Great Bear Rainforest (Part 8)

The first order of business the next day was Sherry's lesson in gumboot dancing. This is a type of dancing invented by South African miners, forbidden most forms and tools of self-expression, who used the rubber boots worn in the flooded gold mines as percussive musical instruments. Yours truly mastered the first of Sherry's three or four steps of increasing complexity though constant repetition, but regardless of skill level, we all had fun. Here Kate and Mary continue their practice.

Landing on our next beach we came across two grounded and deceased humboldt squid. They are sometimes found this far north when they are following an erratic warm current, but they inevitably die when the warm current disappears.

A short distance inland was an abandoned First Nations house, probably ceremonial but possibly residential. We had permission to visit the site with a few common sense restrictions, such as to limit ourselves to standing on the edge of the structure, and not to enter or cross it.

The posts had evolved a fascinating blend of texture and color out of layering, moisture, plant life, and time.

A short distance from the old house was a beach on the other side of the spit of land. This was obviously the side that accumulated windblown logs.

We spent quite a while on the beach, especially on the mud flats where we birdwatched and inspected all manner of small critters.

Sailing on, we encountered a squad of porpoises, or rather, they decided to check us out. They're fast and hard to get into a photo.

The weather gods smiled on Captain Ian (no sacrifices were made that I know of), and he was able to turn off the motor and cruise down Laredo Sound and Hecate Strait under sail power alone. The Island Roamer reached speeds as high as 7 knots, good for a passenger boat. Everybody basked in the sun and the breeze, although the swells might have caused some to reach for their Bonine.

We anchored behind Day Point Island and sadly began to pack our bags for the next day, departure day. But what a sunrise the next morning; it was an thrilling conclusion to an inspiring trip.

Tom stands by the mast in awe of the sun.

You can see the end of our journey in the distance. Goodbye, Great Bear Rainforest, and thank you very much.

Great Bear Rainforest (Part 7)

The next day started with an oscillating drizzle -- sometimes light, sometimes moderate. (It's a temperate rainforest, yes? Don't complain, sailor, just put on your raingear.) After pulling out from Hartley Bay the Island Roamer soon reached the southern end of Gil Island and the private research station, Cetacealab. We were treated to a presentation by Herman, and learned about their hydrophone-based research into resident and transient orca pods, orca calls, and the three dialect groups among the resident pods in that area. I highly recommend checking out the web site. Here's a snapshot of Hermann in the shadows behind Joan, along with Candy and Frieda (in the camo outfit).

Given that the rain was continuing, plan B was invoked (good trip leaders always have a plan B, and usually a plan C), and so the afternoon was spent in Barnard Harbor, close by to Gil Island, feasting our eyes on humpbacks that were breaching, tail slapping, and even occasionally spy-hopping. Seals frolicked among the whales without much concern for being smacked by an errant tail or flipper. (Apologies that some photos were taken through a rain-swept plastic screen. I'm a wimp when it comes to hauling the camera out in foul weather!)

 

 

Barnard Harbor is also home to the King Pacific Lodge, a floating luxury resort, which we admired from a distance.

The humpbacks seemed to love Barnard Harbor. As we departed we had two escorts close by the port side of the boat!

The rain diminished and the clouds began to disperse as we made our way down to Chapple Inlet to anchor for the night. The scenery had metamorphosed by the time we reached the inlet.

All hands on deck for the sunset, dinner will have to wait ...

Great Bear Rainforest (Part 6)

The next morning we were met by representatives of the Gitga'at First Nation, landed our zodiacs, and walked a short distance inland on Gribbell Island accompanied by guides Derek, Marvin, and Richard.

We were headed for an observation stand alongside a creek that is a favorite haunt of the spirit bears, as well as our first visitor, the regular black bear.

He wasn't too concerned about us.

Soon a spirit bear came long, snagged a salmon, and enjoyed his snack.

After scouting the creek for more, he headed upstream on the far bank.

Time melted away except for the softly increasing light. If you are there for two or three hours, what's the point in watching the clock? If your feet got tired, you could sit down for a moment, but you might miss something. Hermit thrushes, for instance. Fruit bars were passed around to pacify the stomach. We were able to ease up and put our attention at wide-angle, yet always ready to snap back. Sometimes the spirit bear is far away,

and sometimes he is close. Always take your binoculars.

Eventually the time came to rejoin the Island Roamer. That afternoon there were two humpback whales logging, sleeping on the surface with an occasional puff of breath. Ian killed the engine and we drifted with them.

