Someone bugged me back channel for the rest of the report. So, here you go if you really want it. Gotta run, life is caving in again in my busy world - wish I was back on a beach in the sun... ------------------------------ Day 3 - Thur Aug 10th, 2000 Easily awoke at 5:00 am, 4.6 foot low tide had left very little water in channel between the little island I was on (Malei) and Nigei Is. Wind was low at 5 knots, with forecast for 10 to 15 knots with seas building to 2 meters. However, Egg Is. lighthouse on the other side of Cape Caution was reporting 22 knots. My water was getting low, but I decided to poke out and get a better view, then I would make a decision about the crossing. I dressed warm, layering under my drytop with the fleece sweater. A 1 meter swell was running down Gordon Channel. It was cloudy, with a forecast that included a chance of rain. Current was flooding until 11:40 at 11.5 feet HW, leaving a 6.9 tide range. Conditions looked easy for a crossing. Distances were relatively short, and once I had left Storm, it would be impossible to miss the coast of BC. A slow flood would keep me in Queen Charlotte Strait if there were a problem. I still winced at the thought of being swept out into Queen charlotte Sound. It was hard to loose that preponderance. Visibility was over 15 miles, with little sign of fog, and high cloud kept me from overheating. The only red flag other than being solo, was the anomaly at Egg Is., with the higher wind gusts. I figured the revised forecast would raise expected winds to over 20 knots, easily. I deduced that I should be over to the other side in time if I moved quickly enough. One and a half red flags was good enough. I also new no matter how bad it got, short of a storm, I'd be within my thresholds, so most of effort was physiological. At 6:35 I took a bearing on Pine Island, 4 miles away, and started paddling flat out. I visualized landing on Storm, and it kept me motivated. A mile out, the sea became very choppy on top of a growing one and a half meter swell. There must have been some tide happening. As the sun rose higher behind the clouds, winds picked up quickly to 15 knots - just enough to give a bit of an open water sensation. Two cruise ships passed by in deep channel, a few minutes apart. It was not a place to be if fog rolled in. With NW winds predicted, the infill winds didn't require much of a backup plan. Just turn and run with it. Conditions in mid channel got a little too interesting as seas developed a steady lump with a peaking chop and bracing efforts were required each time I crested and went over the "hill" of each passing swell. Wave period was 5 or 6 seconds, moving rapidly in my estimation for the swell size. So, I once again deployed the deep draft rudder. I could then concentrate on my goal. It was particularly choppy on the outside of Pine Is., with reflected swell edging up against this bastion lighthouse island in the sea. I passed the northeast tip of Pine at 7:50. The Storm Islands continued to beckon me forward on a fine, beautiful day. They were only 3 miles away. I new I had it in the bag. Europa Passage turned out to be not as rough. Sealed Reef near mid point showed little sign of breakers. I turned west a bit more and determined I would head for the outer Storm Is. first, and soon arrived at 9:00 am -- having slowed my pace somewhat, to savor the approach. A subtle feeling of euphoria sank in when I pulled up beside the scantily tree-clad island - one imprinted into my brain forever from last April of 1999, after spending four hours only a mile or so away from the "carrot" dangling before me (us). I simply said "thank you God, I've made it", and then thanked the ocean for allowing me to visit successfully. It was not I, but the grace of the ocean. I put the rudder up, and shot the reef break between the outer and second island, shouting out like some crazed sea cowboy that I used to be, back in my twenties. It really was a nice piece of real-estate, but there was no apparent landing spots. I tried seal landing into a pool just below the spray zone midway down the second island. I had done a lot of these types of approaches before. One requires a smooth pull-up zone just above the landing pool, and a pool deep enough and long enough so as not to destroy aquatic invertebrate life, or it also helps to have a thick protective and hardy coating of kelp. The waterfall of sea surge from the pool contemplated was out on a bit of an angle, and fairly high up above low trough point - perhaps 5 feet averaging. It was filling nicely with surge water, but was at a most difficult angle for entry. I had to partially broach to seaward, then slowly nose the bow up into the cavity where the water drained out. My new keel strip on the bow griped nicely, and I was slowly making progress with each surge, but eventually would slip back. The water was highly aerated and swirling mercilessly due to the direction of the swell. The next wave was far too powerful, and washed me right into the sharp encrusted wall of the high inter tidal zone, where I edged the hull land ward just in time, before it smashed against the island fortress. The receding wave left me dangling precariously at 50 degrees to the horizon. With the next wave surge I backed out. I had stupidly popped my spray skirt at the last second, expecting only a moment in the pool to alight. I had filled with water during the half roll to seaward, and so carefully paddled down to the third island in the chain. Multiple red flags had been flying, and I hadn't even put on my helmet. I could have shredded my scalp, or even just my drytop and some subcutaneous arm tissue. It had been a close call. I then found a more normalized seal landing spot on some rocks between the third and fourth islands, that had been split apart by a giant fissure -- where rocks had fallen into the surge channel that continued through to the west