Leg 4, Liz McLoughlin, Tom Hall
From Prince Rupert to Sandspit, Haida Gwaii (Queen Charlotte Islands)
June 23 - July 9, 2004

Wednesday, June 23 (At the dock in Prince Rupert). We spent our bumpiest night to date on the wave- and windward side of the dock, though with five fenders well placed, Onward managed to survive without a scratch. Aside from several miles of wind fetch to the west the immediate area is subject to the wakes of many fishing and pleasure boats. We re-newed our plea for an inside location and are “first in line.” After showers and breakfast we spent the rest of the morning working on the log and website. Liz rented the wi-fi unit, placed it so that it could communicate with the Yacht Club office, and began the time-consuming job of updating our website while Tom went through his usual more detailed engine and systems check that is done in port. In the evening we took a two-mile walk west along the shore, passing the brand new cruise ship wharf and floats, tourist stores, an old and partially dismembered cannery, and a train station complete with the Skeena train waiting on the track. The Skeena makes a two-day daylight journey three times weekly between Prince Rupert and Jasper, spending the night in Prince George. It was fun checking out the train at close hand and better still watching a major freight train switching operation as they prepared a long stretch of cars that would be loaded on the following morning onto an Alaska-bound barge. Tom, an unrepentant numbers man, estimated that Anchorage would soon be the proud recipient of 30 miles of one foot diameter piping (probably for a gas line), a zillion board feet of 2x4s and 2x6s encased in fancy plastic wrappers, and quite a few tank cars of toxic fluids with all sorts of warning labels. As we walked further toward the loading docks (which were off limits to non-employees) we passed an estimated 5000 new crab pots, stacked six high and seven deep for a long stretch of the waterfront. A severe reduction in the number male crabs is predicted for the coming months (the females are tossed back to make more males). Back to the boat by dusk and another night on the windward float, though less bouncy than the first one.

Thursday, June 24 (At the dock in Prince Rupert). Another day of chores. Liz worked to correct the website, posted yesterday. The font she had used, attractive on her computer, resulted in fragmentary lines on the website so, back to the drawing boards and a different font. A sailboat occupying a protected inner float left and we hurried around to tie up in a tight squeeze immediately behind Peacemaker, a 35' narrow wooden classic that had been built by the current owner’s father in 1942. He had temporarily left to refuel and returned minutes after we docked; with no bow thruster and a very tight space he slipped his “camel” through the eye of the local dock’s needle. If we had dropped our anchor we might have sunk him. We rented a car for 24 hours and proceeded to do the laundry and shopping. In the latter afternoon we drove to the end of the dirt road that paralleled the track and harbor; no more freight cars but a barge with a load of them was a short distance out, held in position by a large tug. Liz went to watch the cruise ship, Norwegian Spirit, which was loading its last passengers (it does weekly Seattle-Skagway round trips) while Tom completed phone calls to his children. We ended the day with short auto trip to the float plane docks at the north end of Kaien Island; Tom is like a moth near a light bulb when it comes to planes and he admired the seven Beavers, two Otters, and one turbo Otter waiting for tomorrow’s flights. Back to the boat with a stop to top off the car and dinghy’s fuel tanks, and a much quieter night at an inside float.

