Early bird gets the worm, so we’re underway at daybreak. Conditions could not be more perfect for crossing the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Blessed with such ideal conditions, we are back in our slip, in the Elliott Bay Marina, by 1500 hrs, and already planning for next year….God willing and the creek don’t rise.

We’re up at daybreak, again, pulling the anchor.  The lights are still on at the pulp mill.

Today, we’re hoping to make Hunter Bay.  The seas are flat, and we have clear skies… we are definitely on a roll.  We kept thinking our good fortune couldn’t last, but the excellent traveling conditions remained constant all day.

We reached Spencer Spit at low tide.

It was a beautiful sunny day, so this fellow appeared to be out clamming on the spit.

We made great time and were anchored up in Hunter Bay by early afternoon.

I always dread crossing Georgia Strait, but this morning the seas are flat and, miracle of miracles, there isn’t any fog.  The sun was just rising when we pulled the anchor, headed for Nanaimo.

The seas were flat, and the Whiskey Golf torpedo test range wasn’t active, so we were able to head straight for Nanaimo.  The anchorage was full of boats, but we managed to find a spot to anchor right in front of the Dinghy Pub.  Seems strange to be back in civilization, with all the attendant noise.  

We had planned on staying in Squirrel one more day, but the weather was just too good not to be taking advantage of the calm seas.  So, at 1100 hrs, we pull the anchor and head south.  We never dreamed the light wind would hold all the way to Smuggler Cove, but it did.  By the time we got there, the sun was getting ready to set.  The cove was packed with boats, so many that they were all bow-anchored and stern-tied.  Luckily, we were able to find a spot in the middle where we had enough room to swing on our anchor.  

We’re up at daybreak, again, hoping for better weather today.  The fog was gone, and the wind was blowing about 3 knots.  Nice.  We fired up the engines and headed for Johnstone Strait, hoping it looked better than yesterday.  To our relief, the wind was only blowing about 5 knots in Johnstone.  Now, all we had to do was make slack tide at Whirlpool Rapids, Green Point Rapids, Dent Rapids, Gillard Rapids, and Yuculta Rapids.  

Of course, there is a spring tide running, so we can’t fudge much.  We were able to get through Whirlpool with 5 knots of current against us, which wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  Green Point was running about 2 knots against us, which was a little rougher.  Dent and Gillard were 3.9 knots against us, but Al didn’t have too much problem controlling the boat.  Then, we got to Yuculta.  At the entrance to Yuculta we had 13 knots of current going with us, and huge whirlpools and upwellings were like I’d never seen before.  Al steered us through like a champ, while doing 13 knots…. Mr. Toad’s wild….woohoo!  Once through Yuculta, we had smooth sailing all the way to Squirrel Cove.  

Squirrel Cove was a zoo.  We usually arrive here about 6 weeks later.   There must have been 50 boats in the anchorage, where there are usually just a handful when we come through in the spring.  I never saw one bird.  Sad.

We spent the next day recovering.

It’s foggy again this morning, but I decide that if I follow the shoreline, I shouldn’t get lost. We’ll see.

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Out of the fog emerged this pair of red-throated loons.

This red-necked grebe stood out against the fog.

And, this kingfisher was nice enough to land in a nearby tree.

This marbled murrelet was startled when he surfaced right next to me.  

Apparently one look was enough.

This was a spring low tide, so there were lots of sea stars exposed.  For some reason, the sea stars here are very pale.  

I spotted something odd on one of the tiny islets and decided to investigate. 

I discovered what looked like a big steel gear.  What on earth would they use something like this for on this tiny islet?

And, nearby were several large steel discs.  Such a mystery.

On another little islet I found a great clam bed, with lots of “squirters”.  

On the way back to the boat, I spotted some more red-necked grebes.

I got back to the boat around 1030 hrs.  After listening to the weather report, we decided we’d better take advantage of the light winds and try to get to Forward Harbour today.  So, we pulled the anchor and headed out.  

As we neared Chatham Channel, the wind picked up to 20-25 knots.  We’d have to go to Plan “B”.  With the wind blowing 25 knots, there was no way we could make Forward Harbour today. But, we should be able to tough it out as far as Port Neville. 

When we entered Johnstone Strait from Havannah Channel, the seas were downright ugly, so we were really happy to have Port Neville to duck into.  The wind blew like stink all night.  

