Singapore Bound

It seems that this being a return visit to Thailand, the desperate need to wander about daily, looking at all the touristy things, also limits the items that I  have to talk about. This would partially explain the infrequency of the blogs.

One thing that I forgot to mention from Phuket was the big coincidence. Yes, there I was ,in a Seven-Eleven, and there in front of me was my old friend “Johnnie Black” 😀 Apparently he also enjoys being in Thailand, and I, of course, invited him back to our hotel. for a bit of revelry and reminiscing.. We all had such a good time, and as Johnnie had no intention of going back to Scotland, I invited him to join us in Ao Nang. An offer he graciously accepted.

Actually, Johnnie was not the only one who we ran into from Scotland. Well — nearly Scotland. This fellow was from Newcastle where they seem uncertain as to where they are Scottish or British. The gentleman was sporting a dandy new “Phuket Tattoo”. Any of you who have traveled to Asia will have noticed the multitude of establishments offering tattoos. These are generally applied by needle and ink, by some very gifted artists. This body canvas, on both men and women, is quite noticeable on the beach. The “Phuket Tattoo”, however, has more the appearance of road rash. I guess that this is because it is road rash, and generally indicates an error in judgement whilst trying to control a motor bike. The Brits seem particularly succeptible  to this condition as they normally drive on the wrong side of the road, as do the Thais. The Brits  thus believe that they are well versed in the rules of the road. Wrong — there is only one road rule to remember in Thailand, and that is that there are no rules. Traffic merges, it must as there are no traffic controls, so it appears that whoever has the largest cajones has the right of way, and everyone else just makes way and smiles. Also, any motor traffic has precedence over pedestrians. It would seem that those from the U.K. have not caught on to this yet, and so get to sport dandy new body markings.

We are now in Bang Tao, on Phuket Island. We must do our visa thingy, and so are off to Singapore, tomorrow a.m.. This will be a new adventure for us as we have not been to Singapore and nearly everyone must go there. Even my buddy Verne has been to Singapore! We did have a really good time in Ao Nang, staying at the smaller, family-run hotel, the Royal Nakara. The family was extremely kind and helpful to us, and we certainly enjoyed their hospitality.. It is people and places such as this, that keep us coming back to South East Asia.

Actually, it is not just Bonnie and I who are leaving Thailand tomorrow. Our luggage was starting to vigorously complain about the weight which we expected them to contain, and I was loudly whimpering myself, so yet again we sent a couple of large packages back to Canada. This ain’t cheap, and what is really scary is that we still have a couple months of holidaying yet.

Will keep you posted.
T

Krabi bound

Krabi bound requires that we arise before first light. This does not make for a happy Bonnie 🙁 but it am what it am and if we are to make our boat we have no choice. The price of our ticket includes minibus transport from our hotel in Kata to Phuket town, and our transport to our hotel in Ao Nang. The ferry ride is about two hours and the taxi rides total about an hour. When we arrive at the ferry dock in Phuket, and turn in our ticket, we are identified by a little colored sticky badge, which identifies which ferry we are to catch. You then put your faith in a higher power and several dockworkers, as the ferries are all rafted together. You climb from one to the next and stop at whichever one somebody points to, based upon your little colored sticky. While this is going on, these same workers are passing your luggage from one to another until it hopefully arrives at your boat. Now I know that the luggage that Bonnie and I have entrusted to their care, weighs more than the fellows trying to pass these from boat to boat and it crosses my mind that if I were in that situation I may accidentally hurl those heavy suckers into the brine. These individuals are obviously more dependable than my own sweet self, for both our luggage and our bodies arrive at Ao Nang, on the same boat and at the same time. 😀 Actually we have one small transfer before our land arrival. The bay is a tad too shallow for the ferryboat, so “long-tail boats” transport us to our mini bus shuttles for our delivery to our respective hotels. All this for about $45. Listen up B.C. Ferries.

The Andaman Sea on the west coast of Phuket is very open, with few small islands. Phuket Island are like connected mountain ranges (tall hills). This is not the situation around Ao Nang. The bay takes on the appearance of the lower jaw of some prehistoric creature. Numerous small vertical islands thrust skyward from blue – green waters, erratically spaced like staggered teeth, in varying degrees of decay. These islands are very steep sided, and have generally about the same height. It would appear as though they were all submerged as a general landmass, and the softer materials eroded with water action. This same general appearance carries on to Krabi Island itself, as though the general land mass was forced upwards, with some areas only rising high enough to break the waters surface. Hey, what the heck — it’s my story, and who’s to argue?