Friday, June 25 (At the dock in Prince Rupert). Another dry but cloudy day. Liz spent some more time tweaking the website. With Peacemaker out fishing, we moved Onward into its position and lowered the anchor and 300' of chain on the dock. Time to re-paint the colored sections we had placed at 33' intervals to inform us as to the amount of chain we had out. An electronic chain counter would have cost $700 so we are using the cheaper paint method. Tom struggled vainly with the broken foot pump backup for the electric water pump. When we ordered the boat, he asked for a manual pump since it would be most unfortunate to have an electric pump failure and then be unable to access our 220-gallon water supply. The pump developed a slow leak, dripping onto the engine room floor; not enough to empty the tank or sink the boat, but an annoyance and a sign of potentially worse to come. After much trouble he confirmed that the pump couldn’t be removed without cutting a hole in the galley floor and/or cutting the pump in two and/or risking loss of the output hose, which was short and nearly inaccessible. So, he re-secured the pump, took off the input hose and set to plugging it with inserts obtained from a local plumbing supply store. Despite maximum tightening of the hose clamps and several douses with spurting water he still had a slow drip. A definitive fix will have to await the morrow and a new type of plug, a on-off ball valve. At 4 PM we went over to visit with new friends Alex and Deborah Haase on their Nordhavn 47, Kellie Anne. Alex was a recently retired Delta pilot and Deb a long-time flight attendant. They had sold their home, purchased the boat, and after a summer of roaming the NW they were planning on going south, through the Canal, and perhaps over to Europe. Our intended short visit ended up being a wonderful three hours, having a tour of their fine boat and exchanging tales, wine and snacks with them and their friends Doug and Joan Buddenhagen on Wanderlust, a 47' Bayliner, and another couple on a Grand Banks. Back to our own vessel, dinner and a quiet night in the shelter of a boat shed next to our float.

Saturday, June 26 (Prince Rupert to Kumealon Inlet; 5.5 hours, 34.1 miles). A leisurely rising, showers, pancakes and then a few last minute errands. Liz walked to town to mail postcards, buy stamps and get a newspaper; Tom finally managed to insert a ball value plug into the foot pump waterline, having a good bath in the process, and then topped off the water tanks to replace what he had spilled on himself making the repairs. After the gruesome tale the previous evening about a new 47' trawler that had lost its “strongback” rods holding up its keel cooler exhaust and paravane poles when off Pt Reyes, near San Francisco Bay, we gave a close check to our own mast supports. All OK, good cotter pins, no cracks in the base plates. Our mast has much less strain on it than does a boat with deployed paravanes. We left the dock at 11:30 and headed down the channel and south, wending our way through quite a few inbound fishing boats. We crossed Chatham Sound under cloudy skies verging at times on a light fog and on a calm sea; at times we could hardly tell where the sea became sky. We passed our twice- used Lewis Island anchorage, then Kennedy Island, and into the northern end of Grenville Channel, the main north-south route of the cruise ships. Six miles down we turned east into West, or Kumealon, Inlet and at 5 PM anchored near its SE head. The inlet is the site of active logging and midway in we passed a float plane float, complete with three men awaiting a plane which soon arrived and minutes later, left. During our stay at least four more plane visits occurred though except for old clearcuts visible from our anchorage, there were no other signs of logging activity.

Sunday, June 27 (At anchor in Kumealon Inlet). Calm night and morning with intermittent rain until about noon. We spent the morning and early afternoon reading. At 3:30 we set out in the kayaks to explore the tidal falls and lagoon, with a first stop to the 32' Grand Banks trawler, Zambesi, which had joined us nearby several hours before. As chance would have it, and a very improbable chance it was, we had met the owners, David Thompson and Evelyn Ashcroft, at the 40th Anniversary celebration of the Public Health Institute of Oakland, CA, the previous April. We knew they had a boat and had a vague sense of having met them before but it wasn’t until Evie mentioned where she worked that we recalled the encounter. What a coincidence, same cove, same day, going in opposite directions in a very big piece of real estate, and we actually made contact with them (we usually exchange waves but not words with other boats in the same anchorage). We then continued our paddling to the lagoon entrance where we spent an other-worldly half hour wending our way through the foam created by the still emptying lagoon. It was low tide on the outside but the lagoon exit was about five-feet higher so the water poured through in a flood, creating acres of foam. We felt like ice breakers, plowing our way through foot-high foam, drifting between the main stream and the backwater currents. The tide was down some 12-feet below the high water line so the view above, into the overhanging trees and now bared rock islands, to the sides into the brown kelp, black mussels and jagged coral-like accretions, and down into the clear water and visible bottom, was enchanting. Back to Onward, another fine dinner in part courtesy of hamburger left by the May Misty Fjords cruise, and then a visit by our friends from the Zambesi. We gave them a tour of our vessel and had a great time yarning about our respective boating and shoreside activities. The barometer rose 3 mb during the day to 1026 mb so perhaps good weather will be coming.

