Gatherings of family in adventure settings tend to take on a theme and there can be no doubt that this year’s theme was “fishing.” Between Port Hardy and Bella Bella lays the anglers mecca known as Rivers Inlet. Our son, Gavin, in the last two years has developed something of a fishing fixation. The fact that our passage would be through such hallowed ground made fishing a central element of our journey.
As a young man the skipper once spent idyllic summer days at a friend’s cabin in the Sunshine Coast. There on the wall was an amusing framed ode to fishing that he still remembers.
Behold the Fisherman
He riseth up early in the morning
And disturbeth the whole household
Mighty are his preparations
He goeth forth full of hope
And when the day is far spent
He returneth home smelling of strong drink
And the Truth is not in him
Our own mighty preparations had begun back in Vancouver where various gear additions and supplies had been put aboard. Sailboats are not the best platform for salmon fishing but we had done our best to fit a downrigger, two rod holders and a significant assortment of tackle. Frozen anchovies thawed in a brine bath are the best bait and Gavin had put three trays of them in our boat freezer. We departed Port Hardy with dreams of Tyee dancing in our heads.
The previous gale had blown itself out and the crossing of Queen Charlotte Strait was uneventful. Winds were on the beam with a one meter swell; these were gentle initial conditions for the un-hardened stomachs of our new crew. Surprisingly, when we arrived at our in anchorage at Skull Cove we still had a couple of bars cell coverage, so we remained connected to the grid.
Cape Caution can be a hairy place indeed, but conditions on the next day’s early morning passage were pretty good, all in all. Gavin has had little exposure to open ocean weather and was quite impressed with the 2-meter ground swell. We passed the Cape close to the slack and arrived at Millbrook Cove before lunch. A dinghy fishing expedition yielded a few small rock fish for the boys that were returned to the sea. At this lovely and protected anchorage we were disconnected to the grid at last.
The next day would bring us into Rivers Inlet and along the way we encountered what we later figured out must have been a Minke whale. It was feeding close to shore and showed up suddenly just feet away from our bow and then swam directly under the boat. The sighting being entirely unexpected, oohs,awes, and what the fucks ensued.
Passing Cranston point at the entry to Rivers Inlet it was time to get lines out. Unfortunately, because the 2-meter swell was still bouncing and knocking us around, conditions were not so great. Also it was late in the day. But three bites on the lines gave us hope for the next day.
Our anchorage that night was in a small finger of Big Fry Pan Bay, known as “Don’s 10-Foot Hole.” Access is through the narrowest channel imaginable and the tiny cove on the other side is surely the teensiest place that Anduril has ever thought to drop a hook. Protection is 360 degrees but if the anchor were to drag more than a short line toss all would be lost. That night the wind was breathless and the skipper was glad for it.
A fisherman denied can be a persistent animal. Gavin insisted on an early morning rise and just past the dawn we were out and away. Returning to Cranston Point and “The Wall” the swell had at last subsided. The other boats also fishing there gave hopes of success that were soon rewarded as Gavin landed a respectable 26” Chinook. Gavin whooped and hollered like a crazed banshee. With the proof of his prowess chilling in the freezer, the rest of the crew were permitted to journey on to Dawson’s Landing.
Dawson’s, would at the best of times have a general feeling of remoteness, but on our arrival it immediately felt like we had unexpectedly entered a two-year-ago time vortex. No one was at the docks. The store had a “Closed Today” sign on the door and another sign that said “One person in the store at a time. Masks mandatory. No Exceptions.” But there was a proprietress inside who saw us outside and came to the door and told us that if we had masks we could come inside. Hmm. We searched for masks in purses, briefcases, drawers and everywhere else on the boat. Success! One at a time we pursued our desires inside the store, which was surprisingly well stocked. But a dozen beer cost $43! It not being the dock of our imagination, the decision to move onward was unanimous.
Another fabulous anchorage of solitude awaited us that night in Pierce Bay. All the crew, excepting the skipper, jumped in for a chilly dip in the water. This was followed by an excellent and long-awaited dinner-time salmon feast. The night fell in anticipation of more fishing and Gavin set his alarms for 0530. Nearby Penrose Island was marked in a guide pamphlet as another good fishing spot and while Alice and Adrian snoozed, Gavin and Greg got the boat underway and made tracks. Lines were in the water by 0630 and chinook success came quickly. Greg caught a 28 incher and Adrian was next with a 26. It was a joyful morning accompanied by more whoops, hollers and the blood and guts of fish butchering in the cockpit. Alice wielded a wash bucket to make the mess go away.
Arriving a few hours later at Fitz Hugh Sound we anchored at Kwakume Inlet, realizing too late that we had failed to reel in our “last hope” fishing line, which promptly wrapped the prop while we were anchoring. Grrr. Someone would have to go over the side and untangle the mess. Gavin volunteered and the skipper was glad for it because swimming in cold water makes his balls shrivel like walnuts.
Not all of us being so keen a fisherman as Gavin, it was time to satisfy the family historian (Adrian’s) desires. The abandoned town of Namu proved to be a mecca for 1980-90 archaeology. Decaying buildings there have been repeatedly looted since the cannery closed in 1970 and after the site closed down for good in 1990. We were probably not supposed to be exploring among the increasingly dilapidated and dangerous structures, but it was both impressive and depressing to see the extensive wrack and ruin of the failed enterprise left behind.
Departing Namu, a very nice downwind sail brought us to Codville Lagoon, which is now designated as a marine park. Along the way there was a humpback whale sighting and also a few sea otters, lazing the day away resting in the water on their backs, foot fins up. An interesting couple from Alaska were anchored at Codville and approached us in their dinghy for a chat. They and their friendly dog came aboard and joined us for our traditional “welcome to a new anchorage” drink. In the morning we hiked up the trail to Sagar Lake and had a fresh water swim before returning to the boat to complete the last leg of the trip to Bella Bella.
Savouring our final hours off the grid, we stopped for lunch at Fancy Cove before carrying on and enjoying a terrific sail in 16 knots, handily showing a nearby 45 foot sailboat how it is supposed to be done.
During the final approach to Shearwater/Bella-Bella it did not escape Gavin’s notice that there were fishing boats trolling along the shoreline. That night during dinner at the pub, a plan was hatched to arise early and test our luck before our afternoon flight home. Just after 0500, we were away the next morning. The harbour master, seeing us leave at so early an hour assumed we were scofflaw sailors skipping our dock bill and sent us a strongly worded email. Silly man, he was just observing fishermen in their morning play. And did we ever play! In one hour, four excellent Chinook were landed. There were no other boats nearby, so all of our whoops and hollers went unheard. And happy ended our family trip.
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