Wildlife Photography from a Boat

Distant mountains silhouetted from Johnstone Strait

One of my favorite activities aboard AVATAR is kayaking in calm conditions with my camera, sneaking up on wildlife. It’s a bit of a process. In the South Pacific’s warm waters, I just went on my way wearing a swimsuit, knowing I could swim to shore, but here in the frigid northern waters, running somewhere around 50 degrees Fahrenheit, a kayaker’s life vest is a must. It doesn’t take long submerged in water that cold before arms and legs stop working efficiently. Knock on wood, I’ve never capsized in my kayak – not counting the occasional misstep when climbing in or out a bit too casually from AVATAR’s swim step. Here I take the balancing act seriously.

The fact that I am carting around a multi-thousand-dollar camera system also invites caution. I stash the camera in a sealed dry bag and don’t bring it aboard until I’m settled securely myself. And I never untie the painter from AVATAR’s cleat until my paddle is clutched safely in hand as well. But once organized, as long as the water is calm, no problem. Wind and waves screw up the photography anyhow making it not worth the bother. Wind blows the kayak past my subject before I can frame a shot, and waves slosh the little boat up and down making focusing a challenge, plus it’s hard work paddling upwind back to home base!

My kayak is an inflatable model, soft and squishy, comfortable as a pair of old slippers, and not particularly tippy. I’ve scraped bottom on coral and rock and it seems impervious to punctures. They don’t make the model I have anymore. I wore out my first one and found an identical replacement on Craig’s List, but I don’t know what I’ll do when this one bites the dust. It’s already past its prime. Every model I’ve tried for a backup has not lived up to the comfort level and ease of handling of my little orange and black transport.

Raccoon foraging in the Octopus Islands

Raccoon foraging in the Octopus Islands

Baby raccoon in the Octopus Islands

Baby raccoon in the Octopus Islands

With all the windy weather, we spent a fair amount of time hiding out in protected coves where you would never have guessed it was howling in the Johnstone Strait. My favorite spot was a little channel in the Octopus Islands, only navigable at high tide. At low tide it was a dry rock gully. I cruised through three days in a row, twice in my kayak and once in the small dinghy with Mike along for company. Each time I encountered the same raccoon, identifiable by a white scar on her nose, foraging at water’s edge for seaweed and shellfish. She seemed habituated to human sightseers and was quite tolerant of being followed and photographed. On the last day we heard a lot of chatter in the forest and eventually a pair of kits made an appearance as well. The youngsters were much more wide-eyed at the sight of a foreign object floating near their beach.

Oystercatcher and sea wrack at sunset, Boat Bay

Oystercatcher and sea wrack at sunset, Boat Bay

Another favorite spot was Boat Bay where I was able to get close to an oystercatcher late in the day during the aptly named ‘Golden Hour’. This time of year here in the northern latitudes the light is prettiest beginning around 8 p.m. until sunset as late as 10. The majority of mornings were grey and foggy, especially as we traveled north to the Broughtons, eliminating any opportunity for early morning sunrise shoots. As a result we mostly relaxed and slept in. I developed a pattern of waking to the light, climbing up the stairs from our master cabin to the great room to check the weather conditions in hopes of a clear sky, and then going back to bed for another hour or two of sleep.

'Stampede' of Pacific white-sided dolphins, Laura Bay

‘Stampede’ of Pacific white-sided dolphins, Laura Bay

This habit gave provided an extremely lucky break one morning when we were anchored in Laura Bay. Kayaking the night before had been a bit of a disappointment – the shoreline unvaried with a ledge of rock exposed by low tide and topped by drooping evergreen boughs but without a living creature in sight for subject matter except one shy duck. But next morning as I took my usual quick peek out the windows, I saw a froth of white water stretching across the mouth of the bay where it opened into the channel.

I grabbed the binoculars, thinking that the current was racing much more strongly than expected. Instead it turned out to be a ‘stampede’ of perhaps a hundred or more Pacific white-sided dolphins racing headlong directly into our anchorage, churning up a tsunami-like wave accompanied by the roaring noise of turbulent water. The dolphins headed straight towards AVATAR where we were anchored and sped past, made a wide U-turn when the bay turned shallow and then rushed out again, still at full speed, until they disappeared down the channel.

Salmon jumping, Johnstone Strait

Salmon jumping, Johnstone Strait

I’ve always wanted to photograph a fish jumping, but up until now it has been a statistical improbability – not knowing when or where a fish might jump makes it pretty much impossible to be prepared with a camera in time to frame and focus the shot. But here the salmon are arriving early and in droves and they are jumping like crazy, presumably in training for their spawning runs up the local creeks and rivers. Helpfully, a salmon will jump two or three times in a row, offering the chance to spot him on jump one and be focused and ready to take the shot on the next. I’m hoping next trip to be able to photograph the grizzlies upstream as they gorge on the salmon runs come late August, early September.

For the first time ever, in ten years of cruising, I have my really big wildlife lens with me – a 600mm monstrosity too heavy to hand hold. It weighs more than 11 pounds and measures 17.5″ long x 6.5″ wide. Too big to carry on international flights to the South Pacific, it wasn’t until AVATAR arrived this past fall in San Diego that we were able to drive from Tucson in our car and bring the lens aboard. As it turns out, AVATAR’s uncluttered foredeck makes a great tripod platform for photographing sea life when the sea is smooth, or birds on a quiet morning. I’m still hoping for bears, wolves, cougars or deer – all abundant in this part of the world.

Humpback whale tail, Blackfish Sound

Humpback whale tail, Blackfish Sound

In Blackfish Sound, blackfish being the historical name originally applied to Orcas (killer whales), we spent a late afternoon pursuing humpbacks. While I scout and shoot from the foredeck, Mike patiently drives the boat following my hand signals through the windshield – fast, slow, left, right, stop. He even figured out my 3 gesture signing that meant ‘boat – really big – behind you!’ which turned out to be a cruise ship, already showing up on our electronics.

From a distance usually the first sign of a whale is the spout, or blow as we’ve learned to call it, in the distance. But in Blackfish Sound they were so close that often it was the loud “whoosh” of their expelled breath that alerted us to their presence. That sound never fails to give me a thrill – there is something very personal about hearing a whale breathe. Sometimes we hear the dolphins breathing as well when they are quietly feeding – a quick much softer “poof” of sound.