Monday, June 28 (Kumealon Inlet to Gasboat Cove, Porcer Island; 3.1 hours, 21.1 miles). A quiet night, occasional light rain, overcast and calm in the morning. Up anchor at 11:18, timed to catch the start of the ebb tide and out into Grenville Channel. We traveled parallel to and several knots faster than a large tug towing two barges, each with a multi-unit new beige and green residential building, the second one with a large propane tank at the stern. Since each entryway had a very large salmon painted over it we assume this is a new fishing lodge, perhaps destined to remain on floats. Liz took some great photos of it; glassy calm water, a narrow bank of clouds 1000' feet up making a white band against the dark green mountains, and two fishing lodges wending their way north at stately speed. We put the pedal to the metal, upped the rpms by 200 to 1800, added another 0.8 knots, and slowly passed and crossed the tug’s path with a good margin to spare. The tug was headed to Prince Rupert and we, down Ogden Channel around the SE side of Porcher Island. At Grant Point we turned NW to traverse narrow, rock-strewn Gasboat Passage and then are hard right into “L-shaped” Gasboat Cove. Anchor down at 2:24, with the balance of the afternoon spent on the laptops and reading. We had a shrimp and spaghetti dinner. The night was calm, though with occasional rain.

Tuesday, June 29 (Gasboat Cove to Crab Trap Cove, Porcer Island; 1.1 hours, 7.4 miles). A peaceful night and calm morning though with intermittent light rain and occasional rays of sun. We made the short trip via Kitkatla Channel and entered the cove sandwiched between reefs, rocks and sand bars. Several of the small islands had white sand beaches, a rarity in these parts. A crab boat left just as we arrived and Liz’s eyes “burned” with determination to make her $100 fishing license begin to pay its way. After lunch we lowered the dinghy and set our crab trap some distance from Onward and a suitable distance from several other traps and the place where the crab boat had just pulled its trap. Liz certainly didn’t want to seek crabs in a location already “crabbed out.” We spent most of the afternoon reading, followed by shoulder exercises for Liz and a brief dinghy trip to float over reefs at low tide at the end of the cove. Tom also installed a coat hook on the outside of the main cabin to accommodate our wet foul weather gear. Liz made a huge pot of beef stew with all sorts of good vegetables in it that will serve us for at least three days. At bed time the west wind was still a 10 knots and with now tide covered windward reefs no longer blocking a few miles of wavelet fetch, we started the night we more bow bouncing that we have had all summer, a nice way to be rocked to sleep.

Wednesday, June 30 (Crab Trap Cove to Phoenix Island Cove, Porcer Island; 0.8 hours, 4.3 miles). The wind died, the night was calm, and the barometer steady at 1018, still predicting rain. On glassy water we zipped out to the crab trap and found one keeper male and a relatively small star fish. The bait was gone, the star fish removed and the crab was soon in the cooking pot, ready for Liz’s lunch. We left at 11:30 for the short trip across the entrance to Porcher Inlet and into narrow Phoenix Island Cove. Eight-mile long Porcher Inlet, which nearly splits the island in two, would have been a fine place to explore but for a few compelling problems; a very narrow entrance, many rocks and a tortuous channel, a tidal flow that reaches 7 knots, a steep-to fjord-like profile beyond the narrows, and the absence of decent anchorages once inside. We’ll leave such exploration to those with small, fast outboard vessels. At 4:15 we left for a one hour kayak trip near the bottom of a higher low water, with lots of the inlet revealed but still lots of the shallows still covered by water. We checked out the submerged rocks, the incoming Phoenix Creek stream, the exit of a small tidal lagoon, and went through the pass at the bitter end of the inlet but were unable to make a circumnavigation of the island that shielded us from Kitkatla Inlet due to now dry tidal flats. After a dinner of chicken chunks and vegetables we had a spectacular sunset, graced by nearby scoters and the faint but clearly audible sounds of hundreds of small fish surfacing throughout the inlet. Another lovely day.

