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(click on any small piture to make it big)
What a day we had on Hecate Strait yesterday. It was a day filled with sunshine and amazing whale sightings as we witnessed them frolicking along the East Coast of the Queen Charlottes. It was a day of joy and abandonment as not a care did we have until we left Hecate Strait and headed around the corner into Houstan Stewart Channel to Rose Harbor. It was like we entered another world. The weather changed instantly. It suddenly took a turn, no more sun and no whales nor dolphin playing off the bow but dark worrisome clouds, fog and mist lay ahead. It made our approach to our final destination on our journey with Fran and Joe, seem so remote and mysterious, almost dangerous. It was the destination that we had worked so hard to get to the last several weeks and months, and finally, we were here and it wasn’t welcoming but eerie. It wasn’t bright and sunny and full of care free feelings, but the sky and atmosphere appeared powerful and dramatic and awe inspiring. Its dark misty appearance reminded us of its remoteness and powerful seas just around the corner. There was nothing to take for granted here. We were nearing what used to be the home of the most powerful and feared Indians along the whole Pacific Northwest Coast, the Red Cod People. It only makes sense that these powerful people should select such a difficult and remote place to live and only they could conquer it. It was easy coming in to
Rose Harbor though as the marker was clearly visible just in front of the
barrier wall of thick fog and what darkness lies beyond, over
unpredictable seas of the Pacific Ocean and the remote and isolated
Anthony Island, home of the Ninstints. The fog and dark skies veiled
the turbulent seas and what was beyond, the abandoned home and ghosts of
the masterful and powerful Raven and Eagle clan, master sea men and
warriors, talented carvers, and keepers of stories.
The marker was like a welcome sign pointing us to a safe haven before our next journey, pointing us to a secure mooring that we could safely tie our vessel to. For the first time in a week, we see a permanent settlement, small though, only three cottages, but people who actually live in this magical remote and isolated landscape and call it their home. We were lucky as two of the three moorings were free. We would be able to secure the boat to a park mooring and feel free to leave the boat to visit the Ninstints the next day. It was like a welcome sign, come in and be safe and be respectful of your next journey into our wonderful land. We came around Annette
Island and turned slowly and headed gently in towards the second marker of
Ellen Island and into Rose Harbor. There was a sailing vessel on one of
the three mooring buoys. We headed slowly past it, a strange looking
sailboat, oddly painted in fluorescent paint, and a head popped out,
bearded and wild, he would be our first companion at an anchorage in a
week.
Joe and Larry threaded a
line through the ring on top of the huge mooring and secured it safely to
the cleat on the bow. I could see the relief on Larry’s face, as we made
it to our destination on time for Joe and Fran to catch their float plan
back. He accomplished his task. He took us to all the important sights
along the way to get us to this point. He coordinated our travels with
the good fortune of good weather and found no problems, and now, we had
the boat secure to a mooring and he could finally relax and enjoy this
next adventure with us, worry free. This destination marked a significant point in our journey. We had safely traversed the length of the island. Larry had completed his float plan in waters and anchorages that in my mind were at first a bit intimidating but now looking back on everything, all went according to plan with no glitches. We have had unseasonably and amazingly perfect weather with flat calm waters. The whole journey has been such a gift for all of us. As we finally got settled we took a look around. We were anxious to see the only privately owned land on the Queen Charlotte Islands south of Sandspit. It used to be a thriving whaling station in the first half of the 20th century. Now it is privately owned by 14 shareholders, some of which have never laid eyes or feet on this precious land. There are three simple homes, or I should say, cottages here now. They are owned by people who offer services to people like us, coming the distance. OLD SQUAW We immediately hailed
“Old Squaw” on Channel 6. She is said to be a fabulous cook and will cook
dinner for you made with a fresh catch of the day, which could be
Dungeness crab or salmon, and supplemented with whatever organic
vegetables that she grows in her garden, nothing would be imported. John
Alexander, who we’ve mentioned before and who have given us much
information about cruising up here, told us about her and how to call her
on the radio. She’s a displaced New Yorker who came here in the seventies
and never went back. Many wonder how someone from the city of New York
could settle here, in the middle of “nowhere” but she is said to answer
that she meets more interesting people that come here than she ever met in
NYC. She answered us back right away and apologized saying she couldn’t
accommodate us today for dinner as she already had guests but could
tomorrow. We told her tomorrow would be just fine.
