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Chapter 9—Storm in Skidegate Inlet
Patience (second boat) anchored in Bearskin Bay at low tide (viewed from Queen Charlotte City). [20mm, Unknown exposure, Fuji Velvia] The next morning, Jose makes coffee while Ben and I prepare for an Avon excursion to Skidegate Channel. For some strange reason I am fascinated with Skidegate Channel and want to experience it first hand. The weather has gotten worse since yesterday. The barometer has dropped from 1030.0 (30.42 in) to 1024.5 millibars (30.25 in) and Environment Canada is calling for a southeast gale. It is blowing about 15 knots at our anchorage in Skidegate Inlet, and I put out 50 feet (15.2M) more scope to be safe. At low tide we have about 15 feet (4.6M) of water underneath us, while at high tide we have about 35 feet (10.7M). Depending on the level of the tide we have between a 10:1 and a 4:1 rode to depth ratio. Given that and the mud bottom I am felling pretty well secured. Author and Ben in the 'Mobile One' heading off to explore Skidegate Channel. Bearskin Bay, Queen Charlotte Islands [35-70mm, Unknown exposure, Kodak RG 100]
Ben and I head off in the Avon for Skidegate Channel. I am feeling very Jaques Cousteau-ish, and much to Jose and Sebastian’s entertainment, have equipped the Avon for the worse. We have the handheld VHF, flares, emergency provisions, chart and photography gear all crammed into a watertight bag. About 10 minutes into our trip, Ben and I are beginning to wonder if the excursion is such a good idea. Despite our foul weather gear we are getting soaked and are taking a thrashing. “Waves” that we wouldn’t even feel on the Patience seem like monstrous rollers in our tiny 9 foot (2.85M) Avon. However, I have come long and far to see the Charlottes and am not going to turn back without a fight. We continue on, wind at our backs, still taking a thrashing. On our way, we see a number of sports fishing boats headed out I assume to Rennell Sound via Skidegate Channel. They look at us like we are crazy. Looking east from the East Narrows of Skidegate Channel. Note red range marker in left center of picture. Picture was taken at about a 1.5 foot tide in Skidegate Channel. [35-70mm, Unknown exposure, Kodak RG 100]
The trip is about 10 nautical miles (each way), which takes us a good hour by Avon. I am not sure, but I think we end up fighting the current the whole way to the Channel. This would seem to infer that when the tide is on its way in, it runs from the west to the east. It seems this holds true at least for the eastern part of the narrows and western part of Skidegate Inlet. We finally get to the channel and beach the Avon. The forest around the channel has been heavily clear-cut and is not terribly pretty. The water in the east part of the channel is about 3 feet (0.9M) deep around where we beach the Avon. The tide at the time we are doing our exploration is low, but rising. At time of exploration, the tide stations in Skidegate Channel are reading about 1.5 feet (0.5M), and the tide station in Queen Charlotte City is reading about 5.5 feet (1.7M). This would seem to infer that with tides less than about -1.5 feet (0.5M) in the Channel and 2.5 feet (0.8M) in Queen Charlotte City, that Skidegate Channel would be pretty high and dry. This would also seem to infer that with a 20 foot (6.1M) tide at Queen Charlotte City there would be about 18 feet (5.5M) of water in the channel fairway. Please keep in mind that we only explored the very eastern entrance to the channel (Eastern Narrows) and were not able to venture any further. Looking west from the East Narrows of Skidegate Channel. Picture was taken at about a 1.5 foot tide in Skidegate Channel. [35-70mm, Unknown exposure, Kodak RG 100] At any rate, navigating the channel in a full keeled sailboat would require careful attention.
While onshore at Skidegate Channel, we take some pictures and look at the navigation beacons that are designed to help navigate the channel. I try calling the Patience on the handheld VHF, but we are not able to hear them. The tide is coming in very quickly and flowing in over the mud and rock flats. Within half an hour, the incoming tide has totally changed the character of the channel. What before looked like a shoal infested stream running through the mountains and clear-cuts, now looks like a moderately wide navigable passage; how deceptive.
