When we were in Prince Rupert a couple weeks ago, on our way to the first fishing of the season, Otto and I were lucky enough to get interviewed by the local CBC Radio station. Check out our interview with Carolina de Ryk, co-host of CBC Daybreak North, Prince Rupert:
This blog entry was originally published on the blog for Skipper Otto’s Community Supported Fishery as I hitched a ride on a tiny commercial salmon gillnet boat on its way to fishing grounds north of Prince Rupert.
After almost two weeks in cramped quarters, mixed weather and truly spectacular scenery, it’s time for me to leave Otto and Boris so that I can continue on to Haida Gwaii (formerly the Queen Charlotte Islands) for my own personal adventure.
This has been a once-in-a-lifetime trip; it’s hard to imagine that Otto has been doing it yearly for the last forty-two years. There have been a ton of changes in the industry since Otto began and it gets harder and harder every year to make ends meet. There’s increasing competition for the fish out there, the costs of running a boat continue to go up (especially fuel) and there’s more and more pressure from fish farms up and down the coast. I’ve had a chance to see, first-hand, how innovative models like our Community Supported Fishery keep fishing a viable profession in the face of an increasingly corporate, centralized and industrial fishing industry.
In addition to this blog, I’ve started uploading pictures taken during the trip to my Flickr account; when I’m back from my adventures in Haida Gwaii I’ll make sure they’ve all got captions, so you know what you’re looking at.
With the first fishing of the season under the belt, I’m sure it’s going to be a good season for Otto, Terry and Rod on the North Coast. Word came down yesterday that the Nass opening will happen next Monday for two days, again; hopefully it’ll be great fishing in fantastic weather. It’s time to wish Otto well and make my way to the ferry. Thanks so much for following along on our journey… it’s been a blast!
My writing for this blog isn’t actually finished, even if my journey with Otto has. I had the chance to do and see a few amazing things here in Prince Rupert that I hope to share with you as soon as I get back to Vancouver. One of the highlights was an incredible lesson by Opa Sushi in Prince Rupert on how to cut sashimi and make other Japanese dishes from a whole sockeye salmon. Once I edit down the 90 minutes of video I recorded, I’ll be sure to post it on the blog. Also, I’ve been collecting some amazing salmon recipes along the way that I’ll also be posting when I return. Stay tuned…
After a restful night tied up in Port Edward, we went over to the packers’ dock to unload the salmon, get it in bins and get it on the truck heading down to Vancouver.
For the bigger boats, there’s a machine I can only describe as a “fish vacuum” that sucks the fish out of their fish holds and sends it through a hose to the sorting/grading conveyor belt, where the different species (sockeye, pink, spring, etc.) are separated into separate larger fish totes (bins) by hand. These are big industrial operations, with forklifts and other industrial equipment constantly in action. Our small catch avoids most of this flurry of activity, however, since we’re only using this company to help get our catch down to Vancouver.
Instead, two barrels are lowered by crane to our boats (the tide is out, and there are big tides here, so we’re almost 30 feet below the dock) and filled by hand as Otto and Terry pull their salmon out of their fish holds, one at a time. As each barrel is filled, it’s hoisted up and poured into one of the large totes. There’s no worry about separate the different species because that can be done in Richmond when the sockeye and pinks are dressed–which is a fancy way of saying “gutted”.
Our catch almost filled two totes, which were then weighed, tagged and filled with ice slush before being loaded onto a truck. In about 24 hours, that truck will arrive in Richmond and be met by Sonia and Shaun, who’ll be scheduling a pick-up for members shortly thereafter.
Otto, Terry, Boris and I are now traveling back to Prince Rupert to buy groceries and wait for news on when the Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) will be opening the Nass fishing grounds for another opening. Dock talk suggests that there’ll be another opening next Monday for the Nass and that the Skeena River fishery (just south of Prince Rupert) might have an opening not long after that. For now, though, we’ll travel to Rupert, and wait.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
I’m not sure where to start, apart from the fact that today was even less productive than yesterday. A ton more boats left the fishing grounds early; we only caught a handful more fish ourselves and our fishing buddies Terry and Rod had similar experiences. So, it’s now mid-afternoon and we’re on our way back to Port Edward, where we’ll have to deliver our fish in the morning.
