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Chapter 4—Past Stewart Island to Alert Bay
Lone bald eagle perched above his nest. Hesler Point, Stewart Island. [80-200mm, Unknown Exposure, Kodak RG 100] I get up at 5:00AM the next day, make coffee and vacate our slip at Big Bay Marina by 5:30. Amy is still asleep in the v-berth. Today is going to be a big day for us—we plan to cover over 75 nautical miles. It is an absolutely beautiful morning. It is obviously going to be another hot day, but it is cool now. Basically clear skies with a few puffy “fog-like” clouds. It is so beautiful I engage in a photo frenzy and shoot off 20+ exposures. I am starting to get desperate for a good picture of a bald eagle. I don’t really get any decent eagle shots, but get some nice landscape shots.
I have been so concentrated on “capturing the moment” on film, it takes me quite a while to notice I have made a grievous navigational error. Instead of looking at the charts to plan today’s route, I have chosen to work from memory. I made the huge mistake of thinking that Gillard Passage was actually Dent Rapids. Having plowed through Gillard Passage against about a knot or two of current I incorrectly think I am done with rapids. To my horror, I realize my mistake. I still have to go through Dent Rapids—about one nautical mile ahead. Departing Stewart Island via Gillard Passage. The biggest of the Gillard Islands to Port.[80-200mm, Unknown Exposure, Kodak RG 100]
“Shit.” I both think and say out loud to no one in particular.
I rapidly start reading Don Douglas’ book to find the scoop on Dent Rapids. The one thing I know is that I will not be going through at slack (I left Stewart Island at slack). Between the verbiage in Don Douglas’ book and the somewhat wicked feeling westerly that is blowing, I am getting nervous. My blood is pumping, afraid we are not going to make it. I imagine Amy waking up and me telling her we have to hang out in “limbo” between Dent Rapids and Gillard Passage for 6 hours while we pay penance for my lazyness.
I get Patience up to about 2800 RPMs (we normally cruise at 1900 RPMs). We charge through Dent Rapids and Devil’s Hole. There is quite a good rip tide coming against us, but fortunately no overfalls or whirlpools. I claw by the beacon on the northwest end of Little Dent Island and my heart stops racing as we clear the last of the rips. Whoooh! What a relief. Patience is tossed around a bit, but Amy sleeps through the whole episode. Thank God the Mercedes continues to kick ass. The Yacultas would not be a good place for an engine failure.
Much relieved, I slow our trusty Mercedes back down to cruising RPM’s and pour myself another much needed mug of coffee. To cap off what has already been a bizarre morning, at about 7:20AM I hear what sounds like a cannon shot coming from the mountain to my starboard. Jittery from too much coffee and running the rapids, I am half expecting inbound shells from some mystery destroyer. Sheez.
For a change in scenery from our 1995 trip I had planned to stay close to the mainland as long as possible. Unfortunately this requires transiting Green Point Rapids. I have never gone through Green Point Rapids, and decide to look it up in Don Douglas’, Exploring the South Coast of British Columbia. Don mentions a 60 – 75 foot (18 – 23M) whirlpool with a 3 foot (0.9M) drop. Hmmm. I think we will pass on that route since the rapids are currently flooding at 2.7 knots. Sunrise over Frederick Arm. Mount Gardiner (6,300ft) in background. Image is actually 4 individual 35mm exposures stiched together in Photoshop.[Unknown Lens, Unknown Exposure, Kodak RG 100]
Instead we go up Blind Channel as we did in 1995. As we make the “left-turn” towards Blind Channel, I see Green Point Rapids on the starboard bow. Jose and I took the Mobile One to Green Point Rapids in 1995 and went fishing. We didn’t catch anything, but lost some buzz bombs. The chart notes there might be some “Overfalls, Tide Rips or Races” near Shell Point (about one mile away). I am not too worried, it doesn’t sound like Blind Channel should pose too much of a problem. If it does, we can always turn around and wait for slack (~10.30AM). I am excited to pass Blind Channel to see if any of it looks familiar. This morning really reminds of 1995 when we left Blind Channel bound for Johnstone Strait. It is odd how foreboding these channels can seem early in the morning. Blind Channel [80-200mm, F5.6, 1/200sec, Kodak RG 100].
