A brief
introduction to Nap Hosang, Todd Olsen and Phil Rasori. Fourth
season veteran crew members Nap Hosang and Todd Olsen, along with second
year veteran Phil Rasori, joined us for this final recreation leg of Onward.
Nap and Todd both work at Kaiser Permanente, Hayward, Nap as an Ob/Gyn
physician and Todd as a general surgeon. Nap is also a professor at UC
Berkeley School of Public Health where he teaches Maternal and Child Health
and International Health. Phil is a sailor, avid fly fisherman, crabber,
and internist who consults on travel medicine and international health
projects in New Guinea and Kenya.
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Thursday, September 1 (At the dock in Port McNeill).
A day of intermittent rain and low clouds. Tom left with Reg (of Rainbow
Taxi fame) at 7:45 to meet the 8:30 Pacific Coastal flight from Vancouver.
Reg had spent almost 20 years as a logger, much of it operating the huge
A-frame log loader across from the marina. He was filled with local lore
about the area and the development of the Little Nimmo Bay resort that
we had visited. Nap and Todd arrived on schedule and Reg was kind enough
to provide us with a bear sighting on the return trip to Port McNeill.
With their bags on board and Liz’s briefing as to what we already
had available, they spent several hours and lots of dollars provisioning
while Liz and Tom completed boat preparation and posting our www.bikenlfy.org
update. Mid-afternoon Phil arrived and with our crew complete we settled
in preparing Onward for the cruise and getting up-to-date on our respective
activities. We had a nice dinner at Sportsman’s Pub, with a view
of the harbor.
Friday, September 2 (Port McNeill to Port Neville; 6.6 hours, 42.5 miles).
We had a rainy night with low clouds and light fog in the morning. We
left at 9:25 on the flood tide and had its benefit all day along with
a light following wind for our southbound cruise down Johnstone Strait.
What a pleasant surprise! Tom had planned to take a more inside route,
perhaps spending the night at Lagoon Cove, but with good Johnstone Strait
weather, why not make the most of it? As we approached Robson Bight we
were pleased to join three other boats watching seven orcas, including
several males and a juvenile. We watched from a prudent distance for one
half hour. The wardens’ boat hovered nearby to make sure we didn’t
cross the boundary into the Bight which is a haven for whales only. Later
in the day we were slowly passed by the Ocean Explorer, a large vessel
with superstructure that made it look like a promo for MacDonalds. We
gave them a radio call and learned that it was a pollack (or whiting)
fishing boat. It was returning from Alaska after a very good season with
1.2 million pounds caught and sold. It had a boat capacity of 700 thousand
pounds. We anchored at 4 PM well into Port Neville and launched the dinghy
so that we could place the crabpot. Over the course of the day the weather
had improved greatly and we enjoyed a nice sunset.
Saturday, September 3 (Port Neville to Cameleon Harbour, Sonora Island;
5.1 hours, 36.2 miles). A calm morning, good weather but no crabs.
We delayed our departure until 10:30 to benefit by the early flood tide
when we arrived at Race Passage on the south side of Helmcken Island.
The current there approaches five knots and the swirlies are impressive.
The timing went well and at times we had 3-4 knots of boost. The rest
of our trip went well with calm waters and a flood tide and following
breeze hastening us along. A 125' private yacht, Silverado, very slowly
passed us, presumably being “repositioned” by the crew at
the direction of the owners. With the weather and tides so beneficent
we decided to continue our cruise down Johnstone Strait rather than take
the more protected routes offered by either Chancellor Channel or Mayne
Passage. Their disadvantage: the necessity of timing our passage through
the Greene Point and Whirlpool rapids. At Chatham Point, where Johnstone
Strait becomes Discovery Passage leading to Seymour Narrow, we turned
northeast up Nodales Channel for the short trip to Cameleon Harbour via
Young Passage. We anchored at 3:36 and soon Liz and Tom were in the kayaks
and the fishermen trio were off in the dinghy to place the crabpot and
see if they could find a hole in the fish farm covering nets through which
they drop a hook and snag the young salmon jumping inside. Another fine
dinner after making good miles down the Strait.
Sunday, September 4 (Cameleon Harbour to Roscoe Bay; 7.0 hours, 42.6 miles).
We awoke to a 7:00 alarm, set to get us under way in time for slack tide
at infamous Dent and Yuculta Rapids. The skies were cloudy with intermittent
light rain. We raised the armada and then the anchor at 8:50. Exiting
the harbor we made a small side trip to pass slowly by a large fish farm
where several men were dumping in fish food and 6" salmon were jumping
all over the pens. North via Nodales Channel, past 18 small fishing boats,
past Hall Point and another large flotilla of fishermen, east via Cordero
Channel, and then zigzagging at low RPM to delay our arrival at Dent Rapids.
