Wells Passage to Cape Caution 51 miles
Cape Caution to Penrose Island 20 miles
Penrose Island to Pruth Bay 21 miles
Pruth Ancorage to the Koeye River 12 miles
The Koeye River to Lizzie Cove 23 miles
Lizzie Cove to Bella Bella 8 miles
Queen Charlotte Sound, like Georgia
Strait and the Yuculta Rapids, is a
transition point on the Inside Passage. After leaving the protection of Vancouver Island, the comforting symbols of our familiar society and security fall away. Marinas, repair facilities, yacht clubs, radio chatter, and crowded anchorages become rare. The signs of our own culture are replaced by the rich cultures of First Nations. Wildlife also comes to the fore. Orcas, salmon, grizzlies, wolves, coyotes and eagles are no longer a part of our world; we are a part of theirs.
Queen Charlotte Sound is also the point of no return. Once across the Sound, it is about as easy to keep going as it is to turn back. Within the next three hundred miles there is one repair facility--Shearwater. Not until Prince Rupert and Highway 16 is there ground transportation back to home. There is an airport in Bella Bella with connections to Vancouver. And there is twice weekly ferry service between Port Hardy and Prince Rupert.
Until March, 2006, this remote ferry route was served by the Queen of the North, flagship of the British Columbia fleet. She was beautiful, graceful, 410 feet long, and carried 700 passengers. Queen of the North was an icon, symbolizing connections between the isolated villages and settlements of the north coast and the rest of the world. To meet her in Grenville Channel or to hear Prince Rupert Traffic advise us that she would overtake Sundown in Fitz Hugh Sound was comforting--like meeting an old friend.
Shortly after midnight on March 22, in gale winds and six foot seas she hit Gil Rock off Juan Point in Wright Sound. The Queen of the North sank within an hour in 1000 feet of water; among other things, a reminder of how quickly the shore drops off into the dark deep. In spite of the late hour and storm conditions, fishermen in the First Nations village of Hartley Bay, seven miles to the north, responded immediately to the mayday call from Queen of the North. While they pushed their gill netters and purse seiners through heavy seas toward the stricken Queen, those who stayed at home began to prepare food and collect blankets for survivors. The Canadian Coast Guard vessel, Sir Wilfred Laurier, anchored in Barnard Harbor, fifteen miles to the south, also responded, as did a number of other Canadian Coast Guard helicopters and vessels. Of 101 passengers and crew aboard, ninety-nine were rescued. Two are unaccounted for and presumed drowned. The Queen of the North has been replaced temporarily by the Queen of Prince Rupert. Her permanent replacement is anticipated in 2009. Queen of the North was a kilometer off course when she hit Gil rock. To the best of my knowledge, the investigation is continuing. As my mentor, Walt Masland said to me years ago when I bragged about the size of my new command, Sundown, at sixty-four feet and eighty-one tons, "Don't forget Joseph, in the ocean they are all small boats."
The traditional route for small boats leaving the protection of Vancouver Island lies across the open waters of Queen Charlotte Sound, past Pine Island, Cape Caution and Egg Island with its famous light house. Unlike the United States, Canada continues to staff its lighthouses and it is not unusual to hear the light keepers on Egg Island exchanging information with passing boats on VHF channel 09. This frequently unpleasant and sometimes dangerous eighty-six mile crossing finally ends inside Cape Calvert at Safety Cove or Pruth Anchorage. The transit calls for a very early departure--before daylight if possible. On my last crossing I left at 0430. It's open water with no place to hide.
In the past, I have left from God's Pocket, Port McNeill, Port Hardy, and Alert Bay. But my favorite departure point is Port Alexander, a large, safe, uninhabited anchorage on Nigei Island. Starting here shortens the crossing by about twenty miles. From Port Alexander I turn north through Browning Passage between Balaklava Island and Nigei Island and in less than an hour, from Cardigan Rocks in Gordon Channel I get a good idea of what the weather in the Sound is like. If the seas don't look friendly, I just go back to Port Alexander, catch a couple of rock cod, set out the crab traps, and have a good lay day.