Thursday, July 1 (Phoenix Creek Cove to Freeman Passage Cove, Porcher Island Peninsula; 1.5 hours, 7.7 miles). A quiet night and a sunny, calm morning, at least for awhile. After breakfast we left on an hour’s kayak trip, this time toward the outlet of our cove and around most of the more westerly of the Phoenix Islands but were unable to make it through the inter-island pass back to the boat since this time we had the lower low to contend with. Two days short of a full moon, we now had tidal ranges approaching 26 feet and the view up from our kayak level was awesome. Lots of kelp on the western-facing shores, little kelp on those facing east; large trees washed high onto the windward shores, submerged rocks now only several feet under, old growth forest all around with many trees angled out as much as 40-50 feet from the shoreline, and bird sounds throughout the forest when we would stop to listen. A beautiful excursion. Up anchor at 11:00, across Kitkatla Inlet on near glassy water, and west through rocky and narrow Freemen Passage that separates Porcher Island Peninsula from Goschen Island. We timed our passage to head into the last two hours of the flood, perhaps the best time for transiting since the tidal current is reduced, the heading current slows one’s speed and thus increases maneuverability and heaven forbid, should you run aground, the tide is still rising. We rounded a buoy marking the entrance to Hecate Strait and headed into a short, very narrow and shallow cove. As advertised, there were three large mooring buoys festooned with car tires to keep them from denting fishing boats awaiting good weather for fishing outside of the protection of Porcher Island. Hecate Strait is well known for producing gales and worse on very short notice so these buoys, located in a well protected inlet that otherwise doesn’t offer enough room for anchoring, are most appreciated. We took the first one since the remaining two were on the other side of a five-foot spot, the same as our draft, and spring tides expected, we could have ended up on the bottom. High tide was reached an hour after our arrival and then the rain began, hesitantly at first and then, by all appearances, to stay.

Friday, July 2 (Freeman Passage Cove to Totem Inlet, Dolphin Island; 2.2 hours, 13.8 miles). A quiet night on the mooring buoy, at least until 1 AM when we heard the buoy “knocking” on our bow. Up in a flash to make sure it was the rubber tires and not the 2" diameter rusty steel tube to which we had tied our bowlines. The tide had changed and was contrary to the light winds so we were nestled up to the buoy, but apparently it was only the tires that bumped us, not the steel – which would have made bad dents in our bow’s gelcoat finish. Back to the sack and only several more bumps heard during the night. The view on arising was most impressive! At 8:10 we had a spring tide low, 0.4 feet above “lowest low water,” and 7 feet lower than the previous evenings “higher low water.” We could almost have jumped ashore from the stern and had a depth of only 5'7", versus a draft of 5'. Thank heavens for the mooring buoy; with an anchor in such a narrow inlet we would have run aground. With occasional rays of sun peeping through the high clouds we took pictures, had breakfast, and then spent the next two hours awaiting an adequate tide level to leave the inlet. Tom all but finished the medical thriller, Fatal by Michael Palmer and Liz edited the morning’s pictures.
At 11 we cast off from our buoy, inched our way out of the inlet and into the Pacific swells for our trip SW down Hecate Strait. Today was our day for logs! Big ones, little ones, end-on ones (hard to see), and clumps of bull kelp and rock weed caught in the flood tide lines. Tom had to go off the navigation track so often he finally when on autopilot and steered around them while Liz read our fascinating book by Bishop John Spong (Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism). Spong makes a powerful case that while the Bible cannot be taken literally, as an inerrant source of truth, it nevertheless conveys a powerful message of great meaning to Christians. And, we saw our first Orca, a large male that surfaced at least four times quite near our boat.
After several hours of bouncing on a small beam sea we turn inland to enter Schooner Passage and then into Totem Inlet. The entrance is only 40 feet wide but with a controlling minimum depth of 15 feet, in we go, with the last hour of the flood tide. At dead slow, and intermittently in neutral, we zip through a 4 knots, steered through the swirls, in part, with bow thruster alone. The inside first basin is a gem; ample anchoring room, good depth, no sign of human activity, and totally protected from wind and wave. After lunch we launch the dinghy, read a bit and then after placing Liz’s crab trap, spent an hour exploring the second lagoon and even a small third one. At the far end we stop the outboard to drift awhile, marveling at the tangled forest, huge boulders crusted with vegetation, mini-islands and bird activity (bird calls and woodpeckers). The evening was very peaceful, the wind nil, and except for one hour of the genset, quiet reigned.