The leg past Blind Channel proves to be slow going. We average about 4.5 knots over the bottom as we buck the flood. Everything looks vaguely familiar. The wind seems to be out of the SE, although it is hard to tell in these channels, as it is almost always on your nose regardless. I am wondering what kind of weather Johnstone Strait will bring. A southeasterly would make for a really nice sail, but I just don’t think it will happen. We pass a sailboat anchored in the north end of Charles Bay. Charles Bay looks like a decent anchorage if Blind Channel was full and you really needed somewhere to stay. It appears relatively protected and out of the currents.
As we get out into Johnstone Strait, we end up bucking straight into a westerly. The noise of the wind and waves wake Aim up and she cooks the first full breakfast of the trip— Eggs, hashbrowns (from potatoes we baked in the BBQ last night), bacon and coffee. I am feeling pretty spoiled. As we head up Johnstone Strait, I stay west of Helmcken Island and go through Race Passage. In '95 we went east of Helmcken Island and went through Current Passage. Someone later tells me that there is a very nice anchorage on Helmcken Island. I look on the chart after our trip and sure enough, it looks like there is a decent anchorage or two on Helmcken Island. Billygoat Bay looks like it would be a relatively secure unless the wind blew up from the north. There are not many sheltered stops while transiting Johnstone Strait. Somehow, anchoring right in the midst of Race and Current Passages seems like fun. The view (looking west) from Race Passage, Johnstone Strait [80-200mm, F5.6, 1/200sec, Kodak RG 100].
The wind has been gusting up to 20 knots from the west at times, but has recently eased. The barometer is steady, and has even climbed a hair. The tide is just now starting to turn in our favor. There is not much of a sea despite opposing current and wind. I am afraid this will probably change for the worse, however, we are not making bad time at present.
I start spouting off to Amy that, similar to our 1995 trip, conditions in Johnstone Strait are once again not living up to their ugly reputation. Pretty much as soon as I get those words out of my mouth, conditions rapidly deteriorate. Within fifteen minutes, the wind picks up and is steady at 15 knots, gusting to 20 – 22 knots. The ebb against the wind is kicking up a very nice steep chop with plenty of whitecaps. By 1:30PM, we have a steady 25 knots of wind, with gusts over 30. The waves actually seem to be getting better as they seem to be getting flattened by the gusts. We are under power and are occasionally getting sheets of spray all the way back in the cockpit. Even with the wind, we are still making decent headway due to the 1.5 – 2.0 knot current in our favor.
Despite the brutal wind, it is a beautiful day. There is not a cloud in the sky. This has to be classic Johnstone Straits conditions when the Pacific High is established. The wind reaches a real crescendo at Hickey Point. I think this phenomenon was mentioned in a couple of our cruising guides.
We see another sailboat come southbound down the Strait. At first he has both the main and a headsail up and is roaring along. I am jealous. After a few minutes we see him get a little out of control and then he spends a few minutes and reefs the main and takes down the headsail. Amy is consumed reading Cat & Mouse until the spray from a particularly nasty wave manages to find its way past the dodger and get her and the book wet. Northern end of Johnston Strait. Ship carrying logs in background. [35-70mm, unknown exposure, Kodak RG 100].
By the time we get to descriptively named Windy Point, conditions have eased and the wind is back down in the low '20s. For those that have never been, the trip up Johnstone Strait is absolutely beautiful. On the Vancouver Island side there are a number of 4,000 – 6,000 foot (1,219 – 1,829M) mountains that peak 2 – 6 nautical miles from the Strait. This kind of scenery continues for miles on end. We kind of feel like the cockpit of the boat is our movie theatre and we are watching a movie with wonderful landscape scenes roll by.
Unfortunately, around 4:00PM, our “movie” starts coming to a grinding halt. For lack of any better terminology, I tell Amy, “I think there is some marine air coming in”. I later try to look up the clouds that are forming in my weather books. I am not much of a weather expert, but am trying to learn. While my research is inconclusive, I decide that I think the clouds they are stratus clouds – a possible indication of an inbound warm front and rain. Yuck. The wind and the waves have really eased and the current is just about to turn against us. We still haven’t determined where we are going to moor tonight.
