Category: Alaska Trip 2025

June 23, 2025 – Monday

Tucked along the eastern shoreline of Grenville Channel, Klewnuggit Inlet offers a rugged and breathtaking escape. The East Inlet proved to be the perfect haven to drop anchor, fire up the BBQ, and ease into a calm, unhurried evening while loons filled the air with their hauntingly beautiful songs. We weren’t alone—three other familiar boats, Aurora Pearl, Gallivant, and s/v Tenacious, all of which we first crossed paths with in Shearwater, had also found their way here.

By 5:00 a.m., Aurora Pearl had already weighed anchor and quietly slipped away. As we too prepared to depart, the captain of Gallivant stood on deck, offering a warm wave goodbye—a quiet farewell shared in the stillness of the inlet.

The 50-nautical-mile journey from Klewnuggit Inlet to Prince Rupert was both scenic and uneventful—a welcome change from the previous day’s passage. With the wind at our stern and the currents working in our favor, we enjoyed a smooth and steady ride. It wasn’t until more than four hours in that we spotted our first vessel: a Canadian rescue boat. Aside from that, we passed only two other boats while making our way through the quiet expanse of Grenville Channel.

As we exited the channel, marine traffic increased dramatically. Tugs with tows, commercial fishing boats, recreational anglers, adventure charters, and pleasure craft all crowded the waterways. By the time we reached the fuel dock, it was bustling with activity. Rather than wait in line, we chose to head straight to our slip at Cow Bay Marina and fuel up later.

June 22, 2025 – Sunday

June 21, 2025 Saturday

Today marks one month since we set out on our new adventure up the Inside Passage to Alaska, and what a month it’s been! We’ve had some truly unforgettable encounters—imagine watching orcas and humpbacks glide past our boat, spotting minke whales in the distance, and being greeted by playful dolphins, curious seals, and those adorable little otters along the shoreline. The skies have been just as lively, with eagles soaring overhead, loons calling in the mornings, and even flashes of color from purple martins fluttering around us.

Along the way, we’ve reconnected with old friends and made some lovely new ones—one of the most unexpected joys of the trip. And then there are the landscapes… every bend reveals something more breathtaking than the last. Honestly, it’s hard to put into words how incredible this journey has already been.

June 20, 2025

Along the Inside Passage’s winding waterways, countless unheralded cascades tumble from emerald cliffs, each one a fleeting surprise rather than a featured attraction. You’ll pass slender ribbons of water arcing through the air, half-hidden behind stands of spruce and cedar, their spray catching the midday sun like a scattering of diamonds. They don’t boast names on most cruising guides, yet each fall has its own voice—some whispering in delicate threads, others rushing in short, staccato bursts. Drift by at the right angle and you’ll hear them sing, a soft, watery chorus that lures you closer even as you chart your course downstream.

In the height of summer, when the mountain snows have shed most of their weight, these falls shrink to graceful trickles—but that only makes them more enchanting. You can’t help but imagine their full-throated fury in April or May, when melting ice swells their flow to thunderous heights. In those moments, the air around you feels charged with memory, as though the land itself remembers the days of roaring meltwater. And though you won’t find them on any “top ten” list, these humble falls are the soul of the Inside Passage—quiet reminders that beauty often hides in the places you least expect.

Scenic Views from Bottleneck Bay to Butedale

Tucked along the moss-draped shores of Princess Royal Island, Butedale feels like a secret whispered through the rainforest mist—an echo of a bygone era where people and salmon moved to the same relentless rhythm. Once a bustling cannery town born in 1911, it’s now a weathered silhouette against the trees, its decaying buildings standing like forgotten sentinels of British Columbia’s industrial past. Only four structures remain, clinging to time and tide, yet the spirit of the place lingers. Boaters who stop here do so with a sense of reverence—and caution—knowing they’re stepping into a place where nature has begun reclaiming every nail and timber. The dock, though technically closed, offers a rare anchorage for those drawn to solitude and history wrapped in salt air and silence.

At the heart of Butedale, the falls roar like they still remember powering the cannery below. Rushing 315 feet from Butedale Lake to the sea, the cascade is not just a postcard scene—it’s a living, breathing force that has shaped everything around it. Butedale Creek courses through the remains of the old town like veins of memory, churning white and wild, mesmerizing boaters who drift in close. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t just impress—it haunts you, in the best way.

