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Hello and
welcome |
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to
the travels of M.V. Shelyann on the North Coast of British Columbia
Canada.
Over the past
fourteen years she has carried us over 27,000 miles through the islands and
passages that stretch from Puget Sound in the South to the ice strewn waters
of Southeast Alaska.
These pages
contain over ten thousand images of our favorite places on the North
Coast... Wonderful, wild places that few people ever see.
We hope that you
will enjoy sharing them.
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| What's
New |
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| Site
Updates: Sept
15, 2005 |
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Images
from our 2005 summer trip have been added. New
and revisited 'places' are
shown in bold on the image gallery sidebar.
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2006
Trip Highlights
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After
seven years absence, we returned to Alaska. Originally intending to do
a 'little' Alaska as far as Petersburg, we got carried away and
ended up continuing on past Glacier Bay into Cross Sound and
Lisianski Inlet.
From Pelican we returned south via the west coast of Chichagof
Island to Sitka then down the west coast of Baranof Island to
Coronation Island. We returned 'inside' via the Spanish Islands and
Sea Otter Sound visiting El Capitan Caves and Point Baker on Prince
of Wales Island. Two months and 2400 nautical miles in all.
Pictures posted soon.
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Serendipity: |
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'Is the effect by which one accidentally
discovers something fortunate, especially while looking for
something else entirely.' |
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We were anchored in the creek mouth
in Swanson's Bay one afternoon in 1998 after an afternoon digging
bottles in the ruins when a blue and white U.S. ketch 'Elske' came
into the bay. We watched as it trolled around for a while on the
north side of the bay looking for an anchorage, a young fellow on
deck swatting horseflies with a towel, then moved on. The next day
the ketch tied behind us at the 'cannery / fuel' dock in Klemtu. The
skipper introduced himself and we discovered that we both had
'mates' named Claudia.
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Later that day we made arrangements for a
beer in Shearwater, our next stop heading south. We traveled home
together that year and found that we became 'fast' friends. Over the
ensuing 8 or 9 years we have spent our summers together and traveled
many thousands of miles, around the island and into Alaska, leading
each other astray, enjoying many adventures, each spurring the other
to go where we might not have gone alone.
Thanks to our good friends and
trusted companions Dean, Claudia & sons in S.V. Elske. |
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The
North Coast
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A friend
once said... This going North every year must be getting a little
repetitive...
The only
answer I could give was... Not in a hundred years.
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Forward
Harbour, BC
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| Anchor
Watch |
| You can
see them coming... violent gusts sweeping the surface of the bay as
they approach... hitting Shelyann with a thump, sending her reeling at
the end of her tether. |
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| Windblown drifts of kelp climb the anchor rode
and flail in tangles from the bowsprit rails... flags chatter and
snap.....
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Nearly
two A.M. now and it is dark, at least as dark as it gets this far
north in summer. Our universe has been reduced to the cocoon of the
cabin lights and a black outline of forested shoreline against the red
glow of the northern sky.
Sitting
quietly in the dark, worrying... anticipating the next pummeling
gust... is it getting better or worse... have we dragged... is the
rode chafing.....
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Bushy Island, Snow Pass. Alaska |
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| Horseflies |
| A personal
droning squadron of hungry HF-14 fighters surrounds each of us on our
descent. The warm, sunny, windless day is proving ideal for our
attackers and they have come in droves. |
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The dogs, in
their patrolling of the mountainside during our climb, have collected
every horsefly on the mountain and delivered them to us. Wiping
sweat from our chins the hand comes back red with blood.
They too are
suffering... each wearing what appears to be a double-braid, black bead
necklace... rows of tormentors burrowed into the hair of their necks.
They cannot be brushed off, the only solution is to periodically crush
them as they feed. Both are sporting bloody red necks and chests.
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| Climbing Mount Pender |
| McMicking Inlet, Campania Island B.C. |
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Old
Places
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Piles of
two by fours, carefully stacked for drying, now a sagging punky mass.
Rotting wharf pilings topped with bonsai forests. Huge riveted
digesters tumbled drunkenly on their sides. A drying tower, its
blowers and conveyors forever corroded in place. The smokestack, once
the billowing driving force of this place, now mute but for dripping
rain.
These old
places, like the people who once made their lives here, are now
returned to dust and skeletons.
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| Swanson Bay, B.C. |
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BC
Marina .com |
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