As we head north, the weather continues to deteriorate. By 8:00PM it is almost completely overcast. Amy is below cooking dinner while I am on watch. I am reading Don Douglas’ guide on the area and I note that he says Robson Bight is common place to see killer whales. I think to myself, “now wouldn’t that be nice to see a few whales – we haven’t seen any yet on the trip”. I head to the chart table to find out exactly where Robson Bight is. Sure enough, we are right in front of the Bight. I head topsides and to my surprise, the first thing I see is the fin of a killer whale! I yell for Amy to come up and we follow the whales for a while and engage in a photo shoot. Amy is enthralled. The pod has about eight whales and is headed southbound. As normal, my whale pictures are less than dramatic. I am praying for a whale to breach, but it doesn’t happen. I conclude that, as rumored and written, this area (the northeastern corner of Vancouver Island) must be literally infested with killer whales in the summer months. During our 1995 trip around Vancouver Island we saw another pod of killer whales about 40 nautical miles northwest of our current position in Goletas Channel. Killer whales near Robson Bight. [80-200mm, F4, 1/300-1/600sec, Kodak RG 100]
It is getting late and we still don’t have a final destination in mind. Scary, but this is starting to become our modus operandi. We bid the whales goodbye, and point Patience’s bowsprit northward again. We pass Telegraph Cove, a well-known, whale watching hub. I peer in at the facilities located at the cove through our binoculars. I cannot see much in the way of dockage. The facilities appear to mostly be geared towards sportsfishing, whale watching expeditions and maybe kayakers. We press on.
While we really would have liked to make Port McNeill, we ultimately decide to go to Alert Bay for the night. We have been fighting the flood for a couple hours, with little or no negative effect. This changes as we pass the Pearse Islands where the flood really kicks in. Our forward progress slows to about 4 knots. From what I have read, Port McNeill sounds like the nicer stopover than Alert Bay. We later meet two sailors from Port McNeill and they confirm this. We have already logged 75+ nautical miles and are fighting a pretty strong current. Whale diving near Robson Bight, Northern Johnstone Strait. [80-200mm, F4, 1/300-1/600sec, Kodak RG 100].
The entrance to Alert Bay is straightforward. We pull in at 8:45PM and moor at the public dock at the southeast end of the bay. We are tied up with some fish boats and a sailboat called Kaya. This is the same sailboat we watched trying to get through the Yacultas when we had dinner at Stewart Island two nights before. I am a little nervous about mooring on the inside of the dock as it looks a little shallow, but a guy comes out of the Italian Restaurant above the dock and yells down that there is plenty of water. I check out the tides and there is little swing in the tide for the next day (12 foot high [3.7M], 6 foot low [1.8M]).
It has been a long day. We have logged over 75 nautical miles. I am tired, as I didn’t sleep very well last night. Amy and I go for a quick walk and them come back and hit the sack. Amy declares that Alert bay is a “ghost town” and that we are being “stalked” by locals. I am skeptical and think that maybe sleep deprivation is playing some role in this. I sleep like a rock because I am so tired, however, it takes Amy a while to fall asleep because of the rocking and rolling. Beware, this float would be very exposed on a windy night.
The next morning we get we wake at 9:00AM. To be honest, our impression of Alert Bay last night was not very positive. Today things look much brighter. It’s funny what a little sleep will do. The wharfmaster comes by and collects moorage; C$14.85—not too bad, especially with the 0.667 exchange rate. She is very nice and has a funny laugh. She tells us that the other two marinas are also government operated, have breakwaters and offer better shelter. The wharfmaster tells us about the Indian Museum that is in a large (large by Alert Bay standards) brick building in the north part of the bay. She also mentions that there is a campground (with showers) and a nice boardwalk around a lake towards the middle of the island. We later see a picture of this lake and boardwalk and it looks beautiful. At any rate, we did not have time to do any of the things she tells us about, but they sounded interesting. Patience moored in Alert Bay. Esso station and Native settlement in background (north part of bay). [35-70mm, unknown exposures, Kodak RG 100].
We get up and go for a walk. The dock has no fresh water – you have to go to the Esso station for fresh water (“good water”, versus the “bad water” at Port Hardy per the Harbormaster). There is a garbage can on the pier. I gleefully run back down to the boat for our garbage. Our brown ship’s garbage can is filled to the brim with garbage despite our “trash-awareness”. We haven’t been able to dump garbage since Nanaimo, 5 days ago.
