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THE SEADOG SAGA ©2000 Jeff Lindeman July 29 thru August 1, 2000 Vessel: Juanderer - 26ft Ciera 2651 Express Cruiser Captain: Jeff Lindeman First Mate: Steve Noe Day One - The trouble with scurvy dogs and fishing It all started on the morning of Saturday, July 29th. After provisioning my 26-foot Bayliner Ciera, christened Juanderer, in Bellingham the day before, I met with my dubious crew of one (Expedition Fishing Expert, Steve Noe) at Hilton Harbor Marina at 8am. After stowing his gear, which included circa 1950 fishing poles and reels, we took note of the fog clamped down hard out on Bellingham Bay, and wandered off to check out the Lady Washington, a two-masted square rig moored in the harbor.  The fog cleared about 10am and off we headed across the bay, discussing our heretofor undecided destination. We concluded that the days' run would terminate in Ganges Harbor on Saltspring Island in the Canadian Gulf Islands; what for all intent and porpose should be about a 4 to 4 1/2 hour run at 20-25 knots, including a customs check-in at Bedwell Harbor on South Pender. Ha! Little did we know what the salty sea would lay before us to impede our progress. Intending to pick them up in four days, we dropped our crab pots in Chuckanut Bay and turned west for Iliza Island. The first of our troubles appeared as a fogbank as we rounded Eliza and the south tip of Lummi. Knowing these waters well enough I, as captain and experienced seaman (cough, cough), decided to steer a course of 54 dgrees and deadreckon our way to the first marker, a red number 4 can with a bell just north of Sinclair Island. About a half-hour later, much to my amazement...er, I mean exactly as planned, we came dead-on to the can as it emerged from a thickening shroud of fog. A few minutes later the sky above us became blue and within fifteen more Rosario Strait cleared out and we headed for Obstruction Pass.
At about 12:30pm (the time we "could" of been arriving at Ganges) we passed into Harney Channel, now hoping to reach our destination by 4pm. Up on plane and passing by the Orcas Ferry terminal, we spun a prop. Damn! It didn't feel like we hit anything, though I suspect we must of whacked a small chunk of something. So we putted around the corner into West Sound Marina to have a look. After some advice from the top-notch chandlery and boatyard, we backed her up against a notch in the fuel dock, removed the dingy, raised the outdrive and changed the prop (I'm at least smart enough to carry two extra props for just such an ocassion). After a few test runs around West Sound at high speed, we finally turned west again about 2:30pm and resumed what was turning into a true battle against adversity - our holy quest to eat fish and chips and guzzle beer at Moby's Pub in Ganges!  Finally, after steaming around Turn Point on Stuart Island, the most northwestern point in the continential United States, we crossed Boundry Pass, checked in at Bedwell and continued up Swanson Channel and into the long reef and island speckled passage of Ganges Harbor. It was 6pm as we grabbed the last available slip in Ganges Marina. By 6:30 we had shore power hooked up, the outboard on the dinghy dropped at our stern and rum drinks in our mits as we surveyed the Marina from the confort of the cockpit - long days adventure behind us. After sampling a few pieces of freshly caught Ling Cod, deep fried on the dock by a follow boater, we adjourned via dinghy to Moby's Pub, at the adjacent Saltspring Marina, for a plate of some of the best Halibut and Chips I've had the pleasure of scarfing - not to forget a few pints of fine local brew known as Whales Tale Ale.
Day Two - A tale of sealife, rogue waves and soggy seadogs A beautiful morning on Saltspring Island. We walked into town and perused the stores looking for gifts to take home to the wives (hey, we're not stupid!) and after a nice on-board breakfast of bacon and eggs, we departed Ganges with a slug of Cuervo Gold and the suck of a lime.  As we passed from Swanson Channel into Boundry Pass, Steve noticed a few dolphins/porpoises (my subsequent research leads me to believe they were Dall's Porpoises http://www.bcadventure.com/adventure/wilderness/animals/dallporp.htm jumping about half mile off the port bow. As we scanned the waters we saw 6 or 7 more. The whole area is covered with tide rips that randomly seem to generate that choppy confused sea surface with adjacent areas of swirling glass. Steve suggested we stop, which I did. As we drifted within one of the swirling glassy portions, they moved over to us and started circling the boat leaping and splashing all around us. We figured their were at least a dozen of them if not more and when the rip patterns moved out from under us to starboard they moved away with the rip. A very exciting and truly magical experiece.
