Crater Lake

The Park Service is pretty proud of Crater Lake National Park. Camping at CLNP cost $18 for a tent site, on top of the $10 per vehicle fee to get into the park. Whereas my stay the night before at the perfectly fine Howards Gulch campsite had cost nothing. This seemed like a lot, especially as the lake wasn't visilble when I arrived due to inclimate weather.

While it was raining on the plains in Modoc it was snowing at the higher elevations, and there had been snow storms at Crater Lake, despite the fact that summer was just BARELY over. Fortunately it wasn't snowing as I set up my tent just after dark, though it quickly became evident that my summer-weight sleeping bag wasn't going to keep me cozy all night. So I retreated to the car. The next morning the puddles were frozen and the frost refused to melt off the tent. But the sky had cleared, and, as you can see from the above panorama shot (I got another camera function to work!), the visibility was excellent.

Breaking down the frosty tent was slow and unpleasant without gloves, and very unlike the model of efficienct camp-breaking-down the day before. I was glad to have those little chemical handwarmer packettes that I hadn't used in Alaska . I was surprised at how cold it was, and felt the need to express my dismay at the temperature by scratching the word "cold" in the frost on the side of tent.

The Rim Road around the lake was closed due to the snow, but I was able to hike from Crater Lake Lodge up to Garfield Point (el. 8,054 ft). There was still a dusting of snow on the ground at the lodge, and it was up to a foot deep further up the trail. The rim of the crater is no more than a couple of feet wide in some places. And the rocks were really cool. There's two things poking up from the depths of the lake. The Phantom Ship is a remnant of Mt. Mazama when it broke apart after the eruption. That's the Phantom Ship with Mt. Scott in the background.

Subsequent volcanic activity formed the other one, Wizard Island, which looks like a little dusty volcano. I'm doing my best to obscure it in this picture:After the hike I spent a little while in the great room of the Crater Lake Lodge. It is open to the public and perfect for sitting by the fire, looking at the lake, and sipping hot chocolate. After I got my fill of the first and last snow I'm going to see this season, I set off to Eugene to see Amy and her family in Eugene.

Snow is pretty.

Wilds of the Klamath

Thursday Sept. 22.

Took a little trip to Oregon after returning from Alaska. The drive north from Sacramento is beautiful once you turn east off Hwy 5 onto Hwy 299. From a fairly predictable flat plain, the Pit River suddently drops down to the right in a dramatic gorge.

The flat land made the sky seem larger, and the sunset played through different colors in the various clouds hovering at the distant horizon.

I missed the last chance for a burger in Burney and instead had lentil soup and crackers at the Howard Gultch campsite. Not bad. The weather was nice enough to forego the rainfly and I fell asleep looking at the starts through the tent roof mesh.Breaking camp the next day I was feeling pretty good about the trip so far -- until the first raindrops fell. It rained on and off all day while I checked out the critters at the Klamath Basin National Wildlife Refuge.

It only rains about 10 inches a year in this part of the counry. I think I experienced 10% of the annual rainfall that day. Lucky me. Made for dramatic skies, as I drove on to Crater Lake.

The Emerald City

Ok, I'm not sure that's actually Vancouver's nickname, but it should be. It is a gorgeous city to approach from the water. On our last day of sailing, we finally put up the mainsail and did some REAL SAILING! Sailed past Stanley Park, a great thousand-acres park between the water and the downtown, home to an aquarium, bike trails, mini-trains, and all those other things that urban parks are supposed to have. Then passed under the Lion's Gate Bridge to the Coal Harbor Marina.

The bumpy transition back to civilization was made easier by the finer things cities have to offer, including sushi and Shakespeare. Mike and I caught the Bard on the Beach production of "As You Like It". It took Mike nudging me through most of the first act to quiet my giggles at the costumes... all the men had codpieces. Intersting creative decision. Went out to the University the next day and checked out the much-acclaimed museum of native culture. The totem which depicted a halibut swallowing a man made me wonder if I misunderstood the my place in the food chain relative to that particular fish. In general, I found the museum rather annoying, as it did not provide answers to questions such as, "What the heck is this?!" It did however have many little signs asking the dopes that paid to get in to please stay out of the display areas.














The last night in Vancouver was spent over a fine dinner and a rousing game of "Oh Heck!" I'm happy to report I dominated all three Korys in this last game. HA!

All in all, a fine trip with a fine bunch of folks. I wish we had been able to do some more sailing, but given my inability to help out with pulling on lines, it's probably just as well. The amazing scenery made the damp turns of the weather tolerable, and I would definitely return to that part of the world again -- next time with a fishing pole, a crab pot, and a looser itinerary.

