. . . a fishing boat, which we hadn’t been able to detect via electronic signal or radar (the boat was made mostly of wood and our radar signal found too little metal infrastructure off which to bounce)! It was a few hundred feet off our port side, and Walt had to turn the helm quickly to starboard to miss it. We had been sounding our horn regularly (two 5-second blasts about every five minutes, as required) but the fisherman seemed busy with their lines and traps and didn’t even look our way as we avoided a collision! I thank God for our safety!
On Thursday (June 23), we had decided to spend Friday relaxing in Kelp Passage Cove. Just before midnight, I took this photo through the port light (window) in the aft cabin, and the rest of the night was just as tranquil as the sea appears in the photo.
But on Friday morning, Walt decided that motoring to an anchorage near the city of Prince Rupert (a relatively large port city on Kaien Island) over the course of the afternoon would allow us to take better advantage of the currents, and so off we went at about 1 pm, pleased to be traveling under nearly-cloudless skies. As we turned into the main channel from the cove, however, we could see the think bank of fog, like a billowing wall of dense cotton, just ahead–AAARGH!
Visibility was VERY poor over the next 15 miles, but we have AIS (an electronic ship identifier and locator system) and radar, and Walt was able to navigate safely; he traveled slowly and sounded our horn while I attempted to keep a careful lookout around all sides of the boat (I was looking to the starboard side, of course, when the fishing boat passed on the port side). We WERE able to give information about conditions to some nearby boats, one traveling a course parallel to ours, in our direction, and not far away (we were able to catch a glimpse of it now and again) and another coming from the opposite direction (neither of us could see it as it passed us quite closely).
After the too-close encounter with the fishing vessel, we radioed another sailboat coming from the direction opposite to ours to be on the lookout for it, and they were most appreciative. At last, we were able to see the outlines of nearby shores as well as sharp, snow-topped mountain summits above the wall of fog. The fog dissipated as we passed Prince Rupert’s shipping facilities and all was bright and shiny as we let down Braesail’s anchor in a place called Pillsbury Cove (no Dough Boy present, but I DID bake a batch of carrot muffins!), at the entrance to which a broad field of colorful floats marks an aquaculture area (probably shellfish)–it looks as if someone dropped a great load of balloons onto the surface of the water that continued partying in the sunshine all by themselves.
Today we motored the short distance to the Prince Rupert Rowing and Yacht Club docks to tie up until Tuesday morning. We could see the fog bank building itself back, but, fortunately, it stayed far away from the Prince Rupert’s docks! We bought diesel fuel upon our arrival, and once Braesail was safely moored, Walt and I walked onshore to enjoy fish and chips at a well-known seafood restaurant before exploring the attractive downtown area. Buying groceries and propane and doing laundry will come later–right now, I’m writing this blog entry and listening to the chirping chatter of some eagles outside (as I enjoyed doing all day when I was working on the blog while we were docked in Sandspit in Haida Gwaii).
Braesail - A grand yacht in the Salish Sea 