side. This narrow chasm must have split during some giant geological event, along with the divisions between each island in the chain. I pulled the hull above the surge -- the cockpit full of water. This had been no "hulliday" for the bottom side of my kayak. I remained amazingly calm and self-assured. I ate a satisfying lunch of mini Bagel's and block cheese, dried fruit and power bars. During the effort on the slippery rocks to re-fill my deck bladder, I knocked over both water containers. I was now officially out of water. I had maybe 10 ounces left in the bladder. Did I ever fell stupid and suddenly un-assured. It was time to vacate, as the wind had come up stronger. I knew it would go over Environment Canada's 15 knot maximum. Sure enough, the new forecast was for 20 knots. Slingsby channel was picking up on the ebb against the wind, so there was no time to explore the fourth island, where the Coasties had told us last year that there was some conditional landing spots. I left the Storm Islands behind at 10:30 am, and headed for Burnett Bay 6 miles away, where the chart indicated a good water supply. The swell had picked up to 2 meters, with a 6 second period. Wind speed was up over 20 knots, and some of the swells ran higher than predicted values. While I hate my Nordkapp on a dead flat calm sea, as it has poor "glide", out in open water, I feel a unique freedom with the sea kindly ride. However, some of the waves really peaked, and the Nordkapp would ride over the crest, and then change course to lie pointing face into the oncoming wind and waves. Even with corrective strokes and the deep draft rudder, it took some effort to keep from an erratic zig-zag course. I felt a lot of respect surge through me for people who paddle boats in similar conditions that don't have a rudder. I could also see why folding kayaks would have a nice ride in the same conditions, not being so prone to spin on the peak when paddling into such conditions at an angle. As nervous as I was, it was still all a walk in the park for me. EC reported winds to 25 knots once I got to shore to check. I wished they would get it right one day. The last mile was hard work, given a bad back and sore shoulders. The back cockpit of the Nordkapp in just too high. I lean back, I spasm. Rounding Bremner Pt. became much more difficult than anticipated. It was very turbulent upon the approach, with a bit of a weather tide. I finally pulled around Bremner Pt., but had to fight my way around it. Reflected swell bounced chaotically everywhere, and I had come in way too close. With the sea and kayak dancing wildly, it would be considered more like bracing than paddling in terms of what transpired, due to the point of land being somewhat blunt. I landed in small surf, in behind the hook of the point at 12:15 pm. It was sunny and extremely breezy. I ran around in the warm sand in circles like some 5-year old on the first day of holidays. I peeled down to nothing, and went for a refreshing swim. I soon found water way up-river, treated it with a purifier agent, after having noticed a brown color and little birds using the stream as a toilet. The tent was difficult to erect in the wind upon the shore of uniquely dark brown sand. I slept the entire afternoon, on and off, watching a gray whale play all afternoon in the bay, the sun glistening off its tail fluke. The pounding of the surf was muted as I drifted in and out of day-dreams. It became "white noise", reverberating an eternal rhythm through the complex interplay of mind, sight, hearing, and living and loving life in those precious moments where I am absorbed by nature; where time stands still and egocentrism dissolves. Reality called me back, dinner was quick and painless, food was hung, garbage burnt to ashes in the low tide zone in a hole, where I also took care of some other business and listened to the VHF radio (some guys talked about chasing an Orca for viewing off Cape Caution). Bed time came at 21:00. Day 4 - Fri Aug 11, 2000 Late getting up, so was a long haul to low water mark. Used river stream in sand to lessen friction. Sun coming up clear. Forecast was for clouds developing, swell to only 1 meter, wind to 15 knots. Would have been a better day for a crossing if it panned out true. Was across now, anyway. Left at 9:00 am with the flood. Got to Buccleugh Pt at entrance to Slingsby Channel, but my arm pits were raw with pain from drytop, so decided not to go for Tremble Is. and the famous rapids rushing by it -- some of the fastest in the world. Disappointed, but with two red flags up, I crossed the channel opening, and left another unfinished adventure behind. Skin continued to really burn. As the wind never got over 10 knots, I deployed the front stabilization outrigger, and removed the drytop. "Ahhhhh!" That was much better. I thought about retrying a trip up Slingsby, but back was getting too sore - another red flag. Wind did pick up near Bramham Pt., so put the rudder down. Said hello to divers doing research off the Emily Islands. Got over to Southgate Group - lovely islands. A big yacht was positioned to allow some old guys to do some fishing. The captain said I had a good flood tide for two more hours. I figured one more, but did not argue. I pulled around Westcott Pt. and into an incredible beach inside Shelter Bay. The sand was very fine and white - a true tropical like lagoon. The camp sites in the forest had elaborate pulleys for food hanging. This had to be a tenured site for one of the kayak tour companies. Tin foil lay about, as did rusted out cans and partially burnt fires. I cleaned up. The debris left me a bit nervous about bears. In order to overcome my bear fears, which I have had for 25 years, I decided to go for a walk through the dark forest after dinner. Kind of weird, but I love to confront my fears and overcome them. Had a lazy afternoon doing nothing. Slept, listened to wind whistle