Princess Louisa Inlet

For several days the Canadian weather service had issued "strong wind warnings" for the Strait of Georgia, north of Nanaimo. We waited for a window, but were getting impatient, so we decided to forge ahead on July 11th. We left early in the morning, hoping to make it across the Strait to Pender Harbor before the winds reached their peak in the afternoon.

We had 15-20 knot winds from WNW, and choppy seas, but we made good progress with a single reef in the mainsail. As we approached the mainland shore, the winds shifted to SE, allowing us to make a fast run into Bargain Bay, where we anchored. We were feeling pretty smug about our ability to handle the "strong winds" of the Northwest, which at that point seemed far easier than what we had encountered in the Sea of Cortez.

The next morning, however, we got a stronger taste of what the winds of the Northwest can dish up. We motored out of Bargain Bay and turned north into the Malaspina Channel. There we encountered some of the gnarliest conditions we have seen. There was 25 knots of wind on our nose; the wind had been blowing hard all night and had whipped up steep, short-period swells that came crashing across our decks. With the engine at full power we were barely making progress. We only had to go a few miles before we could turn into the Agammemonon Channel, where I expected more protection from the wind, but after a few minutes (during which the GPS showed us making about 1 knot per hour over ground) Claudia and I looked at each other with a common thought--why are we doing this? We quickly decided to head back to Bargain Bay and wait until conditions settled down. It was a good decision.

Bargain Bay was a great place to anchor, with excellent protection on all sides. It is connected with Pender Harbor by a shallow passage that dinghies can traverse at high water. On our arrival, we found we could pick up (or perhaps I should say pirate) free WiFi connections from the local vacation homes. Our connection was good enough to allow us to watch streaming video of the World Cup final--which was a true bargain. While waiting for the winds to calm down, we stayed a second night, using the extra time and internet connection to search for winter moorage for the boat and to catch up on some academic projects. Here is a picture of Bargain Bay.

The next morning, we headed up the Malaspina Channel again, and this time had no trouble reaching the Agammemnon Channel, which took us north. By lunch time we reached the town of Egmont and stopped at a public dock. From Egmont we hiked a couple of miles up Skookumchuk Narrows, where we looked at the famous Sechelt Rapids. These tidal rapids, which fill and drain Sechelt Inlet, are some of the strongest in British Columbia. We timed our visit for max ebb, and because it was a Spring tide, the rapids were truly impressive.

It is amazing to think that these rapids reverse themselves every few hours, and that boats can pass through during the slack periods.
When we got back to Egmont, we saw that the tide had fallen remarkably--about a 15 foot drop from high to low--which is what drives the rapids.
At about 2 pm we left Egmont to make the 35 mile run up to Princess Louisa Inlet. To enter this inlet, one must pass through another tidal rapid called Malibu Rapids. We hoped to ride the rising tide up toward the inlet, reaching the entrance at high water slack, which was expected at 9 pm. All went as planned. In fact, we had a glorious sail up the inlet, with 15-20 knots of wind directly behind us. We dropped the main and sailed along with only the genoa, but the wind was strong enough that, with the help of the tide, we made 6-7 knots the whole way. At each twist and turn of the channel, the wind shifted to stay behind us. The scenery along the way was spectacular, with high mountains rising right out of the channel, snowy peaks, and waterfalls.

We passed through Malibu Rapids at slack water and were immediately struck by the beauty and immensity of Princess Louisa Inlet. It is one of the most gorgeous places I have ever been. Imagine Yosemite Valley if the floor of the valley were covered with seawater. The inlet was carved out by glaciers, leaving steep cliffs on both sides. Some of the cliffs are over a mile high. Snow and glaciers at the higher elevations feed a variety of waterfalls that cascade down into the inlet. The high cliffs provide protection from the winds, so that the waters often have a mirror-like surface that reflects the surrounding cliffs. It is an awe-inspiring place.