Male Orca, Blackney Passage

Male Orca, Blackney Passage

The following morning was our final day cruising as Mike set the alarm for 6:30 a.m. Our passage was optimally timed to navigate 80 nautical miles down the Johnstone Strait through Race Rapids and the dreaded Seymour Narrows to our reserved marina berth in Campbell River. I complained bitterly when he woke up early and decided to get underway an hour ahead of schedule – but it turned into a hugely successful departure as we glided through reflective glassy water, surrounded by foraging Orcas and not a whale-watching tourist boat to avoid at that early hour! The killer whales (they are actually oversized members of the dolphin family) were beside us, in front of us, behind us, and to the left and right. We lingered for that entire extra hour while I photographed them with my 600 from the foredeck wearing sweats and wet socks and shivering in the early morning chill.

The gallery below contains the blog photos and some additions, playable as a slideshow.

Moon, Tide, Wind & Current

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Supermoon from Boat Bay anchorage on July 12, 2014

The title says a great deal about navigating in this part of the world. Mike and I have been exploring a section of the Inside Passage which extends more than 1,000 miles from Washington’s Puget Sound all the way to Skagway in Southeast Alaska. But we confined our explorations to the southern portion along the eastern shore of Vancouver Island, up to but no farther than the Broughton Archipelago, a stretch of some 350 miles not taking into account detours and driving in circles watching for whales!

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Agamemnon Strait en route to Princess Louisa Inlet

There are thousands of islands in this area tangled in a labyrinth of waterways. The major inlets wind their way between evergreen cloaked hills to the feet of snow capped mountains and glaciers, including 13,186 foot Mt. Waddington. As the tides rise and fall, the water floods and ebbs through the passes, channels and straits. At the peak of high and low tides, both of which occur twice a day, water races through some of these constrictions at a velocity in knots that can reach double digits creating rapids, whirlpools and overfalls – all conditions to be avoided in a yacht, especially when complicated by the presence of hazardous rocks!

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Malibu Rapids, entrance to Princess Louisa Inlet, at sunrise

As a result we are armed with multiple cruising guides and Canadian Hydrographic Service charts & sailing directions to help calculate best strategy and timing to get from here to there. The best practice is to navigate the rapids at or near slack tide when the water flow  is at its calmest. At each critical bottleneck a parade of boats converge to await optimum transit time. Our very first experience was the Malibu Rapids entrance to Princess Louisa Inlet – a short skinny blind S-turn only wide enough for one boat at a time with rocky shoals to port and starboard . The recommended strategy here is to broadcast via VHF radio channel 16 a “securité, securité, securité” announcement of your intent to enter or exit the channel, giving oncoming boats time to make their presence known.

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Fishing trawler in the fog, Blackfish Sound

Wind force and direction need to be taken into consideration as well – strong winds opposing the direction of the current rapidly create a whitewater cauldron of steep choppy waves that can create havoc with small boats. We did learn over time that the winds are generally quiet in the morning, build to a crescendo in the afternoon, and die away again come evening (we also learned that the weather service apparently overstates the wind conditions). When it is too fierce to travel, there are many pleasant protected anchorages for waiting out the weather. However often we found that on the light wind days, foggy conditions and drizzle plagued us instead.

As newbies to the area, and without the security blanket of our experienced Captain Rod on board, we took every guidebook warning and weather forecast devoutly to heart. For the first few weeks of our cruise the weather service constantly broadcast gale force wind warnings of 25-40 knots in the Johnstone Strait, a critical waterway for traveling either north or south. The windy conditions were accompanied by the buildup to July 12th’s supermoon, which exaggerated the tides to an even greater extent than a plain old regular moon. But as we followed instructions to the letter (and let other yachts precede us), each transit gave us more confidence to negotiate the next. By yesterday, the end of our explorations for the time being, we had built up nerve to tackle the Seymour Narrows.

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At sunset a cruise ship sails north in the Discovery Passage towards the Seymour Narrows

Just north of our layover marina in Campbell River is the most notorious section of the Inside Passage. Cruise ships making the run between Alaska and Seattle time their entire itinerary around the optimum time (which changes every day) to navigate the Narrows. At maximum flood the flow can reach 16 knots (AVATAR’s normal cruising speed is 9-10 knots). Prior to 1958 a large submerged rock, Ripple Rock, generated hazardous turbulence and whirlpool activity to such an extent that twenty or more large vessels were sunk over the years and more than 100 lives lost. In 1958, after several years of preparation (and the loss of more lives in the process), Ripple Rock was dynamited into oblivion in the largest non-nuclear explosion in history up to that time.

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Iron Lady in Kanish Bay

Our transit was perfectly timed and non-eventful, although the turbulence argued with the autopilot, pushing AVATAR’s bow left and right as we went through. We followed a tug towing a barge stacked high with shipping containers at a respectful distance, and right behind us was AVATAR’s sister ship Iron Lady, hull #3 of the FPB 64s, who is also exploring this part of the world. We caught up with Iron Lady for the first time yesterday in Kanish Bay where we both lingered, photographing each other, until time to head into the Narrows. Iron Lady has been cruising the South Pacific since launch, and arrived in British Columbia mid-May by way of Hawaii.

Two identical distinctive vessels in the same neighborhood have caused quite a bit of commentary. At each marina and anchorage, AVATAR is mistaken for Iron Lady who has preceded us. Our unusual yachts have garnered more than the average amount of attention here in Canada, possibly because boaters here recognize a serious boat when they see one. Curious sightseers check us out each time we tie up at a new marina – at Port McNeill the sailboat berthed just in front of us commented that our arrival had really increased the foot traffic on our shared section of dock.

We’ve had a great adventure, with more to share about wildlife and wilderness cruising, but that will be the subject of the next blog. AVATAR is now secure in a marina and Mike and I are headed back to the states in a few days, flying from Campbell River to Seattle by float plane, and then on to New York City for my photography exhibition and artists’ reception July 31 plus a few weeks of catch-up at home before we return for phase two of our Pacific Northwest adventures.

The gallery below contains the blog photos and some additions, playable as a slideshow.

Happy 4th from North of the Border!

CBPP_20140701_BritCol-181AVATAR is now in Canadian waters and Mike and I are cruising alone, just the two of us, while Rod and May have gone home to the other side of the world for a much delayed vacation!  We’re suffering the challenges of making repairs on the fly in a foreign country, but even a refrigerator breakdown offered a silver lining. Because we needed to find a refrigeration technician, we cruised in to Campbell River’s Discovery Harbour Marina and happened to arrive on July 1 which is Canada Day! So we beat you Americans in regards to holiday celebrations - as soon as it turned dark (10:30 pm here in the northern latitudes) I was able to set up my tripod and camera on AVATAR’s upper deck to photograph the fireworks display across the water.