Ben and I depart, not looking forward to heading home against the wind. On our way home, we skirt the coastline as close as we can, trying to find relative shelter. The trip is better than anticipated, largely because I think we had the current flowing with us.
As we get near the Patience, we are surprised to find that we can pass between Lina Island and the small island (labeled "36" on the chart) to the east of it. When we had headed out to Skidegate Channel a mere 2 or 3 hours before, this “passage” had been high and dry and absolutely unnavigable. It is amazing what the 20+ foot (6.1+M) tidal range in this part of the world can do. We stop and land on the east shore of Lina Island and take some more pictures and then head back to the boat. It was a fun excursion, but I discourage Sebastian and Jose from trying it. Later that day, Sebastian and I go back to the east shore of Lina Island and take some more pictures and watch the tide flow in at its furious pace. We get some good pictures of some birds that Sebastian has identified as Black Oyster Catchers. They are funny looking little black birds that have a beak that looks like a big carrot. Looking east from Lina Island out to Bearskin Bay and Hecate Strait. Note spit and small channel at right of picture. 2 or 3 hours before, this passage was 15 feet out of the water. [20mm, Unknown exposure, Fuji Velvia]
Finally we call a quits to exploration and head back to the Patience. I check the barometer and discover that it has continued to plummet, and is now at 1020.5 millibars (30.14 in). Thus far we have seen the barometer drop over 10 millibars (0.30 in) in the last 12 hours. In addition, I declare that I have decided to rename Bearskin Bay to “the Bay of Many Winds”, to reflect all of the wind shifts we have been seeing. Yesterday the wind was solidly out of the west. Today, it has been alternatively out of the northeast and southeast. About half an hour ago, there was a massive shift where the wind clocked around to blow out of the north or north-north-west. I am no meteorologist, but I feel certain that this probably means we are in for some serious weather.
Before we head into town in the Avon I double-check the anchor rode. We head to Queen Charlotte City by Avon and go to the visitor information center. All people who are headed south to South Moresby National Park are required to go through an orientation session of sorts at the visitor information center. The sessions are held every morning and evening at the visitor information center; which is easy to identify as it is the nicest building in town. Besides one other couple, we are the only people attending the orientation. Two Black Oyster Catchers. There are only about 11,000 of these birds left in the world. Bearskin Bay, Queen Charlotte Islands. [80-200mm, Unknown exposure, Fuji Velvia]
The session includes a pretty good slide show and is lead by a Haida spokesman. Much of the orientation is geared toward kayakers and people camping on land, but there are interesting facts for sailors spread throughout the 45 minute presentation. While we aren’t too concerned with re-learning how to operate our VHF, we do learn some interesting facts about the park. The park and the Charlottes in general are home to the biggest black bears in the world. The speaker at the orientation also mentions there have been shark sightings around the islands, and tells us a story about how a shark was recently seen pursuing a swimming deer in Dolomite Narrows. Lastly, we are relieved to hear that that nude bathing at Hot Springs Island has been outlawed. We are fine with this news.
Apparently there are about 175 visitors in South Moresby National Park at any one time and about 2,000 people visit the park each year. Of the 175 visitors that are allowed into the park at any one time, I believe many of these slots (up to 125) are pre-reserved for tour boat or kayak tour operators. This doesn’t leave too many slots for “the rest of us”.
I get a little irked when I find the other couple, who has no reservations, isn’t asked to pay for the privilege of going to South Moresby National Park. Trying to be a good international citizen, I had actually made reservations months in advance to go to South Moresby National Park. The Canadian Park Service happily accepted my reservation, but charged me C$15 per person for the privilege. I don’t mind paying, but wish they would be consistent in how they apply fees. When we get home to Seattle, I call and try to get my money back, but they refuse. It seems the Canadian Parks service (or whoever is ultimately in charge of running South Moresby National Park) is keen on rewarding those who don’t try to be responsible and don’t plan in advance. Queen Charlotte City Visitor Information Center--where the South Moresby National Park orientations are held. [20mm, Unknown exposure, Fuji Velvia]
Related to this, I have heard of other people who have had complications with getting reservations/permits for South Moresby National Park. A gentleman I know went to the Charlottes in August 1998 without reservations (he didn’t know they were recommended). When he arrived for his orientation, apparently droves of people sprung up out of the woodwork, all hoping to get into the park. He was barely able to get in to the park and some people were denied.