The best part was that relatively few people were visiting. There were maybe a dozen boats in the entire Inlet when we arrived, and they were scattered far and wide. We were able to pick up a mooring ball behind McDonald Island, near the center of the Inlet, where we stayed for the first couple of days. We later moved to a public dock at the end of the Inlet, where we also found space. But we found that a bit too busy with other boaters, so we anchored near a waterfall and, for the first time, secured the stern of the boat to the shore with a stern-tie (a popular way to anchor in the Northwest).


We spent a lot of time kayaking in the relatively warm water.

At one point a baby seal, who appeared to have lost his mother, came up to the kayaks. He bumped against the kayak as if he were trying to nurse, and cryed a bit. We felt sorry for him, but decided there was nothing we could (or should) do for him.

Near some of the waterfalls, we found a profusion of local berries growing. They were ripe and delicious. We gathered and ate them with great delight.
Even with all these pictures, it is difficult to convey the serenity and grandeur of Princess Louisa Inlet. It is truly a special place. Our visit has been one of the highlights of our whole sabbatical. The picture below gives some sense of the height of the cliffs--that is Sabbatical (the boat) anchored along the shore.

Nanaimo

On July 8, we sailed north to Nanaimo, passing through Dodd Narrows on the way. This was our first experience with a narrow passage where tidal currents are a factor. We had to time our passage for slack water because the speed of the current through the narrow gap makes it impassible at other times. We also had to use the radio to coordinate our passage with other boats. The Narrows are narrow enough that boats need to go through one at a time. Two tug boats hauling a huge log boom waited on the north side until we passed.

Nanaimo is a beautiful city, with a good protected harbor.

We discovered we had arrived just in time for the annual Dragon Boat festival.


In Nanaimo we parted ways with Elliot, who had to return to California. He took a shuttle bus down to Sidney where we left our car, and then headed south on his own. Claudia and I stocked up on provisions and got ready to head north again, across the Strait of Georgia.

Gulf Islands

With Elliot along for the trip, we left Sidney on July 4 and sailed out to the Gulf Islands. Our first stop was Montague Harbor on Galiano Island, where we were able to pick up a mooring ball in the Marine Park.
We were able to get around the island on the famous Pub Bus, which takes people to and from the Hummingbird Pub, and points in between.

The bus driver, a lively character who calls himself Tommy Transit, entertained us by drumming in time with music from a vintage 8-track tape player. He managed to steer the bus with his feet while drumming with both hands (and Elliot will confirm this).

Galiano is a pretty island with lots of public art. Here is an interesting mural at the Galiano Inn.

While at Montague Harbor we also made our first attempt to catch crabs with our new West Marine crab trap. We caught a Dungeness Crab, but it was too small and we had to throw it back. Here is Elliot driving the dinghy out to pick up our crab pot, which we left off a sandy beach.

Galiano is pretty civilized. It has good restaurants and good enough WiFi connections to allow us to watch a semi-final World Cup game (Spain vs. Germany).

On July 7, we moved on to Wallace Island, where we anchored in a small cove. Here is a picture we took from the boat while there.

The next day we continued north to Nanaimo.

Sidney, BC

On June 30, Claudia and I sailed out of Victoria Harbor and headed north to Sidney, BC. Elliot drove the car up and met us at the up-scale Port Sidney Marina. My long-time colleague and friend Alison Clarke-Stewart has a summer house in Sidney. She and her family kept us well fed and entertained during our visit.

We arrived just in time for Canada Day on July 1st. We attended the town parade and the annual boat building contest and race. Shown below are the boat building competetors about to launch their crafts. Teams of three had to assemble boats in an hour or so from randomly assigned sets of materials supplied by a local building supply company.

The competitors had to row their boats out into the harbor, around a buoy, and then back to the beach.


Here is the winning entry.

And here is a less successful boat,

that (thanks to the spirit of the fearless crew) managed to finish despite being fully submerged.

When the boats were displayed after the race, it was possible to identify some design problems.

It was very fun and interesting event.

We also visited the famous Butchard Gardens, located nearby.

Here is Claudia having tea in their famous dining room.

The stay in Sidney also gave me time to catch up on some of my academic work. I spent several mornings reading and commenting on drafts of graduate theses.