It’s been raining and windy since mid-morning and a misty fog has descended on the ocean around us, giving us only about a half-mile of visibility. Fortunately, we stay close enough to shore on this trip that it’s easy to see the landmarks necessary to keep us on track. (If the weather was worse, we could always use the radar on the boat, but that’s not a fun way to navigate and it doesn’t always see debris in the water.)
Fishermen like Otto are some of the last hunter-gatherers in our culture; they go into wild and wonderful places far off the beaten track to gather food and bring it back to us. It’s physically challenging work and you have to have a particular kind of personality to accept that you’re completely at the whims of the natural world, both above and below the waterline. If the weather and the fish don’t cooperate, a great day can turn into a lousy one quite quickly.
One of the upsides of leaving the grounds early is that we’ll be in Port Edward with enough time tonight for a shower and early evening; we also won’t have to get up extra early to ensure that we deliver our fish on time. We’ll tie up at a wharf that’s only five minutes from the drop-off point.
Terry has already transferred his catch to our boat, so he’s heading into Prince Rupert while Terry will be joining us in Port Edward.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
Good morning from Sommerville Island, where we anchored again last night after our first day of fishing. Although yesterday started off glassy calm and sunny, by mid-day the wind started to pick up and the tide changed, making things a little rougher (as you saw in the “reeling in the net” video yesterday). Although we were allowed to fish until 10PM, we gave up about 7PM because the fish got sparse, making the bumpy weather not worth it. A relaxing evening in a quiet sheltered bay was just what was needed before giving it another shot this morning.
There’s about 80 fish in the hold now, mostly sockeye with a few pinks and a few springs (including a *big* 20lb one!); hopefully we can double that today. If we get good fishing today we’ll stay as late as we can, getting up extra early to get back to Port Edward tomorrow morning to get the fish on a truck to come down to Vancouver.
Although fishermen are often tight-lipped about their catch, it’s pretty clear that no one had a stellar day yesterday; a ton of people left the fishing grounds even earlier than we did and a few even headed back in the direction of Prince Rupert. There are rumours of some boats that only caught a handful of fish all day. That must be profoundly disheartening…
Time to get some coffee into this groggy body so that we can hit the ground running.
There’s fish out there, somewhere… hopefully Otto can find them.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
So, this whole fishing thing… what’s it like? Here’s a short summary of the process, based on what I’ve seen so far…
1) Pick your starting spot. Undoubtedly there’s a ton of experience and wisdom involved, but to the undescerning eye it looks an awful lot like throwing a dart at a map. As the day progresses, based on your own catch, the reports from your friends, and rumours from further afield, you adjust your location accordingly. The Department of Fisheries and Oceans (DFO) sets all sorts of rules on the general areas you can fish and if there are any special restrictions to protect species of fish you’re not fishing for. In our case, we were required to stay a half-mile offshore on one side and a mile offshore on the other to let a coast-hugging species of fish get by us. Also, the area in which we’re allowed to fish is specifically proscribed by the DFO
2) Set your gear. In the case of a gillnetter, your “gear” is a net (called “mesh”) of specific size for the species you’re trying to catch. Fish that are too small can swim right through the mesh and fish that are too large just bounce off. For fish that are the right size, they go headfirst into the net and stop when they get stuck, usually when the net is as far as their dorsal fin (the bit one on their back). If they try to back out, the net gets caught in their gills, holding them in. (Hence the name: gillnet). The net has a lead-core rope strung along the bottom and a string of “corks”, or floats, on top. Large orange marker buoys are attached to the start and end of the net to help make them more visible to other passing boats. You roll it all off the net drum, as seen below, and get it in the water in a slightly arcing shape. There are specific restrictions, also, on how long and how deep your net can be.
3) Let your gear “soak”. In really calm weather, like we have today, you can actually see the “corks” bobbing when a fish hits the net; if you see several floats go below the water, you know you’ve got a big one. “Soak time” is another restriction the DFO can put on you when they’re trying to protect a species at risk; shorter soak times mean that it’s less likely that something will get caught in your net and die. In our case, there was little concern and so there were no restrictions placed on us. Also, every once in awhile, we’d cruise along the length of the cork line to get an idea of how many fish were in the net.