The goal is Cape Calvert. On those rare crossings when the sea is calm and the sky blue, it’s a great trip. There's nothing out there but water, so, with iron mike at the helm and no rocks or landmasses anywhere close, there is plenty of time for relaxing in the sun on the foredeck, boat chores, and a short nap. Unfortunately sunny weather and calm seas are the exception rather than the rule. More frequently those long swells from the Pacific with a chop on top, while not dangerous for the boat, induce fantasies of suicide in her crew. The crossing seems endless; everyone yearns for anchorage.
The first available protection is Safety Cove, five miles inside Cape Calvert. But the place is misnamed--it is quite deep, the holding bottom is uncertain and protection limited. Despite the desire to anchor as quickly as possible, I prefer to continue another ten miles, in the protection of Calvert Island, to Kwakshua Channel and the good protection of Pruth Bay.
Until about ten years ago, Pruth was a favorite stop. The anchorage was seldom crowded and frequently deserted. It was just a short walk along a good path, past a famous mask carved on a tree, to marvelous beaches on the exposed westerly side of Calvert Island. If the sun was out, it was easy to imagine myself on a South Pacific island: white sandy beaches, small islets in the distance. Our hunts for treasure on the beach were sometimes rewarded with finding olive shells, reinforcing the illusion of the South Pacific. Two of these small, beautiful shells hang on the wall near my bed.
But time and progress have seriously undermined Kwakshua's appeal. About ten years ago someone built a large, upscale fishing lodge on Pruth Bay. The idea was to provide upscale accommodation for fishermen who flew in to fish for the famous kings in Hakai Passage. With outside civilization encroaching, everything changed. The trail and the mask are still there, and although the lodge owners permit visitors to cross their land, the feeling of freedom, wilderness and mystery has vanished. Now, I feel like I am trespassing. Ironically, the lodge was barely finished before the fishing collapsed. Now it belongs to new owners.
More fishing lodges and significantly fewer salmon are not the only changes during the past decade. GPS and pin-point accurate electronic charts changed the way I cross the Sound. For years, tug boats and people with local knowledge had avoided the long crossing by taking another route close to the mainland. The distance and exposure were about the same, but in bad weather they could seek shelter in one of several inlets or bays--Blunden Harbor, Marsh Bay, Jeannette Islands, Shelter Bay, Allison Harbor, Miles Inlet, or Smith Sound. But this route had never appealed to me. The entrances to almost all of these protected anchorages are littered with rocks, and without local knowledge, especially in poor weather, it would have been difficult and dangerous. Better the open water.
With a GPS and an electronic chart, these sites of refuge suddenly became accessible. Now I leave the protection of the Broughton Archipelago through Wells Passage. The anchorages along the way provide comfort if the weather gods are angry. Once past Dugout Rocks, I head for the delightful anchorage inside Fury Island or to Frypan Bay or Big Frypan Bay on Penrose Island.
North of Queen Charlotte Sound, the Inside Passage winds
250 miles through the Great Bear Rainforest. Lying between
Knight Inlet and the Alaskan border, this is the largest intact
temperate rainforest in the world. It is the home of the
largest grizzles in Canada, of costal wolves, and of almost
countless runs of salmon. It is also the home of the Spirit Bear.
On my earliest trips to Alaska, I hurried through this stretch,
unaware of its magnificence. Here, on the North Coast of
British Columbia, the coastal range meets the ocean. The
inlets are deep and the anchorages few. While the waters
are relatively protected, rain is a constant companion and
gray skies are the norm. It is, after all, a rainforest. Like
many other travelers, passing as quickly as possible over
the deep and empty anchorages and intimidating settlements,
I rushed to the relative security and familiarity of Ketchikan.