Ao Nang is a beach town and touristy —- like the other tourist beach towns. Same, same –but different. Still have the same friendly peoples, the same tuk-tuks, the same suit outlets and the same sidewalk vendors. It is, however, a bit smaller than beach towns on Phuket, and thereby seems a little more laid back. Or maybe it is just us? I’ll have to put some thought to this to see if it is realistic to do less than nothing. Well not totally nothing, we still have to find sustenance. You can eat your way for blocks via the street vendors, or eat your way for blocks via the restaurants—–decisions, decisions. You can get quite a good chicken-on-a-stick from the street vendors. They are cooked on small charcoal barbeques fastened to the side of little motorbikes. They also cook fish on the same barbeques. As much as Bonnie enjoys the vendors fare, she has not worked up the courage to try the fish. Neither have I—not even on a bet. 😛 These delectable little morsels are about the size of baitfish, and once properly cooked, take on the appearance of an overcooked tongue from an old sneaker. Add to this the fact that it is still looking at you. I guess that we have to keep the tasty head bits attached. Takes some getting used to, methinks. Lots of other great stuff though, from noodles to dessert. There are also lots of vendors selling “Muslim Food”. Now this is actually food prepared by Muslims, so there ain’t no pig. Well pig is really called moo in Thai, so I guess that you get no moo in Muslim. Food is still good.

Krabi Island is apparently comprised of about 50 percent Muslims, 40 percent Buddhist and 10 percent whatever. Notice a significant difference in the ratio of mosques to temples. They seem to tolerate each other well and nobody has tried to measure me up for a black bag over my head, at least not to this point in time. I’ll soon be so brown that I will probably just blend into the crowd, — well maybe I’ll look like a crowd by myself. They keep trying to sell me items for big! big! “Got your size, papa, big! big!” I’d smack them if I wouldn’t look like such a bully. Maybe just Bonnie will blend in.

Nuff for now – more to follow.
T

It’s in the eyes of the beholder!!

I should have known, or at the very least been better prepared. All this time I have been fooling myself into thinking that I am very nearly as young as I always was. This foolishness, even though I have noticed that the face that I shave each morning looks more like that of my father.

What brought about all this enlightenment you ask? I believe that I mentioned last year, the friendliness of the Thai peoples, and in particular, that of the young ladies who would volunteer their time to escort the elderly male visitors, about their towns. 🙂 Now I would have to wonder why a senior person, who borders on drooling and looks like he would forget his way home from the corner market, would travel at any rate? However, their choice is not my decision to make, and it is an extreme kindness to know that there are people here who will ensure that these old duffers are looked after. I felt quite comfortable in the assumption that it was those “ old guys” who required this assistance, until one day when Bonnie felt compelled to go on yet another shopping spree. Not wishing to subject myself to another outing in the hot sun, I agreed to meet up with her at a later time, and have yet another meal. 😛

I must also say that any time I was in Bonnie’s care, the young tour guides could see that I was in capable hands and did not require assistance, but as I strolled down the street, unattended, a group of these young ladies endeavored to attract my attention. They had an obvious concern for my well being as they were quite insistent that I should not be left alone. They must have been very good guides indeed as they offered to take me places I hadn’t been, and show me things that I had never seen. Now it is possible that I lost a bit in the translation, as my command of the Thai language is somewhat limited. All this and they didn’t even know that Bonnie and I had walked pretty much every street in both Karon and Kata, and had thought we had seen it all.

As tempting as this offer was, I thought that it would be in poor form to take advantage of a guided tour while Bonnie was indisposed, so I graciously declined their kind offer. It is still somewhat disconcerting to know that I appear as though I am now of an age that I require additional care.

I did manage to find Bonnie and enjoy yet another meal. They didn’t even have to put my food through the blender——yet.

On the subject of eating,— notice how I cleverly swung this topic around to food once again,— should you find yourself strolling down the beach road from Karon to Kata, you will come to a “T” intersection. Rather than taking the road to the right, or Kata Noi, try taking the road left. When walking at a goodly pace for about 10 minutes, you will notice a small restaurant called the “Red Chair”. Well actually you won’t notice it as it says absolutely nothing in English about a red chair, but if you look closely, there is a small picture of a red chair in the upper left hand corner of the sign. In large letters in English, it says “Sea Food” and “Thai Food”. You may also notice, as there are no walls on this building, that it is always filled with people eating, the majority of which are Thai. Yes the food is that good, plus it is “on the cheap”. 😀 Bonnie and I could both stuff ourselves for about seven bucks. And oh yes, all the chairs are red.

It is now time for a change of venue as even the street vendors are starting to call Bonnie by name Rather than waking up a “little bit grumpy”, I can now be somewhat Krabi, as we are off to Ao Nang on Krabi Island.

More to follow—-ttfn.
T

Primitive man

It amazes me that when safely ensconced in a warm climate, with a roof over your head, that we resort to the base instincts of primitive man — the need to forage for food. Fortunately for us, there is ample supply within walking distance from our shelter and thus we survive yet another day.

