Week Five

The Canadian flag is ready to be hoisted as we approach the end of our journey across the Pacific. Canada will be a first time country for both of us and apart from admiring several musicians who hail from the country, I’m ashamed to say I know very little about it. I wish I’d have thought to buy guide books and maps on both the US and Canada to find out a bit more about the places we’re going to and their locations. In a way though it’s quite refreshing to arrive with no preconceptions. Naturally, as soon as we’re in a town which offers tour guides and maps, they will probably be the first things I’ll buy (if they’ll accept Paul’s US dollars). For now, though the only information we have to hand is that within the navigational chart map and pilot guide for sailors. Along with the towns and villages in Raban’s book, I’ve been looking at the names of places on the chart: Port Hardy (where we are headed), Port Alice, Queen Charlotte Sound, Hope Island and Shushartle Mountain are among the names that jump out at me. The majority of these were named by the explorers who discovered them, (often obliterating the names that Indian tribes had given them) as explained in ‘Passage to Juneau. Even without reading the details of their origins, however, it’s easy to imagine the states of mind of the 18th century captains and sailors such as Captain Vancouver, when the names allotted to certain places were Desolation Sound, Cape Disappointment, Deception Pass, God’s Pocket and Cape Caution. Raban describes leaving Misery Island to head for Cemetery Point, passing Bittersweet Rock on the way. Johnny Cash, or Nick Cave could have found a wealth of inspiration for a ballad or two just by following the coastline around here.
We added another hour to the clocks to bring us in line with North American time this week and as I type this it’s 10pm and still daylight outside! With the moon almost full, it’s still quite light at 3am so it’s darker inside the boat during the night than outside. We will be resuming four-hourly watches soon. In fact, after reading about all the potential hazards that might be in store in Paul’s blog earlier, I’m not sure I’ll sleep until we’re in a marina! This last week at sea has been mostly calm – too calm at times when the wind was absent. Without the aid of my journal, Paul’s log and the blog posts, the days would be pretty much indistinguishable. The weather hasn’t changed much either, apart from becoming milder – still no sign of a clear blue sky…or whales, dolphins and sharks for that matter. I hope this disappointment will be eclipsed by the sight of bears on the beaches. I know they have been branded as a nuisance in the same way that urban foxes in the UK have, due to their habit of visiting places where humans leave rubbish. This has given rise to their being labelled as garbage-bears but if there are bears to be seen, I would love to see one (from a safe distance on the boat as we traverse the inside passage preferably). In the Alaskan town of Ketchikan, Raban describes reports of them roaming through backyards, upending trash cans, diving into dumpsters and harassing old people on their way to the post office! The rest I can picture, but harassing old people! Why single out the elderly and why only as they walk to the post office!! They make them sound like a sinister band of ursine robbers straight out of Grimms Fairy Tales whose sole intent is to hoard the money of Ketchikan’s pensioners. There are actually strategies in place to curb their visits, which require people to put some thought and effort in to the way they dispose of food waste and cans, wrappers etc. That sounds more like the appliance of common sense to me, and would save wildlife from receiving undeserved vilification.
For most of the week we were able to move around with ease and I managed to bake some bread, some loaves of which were more successful than others. It’s hard to convey how much of a luxury it will be to go into a shop or a bakery and choose some wholemeal rolls and loaves; loaves with a good texture, unsweetened and baked by someone else :-). Meals this week have been about using up what might be frowned upon by customs inspectors. It’s possible they may just have a cursory look around, but Raban had to undergo a very thorough inspection from Canadian customs which culminated in three ‘elderly’ potatoes being confiscated and his having to pay a hefty duty on the wine he had on board. They’ll find no wine on this boat! I used up the last of our potatoes the other night in a rather indulgent dinner of burgers, ‘chips’, beans and eggs. The fridge is ready for a good clean now that it’s almost empty – ready to be restocked with all the delights we’ll find in Canadian and American supermarkets.
Anticipation is building now and I’m hoping we’ll see land soon. I left off typing at midnight last night at the end of my watch and when I woke this morning, the moderate rocking motion had gathered momentum. It’s almost 9am and we’re experiencing 15-20 knots of wind with very high waves rolling us from side to side, or should that be heaving and surging, in the parlance of sea state components (I’ve yet to discover exactly what state ‘yawing’ describes). Paul had predicted this change from the forecasts so it was no great surprise. What I did find surprising as it got rougher was how I’d got so used to the stable state, I kept forgetting to hold on to the ‘grabbers’ as I walked around. I have a few bruises to show for it, and suspect we may be having pot noodles for dinner if it keeps up.
After my lamentations concerning the ever-changing ETA last week, Paul turned off the little LED display and put markers on the chart instead which was much better because it was more realistic. Now, though the ETA is back on and showing me we have about 24 hours to go. We, or rather I, have had to put the heating on this morning and it’s pretty grim out there. The worst part is that it’s foggy and impossible to see more than a mile or so ahead. We’re still too far out for fishing boats but cargo ships are beginning to appear on the AIS more frequently. I have a feeling I might get quite emotional at the sight of land. It will make the watches more interesting anyway – a welcome change from sky and water.
I’m very pleased that I won’t be writing a week six blog entry. We’ve notched up over 4,300 nautical miles and have been at sea for 37 days, and despite my little bout of cabin fever last week I have loved the experience. I think I’ve earned a glass of wine or two when we hit land tomorrow.
Kathy