Photo: Crab boat in the fog.

I stared at the face of my pre-paid Canadian cell phone in dismay. "Code Error" it read with the symbol of a red stop sign and below the stop sign the words, "Security Code Required." I'd never had a security code for the phone, didn't know I needed one.

We had been motoring up Petrel Channel in clearing fog when a cell phone tower suddenly revealed itself on a nearby mountainside. "Quick, get the cell phone," said Steve. Here might be an opportunity to call the Prince Rupert Rowing and Yacht Club to make a reservation for the next night. But the phone was dead; we'd left it on and forgot about it days before. And in order to get it to start charging, I'd had to take out the battery and re-insert it. Now that it was charged, it was still useless.

There was nothing we could do until we got to a pay phone so we continued on our way, anchoring for the night in Kelp Passage, a narrow passageway between Porcher and Lewis Islands where Ogden and Grenville Channels meet. We'd never anchored there before but were delighted to discover the anchorage had a view down Grenville Channel to mountains beyond and, although the wind whistled through the passage, it was protected from waves.

With no way to call the Yacht Club we determined to get up early in the morning to beat the crowds and get a space. So the next morning when we woke with fog so thick we had to look at our compass to see which way we were heading, we decided to leave anyway.

I thought I would be able to retrace our chart plotter track out the channel: a mistake. The time it takes for a course change to show up on the chart plotter is such that by the time you see it, the boat could be heading somewhere different. We should have set up compass courses before we left.

We eventually figured out where we were by going slowly and peering through the fog, and made it out of the channel -- into even more fog. Only now we had traffic to contend with too. We had to cross the Browning Entrance where big ships come from the Pacific to the Port of Prince Rupert. We passed by the Lawyer Islands (including Bribery Islet and Client Reef) and saw only shadows. Our AIS showed a ship waiting off the Entrance and as we passed we heard its mournful two long blasts, meaning "underway with no way on," but never saw it. Then a small blip showed on the radar ahead of us. A few minutes later a crab boat came out of the mist. Its crew were pulling traps, not watching their radar and not blowing a fog signal. A while later another radar target showed up; this time it was a tree -- complete with green leaves on its branches. We were in the plume of the Skeena River.

After several hours of peering through the fog, trying to see things that weren't there, the fog lifted and we could see Prince Rupert's grain, coal and container terminals.

As we approached the Yacht Club, we called on our VHF. They had a full waiting list, they told us, but could tie up for a short period on the outside of the breakwater. Rushbrook Marina, the city dock, was full also and anchoring was impossible in the deep water off the marinas. With winds and waves pushing Osprey on the breakwater, I grabbed the errant cell phone and ran to the pay phone. I first called the cell phone service provider, who said it wasn't their problem, I had to call the cell phone maker. Fortunately, the fix was simple -- a generic password.

Now we had to get off the dock against wind and current. Yacht Club staff pulled Opsrey's bow in while we backed -- relieved to be out of an uncomfortable situation. We motored across the harbor and dropped anchor in Pillsbury Cove. We had a view of the city -- with its restaurants, grocery stores and wi-fi -- so close yet so far. And all because we forgot to turn our cell phone off.