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July 21, 2020. Joe’s Bay to Dodger Passage. 12 NM.

 

It was a very different morning in Joe’s Bay today. A low fog hung over the anchorage, and a cool breeze blew in from the south. The fog wasn’t so thick that we couldn’t carry on our way, though, so we made ready to go. Before we left, we emptied the diesel jerry cans into the forward fuel tank, which was now partly empty. We anticipated going into Bamfield today, so we figured we’d get a little extra diesel on board while we could.

Close neighbors in Joe’s Bay

We wiggled our way out into Imperial Eagle channel, and were surprised to see three other sailboats coming out of the Broken Group, heading off in more or less the same direction. As we got into the channel properly, though, we all split off heading different ways, so our little armada didn’t last long. Around the same time, we saw our first whale of the day. Off in the distance, we saw the white plume of his blow, which at first we thought was a sail. It soon disappeared, though, and where it had been we saw the unmistakable shape of a tail flipping up in the air, then disappearing as the whale dove deep.

We were reviewing the options for where to spend the night, and decided that instead of heading into Bamfield, we would try an enjoy another night in a more wilderness setting. We flipped open our trusty guide book, and started to read about the anchorages in the Deer Group of islands. Dodger Passage looked appealing. In addition there are some old waypoints on our chart plotter that show that Norm and Beth, who used to own our boat, had anchored in Dodger Passage several times. With the amount of experience they had in this boat, and the number of times they had come to the open coast, we value their opinion highly, and it is a good sign if they have been somewhere before. So, we headed for Dodger Passage.

As we got closer to the open ocean, once again the swell built up. The morning fog lifted a bit, and for the most part the swell didn’t bother us, as we were heading straight into it. When we turned south into Dodger Passage, though, the swell hit us side on, rolling the boat side to side, and crashing into the rocks of our port side. It made for a dramatic entrance. It was short lived, though, as we were soon in the passage, and the ocean waves were blocked by islands to our starboard side. We motored up the narrow channel, and dropped the anchor in about 20 feet of water. The sound of the ocean waves crashing on the islands just to the east of us was clear. There is a slight swell in the anchorage as well, gentle, but just enough to remind us that we are very close to open water.

Rolling in to Dodger Passage, with waves crashing on the rocks nearby

Once safely secured, we headed down below for lunch. It was still cool and cloudy, so toasted bagels and quesadillas warmed us up, and running the stove warmed the boat up. After lunch, we started to get everything ready to get the dinghy off the deck and head into Bamfield. We knew it would mean crossing a mile or so of open water, but the wind was gentle, and we figured we could handle the ocean swell if we just went slowly.

It took a while to get the dinghy off the deck, the engine attached, the gas tanks, oars, and seat in place, as well as loading up our back packs with walking shoes and extra warm clothes, but eventually, we were ready to go. As we got in the dinghy, we saw another whale tail flipping out in Trevor Channel, which we were about to traverse. We headed out anyway, staying close to our side until we were just across from Bamfield, then heading across the open water to the other side.

As we entered Bamfield inlet and were just passing the Coast Guard station, the engine died. The MV Frances Barkley was docked right there as well, and she started to pull out. I quickly pumped some gas in the bulb, and the engine fired up again. We joked that we were glad it hadn’t happened out in the middle of Trevor Channel, and didn’t think much more of it.

Bamfield government dock

The next couple of hours were spent exploring Bamfield. We filled our jerry cans with diesel, and topped of our dinghy gas at the fuel dock. Then we headed over to the government dock on the west side, and tied up there. We walked along the boardwalk for most of the distance, but felt guilty since we didn’t have masks with us. There were signs all along that said masks were mandatory. We didn’t see any other people, so we kept going, but as we neared the end, there were a few folks around, so we headed up into the roads off the boardwalk, and walked back on them, to avoid the inevitable close contact with others that the boardwalk would have imposed.

Some of the sights along the West Bamfield Boardwalk

Coming back to the dinghy,we hopped in and headed across to East Bamfield. It didn’t take long to look around there. Our main discovery was a small grocery store, where we stopped for ice cream, and topped up on chocolate, which is one of the dwindling resources on the boat.

Haagen Dazs in East Bamfield

It was about 1600 when we got back down to the dinghy to head back to the boat. The fog had rolled in again, and there was light misty rain falling as well. As we motored back out Bamfield Inlet, the fog descended completely, and it wasn’t long before we couldn’t see land in front of us, or behind us. I pointed the dinghy in the direction I thought we should be heading, using the wind and waves to help determine the direction. In a few minutes, we still couldn’t see land on the other side of Trevor Passage. We looked at each other, and Sara pulled out her phone to fire up the navigation app. Sure enough, we were headed up Trevor Passage, more or less directly away from the boat.

We quickly corrected course, and turned back into the waves, using the app to direct a better course. The rain was a bit stronger, and the fog was still thick, so we were almost on the land on the opposite side before we could see it. We turned to run directly along the shore of the islands across the passage, feeling a bit comforted that we could see something in the fog.

Then, the engine cut out again. The wind and waves were pushing us backwards, in the direction we had come. I tried to get the engine going again, pumping more fuel into it. It briefly ran for a second, then cut out again. Try as I might, I could not get it running again. Just as we decided to pull the oars out, to at least arrest our backwards course, we heard a blow a few hundred feet off our port side, and looked to see the unmistakable arch of a humpback within a stone’s throw of us. The absurdity of being disabled at sea in a small dinghy, with fog all around and a whale close enough to smell his breath struck us both. We nervously laughed at the situation, and I started to row. Progress was slow against the wind, but we seemed to be gaining ground again. The whale blew again, and once more slowly arched his back. A few minutes later, and he came up again, this time flicking his huge tail in the air before he dove deeply. I kept rowing for all I was worth. We knew we could make it, but were likely at least an hour away, rowing into the wind and the waves.

Out of the fog, we heard the sound of an engine, and soon a fishing boat was jetting past us, heading for Bamfield. They looked over and saw us rowing, and came to see if we were all right. We told them what was happening, and they kindly offered to tow us back to our boat. By motor, it was only a few minutes away. Sara handed them our painter, and we were soon under way again.

As they towed us slowly along, I kept working away at the engine. I kept pumping fuel through the bulb, but couldn’t seem to get a good flow going. Suddenly, I noticed the arrow on the one way bulb, and traced the line back to the gas tank. The fuel line and one way bulb were installed backwards! Every time I pumped fuel, it was trying to pull it out of the engine and back into the gas tank! I quickly flipped the ends, pumped the bulb a few times, and fired up the engine. I whistled, and the fishermen in the tow boat saw that we were up and running again, and cast our lines off. We thanked them, and motored back to towards the boat.

As we turned into Dodger Passage, at first we couldn’t see the boat at all, but to our relief, it appeared out of the fog. We were soon back aboard, safe and sound, and much relieved.

Home appearing out of the fog

The rest of the evening was spent putting the dinghy back on deck, then checking weather and making plans. It looks like tonight will be rainy, and tomorrow may be another foggy day. If it is, we probably will sit tight before heading back out into the open ocean, and making our way south. We have some big days ahead of us, with fewer options to stop, so want to make sure the weather is in our favor.

Dinner was seared tuna with pasta and a salad. We put the enclosure up in preparation for a wet night, and sat in the cockpit, looking out at the fog as we ate, happy to be home and safe on our boat.

Soundtrack: Home. Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros.