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A Fleeting Star

A Fleeting Star in Pelly Crossing, Yukon | Photo: Melanie Hackett

Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.  My feet rhythmically crush the crystals of ice on the forest floor as crimson sunlight reflects from their intricate architecture.  I lift my face towards the mist that is swirling from the depths of the granite canyon, and notice a rainbow emanating within it.  The thunderous rush of a stunning waterfall below vibrates inside my chest, and I can see through the emerald water to the very bottom.  I take a deep breath of the crisp, tangy forest air.  The phenomenal wonders of this place seep into my thoughts.  How precisely atoms are added to a growing ice crystal lattice.  How rays of golden sunshine are dispersed into the spectrum of wavelengths by the prism of mist to paint the splash of colour our eyes can pick up.  How gravity produces such a spectacular waterfall.  How geologic processes carved this bottomless canyon.  And even how all elements combined in such a fashion to cause a river of life to develop.  Yet surrounded by endless beauty, my heart is drowning with an immense sorrow.

I once knew a beautiful person.  Sheena was part of my competitive Irish Dancing team, and we travelled to many competitions throughout North America.  Tall, lanky, brunette, she was often partnered with me.  After finally medalling at the North American Championships in Ottawa, she moved to Australia to begin a new life that would lead her to graduating with honours and becoming a nurse.  She taught in Cambodia for a year, and was nominated as an executive of a non-profit organization that reduces health inequalities in rural and indigenous Australia and around the globe.  She then pursued her Master’s degree in speech pathology.  On the side, she was scouted to become a model and actress.  More importantly than her many accomplishments, I remember her as a wonderful friend and genuinely nice person.

Sheena and I in the dance team group photo
Sheena and I in the dance team group photo

Recently, she suddenly entered my mind.  I’m considering a trip to Australia in the spring, and was hoping to reconnect with her.  Though we hadn’t been in touch for a long while, I had this strange feeling that I should contact her, and couldn’t get her out of my mind.  Later, I received the news that around the same time, she was leaving her final exam for her Master’s degree, and was hit by a car mere steps away from her vehicle.  She passed away at the scene.

Whether my feeling was coincidence, or whether there was something more to it, I will never know for certain.  I like to think that her big heart and spirit filled every corner of our Earth as she passed, and that her short but wondrous presence on Earth will continue to paint rainbows in the hearts of many.

Sheena
Sheena

Several years ago, I myself was hit while bicycling.  The aftermath involved serious injuries that tore from me all of my passions, career paths, and even social networks, including Irish Dancing.  Years of physical and emotional recovery ensued.  In the midst of the darkest times in my recovery, I felt completely hopeless although intellectually I knew that it could easily have been much worse. I was the lucky one.  Eventually I reached a point where I could be grateful enough for everything I did still have to realize the beauty that exists in our world.  And occasionally, during the fleeting times that I had a glimpse into my pre-accident life, the beauty of life was vividly sharpened.

This unexpected tragedy is a harsh reminder that life is too short to be taken for granted and to spend it in sorrow.  Though one life is over, it continues for everyone left behind, including the driver of the car.  A life forever wracked with guilt, this life will likely also face seemingly unbearable challenges in the coming years.  It may never be in the hearts of those who loved Sheena to forgive such a devastating mistake, but the truth is it can happen to any one of us.  More than ever before, I am determined to make the most of my time and enjoy life fully in the wonders and the sorrows, and also to make an effort to bring happiness to others.  Life is but a fleeting falling star.  As the kids these days say, YOLO!  Does that mean I won’t feel sad? Of course not.  There exists an eternal and infinite sadness in my heart.  But it is through this very sadness that the beauty and preciousness of life shines through even more clearly.

It is my hope that through these words, anyone who is navigating through loss may find solace in the idea that the very loss has the potential to highlight the wonders of life both in the cherished memories, and in the time yet to come.

As I’m standing here, feeling the waterfall of tears plunging through the granite canyon, the mist off the water rises once more.  Catching the fluid rays of shimmering light it dances in the breeze before being carried away.  Is it just my imagination, or did I catch a brief glimpse of the sparkling rainbow of an Irish Dancing angel?

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From grief-stricken to a good time – Five tips to rise

In life, everyone suffers some kind of downfall from time to time whether it be the passing of a friend or disappoint arising from a setback in their career. However, what defines a person is never their losses, but how they recover and learn about themselves in the process. Obviously, this is easier said and done, requiring effort and commitment to come to terms with grief and rise above it to face the brighter future, but the five steps outlined below simplify the process and provides a starting place for people who feel lost in the world.

Firstly, understand it is natural to be upset, and know that everyone, at some point in time, will go through a similar experience. However, after a few days, strive to get your life back on track by reintegrating one routine every day to gain back some control and sense of normality. For example, going grocery shopping, browsing your favorite store, and meeting up with a friend for coffee are all viable options designed to dull the impact of grief. Be open, and accept help from others. It is difficult enough to deal with pain even without having to shoulder the burden alone.

To cope during the earlier days, distractions are necessary to prevent sinking into a deep, dark hole of despair and depression. Exercising, watching television in moderation, and working on a hobby are all viable options for quelling the overwhelming desire to mope. This is not to say reminiscing about the past should be avoided at all costs, but it should be limited to only short periods of time in safety and comfort. However, if the pain does bubble to the surface unexpectedly, acknowledge it and move on without making a big fuss.

As many may already know, talking about loss is an important step on the road to recovery. It is still unacceptable to rant to your barista or post a five mile long status on Facebook, but having a chat with a few close friends can provide some relief. Closing in and detaching from the people who care is one of the most harmful actions you can take. Refusing to share with anyone is a sign of denial, which can slow down the recovery process and present barriers to future social interactions.

Although this may sound counterintuitive, do not only think of the good times. Remembering a friend’s laughter and companionship or how a supervisor once bought gourmet coffee for everyone at the office is normal and pleasant, but does nothing in the long run. To effectively deal with grief, your viewpoint needs to be at least somewhat impartial, taking into account the bad as well. Some negativity regarding your past can alleviate some of the feelings of losing something holy, allowing you to turn the rose-colored glasses towards the future instead.

Finally, believe in that you will overcome this hurdle, and find footing again in the very near future. Appreciate whatever glimpses of happiness that arise, without guilt or allowing judgment to register. It is genuinely all about perspective, with optimism always winning in the race towards recovery and living to the fullest once again. With the right attitude and an honest acknowledgment of pain with a reflective and open mind, the world will grow brighter in no time.

Though this process can be complex and difficult, the first step is always finding the courage and will to follow through with it in order to truly live once again. Grief is definitely unpleasant, but it is also a fact of life and denial of it will only aggravate the situation. Instead, take it in stride, learn from the experience, and rise up to reach the sky of happiness once again.

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The Adventures of The Audrey Eleanor- Part 12

Captain Rick Cousins cleans a grey cod on the swimming grid (most of this grid gets ripped off in the rocks in the next story “Ivory Island) of the Audrey Eleanor. The calm before the storm, dinner will soon be served up fresh from the sea.

Milbank Sound

We spend an uneasy night tucked slightly behind Aurther Island in Mathieson Channel. The hook is dropped, our only barricade from a Sou’ easter is a small log boom. There has been no defining wind direction for the past few weeks; just a continual blow with ratings from storm to small vessel warnings on the weather channel. Other than my fears of a blow up, the night has been uneventful. The anchor is pulled and we look forward to an easy cruise into Shearwater, which is beside Bella Bella, on the inside passage of B.C., Canada. A small chop on the sea is riffles from the local breeze and nothing more. If there were swells it would indicate that there are big seas brewing further out.

