Small Craft Route: God's Pocket - Mile 310

God's Pocket is a protected cove on the south side of the dreaded Queen Charlotte Sound, where small craft wait for a good weather report before proceeding across the 40 miles of open water. Especially in the spring and the fall, the wait can go on for days and occasionally even a week or more as one storm system after another moves in from the ocean. Today there is a lodge with a dock and a lucky mariner might even be able to get a bite to eat.

For northbound small craft the protocol was to set your alarm for 3 a.m. when you would wake up and listen. Even if you got a good weather report, if you could hear the wind or the heavy beat of the surf on the outside, you'd be well advised to wait a day...

But, if the wind was light, then it was batten down the hatches, cross your fingers and head out. The whole idea of getting an early start was to get across before the afternoon westerlies started booming in from the ocean.

From my fishing journal, Oct, 1975:

Oct 24 - Starts out at four on as still and peaceful a morning as you could ask for and ends up in the black of a windy night with violent winds and lashing rain battering the boat in a tiny and constricted anchorage.

Slipped away at four and ran those dark channels until daylight. Full of big drum seiners today; their season is over and are all running to their home ports for the winter.

Queen Charlotte Sound, always an anxious spot to get across, started out as flat as I had ever seen it - no swell and only a confused and leftover lump was running. Passed two trollers, Star Lynette, and Mary L, whom we have been keeping company on and off since we left Petersburg. By Lonely and windswept Egg Island we were alone, bucking into a light chop, the two others lost in the murk of an overcast morning. Then by Cape Caution and the last anchorage until we were across, it was wet going and steady SE 25.

An hour later we were in the thick of things, the wind a steady 35, and the sea a nasty short 8’ chop and every now and then I’d have to chop the throttle and let a particularly big one slide by. Laid in the partial lee of Storm Islands for a bit to pump the bilge, check things carefully in the engine room. Made sure things were secure on deck and then we eased out into it again, for a very dirty go for the rest of the afternoon.

Just outside Storm Islands, there must have been a tide rip or something, as all we could do for a long half hour was just idle along and let the seas slip under us, pitching heavily. Lightly loaded as we were, I couldn’t lay the course to Pine Island without putting us in the trough of the seas, so we had to steer a zig zag course. Finally made Pine Island on the dirtiest kind of afternoon with the light failing, and 12 long miles to go. Reduced to three quarters speed, slowing for the big ones. Even at Scarlett Pt, it was so nasty that we had run way up on the lee of the land before we could get out of the seas enough to make our turn and then quarter down into the shelter of God’s Pocket. Happy to get out of it, you bet. But then saw that the cove was full of Canadians with no room for another. Laid alongside a 45 footer just as our steering wheel went loose on the shaft, so had to make repairs and leave. Even in the few minutes we were there we chewed through a 3/4 pretty new bow line. Canadian introduced himself as ‘Nelson,’ maybe 50, heavy set with wool shirt and pants. As we were tieing up, he asked Laura if it was just the two of us. And when she said yes, he shook his head and said that we were braver than he was.

Canadian gillnetters and my boat on the right, waiting for weather, God's Pocket, June 1975. We had gotten in the night before, and had hoped to get across on this day, but when when the alarm woke us up, there was enough wind to make us wait another day. Actually, while I was looking around and listening, three of the boats took off, which was a surprise, as they were all considerably smaller than my 60 footer. But then when I got up around 9 and was having coffee with my crew, the boats who had left earlier, straggled back in, having run into big seas.

So I kind of wonder what he makes of us - pulling alongside of him, just a kid and a girl, headed down from Alaska in a big company boat. Said the best anchorage was across the channel and around the point, just snuggle right up into the trees. We couldn’t stay where we were and it was getting dark fast, so off we went and around the corner the whole bay was just white, the wind an easy 45 and blowing the tops off of everything. Running with it wasn’t so bad, but when we passed the point, the wind was blowing the spray maybe forty or fifty feet downwind from each wave.

Dropped hook in the 6 PM black in the SE end of Browning Passage. The anchorage was a tight little spot and we laid in a narrow gut between two islands. The wind howled through the pass but there was no swell. Mighty kelpy bottom - took two tries to get a good bite with the anchor and we were uneasily close to the beach.

So for windy night. After supper three other boats came in and then the wind started up in earnest with accompaniment of driving rain and the blackest kind of night. Re-anchored further out with a bit more room in case we started to drag. Fitful sleep, natch, then around midnight woke thinking, ‘Hmm that sure is a curious sound’, then WHAM! Jumped up to find the Martha Marie, a 40’ troller had dragged down on top of us; the sound was his anchor wire sliding over ours. Pulled on pants and oilskins and out into the night to get that squared away and all the time like someone with a powerful deck hose had it aimed at us, so powerful was the rain and the wind. L. looking out with big eyes at it all. Then up again an hour later to re-anchor in a squall and looked downwind and two of the three other boats were doing the same. So for uneasy night; from then until five, the wind shook the boat and the rain drove with such force that it even opened up a leak over our bunk...