We were one day past the new moon and hence the tidal current was near
its maximum of 11 knots - the prudent mariner transits near slack. We
had lots of swirlies but no holes, overfalls or other problems. We went
through Dent precisely at the turn to flood, then Gillard Passage with
a turn to the south and Yuculta, just before the turn. We marveled at
the huge resort development on Sonora Island at the west shore of Yuculta;
several very large buildings, a tall construction crane, many smaller
ones, and long docks with three sportfisher boats at the dock. Planned
capacity of the resort is 180, perhaps a challenge to fill with high-paying
guests. Once through the rapids it was calm cruising down Calm and Lewis
Channels for the rest of the trip with light winds and a helping flood
tide.
Unscheduled “entertainment” and a “there but for the
grace of God go I experience” was provided on the VHF with a “Mayday”
call from a 30' sailboat that had run aground on Tusko Rock on the “wrong”
side of Surge Narrows, several hours off slack tide. These narrows can
result in 12 knots of tidal current and in this case the rock was on the
upstream side of the narrows. We couldn’t hear the sailboat’s
side of the dialogue with the Coast Guard but the realities were all too
evident; the boat was holed and taking on water. The CG mobilized two
rescue boats, nearby boats were pressed into providing immediate support,
and channel 16 was kept for only Mayday-related use for over an hour.
One can’t be too careful in these rapids and one is reminded of
the old saw: There are only two kinds of skippers, those who have run
aground and those who haven’t run aground yet. We hope the CG was
able to render timely assistance and that boat damage was light.
We passed a stationary tugboat and a huge log boom, rounded the base of
West Redonda Island, and stopped at the entrance of Roscoe Bay. At low
tide the narrows carries only 2' of water and we were only two hours into
the flood, with an estimated 8' of water. Uncertain of the controlling
depth, we launched Phil in the dinghy and with Liz, Todd and Nap watching
the bottom, Phil preceded us, “sounding” with the boat hook.
Tom noted a minimum fathometer depth of 2.9' under the keel so we made
it in without problem. With Onward safely through the shallows, Phil collected
oysters at the bay’s entrance. There were at least 6 other sail
and power boats at anchor but by 3:50 we had a spot of our own with space
to spare. The balance of the afternoon was spent in the dinghy and kayaks
in this lovely location. Phil cooked us up a great dinner of oysters*
and pasta, Nap prepared his baby flounder for Liz and Tom, and Todd concocted
his usual fine salad. Our post-prandial conversation covered the waterfront,
from the sublime to the ridiculous. Liz “folded her tent”
at 10 and the boys continued to 11:15, at which time guilt overcame Tom,
Nap, and Phil for occupying Todd’s bunk (in the main cabin), Todd
by this time nodding off in chair. A nice night under the stars. (*While
kayaking, Tom saw a sign that announced that shellfish harvesting was
prohibited due to paralytic toxins. Phil later talked with some local
campers at the head of the bay who were eating oysters and they said “no
problem, we’re not dead yet.” So, with Tom and Liz serving
as “controls” the others took the “experimental”
role and we gave it a try. All survived!)Monday, September 5 (At anchor
in Roscoe Bay). We awoke to a gorgeous day, started with pancakes, enlivened
with a discussion of religion, values and foreign affairs, interrupted
by another large dogfish that took Nap’s line out for a way, and
then followed with kayaking. Phil went for a long excursion outside the
inlet, and then Nap and Liz took turns. Near noon Todd made us a picnic
lunch and with all our goodies packed, went to the head of the bay. We
carried the kayaks over the 100-yard trail to the outlet of Black Lake.
After lunch Liz and Tom did a 2.5-mile circumnavigation of the beautiful
lake, enhanced by the calls and sight of several loons. The others went
for a hike and then a swim in the tolerably warm water. In due course
roles were reversed, and Liz and (even) Tom took a swim. Back to the bay
and a chance to chat with other yachts, most notably the 43' steel flushdeck
sloop, Fan Tan, owned by Siggi and Marge Jantzen of Vancouver. They had
built it ~25 years ago and were now planning on a larger Power vessel,
also of steel. Todd was especially interested in the construction of a
steel boat and one could see his gears turning, thinking about the day
when he would have lots of extra hours to spend building a boat. The evening
was magical; warm, golden sun, mountains all around, 7-8 other boats peacefully
anchored, and a dinner with chicken & pineapple, pork chops, lamb
chops, potatoes, rice and beans, steamed rice, garlic and onion oysters
á la Phil, Australian wine, conversation until midnight, and a
starry night.
