Oh, Canada!

Our departure from Ketchikan was met with high winds, rain, and choppy water, and the first 3 days of the trip only resulted in 26 miles of progress. We had to settle for last-minute, improvised campsites when conditions deteriorated, and we were sure we'd be behind schedule getting into Prince Rupert. A few days of gorgeous weather turned everything around, though, and we quickly made up for lost time (60 miles in 3 days) and arrived a day early! It's amazing what a difference good weather can make, and this weather provided some of our best days of kayaking yet.



The good weather came just in time, too, as we approached Dixon Entrance, the first open-ocean section of the trip. About 12 miles of coast, from Foggy Point to Cape Fox, are completely exposed to the Pacific, and the more "protected" sections to the north and south are still subject to swell. We passed through Foggy Bay (the last bit of shelter before the Big Scary Part) on a calm, sunny afternoon and decided that the weather was nice enough to head around the point before setting up camp. The next morning we set out on silky smooth water under a deep pastel surise. It was going to be a good day. Hardly a crashing wave was to be heard as we paddled through the gentle swell, past fishing boats and harbor seals. The peaceful morning opened up into a beautiful, sparkling sunny day of benign seas and gorgeous paddling. We couldn't believe how lucky we were to experience such an amazing day. A day that pries your heart wide open and stuffs the whole universe inside. Humpbacks and sea lions escorted us along the coast, past our intended stopping point, on and on across the border into Canada. 24 miles after we set out for the day, we touched down on the white sand beaches of Boston Island, BC. We enjoyed some relaxing, some dinner, and some sleep before waking up under a clear starry sky to enjoy another day of perfection.



After a smooth early morning crossing of Portland Inlet, we were headed around a point where a rocky reef had been exposed at low tide. We had seen humpback spouts rising from the other side of the rocks, but the whale seemed to be moving across our path. By the time we got around the point, it would probably be off in the distance...
As we came around the rocks the water in front of us started to bubble. Smallish bubbles at first, then larger ones, quickly rising to the surface.
"Is that a fish?"
The bubbles started to form a large circle.
"Um, I think that's a whale."
It's a funny thing to be in a tiny boat and realize that a giant whale is right beneath you.
Just as we started to back paddle, a giant, black head burst through the middle of the bubble net, ribbed throat stretched wide. The humpback turned, crashing down into the water and raising a long pectoral fin into the air. The fin slapped the surface as the whale sank back down, and then quiet ripples were the only indication that anything had been there at all. All of this happened in about 3 seconds, maybe 10 feet in front of our kayaks. A mix of amazement, excitement, and panic sent our hearts racing as we tried to move out of the way, closer to shore, wondering where he would pop up next. A minute or so later we saw him again. Still close, but moving behind us into open water as we headed around a corner. With wide grins on our faces we paddled on in disbelief. Just another day on the Inside Passage.