4) Reel in your gear. When it’s time to bring it aboard, you first have to hook one of the large buoys and attach the rope to your net drum. Then, you start to reel it in. As you reel fish in, you have to untangle them from the net; if it’s a species you’re not supposed to catch and looks pretty energetic still, it can go straight back in the water. There are also “revival” tanks that are dark boxes with sea-water pumped in; the water moves pretty quickly and has a good amount of oxygen, so it perks the fish right up, before they’re released back into the water.
5) Count and store your fish. The fish, when caught, have to be carefully counted before being placed in your fish holds, which are full of salt water/ice slush. For some species, like spring salmon (but not sockeye) they have to be cleaned (gutted) right away because enzymes in the gut can break down the flesh quite quickly.
6) Lather, rinse and repeat. At least until your fishing day ends, which is either when the DFO has said to stop (10:00PM, in our case), when the weather becomes too rough or when you have a couple “water catches” (nets with no fish) in a row and feel dejected enough to stop.
The wind is starting to pick up here and the waves are getting bigger; apparently this is common for the body of water we’re in right now. We’ll see how long we feel like continuing to fish, before retreating to the bay for the night before resuming tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll be asleep quickly, so I’ll wish you a goodnight for now.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
It’s just after 5:00AM on our first day of fishing; we’re out of bed and heading to where we’re going to drop our nets first this morning. On the radio, Otto, Terry and Rod are all staking out their spots, fairly far removed from one another; in theory, that’s of benefit to all three so that they have a better sense faster of where the good fishing is going to be.
Already, most of the others who anchored in the same bay as us last night have headed off to claim their spot. It’s not looked on very kindly when one fisherman fishes too close to another, so those who head out early usually get the best spots.
Nets can’t get dropped into the water until 6:00AM, but there’s still a lot that needs to be done: breakfast needs to be cooked (bacon and eggs, of course!), the pumps that feed the revival tanks need to be switched on, Otto needs to suit up into his rubber gear and the big orange floats need to be in position to be deployed.
The sun hasn’t peeked over the mountains yet, but it’s looking like it’s going to be a great day; winds are calm and the tides don’t look to be very strong. It’s looking like a good day for fishing. Let’s hope it’s also a good day for catching.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
Hello from the fishing grounds! We’ve just met up with Otto’s fishing buddies, Rod and Terry, in a long protected bay where we’ll be anchored for the night. There are over fifty other gillnet boats here as well, waiting for tomorrow at 6:00AM when we can all start fishing. Most of the boats are in pairs or threes, tied up together with one boat dropping their anchor.
I’ve come to learn that fisherman are a competitive group (squeezing accurate information about fishing conditions from these guys is as easy as holding on to a greased pig.) That said, everyone seems to have a couple or three friends that they can trust, sharing (mostly accurate) info as they try to assess the scene. I suspect those are exactly the groupings I see people tied up into.
The trip up here was uneventful, and shorter than expected, possibly because of all the long days of traveling we’ve had just to get here. We’re about six hours north of Prince Rupert and can see Alaska from here. (I joked on Facebook this afternoon that Sarah Palin might be able to see Russia from her house, but we can see Alaska from the boat…)
The area we’re in is huge and beautiful; there’s still snow on the mountains around us, but the water is glassy calm.
Let’s hope it’s like that tomorrow. Also, tonight will be my first night on the boat where we’re not tied up to a dock to sleep; I wonder how much we’ll move around when we’re only held in place by an anchor.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
It’s been a bit of a whirlwind since we hit Prince Rupert. Before tying up, we hit the fuel dock and filled the Eldorado back up; it seems that we burned through almost $600 in diesel to get from Port Hardy to here. Running a boat sure isn’t cheap.
Not long after we got into Prince Rupert, a local Twitter-friend who’s also a host for CBC Radio Prince Rupert interviewed both Otto and I about the Community Supported Fishery and my documentation on this blog. As soon as it gets broadcast (possibly on Wednesday), I’ll be sure to post the interview online.