Scenic Views at Butedale

June 19, 2025 – Thursday

Scenic Views from Shearwater to Bottleneck

June 16, 2025 -Thursday

We slipped out of  Frypan Bay just as the first hint of light crept across the sky. Rain tapped softly on the deck, and a thick blanket of low gray clouds stretched across the horizon, merging sea and sky into one seamless, muted canvas. Now and then, the fog pulled back like a curtain, offering fleeting views of rugged, forested slopes before quietly closing in again.

As the day wore on, the mist began to lift, and Shearwater slowly took shape on the shoreline—its weathered buildings and long docks appearing like a welcome waiting to be accepted. For a moment, it looked like the rain might hold off. But as we edged closer, a light drizzle returned, soon settling into a steady, familiar rhythm by the time we tied up.

Our time here has been a real pleasure, especially reconnecting with our friends aboard EmBark—one of those small joys that makes even the grayest day feel warm.

Today, we will leave Shearwater behind and continue our adventures northward, winding our way up the Inside Passage.

Scenic Views from Frypan Bay to Shearwater

_{When we first saw this rocky shoreline we thought we were looking at a spirt bear.}

Sites around Shearwater

June 14, 2025 – Saturday

Crossing Cape Caution is a defining moment for any pleasure boater, marking the transition into the untamed waters of the open Pacific. The passage demands respect, as ocean swells and mercurial weather patterns can transform a routine journey into a true test of seamanship. Careful planning—monitoring wind conditions, tides, and currents—can mean the difference between a smooth crossing and a battle against the elements.

Fortunately, our transit was remarkably favorable. The waves rolled at a manageable 3 to 5 feet, the wind kept below 10 knots, and the currents pushed us forward rather than resisting our progress. The scenery was nothing short of spectacular, teeming with seabirds, marine life, and the distant majesty of snow-capped mountains. The skies shifted from moody grays and hazy veils to bursts of blue streaked with billowing white clouds. We covered 69 nautical miles from Port McNeill to Frypan Bay, a journey that took just over twelve hours. By the time we dropped anchor, exhaustion had settled in—-but so had a sense of accomplishment. A hot meal, a quiet moment to take in our surroundings, and then sleep—earned and well-deserved.

June 15 – Reflections at Frypan Bay

June 13, 2025 – Friday

Pictures from Port McNeill

June 9,2025

The Curve of Time: A Boat, A Book, and the Call of Adventure

We arrived in Port McNeill on Wednesday, June 4, waiting for a favorable weather window to cross Cape Caution—the open-water stretch that must be navigated to reach central and northern British Columbia. According to the forecast, Saturday, June 14 might be our opportunity. For now, the wind is gusting over 20 mph, and waves are reaching 8 feet—conditions far from ideal. In the meantime, we’ve spent our days walking the docks, chatting with fellow boaters, and swapping stories about our vessels and past adventures.

During one of these strolls, a particular boat caught my attention—The Curve of Time. I’ve always had a fascination with old boats, drawn to the history they carry, and this one felt like it had a story worth uncovering. Before I had the chance to speak with the owner, the vessel departed, leaving me curious about its past. A quick online search revealed that its history was even richer than I expected.

Built in Holland in 1959, the steel-hulled vessel began its life as a North Sea fishing trawler before being repurposed as an activist ship under Greenpeace’s ownership. They named it Moby Dick, an homage to Melville’s classic novel, as it sailed on campaigns against whaling, crossing the Atlantic and eventually making its way to Canada’s Pacific Coast.

In 1997, the boat took on a new identity when it was renamed The Curve of Time, paying tribute to M. Wylie Blanchet’s timeless book about exploring this very coastline. With its Dutch-flag-colored funnel and storied past, the vessel embodied a sense of transformation—just like the books that inspired its names.

At the dock we are surrounded by the big boats.

June 4, 2025 – Wednesday

As we approached Port McNeill, we spotted the final stretch of the Van Isle 360 race, the sailboats cutting through the distant waters. This marks our last encounter with them, as they round the northern tip of the island and continue their journey down the rugged west coast of Vancouver Island.

Just as the sailboats disappeared from view, a fleet of ten jet skis from Dangerous Water Adventures in Seattle raced past us. These adventurers are heading to Juneau, where they’ll spend the season guiding jet ski excursions through Alaska’s waters.

Tonight, we all find ourselves at North Island Marina. If last year was any indication, we’ll cross paths with them several more times before their journey north is complete.