On the subject of food, it would seem that since fresh dog has been removed from the menu here in Thailand, the old faithful pet has become just that, the old faithful pet. With careful selective breeding brought about by the animal husbandry skills of the Thai people, they have managed to raise the genetic profile of the basic dog to that of a mutt. These canine creatures are the most non-descript animals that bark and wag. They bear absolutely no resemblance to any recognizable species known to man. This is with the exception of the favorite pets of the King, with whom he is often photographed. It is possible that only the king is allowed to have a dog that looks like a dog, just as only he is allowed to own a white elephant.

The sole purpose of  “mans best friend” now, would seem that he must take up sidewalk space. I come to this conclusion in that they can generally be found anywhere; most frequently sprawled across a sidewalk or in the walkway of the shelters of the sidewalk vendors, sound asleep. Having to no longer fear the cooking pot must have driven all semblance of energy from their bodies, as they are able to hold this position for long periods at a time. On a positive note, they must also be too pooped to poop, as I have seen more doggy scats on the docks at Port Sidney than are found on the streets of Phuket.

Bonnie and I decided to splurge 30 bucks on a taxi to drive us up to the big Buddha on the mountain behind Kata. Actually we have to travel over to the Chalong side of Koh Phuket (Phuket Island), which is the east side. When Troy and Chad were with us last year, we made the same trip, and this year we wanted to see how the work had progressed. This statue of Buddha will be the biggest in Thailand, standing approximately 150 feet in height and about 80 feet across the base. The construction was all by hand, and the general form was brick and concrete. Over this, concrete was applied like stucco until the actual, desired shape was reached. All this was done while the workers were balanced on rickety-looking bamboo scaffolding. When the concrete work was finished, the entire statue was covered with white marble, which had been cut into 6-inch squares. The marble was then ground smooth, by hand, to remove all of the rough edges. This does make for one impressive structure. The tourists, and the faithful, could purchase one of these tiles and write your name on the back, later to be cemented to the statue. Somewhere on the beast are four tiles with Chad, Troy, Bonnie and my names on them. At least that is their story and we will certainly never know the difference. They have only the lotus flower to tile and that portion will all be done. They are then going to make the interior of the statue into a Buddhist museum, as the structure is hollow. Quite impressive!!

Time to meet Bonnie down town and see if we can scrounge up another bite to eat. Can’t miss that.

Take care of yourselves!

Deja vu — all over again

Have you ever done something, and immediately felt that you had done that before? Well as I strolled down the sidewalks of Karon, on Phuket Island I felt just that. Oh hey, that is probably because we were here last year at about this time so maybe it is not really déjà vu. But once again, I precede myself.

After spending a great Christmas with family, deep in the snows of Seattle, we made our way back up to Sidney for our December 30 departure. Although Sidney had no where near the snow that we had experienced in WA, it was still cold, but we persevered and hardened ourselves to the elements, steeled by the thoughts of warmer climates and soft sand beaches. My sister-in-law had volunteered my brother-in-law to taxi us to the airport for our early morning flight, and we were on our way. Thank you both!! A short hop to Vancouver on Air Canada Jazz, and hey, no lost luggage or anything. Next step, Vancouver to Los Angeles, still Air Canada, still no lost luggage! I may become a believer. A six-hour layover in LA until we catch our Thai Airlines flight to Bangkok. Now they may partner with Air Canada, but that is all that they have in common. As we are doing this trip on air miles, we decided to fly business rather than baggage. The Air Canada business class from Vancouver to LA gave us bigger seats, a semi meal and a moderately grumpy stewardess. Thai Air business class gave us seats that reclined into a thousand different positions, with massage. It gave us a real meal, drinks, (booze), snacks, all served on actual linen, by smiling attendants who even gave us real cutlery to eat with. The only downside was that the flight was 17 hours long, and I don’t do sleep well on a plane. This may come as a shock to those of you who have noted that I can generally sleep most anywhere, and usually before my head hits the pillow. As Thai Air provide us with individual TV screens and about 30 different current movies, I tried the old tried and true sleep assist method of plugging in a movie. I can generally watch a DVD about 5 or 6 times prior to getting the entire movie, as my eyelids keep getting in the way. Even this did not work. I did get to watch half-dozen movies in total massaged comfort at any rate. A smooth touch down in Bangkok and an eight-hour wait for our flight to Phuket. A one-hour flight to Phuket, and out comes the linen for the tables, and the silverware, all for a bad piece of cake. No time for seven courses. From Phuket airport to Karon is about an hour by taxi, and this has made for a very long day, and so to bed.

Now back to the déjà vu thingy. The streets of Karon are as we remember them; the excellent food is how we remember it. The smiling faces are as we recall. The only thing that seems different is the tourists. I don’t recognize a single set of bosoms on the beach. However, the background noise still sounds Scandinavian so I assume that the majority of the tourists here are escaping the Nordic cold.