CBPP_20140703_CampbellRiver-270-MIt took a couple of days to round up a technician who could fit us into his busy summer schedule, so I signed up for a wildlife tour and spent yesterday on the water with Eagle Eye Adventures in a big powerful Zodiac. Orcas were first and foremost on everybody’s mind. As soon as we were all bundled up in our survival suits, reminiscent of the snowsuit I wore as a preschooler during Illinois winters, we zoomed off into the Strait of Georgia looking for whales. Fortunately the wildlife tour operators share sightings via radio, so our guide Jos already knew there were Orcas and in which direction. It was a bit of a gray day and the water was pretty rough in the strait. We pounded through the waves at high speed, although not up to the Zodiac’s full capability of 50 knots, and found a pod of transient (as opposed to resident) Orcas in the process of feeding.

CBPP_20140703_CampbellRiver-716-MAt first the Orcas were milling about casually with some tail-slapping as they fed, but once their bellies were full they turned exuberant and soon we were treated to an awesome exhibition of multiple breaches. Even Jos, who goes out Orca hunting seven days a week, was pumped by the extreme athleticism these whales were displaying. My lucky shot of the day came when a whale breached right off the starboard stern of another tour boat, completely soaking the occupants, followed 8 seconds later (per the EXIF data on my photo files) by a second amazing full body breach off their port bow. I’ve shared the photo with the parties involved and it is already taking life on the internet and I’ve had a request to have it published in the local newspaper. At first glance it looks totally fake but I assure you that the only Photoshop applied was to crop, straighten and color correct. Other than that, the image documents exactly what we all saw – except for the folks on the other boat who were still peering off their stern!

MatriarchWhen the Orca action died down, Jos took us into nearby aptly named Calm Channel in search of other wildlife. Bald eagles especially are in abundance. This slightly scruffy looking matriarch has a broken beak, but still heads up an entire flock of eagles all perched in the treetops surrounding her vantage point. In the forest canopy the bright white heads stand out like golf balls on a putting green and I counted at least eight in one go. Bald eagles are a dime a dozen in this neck of the woods. Two of them are hanging out here in the marina, stationed on signposts along the breakwater, to the consternation of the local seagulls.

CBPP_20140703_CampbellRiver-1430-MAfter the Orcas, the other big game we all hoped to see were bears. Again shared information steered us to a black bear at the water’s edge, feasting on the mussels exposed at low tide. She was totally unconcerned with her floating audience and we were able to drift in for a good close up view.

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The gallery below contains the blog photos and some additions, playable as a slideshow.

PS – The refrigerator is working again and we’re headed north for more adventures, and hopefully more Orcas!

 

 

AVATAR on the Move!

 

 

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After the long dry spell impounded in Mexico, AVATAR is on the move again! Once safely back in San Diego we attacked the backlog of repair and refit projects in express mode and finally, better than new, hit the sea lanes heading north to Seattle. In case Captain Rod’s skills were a bit on the rusty side, we hired on a new navigator to steer us through the tricky parts. Meet the newest addition to our crew, Captain Jack Sparrow;-)

Thurs April 29 - We sailed from San Diego to Marina del Rey where we spent the night, then departed at first light the following morning. There was an amazing amount of sea life near Marina del Rey, flourishing directly beneath the approach pattern for LAX!  Heading north we had frequent sightings of humpback whales including a breach, and I got a brief glimpse of my very first Orcas in the wild. Several times we were accompanied by exuberant pods of dolphins, both Bottlenose and (another first) Pacific White-Sided Dolphins. I was particularly pleased with these three images I managed to capture of the latter!

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We’re trying to make good time, having been forewarned that once the Pacific High sets in over the summer months, this northbound passage can get pretty unpleasant or, at worst, impossible.  Our wind and wave conditions were so favorable we made an on-the-fly decision to press on, bypassing Morro Bay and making an overnight passage to our next stop, Monterey. In Monterey we enjoyed a couple days sightseeing as the marina was in walking distance of Cannery Row and historic Old Town Monterey. At night we slept to the background chorus of hundreds of barking harbor seals who apparently don’t sleep.

CBPP_20140501_Monterey-094-MlkThe awesome Monterey Bay Aquarium is a must-see. The jellyfish are mesmerizing and, no, this photo was not taken in the water! Water temps are in the 50s, a far cry from the South Pacific’s 80 degree average, and I firmly believe our scuba gear is retired for the duration. Mike is having flashbacks to earlier decades when we raced small yachts in Northern California; recounting his memories of past regattas at each whistle stop as we sail past! My most vivid memory of sailing in these parts is capsizing in a Snipe race in San Francisco Bay and being so cold, even though promptly pulled out by the Rescue Boat, that I couldn’t hold a cup of coffee in my shivering hands!

From Monterey it was a daysail north into San Francisco Bay, making our grand entrance beneath the span of the Golden Gate Bridge before heading to the eastern shore of the Bay to spend a few nights in Sausalito. Here we were expecting a layover of nearly a week until a weather system with strong offshore winds subsided, but the forecast changed and shortened our visit to three days.

Gung ho sightseeing in the Bay Area started with a three mile hike to Cavallo Point Lodge, situated on the grounds of historic Fort Baker, for a view of the lodge’s art exhibit of life-size whale photographs taken by Brian Austin. We enjoyed an elegant lunch on the restaurant deck and then, apparently victims of excessive adrenalin (or boat cabin fever), we all elected to continue on and hike across the Golden Gate Bridge to the San Francisco side. In the city we took a quick tour of the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate park before gratefully flagging down a taxi to transport us to the Ferry Building to catch a ride back to Sausalito. The walk from Sausalito’s ferry dock to our marina home base was an additional mile. Altogether my iPhone GPS says we walked 8 1/2 miles that day!

Sausalito is a charming destination town full of quaint shops, art galleries, and great (but pricey) restaurants. It is also home of the Bay Model, an impressive 1 1/2 acre working model of the currents and flow of the waters of San Francisco Bay and surroundings. Construction of the model was funded initially by Congress in the 1950s to study the effects of a proposal to completely dam up the Bay and turn it into a freshwater reservoir serving the water needs of California! Fortunately the Bay Model proved the folly of what would have created a massive environmental disaster and the plan was abandoned.

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On the outskirts of Sausalito the landscape quickly transitions to beautiful rolling countryside. Mike and I rented a car and spent a day in the coastal redwoods of Muir Woods, followed by a brief drive to the top of Mt. Tamalpais for a spectacular overview of San Francisco Bay (another flashback moment).

