Cailey is a born boat dog.  Literally.  Maybe her complete ease on the skiff is the result of spending her first three and a half months on a sailboat, or maybe she's just young, but you couldn't ask for a better boat dog.  She sits down whenever she wants, she stands on the back bench to sniff over the side when we're at full speed, she lays over my legs to sniff above the windshield and, when she's cold or tired, she curls up between the seats and snoozes.

But I'm getting ahead of myself!  Unparalleled fine weather through the month of March nudged me far enough out of my winter blues to complete boat maintenance in record time with and with record success.  Other than a little problem with the electrical system (which simply required a thorough scouring of the connectors), there were no major problems and I probably only made about four trips to Western Auto.  In addition to the standard maintenance (changing the lower unit oil, the spark plugs, and the fuel filter; scrubbing; installing the bilge pump; tightening the rails), I made a few repairs and improvements including securing the windshield back to the boat (the driver's side had been completely disconnected for half of last summer), reconnecting the passenger side windshield brace, removing some old hardware, and installing two rod holders.  Everything was ready by the end of March and we began to think about April adventures, so an April 7 going away camping party at Sunshine Cove sealed our plans.  Instead of driving out the road (Sunshine Cove is about 38 miles from downtown), we thought we'd show up by boat.  So, after a morning of glorious spring skiing at Eaglecrest, we drove the boat out to Amalga Harbor at 3:00.  Launching went smoothly; Cailey climbed into the boat, but was scared away up the ramp by the engine starting.  We coaxed her back to us with the engine off, but had to pick her up to get her back in the boat. Once inside, we pushed off and drifted for a few seconds away from the dock (and escape) before starting the engine again.  And that's when it became apparent that Cailey was a natural.  Nothing seemed to phase her, and she never flinched again about the engine!  Of course the water was flat calm--the day absolutely stunning--which certainly didn't hurt.  We cruised over to Little Island and took turns going ashore, but the current was ripping through the pass so we didn't linger.  Cailey got to romp around and pee, then was lifted back into the boat.  We still had some time to kill, so we zipped into St. James Bay briefly before heading for Sunshine Cove for the night.  Cailey enjoyed the camp food (which was conveniently spread all over the ground) and camp dogs, but that's another story!  The next morning she surprised us by curling up in the bow of the boat on the way back to the harbor when we ran into some unpleasant chop (she was dead tired).

The next weekend we headed to Snettisham for the earliest opening ever.  I've made it down there twice before in April, but an early to mid-May start is more typical.  After a virtually cloudless March, the fine weather just kept coming and we couldn't think of a reason to wait!  I spent the morning at home feeling under the weather, paying bills, and finishing taxes, then I rallied and we took off from the harbor at 4:50 pm.  It was another glorious evening and we drank Pacificos down the channel while Cailey drank in the sea air.  Though we were still under the influence of a high pressure sunny streak, we did run into an unpleasant little southwesterly chop in Taku Inlet which slowed us a bit.  As we approached Grand Island I saw a little splash in the distance off Grave Point that set my orca hairs on end.  Sure enough, one big black fin and a couple of smaller fins broke the surface a little closer!  There were orcas on our very first trip out!!  Unfortunately, I was to be disappointed; never have I met such slippery orcas.  When I first saw them they were still quite far away.  We moved in their direction, fully expecting them to come up in front of us, but after stopping and drifting for a while, we saw nothing until we realized they must have traveled far under the surface and already passed us.  Sure enough, far far away up Taku Inlet the four orcas came up again.  Though I was not optimistic, we sped in that direction in the hopes of eventually catching up and having  a look at those fins--I'm sure they were transients, which made them all the more tantalizing.  The going was faster and easier since we were going with the seas; I scanned the water ahead and Chris watched behind, but for eight minutes we saw nothing and I gave up.  On the way back south, we saw them come up again near the south end of Grand Island.  Assuming it was the same group (which it seemed to be), they'd turned around and headed south again, covering impressively large distances in short order.  I doubt they were intentionally avoiding us, as we were a small blip in a big area and never got closer than a quarter mile from them, so I wondered if they'd honed in on a noisy seal or something.  Happy to have seen orcas, but also disappointed to have seen nothing but distant fins, we banged our way south against the seas.  Stephen's Passage was quiet--no whales or exciting groups of birds, just snowy Admiralty and sunshine, and Chris drove the rest of the way to the homestead while I relaxed.  We distracted Cailey from chewing on the oar and other wooden poles with a piece of driftwood I'd picked up on Little Island and she gnawed happily for some time, also devouring a bone from the beach. 