Caught up on our sleep, so ‘tis time to move. The “Sugar Palm Grand” sits atop a small mountain at the south end of Kata, and as they have only been open for 2 months, Bonnie was able to score us a deal. Rather nice digs, so we will hide out here for a couple of weeks. The vertical climbing up a mountainside to our room should have me rakishly thin in no time — or maybe not.

Now when we arrived, it was a bit overcast and a little cooler (not quite in the 30’s) but the weather has warmed up nicely. By the time I waddle down the hill and back it looks as though I have been swimming. Speaking of swimming. The warm weather has also brought the people to the beaches. I did happen to notice a young lady in her warm weather swim suit the other day. Either that or she was just flossing. Not certain if it is the walking or the viewing that keep giving me these heart palpitations.

My favorite tour guide, (Bonnie, that is) and I are trying to decide if our next jaunt should be to Krabi or Samui. Life is hell when one is pressed to make decisions — but I suppose we must do something with our day. Will keep you posted in the blog. Until then, take care

T

In Hot Pursuit

Wow! I’m getting more and more like the old neutered tomcat, curled up and lazing in the sun and doing very little — including the occasional update on the blog. But here we go.

Len and Ursula, friends from Sidney, were to join us at Campbell River after Chad, Angie and the boys left, for a bit of time on a power boat. They had had a number of sailing vessels in the past, and as they were presently between boats had given some thought to a power boat. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. But I get ahead of myself. While we were awaiting their arrival at Discovery Harbour I recognized a sailboat plying its way down our fairway, Paul and Christie, aboard Shearwater. We made arrangements to get together and before Len and Ursula could arrive down the fairway came Compromise with Chris and Jerry. With the arrival of Len and Ursula we all gathered at the pub for a dandy meal and visit. Seemed like an old Port Sidney rendezvous.

The following day brought forecasts of nasty winds for the Strait of Georgia and we had prepared ourselves for yet another day at the dock, but we awoke to flat calm water and zero winds. This is not all that unusual, but the weather reports still called for nasty winds rated gale force. We dithered around for a while trying to make up our minds what to do and decided to take the plunge, and thus we headed north through Seymour Narrows. Good call, as the day stayed dandy, and the water flat. We carried on towards Nodales Channel, where the majority of the fishing seemed to be taking place, as Len was most hopeful of getting some splendid fishing input from a seasoned pro such as myself. Well you note that I said "fishing" before, and not "catching" and as we joined all the small fish boats from Painters Lodge and April Point, we spent the remainder of the day drowning bait, along with the rest of the boats. On the plus, at least we didn’t have to make our living off our catch and tomorrow is another day.

The AM arrived, along with the sun, and we made our way along Nodales towards Sonora Point, still in pursuit of finny creatures, and oh yes, the nasty weather that was to happen the previous day found its way to the Strait and Discovery Passage. A good call leaving the dock when we did, as we would have had yet another day tied tight. Not to worry where we were, as Nodales and Cordero are well protected from the prevailing winds. It seems that the fish had little concern as to having protected water, as once again we could not entice a fish into keeping us company. Now there were quite a number of boats fishing Codero Channel above Dent rapids and once again we joined the pack — to no avail. A small boat next to us had a bite, a small rock fish which he promptly threw back. Stated that he had been fishing hard for a week and that was his first hit. Such is fishing and I am certain that Len truly appreciated the lesson in humility by getting skunked. Of course we tried just a bit too long to boat a fish, so that our passage through Dent rapids and the Yucultas left a little to be desired. Dent was manageable but there is a spot on the Yucultas where the current flows across the channel on a flood. That’s where we were — an instant change in direction of some 90 degrees. The channel is reasonably wide at this point, which allowed us to recover our direction and carry on through. Does grab your attention though. There was a smaller boat at anchor just below this frenzied water, and I assumed him to be fishing the turbulence. In fact he was likely a local, parked there to watch the faces and the antics of the tourists as they plied there way through.

