Leg 8, Liz McLoughlin and Tom Hall
W. Coast of Vancouver Island – Tofino to Victoria
August 12 - 23, 2004
Thursday, August 12 (at the dock
in Tofino). Fog in the morning but a
fine day in the afternoon. Liz posted the web update and shopped for
groceries while Tom went to the bank, marine store and made phone calls.
We gave Gordon Cranton, a tuna boat skipper (Janice Ann) a tour of Onward,
talked about the methods of tuna fishing and the state of fishing in
BC, and then Tom had a tour of his 47' boat, due to leave at 7PM for
a few days of tuna fishing, trolling 150+ miles offshore. He then visited
with an ENT physician on a sailboat from Portland, OR. After supper
we went for a stroll along the waterfront and watched a fine sunset
followed glorious pink afterglow.
Friday, August 13 (Tofino to God’s Pocket, Meares Island; 1.0
hours, 6.0 miles). Fog in the morning and a nice day thereafter.
Liz visited the native art gallery and checked out the major carvings
of Sanford Williams, the master carver we had met in Friendly Cove.
They were lovely, and pricey; most were in the $8-14,000 range. She
then went to the bead shop and bought hemp and beads to fashion hangings
for her feather collection. Tom did the routine end-of-leg chores; detailed
engine checks, vacuuming the boat, etc. Off at 12:18 in a light fog
heading north via a very intricate channel between rocks and large shoals.
Though crab traps placed in channels are subject to removal we had to
dodge quite a few. Our destination was Adventure Cove but finding a
boat and a float house already there we went across Lemmens Inlet to
God’s Pocket and anchored in the inner cove, surrounded by several
massive oyster farms and with two float houses moored to the shore.
We launched the kayaks and took a long paddle through the farms, outside
of our cove to an adjacent one that had a new farm in the making. On
the way we passed an islet with three seals, including a pup, sunning
themselves, and an eagle on the top rock posing as for a portrait. As
a courtesy to Liz he dropped a moderately large feather right behind
him, crouched forward as if ready for flight, shot out a monster poop
behind him, and then propelled by the aft-bound projectile, departed.
Liz then paddled over to the islet and retrieved the feather, undamaged
from the discharge, and off we went to check out the new oyster farm.
It consisted of a storage shack on a float, new wood planks forming
rectangular frames from which the oyster trays will be suspended, large
piles of black plastic trays which will be hung down vertically off
lines between the black plastic barrel floats, a new rotary drum device,
and miscellaneous other equipment. Back to the very large farm near
Onward where myriad ropes hung down supporting at 1-2' intervals small
clumps of oysters of various sizes. At Queen Cove, a teacher and an
oyster farmer in a nearby boat told us that before being sent to market
oysters are tumbled in a rotary drum to remove the barnacles and other
growths on their shells to make them more presentable and from the many
barnacles evident through the clear water we could understand why this
was necessary. The oysters looked pretty unappetizing in their present
state. We then paddled to the two float houses, one unoccupied and the
other with a family, including two children, who were swimming off their
“patio.” Both float houses had flower pots, lounge chairs
and other indications of home; they apparently had no connection with
the oyster farms. Another fine evening with gold and pink clouds following
the sunset and a zillion stars once the night was black.
Saturday, August 14 (God’s Pocket to Effingham Bay / Island in
the Broken Group, entrance to Barkley Sound; 5.8 hours, 37.8 miles).
Tom’s birthday opened with clear skies and light winds, a fine
day for traveling. As an August baby his actual birth day was about
the only day his mother was in the vicinity and she swore that after
a summer of sweltering in the last stages of pregnancy she would plan
all future babies for earlier in the year. Tom’s three younger
sibs were born in June and April. Liz’s attention to birthday
festivities during the day helped to make up for this childhood deprivation.