In the afternoon, I did a little poking around Rupert. Not unlike North Vancouver, it’s nestled between the mountains and the water and even though it’s not a large town (only about 13,000 people), it’s still an impressively diverse and active community. The wharf we’re staying at is in an area called Cow Bay; everything is painted in black and white splotches–it’s significantly more adorable than it sounds. The cruise ship terminal is nearby, as are a number of interesting-looking stores that I’ll have to come back and visit when I’m back in town. I also stopped at Breakers, a nice (and busy) waterfront pub, to use their wireless internet to send off a few emails. (Buy a beer and get free internet? Sounds like a great deal to me…)
After poking around Cow Bay for a bit, I wandered up to the Museum of Northern BC. In addition to information about the history of the area, it hosts a breathtaking collection of North Coast art. There’s something special about them being displayed so much closer to their originating communities, some of which we’ve already visited on this journey.
Not long afterward, I wandered back to the boat and found that Otto was still “up-town” at the Safeway, so I decided to take a little wander around the docks to take photos. That’s about when I met the guy with the dungeness crab that I mentioned in yesterday’s video.
This morning I had breakfast at the Crest Hotel; their restaurant has an incredible view of the water and the island across from from Rupert. They also make a mean smoked salmon eggs benedict. On my way there, I stopped to offer to help a group of Filipino men take a picture of themselves and by the end of the ensuing conversation, I got offered a ride on their Ecuador-bound grain freighter. Unfortunately, I have a great girlfriend and an exploding garden to get back to so I had to turn them down. After breakfast I wandered back to the boat so that we can head up toward the Nass River fishing grounds, a trip that’ll take about six hours and put us within a stone’s throw of Alaska. Time to shove off!
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
I’ve been a little negligent in my blogging the last couple of days; I’ve got a ton to tell you about our evening/morning in Port Edward (just south of Prince Rupert) and our day in Prince Rupert. Unfortunately, we leave Prince Rupert today at noon to head up to the fishing grounds so that we’re ready to drop the nets in the water at 6AM tomorrow morning, fishing hard until 10PM at night, before doing it all over again on Tuesday. by Wednesday morning we’ll be back in Port Edward, getting the fish on a truck to get down to you. I’m sure that Sonia and Shaun will be in touch soon about that pick up.
In the meantime, a funny thing happened to me on the docks last night…
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
Welcome to Port Edward, a small community just ten miles to the south of Prince Rupert; we’re here to drop off Otto’s chum net and pick up his sockeye net; hopefully, while we’re here we’ll also manage to get some ice for his fish holds and arrange for transportation for this week’s catch down to Vancouver. It seems that the guys that Otto used last year for both ice and transport either aren’t in business this year or haven’t set up shop yet, so Otto and Terry reached out through their fishing friends for leads and suggestions. Fortunately we’ve managed to find both, so our catch in a few days will be shipped down promptly assuming we’re able to get from the fishing grounds to Port Edward by 10:00AM on Wednesday morning. Eminently doable, if we leave around 4:00AM.
(I thought salmon boats ran on diesel, but it turns out they actually run on coffee.)
The real highlight of Port Edward, however, are the shower facilities that we have the opportunity to take advantage of here; they might be drafty, scummy and coin-operated, but it’ll be a heck of a lot easier than trying to wash my armpits in a sink. The showers take loonies, of which we’ve each managed to scrounge a few. Unfortunately, when your time runs out, there’s no advance warning. Suddenly, the hot water shuts off leaving you with a sudden burst of cold to try and a frantic rush through rinsing the rest of the soap off. Why can’t every shower have this associated sense of adventure?
With no need to hurry as the fishing doesn’t start until Monday, we’ll be spending tonight here before heading to Prince Rupert tomorrow to get fuel and spend a couple of town days to renew our food supply.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
Terry had his way; it’s now about 6:30AM and we’ve already been underway for ninety minutes heading out from Hartley Bay. A strong pot of coffee was brewed and we’re now starting passage up the last long channel on our way to Rupert; this one gets particularly narrow in a few places. It’s hard to imagine squeezing by a giant cruise ship or ferry in the narrowest parts of the channel.