The only thing we need to get in Port McNeill is fuel, but the fog is so thick, we can’t see the fuel dock until about 1100 hrs.  The sun has come out, slowly burning the fog away, so as soon as our fuel tanks are filled, we set out across Queen Charlotte Strait, heading for Ernie’s Cove, in Fife Sound.  We’ve found that going this roundabout way up Fife Sound, then working our way to Knight Inlet,  to Chatham Channel, and down Havanah Channel, where we re-enter Johnstone Strait, we’re able to eliminate most of the ugliness that can occur in Johnstone Strait.  This way, the only time we’ll be in Johnstone Strait is the stretch of Johnstone between Havannah Channel to Sunderland Channel.  

Visibility isn’t bad, until we get off Sointula, where the fog is thick on the surface of the water.  If we were in an airplane, we’d have great visibility.  But, we’re not in an airplane, so it’s radar time.  On the radar, we see a big target to port, not very far off our bow, doing 22 knots!  On the radio, a sailboat is calling us to give us a heads up on their position in relation to us, mentioning that they are directly on the stern of a Princess Line cruise ship.  Then, I looked up in the sky and got a close look at just the upper decks of the cruise ship!  Spooky.

We’re underway at daybreak, headed for Blunden Harbour.  Today turned out to be one of those rare days when conditions are perfect for rounding Cape Caution:  No wind, no fog, swell height at West Sea Otter is .5 meters, and the tide is flooding at Slingsby.  Yay! 

The sea at Cape Caution is so flat it looks like a millpond.  Since conditions are so perfect, we quickly alter course for Port McNeill.  It takes us just 6 hours from Jones Cove to Port McNeill.  This just might be our best rounding of Cape Caution, ever.

This is the height of the boating season for this area, so North Island Marina, where we usually tie up, and where I usually upload my blog, had no vacancies.  So, we had to tie up in the public marina, where there is no internet access.  Oh, well.  

The fog rolled in this evening.  We’ll stay here another day, waiting for clear weather.

We are hoping to take advantage of a weather window for rounding Cape Caution.  In order to do that, we leave at dawn, headed south, hoping to get at least as far as Fury Cove.  As we head down Fisher Channel, the seas are flat, and there’s no fog.  Perfect.  

In Fitz Hugh Sound, we spot several whales.  

This whale popped up right next to the boat! Nearly gave me a heart attack.

With the perfect sea conditions, we were making great time, such great time that we decided to shoot for Jones Cove, on the south side of Smith  Inlet, which would put us in the best position for rounding Cape Caution in the morning.  We’ve always wanted to check out Jones Cove.  This was the perfect opportunity.  

In Ripple Passage we spotted a pod of orcas.

Jones Cove is an extremely small cove, with a very narrow entrance.  The cove is so small that you have to anchor right in the center, or you stand a good chance of going aground when the boat swings.  We had to anchor twice before Al felt certain that we wouldn’t hit any rocks when the tide changed.

Looking out across Smith Sound, the view was lovely.  

I’m up with the sun this morning, hoping to find those mergansers.  As I’m brushing my teeth, I looked out the window and there they were, on the beach, not 200 feet from the boat.  Unfortuantely, by the time I got suited up and on the water, they were almost out of sight.  Oh, well.

In my search for the mergansers, I spotted this eagle eating something way up in a tree.  

It looked like he’d caught himself a gigantic king salmon.  

But, it looked awfully stringy.

When I zoomed in a little closer, I discovered it wasn’t a salmon at all he was eating.  This hungry eagle was eating the tree!  Boy, you know salmon are scarce, when eagles resort to eating trees. Or, maybe he was just constipated and needed some fiber.

On a little islet near the boat, I spotted what I thought were berries.  On closer inspection, I discovered the berries were actually rosehips.

I love how old dead trees become decorative planters for ferns, lichen and grasses.

I paddled clear out to the entrance to Kakushdish, hoping to find those mergansers.  On the way, I came upon this pair of sandhill cranes feeding in the tall grass.  

At the creek, near the entrance, I spotted some honkers.

And, right next to the honkers, was the flock of mergansers I’ve been hunting! I couldn’t believe my good fortune.

At the mouth of the creek, at the head of Kakushdish, I discovered that the First Nations people are building a couple of cabins, right in front of the old cabin.

This eagle was perched in a nearby tree, supervising construction.

He seemed to have some suggestions about what they could do with their cabins.