With some trepidation as to the prospects of coastal fog we raised anchor
at 10:18 and headed south to Tofino via Lemmens Inlet and Heynen Channel,
retracing our route between shoals, reefs, rocks, a few navigation marks
and myriad crab pots. The flood current was against us, mercifully slowing
us down and giving us more time to verify our turn points. Praise be,
only a few wisps of fog but no limitations in visibility. Our trip southeast
went well with almost no wind and a quartering but gentle 3-5' swell,
easily handled by the stabilizers. We exited the Tofino area via Van
Nevel and Templar Channels, then southeast several miles out from Long
Beach, past Amphitrite Point lighthouse and finally across Loudoun Channel
to the Broken Group of islands at the mouth of Barkley Sound. Midway
the flood tide turned to ebb and gave us an extra knot of speed. During
our trip we read more of Bishop Spong’s book on the resurrection,
made our way through many sea birds, saw a few offshore fishing boats,
monitored the Vessel Traffic Service on VHF channel 74, and almost ran
over a gray whale. The whale crossed our bow from left to right a short
50' ahead of us. Tom chopped the throttle, put Onward into full reverse,
and we breathed a sigh of relief as the whale slowly swam off to starboard
as if nothing was amiss. As we head south toward Victoria and the Strait
of Juan de Fuca the radio traffic has increased substantially. On the
VTS we heard the controller talking with freighters and trying to identify
fishing vessels that presumably were in traffic lanes. We also monitored
several “Pan Pans,” the code words for significant but not
yet “Mayday” level problems. In both cases we could only
hear the Coast Guard side of the communication since the distressed
boats were >40 miles SE of us. We could visualize the CG filling
out their forms and going down their checklists – what is your
location, the nature of problem, is there any immediate danger, how
many persons are on board, have you put on your life jackets, is your
anchor holding, we are sending a boat out now, etc. It is good to have
them available in time of need! We entered the Broken Group of islands
just ahead of the fog, past 70' Sail Rock, a curious, pyramidal beige
colored rock without any vegetation whatsoever on it and graced with
a regal-looking eagle on the top. Shortly thereafter a tour boat, the
Long Beach Princess, was chided for going too close to the sea lion
rookery on Wouwer Island. It pulled away from the rookery, poured on
the coal, passed us, did several circles a tenth of a mile ahead of
us for unknown reasons, and headed off into the sunset. Curious behavior.
Into Effingham Bay, past the anchored Coast Guard cutter, Atlin Post,
a wave to our two Gulf 32' boats anchored in an adjacent cove, and then
into the innermost cove next to a trailhead that leads to a native midden.
Liz cooked a special birthday meal for Tom and as an extraordinary treat,
baked an Angel Food cake topped with raspberries for dessert. The cake
came out surprisingly well despite the lack of a proper tin, poor oven
heat control, and Liz’s first try. Twas a fine birthday cruise,
dinner and day, capped by a multi-layered fog bank to the west that
resulted in golden clouds and a partially obscured sun. Just before
complete dark a small sport fishing boat entered our cove and anchored
between us and the bitter end; a tight squeeze but he made it. When
we did our midnight look-around we could see the boat’s anchor
light but nothing more, black as pitch.
Sunday, August 15 (Effingham Bay, at anchor). Fog in the morning,
gradually rising to low clouds and haze. The small fishing boat left
before we awoke. In the morning we kayaked over to Gilbert Island, landed
at the campsite, walked across a narrow neck of the island, and marveled
at the extraordinary old growth trees. Huge bends and hollows in some
of the trees, relatively clear forest floor, impressive rock formations,
sandy beach, and a sign telling us what to do if we came upon wolves.
We then kayaked around the island and back to Onward for lunch. In mid-afternoon
we kayaked ashore shortly after the couple on the sloop Rambunctious
did the same, and then hiked 15 minutes via a very rough and uncertain
trail through old growth forest to the eastern shore. Quite a scene!
Some sand beach bordering a large midden from pre-historic native populations
leading to stretch of shore filled with sharp rocks followed by another
stretch with large round, smooth rocks which made it easy to jump from
one to the next. The entire shore was festooned with drift wood, huge
trees, big trees, small trees and stumps. The 0.2-mile trip along the
shore led to several deep caves that can be explored at low water. Liz
entered one to a depth of almost 50 yards while Tom stayed outside so
that he could let the world know Liz’s fate should the cave choose
that time to collapse. Back through the forest to our kayaks and Onward.
Liz worked a while from her kayak trying to free our starboard stabilizer
from another length of bull kelp but had only partial luck so another
try in the morning. After supper a small recreational fishing boat anchored
just to the west of us and as the sun set, the views of the boat with
its lateral poles out at 45 degrees in line with the golden sun made
for some beautiful pictures. Another quiet night with the heavens full
of stars.