Audrey is coming into view of Lady Douglas Island when we notice flashing lights in the sky in front of us. Very unusual…the Captain, who once flew his own plane, is excited that this Beaver is coming in so close to say good morning. I am the cautious one, this Beaver is just slightly above our masthead light and he is flashing his landing lights and anything else that he can light up to catch our attention.

A slight dip of the wings means hello to me. This pilot is going out of his way to get his message across. His engines roar over the saloon, he continues to wag his wings and flash his landing gear; he quickly gains altitude and disappears towards the north. I say to the Captain that I believe we have just received a warning. The Captain reminds me that we are very protected in Mathieson Channel our only exposure to the open ocean will be when we round Lady Douglas Island. There is only a very few miles until we can tuck into Reid Channel, it will be a piece of cake. I feel better, how bad can it be?

It’s a relatively narrow channel between Lady Douglas and Lake Islands; lots of small hazardous rocks and islands narrow the passage down even further. There is no quick turn around space. Audrey is 54’ in length with a 13’ beam (width) at her widest point, she is cigar shaped. With her displacement hull she cuts through the waves rather than rides them, having a narrow beam means that she doesn’t respond well to being hit broadside by rough seas, in other words if we have to take it on the beam she could broach or fall on her side into the trough of the sea. I really don’t like when this happens, it truly makes your heart stop.

We’ve come between Lady Douglas and Lake Islands; Cecilia Island is not far off our portside. Squeezing between Lake Island and a large rock to our starboard side we now know why the plane was trying to warn us. This is a very shallow area which causes the waves to basically bounce back off of the ocean floor creating standing waves, we are in them, they are 14’ high…WE CAN NOT TURN AROUND!

These monsters are threatening to roll us up on the rocks. The Captains only alternative is to take us out to sea. We have to take these waves head on so as to avoid any sideways contact that will roll us side over side until we smash on the reef. We head out into the open ocean, the waves are building, they are huge, chairs that we use at the chart table are rolling on the floor and smashing against the walls. Books are falling from the shelves, cupboard doors are slamming back and forth and cans and pots are colliding creating a terrible noise, my plants and window herb garden has fallen and smashed on the floor.

I am hanging onto a small piece of wood trim that runs along the dash with my fingertips and trying to wedge myself against the chart table so that I don’t end up on the floor rolling around with the chairs.

My head is hanging down below the dash and I am praying quietly, this is terror beyond anything that I ever want to do again. The huge waves are smashing against the hull and Audrey shudders with the impact. Her ribs are being battered as she fights the seas and we can hear her moan with the effort of staying afloat. I raise my head just as I hear the Captain yell “Holy…,” I have known this man for 32 years and this is the first time that I’ve ever seen him afraid; I know for sure we won’t make it.

A giant wave smashes directly against the almost sixty-year-old front window; it cannot withstand that kind of impact again. Once the window smashes out it will only take a few minutes for us to start to take on water. The cold black sea will rush in and swamp us.

The Captain looks at me for a moment, “I have to try something that I’ve never done before,” he yells, ‘hang on!” A huge wave slams into the bow; the water is thrown way up and over the flying bridge. Fifty four feet of boat is racing skyward, she’s dancing on her stern and then we plummet down into the trough, upward again, with water crashing out the view from the window, speeding downward toward the sea bed, we are a submarine.

I hear the Captain counting “one, two, three…I understand. Generally the seventh wave is the biggest, he is looking for the biggest wave! When we top the wave he will try to turn us on the crest before we slide into the trough again. If he doesn’t make it we will be hit broadside and we will be lost forever. The Audrey Eleanor and crew will be rolled over and over ground and pummelled into the bottom of this merciless ocean.

We crest a huge wave, and manage a quick look between us; you hope you’ve been able to convey the things that you should have said to each other plus good-bye in that split second. There may never be a chance to say the unsaid, this could be our final moments on earth, the time has come and gone to say what needs saying, the Captain yells “hang on!”

He throws one engine in forward and one in reverse, pours the diesel to the engines and we begin to pivot on the top of a giant wave. In slow motion she begins her turn, the bow is heading downward and we charge back down into the trough, sound has been sucked out of the air, it feels like we are in a vacuum.

We are heading back toward land on a following sea. Remember what I said about these waters being really shallow, Audrey is now fighting to climb a mountain of water in front of her and the surge bearing down from behind is threatening to break onto our stern deck, and crush us. We are worried that we will bottom out in the trough.

I stand on the back deck watching as this Grande lady fights to climb this wall of ocean. The mountain of water is 20’ high. Her engines are pounding like double heartbeats; the props churn in the wave. Twin props scream as the wall of water lifts and exposes them. She fights, she screams and struggles to lift us up to the crest of the next wave, she does it, she does it! She carries us forward, we truly have made it. The Captain surfs us toward land, safety and Reid Channel.

It is only 9 a.m., what a morning! This adventure happened before our morning coffee. Reid Channel is narrow, protected and the waters are calm. It is impossible to believe that minutes ago we were fighting for our lives, now we are slowly cruising into this beautiful marine park. There are books mixed in with the dirt and broken plants that validate we actually just smashed our way through mountains of water.

We had thought to check out Oliver Cove on our way by, the diving is supposed to be great, but it is still early in the day. The thought of a little socializing and fresh food in Shearwater is drawing us out into the open sea again. We will have to stick our noses out past Ivory Island and into Sea Forth Channel, but what the heck; a person can only have one really horrific experience on the ocean in one-day right?? Besides as the Captain likes to say “God Hates a Coward”, this storey will be continued in the next Adventure of The Audrey Eleanor, ‘Ivory Island’.

 

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The Adventures of The Audrey Eleanor- Part 12

Captain Rick Cousins cleans a grey cod on the swimming grid (most of this grid gets ripped off in the rocks in the next story “Ivory Island) of the Audrey Eleanor. The calm before the storm, dinner will soon be served up fresh from the sea.

Milbank Sound

We spend an uneasy night tucked slightly behind Aurther Island in Mathieson Channel. The hook is dropped, our only barricade from a Sou’ easter is a small log boom. There has been no defining wind direction for the past few weeks; just a continual blow with ratings from storm to small vessel warnings on the weather channel. Other than my fears of a blow up, the night has been uneventful. The anchor is pulled and we look forward to an easy cruise into Shearwater, which is beside Bella Bella, on the inside passage of B.C., Canada. A small chop on the sea is riffles from the local breeze and nothing more. If there were swells it would indicate that there are big seas brewing further out.

Audrey is coming into view of Lady Douglas Island when we notice flashing lights in the sky in front of us. Very unusual…the Captain, who once flew his own plane, is excited that this Beaver is coming in so close to say good morning. I am the cautious one, this Beaver is just slightly above our masthead light and he is flashing his landing lights and anything else that he can light up to catch our attention.

A slight dip of the wings means hello to me. This pilot is going out of his way to get his message across. His engines roar over the saloon, he continues to wag his wings and flash his landing gear; he quickly gains altitude and disappears towards the north. I say to the Captain that I believe we have just received a warning. The Captain reminds me that we are very protected in Mathieson Channel our only exposure to the open ocean will be when we round Lady Douglas Island. There is only a very few miles until we can tuck into Reid Channel, it will be a piece of cake. I feel better, how bad can it be?