We continued on to Roche Harbor to check back in to the US and then around the corner into Westcott Bay to pick up some oysters for dinner. As we were leaving Westcott we ran into Joan and Ron Digerness, a couple of my boating friends, and Ron being a longtime local fisherman, we asked where the good fishing might be to mooche for a salmon or rock cod. He said that right outside of Henry Island (10 minutes from us), right up against the rocks in about 70 feet of water was a known spot, so off we went to our awaited fate...  OK, so now a little relaxing with a fishing pole is slated for the afternoon. As we waited for slack (still about an hour away) we decided to get the lines wet and do a a little trolling. Probably futile since I left the down-rigger at home, but hell, 'fishing ain't the reason, it's only the excuse'. So, Steve set up the poles and I manned the helm to keep us stationary to the seawall in the considerable current rounding the point. All was well as we sipped our rums and watched a container ship headed north up Haro Strait toward us. As the tide slackened and the ship passed, I suggested we pull the gear out of the water and prepare to negotiate the wake of what we named The Hamburg Express / Happag Lloyd ship, now just passed.
I've tangled with the wake off a fully steaming Foss ocean-going tug and I knew that the wake would probably be at least a 5 footer, so I wanted to be headed into 'er when she arrived. It had our full attention as the first TEN FOOT swell passed under us. 'Holy Shit,' I thought as we settled in the trough between and the horizon disappeared from view. The second came a little higher, and the third a little quicker as I increased power. At the top of the third, the world seemed to slide into slow motion as we got our first glimpse of the final TWELVE FOOT BREAKING WAVE beyond. With full power, and the chances of reaching the crest of the breaker across the considerable hole between the proverbial 'snowball in hell', the bow dropped into the trough and I watched in disbelief as the anchor pulpit dove into greenwater. A sheet of water moved up and over the windshield and drenched the helm and rear cockpit. Steve, still in the rear cockpit, hunkered down behind the bridge seating and moments later it was a done deal. Steve's reaction to this, as I hit the bilge pump and sat in stunned silence, was to jump up to the bridge and plant himself with a holler and reach for the already half empty bottle of tequila. After a couple of slugs each we decided we would not be needing showers this day and returned our poles to the water. It also goes without saying that the next time I see a frieghter under way, I'll duck into a cove if at all possible!  We later secured a slip for the night at Roche Harbor so we might run the heater and dry the several gallons of water that had made it's way into the carpet below decks. We dined on oysters and shrimp jambalaya which garnered much attention from our nieghboring boaters. One boat, a 45 footer named Costa Lotta, paid the handsome reward of a Cuban cigar for the recipe and a sample, which I enjoyed heartily with a single malt scotch after dinner. Arrrrrrrrgh!