San Francisco was Mike’s getting-off point, so at 5:30 a.m. Thursday morning we dumped him unceremoniously off the boat to make his own way (rental car) to SFO and a flight home, while I stayed on board with Rod and May and the three of us sailed away under the Golden Gate Bridge in beautiful dawn light. It turned into an awesome photo op and I was amazed at the variety of images I was able to capture of this iconic structure. We had been warned of rough patches of water exiting the Bay but again, due to good weather and Rod’s impeccable planning, we enjoyed light winds and smooth water with following waves, a good recipe for keeping the photographs in focus!

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Click on the first image in the thumbnails below to start a full screen slideshow of the previous photos and more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mexican Standoff

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My apologies for the six month hiatus since my last post back in September! AVATAR made a heroic journey cross-Pacific in October on the heels of our last Tongan adventure. The crew sailed non-stop from Vava’u to Honolulu, arriving on the heels of the US budget sequester. They laid over for a week in the Waikiki Yacht Club marina, taking a well-deserved break and also wading through the paperwork required for the yacht to make formal entry into the country. Then AVATAR embarked on another non-stop passage from Honolulu to San Diego. All in all, some 4500 miles in just a few weeks time. An impressive resume for this capable vessel.

SAM_2897In mid-November, after a couple of weeks in San Diego doing some spring cleaning, Rod and crew sailed 70 miles south to Ensenada, Mexico, to have antifoul bottom paint applied in a boatyard there. That project went well, and in a few days AVATAR was ready to return to San Diego to prep for our next cruising adventure.

And that’s when it all went south – literally! On November 26 a Mexican federal taxation agency called AGACE, equivalent to our IRS, raided marinas across Mexico including Marina Coral where AVATAR was berthed. The inspectors were accompanied by three truckloads of heavily armed (as in machine guns) marines. They seized 47 boats in our marina, AVATAR included, and hundreds more across Mexico and placed them all under “precautionary embargo”, supposedly investigating whether the boats were legally in the country with the appropriate documentation (a $50 permit good for 10 years is all that is required). Across Mexico a total of 348 foreign owned yachts were impounded and not allowed to leave port!

2 HIN forepeak B-2In our specific case the paperwork was in order but the inspectors could not find AVATAR’s hull identification number. Take a look at this photo that Rod took in Ensenada days after the ‘bust’ – on the exterior our HIN is permanently engraved exactly where it is supposed to be on the starboard transom, as well as 3 inch high letters engraved inside the forepeak, also according to regulation! Not only could the inspectors not find the number, they didn’t bother to ask to be shown it, even though AVATAR’s captain was present and available.

The marina management and attorneys spent months hustling between Ensenada, Tijuana, and Mexico City trying to sort this mess out, but to no avail. Their own businesses were also suffering from the negative publicity. On our own behalf I started contacting Arizona’s senators, the US Consulate in Tijuana, our insurance company, and attorneys on both sides of the border in pursuit of a resolution.

In the meantime our cruising plans came to a grinding halt – and the idyllic February trip down the coast of Baja visiting the gray whales en route to Panama – will never, EVER, happen now – as we will never consider cruising (or spending American dollars) in Mexico again. In the meanwhile we kept quiet in the blogging department, not wanting to attract negative attention from the Mexican agencies involved.

Latitude 38, a boating magazine based in San Francisco and a passionate advocate of Mexico boating for more than 30 years, took a more vocal stance. The editor’s catamaran ‘Profligate’ was also a victim of the yacht seizure further south in the Puerto Vallarta vicinity. Latitude 38 published a series of stories escalating in outrage as the fiasco dragged on. The Associated Press released a story on January 10, US, Canadian Boaters Left in Limbo in Mexico, that appeared in newspapers worldwide. Mexico’s highly respected newspaper Reforma, made it front page news with a headline that roughly translates to “Mexican IRS makes a shipwreck of nautical tourism”.

The raid took place almost four months ago to the day, during which time the authorities followed what they termed ‘procedure’. A better description might be ‘saving face’. In February word started trickling in that some boats were being ‘freed’. But somehow Ensenada and AVATAR wound up on the bottom of the list. This past Friday, finally, we received documents affirming that we had entered the country legally and had been there legally the entire time – AND that we are the legitimate owners of our own boat! The release document is in excess of 100 pages, releasing not only AVATAR but all other boats still impounded. We’re on page 95! Finally this brings to an end an embarrassing and very costly episode for Mexico and its tourism industry, which has taken a big hit over this heavy-handed and bungled government action.  As I write this, AVATAR is sailing north out of Mexican waters back to our waiting berth at Kona Kai Marina in San Diego. When I get the word she is safely back in the US, I will hit the Publish button!

Our original cruising plans for 2014 were to head to the east coast of the US, starting from San Diego in early February with a leisurely cruise down the west coast of Mexico, continuing on through the Panama Canal, across the Gulf towards the Caribbean, and up to Ft. Lauderdale. From there Mike and I planned a spring/summer of exploratory cruising up the Intracoastal Waterway from Florida to the Chesapeake, with opportunities to entertain the grandkids on board now that AVATAR was no longer thousands of miles away in the South Pacific.

Instead, this four month hiatus threw the entire schedule into disarray – as we would now be arriving during the onset of hurricane season, not to mention the hot summer weather. So we are still reevaluating our options, but for now it looks like the Pacific Northwest is in our sights for this summer’s cruising, and any trips to the east coast are delayed by at least a year. We still need to invest some time into repairs and refitting, now that we have access to the resources needed.

To be fair, this entire unpleasant episode could have been much worse. Our crew was allowed to stay aboard AVATAR and continue to maintain her, and they were free to come and go themselves. Our worst fear – that our boat would be permanently forfeited over to the Mexican government – turned out to be unfounded although it caused us many sleepless nights during the first few months. No money ever exchanged hands – no fines were levied, no hands extended for bribes. I made a few new friends, as I am now on a first name basis with the editor of Latitude 38 and a member of the US Consulate in Tijuana! The attorneys we consulted declined to charge a fee, both saying they were doing the other a favor! Ensenada is a reasonably pleasant place to spend the winter months, as Rod compared his detention there to being ‘locked in a golden cage’.

If you are interested in more details about the scenario, I’m including links to the majority of the stories published.

Dec 20 – Latitude 38 Is Mexico Committing Nautical Suicide?