Waiting for YachtPath

A big issues for sailors who head south to Mexico is how to get back. One option is to sail back, but that requires a long, difficult "bash" up the outside coast of Baja, into the teeth of the prevailing winds. These northwest winds are often strongest in May and June, the months when many sailor choose to come north to avoid the hurricane season (which runs from the end of June to October). Another option is to have the boat transported back, either by truck or freighter.

After investigating this option, we decided to enter a contract with a company called YachtPath, that specializes in putting boats on freighters for the trip north. When we found that the cost of having Sabbatical transported from La Paz to Victoria, British Columbia was only a little more than having her shipped to Ensendada, we decided to head to Canada for the summer.

The major problem we had with YachtPath was continual delays in the shipping schedule, which created significant logistical problems for us. According to the company's initial schedule, the boat would be loaded in La Paz on May 27th and unloaded in Victoria on June 7. This was perfect timing for me, as I needed to attend a meeting of a statewide task force in Los Angeles on June 3, and UCI graduation (for five doctoral students on whose committees I serve) on June 5. So the schedule would allow me to deliver the boat to the freighter, fly to LA to take care of business, and then continue on to Victoria to pick up the boat. Had YachtPath kept to schedule, it would have been perfect. Unfortunately, the schedule slipped, then slipped again, and again. The pick up date was put back to June 3, then June 4, then June 7, then June 14, then June 15, then June 16. It was June 17 when the boat finally loaded. It was delivered to Victoria on June 28.

To deal with the delays, I hired Dennis and Susan Ross of Ross Marine Services in La Paz to look after the boat and deliver it to the freighter. They were extremely professional, kept us fully informed, and proved invaluable. Claudia and I flew to LA on June 2nd, leaving our boat in the Ross's capable hands.

We took a Horizon Air flight from La Paz to LAX. The flightpath went up the spine of Baja, providing magnificent aerial views of some of our favorite anchorages. It was a nice review of our time in the Sea of Cortez.

Here is a shot of Bahia Amortajada (where we were attacked by jejenes)--it is the bay in the island on the left. The island on the right is Isla San Francisco, where we anchored in the famous "hook" after escaping the jejenes.

Here is a shot of Isla Carmen, east of Loreto, where we anchored in Balandro Cove, which can be seen on the left side of the island, and hiked to Bahia Salinas, on the right side--getting lost in the process.

Here is Isla Coronados, where we climbed to the top of the extinct volcano.

And here is Caleta San Juanico, our farthest stop north in the Sea of Cortez.


While in Southern California, I was able to attend an important meeting of the California Crime Laboratory Review Task Force, on which I serve. I also met with all of my graduate students and attended the UCI graduation ceremonies.

In light of the delays, Claudia and I decided to drive to Victoria rather than flying. Our son Elliot came along. We had a leisurely trip up the coast, visiting our son Graham in Santa Cruz, my sister Janet and husband Paul (who were crew members during the Baja HaHa) in Danville, and some of my favorite cousins in Ashland Oregon. We also got together with our daughter Jessica in Seattle. Then we drove to Kelowna, BC, where we were able to stay a few days with our friend Barry, who had sailed with us in Banderas Bay in January. Here is Claudia, sitting on Barry's deck, which overlooks Lake Okanagan.


When it was finally time to pick up the boat, we drove to Vancouver, then took a ferry to Victoria. Here are Claudia and Elliot on the ferry.

And here is the freighter, Beluga Fantasy, on which Sabbatical arrived, along with a number of other boats.


Sabbatical arrived intact, with no damage other than some minor chafing on the toerail from the straps used to hold her down. After Sabbatical unloaded, we climbed aboard, started the engine, and we motored into Victoria's Inner Harbor, dodging float planes on the way.


We stayed a couple of nights on docks right in front of the historic Empress Hotel in Victoria's Inner Harbor--a lively spot where we were entertained by buscars and street performers.


From Victoria, we headed north, beginning the Canadian portion of our sabbatical voyage.