Oh yeah, ask me no questions I'll tell you no lies. No fish. Day Three - The wind and seas alone decide the course of men Another beautiful day. We started off with a hearty breakfast of strawberry pancakes - who says life on the sea has to be rough? After fueling both ourselves and the boat, we picked up about 4 pounds each of oysters in Wescott and put 'em on ice to take home to the girls. Steve, now converted from a lukewarm oyster eater to a true oyster lover - we also had orders from our homebound admirals to bring some back. We also picked up a few clams for that evenings' sup. The plan was now to head for the northeast tip of Waldron Island west of Orcas, try our had at fishing up there and make the short run to Sucia for the night. These plans were modified when we poked our nose out of Spieden Channel and looking north into President Channel discovered it to be awash in whitecaps from a stiff westerly blow. Plan B was to circumnavigate Orcas, coming up the east, lee side of the island. This proved to be a pleasant choice as we rounded the rips off of Lawrence Point and discovered it was a millpond all the way to Sucia. In the distance the Lady Washington under sail added to the picturesque quality of the day. As we passed her we took some pictures and carried on to Sucia - Steve's first choice being Fox Cove on the southwest side of the island. Being late in the afternoon, we came up with full harbors in both Fox and Shallow Bay, so we went in deeper and deeper to what appeared to be a full Fossil Bay also, to find one space left at the innermost dock. We settled in and prepared the boat for the night. After a hike up the bluff that juts to the west between Fossil Bay and Fox Cove, we dined on clams first, followed by a salad and New York Steaks. Again refuting the sailors of old that lived on salt meats and rum. Oh, we did include the rum in our meal, but only out of respect for our sea-going forebearers - yeah right. Day Four - Whiskey Rock and seamen going to pot This final day we departed Sucia and headed down the west side of Orcas, completing our circumnavigation of Orcas. Stopping at West Beach Marina, a small fishermen's marina open to President Channel, it was apparent what little protection Waldron Island affords to the west. After a touchy docking and a couple burgers we attempted departure about 12:30pm, just before low tide, only to find that our outdrive was stuck in the rising muck as the dock headed to eventually lay down on the beach. Thinking quickly, so as not to be marooned for the next few hours, we raising the outdrive and pushed her off the corner of the dock into deeper water, quickly lowering the drive to make our escape. Unfortunately, there was one more shallow rock in our path and we nicked the prop on the way out. Fortunately, this was the 3-blade extra prop I had put on the first day, so my precious 4-blade was spared the indignity. Around Orcas we went and after a stop at Blakely Island to gas up, we headed back through a new route I had been told about - straight across Rosario Strait, around Toehead at the north of Cypress Island and around the south of Sinclair to Iliza and home - less exposed than my usual route up Rosario around the north side of Sinclair to Iliza. As we approached Chuckanut Bay to retrieve the crab pots we had left in the south mouth of the bay on Saturday morning, Steve spotted a large rock just south from Govenors Point that hides Pleasant Bay inside the south end of Chuckanut. The rock is charted as Whiskey Rock, and it has inspired a new tradition for us - we must always take a slug of the Scotch whiskey that is always provisioned on the Juanderer and toast the haul of crab we are about the reap. And I might amend that this should always include a curse for Happag Lloyd, scurge of the sea and blasphemer of seaman that she is. Arrrrgh! Upon pulling of the first pot, we most delightfully discovered it to be full to the brim with seventeen large male crab - and not a single female. Keeping sixteen we threw one back for the crab gods (and because he had but one claw ;-). The next pot - the larger of the two - sadly contained only three very large keepers, leading me to believe that we were either poached or the victims of a malfunctioning door. In any case, we left with a more than respectable nineteen crab and turned our bow for home.  Epilogue - Whenever I pull away from the dock with days on the horizon before returning home, I have this wonderful feeling of 'money in the bank'. A feeling of casting off more than just docklines, but also concerns of the land. No business. No mortgage. No email. Nothing but the task at hand. A temporary amnesia of sorts that cleanses the soul and refreshes the spirit.
Whenever I return from "going out", there's a backlash. A period of lowered morale. A slight cloud of depression. All that is left is the memory of the experience and now you must face what you may have left simmering on the burner when you departed. It's unavoidable. Sometimes you can milk one or two more days, depending on what's on the table when you left, but it only postpones the inevitable end of flight. This trip was no different, and worse in some ways. For one, the weather never faltered as the sunshine continued to scream from the sky. And to make matters worse, I could of taken that extra day or two, but alas it was Steve that had firm obligations to meet. However, in the ashes are the makings of new plans and unfolding sagas to come. It was decided that we would increase next years' tour to 5 days! And the focus and title were also narrowed. It shall be known as 2001: A Fish and Chips Odd-at-Sea. Ganges Harbor, Maple Bay (on Vancouver Island) and one other to be determined. Know a GREAT fish and chips marina somewhere? Let us know! Until then, fair winds and following seas and I'll meet you outside the inlet. Cheers, Jeff |