We also asked about hiring someone to take us to see the Ninstints. She said Gotz is the man but he is out now touring with people. She said he will be back this evening and we can talk to him ourselves then and make the arrangements. Gotz also has a small guest house in back that he rents out. The third house in Rose Harbor rents kayaks to those that fly in by float plane I think. These are unique people that make their way here in a very remote place. Everyone that comes here knows of them and they are an integral part of your visit here as it’s very difficult to go see the Ninstints without them. They become an integral part of your experience up here. Joe and Fran took the dinghy out and explored the surrounding area on their own. I got in the kayak and took Ziggy for a ride as we explored the nearby rocky islets in Rose Harbor. The islets were surrounded by such thick kelp beds that it was hard to paddle to shore. Once near the shore, I put the bow of the kayak to an edge of one of the islets and let Zig jump ashore. On firm ground Zig had a great time following me in the kayak, racing to keep up as he went up and down climbing the rocky edges, and scrambling through the forest brush, but each time he disappeared he surface again and sometimes the rocks were slippery and he would slide into a little tidal pool. He was having a ball. It was the first time in several days that he was able to have some real fun. During our stay, we had a curious neighborhood harbor seal that seemed to enjoy poking around watching us. It kept Ziggy occupied trying to keep his eye on him and the seal vice versa. Late afternoon we all took the dinghy in to take a walk along the shore near the cottages. We found a wonderful forest path. It was like a wonderland. It was so green and lush, and covered in amazingly thick moss with little holes and doorways under fallen trees and branches. You could easily imagine them to be houses of elves and fairies. It was such a rich environment explosive for the creative mind. The noises of the outside were muffled by the thick absorbent moss covering. Fungus and strange plants grew everywhere. It’s an environment I have never experienced, breathtaking, soft, cool, damp, quiet, muffled and rich in nutrients of rotting trees, nurse trees, their decay providing rich nutrient rich soil and matter adding life and food back to the forest. It was a wonderland.
We walked along the shore
heading over near the old whaling station and there we found rusting
machinery and debris everywhere from the old whaling operation. There
were old iron bolts and gears, and other rotted parts, the last rusting
remnants of days gone by but still a sad reminder of the 10,000 (some
places I read 30,000) local whales, caught and killed and rendered here in
the still existing but rusting boilers and forge. It’s a gruesome
reminder the old days and thankfully long gone by. We thought we might
find some remnants of whale bone but Gotz, the local guide, told us later
that even the whale bone was ground down and sold for the use of
fertilizer.
As the day went on the skies cleared and we had another perfect afternoon of good weather. We had a nice BBQ on the boat and a fierce game of scrabble before retiring that evening hoping to sleep even though the excitement of going to see the Ninstints the next day made it very difficult for me. The next day was not the
clear, sunny days that we experienced this last week. I was a bit
disappointed knowing that a dark overcast day would not be conducive to
some great pictures at Ninstints, the historic Haida site. In fact, it
probably meant we would have a wet and somewhat unpredictable rough ride
out to the island on the Gotz’s fire red zodiac.
Gotz who would be taking us to see the Ninstint’s on his zodiac said he could only take us between 4-7:30 PM as he had a couple flying in by float plane that he had made previous arrangements to see the village and had to fly back by a certain time. Since you don’t really have any other options here, so settle in to what will be, according to Gotz. Since it was such a crummy rainy day, and now finding out we would be getting back so late, we decided to cancel the dinner with Susan “Old Squaw” if she hadn’t already made significant food preparations for us. She understood completely and said it would be no problem. Motoring to shore in the rain and cold, that night to have dinner, and leaving Ziggy so long, just didn’t sound as good as coming back to the boat and having a nice quiet comfortable dinner “at home”. We just didn’t want to leave Ziggy locked in the dog cage on the boat for 6 hours. It may have been a truly unique experience that we missed but sometimes you just have to do what you feel comfortable with and as I always say, you have to leave something to come back for.