Monday, August 16 (Effingham Bay to Nettle Island; 1.0 hours, 6.1 miles).
A thin layer of clouds burned off later in the morning to provide
us with another fine day. After breakfast Liz put on her bathing suit,
snorkel and mask, took to the water and successfully extracted the kelp.
At one point she passed Tom (standing outside the pilothouse) the kelp’s
“stipe,” the long, thin brown stalk that connects the “hold
fast” (that attaches the kelp to the bottom) and the floating
bulb that stays on the surface. He pulled up as hard as he could, at
least 50# worth. Though the stipe was less than one cm wide he could
neither pull it loose from the stabilizer or break it. Tough material!
We may have lost the kelp cutter and will now have to be more careful
to avoid the floating kelp bulbs. Finally, a fish knife did the job
of cutting it loose. We raised anchor at 10:52 for the one hour trip
through the Broken Group of islands to a cove on the SW side of Nettle
Island. After lunch we set out in the kayaks to explore the many islets
at the SE end, heading downwind in a by now 5-10 knot breeze. Our first
stop was at the park ranger’s float house where we chatted with
the ranger, recently returned from a morning tour of his domain. In
response to Tom’s questions about the wolf advisory on Gilbert
Island he indicated that there were maybe 12 wolves on the islands,
that they swam there from the mainland (quite a distance), that there
are no deer, and with a twinkle in his eye, he said their main food
is dogs, ie, the dogs of boaters foolish enough to bring them ashore.
When asked whether the BC government was making any effort to reduce
logging his laconic reply was, “Well, when the trees are all gone
they’ll think of something else.” We mentioned the huge
US market for wood products and he smiled and said he didn’t want
to mention that. This was his fourth year spending the summer at the
float house and protecting the islands, a choice job. After our chat
we then set off on our tour, heading into the by now brisk breeze. At
the NE corner of Nettle Tom suggested heading on around the island,
with the advantage of being in the lee of the wind. Alas, he didn’t
remember Nettle Island’s size. We kept the island on our left
and more than two hours and four miles later we finally had Onward again
in sight. Though quite a bit more paddling than usual it was a fine
trip. We could appreciate, however, how easy it would be in a kayak
to get lost (if without a chart, as was our case), or worn out, or done
in by a sudden storm. On board at 5 PM the sun was clearly over, or
better said, under the yard arm, and time for libations, nuts and popcorn.
Tom managed to finish his Tom Clancy novel (he doesn’t “do”
novels, except rarely and on holiday), and is now liberated to pursue
more substantive readings, such as The Second Coming of Steve Jobs.
What a complex character!
Tuesday, August 17 (Nettle Island to Julia Passage between Vancouver
I. and the Alma Russell Islands; 0.9 hours, 4.8 miles). A quiet
night, gorgeous stars, and a cloudy morning until the sun broke through
about 9:45. After breakfast we paddled a mile at low tide to the entrance
to the lagoon between Jacques and Jarvis islands. The entrance is tricky
and the Douglass book recommends checking it out first by dinghy. The
several adjacent lagoons provide a totally “bombproof” anchorage,
with protection from all sides. We were enchanted! Lots of rocks, rough,
short beaches now fully exposed, one entrance impassable when we arrived
and easily passable by kayak when we left, and loads of marine life,
especially starfish – bat stars, morning sun stars, purple stars,
sunflower stars, California sea cucumbers, crabs large and small, Lewis’s
moonsnail, many oysters and, as always, a wonderful forest crowding
and extending out over the shoreline. The moonsnail was especially interesting.
It is fairly large with an elaborate shell 3-4" wide and a pink
body that comes out of the shell to make a diameter of 6" or more.
It creates an egg case or ‘sand collar’, that provides a
nice cafeteria offering for starfish, as we could see through the shallow
water. The oysters were extraordinarily numerous in some locations and
absent in others, most appeared to be dead and empty shells, fixed firmly
to the lagoon bottom and oriented in vertically. Presumably the live
ones were beneath the dead layers. As usual lots of kingfishers with
their very distinctive cry, coloration and pattern of swooping flight,
down from a branch to near the water and then up to another branch,
100 yards away. We met three kayakers who were camped on a nearby island.