To me, requiring cruising vessels to go into Queen Charlotte City and go through the existing orientation doesn’t make a lot of sense. First, the orientation is clearly geared towards kayakers and people camping on land. Second, while Queen Charlotte City is an obvious “jumping-off” spot for people coming to the islands by ferry or plane; it isn’t necessarily the best “jumping-off” spot for cruisers visiting South Moresby by power or sailboat. Going into Queen Charlotte City requires traveling a significant distance north and navigating the spit in front of Skidegate Inlet. The spit is at a minimum a hassle, at worst, a hazard. If not for the requirement to go to Queen Charlotte City for orientation, a cruiser could make a semi-reasonable one-day passage from around Klemetu to Juan Pérez Sound. This would make the islands much more accessible for those of us who hail from the south.
I hope that the orientation requirement for boaters is modified in the future to make more sense for boaters. Until then, I guess my general advice is to pay close attention to the current requirements to visit South Moresby; they seem to be in a state of flux. If you’re going to visit the park in peak season, I would make sure and get reservations. Howlers Pub & Bistro. Queen Charlotte City. [Yashika, Kodak RG 100]
After the orientation is over we head to Howlers Pub & Bistro for dinner. We all have hamburgers and they are excellent. We highly recommend Howlers to any wayward travelers who end up in Queen Charlotte City. After dinner we head back to the Patience via Avon. It is really starting to blow and the barometer has dropped an additional 4.5 millibars (0.13 in) to 1016 (30.00 in). We stay up late that night playing cards and listening to the wind howl through the rigging.
At about 1:00AM, everyone else goes to bed, but I am too fascinated with the gale to sleep much. For fun, I try to get the weatherfax working, but am unsuccessful. Every once and a while a bad gust hits us and heels the Patience over. I go on deck and check the anchor a few times. It is howling and pouring rain. The night is inky black and I cannot see a thing. I try turning on the spreader lights and this helps a little. With the spreader lights on I can see the small windblown whitecaps surrounding us and the anchor chain stretching at a flat angle off into the mud somewhere at the bottom of Skidegate Inlet. I record a pretty steady 30 knots of wind, with gusts to 35 on my handheld wind meter. Below, I eventually turn the radar set on to convince myself we are not dragging. I put the radar on ½ mile range and get a perfect picture. On the screen, I can see all the potentially threatening land features, and the other sailboat anchored to the north of us. Watching us swing back and forth on the radar screen is somewhat hypnotic. We don’t drag at all. I switch on the VHF and quietly listen to the weather broadcast. At approximately the height of the gale (around 5:00AM in the morning), I hear that the North Hecate Buoy (#46183 ) is reporting southeast winds of 39 knots, gusting to 49 knots. The sea height is 10 feet (3.0M). 85 nautical miles to the south, the South Hecate Strait Buoy (#46185) is reporting slightly less wind, but a sea height of 15 feet (4.6M). Radio reception is very poor and I am unable to hear the reports from the other stations. I finally tire of observing the gale and head to bed. I don’t sleep very well due to the noise and occasional beep from the radar as interference or ghosts pop up in our guard zone and sets the alarm off. The crew avoning back out to the Patience from Queen Charlotte City during the night of the storm. [Yashika, Kodak RG 100]
Months later, I hear about this gale again. I am at the Fish Expo in Seattle working at a booth. A couple comes up, and it turns out they happened to be sailing in the Charlottes the same time as us. However, they were further south, in Rose Harbor when this gale hit. From their description, it sounds like the gale was quite a bit more violent toward the southern end of the Charlottes. They tell me that the wind backed 180 degrees, and then the first gust hit them and registered 62 knots on their masthead wind meter. They said that Cape Saint James and some of the other weather stations (that I could not receive) were reporting gusts over 70 knots. I asked them if there was anyone else in Rose Harbor with them, and they kind of laughed:
“Yes, the entire fishing fleet.” Public dock at Queen Charlotte City. Looking south into Bearskin Bay. [20mm, Unknown Exposure, Fuji Velvia]
Through the miracles of modern technology, I am able to gather more data on this gale from my desktop in Seattle four months after the fact. By all measures, this gale brought with it the highest winds seen at Sandspit Airport (east end of Skidegate Inlet) during the summer (June, July & August) of 1998. I found one day (August 9th) that looked slightly windier, but based on other corroborating data, I think that reading was erroneous. The highest official wind reading I was able to find was from the archived data file for the North Hecate Buoy. The buoy reported winds gusting to 49.6 knots and a barometric pressure of 1003.1 at 3:10AM. I was not able to corroborate the 60 and 70 knot gusts that were reported from the south end of the islands, although I don’t doubt they occurred. Based on my research, there was no archived data for any of the southern stations (South Hecate Buoy, Cape Saint James or the South Moresby Buoy) on the Internet. Inside the well stocked grocery store at Queen Charlotte City. [Yashika, Kodak RG 100]
The next day we get up and the weather has improved markedly. The barometer has risen 10 points (0.30 in) to 1026 millibars (30.30 in). I ask Jose how he slept and he replies:
“It was a bit like trying to sleep on a water bed when there was a small elephant trouncing on the other side.”
Ben and I take the Avon into Queen Charlotte City one last time to buy some stores and inject some capital into the local economy. We come back to the Patience laden with beer, ice and a fishing license. Queen Charlotte City is equipped with a fine grocery store and liquor store. There is even a functioning cash machine in front of the grocery store. We bought our fishing licenses at a general store (called Megan’s Store I think, in central Queen Charlotte City) that has about every kind of general item you could ever want. Ice can be purchased at the Esso station, which is at the west end of town. The people in Queen Charlotte City were very pleasant to us.
Finally, it is time to depart and head down toward Cumshewa Head and Gwaii Haanas. We start pulling up the anchor and is laden with black mud. It is so bad, Ben and I have to get in the Avon and clean it off from with a mop and bucket as it comes in. We invest about a half an hour in cleaning off the anchor and rode and finally get underway at about 1:15PM.
On our way out we pass by Skidegate Landing, one of the two Haida settlements remaining on the Islands. Skitegate Landing is where the BC Ferry from Prince Rupert moors. I note there is a marine Esso station at Skitegate Landing. We have seen many eagles here in the Charlottes; probably at least 10 or 15 a day. Both Sebastian and I have seen eagles go into what we term “attack-mode”. Attack mode, usually goes something like this. An eagle will be circling in a holding pattern far up in the sky. He will spot his prey and then cock his wings back and go into a full dive-bomb. They zoom down out of the sky and snatch their unknowing prey with their talons from the water or land. I don’t think their hapless prey ever knows what hit them. It is fun to watch. Ben and Sebastian inside the visitor information center. Queen Charlotte City. [Yashika, Kodak RG 100]
As we head out we discuss where and when we will make the “go, no-go decision”. This term comes from one of Sebastian’s experiences at Microsoft. During a meeting, their team had to determine whether to “go live” on a particular project. Instead of simply saying “yes” or “no”, the manager in charge decided on a “go, no-go” decision. While we aren’t 100% sure what this term means, we believe it is primarily designed to cover one’s ass. We think it has a nice ring, and jokingly refer to our decision point as the “go, no-go” decision point.
We are hoping to escape the grasp of Skidegate Inlet by blasting out through what we hope is a weather window. We are experiencing a little blue sky, a moderate westerly and occasional rain showers. The barometer has continued its ascent and is now 1028.5 millibars (30.37 in). We have chosen our departure time carefully to catch the rising tide. While we are not wild about bucking the flood coming into Skidegate Inlet, we are planning on being aggressive on our spit crossing and want to make sure we cross on a rising tide.
The sandspit that extends north from Sandspit (the town) is an interesting, but somewhat irritating phenomenon. As mentioned before, the spit extends northwards for miles and eventually blends in to Dogfish Bank. The spit is huge and flat. There are some charted rocks (Bar Rocks), but other than that, the depths look fairly consistent. The officially sanctioned route through the sandspit (how we came in) requires going 10 nautical miles north to Lawn Point, then going west 5 nautical miles across the spit and only then finally heading south where we want to go. Simply put, the sandspit is a huge inconvenience to entering and departing Skidegate Inlet. Storm clouds over Queen Charlotte City. Looking west into Skidegate Inlet. [35-70mm, F11, 1/200sec, Fuji Velvia]
Given that, I decide to do something my dad always told me not to do. I decide we are going to cut the corner early, and cross the spit prior to Lawn Point. Don Douglas’s cruising guide says that he has successfully crossed the spit at buoy "C19" 5.5 nautical miles northwest of Sandspit, versus Lawn Point which is 10.5 nautical miles northwest of Sandspit. We determine this sounds like as good a crossing point as any and continue onwards. Jose is cooking us all lasagna and I am driving. Unfortunately the lasagna is done at the worst possible time – right when we reach buoy C19. Almost simultaneously, the first bee we have seen for days stings Sebastian. Amid confusion and flying lasagna, we make our turn to the east, out across the spit.
Sea conditions are very turbulent, given the inbound current, southerly wind and shallow water. Conditions are bizarre, but not dangerous. We pull up the jib and motorsail for about an hour across the spit. During the entire hour the depth sounder hovers around 20 – 22 feet (6.1 – 6.7M). As we are doing this, the tide registers 12 feet (3.7M) at the Sandspit station. After an hour, we have sufficient depth where we can start to turn south. Wind on our nose, we douse the headsail and motor into it. The wind and waves are stiff and we are only able to make about 3 knots at best over the bottom. Cumshewa Head and safety are 20+ miles to the south and it is getting near 4:00. Given the potentially hairy conditions, limited daylight and our lack of ability to make headway, we decide to turn back to the confines of Skidegate Inlet. Looking Northwest out over Sandspit Marina. Graham Island in distant background, Patience in center. Image is actually 4 separate photos stitched together in Adobe Photoshop. [20mm, F8, 1/80sec, Fuji Velvia]
Despite our relative despair and frustration over having to turn back, we have a raging sail back to buoy C19. At times with wind and current behind us, we exceed 10 knots over the bottom (a mere 20 feet [6.1M] below us). At C19, we turn in towards Skidegate Inlet and head towards the new marina at Sandspit (the town). We see no reason to go all the way back into Queen Charlotte City. We take a bit of a beating getting to the marina, only making 3 or 4 knots most the way from buoy C19.
We arrive at Sandspit Marina at around 5:45PM. Sandspit Marina is a substantial facility. The marina is essentially brand new and is probably capable of holding about 100 medium size boats, however, there are only about 10 boats here with us right now. The entire place is pretty desolate. There is power and water on the docks, although the water apparently doesn’t work. We are told that the local fire truck needs to come by and fill up the water tank before this can happen, although they are apparently working on a well to solve the problem. At the top of the docks there is a pay phone and a small building with a shower in it. Unfortunately for us, the building and shower are locked; shower access does not seem to be part of the package. There are no stores or any type of buildings nearby. Looking west into Skidegate Inlet from Spit Point. [20mm, Unknown Exposure, Fuji Velvia]
We talk a gentleman named Peter (I think) who is the engineer on a fishing boat moored near us. There are four of them on board the boat: Peter, the captain, the cook and a deckhand. Besides us, they are the only humans in the whole marina. Their boat is currently rigged for crabbing, although it can be converted to seining for fishing Salmon. He tells us there is a lot of crabbing in Hecate Strait and during the height of the season, you can find 50 – 70 thousand pots in the Strait. Peter says crabbing has sucked lately and salmon fishing hasn’t been much better. His skipper is considering selling his Salmon license back to the government. They are holding in Sandspit due to the possible foul weather. Environment Canada has issued gale warnings for the Charlottes, but even scarier, are the storm warnings that have been issued for northern Vancouver Island.