Gotz told us later we missed out on the best meal we’ll ever have, and said he had caught fresh Dungeness crab for the meal. Mmmm, fresh Queen Charlotte’s Dungeness crab sounds so good. Gotz said he plays his guitar music during dinner. It does sound interesting doesn’t it? THE MOMENT WE HAVE BEEN ANTICIPATING! Around 4:00 PM, as promised, Gotz came by in his big red zodiac to pick us up. First he handed over to us (4) bright red/orange survival suits to put on (having figured out our sizes the day before by looking at us). We pulled the overall like suits on and stepped into our big rubber boots, cameras in tow, and Haida Gwaii booklets and entry tags, and stepped aboard Gotz’s chariot of fire as I think of it. Gotz is an interesting
character, very unique, unlike anyone we have ever met. He has long
curly, frizzy grey hair but a 50ish youngish face, northern European
complexion (from Germany) and intense glacier blue eyes. His beard and
long hair was “artfully” styled into three pony tails, two on each side of
his head that were mostly held together by twisting and the center tail
was really his beard which he pulled together and secured creatively with
4 bead like decorations. One bead was a faceted blue glass trading bead,
the biggest I’d ever seen (which he said he found one day on the shores of
Ninstints), another was whale bone, another was a carved wooden tube
painted by a Haida and another was a typical small red trading bead. He
had dark sunglasses when he road his zodiac “chariot” that had a strange
black leather nose cover which made him look a little like the devil. He
wore a wide brimmed Tilly hat secured by a draw string under his chin
while underway. His complexion was red and fiery.
We all climbed aboard this stranger’s chariot, two of us were to sit on the back bench, one each side of Gotz and the other two were to sit on the inner tube sides of the Zodiac, near the back of the boat and only had a mere nylon rope attached to top of the inner tube to hold on to and, well, whatever else you could find to grasp with the other free hand. There was a grab bar nearby his helm station. Fran and I hopped in first and sat on the small bench in the back and settled down one on each side of Gotz and Larry and Joe followed sitting one on each side of the inner tube part of the Zodiac. We must have been quite a sight, in our red outfits, on this red chariot with the strange looking devil like captain. I expected any minute that he would pull out his black leather whip and crack it in the stormy black sky, and we would gallop off across the water and up into the dark stormy sky, but in reality Gotz took off with a nice smooth speed out of the harbor, getting us quickly and gently up on plane. We soon discovered that
his engines, as I suspected, had quite a bit of power and speed as he just
continually press the pedal to the metal. We soon all pulled the hoods of
our survival suits up over our heads seeing that this was going to be a
windy and possibly a wet ride as we made our turn out of the protected
anchorage of Rose Harbor and headed out into the Pacific Coast.
(You may be wondering why we had hired Gotz to take us to the Ninstints rather than us anchoring out there and coming in ourselves. Well, it’s simple, the Indian site is on the West Side of the Queen Charlottes, directly exposed to the Pacific Ocean. It is almost on the most southern point of the Queen Charlottes, near Cape St. James which is directly SSE of us about 11 miles. Cape St. James is noted for having some of the most treacherous waters in the world and it’s not uncommon to experience some of the strongest winds that you’ll ever experience along the Queen Charlottes and perhaps along the long stretch of Coast from Alaska to Vancouver Island. We’ve also heard that Gray Island, where the Indian site is, does not have a protected anchorage and if you still try to go there, the approach is narrow, rocky and shallow and good at best only as a temporary anchorage in the most perfect of weather and at the precise timing of the tide. It is not to say that others like us have not anchored out there and probably with no problems but with Gotz as our guide why should we try? So, that is why it was a simple decision for us to decide to hire Gotz to take us. We heard he is experienced in these waters and is very knowledgeable of the site and its history, but I must say, it was all here say, and we really didn’t know this person and yet strangely we were putting all our trust in him to take us to this remote and unpredictable place, over waters that possibly were very dangerous. All the while though it was very nice to know that Knotty Dog was safely tied to a park mooring and Larry could relax and not worry about it, and that was the most important thing. ) As we headed west leaving Rose Harbor and coming out south into Houston Stewart Channel, the seas and winds brewed up quickly. The conditions were completely different from our protection anchorage of Rose Harbor. The seas didn’t deter Gotz one bit and I actually think he liked the thrill of taking us on what was quickly becoming a wild trip.