A young girl had a sea cucumber in her “apron’, deep burgundy
color, 2" in diameter and almost a foot long, with large reddish
spines sticking out all over. She offered us a chance to feel it, which
we declined. Apparently the spines are quite flexible and not harmful.
It was a wonderful paddle. — At 1:24 PM, timed to benefit from
the high tide, we cruised to Julia Passage, a narrow two-mile waterway
between Vancouver and the Alma Russell Islands. Both ends are festooned
with rocks but the south end is easier and closer so in we went, Liz
on the bow, Onward at dead slow, and Tom hand steering. We anchored
a mile in with float houses on both sides. A short time later we were
visited by Page and Rick Zelam in their dinghy en route to some fishing.
They were moored around the next bend on their 48' Ocean Alexander Rapid
Transit. They have spent nine summers in Barkley Sound and we benefitted
from their local knowledge and experience. Later we launched the kayaks,
Liz chatted with four men cleaning fish at one of the float houses,
and then joined Tom talking with Page and Rick, who were moored to the
float house dock of their friends, Sandy and Charlie. The latter two
live year round in their house, which was very substantial and with
several large sheds for their boats and other equipment. During the
winter months everyone else leaves and they have the two-mile passage
to themselves. The amount of wood they had already accumulated to keep
their stove going 24/7 all year long was impressive! The passage has
28 float houses, quite a few with choice locations in small coves. Most
appeared unoccupied though their generally good condition suggested
regular usage. Officially the residents are squatters without legal
permission to moor their float houses to the land but except for occasional
visits by the authorities to levy taxes. For those who love living cheaply,
and in the wild, the many coves in BC are a wonderful option.
Wednesday, August 18 (Julia Passage to Pinkerton Islands; 0.9 hours,
5.3 miles). Up after 8, low clouds and hints of fog, dead calm.
After breakfast we kayaked 1.3 miles to the northern entrance to the
passage, seeing a young 1-2 y.o. bear at close hand on the way up. On
our return we stopped to visit with Rick, Page and Sandy, had a tour
of the float house (all the conveniences of home and still expanding)
and of Rapid Transit, along with a nice chat with the Zelams. We returned
to Onward, the Zelams went on to the Pinkerton Islands, and at 2 PM
we raised anchor and proceeded cautiously out the south entrance for
the short trip to the same location. Once anchored we launched the kayaks
again and spent over an hour exploring the northern portion of the Pinkertons,
a large number of small islands separated by very narrow passages from
Vancouver Island. We explored a small meandering stream in a meadow,
visited with Jan Addison who lives on an especially lovely float house
and marveled at her fine color pictures a bear and wolf standing side
by side on a nearby shoreline meadow. Back on the boat for a spaghetti
dinner, 1.5 hours of genset to restore our batteries due to the short
amount of time cruising, and a quiet night under the stars.
Thursday, August 19 (Pinkerton Islands to Turret Island; 1.3 hours,
8.0 miles). Up at 8 and in the kayaks before 10 for 2.5 hours
of travel, first around the islands to the north and then the islands
to the south. A great cruise on a low tide and with light fog! Lots
of marine life visible in the shallows, huge numbers of oysters, silvered
snags poking through the surrounding living trees, many overhangs projecting
out from the shores, kingfishers squawking noisily as we passed, great
blue herons wading in the now uncovered eel grass, eagles, crows and
ravens crossing over the inlets, large rocks now revealed when at high
tide they are concealed and ready to ground boats, all the wonders we
treasure so much in these waters. Tucked into a cove among the southern
islands was an empty float home, now in some disrepair but with many
oyster flats stacked behind the house. A short distance away was an
apparently abandoned oyster farm float with nearby yellow signs warning
that this was a licensed farming location with “tenure,”
and that the taking of shellfish was prohibited. By 11 the fog was lifting
and before noon we had some intermittent sun. We had lunch, loaded the
kayaks in the space just behind the main cabin – a way of shortening
the loading when the distance to the next location is short –
and then at 2 PM proceeded south via an intricate route to avoid the
many rocks. Just outside of our anchorage we entered the fog and there
we remained until reaching Turret Island, sometimes with 50 yards of
visibility, sometimes with up to 300 yards. We entered the harbor cautiously
and anchored near to NothingMore, a beautiful 60-foot, 30-year old wood
boat propelled, at high speed, by two turbines. The balance of the afternoon
was spent reading and working on our laptops, leaving our kayak sortie
for low tide in the morning.