There is a grocery store, liquor store and post office right up from the public pier. If you turn left at the top of the pier and head north, there is a hardware store (apparently has propane), an Esso station (on the water), a ferry terminal and bunch of tourist-type stores. The Indian settlement is apparently further down the bay, although we never made it. We head to the grocery store to stock up. The butcher is nice, and we buy a couple steaks and a bunch of “whale” postcards. The cashier is really nice (everyone we met in Alert Bay was very nice) and tells us all about the whales. Apparently there are 200 or 300 Orcas that spend the winter up around Namu and Bella Bella. In the summer they migrate down to this area. She says they follow the salmon down to Vancouver Island – apparently they like the easy eating. The residents of Alert Bay have names/numbers for all the pods of whales. The cashier asks us if we could “tell her what pod number we saw last night...” Hahaha. Like we know! Anyway, she says the whales that we saw, were one of the first sightings of the year. It sounds like we have a great chance of seeing more Orcas. Whale watching company in Alert Bay. [35-70mm, unknown exposures, Kodak RG 100].
After this, we wander down to the local whale watching company. Amy buys baby Jacob Beck a whale T-shirt. I chat with the lady who seems to be in charge. She is from New Zealand and I manage to avoid insulting her by asking her if she is an Aussie. She repeats much of what the grocery clerk has already told us. Of interest, she mentions that we might see some dolphins. She isn’t referring to the Dahl Porpoises we have seen thus far, but real “Flipper-like” dolphins that jump clear out of the water. We will keep our eyes peeled. How much would we like to see a pod of dolphins escorting Patience northwards?
I meet two guys on a small “kicker” boat who have just come down from the Charlottes. I tell them we are on our way there. They say the islands are beautiful, but cold. They say not to miss Hot Springs Island and also recommend stopping at Namu and Shearwater on our way up the Inside Passage. Apparently some guy named “Lance” has put a lot of money into revitalizing Namu and it is really nice.
Our final assessment of Alert Bay is that it isn’t too bad a place. However, it is a little commercial for us. While the inner government wharves offer more protection from foul weather, they are packed with fish and other commercial vessels.
We pull out of the public dock at Alert bay around 12:30PM and head for the Esso dock. We are on full lookout for whales. At the Esso dock I fill up the "60 gallon" diesel tank. I think the 60 gallon (227 liters) tank is, in reality, something less than 60 gallons (227 liters). The tank is dead empty and it only takes 40 gallons (151 liters). Hmmmm. Oh well, we did get about 44 hours (pretty hard running) of engine running out of it. We depart the gas dock at 12:45PM, once again on the lookout for whales. M/V Noordham coming through Haddington Passage. [80-200mm, F8, 1/500sec Kodak RG 100].
Once again, it looks like it is going to be a nice day. We have dubbed the current conditions, “marine clouds and sun”. Over the course of an hour we see three cruise ships. I thought we would see some cruise ships on this trip, but three in an hour? We see the m/v Galaxy and Crystal Harmony headed southbound down Broughton Strait. As we pass through Haddington Passage the m/v Noordam passes us, also headed southbound. Passing the Noordam is pretty exciting, as Haddington Passage is relatively tight. Amy and I debate which ship was the nicest. I vote for the Noordam and Amy votes for Crystal Harmony. I tell Amy that the Crystal Harmony looks like a floating spaceship—horrible lines. At least the Noordam looks like a ship.
We eat a lunch of hot open face sandwiches and continue our whale watch. I am convinced the floating leviathans that just passed us have scared all sea life in the immediate area completely away. We pass Pulteney Point, which has a very pretty lighthouse. Amy has now finished Cat & Mouse and is now reading Street Lawyer, by John Grishham. We decide to vote on the best & worse items that we have brought on the trip. Amy’s jean jacket takes the award for “worst item”. She grabbed it at the last minute and all it does is get damp and take up space. We vote Jose’s Eddie Bauer “Down Surge” pillow the best item. We have been putting it to good use. Amy promises that she will wash it before Jose joins us in Prince Rupert





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Adventures in the Charlottes was written by Tim Whelan.
All pictures and text ©Tim Whelan 1998-1999.
For useage, please see my copyright notice.