I’m sad to see our big travel days come to an end; we’ve managed to travel almost exactly 100 nautical miles each day and that’s given me the opportunity to see more of the south and mid coast of BC than most people get the chance to.
I’d write more but I still can’t think straight yet, let along make my fingers type; good thing Otto’s doing the navigating. Now where’s the darned coffee?
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
We’ve just arrived for the evening in a little Native village (population: about 200) named Hartley Bay; we’re now only 80 nautical miles from Prince Rupert and are planning to get away early in the morning to make it to Port Edward (just south of Prince Rupert) by early afternoon so that Otto can drop off his Chum net and pick up his Sockeye net and take care of a few errands before continuing on to Rupert.
(Sockeye and Chum are different sized salmon and so require a different sized gillnet. Also, the sockeye fishery is earlier and so Otto was able to store that net up north before continuing to fish with his chum net further south at the end of last season.)
Hartley Bay’s big claim to fame is that it was the community that came out to help the survivors from the sinking of the Queen of the North, the BC Ferry that hit nearby Gil Island and sank. In this tiny community there’s a longhouse, a school, a community centre, a fish hatchery and fifty or so houses to go along with the small wharf. All of these are connected by a series of raised wooden boardwalks that go right to each building’s front door. Also, there’s no need for cars in a place like this; instead, everyone drives ATVs around.
Much smaller than Bella Bella or Klemtu, this community is unexpectedly central to Otto and his fishing companions. On the dock, we met up with old friends Juggie and Charlie and there was a quick exchange of information often called “dock talk”.
Listening to their banter one could quickly get a sense of how the fishing season was going. The Barkley Sound openings (which CSF members have already recieved some fresh salmon from) were noted as being quite productive, with larger than usual fish coming in so far. Also, word from the north (where we’re headed) is that the Nass River fishery is also doing well; decent amounts of fish were being caught earlier in the week in the area’s first opening and the next opening (which will be Otto’s first of the season) has already been announced as a two-day opening. This is a good sign that this may be a productive year, since these openings are typically only a single day.Time to head to bed; we’ve got an early start in the morning… about 5:00AM if Terry has his way.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
If you’ve been to the Aquarium, you’re bound to be a little unimpressed, at first, with how little life there seems to be out here. Yes, there are more seagulls than you can shake a stick at, but otherwise the water, mountains and trees seem positively devoid of life. Until you look closer…
The first signs weren’t impressive, just a little wisp of mist a mile or two ahead of us on the water. And then another… and a third, followed by a big black tail and then… nothing. Twice more we’ve come across solitary or small groups of humpback whales. Unfortunately, as soon as we get within a half-mile or so, you get one flip of the tail and then those behemoths dive and they don’t surface again until we’re long past, it seems.
Even more elusive have been the famous orcas (formerly known as killer whales, before being thoughtfully rebranded by well-intentioned naturalists). I know it’s still early on Day Four of our trip, but I’ve still not seen a single orca, even in places like Alert Bay and Robson Bight (on day two) that are supposed to be home of some of the largest resident populations on the coast.
Since then, by watching carefully I’ve seen sea otters, sealions, eagles, jumping salmon and of course dolphins. The dolphins we saw on our second day coming into Port Hardy were nothing compared to the ones we saw about an hour ago near Butedale. Those little white-sided torpedos were playing in our bow spray for almost ten minutes. I tried, in vain, to get a good picture of the frolicking, but those darned critters are just too spastic and unpredictable. Princess Royal Island is to our port side (left), and it’s known for having a particularly dense population of Kermode (Spirit) bears; despite the fancy name, they’re just black bears who happen to have a particular recessive gene that makes them ivory white. Unfortunately, I highly doubt that any of them will saunter down to the water’s edge to wave hello.