Then I met Karen and Ian McAlister--environmental activists, organizers, photographers, writers, research biologists, visionaries, and, more recently, parents. Although younger than my own children, Karen and Ian became not only my friends, but also my teachers. They took me to the Koeye, Troop Narrows and Kynoch Inlet. Day after day, year after year, they opened my eyes to both the beauty and the fragility of their world. Over the next few years, they showed me what I had been missing and introduced me to this most fascinating and neglected portion of the Inside Passage. Ian showed me how to anchor on the sand bar at the head of Khutze Inlet, where the current from the river would hold Sundown steady on her anchor. And he showed me where it was safe to anchor at the head of Aaltanhash Inlet, beneath the high waterfall--a deep anchorage, but secure. Karen taught me where to find bear grass and how to prepare its rice-sized tubers and collect wild greens for a fresh salad--no preservatives or additives, no pesticides or fertilizers. We soaked at the tide line in the 100 degree water of remote Tallheo Hot Springs on the way to Bella Coola, and swam in the shallow and sun-warmed water at Gunboat Pass. We visited Kwakumi Inlet, Namu, Kisameet Bay, Lucy Bay, Evans Inlet, Yeo Island, Pooley Island, Klekane Inlet, Green Inlet, and Gribbell Island. As we hiked up the Aaltanhash River, Karen and Ian showed me hemlock rubbing trees where grizzly and black bears had left hair in the bark. We visited Princess Royal Island, the home of the Spirit Bear.
They also opened a window for me into the fragile vulnerability of this magnificent forest world. For decades the North Coast has been exploited and damaged by logging, mining, hunting and most recently by fish farms.
Karen and Ian first visited the North Coast in 1990. In 1991 they founded the Raincoast Conservation Society, and for the past sixteen years the Great Bear Rainforest has been their home and its preservation their work. Since arriving aboard their catamaran, Companion, they have built a home near Bella Bella and devoted themselves to protecting the environment and life style of this magic place. Karen and Ian are not arm-chair environmentalists. They have hiked up each of the 114 watersheds between Knight Inlet and Prince Rupert. Their book, The Great Bear Rainforest, full of awe-inspiring photographs and thoughtful, passionate text, has been a staple in my boat's library ever since it was publish in 1997. They have raised hundreds of thousands of dollars in their efforts to protect the North Coast from logging and they have initiated unprecedented and critically important basic research about coast grizzlies, wolves, and salmon.
At first it was the logging. Vast tracts have been carelessly clear cut-- Pooley Island, James Bay, Walbran Island, Yeo Island, Draney Inlet, Roderick Island, Tom Bay, Gibble Island, Ingram Lake. No thought was given to the environment. The forests were logged down to the tideline and across streams, destroying salmon spawning beds, creating erosion, and destroying habitat for bears, wolves, and salmon.
The remoteness of the Great Bear Rainforest is a two edged sword. Its isolation made logging expensive and the logging companies left it alone until areas closer to mills, like Vancouver Island, had been exhausted. At the same time, once logging was in full swing, marshalling opposition was more difficult. The isolation of the rainforest became a liability. Because the sites were so remote, the loggers could clear cut and leave slash as they wished. It is hard to organize a protest or gain publicity when the only ways into the logging sites are float plane or private boat.
For several years, Sundown became a bit player. We brought individuals and representatives from the Sierra Club, NRDC, and other organizations into the Great Bear Rainforest. With Karen and Ian as guides, we were able to show a few people the damage that had been done by the logging companies-- Interfor, Western Forest Products, Macmillan Blodel, and West Frasier. In some ways it was catch 22. As the opposition to the clear cutting became more pronounced, the loggers speeded up their destruction knowing that their time was limited. On Feb 7, 2006, after seemingly endless meetings, protests, demonstrations, letters, and campaigns, the B.C. Government announced a major decision to protect significant portions of the wilderness. How this decision actually plays out remains to be seen.
The Great Bear Rainforest is home of the largest grizzly bears in Canada. And, therefore, it has been a world class trophy hunting destination. Sportsmen from all over the world paid tens of thousands of dollars for the experience of killing one of these great animals. "Hunting" usually consisted of sitting in a blind constructed by a guide and waiting for a bear, previously observed and studied by the guide, to come along a defined path. In December, 2005, in cooperation with five First Nations, the Raincoast Conservation Society bought the trophy hunting licenses for the entire region--20,000 square kilometers--effectively ending trophy hunting. The price was $1,350,000 dollars.
