Just go

Shortly after we moved here I was given two sage pieces of advice for living on the North Coast by a long-time Rupertite:

1) Always attach the lid to your garbage can with some sort of line or else it will disappear quickly in the wind on stormy garbage days

2) If it's nice out, GO!  Don't wait, don't delay.  You never know what the weather will be like later and if you squander a sunny day, you'll regret it.

It was number two I was thinking of as I stood outside on the most gloriously sunny Remembrance Day I've ever experienced.  I had planned on working that afternoon following the ceremony at the cenotaph, but it was so exquisite out that I quickly abandoned that well-intentioned idea.  Instead, I traded my laptop for a paddle and headed out with a few friends for a couple of hours on the harbour.

It's not that the Prince Rupert harbour is the most scenic paddle; industry, cargo ships, and the Port predominate the view, but there is still nothing nicer than being on the water on a calm, sunny day.  We headed across the water to Digby Island to stretch our legs and explore a bit before heading back as the sun was setting.

As daylight has become a precious commodity now that we are so close to solstice, and drizzly, stormy days are more the norm, these memories and taking advantage of good weather adventures are increasingly valuable.  I spent the sunny moments this weekend inside working on Christmas gifts and I've regretted since it started raining yesterday.  Still much to learn, including always heed the rule: When it's sunny, just go...

working coast

"Oh, the gallant fisher’s life, it is best of any, ‘tis full of pleasure, void of strife, and 

‘tis beloved of many"

--From Piscator’s Song, found in Izaak Walton’s The Compleat Angler

Walton wrote these words in 1653 about fly fishing in Britain. Somehow though, 361 years later and half a world away, it still seemed a fitting quote for these photos. I know full well that being a fisherman is no longer a life "void of strife", but while I watched this seiner work in the mouth of Portland Inlet last month, the joyful side of being a fisherman was so evident. The crew repeatedly waved and gave us the thumbs up as they brailed in their huge set. Contrary to the concentrated looks on their faces in these photos, they were mostly smiles, almost showing off as we watched for a moment.

The days of 40 million salmon being landed in B.C. sometimes seem as far away as Walton's 17th century England. This year, however, with strong returns, there was an active fishery up and down the province. Weaving between gillnetters and passing seiners while working on the water this July allowed me just a hint of what salmon season must have once been like along this working coast. 

wee paddle

Whine and you shall receive?

My last post was admittedly a bit of whinge about how summer has whizzed passed and I hadn't done many of the things that I'd wanted to do-- including getting out in the canoe (aka "The Red Dragon"...haha).  But just after my online pout, Ty patched the canoe and we had a chance to go for a short paddle last weekend out of Kloiya Bay.

Kloiya is just a few minutes out of town, with an easy to miss turn off just after the Galloway Rapids Bridge.  If you don't have a boat of your own, Skeena Kayaking rents rough and tumble plastic kayaks there during the summer time. We had Ty's siblings and another friend with us who all rented without any issue (though apparently the paddles were extremely heavy).

We headed out later in the afternoon than we'd hoped, so we weren't out for long -- just a couple of hours. Despite the overcast skies with rain off and on throughout, it was really lovely. Nothing nicer than being out on the water.  

We had a few seals following along, and the kayaks could easily tuck in close to the rocky shorelines to scope out the intertidal life.  We hung a right heading out of Kloiya Bay (northeast), taking us up Denise Inlet.  If you go left, you'll head into Morse Basin which leads you either to the Galloway Rapids and the Wainright Basin, or towards Butze Rapids and Prince Rupert.  

It was a great spot to spend the afternoon.  If we go again I'll pack a picnic and maybe a crab trap and spend a bit more time out there exploring.  Fingers crossed September is a beauty month and summer holds on a little longer...

metlakatla trail

The best adventures always seem to be fraught with a bit of adversity and our visit to the Metlakatla Trail was no different.  In early June, we had the joy of hosting our lovely friend Megs (or Meegs, if you hear her say it with her Kiwi accent).  To celebrate her North Coast visit, we planned to spend the weekend on the trail.  Despite the rainy forecast (we aren’t made of sugar!) and minimal prep (we had the important task of drinking beer at the Wheelhouse Brewery the night before instead of packing!), we made it out the door on time Saturday morning, ready to hop on the ferry.