Kayaking at Agua Verde; Lobster at Los Gatos; Jejenes at Amortajada

On May 26, we left Puerto Escondido in the afternoon and rode the falling tide south toward Bahia Agua Verde. Along the way we encountered a group of at least 20 dolphins, spread out in a line perpendicular to our course, heading toward us. They appeared to be on the hunt, allowing the tidal flow to sweep prey toward them. Having read that tuna sometimes hunt in this way with dolphins, I quickly tossed a Rapala lure in the water and within a minute had hooked this big skipjack, which provided tuna steaks for several lunches and dinners.
The next day at Aqua Verde, we kayaked into the beach and walked past some rather ominous looking buzzards to visit the small fishing village. It has one restaurant, two tiendas, and about 20 small houses--a remote and sleepy place. We bought a few supplies and chatted with the locals for a bit, before returning to the boat and continuing south to Bahia Los Gatos, where we anchored for the night.


Los Gatos is a beautiful anchorage. There appeared to be no one there, but the next morning we met Manuel, a local fisherman who is well known among cruisers as a source for lobster. Manuel was friendly and fun. He spoke very slowly and clearly, so that we could understand his Spanish, and asked many question about our boat and our travels. Eventually he asked us if we would like him to get some lobster for us. We told him that we needed to leave within one hour because we had a long trip to our next anchorage and we wanted to arrive before dark. It was then 11 am and we told him repeatedly that we would need to leave in one hour. He said there was no problem, and took off in his panga.
When Manuel had not returned after an hour and a half, we reluctantly weighed anchor and headed South. We wanted to make it to Bahia Amortajada before dark, so we needed to go. We were about an hour South of Los Gatos, making about five knots on a broad reach, when we looked behind us and saw a panga chasing us. It was Manuel, with the lobsters. We stopped until he caught up, feeling bit guilty for having left, but Manuel was smiling as he sold us his catch.
Late that afternoon we made it to Bahia Amortajada, a bay on Isla San Jose near a large lagoon and estuary. This bay is notorious for biting flies, but we thought we could rely on our good screens to keep them out. This was a serious mistake.

Just after sunset, as we were enjoying a lobster dinner inside the boat, Claudia and I both started feeling itchy. We could see no flies at first, but eventually began to detect tiny black spots, that looked like ground black pepper, on our skin. When we slapped at the specks, we noticed blood. We were under attack from the notorious Mexican jejenes, also known as "no seeums"--tiny blood sucking insects. They were so small that they came right through our screens. We put on long sleeved shirts and pants to try to keep them off, but it was no good. They crawled right under the clothing and more seemed to be arriving all the time. We began madly swatting them against the walls and ceiling of the cabin, where they left tiny smears of blood that they had sucked from us, but made no progress--more seemed to be entering the boat every minute. Finally, in desperation, we decided we had to leave. As quickly as possible, we started the engine, raised the anchor, and headed out of the bay, hoping to get away from them. But this required going outside, which at first made matters worse. Our screens seemed to have admitted only the tiniest jejenes. When we went outside we were attacked by their big brothers and sisters. The insect flew into our eyes, ears, nostrils and mouths, on the attack, biting everywhere. Eventually, after we were a mile or two off shore, the breeze cleared them away, but we were covered in bites. The red, itchy welts lasted for days.

Putting to sea after dark, in those reef strewn waters was a little frightening. As noted earlier, our chartplotter has not been accurate in this area and there are often differences between the charts and guidebooks over the position of reefs and shoals. Luckily, the moon rose, giving us a little light and helping us see the position of some of the more dangerous obstacles. I followed a weaving course, trying to steer only into areas where the charts and guidebooks agreed that I would find deep water, and keeping an eye on the depth gauge at all times. Eventually we worked out was through the reefs and down to Isla San Francisco, where we anchored inside the famous hook. As we were dropping anchor, we were hit by a powerful corumuel wind, of about 20 knots, which blew all night, sweeping away the last of the jejenes.

The next day we continued south--anchoring once again at Caleta Partida. Then it was on to La Paz, where we checked into Marina Palmira to wait for YachtPath.