It’s a relatively narrow channel between Lady Douglas and Lake Islands; lots of small hazardous rocks and islands narrow the passage down even further. There is no quick turn around space. Audrey is 54’ in length with a 13’ beam (width) at her widest point, she is cigar shaped. With her displacement hull she cuts through the waves rather than rides them, having a narrow beam means that she doesn’t respond well to being hit broadside by rough seas, in other words if we have to take it on the beam she could broach or fall on her side into the trough of the sea. I really don’t like when this happens, it truly makes your heart stop.

We’ve come between Lady Douglas and Lake Islands; Cecilia Island is not far off our portside. Squeezing between Lake Island and a large rock to our starboard side we now know why the plane was trying to warn us. This is a very shallow area which causes the waves to basically bounce back off of the ocean floor creating standing waves, we are in them, they are 14’ high…WE CAN NOT TURN AROUND!

These monsters are threatening to roll us up on the rocks. The Captains only alternative is to take us out to sea. We have to take these waves head on so as to avoid any sideways contact that will roll us side over side until we smash on the reef. We head out into the open ocean, the waves are building, they are huge, chairs that we use at the chart table are rolling on the floor and smashing against the walls. Books are falling from the shelves, cupboard doors are slamming back and forth and cans and pots are colliding creating a terrible noise, my plants and window herb garden has fallen and smashed on the floor.

I am hanging onto a small piece of wood trim that runs along the dash with my fingertips and trying to wedge myself against the chart table so that I don’t end up on the floor rolling around with the chairs.

My head is hanging down below the dash and I am praying quietly, this is terror beyond anything that I ever want to do again. The huge waves are smashing against the hull and Audrey shudders with the impact. Her ribs are being battered as she fights the seas and we can hear her moan with the effort of staying afloat. I raise my head just as I hear the Captain yell “Holy…,” I have known this man for 32 years and this is the first time that I’ve ever seen him afraid; I know for sure we won’t make it.

A giant wave smashes directly against the almost sixty-year-old front window; it cannot withstand that kind of impact again. Once the window smashes out it will only take a few minutes for us to start to take on water. The cold black sea will rush in and swamp us.

The Captain looks at me for a moment, “I have to try something that I’ve never done before,” he yells, ‘hang on!” A huge wave slams into the bow; the water is thrown way up and over the flying bridge. Fifty four feet of boat is racing skyward, she’s dancing on her stern and then we plummet down into the trough, upward again, with water crashing out the view from the window, speeding downward toward the sea bed, we are a submarine.

I hear the Captain counting “one, two, three…I understand. Generally the seventh wave is the biggest, he is looking for the biggest wave! When we top the wave he will try to turn us on the crest before we slide into the trough again. If he doesn’t make it we will be hit broadside and we will be lost forever. The Audrey Eleanor and crew will be rolled over and over ground and pummelled into the bottom of this merciless ocean.

We crest a huge wave, and manage a quick look between us; you hope you’ve been able to convey the things that you should have said to each other plus good-bye in that split second. There may never be a chance to say the unsaid, this could be our final moments on earth, the time has come and gone to say what needs saying, the Captain yells “hang on!”

He throws one engine in forward and one in reverse, pours the diesel to the engines and we begin to pivot on the top of a giant wave. In slow motion she begins her turn, the bow is heading downward and we charge back down into the trough, sound has been sucked out of the air, it feels like we are in a vacuum.

We are heading back toward land on a following sea. Remember what I said about these waters being really shallow, Audrey is now fighting to climb a mountain of water in front of her and the surge bearing down from behind is threatening to break onto our stern deck, and crush us. We are worried that we will bottom out in the trough.

I stand on the back deck watching as this Grande lady fights to climb this wall of ocean. The mountain of water is 20’ high. Her engines are pounding like double heartbeats; the props churn in the wave. Twin props scream as the wall of water lifts and exposes them. She fights, she screams and struggles to lift us up to the crest of the next wave, she does it, she does it! She carries us forward, we truly have made it. The Captain surfs us toward land, safety and Reid Channel.

It is only 9 a.m., what a morning! This adventure happened before our morning coffee. Reid Channel is narrow, protected and the waters are calm. It is impossible to believe that minutes ago we were fighting for our lives, now we are slowly cruising into this beautiful marine park. There are books mixed in with the dirt and broken plants that validate we actually just smashed our way through mountains of water.

We had thought to check out Oliver Cove on our way by, the diving is supposed to be great, but it is still early in the day. The thought of a little socializing and fresh food in Shearwater is drawing us out into the open sea again. We will have to stick our noses out past Ivory Island and into Sea Forth Channel, but what the heck; a person can only have one really horrific experience on the ocean in one-day right?? Besides as the Captain likes to say “God Hates a Coward”, this storey will be continued in the next Adventure of The Audrey Eleanor, ‘Ivory Island’.

 

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The Adventures of The Audrey Eleanor- Part 12

Captain Rick Cousins cleans a grey cod on the swimming grid (most of this grid gets ripped off in the rocks in the next story “Ivory Island) of the Audrey Eleanor. The calm before the storm, dinner will soon be served up fresh from the sea.

Milbank Sound

We spend an uneasy night tucked slightly behind Aurther Island in Mathieson Channel. The hook is dropped, our only barricade from a Sou’ easter is a small log boom. There has been no defining wind direction for the past few weeks; just a continual blow with ratings from storm to small vessel warnings on the weather channel. Other than my fears of a blow up, the night has been uneventful. The anchor is pulled and we look forward to an easy cruise into Shearwater, which is beside Bella Bella, on the inside passage of B.C., Canada. A small chop on the sea is riffles from the local breeze and nothing more. If there were swells it would indicate that there are big seas brewing further out.

Audrey is coming into view of Lady Douglas Island when we notice flashing lights in the sky in front of us. Very unusual…the Captain, who once flew his own plane, is excited that this Beaver is coming in so close to say good morning. I am the cautious one, this Beaver is just slightly above our masthead light and he is flashing his landing lights and anything else that he can light up to catch our attention.

A slight dip of the wings means hello to me. This pilot is going out of his way to get his message across. His engines roar over the saloon, he continues to wag his wings and flash his landing gear; he quickly gains altitude and disappears towards the north. I say to the Captain that I believe we have just received a warning. The Captain reminds me that we are very protected in Mathieson Channel our only exposure to the open ocean will be when we round Lady Douglas Island. There is only a very few miles until we can tuck into Reid Channel, it will be a piece of cake. I feel better, how bad can it be?

It’s a relatively narrow channel between Lady Douglas and Lake Islands; lots of small hazardous rocks and islands narrow the passage down even further. There is no quick turn around space. Audrey is 54’ in length with a 13’ beam (width) at her widest point, she is cigar shaped. With her displacement hull she cuts through the waves rather than rides them, having a narrow beam means that she doesn’t respond well to being hit broadside by rough seas, in other words if we have to take it on the beam she could broach or fall on her side into the trough of the sea. I really don’t like when this happens, it truly makes your heart stop.

We’ve come between Lady Douglas and Lake Islands; Cecilia Island is not far off our portside. Squeezing between Lake Island and a large rock to our starboard side we now know why the plane was trying to warn us. This is a very shallow area which causes the waves to basically bounce back off of the ocean floor creating standing waves, we are in them, they are 14’ high…WE CAN NOT TURN AROUND!

