This is Rolynn writing to you from the Port McNeill, B.C. marina. The wind's blowing hard, but we're snugly tied to the dock, pleased we decided to head east (to the Broughtons) tomorrow a.m. instead of this morning. Steve and I listen to the weather reports carefully and avoid cruising when the wind is fierce. That we can eat in local restaurants instead of cook aboard, is an added bonus.
So we've had two days to recover from a dizzying whirlwind of a 3 and 1/2 day visit from my sister, Karen and her daughter, Marni. Now, neither one of them had been on a boat our size on the seas like the ones up here, so Steve and I were a little concerned about how they'd manage these isolated venues. NEVER MIND! I swear, these two were ready to learn as well as pitch in - and brought more luck to INTREPID than she/we could handle! You will not believe the stories I am about to tell you, but be assured, they are true.
The first piece of good luck came in my experiment to keep crabs alive over a two week period. The endeavor kept me awake at night, I'm serious (were the little fellows hungry; were they fighting; were they sitting deep enough in the ocean in their trap?). See, Steve and I spent three days catching crabs in a place called Viner Sound; the commercial crabbers had taken the majority of crab from our favorite haunts so we had to hoard a supply for Karen and Marni. In total, we caught 11 big males/keepers. I'm happy to say that by feeding my crabs a juicy big salmon head, I was able to save 8 of the 11 fellows.
Friday: We collect our guests and head from Port McNeill to Laura Bay (sighting two whales on the way), about three hours to the east of the marina. No sooner had we set down anchor (and put out our shrimp pot) in our favorite spot when a boater we know (Mickey) roars up in his dinghy and tells us the salmon are biting in the bay. I think he's nuts. The bay we've visited for years has never produced more than bottom fish or odd flounder. Salmon. N. O. I say I don't have the right lure/bait. He gives me a pink spoon he swears is a winner. I pile Karen and Marni in the dinghy with me driving and two fish poles, and off we go around the corner to the little bay. How do I explain what we saw? Salmon Seaworld? Flying Salmon? The water was churning with Coho Salmon (Silvers), gigantic ones. Now, neither Karen nor Marni has fished in the ocean so I'm quickly giving instructions on the use of a fishing rod (spoons and a 1 oz. weight) while my eyes are popping at the conflagration of jumping salmon. Five little dinghies like ours are trolling in a circle no more than 40 yards in diameter; two have fish on the line. It's a salmon utopia. I get a lure down as does Marni and we start trolling slowly in a circle with the other astounded boaters. In less than fifteen minutes I catch a fish, a big one. The fight is on and I work him a bit before I bring him to the boat. The trouble is, as I draw the fish to Marni holding the net, the fish gets away-something about their soft mouths, I guess. We are so upset. Then I see "my" fish about 1:00 on my starboard side and say to Marni "There he is; let's net him." Marni gets the net ready to bag my stunned fish and I motor the dinghy closer and closer to the big guy. Plop! Marni dips the net in and grabs the salmon, we get him into the boat and spend the next several minutes trying to subdue the creature. He's feisty enough that I have to whack him over the head a couple of times before I gaff him and ask Karen to keep her foot on him. Back to the fishing. (As an aside, we three women have to be the loudest, wildest fisherwomen this side of the Olympics. I'm trying to coach two novices to fishing fundamentals while I'm trying to learn how to troll for salmon without a downrigger. There may not be a dinghy large enough for the three of us-laughing, yelling, giving orders, holding on to each other so we don't fall out, etc. Mind you, we all wear life vests.)
Just as we've got our rigs set up again, I see Pacific Dolphins jumping near INTREPID. I say: "Pull in your lines! We can't miss the show!" We buzz over to the chaos of 200 dolphins gathered together, probably diving for food. What an amazing event. The water was churning with their activity, the dolphins swimming so close to our boat we could touch them! Once they've left, we go back to INTREPID, a 15 pound Coho in hand and I fillet the fish while we cook our 8 crabs for dinner. Satiated with the delicious crab feast, on sensory overload and tired from the excitement, we make it early to bed.