No where else would you put so much trust into a stranger. It was strange letting this man take us on this wild dangerous ride, but no second thoughts now, we were committed and there was no turning back. The seas were dark, unfriendly and terrifying and the islands ahead in the far distance were black and grey, completely treeless, with waves crashing and welling up the sides of them. I can’t imagine the Haida living out here in this boil of a sea, and harsh unfriendly landscape. Imagine, paddling through these waves in an open canoe, without the power of two Honda 200hp engines. I held my one arm around Larry’s shoulder thinking he must be terrified as he doesn’t swim and being only inches away from being swallowed up by these turbulent seas guided only through them by what seemed to be this mad man.
Finally coming from beneath the devils black leather mask emanated a voice. It was a voice from this strange looking creature in the red suit. It was a small high pitched voice with a strange sharp accent, almost sounding Swedish. He took the dark glasses off for a moment and his piercing blue eyes appeared again. His small quiet voice, barely audible over the ocean’s roar, said “If we are lucky, we will see some Puffins. Are you interested?”
He skillfully and I would
say bravely but I don’t think he feel any fear, drives his red chariot up
to the stark, cold and very unfriendly walls of this black mass of an
island and there on a small outcropping he points to what was a small
cluster of puffins. To the untrained eye, you would never have seen them,
but this amazing person, takes us through this fiery sea and rewards us
with the most gentle of sights.
We saw maybe four or five puffins and then on another ledge a couple that immediately flew away when they saw these strange aliens arriving in red suits. It was the most amazing thing. I stared at this less than a handful of puffins and wondered at what a remote and unfriendly landscape they prefer to live. How special they are and how difficult to see and find them. I couldn’t help but think of all those puffin beaks, 100s of them that I have seen so frequently in museums, used by the Haida and other Indian people, sewn to their clothing for costume decoration. I wondered at these few little harmless creatures hovering here on this most unwelcome of places, just a few, on the edge of extinction and how many were caught and killed for mere decoration left only to be seen in some dusty museum case. We also saw a baby cormorant that was too young to fly yet and poor thing was so scared at the sight of us that he regurgitated his dinner all over the sliver of a ledge that he lived on. He hovered and shook helplessly terrified at the sight of us. His parents flew off immediately leaving him to shiver in fear on his own. I didn’t like doing that to the poor thing and I wished that Gotz would move away and not get so close.
Once
inside the protection of the islets of Anthony Island it was like we
entered a mystical beautiful place. It was like an oriental painting had
come to life. We were protected again from the violence of the
surrounding ocean, and slowly passed wind and sea shaped rocks with edgy
trees, and a grey mist covered landscape, that has withstood conditions
that we can only imagine and fear, storms beyond imagination.
As we approached Anthony island we came through between several rocky outcroppings that mysteriously began to wake up and come alive, and what we thought were rock formations were resting seals and stellar sea lions awakened by the sound of Gotz's idling motors. They are somewhat of a lazy looking bunch as they stretched and turned their necks to look around eyed at us. The smell was strong from these creatures.
We hovered in the sea,
rolling up and down, listening and watching this secluded population of
mammals, and them watching and talking to us. It was a strange exchange
of glances at each other. As Gotz came up again precariously close, some
dove off into the rough sea only to come up and surface later, still
staring at us and wondering about us. Some of the bigger males were more
bold and showed their harem how close they would come to this strange red
chariot much different than the flying canoes that showed their faces
three centuries ago. They would follow us a bit and pop up their shinny
bald heads, and big bulging eyes, and briny stiff whiskers, and their
nostrils flared as they sprayed out a bit of sea spray at us and then they
would turn and leave, having the last say, a honking, a last bark, surely
the harem would know they scared us off as we turned and headed to
Ninstints now. It was truly a marvelous experience and in those rough
seas that only someone like Gotz could handle we experienced this
wonderful display.