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Canadian Buns

The cribbage games were getting pretty fierce in Desolation Sound, and by the time we reached Lund I owed Mike a cinnamon bun. As it turns out, Nancy's Bakery has the best cinnamon buns on the Canadian west coast. So he was happy. And so was I, 'cuz hey -- hot sweet sticky cinnamon buns!
The warm fuzzy feelings inspired by a beautiful sunset were quickly replaced by annoyance at the worst infestation of mosquitoes we'd seen yet. So THAT'S why there were screen doors on all the shops in town and that big display of OFF! at the mini-mart...

Needless to say we did not stay another night, and were soon off to Howe Sound. No bugs. Mike and Katie did a little kayaking while Marianne made another fabulous dinner. The beautiful day was followed by a clear night. Marianne decided to go for a swim just as it was getting dark. She swam over to a rock and sat out for a while. As she was sitting there, we noticed seals swimming between her and us. They didn't look too hungry, and didn't give her any trouble as she swam back, though she siad they got close enough for her to smell their foul fishy breath.

We sat out on deck for a while making up constellations and thinking about the good times we've had. Within spitting distance of Vancouver it felt like we were approaching the end of the trip. It would be nice to return to regular showers and flush toilets (instead of the marine head mostly obscured from the rest of the cabin by a thin sheet of fiberglass), but I would miss the constantly changing scenery, the 10 am cookie break, the occassional win at cribbage, and my traveling companions.

Heading Toward Sunshine

We made the short hop from Klemtu to Shearwater on August 27, immediately invading the fishing resort's laundry and public shower facility which were convienently located in the same builidng. We gorged on halibut sandwitches and pecan pie at the restuarant. We decided to stay for two nights, to avoid some rumored bad weather for the next leg of the trip, which would be a long one and for part of it we would be exposed to the Pacific, without protection from seaward islands.

I bought a beautiful coho from a fisherman and we had that for dinner for a couple of days. It was the best sashimi I've ever had. Marianne and Mike are looking at it affectionately, and I must say, it did inspire such pleased expressions.










We left after dinner to travel by night through the open water part of the next leg. The helmsperson couldn't see anything in the water and it was a bit disconcerting to hear logs bumping against the hull as I was trying to sleep. The sun rose as we approached Vancouver Island -- a beautiful morning.

We made our next stop at Port Neville, which was really just a dock run by some exceptionally friendly people. The weather was sunny and beautiful, giving us the crazy notion that swimming would be a fun thing to do. Erica, the host's daughter, took us on a hike to a swimming hole where the water was a balmy 55 degrees. David and Katie got in and out of the water, but Marianne actually swam around a bit. Crazy Bavarian. I got in up to my ankles and could hardly stay in long enough for Marianne to take a picture.

They hosted a dessert pot luck that night. Due to heavy cookie consumption and a dearth of selection at Shearwater, I think we brought some miniature Hershey Bars and wine. Fortunately the others tied up at the dock that night did a little better. We vowed after this to always keep a pie aboard -- just in case.

On the way to Campbell River for a resupply, we passed through Seymore Narrows (hee hee), where the current is concentrated into a strong flow. Boats are cautioned against going during maximum current, as they tend to loose control and run into things. We didn't wait for slack tide, and were helped through by 11 knots of current. This was the easiest 17 knots I'd ever made on that boat. But the wirlpools were a little worrisome. I'm not if getting stuck in one means certain death or not, but we managed to avoid them, and made it safely to Squirril Cove.

That bit of a ripple on the water above is actually a wirlpool.
That's the knotmeter showing us going 17.1 knots. How fast is that? Most of the boats I take out on SF bay do about 5 knots. The Barking Spider was doing 8-9 knots without the current. So the 11 knot current (YIKES!) more than doubled our speed. That still blows my mind.

Didn't see squirrils at the cove, but many purple starfish, oysters and crabs.

After a nice night, we were off to catch the high tide to get into Roscoe Bay. We were a bit early and dragged bottom in 8.5 feet of water. It was neat to be able to see to the bottom, to see we were in the deep part of the channel and know what we were getting into. Literally. Now I can say I've gone aground. No big deal, we backed out and waited for the tide to come up a bit more and then headed in. The water was full of jellyfish, which added another to fret about while getting in and out of the kayak from the deck which was 5 feet off the water. Went for a swim in Black Lake. It was comparatively warm, but being a chicken, it still took me a half hour of careful deliberation in ankle-deep water before taking the plunge. The deciding factor was when Mike, who is a notorious cold water hater, dove in before me. The next day we went for a hike to the top of the local high spot. The fog obscured what I'm sure would have been a spectacular view.

Unfortunately, many of the pictures I took from this point on were later eaten by David's laptop.

Oh Canada!