These monsters are threatening to roll us up on the rocks. The Captains only alternative is to take us out to sea. We have to take these waves head on so as to avoid any sideways contact that will roll us side over side until we smash on the reef. We head out into the open ocean, the waves are building, they are huge, chairs that we use at the chart table are rolling on the floor and smashing against the walls. Books are falling from the shelves, cupboard doors are slamming back and forth and cans and pots are colliding creating a terrible noise, my plants and window herb garden has fallen and smashed on the floor.

I am hanging onto a small piece of wood trim that runs along the dash with my fingertips and trying to wedge myself against the chart table so that I don’t end up on the floor rolling around with the chairs.

My head is hanging down below the dash and I am praying quietly, this is terror beyond anything that I ever want to do again. The huge waves are smashing against the hull and Audrey shudders with the impact. Her ribs are being battered as she fights the seas and we can hear her moan with the effort of staying afloat. I raise my head just as I hear the Captain yell “Holy…,” I have known this man for 32 years and this is the first time that I’ve ever seen him afraid; I know for sure we won’t make it.

A giant wave smashes directly against the almost sixty-year-old front window; it cannot withstand that kind of impact again. Once the window smashes out it will only take a few minutes for us to start to take on water. The cold black sea will rush in and swamp us.

The Captain looks at me for a moment, “I have to try something that I’ve never done before,” he yells, ‘hang on!” A huge wave slams into the bow; the water is thrown way up and over the flying bridge. Fifty four feet of boat is racing skyward, she’s dancing on her stern and then we plummet down into the trough, upward again, with water crashing out the view from the window, speeding downward toward the sea bed, we are a submarine.

I hear the Captain counting “one, two, three…I understand. Generally the seventh wave is the biggest, he is looking for the biggest wave! When we top the wave he will try to turn us on the crest before we slide into the trough again. If he doesn’t make it we will be hit broadside and we will be lost forever. The Audrey Eleanor and crew will be rolled over and over ground and pummelled into the bottom of this merciless ocean.

We crest a huge wave, and manage a quick look between us; you hope you’ve been able to convey the things that you should have said to each other plus good-bye in that split second. There may never be a chance to say the unsaid, this could be our final moments on earth, the time has come and gone to say what needs saying, the Captain yells “hang on!”

He throws one engine in forward and one in reverse, pours the diesel to the engines and we begin to pivot on the top of a giant wave. In slow motion she begins her turn, the bow is heading downward and we charge back down into the trough, sound has been sucked out of the air, it feels like we are in a vacuum.

We are heading back toward land on a following sea. Remember what I said about these waters being really shallow, Audrey is now fighting to climb a mountain of water in front of her and the surge bearing down from behind is threatening to break onto our stern deck, and crush us. We are worried that we will bottom out in the trough.

I stand on the back deck watching as this Grande lady fights to climb this wall of ocean. The mountain of water is 20’ high. Her engines are pounding like double heartbeats; the props churn in the wave. Twin props scream as the wall of water lifts and exposes them. She fights, she screams and struggles to lift us up to the crest of the next wave, she does it, she does it! She carries us forward, we truly have made it. The Captain surfs us toward land, safety and Reid Channel.

It is only 9 a.m., what a morning! This adventure happened before our morning coffee. Reid Channel is narrow, protected and the waters are calm. It is impossible to believe that minutes ago we were fighting for our lives, now we are slowly cruising into this beautiful marine park. There are books mixed in with the dirt and broken plants that validate we actually just smashed our way through mountains of water.

We had thought to check out Oliver Cove on our way by, the diving is supposed to be great, but it is still early in the day. The thought of a little socializing and fresh food in Shearwater is drawing us out into the open sea again. We will have to stick our noses out past Ivory Island and into Sea Forth Channel, but what the heck; a person can only have one really horrific experience on the ocean in one-day right?? Besides as the Captain likes to say “God Hates a Coward”, this storey will be continued in the next Adventure of The Audrey Eleanor, ‘Ivory Island’.

 

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The Adventures of The Audrey Eleanor- Part 11

Whales serenade us as we lounge in the natural hot springs of Bishop Bay near Kitimat, B.C.

Loose Lines Sink Ships

…we streak (literally) towards the dock. Waves crash over us and the dock as we scramble and fall trying to reach the Audrey Eleanor.

Grenville Channel, south of Prince Rupert, is deep, dark, long and narrow. Without a north wind, it is well protected. With the north wind a-blowing you are in a wind funnel from hell.

Fortunately there are no winds as we cruise down its narrow depths at the end of October. The fog has rolled in, covering the mountains and spilling over to fill the channels. Audrey’s twin Perkin diesel engines rumble in deep rhythm, the muffled sound echoes back off of the steep mountain walls. The fog parts just when we need it to. I am the bow rider, holding onto the short rail with my ears cocked for sounds of other muffled engines. If we come to an abrupt stop I will flip over the rail and plop into the black water.

We are running with our radar on, but the radar does not see all. Wooden boats often place metal plates on masts or bows as a salute to the scanners that prefer to identify objects made of metal. Radar sometimes misses wooden boats.

Grenville Channel opens up onto Gil Island. We shut the engines down in respect and silently cruise over the face of the ocean where the Queen of the North is laying still and quiet on the bottom of this very cold and black sea. The Audrey Eleanor and crew are so very much smaller than the Queen of the North, a B.C. ferry, that struck Gil Island in March 2006 killing a man and a woman.

The Queen of the North lies on the dark bottom of the Ocean floor about 427 meters below us, we feel very insignificant. We have roughly 650 kilometers to travel in this unpredictable month of storms.

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, a song by Gordon Lightfoot commemorating the ships tragic 1975 sinking in Lake Superior, is playing over and over in my mind. I am praying that the storms of November don’t try to out do the storms of October that have battered us since we left Ketchikan Alaska.

Our radio is giving us grief again, this never happens while we are in a port. We changed our antennae in Ketchikan, but our reception is still sketchy at best.

We swing to portside and motor past Hartley Bay, a native village that helped to save most of the people off of the Queen of the North. Hartley Bay responded to the distress call on March 21 just before midnight. The Queen of the North took about an hour to sink and the actual time is debated as 12:25 a.m. or 12:43 on March 22, 2006. Fisherman with small fishing boats and people with recreational boats braved the black night and howling winds of up to seventy five Kilometers per hours to save the people off of the ferry.

Hartley Bay is a picturesque village with a wild mountain backdrop that reminds me of the villages on the McKenzie River N.W.T. that I grew up in. (See the White Girl Series)

A twin Otter glides in behind us for water landing in front of the village. The Captain now swings us to starboard and we head up Douglas Channel toward Bishop Bay Hot springs.

It’s a sign. Streaks of sunshine suddenly break through the cloud cover and the shattered rays feel like Sunday morning in a mountainous cathedral. God rays I call them, we have not seen the sun in weeks.

Thank you Goddess, we are involved in divine intervention on the top deck, steering Audrey from the flying bridge. Warmth from the sun penetrates wet clothes; we steam a bit as we pass beneath unbelievable double rainbows. Spirits are carried upward with the steam wrapped in smiles of thankfulness

Bishop Bay comes into view. The tide is high so it takes a few minutes for the little house at the springs to come into sight. Whales are spouting and singing all around us, the sea is flat calm. This is magic, this is heaven on earth and we cannot believe what we are experiencing, all of this just a few miles from Kitimat, B.C.

A fifteen-foot fishing boat is tied to the small dock. The radio onboard the fishing boat is barking but there is no sign of the Captain or crew. Bishop Bay Hot Springs is a five-minute jaunt from the dock were we have secured our ship. We have walked down to the raised camping area and made lots of noise hoping to rouse the crew of the empty fish boat. No one responds, no one is in sight.

