September 1, 2025 – Monday
We lingered in Shearwater this morning, watching the fog swirl and lift like a curtain reluctant to rise. By 9:00 a.m., with visibility finally clearing, we slipped our lines and headed out—hopeful for a smooth passage. The Inside Passage had other plans. As we reached the broader channel, the fog returned in ghostly patches, drifting across the water like veils. The wind had picked up more than forecasted—not dangerous, but enough to keep us sharp. It was a day that demanded patience and precision.
And then, the whales came. Our first sighting felt almost theatrical. The BC ferry Northern Expedition, a familiar silhouette on these waters, was stopped mid-channel—an unusual sight for a vessel of its size and schedule. Within moments, we understood why. A group of humpbacks had surfaced nearby, their presence so commanding it brought even the ferry to a standstill. Though they were quite a distance from our boat, we watched through binoculars as they breached, pec-slapped, fluked, and blew—each movement a display of raw grace. Then, to our astonishment, two of them glided toward us, closing the distance until they were just 40 feet away. With a final arch and a deep breath, they sounded, their massive, glistening flukes disappearing into the depths. That moment alone would have made the day unforgettable.
But it was only the beginning. By sunset, we had counted six distinct groups of humpbacks, each encounter a reminder of the wild magic that pulses through these waters. Despite the fog and wind, the whales transformed the day into something extraordinary. Tonight, we’re tucked into Frypan Bay. The water is calm, the air still and we are all alone. We’re waiting for our window to cross Cape Caution—a stretch that demands respect and perfect timing. If the weather holds, tomorrow may be our chance. For now, we rest—grateful, humbled, and still replaying the sound of breath and fin in our minds.
