Planet of the Arts Vol. 5 no. 1 Fall 1989

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Wt? Wand You

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fut cmtinetres and Lifkes.

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One step,

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for 15 to 20 minutes or until cheese bubbles and crust is golden.Quickly cut and serve piping

hot
a

Muk-Tuk-Ali is .a 32ft sailboat,and “she”, gods
bless her ferrocement hull, bobbed around those
mystic islands north of here, through the summer with
yours truly and his intrepid crew.

We left Vancouver harbour at six am on a still
clear June morning, the waterline on the boat “a little
below”, having packed $300 worth of stores in every
nook and .....passing under Lions Gate bridge, inno-
cent as to what this journey would be.

Though our destination was to be the Queen
Charlotte Islands,(Queen who?) there is an area
between, an area we had not planned to discover.
After a humiliating attempt to cross the infamous
Hecate Straight from a southerly direction we lay
course up through the inside passage poking our nose
every so often out from the shelter to check on He-
cate, eventually reaching Prince Rupert where we
restored us and the boats condition to be fit enough to
adventure out to Haida Gwai. As fresh from city kids
are apt to do we got treed out, the green and green,
the endless beauty, so we took refuge in coves that
man had once tamed. Disused and spooky canarries
like Butedale and Namu, where we ran like dogs off
the leash, investigating those fantasy places, nature

boldly creep creep creeping over wooden boardwalks, »

rusted boilers and old newspapers. Prince Rupert,
seemingly booming, a pit stop for fishing boats,
freighters and us. The men wearing boots, tight jeans
and their shirts open to the waist,cruise the streets at
night in pick up trucks, leering at the female member
of my crew, much to her surprise in her unflattering,
paint splatterred sweats. A tidy town, with coin laun-
dries, video stores and pubs. A bit like my home town
in N.2Z!

From Prince Rupert we debut on the second part
of our journey, to challenge at last that ferocious,
intimidating sea, to cross to Haida Gwai. We departed
from the Browning Passage at midnight ,a shift of
three hours for each crew member, but I, once on the
tiller became spellbound by the endless starry sky, the
bright phosphorescence bubbling behind, so, though
cold | forgot time, transfixed to the tiller, obsessed with
the compass, at one point dragging my bleary eyed
crew up from pretending to sleep with my “sighting of
lights and land” that turned out to be an optical illusion.
We pounded on, the vegetable basket emptied on to
the floor, a wave got curious, and visited the cabin,
and a misty dawning of day, the islands still far away.
Unspoken thoughts of missing the Charlottes, next
stop Japan, were stifled with hot cups of chocolate
and then the the joy at 1.30pm in the afternoon, in
brilliant sunshine we had land in sight, the buoys right
in line . While | collapsed on the deck on the bagged
Genoa, the engine reliably thump thump thumping,
Kathleen and Grant guided Muk-Tuk-Ali down the
narrow channel into Queen Charlotte City.

Somewhat of a misnomer Queen Charlotte City is
not I’m pleased to report the bustling tourist city one

might imagine by it’s name, but a one store town(we
looked for others ), and,oh, there is a video store, and
a Post Office serving a population of a thousand easy
going souls, all willing to share a yarn or two, particu-
larly if it’s about Hecate Straight. Q.C.City was so
titled by one enterprising gentleman from south of the
border, who, in the early part of this century, tried to
make a quick buck on the land titles he bought up and
sold in the megabucktropolis of America. The name
he called his land titles stuck, the investors didn't.
Grant ,the English wanderer who joined us in Port
Hardy had a flight to catch in Alaska so he parted
leaving two of us aboard the ship to explore the
southern portion of the islands. Now trees, and green
had become a way of life, so the bald scars on Lyell

and

HAIDA GWA
Ure we Youre

we one ot Yor paling Li?

MukcTulcAllis.a32ft saliboat and “she”, gods
wleatd. yr lbivue trot 79 thuel. Steff os A eps lerooesen ai ised sea (ae
BA myst isiands north of here, through the summer with
fe t iw Yaak Little con? Thagnle God we xi (ai ‘ YoU ry and hispid crew
They howe spent Jo let Vancouver harbour at sx am on ast
dacbuntart— Contd. } clear June moming, the waterline on the boat “a little

below’, having packed $300 worth of stores in every
‘Nook and .....passing under Lions Gate bridge, inno-
‘cent as to what this joumey would be

‘Though our destination was to be the Queen
Charlotte islands, (Queen who?) there is an area
between, an area we had not planned to discover.
‘After a humiliating attempt to cross the infamous.
Hecate Straight from a southerty direction we lay
‘course up through the inside passage poking our nose
every 50 often out from the shelter to check on He-
‘ate, eventually reaching Prince Rupert where we
restored us and the boats condition to be fit enough to,
adventure out to Haida Gwai. As fresh from city kids
are apt to do we got treed out, the green and green,
the endless beauty, so we took refuge in coves that
man had once tamed. Disused and spooky canaries
like Butedale and Namu, where we ran like dogs off
the leash, investigating those fantasy places, nature
boldly creep creep creeping over wooden boardwalks,
rusted boilers and old newspapers. Prince Rupert,
‘seemingly booming, a pit stop for fishing boats,
freighters and us. The men wearing boots, tight jeans
and their shits open to the waist,cruise the streets at
night in pick up trucks, leering at the female member
of my crew, much to her surprise in her unflattering,

aint splatterred sweats. A tidy town, with coin laun-
a have Wee Tob oe graphic oltre Bice io sts and pubs. Abt omy foe wn
a vs nnzr
ie NG pean cate Pepe roitGm Pines Rupe we debut on he socond par
aeconntant pauses sale out purney, ty chalonge alata ferocious
convert 2A {km Ho intimidating sea, to cross to Haida Gwai. We departed
fet emtinutres eis Litees. from the Browning Passage at midnight a shitot
three hours for each crew member, but |, once on the

tiler became spellbound by the endless starry sky, the
bright phosphorescence bubbling behind, so, though
Cold | forgot time, transfixed tothe tiller, obsessed with
the compass, at one point dragging my bleary eyed
Crew up from pretending to sleep with my “sighting of
lights and land" that turned out to be an optical illusion.
We pounded on, the vegetable basket emptied on to
the floor, a wave got curious, and visited the cabin,
and a misty dawning of day, the islands stil far away.
Unspoken thoughts of missing the Charfottes, next
stop Japan, were stifled with hot cups of chocolate
and then the the joy at 1.30pm in the afternoon, in
brilliant sunshine we had land in sight, the buoys right
line . While | collapsed on the deck on the bagged

Genoa, the engine reliably thump thump thumping,
Kathleen and Grant guided Muk-Tuk-Ali down the
‘narrow channel into Queen Charlotte City

‘Somewhat of a misnomer Queen Charlotte City is
‘not 'm pleased to report the bustling tourist city one
‘might imagine by i's name, but a one store town(we
looked for others ), and,oh, there is a video store, and
a Post Oifice serving a population of a thousand easy
{going souls, all wiling to share a yam or two, particu-
larly if 's about Hecate Straight. ©.C.City was so
titled by one enterprising gentleman from south of the
border, who, in the early part of this century, tried to
‘make a quick buck on the land titles he bought up and
sold in the megabucktropolis of America. The name
he called his land tiles stuck, the investors didn't.

Grant the English wanderer who joined us in Port
Hardy had a fight to catch in Alaska so he parted
leaving two of us aboard the ship to explore the
souther portion of the islands. Now trees, and green
had become a way of lite, so the bald scars on Lyell

HAIDA GWA\I