For those that don’t know, the word “storm” has a fairly precise definition for the mariner. Francis Beaufort classified weather conditions into 12 different categories. The categories are called the Beaufort Wind Scale. The mildest weather is classified as “Force 0” or “Calm”. The ugliest weather is classified as “Force 12” or “Hurricane”. A storm, as defined on the Beaufort Wind Scale, is a force 10 or 11 event and will bring sustained winds of 48 – 63 knots. By the mariner’s definition, a storm is one stop short of a hurricane. I have never actually heard a storm warning issued in the Pacific Northwest in July or August, so this is an unusual event for me. At any rate, this is what has us and the nearby fishboat temporarily holed up in Sandspit. Author standing on the tip of Spit Point. Looking northeast out to Hecate Strait. Note riptides over the actual spit heading north. [35-70mm, Unknown Exposure, Fuji Velvia]
Despite the dire forecast, the weather in Sandspit Marina could not be more beautiful. Over in the west there are thunderclouds hanging over Skidegate Inlet and Queen Charlotte City. Jose, Sebastian and I decide to take a walk down towards Spit Point. It is a 5 mile round trip walk all the way to Spit Point and back. As we walk east on the road that parallels the water we see dozens of bald eagles and ravens. During this trip we have seen an abundance of eagles, but never anything like this. In one medium size tree, we count over 7 eagles perched. Even more amazing is how unafraid they are of us. We are able to quietly walk up under their trees and watch them close up. It is a fantastic experience. The only downside is that I bring forget to bring my 200mm lens and miss out on some potential wonderful close-up pictures. The birds let us get so close the 35 – 70mm does an ok job, but I am still disappointed. In addition to the eagles and ravens, we see lots of nice unleashed dogs and a few leashed horses. In all, we see many, many more animals than people.
Jose checking out the eagles at Sandspit. In one medium sized tree we see seven eagles. Looking east towards Spit Point and Hecate Strait. [35-70mm, Unknown Exposure, Fuji Velvia] As we near Spit Point, Jose decides to go check out the airport while Sebastian and I hike out to the end of the point. At Spit Point, Sebastian and I take a lot of pictures. It is high tide and the landscape is wild and beautiful. It is an amazing scene. Standing on the point, it is hard to believe that the spit extends for miles and has caused us such aggravation over the last few days. Looking out, it seems that we should just be able to take the Patience 500 feet (152.4M) offshore, round Spit Point and then head south for Gwaii Haanas. However, a slight line of riptides gives clue to the shallows that lie underneath.
We finally turn back and head for home. Jose reports that the airport, in classic Queen Charlotte’s style, is very, very nice. We are in awe at how these facilities (visitor information center, Sandspit Marina, airport), that seem to be in the middle of nowhere can be so nice. I speculate that this might have something to do with the $126 million “compensation package” that came along with the development of South Moresby National Park in 1987. While the walk to Spit Point was beautiful, we didn’t see much commercial activity along the way. There are many houses along the road to the spit, but not many stores. If you are looking for supplies, it would seem your best bet is Queen Charlotte City.
Back at the marina, Ben has fired up and is partying. I tell him to turn the music down and he looks at me like I’m crazy and says: Bald eagle at Sandspit. [35-70mm, Unknown Exposure, Fuji Velvia]
“Tim, we are the only damn people in the entire marina.”
It takes me a minute to realize he is absolutely right. I grab a beer and crank the Metalica back up again. Ben prepares what he calls a “ragu-fest” for dinner and we party late into the night. I make a personal record and actually and stay up until 4AM. The next morning we get up very late and are all pay heavily for the prior evenings excesses.
I listen to the weather forecast via the pay phone at the marina, and the forecast sounds semi-promising. The storm warnings have ended and now the forecast regions are all just gales. The weather around us looks good, so we decide to make a dash and once again try to get the hell out of Skidegate Inlet.





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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.