Into the fog and mist and unknown destination

Thursday, June 26, 2008: Fin Bay up Fisher Channel to Bob’s Bay off Lama Passage, Spire Point


Underway in fog in Fitz Hugh Sound

We pull out from Fin Bay, past Buck Fishing Lodge, where a few people lounge in deck chairs on a floating dock with a string of floating wooden cabins. The sign over their heads reads—Bullshit Boulevard. The checkered shirt brigade. I missed a picture, because I was at the wheel.

Out into Fitz Hugh Sound. Oooooh pea soup. Rain. Cold. A northwest summer day.

"A whale!" Russ shouted. I missed it again. He had seen one completely breach crossing the Queen Charlotte Straits yesterday.

"WOW!!" he yelled at the top of his voice. When I turned my head all I saw was the enormous splash! Only a whale could have made such a monstrous displacement of water. A whale splash!

"Keep a sharp lookout." Russ said as he went below to plot a course. If you see something, it will come up fast! Punch the off button on the autopilot and turn hard to starboard so we can pass port to port.

"Are you talking cruise ships?" I asked trying to read what could come up so fast out of the fog?

"Yes, and fishing boats, and tugs pulling barges, and ferries, and German submarines."

Ya sure, ya betcha. Steady as she goes on course into the Canadian mists and fog. Radar on, eyes scanning the shortest of horizons. A fishing boat! Ghost-like coming to meet us. Turn to starboard, pass port to port out of the fog and into the light. A ferry boat out of nowhere to our port going the same direction, then turning. Silent, huge, present. I have to hand it to Russ’ navigation skills. Will toast him tonight once anchored in the unknown spot.

It’s wet alright. I came down the companionway to make hot chocolate—facing forward. Like greased lightening I was on my back on the floor, falling three steep steps to the cabin sole. I moaned and groaned and whined lying in a wet puddle Russ had left from washing the dodger windows, checking my red hand and sore arm.

"Best to go down backwards in future."

What about "Are you OK?" Lucky I am is all I can say. Bloody hell!

Onwards through the fog and rain. Russ did an amazing job of finding an anchorage with ease around 7:30 pm. Bob’s Bay at Spire point off Lama Passage. In honor of our best friend in Queensland, Australia, we rested quietly and peacefully in this bay with light still casting shadows on still waters at 10:00 PM.