Heading South through Northern BC

We're in the last two weeks of the voyage now, sitting in Port McNeill at the north end of Vancouver Island, catching up on internet.

Glenda and I spent several days in rainy Ketchikan preparing for our trip south. We were fortunate to catch the very end of Race to Alaska, participating in the celebration at the Ketchikan Yacht Club where the three last contenders were figuring out how to get home. Tim Penhallow, the last guy to finish and the person with the most time spent racing (he and a friend completed it last year too) wasn't sure how to get himself and his boat back, so we volunteered to take him and his boat in tow, bringing them to Prince Rupert where he made plans. This was one of those lucky happenstances, in finding him a wonderful companion and newfound friend. Looking forward to hooking up again at the Port Townsend Wooden Boat Festival in September.

From Prince Rupert, we rented a car and drove four hours inland, along gorgeous Skeena River and through magnificent mountain wilderness. We were visiting old friends from back in the late 70s. Jenny and Paul have a fabulous summer home near Hazleton, BC, spending the rest of the year in the Bay Area. Paul is a wonderful musician. The house was filled with the sonorous notes of his latest album and the patter of twelve little feet. Paul and Jenny have three cute dogs :)

After our short detour, we were ready to tackle northern BC, the most remote part of the Inside Passage. After a summer filled with friends and family, it was both sad and a welcome relief to have the boat to ourselves. We found several beautiful anchorages, then made an uneventful crossing of Queen Charlotte Sound to quaint Sointilla, a Finnish town on Malcolm Island. Back in "civilization", we went for breakfast in a coffee shop (the only one on the Island) and spent the next couple of hours talking politics and writing with several, one of whom was a published novelist who lives here part of the year and Okinawa the rest of the time.

I absolutely love the kinds of cool people we meet while traveling. As always, these random, brief friendships are what give me hope for the human race. So how do we keep that up at home, where we tend to hide ourselves away? This is just one of the questions this voyage has us asking ourselves. Is it time to change up our lives a bit? Certainly, what is happening with the election is a wake up call. If the worst happens, would we be partly responsible by not speaking out? But what, truly, can make a difference? We'll vote, of course. And my sense is that this is what is critical, maybe more than ever--getting people out to vote. Anna, a friend on Facebook, took the time to write down the 44 things she likes best about Hillary. I was struck by this, the fact that she took the time to think it through and write it down, trying to cut through the propaganda too many people seem to accept as truth. As a writer and a citizen, what is my responsibility? Should I just try to write the best possible fiction, stories which indirectly reflect upon what we're experiencing in our times? Or should I be more direct? Given the intransigence of those who support Mr. Trump, an emotional rather than rational choice in my opinion, what hope could I have of changing hearts? Tough questions, but something I'm chewing on these last couple of weeks, still mostly separated from everyday reality.

But I digress...

Yesterday, we shifted operations across the water to Port McNeill where we'll do laundry and grocery shop for the six day run down to Vancouver, where friends Jan and Dave will hop aboard, for the four day trip home via Ganges and Roche Harbor.

How could three months have gone by so quickly?

One more brief post once we get home, and then on to the next adventure.

Be well.

I love how so many Alaska fish boats are even older than me, wooden beauties that have been lovingly (in many cases) maintained, preserved and going strong. Since Amelie is one of my favorite movies, I was particularly taken by this one.

As a Board member of the Northwest Maritime Center, sponsor of Race to Alaska, I was sorry to miss most of the race this year. But at least we got to bring one of the boats, along with Tim, back from Ketchikan to Prince Rupert. Imagine sailing/rowing (mostly rowing according to Tim) 750 miles upwind in this little gem, which he built himself.

This post seems to be all about boats. Saw his buoy tender replacing a buoy in tricky Venn Passage on the way into Prince Rupert. He called me on the radio to tell me buoy 63 was currently missing. You can barely see it being lowered into the smaller boat, about to be put back in service.

Tim Penhallow, the last person to finish 2016 Race to Alaska, quickly became one of our family on the two day crossing from Ketchikan to Prince Rupert. He stayed on the boat as we drove inland to visit friends, and left these flowers for us when he departed. I'd told him about Freddie, our 1971 VW Van.

The view from Jenny and Paul's amazing house near Hazleton, BC. Not a single man-made structure is visible from their home. We felt as if we'd travelled back 200 years.

Paul jamming in his studio. We loved listening to his new album while visiting. Check him out at https://www.facebook.com/PaulMillersMusic/

Heading south in Grenville Channel. Hundreds of waterfalls are still flowing, even this late in the summer.

I dislike the aesthetics of most cruise ships, but the Disney boat is an exception. Passing us on Grenville  Channel, it's reminiscent of "real" ships of yore.

At anchor in Fly Basin in Smith Inlet. The morning was still and the tide low, exposing an almost 360 view of "totems", rocks reflected in still water.

I couldn't stop taking shots.

Turn a picture on its side, and you'll see why they are called "totems."

One last example.