Tuesday, September 6 (Roscoe Bay to Melanie Cove and Prideaux Haven, in
Desolation Sound; 1.2 hours, 4.1 miles). Up at 7:15 and up anchor
at 8:20 to cross the bar near high tide. The morning, and indeed the whole
day, was spectacular! Cloudless skies except for a few scenic layered
clouds in the morning, very light winds and an ideal temperature. We loaded
the kayaks, towed the dinghy at reduced speed, and were the fourth boat
across the bar for the short trip across Homfray Channel to Desolation
Sound Marine Park. Our initial anchorage was Melanie Cove but in the afternoon
Liz and Tom relocated Onward 0.7 mile to Prideaux Haven so that we would
have a view of five mountain peaks rather than just one. The kayaks were
in use most of the day and our three fishermen spent some hours out in
Homfray Channel, resulting in their most successful day to date, three
bright red rockfish. The culinary crew went into high gear, preparing
another gourmet feast of oysters on the half-shell, steamed mussels, Jamaican
jerked rockfish á la Nap, potatoes, salad and French white wine.
Wednesday, September 7 (Prideaux Haven to Tenedos Bay, in Desolation Sound;
1.2 hours, 6.9 miles). Another peaceful night and though the
early morning was cloudy, the clouds soon dissipated and we were blessed
with yet another ideal day. We raised the kayaks but opted to tow the
dinghy for the short trip to Tenedos Bay, arriving at 10:40. Todd and
Phil kayaked around the nearby island, their return somewhat delayed by
the inopportune encounter a sailboat had with a charted (a quite visible)
rock on the far side of the island. Their attention was called to this
encounter by a very distinct and impressive “bump” sound,
and then heightened and more focused activity by the crew to get off the
rock and check for damage. Fortunately the kayakers’ towing services
were not required and in due course they reappeared, coincidentally, in
time for lunch; egg salad sandwiches á la Todd. We then went by
flotilla a short mile to the trailhead to Unwin Lake, a five-minute walk
up an old logging road that paralleled the outlet stream. The lake outlet
was choked with many logs so we took a “rustic” trail around
the lakeshore until we came to a rocky cliff face that had enough foot-
and handholds to let us get down. For the next hour, with much hilarity
and pleasure, we swam (Liz leading the way), joked, mimed and “performed”
in the benign waters and fine views. Another foursome had arrived at our
location a bit after we did. Their dog, a black Lab-like dog named Noche
(he had lived in Mexico) brought his ball down to our lakeside level in
search of playmates. Into the lake, a swim to the ball, a sharp jab to
get the ball in his mouth, a difficult exit from the lake which, despite
his four-foot drive often required Nap’s help, a shake of his watery
fur onto our clothes (by now we were in bathing suits), a drop of the
ball on the rock ledge (which then bounced back into the lake), and then
back to Step #1, and ball retrieval. This could have continued until dusk
but for his owners’ desire to swim where we were. We dressed, climbed
back up the rock face, chatted with our new friends, and prevailed on
them to take our de rigueur group pictures. Back down trail and to Onward
where the balance of the afternoon was spent in fishing from the stern
and dinghy (three more rockfish plus a large dogfish that was almost deposited
in Todd’s lap*), and kayaking our portion of the bay. Todd and Tom
visited the most impressive home-built 40' x 26' trimaran, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi,
new home to Clark and Nina Wagaman. Named for the legendary mongoose in
Rudyard Kipling’s Jungle Book, the boat was the result of 15 years
of backyard construction and is now to be their home afloat. It was truly
a work of art and style, and the painted mongoose on the nose of their
lateral hulls really set the scene. Later we were joined by long-time
Bay Area friends of Todd who have a F-27 trimaran almost identical to
his boat. Suffice to say there is a lot of difference in the interior
room available on a 27' and 40' boat, but since the smaller boat can be
folded and put on a trailer, they can sample waters far and near. Our
galley crew again strutted their stuff and after libations we had a fine
dinner of fresh fish, oysters, potatoes, rice and cookies. As on previous
fish nights we heard a loud sucking sound, not as predicted by Ross Perot
from outside US borders, but instead from Nap, who was sucking every bit
of flavor out of our available stock of fish heads. (*A piece of trivia
that will “make” your reputation at your next dinner party;
since dogfish excrete urine through their skin it is desirable to remove
the skin before serving them to your guests.)