We made the 90 NM from Ketchikan to Prince Rupert (our first Canadian port) on August 24 in nice weather! Nice in that it wasn't raining or blowing 15 knot on the nose. It was still and foggy. The fog got thicker as we approached the Venn Passage, the narrow shortcut to Prince Rupert. As we were all squinting into the fog looking for marker buoys a large fishing boat suddenly appeared in front of us. Its unnerving when large objects which have the capacity to do a fair amount of damage to the boat sneak up closer than you'd expect they could. But we were fine. Even when David said, "Hm... the GPS doesn't seem to be working." This would be the GPS that we were relying on to keep us in the channel. Turned out he just needed to zoom in. Crisis averted.

We stayed just the night in Prince Rupert, which didn't have a lot going on. The movie theater was playing the Dukes of Hazard, but no one was particularly intrested, and we opted for playing Uno until we couldn't play Uno anymore.

Next day we spent many hours on deck in the rain motoring through the Grenville Channel, stopping to anchor for the night in Lowe Inlet with a few other boats. Mike towed me and my fishing line around for a while. Despite a number of salmon jumping near us, nothing took the bait.

The up-side to all the rain was an amazing display from dozens of waterfalls lining the steep channel sides.

Rained the next day as we motored to Klemtu, a "First Nation" village. "First Nation" is Canadian for "Native American", eh? Though we arrived after the stores and cafe had closed, and left at 6am the next day, we heard from other cruisers that had gone ashore there that it was nice, and not full of fetal alcohol syndrome like Bella Bella, another FN town. Our early departure was motivated by the fuel tanker that wanted to refuel the fuel dock we were tied up to. Of course, we could have just moved a bit out of the way... but once David's moving there's no stopping him. When David speaks of plans for the next day, saying, "We'll see how it goes. Whatever," what he really means is, "We'll leave as soon as I wake up."

Live and learn.

Little Towns, Bears, and Cruise Ships

Although it was sunny when we left Petersburg, it was raining by the time we reached Wrangell. Marianne made a fine dinner while we were underway, and went ashore in our foulies to search for something for dessert. As the cruise ship had already left, the only thing open in town was the ice cream parlor, run by a guy who really didn't like scooping ice cream, and discouraged the ordering of large sundaes.

Next day, on to the Anan Bay bear observatory. The observatory overlooks a Anan Creek, which is chock full of salmon beating their shinny heads against the rocks trying to get upstream. Watched a bear wake up from a snooze inside the cave, yawn, saunter over to the edge of the creek which was an eddy full of salmon, and grab one out without even trying.

We also saw a momma bear and two cubs on the trail on the way back to the boat. I prefer bear-watching when the bears can't pounce on me, if they feel like it.

The folks renting the US Forest Service operated cabin at the edge of the bay, were kind enough to let us use the float reserved for the cabin. So we didn't have to fuss with figuring anchor rode for a 20 foot tidal difference. That was nice. They left the next day by float plane.

The rangers live in a floating cabin in the bay for a week at a time. Its a little more bear proof than the other cabin.

Saw a few bald eagles the next day in the trees just ashore of where we were moored.

Spent next (rainy) night at Meyers Chuck, which can hardly even be considered a town. A few houses with docks, connected overland by a narrow path through the trees. About the only ammenity on the island was a pie baking and delivery service run by Cassy.

Next day we left (again in the rain) for Ketchikan. After 6 days, it was nice to be able to take a shower and do some laundry. My foul weather gear was really starting to smell foul.

There were 4 cruise ships in Ketchikan while we were there, giving it kind of a Disneyland-like atmosphere. On a nerdier note: I noted that utility repairs must be fairly easy in this town, at least the don't require digging. Lines aren't buried. They're suspened under the roadway, which is kind of built out from the hill, or suspended under building built over water.

After the Glacier

The faint yellow line on the map above shows our route from Juneau (Its kind of at a funny angle, North is toward the top left corner, so the words are oriented horizontal when the map is turned so North is at the top... for those who care.)
We stayed the next night in Hobart Bay, tied up to a float next to the sinister-looking and appropriately named "Hostile," but it didn't give us any trouble. Had a few civilized birthday beverages in the cockpit before it started raining. It continued to rain all night and into the next day. We left early for Petersburg, and soaked ourselves in rotation on our half hour steering shifts. Petersburg was supposed to be in the "rain belt," but we got a day of sunshine to dry out and explore the little Norweigen fishing town.

Barking Spider tied up at dock, with fish processing place in the background.

Fishermen and their King Salmon catch. Mmmmm... salmon...

Petersburg with Castle Mountain in the background, as we left.

David was determined not to let a 5 knot cross current scare us away from the fuel dock.