Today
marks the end of a difficult week. Not difficult in
the sense that we had to stand anchor watch 24/7, or that boat system after
boat system broke down and need to be repaired. The problem was much simpler
than that . . . but just as frustrating. The root of our evil was rain. And
this past week it rained like we’d never seen it rain before.
The
Inside Passage has many moods and personalities that come out
during changing weather and some of its most stunning moments are cloaked in
mist and fog. It’s easy to lose oneself in the beauty and mystery of the
rainforest on these days: Old-growth coniferous trees rise up from thick, lush
moss in more shades of green than the eye can see. Rain collects in small pools
that overfill and give life to falls that roar down granite rock faces. Colours
become more vivid and the world grows still. In my mind, it’s pure
perfection.
 |
| Brown bears roam the shore on a foggy morning in Misty Fiords National Monument |
But this was something completely
different.
After
listening to the updated forecast from NOAA, we decided to cut our time in
Takatz Inlet short and enjoy the last day of fine weather in a new anchorage – Red Bluff Bay Baranof
Island . Named after the
iron deposits that colour the hills at the entrance, Red Bluff Bay
I
went out in my kayak to take some pictures and heard someone call my name as I
was climbing back aboard Cambria . It was Tom and Gale on SV Impossible Dream. I’d seen them come into the anchorage but hadn’t
recognized them because they were with another boat. The other turned out to be
John, Tom’s brother, and the boat was SV Gypsy
Woman – maybe leaving Takatz Inlet wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
We
had dinner together aboard Impossible
Dream and sat in the open cockpit sharing stories and laughter late into
the evening – pure cruising heaven! It was seventh anchorage we’d shared with
Tom this season, despite the fact that we’ve been on entirely different tracks
since leaving Ketchikan. Something tells me it won’t be the last . . . at least
we hope not.
Our
reunion was short-lived and they left the following morning. Maybe we should’ve
gone as well, but our plan was to hang around Red Bluff Bay Gut Bay Petersburg
We
wouldn’t make it off the boat after that.
I’m
not talking about your regular run-of-the-mill average summertime rain in the
rainforest, the kind that sticks around for a day or two and then moves on. This
was something else entirely: Day after day after day of torrential rain with no
end in sight. Rain that was so cold and heavy, it felt more like November than
the height of summer. Rain that kept us trapped inside for close to a week and
left us feeling deflated, if not defeated.
Here’s
what David had to say in Cambria ’s log:
We
needed to do something. And fast.
The
situation was getting grim, mentally more so than physically, and it was time
to come up with a new plan of action. Sitting around waiting for the conditions
to improve so we could actually see what Gut Bay
We
were finally able to receive a VHF signal and listen to the forecast on
Thursday, and it wasn’t good news. Another low was approaching the coast and
would be situated off Sitka Petersburg Gut Bay
We
woke up this morning to clearing skies and a rising barometer – both good
signs. After listening to the forecast, we weighed our options and decided to
go back to Warm Springs for a well-deserved soak in the tubs before crossing Chatham Strait Juneau
Note: This blog was written on
Friday, 31 July 2015.
4 comments
Ugh...sounds like a true test of patience to sit inside and wait out all that rain. There's only so long you can stay onboard before you start to lose your marbles.
ReplyDeleteYeah. The highlight of our day was deciding what movie to watch at night (which we expect in October but got us down a bit in July when everyone south of us was basking in the sun).
DeleteRain in the Northwest is often a mental game - an attitude of "What rain? I'm going kayaking!" can make it much more bearable. Yet, I can imagine how hard that must have been - once clothes are wet, they're not at all easy to dry out on a boat when not at dock.
ReplyDeleteI wish it was that kind of rain. We lived in New Zealand (which can be very wet in the winter months)for 6 years and have been in the PNW for the last 7 . . . all whilst living aboard. You go outside rain or shine (especially when you have a dog, which we did for 15 14 of those years. This was something else entirely. Not only would we not have been able to dry anything for days (and believe me, the boat was wet enough with humidity as it was), but there was nothing to see -- the rain was coming down that hard.
Delete