Pacific NW

Expeditions

Upon waking I met with Shayar, Matt, and family and we took a long soak in the springs. We found a toad floating dead in the hottest pool, thoroughly cooked. Matt tossed it out and it landed with a thud, appalling several of the other bathers. I suddenly realized what time it was and ran back to the boat in order to catch a good tide down the Chatham Strait. At the dock I found Justin, and he had gotten the boat all ready to go. A box of wine sat in the galley, which Vic had given us. We said our hurried and regretful good-byes and left our hot spring paradise. A short while later we came to Red Bluff Bay, a place of indescribable beauty. This whole region is simply one of the more spectacular parts of the globe! Unfortunately, today the anchorage in Red Bluff Bay was infested by LWEPs (large white expensive powerboats). We placed our bets on Gut Bay a few miles to the south, and headed out of Red Bluff. Justin and I split our sides laughing last night when we discovered a new law of nature: the whale makes its whale noises, the elk makes its bugle calls, and the LWEP captains use their bow thrusters to communicate over long distances. “Full starboard bow thrust”! we imagine one of them commanded in Red Bluff Bay, for bow thrusters of all horsepower and magnitude were crowded into the anchorage. As is turns out, we were right in going to Gut Bay. The geography of the bay defies the laws of physics and gravity. You just have to see it to believe it. Our anchorage is a basin roughly 3/4 mile round with a large stream at one end. “Stop the boat”!! shouted Justin as we made our way through the uncharted channel into the basin. Thick schools of salmon swam everywhere around the boat, right at the surface of the water! Justin frantically cast out the fishing lines. Entering the inner chamber we found that the ENTIRE BAY was stuffed completely chuck-a-block with literally millions of leaping salmon. Old-timers say that they can remember a time when the fish ran so thick you could walk from one side of the lake to the other on their backs. I know what they mean now. If you were to freeze time and space, you could literally walk anywhere in the basin by stepping on their backs! At any one time we could see at least 150 salmon leaping high into the air, rising out and falling back into the millions below. Within two minutes I landed a fish. I can’t even begin to describe the awesome geography of the bay. Under a towering verticle peak and glacier we rowed through the salmon across the bay. To see all those huge fish swirling around the boat was an experience beyond compare. We were speechless. Quite literally you couldn’t see the bottom of the lagoon. We got out on shore and explored a river valley. Absolutely massive stands of old growth spruce, hemlock and cedar trees filled the valley. I’ve rarely seen such a remarkable forest. Bear scat, tracks, and large game trails criss-crossed and littered the valley bottom in more abundance than I’ve ever seen. Bald eagles picked at the dead salmon on shore, strewing their guts all around the forest. We climbed our way up the trunk of a fallen tree that lay across the stream. It had a diameter of 15 feet or more, and gave us a good vantage point to assess the stream. The more hardy salmon were swimming powerfully up the rushing waters and jumping over logs and rocks to gain the pools farther up. It was quite a powerful experience just to be amongst such a fantastic and healthy ecosystem! At the same time we were quite aware of the dozens of 600 pound grizzly bears that were roaming the forest all around us. Being number two on the food chain heightened our awareness to the point that we jumped at every noise. We chopped down a tree and crafted spears and clubs. Eventually the bear habitat became so thick that we considered it unsafe to proceed further, even if we had rifles. That hike was a remarkable experience that I will never forget. We cautiously waded back down the river and let the grizzlies feed on the salmon in peace. In the evening and all throughout the night we could hear the constant splashing and slapping of the salmon, whipping the waters of the lagoon into a non-stop frothing feeding frenzy.