Saturday, July 3 (Totem Inlet to Larsen Harbour; 1.7 hours, 10.2 miles). We awoke to a surprise; someone had pulled the plug on our inlet! Low tide was predicted for 9 AM, a 0.0 foot tide. The Canadian tide tables use the “lowest low water” (as compared to the US predictions based on “mean lower low water”) which means that Canadian tables essentially never predict “negative” tides. With the following high predicted for 19.9 feet, we were at the bottom of the range, looking up! The inlet appeared both bigger, and smaller; bigger because we were so far down, with about 24-25 feet between the water level and the start of tree branches, and smaller since many parts of the inlet were now bare. Among other surprises was a large, 20 x 5 x 3 feet high rock about 150' from us and in an area where I had considered anchoring the previous afternoon. There was no indication whatsoever of any rock in the main portion of inlet, the first time we had come across a potentially serious charting error. We were in 17 feet of water, and right nearby, we would have grounded out and maybe rolled over. Our preferred practice is to enter harbors on a rising tide, to cruise around a bit checking the depth sounder, and then select our place. We’ll follow this practice even more in the future, our motivation further enhanced by a segment in the recorded weather broadcast that has announced for the past week or more the location of an uncharted rock on Gwaii Haanas that lies only two feet below the water. That rock was surely the unwelcome discovery of a boat.
At dead low we took to our dinghy, cruised around the whole inlet at slow speed, measured the depth in various areas, pulled the crab trap (nothing), saw a curious sea otter, and checked out the entrance to the inlet. We were pleased to find the advertised controlling depth of 15 feet, with steep-to sides and no projections. The current at mid-tide through this 40-foot wide entrance must be impressive given the large capacity of the three lagoons and the need to raise the water level 20 feet. Not wishing to test our ability to buck the current we waited until 1:20 PM to raise anchor, only two hours before predicted high. Our effective departure was delayed a further 15 minutes due to a monstrous load of bull kelp that came up with the anchor. At last, out through the channel against 2 knots of current, Tom working the wheel and bow thruster assertively to keep in the fairway while Liz posted lookout. The 9-mile trip across Browning Entrance to Larson Harbour was most pleasant, 10 knot SW winds, sun and high white clouds, ruffled seas, a few logs to keep the helmsman awake, and Liz reading a chapter in Spong’s book about Paul of Tarsus. We entered Larson Harbor to find none of the advertised kelp blocking the entrance (our experience at Esquibel Island was still vivid in our minds) and none of the five mooring buoys occupied. With our Freeman Passage Cove behind us we were more successful this time picking up the large buoy from the stern and then working the line forward to the bow, though the metal base plate, marginally protected by tires, still concerns us. We finally rigged a third short line, directly down from the bow roller, to keep the buoy from migrating to one or the other side of the bow during times when wind and current put Onward sidewise to the buoy. The evening was beautiful; clear skies, a long and lovely sunset, no wind, glassy water, and low tide with all the nearby rocks and shores replicated by their inverse reflection in the water. The lower image was like an Impressionist painting, with the reflection slightly blurred. Early to bed, since it would be early to rise on the morrow.