Dec 23 – Latitude 38 Foreign Yachts in Mexico Update

Dec 30 – Latitude 38 The Latest on ‘Impounded’ Boats in Mexico

Jan 33 – Latitude38 Why Mexico is Still a Third World Country

Jan 8 – Latitude 38 The Poop From Impounded Boats in Mexico Hits the Fan

Jan 10 – Associated Press US, Canadian Boaters Left in Limbo in Mexico

Jan 10 – Latitude 38 Foreign Boat Impoundment Story Goes Mainstream

Jan 15 – Latitude 38 Hundreds of Foreign Boats Remain Impounded in Mexico

Jan 17 – Latitude 38 The Dreadful Impoundment Fiasco in Mexico Endures

Jan 22 – Latitude 38 The Latest Update on Impounded Boats

Jan 27 – Latitude 38 Mexico Puts Lipstick on a Pig

Jan 28 – Latitude 38 ‘Mexico’s New York Times’ Blasts Mexico’s IRS

Jan 30 – Latitude 38 Breaking News on Boats Impounded in Mexico

Feb 3 – Latitude 38 Thirty More Foreign Yachts “Liberated” in Mexico

Feb 5 – Latitude 38 More Impounded Boats “Liberated” in Mexico

Feb 7 – Guadalajara Reporter Mexico ‘Frees’ Impounded Boats Amid Huge Damage to Nautical Tourism

Feb 14 – Latitude 38 More Impounded Boats To Be Released

Feb 17 – Latitude 38 Finally, Solid Numbers on Impounded Boats

Mar 3 – Latitude 38 The Fiasco South of the Border Isn’t Over Yet

Mar 5 – McClatchy DC U.S. Boat Owners Still Struggling With Fallout From Mexican Tax Investigation

Mar 24 – Latitude 38 Finally Release of Boats from Ensenada

Close Encounter

CBPP_20130831_Whale-122-MWe’ve been treated to beautiful weather in Tonga, with sunny skies and crystalline clear water vibrant in shades of blue and turquoise. But day before yesterday a storm moved in bringing gray skies and rain. The colors wash out of the world and the ocean turns leaden, the green of the palms turns drab. It’s a cozy feeling at night to sleep dry and warm in our bed listening to the sound of raindrops splattering on the hatch overhead. It rained steadily all night, but the downpour quit by morning although the sky was still overcast. We stayed in our anchorage all morning doing some housekeeping – laundry at the top of the list.

But after lunch we’d had enough of chores so we decided to change anchorages and scout for whales en route. The ocean was empty, no whales or whale watching boats in sight. We eventually spotted a very distant blow and were headed towards it with faint hope of catching up with the whale, when I saw a much closer blow 90º to port. So we changed direction and pointed AVATAR towards our new target.

CBPP_20130831_Whale2-103-MLuck was entirely on our side this time. We had found a mother and very young calf that were floating quietly near the surface. They showed no signs of avoiding us or moving on, and no licensed whale boat operators were in the vicinity. Finally I couldn’t resist the opportunity and peeled off my clothes (swimsuit already on underneath) and grabbed the underwater camera which luckily was assembled and ready to go. There was a mad scramble finding the bare necessities – fins, mask and snorkel, forgoing wet suit and booties – and then I eased into the water off the boat’s swim step ladder.

The two whales were maybe 150 feet off our stern and I located them instantly through my camera’s viewfinder. I swam slowly and carefully towards them, minimizing any splashing or sudden movement, and they allowed me to approach without showing any inclination to depart. At one point they did aim directly away from me and I thought they would swim off, but instead their path curved around and slowly, imperceptibly, they drifted towards me until I found myself eye to eye with mama, while baby hovered on the surface just above her dorsal fin, the pair of them checking me out. I was close enough to feel I could reach out and touch her long pectoral fins, and eventually I had to start backpedaling in fear of making accidental physical contact.

The calf seemed very young to my eyes, but had a surprising amount of scarring on her body and her left eye was closed in almost every one of my 400+ photos – leading us to believe she suffered some sort tumble in the coral or other mishap. Mom was still giving her some assistance with surfacing to breathe. The opportunity to swim alone and close to a cooperating whale is a rare and awe-inspiring experience. It is truly amazing that a mother whale with such a young baby would be trusting enough to allow such a close approach without showing any signs of anxiety or disturbance. Perhaps she was giving her daughter a first introduction to the human species!

CBPP_20130831_Whale-211-MI was with them for quite a long time, photographing continuously when I caught a glimpse of a third whale further out. That seemed a good indicator to end the encounter so I started back towards AVATAR. On board they were all starting to call me back in at the same time. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, the third whale had arrived behind me at high speed and put on quite a show including a full body breach and some vigorous tail smacking. Whether he was showing off for the female, or indicating displeasure at my presence, is an unknown – but either way it was definitely time to get out of the water.

CBPP_20130831_Whale2-216-MMike on board had grabbed my second camera with the long lens – not knowing how to use it he took quite a few severely out of focus shots, but he did grab a frame of me snorkeling with the two whales, and also captured the impressive splash of the breaching whale (but sadly not the breach itself).  Still dripping, I switched cameras in time to catch whale number three still tail actively tail lobbing.

Gallery of Whale Photos

Swallows’ Cave and Mariner’s Cave

CBPP_20130830_Mourelle-209-MJust around the corner from Neiafu near an anchorage named Port Mourelle (after the Spaniard Don Francisco Antonio Mourelle who was the first European to land in Vava’u), are two well-known tourist destinations – a pair of caves in the porous limestone of the islands. Swallows’ Cave yawns cavernously above the waterline with geological features that look very much like tonsils. A small boat or dinghy can sail right into the mouth and enjoy the cathedral like ambience and the colorful Tongan graffiti scrawled on the walls. We took the requisite dinghy tour and then scuba dived to explore the cavern depths.

CBPP_20130830_Mourelle-199-MCBPP_20130830_Mourelle-206-MCBPP_20130830_Mourelle-222-MClose by is the second landmark, Mariner’s Cave. This one is a bit trickier to locate, because the entrance to the cave is hidden underwater. We’ve been there before but still passed it by in the dinghy, searching for the underwater opening. It wasn’t until afterwards that we spotted the two large pink graffiti arrows painted on the limestone cliffs pointing straight down towards the opening – duh!

CBPP_20130830_Mourelle-060-M-2CBPP_20130830_Mourelle-071-MStrong swimmers can snorkel into the cave by diving to a depth of 6 feet or so and then traversing laterally some 13 feet under the ledge before ascending to the water’s surface inside the cave. The cave offers an interesting atmospheric phenomenon. Incoming ocean swells trap air inside the cave and each time the waves recede, every few seconds, the air inside fogs up due to the water vapor cooling as it expands. The fog comes and goes every few seconds with the wave action. Lit by sunlight filtered through seawater, the water inside the cave glows with an ethereal blue.

There is a second entrance to the cave deeper down, at about 15 meters. As scuba divers we were able to come and go at our leisure, without having to hold our breath!