By the time we got to the homestead it was 7:30 and the sun was low on the horizon back in Stephen's Passage, long out of sight at the lodge.  We dropped the crab pot and cruised into shore; all appeared to be in order.  Cailey jumped out, we unloaded gear, and I took off to anchor the boat, kayak in tow.  Cailey ran along the bank and waded out after me a little, but I called out for her to stay and she contented herself with watching and romping around with Chris.  While I was anchoring, Chris said it was like she suddenly realized she was free and went crazy, jackrabbit running around the meadows and needlessly leaping everywhere.  She reminded me of Nigel when I got back from anchoring--play bowing and running in circles as I drug the kayak up the beach.

But we had immediate work to do!  Three hours on the water in early April had left us both chilled and the stove wasn't functional.  Thankfully, it goes together pretty quickly and we soon had the smoke stack up.  Chris lit a cheery little fire and I lit the pilots on the stove.  My icy feet were soon thawing while pasta bubbled on the stove.  Cailey was beside herself with a whole new house to sniff (and a whole new array of items she had to learn to leave alone).  Despite the long day she settled down only when we did, around 9:30 (she's usually asleep by 7:00).  Consequently, I expected to have a long and restful night's sleep, but she woke up at first light (4:30) to continue to explore her new world.  Letting her outside partially solved the problem, though she noisily rummaged around under the lodge.  I did get to doze on and off for a couple of hours, but all in all, I didn't end up nearly as well rested as I had expected!

It didn't help that the mice were noisy all night, which not only woke me up but was a constant reminder of that disappointing discovery.  We saw very little mouse dirt, but discovered a whole bag of pasta, half a bag of rice, oatmeal, and various other overwintered food stashed around the lodge.  The second disappointment was the malfunctioning sink. As soon as I was up, I went about getting us water.  Stepping out the front door, I called to Cailey who was down by the water; she lifted her head, looked at me for a second, and then bounded up with uncontained enthusiasm.  She danced around me as we headed up the trail to the water source, breaking away to leap like a deer through the dormant devil's club and fallen trees.  It's a neat time to explore the property with the undergrowth unleaved and relatively sparse.  At the edge of the creek a big snow patch covered the water line and the path and Cailey ran around that, too.

A hemlock had fallen over the creek from the upriver side, crossing over the little waterfall just above the olive barrel's hollow and resting on the olive barrel itself!  Amazingly, something else had stopped the fall and I was able to pull the barrel out with only a little extra effort.  The water was high and fast, so I used a hoe to clean out the hollow, then placed the barrel in, repositioned it when it seemed a little too far back, then secured it with rocks and dammed the area to raise the water level.  Back at the lodge, water was pouring through the open filter heads.  I needed to changer the filter cartridges before securing them, which I hoped were stored in the attic, which required a ladder, which required unwrapping the tarp around the outhouse to release the ladder its line was tied to.  Long story short, I found the filters in the attic (along with more evidence of mouse damage in the chewed paper towel rolls and soiled linens) and put together the filter system, and we had water!  Actually, more water than we wanted.  The faucet maintained a small, steady stream even when turned fully off.  I unhooked the water line later and held up a flashlight while Chris turned the faucet on and off; as far as I could tell it appeared to fully shut, and I was out of ideas.  Thankfully, Chris was more resourceful and found a length of sink pipe to divert the water and nearly silence the flow.

