The Rapids - Campbell River to Port Hardy

Ever since I began reading about this trip, I’ve been worried about the series of rapids that come shortly after leaving Campbell River. Rapids, to me, occur in rivers, not oceans. They’re down hill runs with rocks (operative word for rapids) caused by joining of rivers, curve in rivers, squeezing of rivers or drops in ground covered. They have nothing to do with ocean sailing. They are traveled (if traveled at all) by flexible rubber rafts like the kind one uses on the Colorado River and other such RIVERS. They are not traveled by 52’ fiberglass sailboats with 9’ keels. So, what’s all this about?

Reading on, I learn that these rapids are not down hill or up hill. They occur in a long stretch of water roughly between Campbell River and south of Port Neville where the water flow is restricted by Vancouver Island on one side and a buffer of islands and the mainland on the other. On a map, the stretch shows up about the width of a pencil and doesn’t look like anything bigger than a canoe can get thru, but, in reality, it’s several hundred feet wide – big enough for cruise ships, barges, log booms and Avante. Winds can be a big factor as they roar down the funnel created by the land masses, but how the rapids run and the danger they present depends predominantly on which way the tide is running and how strong it is. It’s all about the currents, whirlpools and tidal pulls created.. Rapids can also have rocks, but that’s not a concern with my rapids – or at least it no longer is. Fifty years ago, there was a monolith in the middle of Seymour Narrows, our first set of rapids. It had the innocuous name of Ripple Rock. It should have been Death Rock or something like that. It had earned the reputation of having the ability to suck boats into the swirling vortex at its base. In 1957, a group of engineers drilled into it, packed it with enough explosives to destroy a small city and blew the thing to smithereens. Ripple Rock was ripped to shreds. That doesn’t mean the rapids went away; just the rock. Seymour Narrows is still a dangerous stretch if you go thru at the wrong time. Even the big cruisers respect it. Everything is about timing. Slack tide.

Friday, June 1, we say good bye to Judy and Warner. Bill and I spend the early morning working around the boat. At 10:30 (timed to catch the slack tide in Seymour Narrows), we head off. I’m not exactly feeling in my prime having slept badly last night worried about these rapids ahead. I’ve had 2 cappuccinos and a slice of watermelon, but that’s it. I’m sure that anything of substance would just sit like a brick in my stomach. My insides ache. They feel in knots. At the moment, I don’t know whether I’m going to be sick or just “gotta pee”. I’m on a continuous 5 minute pee break. Bill finally has enough and tells me to stop it and hold it. Normally, I have the utmost faith in Bill’s judgment, and I do now – but these are RAPIDS.. All the books talk in awe or dread of them. What if he’s misread the time tables? What if the propeller falls off? That just happened to the boat of friends of ours. It does happen. The tiller also could fall off. Then we’d go spinning out of control down these rapids. What am I doing here?

We round the corner and enter Seymour Narrows. It is slack tide. From a distance, things look calm, but when you look down and around the water near the boat, it looks like swirling black ink. You can see the whirlpools and currents. You can feel the pull on the boat. There’s constant adjustment at the helm. Depth is not a concern as long as we stay in the middle of the channel, and it’s a wide channel. The concern is just keeping the boat on course against the pull. I wonder for an instant what would happen if we let the wheel go free. Where would the boat end up and in what shape? The prop stays on. The engine doesn’t fail, and we get thru the first set of rapids. (I really should not include this picture. Blue water and blue skies make the entrance to Seymour Narrows look like a "row in a bath tub". Believe me, it wasn't quite as pretty from the deck of Avante.)

Two more sets await us, but I’m an old hand now. Instead of being the passenger, I assume the helm and steer us thru both sets. There certainly is no doubt that these rapids need respect, but, as the books say (after they first scare you to death), run them at the right time and there’s no problem. My stomach eases. I make lunch and eat since all is once again right with my world.

We continue down to Johnstone Strait. The weather is great. Everything is shades of blue and green. The land is thickly covered with evergreens, and, as we proceed north, there is more logging activity. Yes, there are great swaths of trees cut down, but the logging is done in a weaving jig saw pattern. Everywhere also there is evidence of reforestation and new growth. Other than a few fishing vessels and a barge or two, we pass no other private boat all day. We had expected a boat or two to be going thru the Narrows with us. It was either then or not at all today, but no other boats are with us. We pull into an isolated harbor for the evening and, and to our surprise, there are 2 motor boats ahead of us. We’re just so all alone up here on these waters that it really does come as a surprise when we see other boats.

We leave at 6:00 the next morning with plans to sail the entire length of Johnstone Strait with the tide. The winds are low to moderate which is a relief because the whole week before they had been running at gale force down this channel. As we round the corner, a log boom suddenly looms into view. It had pulled in off the Strait after we did, and at first appears to be blocking the whole channel back into the Strait

As it is going in the opposite direction back toward Campbell River, the tug captain had pulled in off the main channel to wait for the tide to turn. These log booms are immense floating log platforms. The logs are held together within a log frame work and then lashed together with wire. Like a barge, one doesn’t argue with this thing’s right of way. It has it!

We sail thru Johnson Strait with no problem and know we are lucky. We may have chosen the right time according to the tide tables, but we had no control over the sun which was shining or the winds which were nil. We motor into Blackfish Sound. It’s a maze of islands and canals. There are fishing boats all over as well as what look like crab and prawn traps. Eureka! We drop anchor and drop the trap. It’s warm and sunny. We set up the awning and have a pleasant afternoon in its shade. It’s the end of another warm, sunny, gorgeous day. Could this be first timer’s luck?

Our plans are to spend the next 3 days exploring the islands and channels of Blackfish Sound and the Broughton Archipelago. The further north we go, the wilder the land feels and looks. Though this is a popular summer area, it’s not summer season yet, and we seem to be alone. We’re pressing further into the wilderness. We catch our first crabs. We see our first black bear on the shores. Bald eagles are being spotted more frequently. We enjoy our exploring and are delighted that we will be coming back thru this area on our return. We know, too, that next summer when we circumnavigate Vancouver Island we will plan more time among the islands and channels up here. I know a lot of people have done this trip before us, but to be exploring this immense area on our own little boat with almost nobody around us is exciting and filling of wonder. Each day is an adventure.

We pull into Port Hardy on the morning of Tuesday, June 5th. We plan the afternoon to provision, attend to boat needs and do my least favorite chore: babysitting the dirty clothes at the Laundromat. Port Hardy proves to be a rather dull place and not all that picturesque. Its one redeeming feature was the number of bald eagles flying around the harbor. We enjoyed watching their flights. Our plans are to leave the next morning with an okay weather window to head across Queen Charlotte Strait and further north to Prince Rupert.
To end this entry, here are a few pictures of the area.

Lighthouse near the entrance to Seymour Narrows

What a difference a few feet further traveled makes! Look at those mountain looming into view.

Just to give an idea of some of the weaving thru rocks and islets. All those little circles are obstacles to be avoided at all costs. In between the dots are passages either with deep water or some not so deep. The blue dot is Avante on track.

Interesting passage thru the rocks and islets. Just stay in the deep part to avoid the hidden rocks and the ones that can be seen

First rainy day - the clouds, mists, mountains and water were beautiful

Sullivan Bay – a float town left over from the logging hey days now turned into a quaint summer retreat. The land is so thickly forested and impenetrable that it was easier and quicker to build these floating towns. We dock and have lunch here.

Telluride's season for businesses to turn a profit is tremendously long compared to the scant 8 weeks a year these people have.

Site of old floating logger village camp

Thick overhanging vegetation -- impenetrable forests

Only the bears make it thru this vegetation!