Queen Charlotte Sound to Pelorus : Cape Jackson
As the day dawned we planned out our path, a route into the next sound that would take us back out into the strait and round cape jackson. The map shrunk everything down to manageable size, and perspective was lost. The wind swung in from the north, full in the face, chopping the water white and fierce. The ruler indicated a modest distance of about 55km and we figured wide, allowing a good 8 hours for the journey.
Boldly and blindly we headed out toward the open sea, the dingy bobbing happily behind, unaware of the madness that lay ahead. The wind blew full in the teeth and we slashed a zig-zag directly into the throat of the gale. Cape jackson shadowed our left, growing increasingly barren and bleak. Nowhere to pullover here.
Hours on the water, the direct beaming sun bright overhead. We drew along the tip of the cape, a jagged line of thrashing white far out to sea. A lone point, a lighthouse and beacon told us of danger. Nearing, it was left or right, right on top and the birds overhead, spinning and screaming in faint feeling, wing tips on the water, feeding on mishap. Hills of water, the up and down of vertical motion and we are free to gaze back on the violent beauty.
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| Milan points us to the sun | New Year eve bay | Larza on deck |
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| Nearly there | Kiko under sail | Rounding Cape Jackson |
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| First Mates Joking | Larza the Lookout | Entering the sounds |
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| High Seas | Camp site |
