August 22-23, 2025 – Friday & Saturday
Friday was a land day—a pause in the voyage, a moment to tend to the quiet necessities that keep the journey afloat. The boat waited patiently in harbor while we turned our attention to the mundane: scrubbing decks, restocking stores, and ticking off the practical tasks that make life at sea sustainable.
But Prince Rupert, with its gentle charm, offered more than errands. The city invited wandering. We strolled through tree-lined streets and into parks bursting with color—gardens so full of blooms they seemed to hum with life. It felt like the town itself was in bloom, not just the flowers.
In the heart of the park, surrounded by blossoms and birdsong, we found a moment of serenity. A bench beneath a flowering tree became our sanctuary. The garden didn’t just offer beauty—it offered renewal. In that stillness, the hum of the city softened, and the soul took a deep breath.
Lesson on Cabbing
Raven’s Rhapsody
Saturday brought us back to the water, where the rhythm of the coast came alive around every bend. Ferries glided past with quiet purpose, tugboats chugged along with their deep-throated engines, and fishing vessels bobbed gently as crews worked the lines. As we passed through the industrial shipping area, the scale of maritime commerce was hard to miss—massive container ships docked at sprawling terminals, cranes arched like mechanical giraffes unloading goods bound for distant markets. Prince Rupert’s port buzzed with activity, a vital artery in the global trade network where coal, grain, and containers move seamlessly from rail to sea. It’s a place where logistics meets landscape, and even amid the hum of industry, the wild still feels close.
But the true magic of the day unfolded on the Grenville Channel, just a few miles before Klewnuggit. Out of the stillness, two humpback whales appeared, swimming directly toward our boat. In a moment that felt both breathtaking and surreal, they flipped their tails and dove beneath us—just thirty feet away. The water swirled with their passing, and for a heartbeat, everything was silent. I moved to the stern, heart still racing, and watched as they surfaced again about a quarter mile behind us, blowing mist into the air like a farewell. It was one of those rare encounters that leaves you awed, a little shaken, and deeply grateful to be part of the story.