The reason for Seaworld? Billy Procter is local legend who, like his father, was born here and has hunted, logged and fished these waters for over 70 years. He says that the creeks are so low that there is not enough scent in the water for the salmon to find the way to their spawning grounds. Also, there has been an explosion in the number of dolphins hunting in the area so the salmon head for the shallow water to escape them. The end result - Salmon Seaworld.
The reason for Seaworld? Billy Procter is local legend who, like his father, was born here and has hunted, logged and fished these waters for over 70 years. He says that the creeks are so low that there is not enough scent in the water for the salmon to find the way to their spawning grounds. Also, there has been an explosion in the number of dolphins hunting in the area so the salmon head for the shallow water to escape them. The end result - Salmon Seaworld.
Saturday: I'm up early thinking about those jumping salmon. After breakfast, we're off to catch more fish. . . Salmon Sea World is still on! This time we get Karen tricked out to catch a fish; she and Marni work the poles while I drive. Karen gets two nibbles, the second fish taking her lure. Marni gets a strike. . .never having played a fierce salmon before, I coach her through every phase and we end up with a 12 pounder in our boat. We are thrilled. I'm starting to fish with Marni driving while we watch a man pull in a 15 pounder with a fly rod (!). He wants us to take his catch, so we go pick up his 15-18 pounder. (Steve got me a weighing mechanism here in Port McNeill yesterday. . .I truly can't judge the size of these big fish). So now I have two fish to fillet and put in the freezer. . . and we've got to pick up the shrimp trap. We pull up anchor in Laura Bay and cruise to our shrimp pot to begin pulling up 500 feet of line. Marni and I trade the duty. We haul up about 40 BIG prawns and one BIG red octopus who doesn't want to get out of the shrimp basket and ends up anchoring himself to our swim step. What a struggle. . .but we send him back to the deep. . .and he answers with a big spray of red ink before he dives down.
Now we have shrimp to behead and cook. On we go to Kwatsi, an isolated marina where Anca and Max have raised their two children and made a life for themselves. By coincidence, the boat in front of us at the Kwatsi dock is called C SHARP. The skipper went to St. Olaf, graduating in '55. Karen and I graduated from St. Olaf in the late 60's. Think about it: a marina in the middle of nowhere with three graduates from St. Olaf College in Northfield, Minnesota. What are the chances? When we gather for the happy hour, we HAVE to sing the St. Olaf Fight Song to all who gather. We ate our fresh caught shrimp for lunch; for dinner it's fresh salmon grilled skin-side down. Delicious!
Sunday: The prettiest day of the three. . .we leave Kwatsi for a lovely tour of the Broughtons (and see another whale) on our way to the Pearce Islands. We're the only boat in our anchorage, where harbor seals entertain us. We tour the island in the dinghy at high tide, enjoy a quiet happy hour, then put steaks on the grill for our guests' final dinner in the Broughtons. We bask in the sun, using our new swim step as a place to stand while we hang our elbows on the aft ship gunnel and talk about how lucky we are to experience nature this way.
Monday: After a leisurely morning and a pancake breakfast, we return to Port McNeill's dock and check out the shops in Port McNeill. Karen and Marni leave at 12:00 remarking that the sunny, temperate temperatures and fresh air have spoiled them. With regret, they drive away, heading to Nanaimo where they take a ferry to Vancouver B.C., and a plane back to Chicago. They've eaten crab, shrimp and salmon, caught fresh from the sea. They've seen the beautiful islands of the Broughtons in three action-packed days. Indeed, they'll sleep soundly, dreaming of landing Coho salmon and fighting with a red-headed octupus.
Next? We've spent three wonderful days in Port McNeill and tomorrow we're off to the Sullivan Bay/Mackenzie Sound area, meeting friends (Seeker) around the 17th/18th of August. After that, we start a slow trek to the south, taking adventures where they find us.
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