Friday, August 20 (Turret Island to Bamfield; 1.8 hours, 10.9 miles).
After breakfast we took to the kayaks for a 2.5-hour grand tour of Turret
Island and environs. A never-ending delight, cruising close to the shore
at low tide, checking out the similar yet different locales. We ranged
from protected sandy beaches with shells, eel grass and algae in the
shallows and few or no logs at the shoreline, evidence of protection
from storms, to rocky, bold shores covered in huge logs and stumps.
We paddled beneath 20- to 30-foot overhangs of trees that were unable
to find enough room to grow straight up from their trunk. We went from
islet to islet, passing over deep water exposed to wind and swells and
around several headlands. The contrast between protected shores where
the tree branches came down to high tide level with headlands is striking.
In the latter case the lower rocks are covered with seaweed and often
huge colonies of large black mussels, topped by bare rock for another
10-20 feet where the storm waves prevent any vegetation. When the trees
finally get a hold they are tapered, starting small and gradually getting
taller but all leaning back from the constant winds. During our tour
we visited with the couple on NothingMore, the jet-propelled yacht anchored
in the same lagoon. With two turbines turning at 18,000 RPM, three gear
boxes to reduce propeller shaft speed down to 1000 RPM and no “neutral”
or “reverse” since propulsion direction is determined by
the controllable pitch prop they had quite a boat. Cruising speed was
almost 40 knots. They would pass us at a walk (with the propeller in
flat pitch the boat will go 2 knots just from the exhaust thrust of
the turbines) though we would certainly pass them on a trip to Hawaii;
their fuel consumption is enormous! Just after lunchtime a small runabout
boat with four sea kayaks on the pilothouse roof came into the lagoon.
Soon the kayaks were launched, four paddlers were underway for their
explorations and camping, and the small boat returned to Bamfield. At
1:50 we raised anchor and at the suggestion of our friend on NothingMore
we headed two miles south to see the huge sea lion colony but on finding
ourselves in thick fog we decided to forgo the side trip and head directly
for Bamfield, a long narrow inlet at the SE end of Barkley Sound. The
community lines both sides of the inlet, the west side homes and facilities
linked by a long and well-built boardwalk and the east side by a shore
road and a dirt road to Port Alberni and then to the rest of Vancouver
Island. Our first attempt at anchoring in the soft mud was unsuccessful
– we dragged with ease – so we raised the anchor and had
more success in another location. What a busy harbor; boats of all sorts,
especially small sportfishing boats, and a cross-inlet yellow taxi boat
to connect the two shores. We lowered our dinghy, went to the west side
and walked the length of the boardwalk up to the Coast Guard station.
Back to Onward for supper, dinghy up ready for an early departure, a
check of the radio for tomorrow’s weather, anchor light on to
keep the night boat traffic from hitting us (we were once again in the
fog), and into the sack.
Saturday, August 21 (Bamfield to Sooke; 10.2 hours, 74.7 miles).
A restless night for Tom, as is usual just before a long trip out in
the Pacific. Up at 5:30, up anchor at 5:55, half an hour before sunrise,
and out of Bamfield Inlet along with many fast sportfisher boats. They
passed us to right and left; lots of men going after fish. We were expecting
moderate to strong southwesterlies and 3-5' swells from the northwest
for our trip to the southeast. The barometer had dropped from 1017 mb
last night to 1015 mb in the morning and 1007 mb by nightfall. As it
happened the swells were less, the wind was a light 5-10 knots from
the SE with no whitecaps, and we had fog and rain most of the day. In
our almost 11-hour trip fog, at times dense, was with us for at least
8 hours. Radar, GPS and an autopilot make all the difference in the
world; what could have been an extremely tiring and harrowing trip using
dead reckoning (factoring in changing currents and wind speeds), close-in
cruising within sight of the coast and eyes peeled for other boats,
just ended up being a long day reading to each other and listening to
books on our recorders. We monitored first the Tofino and then the Seattle
traffic channels as the controllers communicated with the cargo and
cruise ships transiting the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Since we were well
out of the established traffic lanes we were not required to be in communication.