Then they awoke and dove, leaving us thinking that, if they didn't swim too far away underwater, perhaps we would get to see a tail fluke. The pair breached (jumped completely out of the water) just a couple of boat lengths away. We were in awe. I was stunned and did not get a photo of them in the air, but look at the size and closeness of the dive splash ...

We tied up at Hartley Bay for the night, and to take on fresh water. Hartley Bay town is the major Gitga'at settlement, and has no roads, only boardwalks. Here's a picture of the church.

Joan and I took the boardwalk up the stream that flows into the bay; first stop, the fish hatchery.

Half an hour or so up the boardwalk is a small, shallow lake. Just before you reach the lake there is a shoe tree. Is it a home for lost soles, or a way of keeping your roots firmly planted at home?

When we returned to the Island Roamer, it was dinner time. Kate always put on delicious, imaginative spreads, despite the hobbit-sized galley.

What a day!

Great Bear Rainforest (Part 5)

By the afternoon it had started to rain (temperate rain forest) and we visited Butedale, an abandoned canning town that had been self-sufficient for electricity, with turbines powered by the waters coming down the mountain. Or, in a manner of speaking, Butedale visited us in the person of Lou, the caretaker, who among his other inventions generates a bit of electricity for himself by attaching auto alternators to the old turbine shafts (the turbines are long gone.) Lou came aboard for coffee and muffins and a good long chat.

The current owner of Butedale is holding out for a high price, so Lou will be there for at least another year. Occasionally boats anchor there (it's a great harbor) amidst the battered town, as these photos taken on our departure, when the rain let up, show.

Some time later, Captain Ian began steering the Island Roamer up to the edge of the channel, towards one of the many waterfalls.

Sherry takes a shower for the team.

We anchored for the night in Bishop Bay, site of a well-known hot spring. Half our group decided to don bathing suits under their rain gear for the short zodiac trip to the landing; half (including Joan and me) came in a second wave to check out the spring without actually getting into it. A brief boardwalk climb away, a stone building collected the output of the spring into a steamy pool. Decor was classic fishing tackle, and the inhabitants seemed happy. Another time, in daylight and without rain, I might try it. That night, I was content with my decision. Tomorrow a big day loomed -- watching for spirit bears up close at one of the best sites in British Columbia.

Great Bear Rainforest (Part 4)

After the morning's grizzly watching we sailed out of Mussel Estuary, and soon passed some Steller sea lions and elephant seals basking on a rock.

We cruised by Swanson's Bay, an abandoned and now mostly overgrown lumbering town. The BC coast has a number of defunct lumbering and canning towns that thrived before resource depletion set in, and before the timber industry learned to hide the worst of its clear-cutting.

There followed a spectacular afternoon of cruising, visiting waterfalls and pictographs, and we reached our anchorage in Khutze Inlet, near the mouth of the Khutze Estuary. The zodiac cruise departed as the sun grew low in the sky, and fog began to gently settle above the water.

 

Scrambling up the bank with the help of the crew, we set out on a nature walk to see the plants and terrain of the estuary. (We weren't wishing for a bear this time.) After beating through bushes and walking through calf-high water, we emerged on a meadow where the naturalists gave us learned discourse on the trees, grasses, and berries in that environment. By the time we got back into the zodiacs it was dark. Jupiter was rising above the mountains to the southeast, and the Milky Way was visible, which always results in slack-jawed wonder among us suburban types. Captain Ian seemed to know where he was going, even though the fog had thickened. At last, we saw the masts of the Island Roamer poking up out of the fog and we descended upon Kate and another scrumptious dinner.

The next morning we departed before the fog had completed lifted. Looking back, we were treated to a fog-bow.

A bear was spotted, headed downstream along the bar. He/she crossed over a small tributary and began foraging, bending branches to get at the berries, digging for tasty roots, and generally ignoring us. The photographers went wild. After a while, we went slightly further up the bar and landed. We found the bear's pawprints in the sand.

And we continued to watch the bear. Those of us with telephoto lenses continued to snap the bear.

 We explored the bar, upstream, away from the bear's dinner table. Here yours truly provides scale for some of the large items washed down.

I loved the appearance of some of the algae-colored rocks exposed by the low tide. 

As we returned to the zodiacs, bald eagles circled overhead, gaining altitude to cross over the mountains to the next inlet, and Ian hurried to take a cast of the bear's paw prints before the rising tide took them away.

The casts were guarded by Sherry as we zodiacked back to the boat. They made an impressive display in the salon. I wish I had put a ruler next to them for scale -- darn!