A gallery with text below. The gallery allows you to click on the pictures and see them enlarged. We’ll see if this is a useful presentation method.
I’ve also added Youtube videos. I’ve previously done this with linked text. Please give me feed back on what format for pics and videos works best.
Between very full days and little internet on the days that were not full, we have not been posting as I would like.
The engine did start fine the next morning going to Gibsons. It was the day after that and most morning since that there has been air in the line, but not always. The engine starting routine is:bleed the fuel line just before the injection pump, start the engine. It is a 30 second process. Somedays there is no air to be bled. I’ll change all the fuel hoses with new hoses and better clamps.
I need to read the documentation that came with the engine. Is it a new engine or a rebuilt. The entire engine has been painted silver, including the hoses and clamps, and the clamps are all one size, rather than small clamps for smaller hoses. I wonder.
In Gibsons, we saw a childhood friend, Trudi Diening, her husband John and one son, Josh. Trudi is one of eight children, so while John and Jennifer spoke, Trudi and I went through the dozens of people that make up the family now.
It was a wonderful visit aboard Caro Babbo. Trudy and John are building a house and outbuilding from scratch. They rode their bicycles to see us. Kindred people.
In Gibsons, we stayed at the public dock. It is a taste of the town and the people without the corporate smoothness that I suspect the other marina has. Pluses and minuses to each.
What had been most remarkable is the fantastic sailing we’ve had (with the exception of yesterday and today).
We have had the continuous good fortune to have anchorages completely to ourselves. In more than case, only one boat would have fit.
Jennifer has become expert at placing us in the center of pools large enough for our swing. We have not stern tied yet.
On the way out of Squirrel Bay, we slowed and spoke with Ray, the skipper who had just launched his well made, sturdy and heavy dinghy. From Aukland, Ray had bought Truce a few weeks earlier in Ladysmith. He will sail it to Glacier Bay and then back to Aukland. A great adventure.
Ray mentioned a waterfall that was worth visiting, so we did. It was amazing. Ray arrived an hour so after we did, while Jennifer and Hilary had climbed a ways and I stayed behind to help Ray tie up. During our four-person walk together, Ray told us he was modeling his trip after someone whit had planned on 12 miles a day and lots of time to see things. It sounded like a great idea and one that we may try to follow once we get to Ketchikan.
At the waterfall we met two men from Campbell River, across the Straits of Georgia who come across in there Boston Whaler to fish and crab. we were pleased to hear we were among the first boats this season and the first Americans they had seen. Yippee.
That evening we anchored in Frances Bay on a hump in the water at 30 feet, surrounded by deeper water. In close to shore the bottom was said to be fouled. We set a tripe line on the anchor anyway, so we could pull it up, if it fouled
Ray arrived a few hours later, after we had motored ashore in the dinghy and walked along the logging road.
Ray anchored close to shore, and in our radio conversation mentioned that he hoped our anchor did not slip off the hump into deeper water, where the rode might be too short.
A valid concern: holding turned out to be very good.
Hilary, Jennifer and I motored to a floating dock left behind by the loggers. The gangway that is fixed on the shore and rolls along the floating dock as it rises and falls had worked through the deck of the dock, hold the end of the dock under water when the tide rose.
In this part of the world, we’ve seen this other places in BC, roofing shingles are used as treads on stairs. All of the stairs and most of the rest of the wood was treated. It was stomp and solid. Not the floating dock, which was rotting. Perhaps the copper used to treat the wood is forbidden to be placed in the water.
The logging road was well made and solid, like the roads I once drove inn Nova Scotia in 1974. The bridge was made of very large diameter trees, and we came across the scat of a good-sized mammal.
We first thought is was from a bear (yep, we forgot to bring a camera). It was quite greasy looking on part, but had a large amount of grass.
At Caro Babbo, Ray said we wouldn’t cross the bay have dinner with us, but he and Jennifer discussed timing for the rapids the next morning.
We never actually see rapids. We pass through during those moment when all is calm, and so with Jennifer’s precise planning we did so again, finishing our days motoring (no sailing with times that tight) may noon.
We slept, read, worked on the boat. I baked a chocolate cake, bread and made dinner. The Taylors stove looks anything by new now. It works well, but I am still learning to not to burn the edges of things.
Yesterday another set of rapids and various straits and arms leading to Johnstone Straits. The winds would be blowing around 25 knots, but Jennifer said not to worry, the waves would be very manageable and they were.
We were under power, so we traveled in a straight line, rather than tacking upwind to our destination. The waves would sometimes break over the bow, but mostly the larger waves just shot spray all the way back to Jennifer who was steering – it’s her boat under power – spraying her and the solar panels, which became coated with salt; the same for the dodger and windshield.
Jennifer had picked tiny little Tallic Cove with just enough space for one boat, ours. There has been no competition for anchorage, and in fact we have only seen a two other sailboats this trip, and a couple of power boats, plus the tugs towing barges and log booms.
Like all good anchorages, it was blowing hard in the strait, but in the anchorage the water was placid and winds light.
We anchored and enjoyed the surroundings when one of saw a black bear walking along the shore EATING GRASS.
The uncertainty of the scat from the logging road disappeared: we’re in bear country.
As the winds shifted the anchorage became a ‘‘rolly’’ with boat rocking left to right was it spun on its anchor rode. By morning, the strait was flat, the winds were gone and we motored over glass to the next anchorage.
The following video shows the Johnstone Strait and the arm leading to it both windy and calm.