Once we had the rapids all behind us, we headed off to Waddington Channel in Desolation Sound, where we had it on good authority that there were prawns and oysters to be had. A great opportunity to show Len that there are a number of ways to snag seafood. We thumped our way towards Waddington, taking the last of the Strait of Georgia’s nasties of the beak, but the trip was not all that long, and the water was laying down. Made Waddington in time to have yet another batch of food and some tasty grape and throw the pick for the night. The next day brought clear skies and flat water although the weather reports did not bode so well and our intention was to make Nelson Island that night and Pender Harbour the following day. We did have lots of time and took a pause to drop my four prawn traps and  then dinghy ashore for a batch of fresh oysters. The oyster hunt was excellent, but once again we would have been better off to use Bonnie’s bait for the prawns. Six prawns, four people — let  me see, even though the prawns were a good size this hardly makes a meal, but the traps are up and we are heading south, or southeast ,or what ever direction it is. Now things are good untill about the time we hit Lund. Although the day had darkened, and the rain was pelting down with enthusiasm, the gale force winds didn’t seem to find us untill just south of Lund and about the time we were thinking seriously about finding a hidy-hole to wait it out the water settled down considerably, and we plodded onward. Now this was actually a trick, for as we made our way south of Powell River the winds returned, with increased vigor and the rain continued unabated. Of course by this time we are about equal distance from Nelson Island and Powell River, we chose to carry on. Now that’s an oops, for about this time the windshield wiper that you might recall I had previously doctored in Matheson Channel decided that enough was enough, and promptly quit. This was of course the wiper for the helm windshield, which brought my visibility to approximately zero. As I could no longer see the direction of the waves I could no longer quarter them, and as a result took a couple on the beam. The resulting pitching and rolling launched a few items from the cupboards and off the counter and at this point Bonnie chose to remember one other time I made a slight error in judgement crossing the Strait of Georgia. Golly, she sometimes has a problem remembering yesterday, but one minor mistake eight years ago ??? We did manage to make Blind Bay, unscathed, as darkness closed in upon us

Our trek down the mainland side of the Strait had a purpose as Len and Ursula have good friends at Pender Harbour and Bonnie and I were on our way to a birthday celebration for our old buddy Art, at Gibsons. The glitch in the system was that Gibsons marina could only accommodate us for one night. Len and Ursula to the rescue as their friends at Pender just happened to have dock space, with power, with water, — how great is that. Not only do we now have a place to park our boat, but they have offered the use of their second vehicle so Len and Ursula can shuttle us down to Gibsons. Add to this the fact that Ryan and Sue are really nice people and very hospitable. We spent a very nice evening together where the grape flowed freely and Len prepared a most savory pasta, and we added some purchased prawns to our delectable six — plus — Sue had a most tasty recipe for oysters, so we managed to scarf down a bucket of the beasties. Even Bonnie ate several, not enough to put a sparkle in her eye, but several more than she would have normally consumed.

And now to the party and Art’s big 70. Jimmy Anderson, a trapper, rancher and bush pilot from our other life in the frozen North, once stated in his autobiography, "that had I known that I was going to live this long, I would have taken much better care of myself". Now this can probably apply to a number of us, but not Art. He is probably in as good condition now as he was thirty years ago and I am certain that he has no intention of being measured for his dirt vest until he has turned every tree he can find into firewood. Now this not only keeps him in good shape but as Confusious says " he who cuts his own firewood warms himself twice" Now that is Sammy Confusious, from the corner store — not that other guy.Given Art’s disposition and gene pool, he may well carry on into the next century. But the party was great, and gave us the opportunity to to get together with old friends, many of whom we had not seen for a number of years.

The following day our trusty travel guides, Len and Ursula came back down to Gibsons to chauffeur us back to Pender and our boat. It was time to say adieu as they made their way to Powell River and the ferry to Comox, where their own car was waiting. A great trip — no fish but great company and good times, plus we never starved.

More to follow.

More sun — less fish

The AM at Forward Harbour brought, of all things — SUNSHINE!!! Did not realize just how much I was taking on an albino appearance. With my ultra blond summer hair and the occasional pinkish morning eyes, topped off with my un-tanned skin and there you have it. As we slowly made our way down Cordero Channel we tried fishing in what appeared to be probable “good fishing areas” as we wanted to be somewhat prepared when , Angie and our grand-boys arrived in Campbell River. Not a fish in sight but we have a new sunny day and we  did notice some boating action at the north end of Sonora Island, and so, discretely slipped into the pattern of the other boats we methodically plodded around in large circles while trying all the appropriate gear in the tackle box. No fish — and as we kept closer tabs on the surrounding boats we noticed — no fish. But we did pass the day away in glorious sunshine. Make our way to Cameleon Harbour and drop the pick to await another dawn. A new day and guess what — more sun. This is getting unreal as we have definitely not been accustomed to this situation. Invigorated, we motor down to the junction of Nodales Channel and Discovery Passage to work an area where there are certain to be fine salmon, just waiting for the catching. Wrong, they are still waiting for the catching and we must be off to Cambell River to provision for the arrival of the family.

