Skipper’s Log

With the start of a new work week, Melinda and Grace were back at the helm to move us along our journey northward. We motored once again with the wind on our nose northwest up the Grenville Channel from our Sunday anchorage at Bishop Bay. Our next stop was Lowe Inlet, a protected anchorage off the main route of the inside passage.

There were several recommendations by the Douglass Guidebook as to where one might anchor safely in the inner cove. One might pick a relatively shallow shelf on the southeast end of the cove, a relatively deep anchorage in the middle of the cove, or a shallow plateau formed by the outflow of the Kumowdah River. Perception was the first boat into Lowe Inlet that day, so we decided to try the final option as it put us in a front-row seat for the waterfall.

Our choice of anchorage caused me a bit of consternation. We were being constantly pushed to the west by the flow of freshwater from the falls. In the meantime, by late afternoon a significant westerly breeze had kicked up pushing us towards the east. We ended up surfing around the anchor quite a bit that evening. I didn’t sleep all that well, waking often to listen for the wind picking up in fear it would blow us over our anchor and into rocks ahead of the falls.

We took the opportunity to fly our drone for the first time and get some pictures. I’m drone-challenged – our little DJI seems to never want to obey my attempts to extend the range and altitude limits beyond the minimums. It also has a penchant to update its “home point” after it has already left the ground. I’m getting used to countering its tricks, but still am leery of flying the thing much.

The next morning the view of the waterfall was stunning, with the incoming sunlight hitting the mist from the falls. The height of the falls varied with the tidal cycle, and the water was falling a bit further that morning with the low tide.

That day we continued our journey up the Grenville Channel, getting relatively close to its northwestern end before tucking into another nook in its side for the evening. The channel itself was impressively long and narrow, but still easily wide enough to comfortably pass vessels coming the other way. Even at its narrowest sections it is over 1000′ wide, but felt vary narrow as it runs for over 40 nautical miles.

We stayed that night in Kumealon Inlet, which was well protected. We were sensing a theme with the anchorages, which are often quite deep compared to our usual spots down in the San Juan Islands. There are typically a few shallower spots near the shores, but have their own risks with crowding the shore when at anchor. Kumealon was a bit like this, and we perched ourselves on a relatively shallow 45′ shelf in between a few rocks.

After dinner we explored the Kumealon Lagoon in our dinghy. The lagoon is connected to the main inlet by a narrow channel with very strong current and rapids during the tidal swings. As chance would have it, we entered just at the end of flood, and left just at the start of ebb, so had a gentle ride in and out. The lagoon itself was a large, calm lake of brackish water. We puttered up to the northern shore to see if we could spot any wildlife. Unsuccessful, we planed back across to the entrance, and returned to Perception.

On Wednesday we left Grenville Channel and made our way up Arthur Passage to Chatham Sound. We entered Prince Rupert Harbor at low tide and decided to fuel up our diesel tanks before tucking into our slip at Cow Bay Marina. This was a reality check on the tidal range in this area. At low tide Melinda had to climb what seemed an almost vertical ramp from the fuel dock float up to the office.

An unfortunate consequence of having a “beamy” catamaran, we hope for end-tie dock space but often get put on the breakwater. When we are least lucky we get stuck on the outside of the breakwater, exposed to the swell and wakes generated by traffic in the harbor. Such was the case this time – our spot inside the breakwater had been given to a group of jet-skiers, and we were put on the outside near a couple of very large motor yachts. The wakes from passing fishing boats were annoying, sometimes washing over the bottom step of the transom and setting the dock in motion that didn’t die for many minutes after.

The resident eagles were very active in the harbor, perching on masts and at least one time on our unlucky neighbor’s Starlink dish. I wonder if the eagle left a “performance drop” for him.

At Prince Rupert we finally found the fish and chips we had been searching for since Vancouver, in the form of Dolly’s Fish House. The fish was first-class, and at least temporarily satisfied our cravings for fried food.