Sunday, July 4 (Larsen Harbour to Sandspit Harbour, Moresby Island, Haida Gwaii (Queen Charlottes); 9.1 hours, 62.0 miles). In one of our books Hecate was listed as the 4th most hazardous strait in the world. Shallow soundings, a topography that funnels winds from either the SE (the source of storms) or NW, fast-changing weather and strong tides (up to 24 feet) can lead to steep waves and a very difficult passage. We yearned for calm winds and seas. Alarm at 4:45, off our mooring at 5 AM on the 2nd hour of an ebbing tide, no wind, glassy water, an almost full moon, and fog – enough, but not too much. We headed NE for a mile, ease to the north, rounded a buoy and then locked on to a 51-mile leg to the SW. We had the radar on for the first several hour and at times the fog was very thick. With glassy water the water blended into the sky, 100 feet ahead. For awhile we had to go off autopilot rather frequently to avoid logs and large clumps of seaweed but gradually it lifted and we had adequate visibility. What a fine day to make the crossing of fearsome Hecate Strait; almost no wind and a flat calm until the last two hours and then only about 10 knots from the SE which produced a one foot chop. We timed our departure both to minimize the afternoon winds and to get a boost from the early morning ebb and the midday flood on arrival. Indeed, with a near spring tide and a 20-foot range predicted we hurtled into Skidegate at up to 9.2 knots, 2.5 knots more than our usual cruising speed. Given the many war stories of what Hecate Strait can do with a strong SE blow or worse, a storm, we picked a fine day. During our crossing Liz read through, section by section, our radar manual so that we could review and test the various features. As with many such modern conveniences it has much more capability that we will likely need or retain. We entered the new Sandspit Harbour at 2 PM. Unable to raise the harbormaster on the radio we wandered around the marina, made a tight U-turn, and finally found a spot on a vacant wharf where we could rest our weary boat, and bodies. The passage was fine but we have no interest in motoring 16 days to Hawaii or other distant destinations. The balance of the day was spent checking out the small marina (no services available). We talk with the local Coast Guard officer (same man we had met in Campbell River two years ago when we discussed the voyage of the Canadian sailboat Dove, that did the NW Passage). We visited with Canadians on several other boats, then turned in.

Monday, July 5 (In port, Sandspit Harbour). We awoke to intermittent rain and another 20-foot very low tide. After breakfast well needed showers and then reading. At noon we walked 2.5 miles to the airport, with several stops along the way. The most depressing was the charred remains of a small store selling hardware, clothing and camping goods that had burned down the previous week, the fire started by spontaneous combustion of flammables near a refrigeration unit. Nothing left but a chimney and much debris. We were informed that the propane cooking canisters, kerosene, paint and other chemicals made the fire especially fierce. Fortunately there was no wind so nearby houses were not affected. With all houses on wells and no hydrants they had two fire trucks at the scene and one filling its tanks. Lunch at the airport followed by an informative stop at the visitor center. The islands had experienced a 6.7 earthquake the previous week and are subject to many quakes but no significant damage and only one fatality, a ringneck dove that died of a heart attack. Haida Gwaii sits on the edge of the continental shelf. To the east Hecate Strait is very shallow (50-300 feet) and to the west the shore drops off precipitously (to 7,500' feet). The quakes are of the slip-fault type, one side going north, the other south, and the sharp drop off on the west side of the islands highlights the contrast between the two tectonic plates. Back to Onward via car courtesy of our friends from the orientation, Liz and Henry Ellis, who are traveling on Aquarius. After supper we went around the docks, as they say, “kicking docklines,” and were looking at a fine sloop, checking the transom to see its name (Panache). A woman appeared from the cabin, we had a brief exchange, two other heads appeared, and soon we were all caught up in chatting until 10:10, nearly frozen from the now strong wind from the west. Our new friends, Ray Haslam, the skipper, and his friends, Bruce and Kathy Ray, all live in southern BC.