Now though it was time to get serious and see what we came for, what we have been journeying for these many weeks now. Now the waters become eerily calmer and the sounds were quiet, no more crashing of waves, and screaming of birds and barking of sea lions. Gotz slows his powerful engines to a quiet idle as we respectfully come in without a wake. It was night and day from the wild unruly seas just breaths away and now we enter a place that feels heavenly and spiritual and certainly at least serene in the contrast to the journey crossed to get here. The few islands that
cluster around the main island, Anthony Islands, are magnificent in their
beauty and aurora. They are like a perfectly manicured environment, in
pristine harmony and beauty. I was in awe at the beauty on all sides of
us as we entered the strange calm shelter of Ninstints. Finally we are
here as Gotz edges us up softly to the shore where we jump off. We see a
new side of Gotz, gentle, quiet and respectful as he enters this world.
He takes his Zodiac, his chariot, and ties it up off a clothesline type
tie up so that he can retrieve it when the tide changes and comes back
through the forest to take us on our tour.
We have by now climbed out of the survival suits and stowed them in the big plastic storage bins that Gotz has brought. He shoves them under the protection of some nearby tree limbs. We leave the shore and follow Gotz in through the branches of the forest and begin our journey to discover this wild place. We find a well-made raised wooden planked path that beautifully meanderers through the forest. It blends in with the landscape as it has turned a pale shade of green to match the forest, as the thin layer of moss begins to take it over like everything else in the forest. The trees we walk through, he explains, are all new growth, within the last 100 years, as it was clear cut by the Haida to make their buildings and poles. They are hugely tall and we feel small and humble in their presence. It’s amazing and warming to see that within a hundred years a forest can regenerate itself so beautifully, not as mature as it surely was but I having no idea what that would be like, can certainly just appreciate the beauty of this place in its present state.
We also see interesting
land formations where the land is separated like shelves and wedges that
have forced their way up. The rock formations looked as if someone cut
the rock like slicing a piece of cake and removed a sliver to make a path
for us but no it is a natural path not man made. After walking perhaps 1/8 of a mile through this wonderful wonderland we come to another shoreline where the watchman’s house is. We have literally walked across the island. We sign in with the watchman and present all the proper credentials. The Haida watchman is a striking looking woman, long grey hair and medium dark skin, round face, beautiful bone structure and a friendly smile. The Red Cod People that used to live here were tall, known to be handsome people and tall, the tallest on the Coast, more than 2 meters.
Gotz takes us farther along and we see the breathtaking sight of a series of wondrous totems, amazingly huge in scale and in remarkably still good shape, grouped together, images still visible and identifiable to photos and drawings from over a century ago. They appear like sentinels watching over the most perfectly protected small beach and cove once laden with huge fierce warring canoes. Since this area has been
declared a UNESCO World Heritage Sight it is very well protected now from
vandalism and theft and there are only certain areas you can walk all
clearly marked by rows of clam shells along the edges, clearly defining
the areas we are allowed on. The immense size of the poles creates a
presence that can only be respected and a wonderment of imagining what
this must have been like when the Red Cod People lived here, a warring
society respected and feared amongst all the first native nations and even
among the white men that lost many lives as they came through in the
flying canoes. There is a recorded history to this place, not a happy one but it comes to mind clearly when in the presence of the few remnants left of this great society. Gotz was very good at describing the carvings and their meanings and also giving us a very different view of things rather than just what you find in books on the subject. To look at this site, what remains of over a 100 years of steadfast decay, but still there remains a power and presence to it. You wonder at what this culture was like at its fullest and most powerful. We only have decaying images, and old photographs and drawings to shed a light on their stories and legends that were passed down verbally as their culture was not of a written kind but a verbal, symbolic kind with hidden meanings and legends disguised in their totems. We wonder what they would have been like today without the influence of the Europeans. Maybe their culture would still be living and populated not devastated by small pox and other diseases brought in by the foreigners. Maybe the sea otter would still be plentiful, and maybe these wonderful totems and their artistic culture would be complete for all to see, and the stories and legends not forgotten. There is renewed hope though as now there is a re-emergence of their culture, a new admiration, and pride for these people. They have overcome the grief and shame that the foreigner made them feel about their “paganistic icons”. Slowly we see the emergence of their innate talents. It’s not gone as they are beginning to recapture a bit of what many thought was permanently lost, and that’s the new generation working with the old, desperately trying to save their stories, their language and their history.