Mariner’s Cave is named for Will Mariner, a British ship’s boy. His ship was attacked and overrun by Tongan natives in the Ha’apai Group back in 1806 but he survived and became a favorite of chief Finau, who used Will’s knowledge of gunnery to help wage war on the neighboring islands using captured cannons from the raided privateer.

Will Mariner spent some four years in Tonga before he finally convinced the king’s son to let him leave  Tonga aboard a passing English ship. He eventually returned to London, married, raised 12 children, and became a stockbroker on the London exchange. He wrote a book called “An Account of the Natives of the Tongan Islands” which is now considered a classic of Pacific literature, although at the time no one believed the veracity of his report!

Slideshow

Whale Spotting

CBPP_20130827_untitled-045-MIt took us two weeks to get from Fiji to Tonga, thanks to an uncooperative convergence zone stalled overhead, producing heavy gray clouds, buckets of rain, and high winds. We navigated southeasterly through Fiji looking for safe overnight anchorages and checking the forecast daily looking for a break. We also had the opportunity to read several good books, since the weather was so uninviting. Finally we got an opening and headed across the 300 mile stretch of ocean separating Fiji’s Lau Group from Vava’u in Tonga. It was a 30 hour passage ‘uphill’, hammering head on into the oncoming waves which made for an unpleasant ride, comparable to life inside a washing machine.

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The Kingdom of Tonga, about 1300 nautical miles northeast of New Zealand, is composed of ‘groups’ of islands and the Vava’u Group is one of the more northerly. The main town of Neiafu offers the excellent Port of Refuge Harbor with facilities that include fuel, restaurants, a good market for local produce and handicrafts, a few shops, and a very few nice shops. We even have access to wifi again after a long dry spell! Currently it is the peak of cruising season in this part of the world and the harbor and anchorages are full of visiting yachts. One of the main draws is the arrival of hundreds of humpback whales that migrate here each year from the Antarctic to give birth, mate, and raise the babies until they are robust enough to survive the cold polar seas. The whales start to arrive in July and depart again in October, with numbers peaking in August and September.

Whale spotting involves scanning the empty sea for the blow (spout), the column of spray exhaled by the whales when they surface to breathe. Once we spot the blow and close in on them, we’ll often find the whales hanging out on the surface engaging in assorted activities. Humpback whales are the most athletic and exuberant of all whales and display a variety of behaviors – from spectacular breaching when the whales launch themselves, all 80 tons or so (double the weight of Avatar fully loaded), into the air and fall back into the water again with a commensurate titanic splash. Often they’ll breach 6 or 7 times in a row. They will also spyhop, poking their heads straight up out of the sea to take a look around;  tail-slap, smacking the surface of the water repeatedly with their tails; or flipper-slap, laying on their sides or backs and flailing their long (a third of the length of their bodies) pectoral fins against the sea surface. When they dive deep, they arch their backs like a cat and raise their tail flukes high out of the water. When they submerge fully they leave behind a ‘footprint’, a slick of smooth water on the ruffled surface of the sea. Humpbacks are also noted for their complex singing, and it adds an extra dimension to a scuba dive when we hear their distant song echoing through the water in concert with our air bubbles.  There are only about 20,000 humpbacks left worldwide today, the whaling industry having killed a quarter million of them in the 20th century up until 1983. They are now categorized as rare.

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CBPP_20130825_5Whales-1019-M-MCBPP_20130827_untitled-121-MWe got extremely lucky with our first whale encounter – coming across five individuals all traveling together. Best guess is that the group including a cow and calf, and three amorous suitors competing for her favor. One of the males was nearly all white with just a charcoal dorsal stripe. Humpbacks are usually black or dark gray with white underbellies. Individuals can be positively identified from the black and white markings on the underside of their tails, as unique as fingerprints. But a white-bodied one would be highly unusual. This group gave us a good show, and we suspect we may have actually witnessed (and photographed) a mating – but as none of us are whale experts, we can’t be sure.

CBPP_20130825_5Whales-238-MThe last week of our trip Mike and I are booked into Mounu Island Resort, operated by one of the founders of organized whale-watching in Tonga. Accompanied by a licensed operator and whale expert, we will actually able to swim and snorkel with the whales, an awe-inspiring experience. In the meantime we are contenting ourselves with whale-spotting, scuba diving, and exploring the beautiful islands and lagoons of Tonga’s Vava’u Group.

Bula from Yadua

Screen Shot 2013-08-11 at 10.50.55 AMHere we are back in Fiji for the umpteenth (I’ve lost count) time. Fiji offers a reliable starting off point for a tropical vacation with nonstop air service from Los Angeles, an excellent marina for the boat to hang out in comfort and safety while awaiting our arrival, abundant shops for stocking up, friendly people, traditional villages, 5-star resorts, balmy breezes and beautiful scenery above and below the water. After some of the convoluted trips we’ve made, especially the last trek to Raja Ampat, a nonstop 10 hour flight seems like no more than a hop skip and jump! Another sign of our frequent travels – our laptops remembered the password and logged us in automatically to the Air Pacific lounge wifi in Los Angeles!

The real target of this trip is the Kingdom of Tonga, about 400 miles away. We look forward to swimming again with the humpback whales that congregate there this time of year to calve, raise their new babies, and mate before heading back on a 10,000 mile migration to Antarctic waters for the winter season. But we are taking our time in Fiji before crossing over to Tonga, visiting a few select anchorages before heading out to sea.

Right now we are anchored in a scenic bay by the island Yadua (pronounced Yan-DU-a). The main body of this moderately sized island is hilly with volcanic outcroppings and a single village, Denimanu, situated on the northeast coast. At the southern end the geography tapers off to a slender curving spit of land that dips under water at its end for a few yards and then pops up again to form a smaller island, Yadua Taba, like the tassel at the end of a lion’s tail. Yadua Taba is a wildlife sanctuary for the protected green crested iguana, a rare species that exists only on this one small island. In years past there has been trouble with lizard poaching, presumably for some illegal exotic animal trade, and for a few years the entire area, not just the small island, was off-limits to visiting yachts. That restriction has since been lifted, however, and we are able to once again enjoy this appealing island.

The long slender tail separates two bays from each other. We are anchored on the west side, and on the east is a beach named Nautilus Beach after the chambered nautilus shells that regularly wash up from the deep. Living chambered nautiluses swim at great depths, around 200-300 meters, out of range of recreational divers. They navigate like little hot air balloons, using a gas mixture in the chambers of their shells to control their depth. When it comes time to spawn, they move into shallower water and presumably when the shells wash up on the beach, the living animals are long dead and gone having died after spawning. For whatever reason, Nautilus Beach is a frequent graveyard for the vacant shells.