While we look forward to new conversation, the plan is to spend the afternoon bare naked in the hot springs with a bottle of cold white wine being serenaded by the sirens of the deep, the grey whales. Where is that crew is!

Thoughts of a hot bath over come modesty; we strip down and creep into the hot water inside the hut. We have a full sized shower onboard the Audrey Eleanor, while the 25-gallon hot water tank makes sure you leave clean, there is nothing left over for luxury. And lets face it; there is nothing that can replace being fully submerged in clean hot water. Moist heat penetrates damp, cold bodies and feels so very good.

A concrete hut houses the main body of the hot springs. It is built over the pool and encompasses a natural rock. A rope is suspended from the ceiling, which enables you to swing through the pool. Past crews have left their mark by registering the names of MVs (motor vessels) and sailboats on the concrete walls.

My wine glass sits in one of the windows slits. Narrow cuts in the hut allow for limited peeps into the outside world. Through the steam from the hot springs we see that a steady rain has begun. Suddenly torrential rain begins to pound on the tin roof; this is rather romantic as we settle deeper into the beautiful hot water, sipping the very good white wine, in real glass no less.

Something has changed, this is not so romantic anymore, the wind has come up. A peek through the small windows reveals a sideways rain en-route and presenting itself as a solid wall of back. The empty fishing boat has vanished. With winds coming up fiercely the waves are being thrown over the top of the dock and slamming hard on the beam of the Audrey Eleanor.

We streak (literally) toward the dock trying to pull on soggy clothes while we slip and slide naked in cold muck. A ramp that accesses the dock is twisting sideways and threatening to dislocate itself from the main body of the dock. Waves are crashing over the dock, and drenching us as we try to physically reach out and grab the Audrey Eleanor.

Remember the rays of sunshine and calm waters that we arrived on? Well we had tied our ship accordingly. All of our lines had been tied too loosely they are now stretched taut in the wind and have put Audrey totally out of our reach and allow no access.

Trying to pull a 30 tone wooden yacht broadside to the wind is mostly impossible. We hang on to the lines waiting for a lull in the storm to get close enough so one of us can jump aboard. Someone has to be aboard our precious ship if this dock decides to leave with her still attached.

Waves are staccato shot gunning burst of grey seawater through the cracks in the dock. This is serious; the dock is separating from the ramp. Enough, the Captain decides to walk the line like a tightrope walker and jumps the last few feet to land on the bow. How does he do shit like that? I am glad that he is the one aboard; he deals with the engines way better than I do.

Of course the wind dies down once he has secured the ship. Someone flips the switch, the light comes back on, god rays split the clouds and fog once again in their brilliance. Whales assume their songs with a deep resonation that vibrates mountains, boat hulls and bones. Echo’s off the deep green peaks give us whale celebration in stereo.

Soaking wet, mud splattered and mostly naked, we look at each other and laugh. Lots of a bottle of wine still sits back in the hut at the hot springs, we can jump back into the hot water to wash our clothes and ourselves.

We settle back in the open area in front of the hut, we now know that we have the Bay to ourselves. Dusk paints a pale pink sky that slowly climbs over the silver grey of the clouds. A spout of water blown high into the air by a whale breaks the solitude. They grow quiet with the approach of night in this wondrous place that man has not managed to decimate.

P.S. For a week the Canadian Coast Guard has been calling Securite’ on the radio searching for a missing person. We did not talk to the crew on the fish boat, which was registered out of Vancouver. People in isolated places tend to be very friendly; your life can depend on it. The village of Hartley Bay has demonstrated this when they rescued the passengers off of the Queen of the North. The Captain of the fishing boat was not feeling very social; we wondered if this was the boat that the Coast Guard was looking for. Join us soon for another ADVENTURE OF THE AUDREY ELEANOR.

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The Adventures of The Audrey Eleanor- Part 10

Mice in The Hice

Mice in The Hice

We are docked in Prince Rupert, B.C. It feels great to be back in Canadian waters.  Audrey has been de-registered in record time thanks to Sheila (she is amazing) and we are once again Canadian registered with our home Port being Whitehorse, Yukon Territory.  We were never boarded by the U.S. homeland security, but the threat was always there like a heavy, very oppressive weight hovering over our bow. There is something about 18 year old boys with 50 calibre machine guns at their disposal that makes us really nervous. (The homeland security team in Alaska)

“Audrey Eleanor” had called Prince Rupert home for ten years prior to us taking her north to Haines, Alaska. Her former owners Blake and Amy along with old admirers showed up for a general inspection. The beer and yarns flow thick and fast. (We had to shovel her out the next day, the B.S. levels were high)  It was a great homecoming for the grand old lady after a two-year absence. We reluctantly leave our moorage at the Cow Bay docks in Prince Rupert and disappear with muffled engines into drizzle and fog.

As we motored away little did we know that we had acquired a stowaway who would drive us to the depths of despair.  He is darkly handsome, short and round with glossy black fur and an exceptionally long tail.  The little bugger is everywhere.  Our rule is that we have enough dry and canned goods aboard to last a month.  I have sprout seeds to provide live green stuff, we also experiment with sea asparagus and seaweeds and supplement some of these strange “greens” as the Captain refers to them with fish and crab.  Of course you sometimes come across a little corner store at the end of a falling down dock, which has vegetables lingering in bins that no one else wants, this is why they are still here of course.  These tiny supply stores can be miles in between nowhere.

His trail of red lentils gives him away.  It’s the strangest thing… to see trails of red lentils appearing and disappearing through out the boat. Then beautiful white toilet paper flowers began to show up in the dresser drawers and in closets. These kind of white flowers you sometimes see along the banks of the Yukon River (the toilet paper kind).  These ones are the nest type though.

One of the few things we do not have on board is mice or rattraps.  We are three hours out of Prince Rupert and not about to let a little mouse drive us back to port.  The Captain reverts back to his days of trapping and life is exciting.  There are water buckets set up with little ramps and string lines strung across the mouths of buckets to rotating bait…none of this is working.

Three days of mouse may not seem like a long time, but we are up close and very personal here…he scratches around at night, we can hear him under our berth, I start to think that I can hear him breathing. He has destroyed a month’s worth of beans, rice and a whole extra large bag of lime-flavoured nacho chips has simply vanished.  He leaves the empty bag as if to say in your face people.

When your time comes, your time comes.  The Captain gets up early and makes his way to the head (toilet) to find an extremely exhausted mouse swimming laps in the toilet bowl.  There is no sympathy; the intruder is immediately pinched by his long tail and lopped through the air, off the stern of the boat and he hits the water with a plop.  The crew and Captain feel a great sense of relief and a fish receives an early breakfast.  We are mouse free!!

The weather has been terrible so we are now sleeping up in the saloon on the floor.  We have better visibility up here.  I roll over on the mattress and look down through the focscle to the forward head. You can imagine my horror when I catch a glimpse of a very, very fat furry butt diving into a crevice in the wall.  This for sure is Mrs. Mouse and she looks like she will deliver a horde of lentil munchers at any moment.

If we don’t catch her before all of those babies are born, we will have to bring Audrey up on the hard and de-mouse her with some nasty chemical type stuff.  My theory about killer chemicals for rodents and bug sprays is, if it kills them it will kill us.  We may be bigger, but it will only take a little longer. To take a 30 tonne yacht up on the hard (land) is extremely expensive.  Regardless, there are no facilities in this remote area to handle us.  We would have had to live with the mouse infestation for two weeks or more, depending on the weather.