Good thing that we had allowed an extra day for some leisurely provisioning and boat clean-up as due to some rather crappy weather in the Bellingham area, Chad and Angie decided to join us a day earlier than originally expected. Hey, two thumbs up, — more time with the grand kids don’t you know. They all arrive in good order, albeit late in the day. We are in good shape for the following day, and the start of a new adventure. A new sunny day, but we are a bit late for the early slack at Seymour Narrows, and a bit early for the late slack, but we manage to kill a little time until we can make our way in a northerly direction once again. Back to Cameleon Harbour once again, but boy will we be ready for the fish on the morrow. Well you know, we were certainly ready, but someone forgot to inform the fish as we dutifully drowned bait in a blazing sun, as we wiled away the hours. Down Nodales and up Cordero we drowned bait, and not a sniff of a fish. Three small faces with big expectations — and no fish. However, as we near Bickley Bay, our intended destination for the day, we determine that perhaps a bottom fish or two will help to redeem ourselves, and so with a change of gear we proceed to impress the troops. In short order, ’s line indicates a fishy type activity and the boys were called to share the momentous occasion of boating a fish. But no – the fish-gods are still giving us the finger, as when the fish was skillfully brought to the surface, it turned into a dogfish. Exciting, but not tasty, and even though we changed location several times, dogfish was the “catch of the day”. Oh yum!, but fortunately we still have provisions for a group of forty or more. We shall not starve.

Another glorious morning, which we must appreciate, as it is all we have to offer, fishing being what it is. If nothing else we are determined, as we dutifully fish the shoreline of Nodales once-again, and yes — persistence can pay off, for just as we were about to pull our lines in and change locations once again, was blessed with an actual strike, by an actual fish. A small spring, but a salmon none the less. Big time excitement and it all seems worth while. Not the end of our fishing, but all we can show for our catching – unless you count more dogfish — which we won’t. I have never seen so many dogfish. Started to look up recipes for shark-fin soup. But that will have to wait. Won’t bore you with the details of our remaining days of non-catching nor will I yet-again mention the wonderful sunny, cloudless days, but all this hot weather has warmed some of the coves and small bays, to where it was possible to swim, and indeed this was taken advantage of by Chad and the boys.

Once again time has flashed by and it is time for us to part. With assurances that we will persevere and not only locate the preferred fishing areas, but also the time of the runs of salmon. Our next visit will be in Redmond, and we already look forward to that.

More to follow ——

Warden One

The word of the day is “storm warnings” all up and down the coast. Seas to five metres and winds 50 to 55 kts. Not only is it the word of the day, but the next several days.

Taking advantage of some flat water in Chatham Sound prior to the storm, we leave Prince Rupert and make our way south. No storm ,but heavy rains. First night Klewnuggit, second night Khutze. Next day we cross Jackson Passage to Matheson Channel and down to Reid passage, still trying to keep ahead of the northwest winds and even uglier weather. Now as we have had nearly constant rains for most of the summer and this trip southward, my windshield wiper, at the helm window, decided to go on strike. This would take place as we approached the south end of Matheson, which is a rock strewn jumble of hazards, awaiting to do injury to unsuspecting boats destined for Reids passage. At about this time, my Nobletech decided to go into slow motion. As this would show my vessel position moving along where we had been, not where we were at present, it made for tight sphincters and a nervous, actually very nervous, Admiral. Employing the age old skill of dead reckoning, we made our way into Port Blackney, and threw the hook.

The following day brought some periods of lighter rain, which allowed me to take the wiper assembly from the galley window and exchange it with the totally non-working helm unit, and voila, our ability to see is restored. Add to this the fact that after re-booting the helm computer, and threatening it with a booting of a more physical nature, our Nobletech decided to give us back our navigation system. Had the spare system loaded on the laptop, and paper charts as stand-by, but is nice to have things work that are supposed to work. Bonnie looks to me in the same fashion.

On to Codville Lagoon and an extra day of just doing nothing. Not only that, but we have had the occasional glimpse of blue sky, less rain and varied winds. Things are looking up.

A better report for the Nor’wester and we make our way down Fitz Hugh Sound, to Frypan Bay, which we had to ourselves. Woke up to sunny skies and flat water in Frypan, and as our weather report was not well received in the Bay, we ventured out into open spaces with the intention of possibly taking a stab at Queen Charlotte Sound. Not to be as the dreaded swells were still coming in from the Sound, and the Admiral made the seniority decision that some time in Fury Cove, where we could watch the outer water from our anchorage, would be prudent. Good decision, as the next AM brought glass smooth water with a low westerly swell. Time to go.

A great crossing, although admiral Bonnie would have preferred no swell at all,  and we carried on down to Port McNeill. As it was late in the day, we were not able to get moorage so, once again dropped anchor in the harbour. Got good slip space the following morning allowing for a few provisions and some water. This in case we wished to shower again at some point. The need becomes apparent when Bonnie and I keep trying to “up-wind” ourselves from each other.