Unfortunately, despite making a reservation (as instructed) earlier in the week that was confirmed by the trail office, and despite the fact that no one informed us that there was a minimum group size needed for the ferry to run, just as we were leaving the house, we were informed that the water taxi had been cancelled due to the fact that no one else had booked.  With our bags all packed and our hiking boots on, we desperately tried to find another way to get to Metlakatla.  There is nothing quite like someone telling you you CAN’T go that makes you want to go even more.

The trail office was apologetic and tried to find us another boat that might be making the journey, to no avail.  We moped.  We investigated chartering a water taxi, but agreed it was too pricey.  We got grumpy.  We hung out around the dock hoping to hitch a ride.  We regained our optimism - then lost it again.  And just when it seemed like the trip was a bust, we stopped in Cow Bay and stumbled across friends with a zodiac.  In a slightly shrill/our-weekend-is-nearly-ruined voice, I inquired if they’d be so kind to zip us over.  Metlakatla is no more than a 15 minute boat ride away and they happily agreed.

Weekend saved!

See ya later, Rupert!

The euphoria and whooping we made while zipping away from Rupert after all hope had seemed lost was a bit overkill, but there is something oh so satisfying about overcoming a hurdle.  With big smiles on our face, we hopped out onto the dock at Metlakatla, arranged a pick up for the following afternoon and made our way to the trailhead.

Metlakatla is one of seven Tsimishian village communities in the north.  It’s picturesquely situated in Venn Passage and our visit coincided with the wild rose bloom, so the town smelled amazing.  The folks we encountered along the road all smiled and wished us a good hike.  They seemed really proud of their trail.

The Metlakatla trail was built two years ago.  It’s 10km one way, hugging the coastline west of the village, facing Chatham Sound.  It’s a beautiful trail, and one that could be easily done in a day, but it does contain a small campsite near the 7.5km mark, which allows more time for exploring and enjoying the beaches.  Much of the trail is incredibly well maintained, level with crushed gravel, appropriate for many ages and abilities.  Most impressive are the suspension bridges that span several creeks and marshy areas, as well as the lookout tower that takes you up into the canopy and allows you to look out over the beach.

Suspension bridge

It was while we were up on the tower that I spotted a lone wolf loping along the beach below.  We were ecstatic!  It was a perfect vantage point to watch him, and he seemed just as aware of us (stopping several times to gaze up in our direction) as we were of him.  He trotted along the beach for a couple hundred meters before disappearing into the bush.

Bridge into the canopy

There is a wolf down there!

Another experience to check off my North Coast Bucket List.

The rest of our hike was spent spotting culturally modified trees, searching for western toads (which were plentiful), and admiring the thickets of false lily-of-the-valley.

After setting up camp, we spent some of the afternoon exploring the beach at low tide.  The weather mostly held, except for some very light showers, and we felt just too smug sitting on the beach, having a beer, knowing that we almost didn’t make it over.  After dinner, a fire, and some more exploring, we crawled into our tents feeling so cozy as the wind picked up and the forecasted rains finally appeared.

The next morning, we walked the beaches to the very end of the trail and then came back to pack up our camp.  On our hike out, we were lucky enough to spot a pair of sandhill cranes on the beach.  They seemed less stoked about our presence and made prehistoric-sounding squawks as they distanced themselves.

It was a great weekend and a combination of so many things I love about the coast.  Wildlife watching, tidepool exploring, big tree ogling, beach walking, waking up to the sound of the waves…

Despite the snafu with transportation, I’d really recommend to anyone to go do the trail.  Camp overnight if you can.  Learn more about the trail, reservations and fee here.

southbound sail

At the end of April I had a suite of meetings to attend on the northern end of Vancouver Island and thus had the chance to cross another activity off my North Coast Bucket List - taking the ferry down the coast.

