Sundown Sailing Adventures

Where in the world are we? Look here.

With weather still in our favor, we left Shearwater on Sunday, May 28, for “The Outside” (a.k.a. the eastern edge of the north Pacific Ocean). We sailed across Milbanke Sound and up the west side of Price Island (we’re pretty sure it was named for our friends Larissa and Jim). Along the way, we passed McInnes Island, a weather reporting station we hear about on VHF; it’s fun to see the places named on the radio.

Clay expertly guided us through gnarly rocks in the barely chartered Higgins Passage on the northwest end of Price to a quiet little anchorage. Chris was waiting for us; his Catalina 36 moves a little faster than our big-boned Sundown girl. The next morning, Clay and I paddled around the area and found an old ship wreck, a logging quay and lots of garbage, including plastic water bottles, a fishing buoy and a booze bottle from Japan. The lesson here? Live a clean life and recycle; you never know how far your trash will travel.

Trash from near and far.

With only a light breeze flitting around late that morning, we made a last minute decision to put more miles under the keels. Before we could escape the Higgins wilderness, however, a bolt on Chris’ alternator broke. He and Clay fixed it while I kept both vessels, which were tied together, floating around in a deep hole. After about 45 minutes, we were off again.

Farewell, Price Island.

The trip up Laredo Channel was filled with whales and unexpected northerly wind that smacked against the flooding tide, which made the ride a little rough. But once we rounded into Surf Inlet on Princess Royal Island, an inflowing wind was at our back which meant we sailed up to our anchorage—Penn Cove. Little did we know this would be our “home” for a week while a family of low-pressure fronts packing gale-force winds and rain moved through the area. We were there so long, I turned a whole year older!

Hello, Penn Cove.

Happy rain-soaked paddlers.

The dam at the head of Surf Inlet.

Surf Inlet’s abandoned hydropower plant.

A petroglyph in Surf Inlet.

Our high-tech, filtered rain water collection system fills the tanks.

Birthday banana bread.

The weather still doesn’t show signs of easing up much, so we raised our comfort threshold this morning (hoping the forecast southeast 20-30 knot winds would hold off a bit today—they did, but we left Penn Cove at 5am to get ahead of them) and beat a path to Hartley Bay. Along the way, we saw about a dozen whales—humpbacks and orcas. They put on quite a show.

This First Nations Gitga’at village is small and doesn’t offer any frills. No groceries. No café. No beer (it’s totally dry). Just fuel, fresh water, interesting sights, including a salmon hatchery, plus free dock space and cell coverage, so I’m able to get this blog posted and work online a bit. We’re going to hang out here tomorrow, too. There are interesting people to meet and more of the village to check out while walking on the “streets” which are boardwalks. Residents drive ATVs on them there are no cars here. We hope to tour the museum tomorrow (which doubles as the school children’s lunchroom) and learn about this place’s history. Maybe we’ll even make a new friend or two.

Oh, in case you’re wondering, the big waves and swells on the outside didn’t make me feel sick and I didn’t take any preventive measures. I just stayed above deck with my face in the wind and rode them out. I like to imagine I looked like our beloved Seren, who was a blonde English Cream Golden Retriever, who loved going for car rides so he could stick his nose out the window and let the passing air send his ears back in its wake.