The ride back was calmer,
our moods were quieter and more somber, we were all thinking of what we
had seen and the seas too were calmer as if they too were in awe. The
winds and currents had died down and the tide had turned and gave us a
smooth ride back to contemplate this amazing cultural site, the wild
forces of nature and the wild life that seems to live on the edge of the
world. We missed out on Old Squaw’s dinner but had a nice warm comfortable meal instead in the warmth and comfort of Knotty Dog with Fran and Joe. We cooked the last of our precious fresh Queen Charlotte Salmon on cedar planks over the BBQ. What more could you ask for in a day in paradise?
TOTEMS at
Other Photos at
Artist drawings & paintings are courtesy of:
http://www.civilization.ca/aborig/nwca/nwca01e.html
Fran and Joe are ready to go as their journey has come to an end. The float plane that we arranged to pick them up a week ago is due in a few minutes, 9:00 AM to be precise. Will the bush pilot arrive exactly on time in this remote place that seems to have forgotten time and appointments that our civilized lives structure ourselves around? We’re in a place where we forget the day and month, where the only thing that matters is when the sun comes up and goes down, the wind directions, tides and currents, sightings of rare and familiar birds, and the peek of a seal, whale or dolphin breaking the water’s surface, or an eagle soaring above, and even the sound of a bear turning over a boulder at low tide looking for food. That’s what is important here and so much more. It’s a place where the only thing you do is absorb the beauty, drinking it in as if we had been parched our whole lives. CLINGING TO CIVILIZED WAYS Still though, clinging to
our old civilized ways, I make Larry call on the satellite phone to
confirm that the plane is in fact on it’s way and will be here. It almost
seems amazing that after our journey to this wonderful remote archipelago,
that here in the wilderness, far from people, fuel, food, and potable
water, that a plane would show so promptly for an appointment.
Appointments here seem surreal and foreign. But sure enough as the long
hand on our watch approaches the nine, we hear in the distant skies, the
low hum of the motor of a float plane. He is so brave this bush pilot,
our fears about the fog and mist deterring his journey, squashed in an
instant as we see him gracefully come out of the low lying clouds and
swoop the small harbor to make get a bird’s eye view before he swings
around again and like a experienced water bird that he is, softly skids
across the grey dark water, breaking the glassy dull calm of it, leaving a
gentle wake and a water formed path to our boat. He motors around the
boat. We wave at him and by sign language understand that we are to
dinghy out to him as he turns his engine temporarily off and floats slowly
to a stop nearby.
We hug each other, this time with more passion and meaning, as we all have some new bond having experienced the beauty and amazement of this place. It’s something few people have the opportunity to experience and enjoy and it will be even fewer people in the future as these temporary monuments are only here as long as the elements keep them, their memories fading away only to be reminded by photographs, oral legends and the sketches of them. It’s a bond we will share always. Larry drives the dinghy
over to the small float plane and Zig and I watch from the cockpit of
Knotty Dog as Joe and Fran hand the pilot their few bags and climb aboard
the pontoons of his plane.
There’s no wasting time though, as the pilot was precisely on time and just as precisely wants to keep his schedule and take off on time. So in a brief moment Fran and Joe were swept up into the clouds cuddling the harbor and in a surreal instant completely gone. HEADING BACK NORTH We didn’t waste any time either as Larry was anxious to get started, to get farther north and into an anchorage for the night. He said the weather looks settled for the next few days so let’s take advantage of it to get north and in protected waters. We start engines up and get the dinghy back up into its cradle on top of the boat and almost as quickly as the bush pilot, we headed out. We’re in deep water in the harbor but we clunk into something big and hard on the bottom. It’s not charted and we both look wide eyed at each other. What could it be? We both check the sounder but have no idea what it was as we had 50 feet and more below us. Larry checks around but all is OK so we continue on.
