The alarm woke me up at 3:00am. Lying inside the tent I could hear the wind. Stepping out confirmed that the wind was blowing hard. Realizing that this was likely going to be another day on the island, I went back to bed, setting the alarm for 6:30am, just in case the wind subsided, and had fallen asleep. Something woke me up at 5:00am. It was the silence: I could hear the mosquitoes outside the tent. It took me a second to realize that the wind had died. Everything went into the overdrive mode: a quick breakfast, then an expedited packing, meanwhile asking the gods of sea to keep it calm for a few more hours. It was low tide, and the portages over the expanse tidal zone to the water edge took some time, four minutes each way. It did not sound like much; however considering that I needed at least six portages to get all my stuff to the loading place, around fifty minutes were taken by just this procedure.


I had finally departed at 8:30am. It was still perfectly calm in the channel, but once in the open I had experienced a light easterly wind and small waves. Still, a perfect day for the crossing. I had no issues paddling across Ripple Passage to Miller Island Group, clearly visible.


On my way, I had passed small rocky islets, often occupied by birds. Besides having a chance to take interesting pictures, I tried to plan my path close to islands and islets to have a place of escape in case of an accident. Being washed out on a dry rock was still better than taking my chances in the cold water.


Rhinoceros Auklets claimed the ocean all around me, swimming and passing by in flocks.


Once close to Miller Islands, I had started hearing some strange noise, like someone trying to start a boat engine over and over again. It was coming from an island to the left and could well be the roar of sea lions. When I came closer, I indeed saw six Steller Sea Lions lying on the rocky outcrops. I got close enough for the animals to notice me but not so close that I would disturb them. After looking at me, the lions had returned to their activities: mostly resting on the rock, some moving through the group that was loudly objecting to that intrusion. I had taken a number of pictures before continuing my journey.



Instead of waiting, I had started paddling parallel to the barge along Millar Islands, heading south-east, and by the time the barge had passed I was already beyond the last island. Then I had turned and began crossing the channel, aiming at Stewart Point on the mainland, as I was already too far east to cross to Jeannette Island. The sea was definitely calming down and this was a pleasant crossing. Less than a kilometer from the shore, I saw a large number of birds in feeding frenzy and came closer to investigate.

 
A whale or a group of whales was feeding on a school of fish, likely forced in a tight ball close to the surface where the birds were helping themselves to the easy meal. I kept myself a couple of hundred meters away, as the whale was disappearing for extended periods of time and I was not sure where it would surface next. My preference was to be a spectator, not part of the show. Then, after a few dives, the whale had surfaced relatively close. It was certainly a warning sign that I should paddle away.

 
Meanwhile, the wind had died and the sea calmed down completely. Rhinoceros Auklets were floating around me, in small to medium size flocks, frequently diving.


I took a few more pictures of the humpback whale surfacing among the gulls in feeding frenzy, too far for a good shot, but the safety first, mine and the whale. I then observed an interesting behavior: a bird, not unlike a frigate bird, dark in color but smaller in size, with at least one long tail feather, was harassing a gull, like a frigate bird would do, until it dropped a fish. Unfortunately for the harasser, another gull had picked up the meal and then the dark bird had flown away. Everything happened too fast to take a photograph. Later I had learned that this was likely a jaeger.
 
After photographing the gulls and the auklets for a while, I had continued to Stuart Point. Meanwhile, I was feeling more and more uncomfortable in my kayak. Since I had to depart in a hurry, I did not pack the kayak tight enough and the lack of space inside was becoming painful for my legs. I had decided to stop for a quick lunch at Marsh Bay, just behind Stuart Point, and move the dry bags around to make more space for my legs. After paddling around the bay, quite shallow in some areas, I had found a small pebble beach and landed there. Unfortunately, the surf, although light, kept pushing my kayak on the shore, and I had to eat staying in water and keeping the kayak afloat. The changes in the placement of dry bags had slightly increased the legroom inside the kayak, and I continued paddling in more comfort, enjoying Vancouver Island views across Queen Charlotte Strait. It was hard to believe that I had crossed such an expanse of water. Fortunately, I had done it in a safe way, in several leaps with rest & refuge points between.


A little creek was shown on the chart, inside a small bay on my way to Robinson Island. I had stopped to refill my water containers but did not find the creek. Continuing to the intended campsite on Robinson Island, I had started looking for a narrow passage between this two kilometer-long island and the mainland. It was shown as drying at low tide and I hoped that it was still passable. Taking the passage would have saved me some time, and I was already getting tired after a long paddle. Unfortunately, the passage was dry. Moreover, through the passage I saw a power boat inside the bay. The bay was marked with an anchorage sign on the chart and I had realized that my stay there was not going to be as secluded as I had hoped. A sailboat with a dinghy in tow had passed me and turned into the bay, confirming my expectations. Soon, I had also reached the bay entrance.


After entering the bay I had started looking for the small tidal area where I intended to camp. I had found it shortly. The tidal area was actually quite large, as low tide had exposed vast space.


I had checked the shore for a flat spot above the high tide, large enough for my tent. Same as at my previous campsite, I had found several little patches of wet grass, likely flooded at very high tide. I had selected the biggest one, flat and just big enough for my tent. Unfortunately, it was slopped, but nothing else was available, so it would have to do for a night.
 
I had unloaded my kayak very fast, as while I was looking for a camp site it got deposited by ebbing tide on rocks overgrown with nasty-looking sharp barnacles. I had checked the kayak bottom thereafter: no damage except a few short cuts, up to half-way through the skin. I had filled them with the glue thereafter.
 
It was hot: no wind in the bay and the sun was in full force. After placing my kayak on the shore, I had to cover it with everything available, including my sleeping bag, its inner cotton side up, and the cotton insert, to protect from the UV rays and overheating. The blazing-hot sun had induced me to take a bath and wash my clothes. The water was surprisingly cold and I hesitated for a while. Meanwhile, two more boats had entered the bay, a sailboat and a powerboat. While I was hesitating, the wind had picked up and it suddenly was not that hot any longer. Never the less, I had bravely washed myself and then my clothes, and hung them to dry.
 

This was my first pasta day. I had mixed fresh and sea water, in the 3 to 1 proportion, and started cooking a double portion of pasta. While taking care of the tent, I heard some metal noise in the cooking area. Sure enough, the pot was on its side, with half of the pasta on the ground. Maybe I did not balance the pot on the stove well enough, or maybe it was the wind. This had reinforced the important rule to never leave the cooking food unattended. Fortunately, the pasta was already fully cooked, so I used what was left in the pot for dinner. I had collected the rest, washed in the sea water and left for the next day, to be consumed after a quick disinfection boil. After packing up for tomorrow I went to bed at around 10:00pm.