Tuesday, July 6 (In port, Sandspit Harbour). A few sprinkles of rain followed by sun and clouds for most of the day. Liz retrieved our folding bicycle from the dinghy, pumped up the tires (no use for two years), checked it out and then made a two-mile reconnaissance ride to the airport with stops to see the market, laundromat and gift shop. Tom cleaned up the boat and completed the more detailed engine check that is done at each port. After lunch we went for a three-hour hike, almost two hours into the forest on the Dover trail that follows along Haan Creek. It was a beautiful and in places, a very challenging walk through a second growth forest. The creek was low but nevertheless had substantial cedar-stained water. Huge stumps and occasional massive deadfall trees remained from logging that, from the size of the second growth, probably occurred at least 50 years ago. The alders were very tall, moss covered trunks for the first 15-20 feet, and some had started to fall, signaling the start of another stage in arboreal succession. We had a 20-minute meditation near where the trail became indistinct well short of the advertise end, and then returned the same way. The trail map suggested a loop trail that returned on the other bank of the creek but we found no good crossing nor evidence of the other trail. Back on the road we walked over a mile further toward a point named ‘Onward’, but on learning that it was still some distance ahead, and with our ‘dogs’ beginning to yap, we returned to the marina for some R&R. After the sun had dropped below the yardarm we had the pleasure of visit by the crew of Panache for libations and a conversation that ranged from politics to religion to jobs to boats to careers to recreation and back again.

Wednesday, July 7 (In port, Sandspit Harbour). The day was mainly cloudy but with some sun peeking through. Liz gave Tom a much needed haircut after breakfast followed by showers and shampoos. As the old saw goes, "the only difference between a good and a bad haircut is three days or 30 feet" and whatever the outcome, Liz will see Tom's hair style far more than he will. Then off to the RV park with its laundromat. Much to our surprise Sandspit is experiencing quite a drought. A water truck fills the harbour’s tanks; there is a limited supply for the dockside showers and restrooms; no water is available for fish cleaning or boat refilling at the docks. A technician was setting up a salt-water pump for the fish cleaning stations during our stay. After lunch Liz walked to the airport to get our rental car for our afternoon excursion. We stopped at Onward Point and walked a half kilometer loop trail through an exuberant second growth forest, huge rotting stumps and many tall, straight and thin replacement trees now buffeted by a strong NW wind. The point had quite a surge going even though the fetch was no more than 6 miles. Next stop was the ferry landing, 15 kms from the marina, to check out our departure point for a drive on the northern main island, Graham, on the morrow. We made a final visit to the eastern end of the short paved road, the rocky beach just south of the airport and facing Hecate Strait. Huge numbers of whitened logs gave evidence of the storms that hit that shore. Back on the boat we had a fine salmon dinner, courtesy of a local fisherman who offered it to a grateful Liz, and then we continued reading in the gripping tale of the recent recovery of gold from the SS Central America, which sank in 1857 with three tons of gold and over 500 drowned.