In 2006, before the restriction was put into effect, we anchored here in Raven and I went shell seeking with Elize, a crew member at the time. We each had the good fortune to find a shell in good condition. That shell has been one of my more treasured souvenirs of all our cruising. So of course the first order of business upon arrival this trip was to try our luck again. Mike and I went ashore at low tide and scrambled up and over the ridge that divides the two bays. This involved a steep upwards climb along the edge of a cliff – made more difficult by the fact we were wearing Crocs as shoes instead of hiking boots. Then some major bushwhacking through head-high grasses and scrubby trees to get to the beach on the other side.

Here the tide was at very low ebb, the turquoise waters receded far out leaving behind tidal flats laced with shallow ankle-deep pools and exposed sea bottom. Schools of mullet splashed away when we startled them, a baby black-tipped reef shark only some 18″ long swam by, and the feathery tentacles of hundreds upon hundreds of small brittle starfish waved out from under their hiding places in crevices. Dozens of small moray eels were foraging in the shallow puddles. They undulated along, poking their heads down every likely hole and crevice. I actually saw one get lucky and snap up a small fish and then lay over on his side to work at swallowing it whole. I suspect the low tide creates optimal hunting conditions for the eels, cutting off the escape routes of the small fish by the limiting puddles of sea water. The morays themselves sometimes end up out of water, but they just exaggerate their writhing locomotion and propel themselves forwards into the next puddle.

Mike and I spent a couple of hours wandering up and down the beach peering at the activity in the tide flats and keeping an eye open for shells. We were about done, having wandered fruitlessly both up and down the entire length of the beach, when finally I spotted a nautilus shell lying exposed, bright and foreign-looking, in full view on the beach. It was in perfect condition – not a crack or chip. I stowed it in the cargo pocket of my hiking shorts and took great care, as we bushwhacked back to the other side of the ridge, not to trip and fall and crush my prize! For dinner last night, it formed the centerpiece on the dining table along with our battery-operated candles.

Screen Shot 2013-08-11 at 10.46.40 AMHot and sweaty, a dip in the bay seemed inviting, so we donned our snorkel gear and topped off the afternoon exploring a bommie (underwater pinnacle) within swimming distance of AVATAR. It was a beautiful spot, aquarium-like with clear water, bright corals, and a variety of colorful fish. Our attention was caught by a small school of squid performing some kind of interesting ritual most likely related to spawning. One pair in particular allowed us float to within arm’s length of them, unusual in that squid are usually shy and quick to dart away into the distance. They hung suspended in the water, their entire bodies bordered by a translucent fin that undulated ceaselessly to hold them in place. Their bodies were iridescent in colors of rose and turquoise, but then one or both of the pair would dart down to a crevice on the bottom a few feet below where their colors would instantly transmute to blacks and golds, and then a moment later they jetted back to us in full reverse, again taking on the rose/aqua coloring of before. At one time I saw the larger connect to the smaller with his  (her?) tentacles.

Late in the day a sailboat joined us in the anchorage and their Fijian guide came over in his dinghy and shared a generous portion of Spanish mackerel that they had caught on the sail over. We offered a bundle of just ripening avocados in return, of which we have an abundance due to the fact Rod had ordered 8 avocados from the market and received 8 kilos instead! Guacamole is on our breakfast, lunch and dinner menu!

We were also visited at dusk by a local Fijian man named Peter who had motored over from the village in a government launch – he introduced himself as the ‘park ranger’ and had come to be sure we understood about the restricted status of the protected iguana habitat. He was quite taken with AVATAR, exclaiming that we had a ‘floating palace!’

The night ended with all of us watching the pilot of Battlestar Gallactica on our flatscreen TV. I brought with me to the boat DVDs of the entire series, so our evening entertainment for the rest of the trip is pretty much cut out for us. And when the show ended we went out on deck to take a look at our own galaxy on a stunningly brilliant night just after moonset – the Milky Way overhead so intense it looked like a cloud in the obsidian black night sky, hung with the bright individual lights of countless stars.

And then it was early to bed, worn out by hiking and swimming and our out-of-whack time zone, only to be awakened in the middle of the night by a sudden squall and accompanying fierce deluge of rain and lightning flashes. Mike sleeps directly under the hatch which is open to the sky at night to catch the tropical breeze – and he is the early warning harbinger of rain as it pelts through the opening and splatters him as he sleeps!

This morning, blue skies again and a fresh breeze, with a possible scuba dive on the afternoon’s agenda.

Side Trip to the Frozen North

 

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Star trails and aurora in the frozen North

CLICK HERE for Slideshow

I have always wanted to see the northern lights but living in Southern Arizona and cruising in the equatorial Pacific do not lend themselves to frequent aurora borealis sightings. And I always worried that making a special trip to the frozen North, fingers crossed to see the phenomena, could be a recipe for disappointment.

But earlier this year a post showed up in my RSS feed promoting an aurora borealis photography workshop operating under the following conditions: 2013-14 was to be the peak of an 11 year cycle of solar sunspot activity which generates solar flares which in turn generates auroral activity; the selected workshop location, on the edge of the Arctic in Churchill, Winnipeg, Canada, is one of the world’s best locales for observing the aurora – averaging approximately 300 nights per year with some degree of activity; March is the preferred month for viewing as it offers the best chance of combined clear skies and dark nights, as opposed to summer when the nights are warmer but dramatically shorter, or polar bear migration season in October/November when overcast skies are more prevalent and hungry predators are added to the mix of hazards.

The Northern Lights Photography Workshop was to be led by +David Marx, a landscape photographer and Adobe Lightroom educator (also, as it turns out, a Google+ aficionado), and +Jim Halfpenny PhD, a naturalist with decades of mileage guiding groups to extreme locales around the world including the Antarctic, Arctic, the Galapagos, and his own backyard in Yellowstone National Park. Our group was small, only five participants and two leaders. We all, organizers included, were brimming with anticipation for the adventure to come.

So I asked Mike if he was game and we both signed up for a week in the Arctic chasing the northern lights. Our first order of business was to acquire a new wardrobe suitable for subzero temps; online research soon pointed the way to Canada Goose Arctic expedition parkas and Sorel boots rated to withstand a cold factor of -40º Fahrenheit. Assorted layers of silk underwear, socks, scarves, hats, gloves, face masks and mittens completed our outfits. Fully clothed, we had to turn our bodies sideways to squeeze in and out of our tour bus doors.