If Mr. Mouse was difficult to catch, Mrs. Mouse makes him look like an amateur.  She becomes bold enough to run over us as we try to sleep in the saloon.  I have to sleep with my head under the blankets, I am afraid that she will get caught in my hair.  The stress of her invasion is driving us crazy.  We are doing the sea going version of caddy shack.  I am beginning to appreciate that we don’t have a gun.  While I would not miss the mouse I would be concerned about a hole being blasted in the hull.  The Captain has had enough.

She calmly enjoys our peanut butter bait every evening and continues to build toilet paper nests in the hold, in the galley (closer to the peanut butter bait) the stash of toilet paper is almost depleted…things are getting serious.  She does not forget however, to leave her lovely little black offerings everywhere that she has been.  We are at our wits end.

Necessity IS the mother of invention.  Simultaneously we yell “the heads!”  The Captain smears a 2”x 2” piece of blue Styrofoam with the last of the peanut butter.  The bait gets set afloat in the head.   Well, my goodness gracious if Mrs. Mouse doesn’t fall into the same trap as her husband, we find her swimming exhausted in the head the next morning.  Without hesitation she is lopped off the stern of the boat as well and another fish is fed.  If anyone for one second feels any sympathy for this terrorizing critter, you should live with mice in your hice!

P.S. a young Inuit girl that I went to school with in Kugluktuk insisted that if mice was plural for mouse, then hice had to be plural for house, you couldn’t have one without the other.  People in the house were also a cause for it to be plural.  It has stuck in my head.  Her English was much better than my Inuktituk.

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The Adventures of The Audrey Eleanor- Part 9

Nosing into the rocky shoreline, I am to fill our water jugs with this wildly fresh water

Tracey Arm channel of icebergs

Word has gotten out that Tracey Arm rivals Glacier Bay for magnificent glaciers and stunning scenery. The ice walls calve and collapse into the ocean with a force that creates huge resounding waves. Waves tinkle the neon blue icebergs like giant ice cubes mingling with new friends in a crystal glass. This solid granite canyon must have been created when the earth experienced an extreme upheaval and the rock cracked like a hard-boiled egg to expose wide white bands of contrasting colour that offset the milky green water. This is the ultimate in exterior design.

Tracey Arm is south of Juneau, Alaska by approximately 50 K. Icebergs ranging from barely noticeable (bergies) to spectacular glistening jewels guard the entrance to Tracy Arm. Navigation is difficult because the ice can obscure the range markers at the entrance, or solid blue crystals block the pathway, “Bergs or bergies” do not move readily.

At low tide the whole procedure becomes quite interesting as swirls and tidal rips develop in the sea and mountains of ice sway in the current, intent on blocking your route…while we have had to do some tricky navigating to get inside, it is worth it.

Traffic has increased since we first explored this channel; the cruise ships now navigate the rock canyons. Depending on the year, the icebergs can limit your access up the 30 K channel and tides of course affect everything.

We are making our way south this time and cannot resist trying once again to get a look at Sawyer Glacier. A past attempt to reach the end of the arm and see the glacier had been thwarted by a flotilla of icebergs at the 10 K range, the tides aren’t running in our favour this time either, but what the heck, and as I’m sure you know by now “God hates a coward”.

The anchor gets dropped in the little bay in the mouth of the arm. There are several boats here this time. A 45’ sailboat has tied to the trees along the shore and looks to be about 4’ away from the sheer rock edge. It is difficult to anchor with a combination of baby icebergs and boats all crowding for the limited space. This is quite a difference from the last time we visited, when we were the sole occupants in the cove. From my galley window I can see a little iceberg that’s attempting to rub shoulders with Audrey, it’s fairly small and is floating, so no worries. The little iceberg needs to worry; the Captain has decided that he wants to fill the ice coolers with berg ice. This ice is compressed, ancient and lasts way longer than any ice we can buy or make, it makes such a beautiful blue contrast against red crab.

We are a few days from Petersburg and will stock up on King crab when we get there. By stock up I mean we will eat all that we can and get a whole live one for the road. Any seafood if better when it’s fresh, so our philosophy is to catch it as we need it or flag down the commercial boats to see if they are able to sell or trade their catch. The prawn fishers seem to prefer swapping prawns for beer rather than cash. This barter system is often preferred, fresh bread goes almost as far as beer, but not quite.

Seafood is so delicate it takes no time before it acquires a freezer flavour that reduces it to mystery fish. Hmm are you sure that this is halibut, tastes like salt cod! How much do two people really need? I would like to come back tomorrow and still be able to get King crab. Leave the big guys for reproduction and throw the little guys back so they can grow up.

The little “berg” is roped to the side of the boat and the Captain hacks away at crystals of brilliant blue. He passes me one of the bigger chunks to feel, it is heavier than regular ice.

In the morning a huge cruise ship is leaving the Arm, we wait for the ice to quit moving from their wake before we head up the channel. The tide is returning so we are following the bergs into the Arm, we hope that we have enough time before the tide changes and we have to fight our way against the ice.

On a little rock ledge there is a momma bear with this years cubs hiding between her legs. It’s a straight drop into the ocean below if they slip. We are not sure of what she is trying to accomplish and she’s looking a little uncertain herself. Audrey slows down and we stay far enough away from her so we don’t add to the confusion.

With a roar a thirty-foot tour boat comes out of nowhere. The idiot pilot stops his boat right under the bears and cameras click like typewriters gone berserk…the poor bears scatter up the cliff, the babies are bawling in fear with the whites in their eyes showing in terror. They are slipping and falling, we fully expect to see one of them drop the 20 feet into the ocean. The Captain is furious, if we would have found anything on board to throw at this stupid tour operator it would have happened

The tour boat hits full throttle again and roars off around the corner, leaving the rest of us to deal with the ice banging against our hulls from the wake they’ve created. The bears shoot dirty looks over their shoulders as they top the 60-foot cliff; obviously they are glad to be done with all of us. I can see momma bear muttering, ”some people’s children, no manners at all!

Our necks are cramping from looking skyward up the straight flat rock that heads straight up to the sun and drops directly below the surface of the ocean. With the shear drop into the ocean the depth of the water allows for some unusual boating.   Waterfalls cascade down the rock all around us, spilling beautiful crystal clear glacier water into the sea.

The Captain brings Audrey’s bow toward the shoreline between two waterfalls. I am on the bow, not sure what he is doing. He slowly inches us forward until our bow is touching the sheer rock face between the two falls. This is so out of the realm of usual that my instincts are on full alert, “we’re too close to the rock, we’re too close to the rock.” What comes out my mouth is; “what in the hell are you doing?” He laughs, puts Audrey in neutral and throws me the water jug. “You’ve always wanted to take a shower under a waterfall” he says, “I expect by the time that the jug is only partially full, you will be soaking wet.”

I cannot back down because this is true, I do mange to fill the jug AND stay fairly dry. It’s an incredible feeling being underneath tons of falling water with mist blowing around you, I would love to do it again, in warmer water! This liquid ice will be great for drinking and it makes exceptional coffee.