If its not one thing it's another. Now fish farming threatens the balance and stability of the eco-system of the rainforest. We have known for a long time that salmon are dependent on the forest to provide shade, stability and protection to their fragile spawning beds. Water depth, speed, temperature, and clarity; texture of the gravel bottom; and forest protection are all critical and must remain constant within very small tolerances. We have watched television programs about salmon hatcheries with roe in trays and sperm squirted over it, assuming that this is not rocket science. But then we have begun to realize how rare and precious the natural process is, and how critical the various parameters are. Stream temperature must not vary more than a degree or two, the gravel must be just right. The environment that supports life is very fragile. Moreover, recently, we have begun to learn that the forest is also dependent on the salmon. Salmon carcasses, carried into the forest by bears and wolves, are a significant source of fertilizer essential for the health of the huge trees.
There are now over 130 fish farms on the British Columbia Coast, with hundreds more planned. These farms, using net pens between 30 and 100 feet in diameter and 30 to 60 feet deep, produce hundreds of thousands of non-native, Atlantic salmon. They also produce hundreds of thousands of pounds of toxic waste products. High concentrations of nitrogen from uneaten food and offal create hot spots wherever the farms exist. One by-product is a serious infestation of sea lice which attack native fish passing through these narrow channels between the open ocean and their spawning streams. This infestation of sea lice contributed to a 98% collapse of wild pink salmon runs in this region in 2002. In addition, salmon that escape the fish farm net pens threaten to displace native populations. The high nitrogen hot spots also contribute to toxic algae blooms. And, of course, farmed fish do not provide food for bears and wolves and do not fertilize the forests. As human food, farmed salmon contain artificial color, harmful hormones, and toxic chemicals. Besides that, they taste bad. Farmed fish lack the subtlety and complexity of the forest, the rivers, and the ocean that make wild salmon one of the rare and truly awe inspiring gifts of the sea.
The activism of the Raincoast Conservation Society is supported by significant basic research. At present, in conjunction with First Nations, the farmed fish industry, and others, the Society is exploring ecologically sustainable and gastronomically acceptable alternatives to open pen farms. In another project, teams of volunteers are collecting wolf scat from the most remote islands, closest to the open Pacific. These thousands of specimens are shipped to research labs for analysis. The result seems to establish the B. C. Coastal wolves as a distinct sub-species.
While the rainforest is a wilderness vacation destination for most of us, for many people it is home. The Heiltsuk, Heisla, Oweekeno, and Nuxalk First Nations have made their home here for generations. Archeological excavations at Namu show it has been occupied for at least 9,000 years.
The Koeye River is five miles south of Namu. It is unusual among
the watersheds on the Inside Passage in that the river dumps directly
into Fitz Hugh Sound instead of emptying into a vast estuary at the
head of a deep inlet. The Koeye River is in the center of the
traditional home of the Heiltsuk people, and has been vital to
their culture for centuries. Several years ago, land at the mouth
of the river, owned by outsiders, was clearcut and a fishing lodge
built. By that time the sport fishing had collapsed, however, and
the lodge never officially opened. The Raincoast Conservation
Society raised funds to buy the property and deeded it to the
Heilsuk people. Now it serves as a summer camp for children
and a guest lodge for visitors.
After leaving Penrose Island and before turning west into Lama Passaage, you enter the more protected waters of Fitz Hugh Sound--a good place to spot both Orcas and Humpbacks. One summer day I watched a young humpback swim along side of Sundown. When the youngster got too close, its mother would move between it and the boat and push it a bit away.
From Fitzhugh Sound, the usual route through Lama passage leads to a good anchorage in Lizzie Cove. From Lizzie Cove it is just an hour to Bella Bella and Shearwater.
Bella Bella is a thriving First Nations village and the center of modern Heiltsuk culture. There is a grocery store, liquor store, fuel dock, small medical facility, and many friendly people. Around the corner is Shearwater, a white settlement. There is a motel, smaller grocery store, a restaurant, fuel dock, repair facilities, and more friendly people. It's a good idea to stock up in Bella Bella and Shearwater because the next opportunity, with the exception of Klemtu, is Prince Rupert, 195 miles to the north. It is a beautiful 195 miles--Milbank Sound, Klemtu, Cougar Bay, Grenville Channel, Union Passage, Buttedale, Lowe Inlet, Klewnuggit Inlet, Baker Inlet, Kumealon Inlet. Next month, in Part IV of Inside the Inside Passage, I'll share some of my experiences in these grand places with you.