Confession:  I love ferries

I know, I know, it's almost sacrilege to say considering how much British Columbians love to complain about BC Ferries, but the truth is, I adore a good ferry ride.  Love' em.  (Admittedly I've never lived somewhere where I relied on one for day-to-day life, which I am sure takes the romance of them pretty quickly, but I've probably taken 100s of ferries in my life and I still love them).

The trip from Rupert to Hardy is the grand-daddy of all BC Ferries trips so I was extra excited in the days leading up to it. That being said, besides booking myself a reservation, I didn't do too much research into what the trip would entail and what I should bring.  In my usual last-minute fashion, I posted a quick question on Facebook asking people what the must-haves for the trips were.  It was a bit silly, considering I was already at the terminal and couldn't do anything about it, but in case you were curious, here is what I got in response: Gravol, Night vision goggles to look for blows, Alcohol, Know where the liferafts are, A flask, A cabin.  I had none of the above.  Dammit.

Feeling like a rookie (no flask!), I twiddled my thumbs at the terminal for what seemed like an eternity.   The waiting an eternity part was also my fault.  The truth is, I am am a total goody-goody when it comes to check-in times.  It was a Tuesday in late-April, so of course the ferry was not busy.  None the less, since BC Ferries recommended that you get there 2 HOURS before this sailing, I insisted that Ty drop me off promptly at the time stated on my ticket.  And then I sat there.  For hours.  I'm sure in the summer when the sailings are busy, it's a good idea to get there with plenty of time to assure your reservation, but in April, trust me, this is not the case.

At last, it was time to board.

All aboard!

We had a spectacular day for our sailing, and as we left Rupert, I had a little hint of what it must have felt like to take a bit trans-Atlantic voyage from Europe to North America.  Everyone was out on deck, taking pictures, exploring the ship, looking excited.  But by 'everyone', I mean the 20 or so people that were on the sailing. Seriously, it was dead.  I was shocked by how few people were on board. The crew probably out-numbered the passengers 2:1.

Leaving Rupert

Scenes from the sail

Leaving the harbour I started humming a little earworm that stuck with me the entire trip.  Ridiculously, it only started because I am terrible with song lyrics (ask my sister) and I always sing the wrong words. I somehow mixed up Rod Stewart's  "Will I see you tonight, on a downtown train"...as "I will see you tonight, on a southbound train..."which seemed fitting for my southbound sailing despite the fact that I wasn't on a train and well, they were the completely wrong lyrics.  None the less, it provide my inner soundtrack for the entire 17 hour journey.  Good ol' Rod.

Now you're humming that song, right?

Haha. You. Are. Welcome.

Incorrect lyrics aside, the evening aboard was quite lovely.  The lack of people on this sailing meant you could pretty much have any area of the ship almost completely to yourself.  I spent time on deck enjoying the sun and searching for whales, taking pics, having a beer (why don't all ferries have beer?), reading a magazine and generally enjoying myself.

Beer on board a ferry! Sweet!

The Rupert-Hardy sailings in the winter and spring are an overnight service, so after a few hours on board, the sun began to set, turning the water an iridescent shade of orange and the clouds a cotton candy pink.

Sunset scenes

Because I was travelling on my own dime, I decided to forego a cabin and brought my thermarest and sleeping bag to make myself a little bed in the main seating area.  As I mentioned, there was hardly anyone on the sailing and I pretty much had about 20 rows around me to myself all evening, so I was feeling pretty smug aboout my decision to skip getting a cabin.  The smug feeling was short lived though, as just as I was getting ready to go to bed, another passenger came and made her bed RIGHT beside me.  It was the oddest things ever. There was so much empty room around us!  I gave her a look that could only mean "Are you kidding me?" but either she ignored me or didn't pick up on it.  Needless to say I let our an audible sigh and moved all my stuff a little further away.  She happily took over my former spot and proceeded to snore away the rest of the night.  Oy.

Tucked into bed, giggling over the weird lady that apparently wanted to sleep right beside me.

The next morning I awoke in Fisher Channel to the captain announcing that there were killer whale ahead.  I ran outside in my jammies and watched a group pass by at a bit of a distance.  It never gets old.

