Sunday July 13, 2014

Sunday July 13 we are off for an twenty two mile return gunk along Princess Royal Island looking for bear and going to Butedale.




Plants & Shadows

No luck on the bear sighting today, we skim as close as we dare to the shore. Our little skiff skims over the unbroken surface at 20 miles per hour.  Penny sits in the co-pilots seat with the Canon camera nesting on her lap with the telephoto lens mounted for the long shots and the assorted lenses near at hand. 

She has hunter’s eyes.  A skill honed as a young girl hunting with her Dad (Joe) 22 rifle slung over her shoulder and at hand to shoot the eye out of an in-flight grouse at 50 paces. I am the fighter pilot eyes on the depth sounder, the digital chart plotter little red arrow pacing our little craft on its electronic screen and prompting it ahead to probe for charted rocks as it most inconvenient to brush the bottom at 20 mph.

We see a flash of white right beside us, not 30 ft. away.  I spin the helm hard over and slow to an idle; we did see something, something worth the trip already.




A Very Mad Eagle

Penny snaps up the camera and triggers off a shot. She has got it. We have caught an eagle with a beautiful salmon on the beach. It has just started its meal and the head lays dismembered beside the main body. I look at the prize with envy and for split second we both consider plundering the catch. The eagle is as concerned about this as it has read our minds, it and us both looking at each other. We concede slowly; the raptor has won its prize, we would be but jackals if we had claimed the fish


 





Eagle in Attack Mode

Are prize will be Penny’s camera shot. The shot has caught that micro second of pure hate its eyes piercing through us the rage of the thought of losing what was his.

 

 

 

Kermode Bear we Saw Last Time we were Here

We press on still at the ready. We turn the corner into the Butedale Harbour and slow, to take in carnage presented before us.

 





Butedale is Falling Down

There is further loss of the grand collection of industrial buildings that once hummed with meshing of gears, pulleys, the humming of workers pulling leavers, pushing switches on all types of canning equipment. One processing machine was named the "chink", a replacement machine for the hard workers that would only do this part of canning process as it was oppressive.

Some of the buildings have burned down leaving only the bones of pipes, plumbing, boilers and the remains of a machine that was oiled, tweaked, nurtured every day by it guardian, so it could perform its designated task. Now it is frozen, rusted, useless, discarded, a relic of the past.





Docks a Little Shaky

We tie to the old floats that are barely just there, hanging together with bits of planks, old ones spanning missing sections, a hodgepodge all stitched together with miss matched rusted and work worn chain. There are two yachts that we have shared bays and moorage with tied precariously to the remaining foot hold of the logs that support the metal ramp that leads to the top of the pier.

 

It sign proclaims “WELCOME TO BUTEDALE”.  It’s more than a little worn and hard to read but we get the message.

 

We socialize with Mark and his family from Kitimat off a large red RIB (rubber boat) who has followed us on our old Alaskan blogs. He is camping out on top of the pier.

The young man with handsome red beard starts spinning a tall tales about Lou the caretaker here and we listen on in disbelief. 

Apparently he got lonely at Christmas and decided to make the run to Kitimat.  It was well below freezing and there was a horrendous storm.  It got so bad that his boat swamped and he had to swim to shore.  He got a May Day out, but Coast Guard was not able to get out until the next morning.  To keep alive he did jumping jacks all night.  Needless to say his rescuers were extremely surprised to see that he had survived. (I believe it’s the strong French Canadian accent that burns beneath, that kept him warm.) 



Turbine Room with Lou

Penny & Lou Catching Up

Unfortunately he not only lost his boat, but he lost all his treasured mementos of the history of Butedale that were on board.  If you have any he’d love to have them. I talked to Mark and his Dad for a while.  Saying that we had been in Kitimat by boat a few years ago and they said that so much had changed.  Houses that were worth 40K three years ago were now 400K and that there were lots of Albertans living there with large monster trucks.  Lots to do with the proposed pipeline I suspect.  Lou now has a younger caretaker helping him.  Tory is from Ottawa.  He has fashioned a canoe with outriggers and powered by an old British out board (seagull) and he and his golden lab X “Bud” went off to find logs for their wood burning stoves.  We got the impression that maybe a bottling company was purchasing Butedale for its magnificent water supply and they talked about an art gallery in the old pier warehouse. The oil sheiks of Alberta are striking it rich in Kitimat and who knows what's going to happen.  Only time will tell.  Butedale Three Years Back   Now heading south we met “Shaman” & “Raven Spirit” coming north.  They are fleeing the horseflies at Khutze and heading the west side of Princess Royal Island.  We decline their invitation to join them as Khutze was as far north as we intended to travel this year.  We’ll probably catch up with them in Shearwater. We weigh anchor and are now heading south.  We pull into Swanson Bay to have another look. Still defiantly standing the smokestack a red brick monolith towering above the forest and still commanding the respect of a giant, a giant that will in time be brought to its knees.   A few years back we anchored here and went in by dingy. What we found left us dumb struck. There, standing braced against time, a monolithic concrete structure with openings up to 3 stories high, that where windows used to be are now pane less and there is no roof, just blue sky. Inside boilers, the size of silos, have toppled over like bowling pins after a strike.  All around now the dark forest only lets in a sprinkle of light.  Nature is taking it all back her own.

We move off like mourners from a grave site quiet and humble. This was such a busy place so many years ago.

It was home to over 500 men, women and children and is now gone. Hard to believe. As a historical note it was the first pulp mill on the coast and a fish rendering plant (for pelchers). Speaking of pelchers (a very large herring) I had never even heard of this fish and on our Coast it was teaming with them.

We were anchored in a bay up north (can’t remember where, Alaska I think?) when the water exploded like depth charges all about us.  The water and spray was up to 6 ft. high in the air.  There were pelchers everywhere.  It was like the Bermuda triangle. 



Chevy's Island in Horsefly

We are on to Green Inlet.  There is a nice anchorage in Horsefly Cove just inside the Inlet.  (Not to many others here!)  It’s deep, but we stern tie just of the beach. Gunked down toward the end of the inlet.  There is a large tidal bore here. All’s quiet cause it’s high tide, but we’ll come back in the morning to see the overflow from the lagoon.  There is a green sailboat anchored not far from here so we go talked to the couple on “WI waxy”.  Boy do they have great stories.  They have sailed both on this vessel and another all over the east coast and in the Bahamas.  Haven’t been in this area for over twenty-five years.

Head back for a nice dinner.  Did a little fishing.  Lots of small rock cod and a salmon got away.