through the trees. worked on this journal on my mini PC. Called Yvonne on cell phone, said hi to the children. Technology! Called Pat Kirvin on the cell phone too, re current position. An aluminum boat pulled up at dinner time, turned out to be Pat's rebellious son - what a small world. He is employed by the fish farm in the bay. It was another early night to bed. Didn't worry about bears and the nighttime boogie man at all. First time in my life. Forecast was good for the next day: winds 15 to 20 knots. Another walk in the kiddies park. Day 5 - Sat Aug 12th, 2000 Left beach at 7:00 am with the flood tide. One foot chop on crossing, low swell, some tide jostling on surface apparent. BC mainland disappeared behind me in a blanket of fog. Reached Deserter Group at 8:30, and exited them using the fast flowing inter-island tides by 9:00. Crossed over to the Gordon Group by 9:45, and hit Duval Pt. by 10:30. Only thing significant was the heavy fish boat traffic off the Gordon Group (I counted 25 boats) and the funny incident exiting the Gordon Group: Two men in small power boats slowed down to an agonizing pace, so as not to create any wake for me. If those fellows only new what my Norkapp has taken me through over the years. Pulled into Port Hardy (under my own steam for a change) at 11:20 am. 16 or so easy miles complete. Trip done. Storm Islands laid to rest I paddled over to the Coast Guard dock, and got a picture of the new $2,000,000 cutter. Finally we have something as descent as the Americans do. I recognized one of the crew members as the Zodiac driver from the Storm rescue. He had complained about the pounding his back takes coming out into heavy sea rescues in the chase Zodiac. He was jubilant about the new ship. He didn't remember me at first, stating that there have been so many rescues up there, that he can't keep track. He then remembered, and said, "Oh yeah, you are the guy who was doing okay off Storm, I remember you now. You were very well prepared. You write or something, right?" Then he pointed behind the wharf, and said "Now this fellow, he's really famous". I paddled over, and it was none other than Timo Noko, kayak vagabond and world paddler of repute in his self-made folding kayak with articulating outrigger. We had a pleasant exchange and reciprocated taking photos. He was very proud of his kayak and accomplishments. His hatches were similar to how one closes a roll-top dry bag with fastex buckles. Simple and secure, and sewn/glued right into the deck, chimney like. He repeated five times how famous he was. I said how infamous I was. Funny though, with all his maps and world travels, he seemed so lost. He has no family, and lives off Nokia cell phone shares. He'd just come down from Prince Rupert, having done the trip a few times already. He spoke of contempt for the South America authorities, and rattled on about kayaking was all he had in life. He had no idea where he was going from that point, or what he wanted to do. he refused my offer of lunch and a beer. He was as skinny as a stick. I unloaded, got the car (which I had forgotten to lock), and headed to IR land for another bare-bum dip in the sea. I spent the day with Odyssey Kayaking, helping to pick up kayaks and deliver them, ferrying customers and explaining to Pat about kayak fleet maintenance using polyurethane paint. We got along famously, and he may hire me in 2002 to help guide British students coming out to partake in their Duke of (something) awards. I also stopped in at the competitors, North Island Kayak Rental and Tours. For the first time, they were hospitable to me. I left Port hardy reluctantly, late in the evening under a full moon and a satisfying week out. --------------- PW Postscript On the drive home, I thought long and hard about sea kayaking and safety. I really don't know what is safe and acceptable anymore. I've been at it for a while now, and could care less what people think of me - ultimately, I do what I want in the end, for that is part of the attraction of sea kayaking. My crossings were not difficult, for me. Short, but admittedly in an area prone to sudden changes and given great respect by the locals at all times of the year. Crossings like these in a 35 knot SE gale were within my comfort zone as I found out in 1999 (tide situation aside, and when in proper physical condition). I did make an attempt this trip to "keep it real", and to keep well within thresholds, and work with the elements, especially tidal consideration. Perhaps that encapsulates what is "safe". I definitely felt much safer on my own. Nothing was left to chance. No stone was left unturned in planning each move, if it was one I was going to commit to and stick to. And by playing the red flag game, one is forced to think things through. If we had done that on our April crossing, we surely would have come up with 20 red flags, easily. As far as battling head winds on my summer trip above, that is sometimes unavoidable. It depends how much effort you want to put into it. And I did listen to that still, small voice from within. Usually, we can give ourselves the best advice, if we truly listen. Timo Noko's web site is: < http://www.kolumbus.fi/timo.noko/> BC'in Ya Doug Lloyd (whose away for the next week or two and is sorry for long post) *************************************************************************** PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - All postings copyright the author and not to be reproduced/forwarded outside PaddleWise without author's permission Submissions: PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net Subscriptions: PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net Website: http://www.paddlewise.net/ ***************************************************************************Received on Fri Aug 18 2000 - 00:27:18 PDT
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.4.0 : Thu Aug 21 2025 - 16:30:30 PDT