Photo: Surf on rocks in Queen Charlotte Strait

What a difference a month makes! Or is it the year? Our trip north this year was amazingly pleasant. Was it because we left a month later or is this just a better year? (Probably both.)

We left Port McNeill in the remnants of an offshore storm, crossing Queen Charlotte Strait in windless rough seas and ducking behind islands to get out of the swells before running for shelter in Skull Cove, just south of Cape Caution. That was the last of the bad weather. By the next morning the seas were down, the sun was out, and the wind was blowing from the northwest at 15 knots. (Of course, that was the direction we were going.) We tacked up the coast, rounding Cape Caution under sail, then tacking up Fitz Hugh Sound past a herd of breaching humpbacks to Green Island Anchorage - 54 miles to weather in one day.

The next day, we sailed almost all the way to Codville Lagoon before the wind died. When we first anchored in Codville ten years ago, I assumed it was named for the fish and imagined giant cod lived there. But in fact, it was named for someone named Codville. It's now a marine park with a short narrow entrance and a large anchorage framed by rocky hills. In past years we've watched bears browse on the shore and osprey dive for fish. This year we were rewarded with the sight of two white-sided dolphins circling the bay.

We timed our arrival at Shearwater on July 1 to enjoy the festivities of Canada Day, only to learn they'd been postponed to the weekend. But the restaurant was advertising Canadian themed drink (think beer) and Canadian themed food. The Canadian themed food was Canadian pizza, surely an oxymoron. We passed in favor of the salmon.

We left Shearwater under sunny skies and sailed out Seaforth Channel and up Finlayson Sound in good breezes to Klemtu where we anchored off the beautiful longhouse. Klemtu is the only native band that has embraced salmon farming and rumor has it their longhouse was paid for by the fish farming companies.

From Klemtu we motored through Meyers Passage to Laredo Sound where we raised sail and tacked up Laredo Channel between Princess Royal Island on the east and Aristazabel Island on the west. Clouds hid the sun and we both donned foul weather gear. As we took a reef in the main, I began to think this northwest wind was just a bit too much of a good thing. We finally anchored for the night in Helmcken Inlet, a small bay entered through a very narrow rockbound channel. The anchorage was deep and rocky and I slept fitfully, awakened several times by anchor chain rumbling across the bottom and waves that came out of nowhere on a windless night.

From Helmcken Inlet, we had an easy sail to the north end of Laredo Channel then south to Borrowman Bay on the west coast of Aristazabel Island. The sky was blue and the wind light (and once we turned south, going in our direction). The islands here are low and rocky with windswept trees. There wasn't a boat in sight and we looked forward to a peaceful night in a deserted anchorage before crossing Hecate Strait. It was not to be. As we approached Borrowman Bay, a fleet of garish yellowish green sportsfishing boats came tearing out at high speed. Then as we rounded the point, we saw a massive floating hotel. We anchored around the corner out of sight of the hotel and were relaxing in the cockpit when suddenly a large red seaplane roared over the trees and flew through the cove so close to our boat I feared it would hit us. The smell of turboprop airplane fuel filled the bay. Half an hour later, the plane left, taxiing around us before taking off in another roar and blast of fuel. The boats and the seaplane left me wondering about the future of a culture that can take a relaxing sport (fishing) and turned it into a high stress carbon-gobbling monster!