Monday the 28th ended up being very rainy the entire day. We stayed inside, napped, read books in the cockpit with the rain pattering on the canvas, and made good food, including another loaf of bread and some dessert/breakfast focaccia (really like a cinnamon roll focaccia, sorry-not-sorry Italy). Being able to stay cozy and comfortable in such conditions really makes Kestrel a perfect boat for this region.

Less rainy, but just as gray, our activities on Tuesday weren’t much different: the last piece of overnight-risen dough from the previous day became a pizza, fig & apple with blue cheese (and gruyere and cheddar–we’re running low on cheese options now). Delicious.

That evening though, we got satellite texts from our shore support contacts that there was a tsunami warning for the area. Tuning into VHF 16 we heard the same from the Canadian Coast Guard station in Prince Rupert. As it was a calm evening, we decided it was better to be safe than very, very sorry, pulled anchor around 8:30pm, and motored out into the calm-but-rolly Hecate Strait about a mile and a half from the nearest shoreline in 300-500 feet of water, deeper even than the at least 180 feet of depth the Coast Guard was recommending boat owners get their boats out to in the area.

We stayed out until 2am, very tired, going back to anchor in about 60 feet of water in Keeweenah with 200 feet of chain and the Mantus bridle on, just in cast late, smaller surge waves came through. We never noticed any, but slept in until 10am.

Not too long before we started to head back to our anchorage, a group of small storm petrels (it seemed to be a mix of fork-tailed and Leach’s) started swarming around the boat, apparently confused by our navigation and steaming lights. They were doing a mix of flying around the boat, landing on the boat, and crash landing on the boat; a few times I had to gently get one untangled from some lines, but they seemed ok, if confused by the lights. The deck light we needed to have on to anchor didn’t help matters exactly, but once we got all the lights off, after a while we stopped hearing their tittering and the patter of their tiny, webbed feet. I don’t like handling wildlife unless absolutely necessary, but they were incredibly light-weight–a small parrot of a similar size is nearly twice as heavy from what I remember from experience, and they didn’t struggle as I gently helped them get untangled, or in one case, lifted it out of the chain locker it had gotten into. We had to be careful while anchoring not to step on any that were on the deck, some wandering around, others settling down to sit.

Wednesday the 30th was a sunny turnaround from the previous two days, with only a few fluffy clouds in the distance and blue skies otherwise. Some late morning fog formed over shore in our anchorage before dissipating around noon.

We had dinner reservations made via our satellite email address with Rose Harbour Kitchen for Wednesday evening, alongside a tour group from Moresby Explorers, so pulled anchor from Keeweenah Bay to head back to Rose Harbour, anchoring in nearly the same spot as before. A beautiful heavy fog was rolling up into Rose Inlet from the south, and the view from the anchorage was stunning!

My partner and I arrived a few minutes early for dinner and waited outside on the deck with the bottle of wine we’d brought for ourselves; Rose Harbour Kitchen supplies the food and water, but any other drinks are bring-your-own. The dinner was delightful. Primarily vegetarian, with one course of salmon, the theme of the evening was local ingredients with Indian spices and techniques. We had a fantastic time talking with the other guests about our trip so far, experiences in the Gwaii Haanas, and what they’d seen and would like to see.

The fog flowing into Rose Inlet continued into the evening past sunset.