I spent the rest of the sailing, curled up next to the window reading and watching the more familiar central coast go by. I'd picked up 'The Oil Man and the Sea' by Arno Kopecky a few weeks previous and it proved the perfect read for the journey.  The book chronicles a sailing trip between two friends, one an author, one a photographer, neither a sailor, as they trace the route of the Northern Gateway tankers through the Great Bear.  It's eloquently and humourously written, while still emphasizing the multitude of reasons why the Enbridge pipeline and it's associated tankers are a terrible idea for this rich landscape.  There were points in my ferry trip where I was passing through the exact locations being described in the book, making it an even richer reading and travelling experience.

As we pulled into the Port Hardy Terminal 17 hours after leaving Rupert, I actually felt a bit sad that the trip was over.  There is something almost meditative about travelling alone this way.  For 17 hours I was quiet and contemplative, moving passively through a beautiful landscape, with nothing but a book, some magazines, my own thoughts, and the wrong lyrics to a Rod Stewart song to accompany me.  With life always moving along a full tilt, it's not very often in life that we take that amount of time to just 'be'.

wild abandon

am·bas·sa·dor

amˈbasədər,-ˌdôr/

noun

4. an authorized messenger or representative.

Sunday morning on the S/V Wild Abandon

Let me introduce you to the  S/V Wild Abandon, Prince Rupert's very own sailboat ambassador.  To understand what I mean, you'd only need to peruse one of the lovingly-made photo albums created each year to chronicle her journeys.  In those pages, you'll see that each year Wild Abandon hosts a huge variety of friends, family, visitors and newcomers to the north coast. Wild Abandon's main objective seems to be to introduce and share this area with as many people as possible.

Coming through Metlakatla Pass

Wild Abandon's owners, Marty and Mae, are some of the nicest people I've ever had a chance to meet. Open, friendly, and so happy to share their local knowledge and love for the area with anyone new, I feel pretty fortunate that we were able to get acquainted with them through my job.  Two weekends ago, Ty and I had the fortune to join Marty and Mae for a day aboard.

Hosts and captains extraordinnaire

In short, it was fantastic.

First time at the helm (photo courtesy of Mae)

We headed out early for a full day on the water.  Our destination was Big Bay in search of herring spawn and possible whales. The water was calm and we had enough wind to do a bit of sailing on the way up. Unfortunately, we didn't run into any herring spawn, but we saw an abundance of sea birds and eagles everywhere that seemed anxious and waiting for the feast to begin.

I discover the bow seat and refuse to share (Photo courtesy of Mae).

Scenes from the sail

After we had lunch beside an island that was pepperd with bald eagles, a few humpbacks made a quick appearance along with some stellers.  We made our way back, picking up an incredibly loaded crab trap (Ty and I were blown away- so many crab, all legal!) and sipping a beer in that content way you do after spending hours on the water.

As we got into the harbour, we set the sails again and tacked our way back to the dock.  It was fabulous and terrifying all at once.  I've been on a few sailboats in the past, but have never been at the helm of one whilst under sail.  As we were keeled over, weaving through the anchored cargo ships, I was pretty sure I was going to fall right out and into the water that seemed to be only a few feet below my shoulder.  That, or somehow slam Wild Abandon into the hull of something much larger than us. I cackled laughter of nerves and glee the entire time, checking Marty's face regularly to make sure he didn't look to concerned.

Ty takes the wheel (Photo courtesy of Mae)

Marty doesn't look too terrified, I'm ok (Photo courtesy of Mae)

Trying not to fall out (Photo courtesy of Mae)

This post doesn't do the day justice.  It was one of those days where I felt so certain that Ty and I had made the right choice in upping our lives and moving to this soggy section of the coast.  As we finished off the day back at the dock with another beer and some incredible salmon pate, I couldn't have felt more welcomed by Prince Rupert's sailboat ambassador, Wild Abandon, and her two wonderful owners.

What a great feeling.

Photo courtesy of Mae

PS.  To top it off, Marty and Mae generously handed over 7 dungeness to us!  After sharing some with our neighbours we still proceeded to eat crab for the week. Ah-may-zing.