So as soon as we arrived home from our Indonesia trip we stowed the swimsuits and snorkels, shorts and sandals, and proceeded to stuff our suitcases to overflowing with our new extreme-cold gear and flew north to the Arctic.

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Wind chill factor minus 40º F

It was seriously chilly with night temps dropping to -25º Fahrenheit with ‘feels like’ temps of -40º F,  although sunny afternoons warmed up to a balmy -13º F!  Night photography offers its own set of challenges regardless, but to throw in extended sessions in life-threatening temperatures gives a whole new meaning to the word ‘challenge’. Among other things we learned that the tape we needed to lock down the focus barrel on the camera lens lost all stickiness at such cold temps. Also that it is not possible to operate crucial camera controls (like the shutter button) wearing bulky mittens stuffed with handwarmers. The result was several frostbitten fingers that are just now sloughing off the dead skin, and a frostbitten nose tip acquired by squashing it against the camera viewfinder in an effort to compose an attractive image while operating in almost pitch black conditions. The flexible cable on my Nikon intervalometer froze stiff and snapped in two at a crucial moment…fortunately I had a wireless backup in my bag of accessories. Of course the nights were moonless, a deliberate scheduling choice on the part of our leaders, although starlight and red headlamps provided some degree of night vision.

Churchill is also the self-proclaimed polar bear capital of the world where the white bears congregate by the dozens during the fall months in anticipation of Hudson Bay waters freezing over, enabling the bears to strike off across the pack ice in pursuit of their preferred food, ringed seals. Theoretically this time of year the bears were all out hunting and not lurking nearby stalking tourists packaged in goosedown for their next meal. But our guides kept a close eye on us anyway. Another risk factor for a lone photographer would be injury sustained in a fall on icy footing in the dark and freezing to death before being missed.

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CNSC under a starry sky

Home base was a modern (only 2 years old) facility known as the Churchill Northern Studies Centre, a base for assorted working scientists studying the aurora, tagging bears, evaluating climate change and otherwise researching the Arctic environment. But the CNSC also takes in groups for educational ecotourism and is impressively designed and operated to offer a uniquely engaging experience. Lodging is provided in dorm rooms, each containing four bunk beds, two hanging closets, a desk countertop stretching wall to wall, a couple of chairs – and nothing else. Bathrooms are communal with composting toilets and showers that dispense precious water on timers. Community lounges, classrooms, media rooms, a library and a gift shop expand the amenities. There is even decent wifi! Meals are shared in the cafeteria and everyone, from paid staff to paying guest, pitches in to help wash the dishes. The cooking is appetizing and filling, plentiful homestyle fare that includes a plethora of treats (like warm-from-the-oven cookies) available not only after meals but at all hours of the night for aurora watchers to snack on during late night vigils. It’s tempting to assume exposure to cold burned off those extra calories, but I suspect that is only wishful thinking!

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Night igloo photography!

At night the facility enforces a lights-out protocol to prevent light pollution from interfering with the view of the night sky. Scientists, volunteer staff members and tourists roam the hallways at all hours, alert for the next light show, banging on dorm room doors to rouse sleepers to the call for action. Residents pass the wee hours chatting, strumming the guitar, playing board games by candlelight in the cafeteria, or watching the sky from the windows and glass dome in the cozily warm observation room. But we photographers toughed it out outdoors, negotiating slippery footing in the dark with tripods and expensive fragile cameras, frosty with ice crystals, balanced precariously on our shoulders. Batteries failed prematurely due to the extreme cold, condensation fogged up the lenses each time we returned indoors, and of course the sticky tape was non-sticky!

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Tracks on the ice lead to aurora

Luckily for us, each night the auroral light show was better than the night before. Our first night – nothing except cloudy overcast skies that fostered a faint sense of panic that the weather might not cooperate with our limited time table. But on the second night around 1 a.m. a faint misty veil glowed in the distance and our camera lenses captured it as a rainbow of light. One night we concentrated on lighting up the centre’s demonstration igloos with glow sticks and ventured out onto the ice of a frozen pond in hopes of capturing reflections. Another evening, after a day trip to town and dinner at the local favorite hangout, we set up our gear on the snow-covered beach fronting the shores of frozen solid Hudson Bay for a night shot of an aboriginal stone cairn called an Inuksuk. No sooner had we completed our preparations than the aurora kicked in with an impressive storm reminiscent of the genie escaping from Aladdin’s lamp.

Aurora over Inuksuk on the shores of Hudson Bay

And on our final night we were treated to the best show of all. Curtains of color danced over our heads filling the sky with light. By this time we had suffered through the worst of our setup woes and were prepped and ready to photograph the awesome display.

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Curtains of light dance in the Arctic

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The Churchill River frozen over

Of course those were just the nights and, no, we didn’t get much sleep! By daylight we benefited from classroom lectures, worked on our photos, and explored the Churchill environs as a group. We went out on the pack ice of the frozen Churchill River, 8-10 feet thick with ice and contorted into a fantastical landscape of ice sculpture eruptions created by the pressure of the ice expanding and contracting.

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Sled dogs waiting their turn

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Polar bear prevention

We enjoyed an introduction to dog sledding with Wapusk Adventures and received our very own certificate for completing the ‘Ididamile’ only a few days after the real Iditarod race was won by its ‘most senior’ victor ever. We saw local residences barricaded with window grates and nail-studded plywood planks designed to discourage marauding polar bears, and we dropped by the polar bear jail where errant bears are locked up and treated to spartan conditions designed to discourage further forays into town.

 

 

 

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Nike rocket

 

We toured the Eskimo Museum, filled with a fascinating collection of Inuit carvings collected over the years by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Churchill, and we were entertained by the reminiscences of Myrtle, the Métis village elder, and purchased her copyrighted caribou hair sculptures as souvenirs.  We missed out on a scheduled trip to visit the Churchill County Museum due to vehicle failure caused by extreme cold. The museum describes itself as ‘The Best Little Museum on Highway 50, America’s Loneliest Road’. Presumably this references the fact that Churchill has some 25 miles of paved road within the town environs, but the next closest paved road is hundreds of miles distant. Access to Churchill is by plane, train or (during the brief summer months) boat. Churchill attractions even include a now defunct rocket launch site that operated periodically in an assortment of capacities from the mid-50s until its final closure in the late 90s, and an historic stone fort (Fort Prince of Wales) that dates back to the early 1700s.

In all it was an amazing experience. Now that we possess suitably tested cold weather clothing, we’ll be looking for more winter extreme adventures in the future!

photo by Farshid Ariz

photo of Carol by Farshid Ariz