We heard “Pan Pan” communications concerning a 19' Bayliner
that had lost is motor near Tatoosh Island at the SW entrance to the
Strait and then another boat with three small children aboard along
with an adult that was lost in the fog; the Coast Guard services are
busy in this region! Several miles short of our destination, Sooke,
a radar target was on a collision course with us. We turned 10 degrees
to starboard and out of the mists came another 40' Nordhavn, Hale Kai
(hull #35, one year younger than our hull #25). We chatted briefly by
radio with the other N40 and learned that the owner had received a boat
tour from us at Lopez Island in 2001 around the time he placed an order
for his boat. We soon emerged from the dense fog in time to see the
range markers for the winding and narrow entrance to Sooke, tucked in
behind a long spit. We anchored, glad to have had an uneventful day
transiting what has come to be known as the “Graveyard of the
Pacific,” with many 100s of ships having met their end in the
vicinity of the Strait of Juan de Fuca.
Sunday, August 22 (Sooke to Victoria; 3.3 hours, 21.6 miles).
A gray day and low and still falling barometer (1005 mb) but no rain,
no fog and moderate winds. After a breakfast of raisin and banana pancakes,
we hauled anchor at 9:42, cautiously out on an ebb tide via a narrow
channel marked with two sets of range markers, we left Sooke for Victoria.
During the first several miles we rounded a point and wove our way through
an obstacle course of well over 40 sportfishing boats hard at work,
trying to catch the elusive fish. We took the long and “chicken”
route around Race Rocks rather than go through Race Passage, which added
several miles to our trip. By latter morning the wind had risen to 20
knots from the west, giving us a largely downwind, down wave run but
presenting a challenge for the autopilot. As we drew near to Victoria
and all the consequent boat traffic Tom became concerned about our yawing
from side to side so he put the helm on “manual” and gave
it a try; he found that it was hard to improve on the autopilot. Entering
Victoria Harbour is quite an experience! Boats of all sizes and types
coming and going, small double-ended water taxis scurrying around in
all directions, float planes landing and taking off in their buoyed
special landing lane, and upwards of ten different docking areas to
sort out. We managed to find a choice slot at the Wharf St. public dock,
helped into the slip by two very busy women dock attendants who managed
to dock us and another boat at the same time. Engine off, shore power
on, five docking lines attached, and now ready to take on the city.
With our location next to the seaplane dock Tom is almost in 7th Heaven,
what with the nearby rumble of the 450 hp radial engine Beavers and
the whine of the 600 hp Pratt and Whitney turboprop Otters, cycling
their props from tractor to pusher mode. High powered whale watcher
speed boats are much in evidence with their rows of tourists all decked
out in bright red or yellow survival suits, depending on the charter
company. One such boat, with a cigarette type bow, has three 225 horsepower
outboards (675 hp in all) and goes over 50 knots, presumably enough
to catch up to, and even pass, the fastest of whales. Once ashore we
became part of the human zoo for the rest of the day, enjoying the myriad
waterfront scenes, checking out the 100+ foot yachts with no tax Caribbean
registry, and taking in two IMAX films on the Mysteries of Egypt and
on Whales at the Royal BC Museum. A great, and cognitive dissonance
way to end this last leg of our wilder coast cruise.
Monday, August 23 (Victoria, at the dock). No need to get up
early and no worry about anchor dragging (though this has very rarely
been of concern). We awoke to the raucous calls of townie seagulls and
the idling motors of the seaplanes, ready for a day of sightseeing and
getting Onward ready for its final cruise leg. We returned to the Royal
BC Museum for two hours of viewing the traveling exhibit of ancient
Egyptian art from the British Museum. Nineteen dynasties and 3000 years
of a rich cultural, economic, social history marked by relatively long
periods of stability interspersed with periods of turmoil, division
and ultimately, foreign-born rulers and then foreign domination. It
is sobering to realize how advanced Egyptian, Greek and Roman societies
became and how long they lasted, only to fall subsequently into long
periods of decline. What will be the fate of Western societies 1000
years hence? We took a lunch break to let our minds relax a bit from
all these heady impressions, left some money in a book store in return
for yet more pages to read, and then returned for another several hours
of reviewing the excellent museum exhibits on Northwest native societies.
By latter afternoon our dogs were yapping – suffering from “museum
feet” – so back to Onward for a start on our end-of-cruise-leg
chores, the website and boat-related tasks.
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