Around the corner under full throttle cruises the “Empress of the North”. She’s a replica of an old riverboat complete with fake waterwheel. If you glitzed up the SS Klondike in Whitehorse, Yukon and she would be a smaller twin. Her hull is smashing through the ice and we wonder if she’s been re-enforced as an icebreaker. We have seen her several times before, her passengers always seem the happiest of the cruisers. They hang over the sides and wave and shout as they go by, lots of the other cruise ship passengers don’t respond to a friendly wave. Everyone is heading for the glacier.

A small thump resonates a vibration through the hull, then a bigger one and a bigger vibration. We are two kilometres from the glacier, but the tide has turned and now the icebergs are bumping against our hull, it is amazing how little “give” there is in a floating block of ice. I’d assumed that our bow wake would simply push the ice to the side, that isn’t what happens. The little ones will move, by little I mean no bigger than three feet in diameter, after that it’s like hitting a rock wall. Sitting still we can feel the ice hitting the hull, causing vibrations through Audrey’s bones, it’s time to back out of here. The ice is packing quickly so we do have to back up to get out of the icepack. Again, so close and yet so far, next time we’ll make it.

P.S. The Empress of the North has a record of running aground at least once a year. She ran aground again shortly after we saw her and was out of commission for the rest to the season. Whatever they are doing they seem to have the most fun while they are afloat.

The Empress of the North in Tracy Arm, Alaska

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The Adventures of The Audrey Eleanor- Part 9

Nosing into the rocky shoreline, I am to fill our water jugs with this wildly fresh water

Tracey Arm channel of icebergs

Word has gotten out that Tracey Arm rivals Glacier Bay for magnificent glaciers and stunning scenery. The ice walls calve and collapse into the ocean with a force that creates huge resounding waves. Waves tinkle the neon blue icebergs like giant ice cubes mingling with new friends in a crystal glass. This solid granite canyon must have been created when the earth experienced an extreme upheaval and the rock cracked like a hard-boiled egg to expose wide white bands of contrasting colour that offset the milky green water. This is the ultimate in exterior design.

Tracey Arm is south of Juneau, Alaska by approximately 50 K. Icebergs ranging from barely noticeable (bergies) to spectacular glistening jewels guard the entrance to Tracy Arm. Navigation is difficult because the ice can obscure the range markers at the entrance, or solid blue crystals block the pathway, “Bergs or bergies” do not move readily.

At low tide the whole procedure becomes quite interesting as swirls and tidal rips develop in the sea and mountains of ice sway in the current, intent on blocking your route…while we have had to do some tricky navigating to get inside, it is worth it.

Traffic has increased since we first explored this channel; the cruise ships now navigate the rock canyons. Depending on the year, the icebergs can limit your access up the 30 K channel and tides of course affect everything.

We are making our way south this time and cannot resist trying once again to get a look at Sawyer Glacier. A past attempt to reach the end of the arm and see the glacier had been thwarted by a flotilla of icebergs at the 10 K range, the tides aren’t running in our favour this time either, but what the heck, and as I’m sure you know by now “God hates a coward”.

The anchor gets dropped in the little bay in the mouth of the arm. There are several boats here this time. A 45’ sailboat has tied to the trees along the shore and looks to be about 4’ away from the sheer rock edge. It is difficult to anchor with a combination of baby icebergs and boats all crowding for the limited space. This is quite a difference from the last time we visited, when we were the sole occupants in the cove. From my galley window I can see a little iceberg that’s attempting to rub shoulders with Audrey, it’s fairly small and is floating, so no worries. The little iceberg needs to worry; the Captain has decided that he wants to fill the ice coolers with berg ice. This ice is compressed, ancient and lasts way longer than any ice we can buy or make, it makes such a beautiful blue contrast against red crab.

We are a few days from Petersburg and will stock up on King crab when we get there. By stock up I mean we will eat all that we can and get a whole live one for the road. Any seafood if better when it’s fresh, so our philosophy is to catch it as we need it or flag down the commercial boats to see if they are able to sell or trade their catch. The prawn fishers seem to prefer swapping prawns for beer rather than cash. This barter system is often preferred, fresh bread goes almost as far as beer, but not quite.

Seafood is so delicate it takes no time before it acquires a freezer flavour that reduces it to mystery fish. Hmm are you sure that this is halibut, tastes like salt cod! How much do two people really need? I would like to come back tomorrow and still be able to get King crab. Leave the big guys for reproduction and throw the little guys back so they can grow up.

The little “berg” is roped to the side of the boat and the Captain hacks away at crystals of brilliant blue. He passes me one of the bigger chunks to feel, it is heavier than regular ice.

In the morning a huge cruise ship is leaving the Arm, we wait for the ice to quit moving from their wake before we head up the channel. The tide is returning so we are following the bergs into the Arm, we hope that we have enough time before the tide changes and we have to fight our way against the ice.

On a little rock ledge there is a momma bear with this years cubs hiding between her legs. It’s a straight drop into the ocean below if they slip. We are not sure of what she is trying to accomplish and she’s looking a little uncertain herself. Audrey slows down and we stay far enough away from her so we don’t add to the confusion.

With a roar a thirty-foot tour boat comes out of nowhere. The idiot pilot stops his boat right under the bears and cameras click like typewriters gone berserk…the poor bears scatter up the cliff, the babies are bawling in fear with the whites in their eyes showing in terror. They are slipping and falling, we fully expect to see one of them drop the 20 feet into the ocean. The Captain is furious, if we would have found anything on board to throw at this stupid tour operator it would have happened

The tour boat hits full throttle again and roars off around the corner, leaving the rest of us to deal with the ice banging against our hulls from the wake they’ve created. The bears shoot dirty looks over their shoulders as they top the 60-foot cliff; obviously they are glad to be done with all of us. I can see momma bear muttering, ”some people’s children, no manners at all!

Our necks are cramping from looking skyward up the straight flat rock that heads straight up to the sun and drops directly below the surface of the ocean. With the shear drop into the ocean the depth of the water allows for some unusual boating.   Waterfalls cascade down the rock all around us, spilling beautiful crystal clear glacier water into the sea.

The Captain brings Audrey’s bow toward the shoreline between two waterfalls. I am on the bow, not sure what he is doing. He slowly inches us forward until our bow is touching the sheer rock face between the two falls. This is so out of the realm of usual that my instincts are on full alert, “we’re too close to the rock, we’re too close to the rock.” What comes out my mouth is; “what in the hell are you doing?” He laughs, puts Audrey in neutral and throws me the water jug. “You’ve always wanted to take a shower under a waterfall” he says, “I expect by the time that the jug is only partially full, you will be soaking wet.”

I cannot back down because this is true, I do mange to fill the jug AND stay fairly dry. It’s an incredible feeling being underneath tons of falling water with mist blowing around you, I would love to do it again, in warmer water! This liquid ice will be great for drinking and it makes exceptional coffee.

Around the corner under full throttle cruises the “Empress of the North”. She’s a replica of an old riverboat complete with fake waterwheel. If you glitzed up the SS Klondike in Whitehorse, Yukon and she would be a smaller twin. Her hull is smashing through the ice and we wonder if she’s been re-enforced as an icebreaker. We have seen her several times before, her passengers always seem the happiest of the cruisers. They hang over the sides and wave and shout as they go by, lots of the other cruise ship passengers don’t respond to a friendly wave. Everyone is heading for the glacier.

