Greywolf’s Chronicles: Chronicle 5 Shearwater to Grenville Channel

Greywolf tied up at Shearwater on Monday, July 26. Shearwater Resort and Marina actually is a resort and has a marina: there is a wide variation in the use of that term north of the Gulf Islands in BC. Situated at the neck of the hourglass of routes up and down the Inside Passage, most boats pass through here. If you’ve followed the blog in the past, you’ve been here, too.

This lovely new-to-Shearwater hotel was formerly a sports fishing lodge built on a barge…that became unseaworthy. Bummer. I’m sure the resort was able to get it at a good price. After blasting a Large Hole in the side of Denny Island and waiting for a very high tide, tugs shoved the barge into the hole, and rock was piled in front of it. We would have loved to have seen that. ‘Having difficulty imagining the logistics. Yes, that is why the world has engineers.

Doug and Allie and I decided to go on an “explore" to the ferry dock in the small bay directly beyond the marina We walked for about an hour. We’re not very fast, but we covered more than a few blocks and never got to the ferry landing. I asked at the store: “Oh. You can’t get to the ferry from here.” That is not entirely true, of course. But getting to the dock by road does involve driving over most of Denny Island. Not walking down the road for an hour.

We did find where old machines come to die.

Our first (an hopefully only) incident requiring Yacht Repair In Remote Places occurred Tuesday morning. We had decided to spend one more day at Shearwater since friends from Eagle Harbor Yacht Club were scheduled to arrive with the ten-boat “Waggoner Flotilla” mid-day. We were glad we stayed.

We have a “wing engine”, a 28 hp Yanmar that sits over to the port side of the engine room. He has his own little propeller and fuel tank. In the event that his big brother, Mr Lugger, needs a rest, a.k.a. quits, Yanmar will take over. He’s not fast, but he can push Greywolf’s 60,000 pounds through the water in a more or less forward direction. Doug routinely runs Yanmar for an hour to exercise his parts. On Tuesday morning, when the exercise hour was almost up, we heard an unusual sound. Doug shut down Yanmar and opened the engine room door: salt water and exhaust were merrily spraying around and floating about. They are not generally allowed in the engine room. A weld on the exhaust system had let go. Yanmar’s exhaust system had been rebuilt somewhere in the South Seas by the first owner and the time had come to rebuild it again.

Yanmar’s exhaust system with the broken welded fitting removed.
Even I know that ya’ can’t run an engine with gaping, or even small, holes.

Shearwater is the only place between Port McNeill and Prince Rupert that has the capacity to haul a boat out of the water and provide a mechanic. Greywolf did not need to be hauled out, but she did need mechanic or a welder. Or both. Shearwater’s mechanic was not available to even look at Yanmar until Monday. We’d go to Prince Rupert without a back-up means of propulsion. We let Mr Lugger know that his buddy was feeling poorly (he knew there was a problem since he had been showered with salt water) and he needed to solider on to Ketchikan without a back-up.
Got it! I’m your man.

This cenotaph* commemorates the WWII service of residents of Shearwater and nearby Bella Bella. The Stranraer flying boat was based at Bella Bella. The carving at the left is eagle/raven.

*Cenotaph: a special structure or statue that is built to remind people of a person

or group of people whose remains are elsewhere. I don’t remember seeing

that word before, but there a many things I don’t remember...

The model, with its17 foot wingspan, is

a weathervane.

Last year, when the end of the large shop (a former WWII Canadian Air Force hanger) needed to be replaced, the resort owner commissioned a 120 X 22 foot mural depicting seventeen people who had a impact on the growth and development of Shearwater, including the original manager of the Hudson’s Bay Company outpost and the owner’s father. I couldn’t get a good photo of the mural from the parking lot, so Allie and I climbed a hill and peeked between the trees. I preferred the tree limbs to the utility poles and wires.