Since we’re on the topic of wildlife, I should update you on the bar in Shearwater. No rum was consumed and no sea shantys were sung, just a couple pints of good beer in the company of a bunch of working fisherman. There was a ton of fishing memorabilia around, including flags representing many of the fish packing companies what were active on the coast. Also, above the bar was a framed piece of the hull of a fishing boat that had sunk with all hands lost. Definitely a sober (pardon the pun) reminder that for all its magestic beauty, this is still a danergous place that deserves respect.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
We’ve just ducked quickly behind a small island so that Otto can show me the First Nations community of Klemtu; if you didn’t have a navigational chart to direct you, you could easily miss it given how well-protected it is. It’s not a large community, maybe 500-800 people, but is served by BC Ferries and so has an impressive ferry dock and a few roads. (Which must lead to nowhere, because there are no other communities on the island.)
There are a number of small communities like this one spread throughout the mid-coast; add in all the inhabited lighthouses, swanky fishing camps, logging operations and boat traffic and you quickly realize that this is a far less desolate place than it seems. As Namu showed us, though, there was once a great deal more activity on this coast than there is today. Improved engine and refrigeration technology means boats can travel a longer distance to a cannery or processing plant and that means less need for many of these small but interesting places.
For all that I’m getting to see on this trip; there’s so much more around the corner, hidden away. I could spend a lifetime just exploring this place.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
The end of another long day traveling and we’re now pulling into Shearwater. In case you find it hard to find on a map, it’s across the channel from Bella Bella and is a much smaller community. During the Second World War, there was a sizable hangar here for large amphibious planes; the same kind that were also in long-forgotten hangers at Vancouver’s Jericho Beach.
Today, though it’s a popular stop-over point for fisherman and we’ll be spending a night here. Just pulling around the point, you can see there’s not much here… half the hangar is still there (now used for boat repair) and there are two wharfs; one (costly one) for pleasure craft and (a free) one for fishing boats like ours. The Eldorado is designed to be self-contained; we don’t need niceties like water or power hookups most of the time.
Apparently there’s a pub here that Terry’s itching to introduce me to. I just pray that I won’t get pressed into drinking large amounts of navy rum and singing sea shantys. Wish me luck…
It’s hard to convey, in words or even in pictures, just how breathtaking this trip is. The size and scope of the geography, the ingenuity and determination of those that live and work in its most obscure places, and the unexpected relics left behind–they all defy description.
When Otto heard that I had a family connection with a little village called Namu that we passed today, he offered to duck the boat into the harbor to let me take a closer look. In its heyday, Namu was a thriving community with a big cannery and all the amenities you’d want in a small town: movie theatre, laundromat, bowling alley, liquor store and more. There were sizable Japanese and Native communities here, as well, with their own “villages” connected to Namu. At its busiest, the cannery was operating 24 hours a day in three shifts, processing tons and tons of fish. My grandfather spent a couple of years working in the cannery here.
As the fishing industry changed and centralized, and as once-bountiful stocks became depleted, Namu was all but abandoned. As you can see from these images, the years and the climate have not been kind to the structures at Namu; there’s now a newer float-home that was towed in, but almost everything else looks completely derelict and unsafe. It’s really too bad; it would’ve been an amazing place to see in its prime.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
Welcome to the edge of the world. The weather forecast was quite good and so we’re now about three hours north of Port Hardy, nearing a place named, somewhat ominously, Cape Caution. We’ve left the protection of the cluster of small islands to the north-east of Vancouver Island and are now crossing unprotected waters. (“Those of you on the port (left) side of the boat, if you look carefully, you can see Japan.”)
After spending so much time in narrow channels working out way up between Vancouver Island and the Mainland, everything now seems overwhelming in its expanse. This is the largest stretch of unprotected water we’ll be crossing during our trip up to Prince Rupert and I can understand why this is a stretch of the trip that demands respect; if the weather suddenly turned and things got unpleasant, there’s nowhere to run and hide for a couple hours of travel in any direction.
Today, the water is very different than yesterday afternoon’s excitement: the amplitude might be almost the same (6-8 feet) but the frequency is significantly lower. Those were waves yesterday, these are called swells. There’s no crashing and spraying, just a languid rise and fall as we ride from crest to trough and back again. Supposedly this is the stuff that can make you seasick, not yesterday’s weather. Fortunately, I feel fine so far.