We look back, one last glance, and see Gotz on shore outfitting two people in red survival gear. He’s taking two guests back to Queen Charlotte City today on his wild chariot, that 20 foot open Zodiac which runs about 40 – 50 miles per hour on plane. That’s a distance today of probably 90-100 miles! He had a few extra fuel tanks aboard strapped in and will probably stop at the Hot Springs for a break and then go through the narrows to stay out of Hecate Strait, but no, maybe not, knowing Gotz, our guess is, if the Hecate Strait the slight bit calm, he’ll shoot straight up if he can. We watch as he speeds by with his new companions for today and disappears ahead into the distant mist. We cruise along past majestic scenery. White seagulls race past and in front of us, their white images reflecting off the amazing uncommon glassy waters of Hecate Strait today. We see shearwaters fluttering across the water scurrying faraway from us. The clouds are hugging the tops of the island’s mountains but patches of sun are peaking through and the beaches are lined with rocky outcroppings and white midden beaches piled high with silver weathered logs. It’s truly heaven on earth, a mysterious land full of beauty. We make a detour and peak into Ikeda Inlet as we head north. It looks like a nice anchorage with high mountain peaks on each side and a nice glimpse at anchor of the conditions of Hecate Strait, though Larry says you wouldn’t be able to see enough to tell how it really was. We passed Collision Bay and though the name doesn’t sound welcoming, it looked beautiful with many long beaches and a nice protected area in the back to anchor. I think to myself that you could spend hours beach combing there. We pass many groupings of water birds on Hecate Strait many more than I’ve seen other places. The water today is amazingly calm on Hecate. I’m feeling a lot more at ease with the Queen Charlottes as we head back north across waters we have already traversed. We turn into Juan Perez Sound and the winds and seas pick up much like they did two days ago when we left the Sound heading south. The winds were 25 knots, small white caps and waves, nothing that caused us problems. ECHO HARBOR AND THE SAME CHARACTERS, WITH THE SAME HABITS We decided to go back to Echo Harbor as we liked it so much before and thought we might have a chance to see the bears again and more. It is such a beautiful setting. So again we spent a quiet night there all to ourselves and yes, the bears were there, and the same eagles, and the same playful river otters, and same hungry batch of oyster catchers and murrelets. It’s a neighborhood, a habitat and pretty much the same business goes on day after day, week after week with the same cast of characters. All their predictable movements timed to the incoming and outgoing tides and the dawn and dusk.
We left Echo Harbor early
in the morning and arrived at Sandspit in the afternoon. Kathy the wharf
monger gave us pretty much the same difficult slip, way inside right next
to the fish cleaning station but heck we had great power there and other
spots didn’t so what did it matter? Now the next few days we will spend exploring the north part of the islands by car. We had a reservation for a rental car for the next morning, made two weeks ago, so we were still doing great on our schedule. We’re looking forward to seeing the northern part of Queen Charlotte Islands, Graham Island and the Westside. |
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We
walked back along the shoreline and across the little stream emptying into
the harbor and found some interesting shells, some like scallop shells,
many different sizes of clam shell and spiral shells. It was amazing to
see so many in one place. 
The
skies were dark and filled with rain clouds and the waves were wild, steep
and choppy. The waves varied in size I’d say from 4 feet to 6 feet and
the wind was blowing a good 20-25 knots. It was like taking a wild ride
with the devil on his fiery red chariot. We felt like we were riding at
the speed of light, bouncing and riding and sometimes flying over the
waves. We all held on for dear life and I must truly say it was
thrilling. At one point I looked up at him and thought what a sight this
strange person was, somewhat like Black Beard himself reincarnated, come
back form the dead with his wild flowing black turned to gray bearded
tails flying behind him in the wind, his wildly brilliant red survival
suit against the dark blackness of the sky a silhouette never to forget
and those scary black glasses and black leather nose patch. It felt like
the devil himself was taking us on a wild ride to purgatory. I began to
laugh uncontrollably out loud at the thought of this crazy adventure we
were on, maybe it was laughter of excitement or fear, not sure which, but
I was thoroughly enjoying it’s wildness. It was an amazing wild ride,
and all of us, gripping onto what we could find to save ourselves, knowing
all too well that one big dip or flip and we would be gone swallowed up in
this wild sea but each of strangely enjoying the adventure of it all. 
