Embarking on a transformative journey, we set sail from Vancouver, with a dream to explore the majestic landscapes of the Pacific. This adventure not only tested our sailing skills but also deepened our connection with nature and each other. Returning to Canadian waters marked a poignant moment of reflection and achievement, as we embraced the challenges and triumphs of our incredible journey.

Nearly a year after leaving Vancouver, we’ve now sailed thousands of miles through some of the Pacific’s most incredible coastlines—from the misty inlets of Washington and the fog-draped shores of California, down to the vibrant energy of Mexico’s Baja, across the wide-open Pacific to Hawaii, and north into the wild, untouched beauty of Alaska. On June 21, 2025, we crossed back into Canadian waters—a moment that felt both surreal and deeply grounding.

We sailed toward Dixon Entrance under clear skies and a steady breeze, bound for Prince Rupert, BC. Known for its rough seas and unpredictable weather, Dixon Entrance is the kind of place you plan for—but today, it rolled out the welcome mat. Smooth sailing, sunshine, and not a whitecap in sight. After four incredible weeks in Alaska, the sight of the Canadian shoreline creeping over the horizon hit us right in the feels. It wasn’t just another sailing day—it was the kind that makes you pause, soak it all in, and realize just how far you’ve come.

Checking into customs was refreshingly simple—a quick phone call, a couple of questions, and we were cleared. No dockside inspections, no fuss. With formalities behind us, we crossed the Prince Rupert harbor and dropped anchor in Russell Arm, where we’ve been ever since, waiting on the arrival of Logan and Cash—and their newest crewmate, Nikko.

Since anchoring, our days have revolved around boat work and trying to stay dry. Between painting, mast repairs, and various odd jobs, we’ve been dodging near-constant rain. Apparently, Prince Rupert holds the title for the rainiest place in British Columbia… and we believe it.

That said, we’ve still made time to enjoy the town. We’ve explored the waterfront, taken a few much-needed walks, and on Canada Day, we walked the Rushbrook Trail before heading out in the dinghy to watch the fireworks from the water. It was one of the rare clear nights we’ve had, and seeing the reflections of fireworks dance across the harbor was a highlight we won’t forget.

July 2nd, we finally got a full day of sunshine—the first since we arrived—and couldn’t resist heading ashore. A shaded, tree-lined trail followed the shoreline from our anchorage, leading us to the mysterious Salt Lake. This little inland oasis connects to the inlet only at high tide, offering boat access for the adventurous. The lakeside was dotted with weather-beaten cabins, moss-covered, and clearly long unoccupied—evoking images of a small, spontaneous community of past explorers.

Salt Lake itself has an intriguing backstory: historically, it was home to a ragtag settlement of free spirits—hippies, fishermen, cannery workers, and biologists—living in tilted shanties on the inlet’s edge. At high tide, shallow-draft boats would slip into the slough that fed saltwater into the brackish lake—hence its name.

We walked as far as the trail would take us, then followed the rocky shoreline back, casually pacing the incoming tide. We weren’t in any real rush, but there’s something about walking a shrinking beach that adds just the right hint of adventure to an otherwise peaceful afternoon.

Over the next few days, we’ll be finishing up our prep, restocking supplies, and watching the weather closely as we get ready to cross Hecate Strait toward Haida Gwaii. It’s a passage we’ve long looked forward to—remote, rich in history, and a place that’s been on Alex’s sailing wish list for years.

For now, we’re enjoying the stillness of the anchorage, sipping coffee, playing crib, checking forecasts, and soaking up these in-between moments before the next chapter unfolds.