorrow another day.

Caught a bit of the tide in our favour, and scooted along passed Butedale. Vicky, you will be happy to know that it is for sale in its entirety, and can be had for only a couple mil. Was going to stop and put an offer in on your behalf, but had to get out of the way of a tug and tow. Maybe on our way back down.

Managed to sneak across Wright Sound just ahead of the lumpy water, and started up Grenville Channel. Pulled into Lowe Inlet in bathroom weather. “Pissing” down rain with a “shitty” outlook for the next two-four hours. Slept the night away accompanied to the sound of buckets of water dumping down on our roof. Morning brought more rain and fog, but we are within sniffing distance of Prince Rupert. Started into Chatham Sound with a slight chop and low swells. Enough to grab Bonnie’s attention once again, but it did not worsen from there to PR. A happy Bonnie.

Speaking of Bonnie, I must mention that I mis-judged her interest in the gathering of sea food. I always knew that she enjoyed eating the stuff, but pulling a trap, or baiting a hook — no thanks. Now it seems that she has been less than pleased with my abilities of filling the deep freeze with prawns. Whilst we were in Ocean Falls, she took it upon herself to show me how the gathering of prawns was done. Now I must admit that she did much, much better than I, but I have come to the conclusion that it is the bait that makes the difference. Bonnie found that the best bait was cash, and that all one had to do was to present it to a commercial dude, on his prawn boat, and you had a quick catch. Not only that. But she found that if you added more “bait”, you could select the size that you wanted. I may try this out here, or may just toss some cash in the trap.

All for now, take care.
T