Thursday, September 8 (Tenedos Bay to Grace Harbour, in Desolation Sound;
1.4 hours, 9.7 miles). A quiet night and sunny morning, and indeed
all day, though the barometer fell 7 mb by the afternoon, the NW wind
rose, and the weather prediction was for strong to gale force winds in
the Strait of Georgia. We had a leisurely breakfast of scrambled eggs
and bacon followed by a pre-departure kayak excursion by Phil and Liz
and more fishing for Todd and Nap. Up flotilla and underway at 10:30 to
nearby Grace Harbour. The wind was rising and by the time we were out
into Desolation Sound two sailboats were actually under sail, a rarity
in these waters. We rounded Zephine Head and entered Malaspina Inlet against
the ebb tide. Past a fish farm, oyster farm, a few lovely homes and then
back into Desolation Sound Marine Park and Grace Harbour, a several mile
projection into Gifford Peninsula. We joined five boats and were soon
joined by more, rising up to 13 by suppertime. After lunch, and a few
promising nibbles that took their bait, the three fishermen headed by
dinghy to the big water in Malaspina Inlet. An hour later came a radio
call saying that luck was not yet with them and asking that we remove
the beef from the freezer. Liz and Tom spent the afternoon reading, working
on the website and checking out the ‘hood in the kayaks. The fishermen
returned with a total catch of four small rockfish. Much to their regret,
they had to release a lingcod, which is endangered and thus protected.
Friday, September 9 (Grace Harbour to Campbell River, Discovery Harbour
Marina; 3.8 hours, 24.5 miles). Up early to catch the “turn
to ebb tide” at Discovery Passage, the southern entrance to Campbell
River and more to the north, Seymour Narrows. Though the barometer had
dropped to 1010 mb and predicted rain we had sun all day, but lots of
wind. From a calm departure it quickly rose to 20+ knots from the northwest
as we crossed the top of Strait of Georgia. With the waves off our starboard
bow the trip was bouncy but we made good progress and our timing was good
for rounding Cape Mudge and entering Discovery Passage. On a spring tide
the current can reach 9 knots and on an earlier all day trip up from Nanaimo
we had slowed to two knots over the ground when we encountered the flood
tide flowing south. No response from the Discovery Harbour Marina (we
learned later they had neglected to turn up the volume on their radio;
a nice way to keep the office quiet) but at this time in the season there
was plenty of dock space available. Quite a change, leaving the turbulent
and very windy Discovery Passage for the tranquility behind a large breakwater.
The balance of the day was reasonably peaceful. Liz and Phil went to the
Campbell River museum – a great collection and a fine video of blowing
up Ripple Rock in 1958 – Nap and Todd went shopping, and Tom lay
hors de combat on the boat. Liz, Tom and Phil had picked up an industrial
strength California bug, with Tom the most subdued. Nevertheless, the
afflicted revived enough to join the unafflicted to enjoy a fine dinner
at the Riptide Pub. Over the course of the dinner the wind eased and three
cruise ships, aka floating megahotels, passed by in the passage.
Saturday, September 10 (At the dock in Campbell River). Despite
a 1011 barameter and continued predictions of rain, another fine day.
Nap and Todd, their eagerness to catch a “real” fish that
was unsated despite catching innumerable dogfish, some rockfish, a sand
dab and some minnows, set out at 7 AM with a guide in quest of the elusive
salmon. Their fast sportfisher boat took them to two locations, including
Brown Bay, two miles north of Seymour Narrows. Over the course of four
hours they had a number of strikes (the required barbless hooks make capture
a challenge) and reeled in one fine salmon, which they kindly donated
to the palates of Liz and Tom. Nap prepared one last rockfish for a fast
pre-departure lunch and then with tears in our eyes and virtual (and hence
antiseptic) hugs between the infected and uninfected, we said our goodbyes.
Nap and Todd were headed for the airport and home, while Phil, joined
now by his wife, Rosemary, planned to spend a few days exploring Vancouver
Island before flying back to the Bay Area. For Liz and Tom the change
was dramatic; from five active, loquacious people enjoying recreational
cruising on a small 40' vessel, we were now in “boat delivery”
mode, getting Onward down to Seattle and available for sale. We still
have at least five days of travel ahead of us, but rather than cruising
to discover it is bringing our beloved waterborne home to the yacht broker’s
dock. Yet another of life’s transitions! We went to bed a tad after
9:00, subdued by our bugs and mindful of tomorrow’s pre-dawn departure
for the long trip south.
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