A small thump resonates a vibration through the hull, then a bigger one and a bigger vibration. We are two kilometres from the glacier, but the tide has turned and now the icebergs are bumping against our hull, it is amazing how little “give” there is in a floating block of ice. I’d assumed that our bow wake would simply push the ice to the side, that isn’t what happens. The little ones will move, by little I mean no bigger than three feet in diameter, after that it’s like hitting a rock wall. Sitting still we can feel the ice hitting the hull, causing vibrations through Audrey’s bones, it’s time to back out of here. The ice is packing quickly so we do have to back up to get out of the icepack. Again, so close and yet so far, next time we’ll make it.

P.S. The Empress of the North has a record of running aground at least once a year. She ran aground again shortly after we saw her and was out of commission for the rest to the season. Whatever they are doing they seem to have the most fun while they are afloat.

The Empress of the North in Tracy Arm, Alaska

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The Adventures of The Audrey Eleanor- Part 9

Nosing into the rocky shoreline, I am to fill our water jugs with this wildly fresh water

Tracey Arm channel of icebergs

Word has gotten out that Tracey Arm rivals Glacier Bay for magnificent glaciers and stunning scenery. The ice walls calve and collapse into the ocean with a force that creates huge resounding waves. Waves tinkle the neon blue icebergs like giant ice cubes mingling with new friends in a crystal glass. This solid granite canyon must have been created when the earth experienced an extreme upheaval and the rock cracked like a hard-boiled egg to expose wide white bands of contrasting colour that offset the milky green water. This is the ultimate in exterior design.

Tracey Arm is south of Juneau, Alaska by approximately 50 K. Icebergs ranging from barely noticeable (bergies) to spectacular glistening jewels guard the entrance to Tracy Arm. Navigation is difficult because the ice can obscure the range markers at the entrance, or solid blue crystals block the pathway, “Bergs or bergies” do not move readily.

At low tide the whole procedure becomes quite interesting as swirls and tidal rips develop in the sea and mountains of ice sway in the current, intent on blocking your route…while we have had to do some tricky navigating to get inside, it is worth it.

Traffic has increased since we first explored this channel; the cruise ships now navigate the rock canyons. Depending on the year, the icebergs can limit your access up the 30 K channel and tides of course affect everything.

We are making our way south this time and cannot resist trying once again to get a look at Sawyer Glacier. A past attempt to reach the end of the arm and see the glacier had been thwarted by a flotilla of icebergs at the 10 K range, the tides aren’t running in our favour this time either, but what the heck, and as I’m sure you know by now “God hates a coward”.

The anchor gets dropped in the little bay in the mouth of the arm. There are several boats here this time. A 45’ sailboat has tied to the trees along the shore and looks to be about 4’ away from the sheer rock edge. It is difficult to anchor with a combination of baby icebergs and boats all crowding for the limited space. This is quite a difference from the last time we visited, when we were the sole occupants in the cove. From my galley window I can see a little iceberg that’s attempting to rub shoulders with Audrey, it’s fairly small and is floating, so no worries. The little iceberg needs to worry; the Captain has decided that he wants to fill the ice coolers with berg ice. This ice is compressed, ancient and lasts way longer than any ice we can buy or make, it makes such a beautiful blue contrast against red crab.

We are a few days from Petersburg and will stock up on King crab when we get there. By stock up I mean we will eat all that we can and get a whole live one for the road. Any seafood if better when it’s fresh, so our philosophy is to catch it as we need it or flag down the commercial boats to see if they are able to sell or trade their catch. The prawn fishers seem to prefer swapping prawns for beer rather than cash. This barter system is often preferred, fresh bread goes almost as far as beer, but not quite.

Seafood is so delicate it takes no time before it acquires a freezer flavour that reduces it to mystery fish. Hmm are you sure that this is halibut, tastes like salt cod! How much do two people really need? I would like to come back tomorrow and still be able to get King crab. Leave the big guys for reproduction and throw the little guys back so they can grow up.

The little “berg” is roped to the side of the boat and the Captain hacks away at crystals of brilliant blue. He passes me one of the bigger chunks to feel, it is heavier than regular ice.

In the morning a huge cruise ship is leaving the Arm, we wait for the ice to quit moving from their wake before we head up the channel. The tide is returning so we are following the bergs into the Arm, we hope that we have enough time before the tide changes and we have to fight our way against the ice.

On a little rock ledge there is a momma bear with this years cubs hiding between her legs. It’s a straight drop into the ocean below if they slip. We are not sure of what she is trying to accomplish and she’s looking a little uncertain herself. Audrey slows down and we stay far enough away from her so we don’t add to the confusion.

With a roar a thirty-foot tour boat comes out of nowhere. The idiot pilot stops his boat right under the bears and cameras click like typewriters gone berserk…the poor bears scatter up the cliff, the babies are bawling in fear with the whites in their eyes showing in terror. They are slipping and falling, we fully expect to see one of them drop the 20 feet into the ocean. The Captain is furious, if we would have found anything on board to throw at this stupid tour operator it would have happened

The tour boat hits full throttle again and roars off around the corner, leaving the rest of us to deal with the ice banging against our hulls from the wake they’ve created. The bears shoot dirty looks over their shoulders as they top the 60-foot cliff; obviously they are glad to be done with all of us. I can see momma bear muttering, ”some people’s children, no manners at all!

Our necks are cramping from looking skyward up the straight flat rock that heads straight up to the sun and drops directly below the surface of the ocean. With the shear drop into the ocean the depth of the water allows for some unusual boating.   Waterfalls cascade down the rock all around us, spilling beautiful crystal clear glacier water into the sea.

The Captain brings Audrey’s bow toward the shoreline between two waterfalls. I am on the bow, not sure what he is doing. He slowly inches us forward until our bow is touching the sheer rock face between the two falls. This is so out of the realm of usual that my instincts are on full alert, “we’re too close to the rock, we’re too close to the rock.” What comes out my mouth is; “what in the hell are you doing?” He laughs, puts Audrey in neutral and throws me the water jug. “You’ve always wanted to take a shower under a waterfall” he says, “I expect by the time that the jug is only partially full, you will be soaking wet.”

I cannot back down because this is true, I do mange to fill the jug AND stay fairly dry. It’s an incredible feeling being underneath tons of falling water with mist blowing around you, I would love to do it again, in warmer water! This liquid ice will be great for drinking and it makes exceptional coffee.

Around the corner under full throttle cruises the “Empress of the North”. She’s a replica of an old riverboat complete with fake waterwheel. If you glitzed up the SS Klondike in Whitehorse, Yukon and she would be a smaller twin. Her hull is smashing through the ice and we wonder if she’s been re-enforced as an icebreaker. We have seen her several times before, her passengers always seem the happiest of the cruisers. They hang over the sides and wave and shout as they go by, lots of the other cruise ship passengers don’t respond to a friendly wave. Everyone is heading for the glacier.

A small thump resonates a vibration through the hull, then a bigger one and a bigger vibration. We are two kilometres from the glacier, but the tide has turned and now the icebergs are bumping against our hull, it is amazing how little “give” there is in a floating block of ice. I’d assumed that our bow wake would simply push the ice to the side, that isn’t what happens. The little ones will move, by little I mean no bigger than three feet in diameter, after that it’s like hitting a rock wall. Sitting still we can feel the ice hitting the hull, causing vibrations through Audrey’s bones, it’s time to back out of here. The ice is packing quickly so we do have to back up to get out of the icepack. Again, so close and yet so far, next time we’ll make it.

P.S. The Empress of the North has a record of running aground at least once a year. She ran aground again shortly after we saw her and was out of commission for the rest to the season. Whatever they are doing they seem to have the most fun while they are afloat.

The Empress of the North in Tracy Arm, Alaska