It was only then that I finally made the rounds to the rest of the cabins.  I'd seen two of them from above when hiking to the creek, so I knew at least those had not sustained catastrophic damage.  They all turned out to be in good shape, though I was disappointed to find that a mouse had also spent some time in Cottonwood (either I'd failed to seal up the hole around the water inlet pipe or it had come loose).  Mink's vanity cabinet was covered in thick mold, but nothing else was out of shape.  The sheet of plastic protecting Harbor Seal's door was still intact, so I didn't open it up, but everything looked okay from the outside.  Two trees had fallen from the middle of the freshet gully upriver between Harbor Seal and Hermit Thrush which will be a good, relatively easy source of firewood later on.  I tried to put together the water system for Hermit Thrush when I got there, but found the last filter leaked catastrophically; tightening it didn't help, which is when I realized that it lacked an o-ring (the o-ring groove was dark and deceptive).  When my mom and I had dismantled the water systems last fall, we greased all the o-rings and left them inside the cabins with the filters and filter housings.  There was a third o-ring with the group of filters from my cabin, but it did not fit.  I figured I must have put the wrong o-ring on one of the others, but they clearly fit their own housings and not this one.  Harbor Seal's filters were also in my cabin, but there weren't any o-rings with them at all!  Maybe we'd taken them back to the lodge and somehow mixed them up?  Whatever was up, I wouldn’t have running water that day.  I was also thwarted in my attempts to start the generator.  Despite the brand new spark plug (which I was sure was the problem), the engine wouldn't budge, curtailing all impending projects.

At some point in here I think I took a nap and there may have been several rounds of Connect 4.  It was interesting being at Snettisham so early, and it really felt more like fall than spring, including my general urge to rest rather than work!  Outside, the fine weather had given way to clouds and occasional sprinkles.  Bird life there and on the ride down was sparse--none of the dramatic congregations that I associate with spring migration, smelt runs, or plankton blooms, and there were no whales at all.  On land there were a few varied thrushes and winter wrens singing, and sooty grouse, but little else.  No hummingbirds came begging to the window, though I thought I may have heard one.  All in all, I was a bit discouraged by the water system failures, the mouse infestations, the generator, and my own lack of initiative.

Cailey goes out of her way to leap through the forest	Cailey and a seal watch each other	The olive barrel in place
The fallen trees below Hermit Thrush	The root wad of the fallen trees	Snettisham lions

That evening I intended to bake some Sweetheart sockeye in the oven with fresh peas, but couldn't find an appropriate dish, so wound up braising them on the stovetop.  Although I didn't have high hopes, it was amazing.  Then we watched a terrible movie before I headed to my cabin.  I'd fetched the dog bed back down from the attic and placed Cailey's blanket in the middle of it next to the bed.  Once I convinced her that sharing my bed (which is on the floor) was not an option, she curled up in the middle of the dog bed and sank so deep she was virtually encircled.  It looked pretty cozy and she didn't shiver all night (the nights were still cold).  Chris read in the lodge for a bit longer before coming to Hermit Thrush and managed to take a photo of a very cute, bold mouse in the wood pile. 

In the morning, Chris and I tried to go for a COASST walk, but the tide was too high.  I did see that one of the two cottonwoods on Nigel's grave was alive, as was the cottonwood in the tree trunk upriver, but I didn't look at the others.  In the end, we opted to head back to town around 1:00 and, upon settling into the Ronquil (and leaving behind the stress of a falling tide departure), I immediately felt cheerier.  Cailey sad on the back bench and looked back at the homestead for all the world like she was gazing at the happiest place is the world.  The inlet was flat calm and inviting.  Chris pulled the crab pot and found a small tanner crab inside which we released.  We did go by the sea lion haulout on the way out and thought we saw fewer lions than usual, especially for so early in the season.  The seas were calm all the way to Taku Harbor, then began to pick up as we neared Taku Inlet.  It was a bit choppy then and slow going and I stuck close to the mainland shore for a while to gain some shelter.  This gave us a chance to take a look at the old Circle Point winter sea lion haulout, which is usually abandoned by the time I head that way.  The most I'd ever seen there were two lions, but there were probably at least 30 there this time.  Neat!  As we banged our way across Taku Inlet, Cailey curled up between us like the best little boat dog.  All in all, it was a more or less successful trip--and at least it allowed me to identify problems early on so I can hopefully fix them before the season really gets underway.