Finally,
after what seemed like an endless roller coaster ride and at times air
lifting, Gotz headed in behind the shelter of the most unfriendly sheer
rock island I’d ever seen. It projected up from the boil of the sea like
a shear, wet black cliff. The water swelled up and down the side of it as
we momentarily rested from our turbulent ride and knowing we still were
only part way to the island of the Red Cod People. We stared at the black
rock cliffs, huge monolithic masses of rock, divided only by the knife
edged divides between them, created by some prehistoric upheaval. There
was not a tree or bush on these edgy geometric knobs of stone that stuck
up out of this turbulent mess. He slowed his mad throttle of his wild
chariot down and edged us up in close to the rocky cliffs and there
amazingly the waters had strong up and down swells, but the waters were
calm compared to what was only a few feet away just outside the shelter of
these rocks. Gotz knew the small patch of protected space a shelter of
temporary protection on this desolate place giving us a moment’s reprieve
from the turbulence. It was like a being at war, following the rifleman
as we raced from rock to rock, finding protection from fire, knowing the
fox holes, and barriers to hide behind, while we took a big gulp of breath
before we headed on through the gun fire to our next protected patch. 
I
almost jumped out of my seat. That has been a hope, dream and goal of
mine for years now and I must say we have tried many times in our boat to
see them, always unsuccessful. Once we tried in some huge swells off the
coast near Sitka, Alaska and then another time on the East Coast, in
Maine, off the rocky shore of some outer remote islands of Maine. And,
now here we are today with no previous thoughts of seeing anything but the
Indian site, we are going to see puffins with this wild man from Borneo.
After this brief and
amazing moment, a greatly rewarded glance at puffins and a much needed
reprieve from the fierce seas, we headed out into it again and finally
banged our way to the southern side of Anthony Island and past its cluster
of small islands directly exposed to the Pacific. 
There
in his loneliness stood the most magnificent creature I’ve ever seen. He
was a huge Stellar Sea Lion. He was alone, ostracized from the rest. He
was now, newly discarded from the pack as another bull has taken his
place. Though pushed out he still stood stoic and proud. He cried out
though in his loneliness, telling us his story, now alone to face the seas
by himself. Gotz said he’s a retired bull now as he has lost his grand
harem to the younger sea lions. 
Gotz
still not finished yet with this magnificent side tour took us to the
other outer islets of Anthony Islands more to the NW. It was even more
wild and rocky and unfriendly, as the waves swelled up over the rocky
plateaus of another rocky outcropping it was there that he showed us more
stellar sea lions than we ever could imagine. Here this curious man, with
many faces, a caretaker and explorer and guide of this wild landscape,
shares his secret places, these hidden nooks and crannies, showing us his
discoveries and knowledge of this 
Once
checked in, Gotz leads us through yet another wonderful trail through the
forest and past hidden openings to natural caves where human bones have
been found, the caves believed to be natural crypts for those that didn’t
warrant mortuary poles. We walked among cliffs, dwarfed on each side, a
meandering path until suddenly we reached an opening in the forest where
we were greeted by our first totem. It was the remains of a mortuary pole
and still the image of the grizzly and what looks a human figure below him
that he is protecting. It’s only a guess as the true meaning is a secret
held within the clan that commissioned it. The story or it’s meaning only
permitted to be told by the chief it represents, now probably forgotten or
lost to the decay of the forest. The rest of the totem has rotted away
but still a strong presence is there. The Haida feel no loss as their
totems disintegrate into the forest as once it is gone the soul is
released and the spirit of the person is free.
GOTZ HEADING TO
SANDPSIT
Larry got Knotty Dog in there before
and can do it again and he did.