A few more hours up and past Cape Caution and we’ll be back in protected waters.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
Another restful sleep on the boat; even thought I’m not doing much physically, the trip itself seems kind-of exhausting. Otto assures me this is because of the constant drone of the engine as well as the movement of the boat. To keep yourself level with the horizon as the boat rocks back and forth uses your core muscles more than one would expect. Even though I’m just sitting, watching and eating, I might actually lose weight on this trip.
Speaking of eating, food is pretty basic on the Eldorado. There’s a very small fridge (smaller even than a bar fridge) and a propane stove/oven with only two elements. Since I’d like to be more than just a tourist on the boat, I’ve taken on most of the cooking duties. In the short term, anyway, it’s kind of fun to improvise with the very limited supplies available. Maybe that’s the next cooking show the Food Network needs to broadcast… “Working Food: How to make a delicious, nutritious meal with few supplies in a tiny kitchen as everything slides everywhere.” I think it’d be a hit.
Once Otto gets back from walking Boris, we’ll head over to the fuel dock and turn on the weather forecast; if today is going to be like yesterday afternoon, we’ll probably wait it out in Port Hardy and try again tomorrow. I posted something on Facebook about the possibility of “running amok” in Port Hardy if we had the day off but was quickly reminded that on northern Vancouver Island one should obey local custom and “walk amok”; to do otherwise would definitely make me seem like a tourist.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
We spent most of the day traveling with a half-dozen other boats including The “Proud Canadian” (a seigne boat converted into a trawler), the “Orca Chief” (a huge boat that mostly supplies fingerlings–baby fish–from the hatcheries to the fish farms) and Terry’s boat, the “Island Bounty” (another gillnet boat a similar size to ours). Because of the way the tides rush through Seymour Narrows (a narrowing of the channel an hour north of Campbell River), it’s not worth the effort to fight the tide and so everyone heading to the same destination (Port Hardy) all depart at roughly the same time.
Our travel in the middle half of the day was pretty uneventful, although we did see a few unusual sights. The most notable was an intact (but repainted) BC Ferry probably being used as a bunk house for a logging camp on Vancouver Island.
A couple hours later, Johnstone Straight opened up (Just after Malcolm Island, if you’re following along at home) and the weather started to change. A wind picked up and before long we had 6-8 foot waves crashing into our bow as we headed towards Port Hardy. Those may have been small by nautical standards, but they were decently impressive for a city kid who complains when the bus driver stops too fast.
In my efforts to be helpful, I offered to do dishes after dinner, which proved to be quite a challenge as I kept losing a significant amount of water to the back-and-forth sloshing in the dish basin. Once it became too difficult, I took a break and joined Otto up front for awhile and was almost instantly rewarded with a pair of splashes in the corner of my eye that looked nothing like the rest of the slop around us.
After a moment or two of hard concentration, trying to track down the source of the splashes, I spotted a pair of dolphins just a few feet from the boat, enjoying a ride in our bow spray. They’d appear and disappear only to be replaced by others. As Otto pointed out, having dolphins keep your boat company is considered an excellent omen: hopefully that holds true for Otto, Terry and the others fishing up north this season.
Once we turned the point into Port Hardy, the seas calmed down somewhat and our companion boats the “Proud Canadian”, the “Orca Chief” and Terry’s boat, the “Island Bounty” all got into Port Hardy within 15-20 minutes of each other and three of the four of us rushed for the fuel dock, which was unfortunately closed for the evening and so we continued on to the wharves in Port Hardy to tie up for the night.
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During the trip, you can either check this blog for the latest entries, or you can go to this interactive map of all the blog posts related to this trip. You can also find photos from the trip on Flickr.
With everything going on we cant believe we almost missed it! Happy St. Patricks Day... May the luck of the Irish be with us all.
Its time to get your 2020 Season Pass to the Grist Mill and Gardens! https://ift.tt/3cpVk0J A few highlights were looking forward to: - A Summer Concert Series thats going to blow your socks off! Weve got a Grammy award-winning (!!!) musician coming this year with their band a duo with two Junos on their mantle an exceptional indigenous artist whos about to be a household name and more! And of...
There are those who leave their mark on history. There are those who leave their mark on canvas. There are those who leave their mark on our hearts. Then there are those who leave a mark on all three. Where will you leave your mark?