With tears in my eyes, we make our way over to the fuel dock and a top-up of diesel. Just about to the point where it would be cheaper to burn whiskey, but then one would run the risk of fighting with the engines for an appropriate share. I have found that if I keep the engine RPM’s under thirteen hundred, the fuel economy is not actually that bad, and gives us about 7.5 knots. It is in this proud fashion that we head towards Johnstone Strait. We are on flat water, but the forecast is for the perpetual gale warnings for the Strait. Some time it will actually happen and catch a bunch of boats unprepared for rough water.

As we neared Robson Bight we moved to the mainland side of the strait, as the Orcas like to frolic in the Bight, and scrape their bellies on the gravel beach. Because of this activity, the area has become a whale-watchers haven. Unfortunately it has also become a haven for “granolies” for as we made our way southward an inflatable boat approached us at a fairly high rate of speed. In the boat was a member of the” KGB whale saving society” who we were to find out was known as Warden One. As she approached our vessel she commenced to flap her arms in what appeared to be an attempt at becoming airborne. I quickly calculated that, given her body mass, (we ain’t talking no tiny Warden One here) her arms would need to be in the range of forty feet across, and thus assumed that she actually wanted us to stop. Now having been informed by Bonnie that I should just stay where I was, ”as I can be ignorant”, and she would handle the situation at hand. Warden One meets Admiral One.!!! Now after assuring us that she was just doing her job, we received a lecture about going too fast in a whale watching area and that we should keep our speed to 7 knots. Now this is a most discerning eye on Warden One, as when I once again brought us up to thirteen hundred RPM, we were doing 7.6 knots. However, I suspect that there may well be some tax payer funding involved here, and in order to build the bureaucracy an ever increasing quota of nasty perpetrators must be apprehended and scolded. Next year we may well have a Warden Two and Three as well. Plus I suspect that there may have been something of a personal motive involved with the protection of the whale as there was a bit of a family resemblance involved with the Orcas and Warden One. Oh well, I am certain that at the end of the day Warden One sleeps well with the thought that the world is a much better place because of her. Actually, Warden One does not realize just how close she  came to “poking the bear” during her discussion with Admiral One.

Winds are once again building as we make our way to Forward Harbour and our next anchorage.

Look after yourselves and enjoy each day.

The Summer that wasn’t

Time for an update from the summer that wasn’t. Todd, Kristen, Kayla and Matthew arrived from New York as scheduled. Flew the distance in one day, so was a long trip, plus a 5 hour layover in Vancouver. As a special treat the weather tried to co-operate by giving out fleeting glimpses on sunshine — a rare sight this year. It seems that it went directly from June-uary to November, and we now have cool days with much horizontal rain and, of course, frequent storms. But once again I get ahead of myself. 🙂

The weather is not the only item difficult to predict, there is also the location of the fish which has been, to say the least, very erratic. We strike out for the area which has shown a degree of dependability for us, and offers areas of good moorage, should a storm rear its ugly head. The north end of DundasIsland gives us both, as Brundidge Inlet offers excellent holding when at anchor. Unfortunately, it also offers a type of black fly that is actually a set of sharp teeth and a pair of wings. As a special bonus they come in large quantities, and I am certain that they can chew their way into a sealed boat when they are in a feeding frenzy. Now, I suspect, that in an effort to lure these carnivores away from her grand babies, Granny offered herself as a sacrifice, with the result of some rather nasty welts. Her year to look as though she was the loser in a bar brawl. Not to paint this picture all in the negative, we did get into a rather good bite of nice size cohos, which put something of a smile on Todd’s face. 🙂 Rather than face another opportunity of feeding the flying teeth, we struck out for the Moffats, and God”s pocket. On the way we decided to drop the prawn traps for a succulent feed of the little critters.

As we now had a good catch of salmon on ice, we decided to set our sights on some fresh halibut. Now as halibut have been the only dependable thing this season, that we should get our limit is pretty much a given — wrong !!! Just when I was starting to get pretty cocky about getting these “flat fish” at will, they up and disappeared. Possibly just to teach me a little humility.  We offered them some of the most delectable fishy type snacks known to man, and couldn’t get a sniff. We caught red snapper, caught lingcod, caught rock fish galore, but not one ugly halibut. Plus we tried the above at all the spots where we had previously caught halibut over the past two years. Some things are just not meant to be. Oh yes, our prawn pull yielded us a much better catch of starfish than it did prawns, and as their were no commercial prawners in the vicinity for Bonnie to exhibit her prawning skills, we opted to move the traps to a different location. It was a good thing that we did, as when we pulled this set, we not only had a bountiful two prawns, but one of the largest Pacific octopuses I have encountered. 🙂 It would have reached about eight feet from toe to toe and yet had managed to squeeze into the prawn trap through it’s three inch opening. While in there, he unscrewed the bait container and had a snack, but courteously left the container and lid. Now as the trap has little gates which fall down on the inside, he no longer had the little three inch opening to leave by and was in the process of building a new exit by tearing a hole in the net cover of the trap. This is when we brought him aboard and watched as he squeezed himself out of his newly created opening. Getting a fairly large octopus aboard the boat is one thing, getting him to leave is totally another. Worse than a landlord trying to evict a nasty tenant, or so it seems. I was about to get out my cookbook of Chinese cooking delights when we managed to entice our unwanted guest into the landing net, and then back into the water. So much for prawns.