Thursday, July 8 (Onward in Sandspit Harbour; we exploring Graham Island by car [Forestry]). Up at 6 AM, on the 7 AM ferry from Alliford to Skidegate, the other side of the Skidegate Inlet that divides Graham and Moresby islands, and then north 45 kms to Port Clements where we had breakfast at the Golden Spruce Motel in anticipation of our five-hour forest management tour offered by the Weyerhaeuser company. Andre, our excellent guide, was a trained forester who works on contract for both Weyerhaeuser and the Haida nation. During our trip we learned about the substantial changes in forestry practices over the years, most notably the practice of logging no more than 40 hectares in one block and in dividing up the logged area into relatively small pieces, interspersed with sections that still have trees. The logging cycle in past years was as little as 30 years but the frequent removal of trees led to soil degradation and reduced yields so now they are up to 80-year cycles, with the Haida community pressing for a further increase to 120 years. Among interesting bits of information:
• Logging companies must submit harvesting plans covering 40, 5, and 1 year beyond the proposed cuts, consider a variety of environmental, cultural and wildlife factors. Government approval can take much time.
• Contracts require that the companies “manage” the forests for years, management involving the provision of roads (and their elimination in some cases), replanting or natural seeding depending on topography, maintaining approximately the same mix of tree species (spruce, cedar and hemlock) as was there originally, protection of cultural features, and leaving no more than 30% residual wood material.
• Average “stumpage “payments are about $45/cubic meter with log sale prices ranging from as low as $20 for hemlock to over $200 for cedar. Thus the mix of species is critical to ensuring that the companies have a profit on their labors.
• Many years ago deer were introduced to the islands and now they are more than plentiful (we counted 8-10 on the side of the road on several of our 40-km trips and ). Young cedar shoots on the mainland is apparently distasteful to deer but the cedar variant on the Queen Charlottes is slightly different such that shoots are a deer delicacy. As a result the logging companies have to enshroud the shoots in large PVC pipes to protect them from the deer. Re-planting costs about $5/shoot for cedar and $1/shoot for spruce or hemlock.
• For many years the Queen Charlottes made good touristic use of a Golden Spruce, in effect, an albino spruce tree that appeared golden in the sun. A disgruntled logger, recluse and survivalist “girdled” the tree several years ago and it has died, much to the dismay of the local community. He sent a statement to the local press and among other statements, said he opposed having a “pet tree.” We saw the spruce and it is indeed a sad specimen. Hundreds of years to bring a tree into full maturity, 10 minutes with a chain saw to end its life.
After the forestry trip we spent an hour visiting the Port Clements museum, featuring lots of early logging pictures and equipment, and then drove 20 kms back to Tlell where we spent the balance of the afternoon visiting craft shops. The visit to the Crystal Cabin Gallery was a classic: three women (including Liz) inside checking out all the wonders and spending money while three men lay flat on the grass outside getting ready for potential ‘sticker shock’. As it turned out, we all had a lot of interests in common. The other two couples were from Washington and had just done kayak camping in the Gwaii Haanas park. Back to Port Clements, dinner at the Hummingbird Café, and then a stroll through the hamlet including 20-minute meditation at the end of a long pier out into Masset Sound. A friendly seal kept coming up for a look at us, then a leisurely dive followed by another look, and so on. A quiet night at the Golden Spruce Motel, our first night on land for quite a while.

Friday, July 9 (Onward in Sandspit Harbour; we exploring Graham Island by car [Beachcombing and Music Festival]). After a leisurely breakfast at the Golden Spruce we drove 50 kms north to Masset, Old Masset, and then to the end of the paved road near Tow Hill, several miles short of Rose Spit on the NE end of Graham Island and the southern boundary of Dixon Entrance. Alaska is just over the horizon. On the way we stopped at a small gallery where Liz bought several goodies while Tom perused a tome on the Chinese and western versions of astrology. The description for Leo/goats (born in the year of the goat) did not fit him at all. After parking at the Agate Beach campground, we took a long stroll along a sand and pebble beach to Yakan Point and beyond, acclaimed for its sea life and agates. It was a fine walk under cloudy skies with a brisk wind and at low tide on a broad beach. Many windblown tree trunks and undermined forest shoreline gave testimony to the force of winter storms coming in from the Pacific. No agates but lots of other sea “treasures” to find, especially shells, polished stones and driftwood. Back on the road we returned to Masset and visited a fine maritime museum, filled with memorabilia of early residents in the area. Of special interest was the biography of the man who started up the local cannery, now long defunct. We re-traced our route to Tlell, arriving at 5 PM for the start of a three-day music festival, now celebrating its 10th anniversary. Last December the Queen Charlottes were hit with hurricane-force winds coinciding with a high tide that put much driftwood on the roads and fields and changed the contours in many inlets. Tlell took a pounding, with logs and rocks well inland from the highway and strewn in the festival field. Many hours of hard labor cleared the field for the festivities. Tlell, not even sporting a blinking signal light, is a very improbable location for what has become an attraction for musical groups from eastern Canada, Europe, the Caribbean and even Australia. The first night featured Queen Charlotte musicians, each with a half-hour slot available. With a small population base (~5000) local talent was rather thin but their enthusiasm was a plus. The audience was largely local, many had tents, and the demographics were very much on the young side. At 8 PM, hours before the midnight closing, we headed back to the Golden Spruce for our second night on land.

 

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