Saturday, July 25, 2020

I think I’m alone now.

July 4, 2020. North Harbour to Klaskino Inlet. 18 NM. 0630 to 1030

Screenshot_20200704-141549_Boating HD

 

I’m really alone now. There is not another person in sight. No fishing boats, no wakes. No sounds of airplanes, traffic or engines. Not even chainsaws. The only sounds are the surf breaking on the beach, the wind in the rigging, and crows and eagles calling out. It is a strange, slightly uneasy feeling, to be this far from anyone else, this self-reliant. I guess other people will come into this anchorage sometime this summer, but I haven’t seen another cruising boat since Giebateau sailed away almost a week ago, and none showed up on my AIS today.

The day started early again, with the wake from fishing boats heading out rocking me out of sleep before 0500. I’d gotten to bed early the night before, though, so it wasn’t hard to get up. I had my morning cup of tea, then woke the boat up. First, the cabin. Clothes and life jacket ready for the inevitable drop in temperature when I stareted moving. Everything that could fall or be tipped over at sea was stowed. Soaps bottles and dishes were put in the sink. Engine check. Then outside. All the canvas came off the cockpit, the sailbag was opened, the mainsail raised, the engine started, instruments on, and the anchor came up.

As I motored out of Quatsino sound, I passed through a telus service zone, which would be the last I would see for some time. I called Sara, who was just waking up. We had a quick chat and I checked weather again before I lost the signal. Before long I was back out into the open ocean, and starting to get rocked by the ocean swell. It wasn’t anywhere near as big as it was when Sara and I came in. The day was grey and overcast, but the rain held off. It was still cold, with temperatures reading about 10 degrees before I got moving.

For a while, the wind was behind me, pushing out of Quatsino Sound. I managed to sail for a bit with the genoa and main. As I approached Brooks Bay, the wind shifted, then was blanketed by the peninsula, so I had to start the engine again. The swells built a bit, but it was still relatively calm. For about half an hour I debated just going around the peninsula today. The forecast was for wind against me, but not too strong. Everything I have read, and everyone I have talked to, have emphasized how important it is to be cautious around Brooks. Given that, and after our experience around Cape Scott, I decided to stick with plan A, and turned into Brooks Bay, bound for the anchorage in Klatsino Inlet, to wait for what is supposed to be a calmer day tomorrow. It would be nice to wait for a good northwest wind to push me around the Peninsula and allow me to sail, but it looks like the next several days are either minimal wind, or strong wind against me. With that choice, I’m opting for a quiet day, even if it means a motorsail.

brooks peninsula
Brooks Peninsula in a blanket of cloud

Weaving through the surf crashing on the rocks, I left Rugged Island to starboard as I turned for Klaskino Anchorage. Two sea otters lying on their backs greeted me as I dropped the mainsail. A big sand and gravel beach marked the turn into the protection behind Anchorage Island. I motored around looking for a good spot, but found the most protected areas gave little swing room. I opted to anchor out in 50 feet of water, where I had more room to swing on adequate scope.

Otters
Klaskino welcoming committee

By the time the anchor was down and the boat was a bit squared away, it was almost 11. I had missed breakfast, so I had an early lunch of cheese quesadilla and a banana. The anchorage was remarkably calm, and since it was still early, I decided to explore on the paddleboard. The SUP is really the ideal tool for getting around these anchorages. It is so much easier to launch than the dinghy, and can get into shallow water. It moves along pretty well too, at about walking pace. It makes no noise, so frequently wildlife doesn’t see me coming, and I can get up close to them. And no gas or engine to mess with means it will go as far as my arms can take me.

Alone with paddleboard
Paddleboard adventure

I paddled in and out of the maze of little rocks and islands, sneaking through a tiny passageway into a lagoon that was rapidly filling with water as the tide came up. I circled all around the boat, and ended up on the beach that I had passed on the way into the anchorage. I got off and went for a walk, and pretty quickly came to a creek. I could hear a waterfall not far away, so I headed inland, walking through the cool fresh water. Just around the corner were a few fallen logs, and a pristine pool with a waterfall splashing into it. If we were somewhere tropical, it would have been a perfect spot for a swim. I did reach in and test the water, but it was definitely too cold to get in.

waterfall
Hidden waterfall

I headed back to the boat, nervous to be away from it for too long. It’s time to run the watermaker again, so I started that up, then took advantage of the warm water from running the engine, and had a shower. It’s been a few days, and it felt amazing to get clean and put on a change of clothes.

The wind is coming up now, with the usual afternoon gusts. It’s good to be back on the boat to make sure everything stays where it is. If the forecast holds, it should settle tonight.

On the speaker right now – Yes, singing “All Good People”. With not a person in sight, it doesn’t really apply.

Alone from paddleboard

Totally alone in Klaskino Inlet

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