As we continued our pursuit for the wily halibut, in the open, bouncy water south of Melville Island, we noticed a Humpback whale in the distance, trying to out do us in the fishing department no doubt. Apparently we elicited a degree of curiosity in the brute, for as we started to leave the area empty handed he surfaced about twenty feet abeam our starboard side. Now I can tell you that this is somewhat impressive, and as he dove back down we could even see vegetation hanging on his tail fluke. Another Kodak moment in trade of poor fishing. Unfortunately it is hard to think “picture” when your mouth is open in awe and your mind is in neutral.

A few more salmon for good measure, including a nice Spring, and we are off to Tuck Inlet for, hopefully, a feed of crab. As luck would have it, this came through for us as, on the pull, we had twenty – eight crab in the trap. Kept eleven of the biggest and sent the rest back for the next time.

Don’t have to like it but time is up and the family is off  to New Jersey. Time for us to prep the boat and point ourselves Southward in search of some sunshine — hopefully.

More to follow.

More From Dawson Creek

This could be assumed as more company or more news from Dawson Creek. Actually was both. Vern and Vicki Haglof, friends since forever, managed to pry themselves free from their busy retirement schedule to join us for a few days on the briny sea. It is truly great to get together with old friends and talk fondly about the "good old days". The real beauty is that nobody really remembers them all that well, and as an added bonus, nobody really notices that you don’t remember yesterday all that well either.

Actually the weather did rather improve, which allowed us to venture out in hot pursuit of the ‘friends of Nemo’ and we could do this on water that didn’t move up and down at the same rate of speed that we propelled ourselves forward. I find that the crew tends to be a much happier lot when the action of the boat does not spill their drink.  Spent a day in Hudson Bay Passage chasing fish as the wind was  a strong southwest in Hecate an a strong southeast in  Chatham Sound. This gave us a  bit of a breakwater to hide behind, and the opportunity to fish a little. We managed to snag a small halibut. Pretty exciting for prairie people. Well not really prairie people, but  I have to tell you that the salt water fishing around Dawson Creek is a tad limited. All this excitement helped to build a terrible thirst and as luck would have it, it was time for dinner at any rate. Back to our hidy-hole for some of both.

Now I must  tell you that I am in total awe of a highly skilled aptitude that I have noticed when women get together on the boat. The fairer sex appears to be able to talk at approximately 200 words per minute, while only listening at about 60 words per minute or so. Now logic would say that there would be a great deal of this conversation that they would miss, but at the end of the day they seem to have it all down pat. Totally amazing !!

Back to fishing. Now that Vern had been introduced to halibut fishing, there was just no holding him back and the request for the following day was for more of the same. Having noticed an interesting spot or two, while previously trolling, we tried to jig up a flat fish or two. Now as the tide was running, it was more like trolling for halibut and there was no way that we were going to stay at the "lucky spot", so we dropped anchor and tossed over the tasty halibut treat. This had scarcely hit the bottom when it was munched upon by the ‘happy hali.’ A fifty pounder no less, and a new fishing experience for the "new guy". Add to this catch an assortment of dining delights of the bottom fish variety, and it is yet again time to call it a day. Actually, you can call it whatever you like, but we like to call it a day.

A new day and a new request. Still fresh in his memory, the work involved at boating a bigger halibut, Vern thought it prudent to pursue a salmon or six, and as Vicki had been drooling over the thoughts of a crab feed for several days, we pointed the boat in the direction of the south end of the Moffats. Once again "Goodness triumphs over Evil" and we got into a bit of a bite. Landed four springs and two coho in fairly short order, then off to Tuck inlet and a catch of crab. You gotta love it when a plan comes together, Ten nice keepers in the crab trap the next A.M., plus several females and some undersize. Not a bad pull and they joined us as we boated back to Rupert. Turned several into a tasty meal for the ladies as Vern and I graciously stood aside that they might have their fill. This was particularly gallant of Vern, who can hardly get enough crab and prawns etc. — or not.

The bad thing about being at the Yacht Club in Rupert is that it signals the end of another wonderful time with friends or family, but time does fly. One more page for the book of memories.

A couple of days will see the arrival of the "New York family", who actually now live in New Jersey. We are quite looking forward to their arrival, at which time "Poor Granny" will be able to satiate the grand child withdrawal symptoms that she has been suffering from.

Take care of yourselves and keep in touch.
T & B