July 28, 2008
And I don’t know what words will surface once I am grounded on ‘terra firma’. Will the leisure, the sense of wonder and learning to “just be content” continue? Or will the old Sue resurface with the urge to produce tangible goals accomplished by days end return immediately? Only time will tell. This has been a great adventure for both Pat and I. He has always wanted to cruise for two continuous months and feels content with what we did accomplish with our new boat and that I am ready to do it again next year, for two months and lots of smaller cruises in between. The people and their stories we’ve met along the way are the highlights for me. Next would be the magic of each mooring, stop along the way, some more than others. Mother Nature has been very good to us and I could not ever underplay the role she had in making this a successful journey.
This morning after spending four leisurely days at Garrison Bay, our thought was to stop at Spencer’s Spit on Lopez Island. Good fortune of current pushing, and Rosario Strait calm we unanimously chose to continue on. Looking over to the west, the Straits of Juan de Fuca was socked in with fog confirmed our other choice to pursue the slow trek down the Swinomish Channel. The weather and current was on our side, yet the air has had a ‘nip’ to it. (My 1st homemade sweater has been worn almost constantly since I completed it last week due to the temperature change.) Our final destination was Oak Harbor Marina on Whidbey Island which we reached by 8 pm tonight.
I hope to conclude my thoughts on our last four days once we get home. Depending on how the minus tide affects the shallow bay just outside the marina, will determine how soon and how far we travel tomorrow. If we feel like another day of just heading south, closer to home, we may end up at Blake Island until Friday. Or, if a shorter stint is more appropriate, it will be Edmonds or Kingston. Flexibility; working with tides, currents and weather all keep the Captain alert and the ‘Best Mate’ is willing to go with the flow, as long as she has the light at the end – home – in sight!
July 25, 2008, – Garrison Bay, San Juan Island
Thanks to taking time to read “Waggoner Cruising Guide” I happened to read about Garrison Bay, literally minutes away from Roche Harbor. It is a nugget of an anchorage; large bay with good mud for anchoring, lots of directions to go for kayaking and the option of rowing to shore; arriving to English Camp historical park. This is a wonderful place to explore paths, simple hikes to whittle away the hours away from the boat; stretching out legs and talking to very interesting people, all of who have a story to tell. Or, as it turned out, cross paths with fellow TTPYC members, Tom & Nita Sitterley. We had a great time sharing our cruising similarities and just getting to know one another.
After setting anchor and letting it sit to secure its self, Pat rowed us to shore. We spent several hours walking; exploring English Camp, a small historical site that is fairly well maintained. There is a large field of freshly mowed grass where the soldiers once practiced their drills. Facing Garrison Bay a couple buildings, with fresh coats of white paint, stand firm. A simple museum with old photos, reference books to purchase and a short informative documentary is available to anyone interested to sit and watch. We took a walk to the camp’s cemetery that is left unattended; five headstones stand with notations about the soldiers who died while serving here, guarded by a white picket fence and a single maple tree. After taking the effort to get there and then thinking about the hike to the mausoleum at Roche Harbor, my thoughts of “why do people want to be buried?” crossed my mind once again. I realize that these remnants have been here for a long time, but the lack of interest and preservation indicate to my best estimation that there is not enough sentimentality to warrant this use of land.
The formal garden is still attended to after all these years. The boxwood hedge around the sections look weary, but still stand trimmed and protective of their assigned flowers; geraniums, foxglove, black-eyed Susan, lavender and heather, coreopsis, and cosmos. Hundreds of bees were diligent - single-minded with their work at hand, collecting nectar for their winter’s supply of food. I may not be home working in my garden this summer yet surprisingly enough it has not made me sad or anxious to walk through the gardens of others. I have found satisfaction vicariously and enjoyed taking many photos.
Stepping back into history was easy with the help of a congenial troupe of historians set up camp. They were dressed and portrayed actual people that lived on these grounds when English Camp was active, 1859-1872. It was easy to visualize the lives of the children, the women and men because all details of daily life were in place; canvas tents, boxes holding their possessions, muskets, large enameled blue coffee pots sat nestled in the hot coals of the cooking fire, trestle tables with large jars of fresh pickles open – a sure invitation to “take one”, large wheels of cheese, and another jar of hard boiled eggs, and fresh loaves of bread. Tins of Twinning’s English tea set beside fine porcelain tea pots set on butler tables at many of the tents, indicating their traditional afternoon quite time. Uniforms for both the American and English solider were reproduced with painstaking detail. Admiral Baynes was definitely our favorite character.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Back in the USA
July 24, 2008 Roche Harbor, San Juan Island
Yesterday’s jaunt from Sidney Island to Roche Harbor was exciting for me, especially after having a night of winds howling all night. When the tide is in and the wind blows the spit offers little protection. I did not fear for safety, I simply can’t sleep when the wind is howling around the shrouds, sheets and halyards and the waves are beating against the boat. Prior to that I had “cabin-fever” or having the feeling of not being able to leave the boat and walk the beach because the waves and current are such that your tender is not adequate to take you to shore. It made for a long twenty-four hours for me. Haro Strait pushed us along with its current running in our favor and the wind was less than 6 knots. An overcast sky, something that has become foreign to us, sharpened the colors of the islands that we passed or saw in the distance. It has been five weeks since we entered Canadian waters. The spring greens have transformed to summer’s dry golden browns during our passage north everywhere we look. Even the evergreen trees have lost their verdant intensity. The air is beginning to have the ‘nip’ of fall in the early morning and again in evening even with the daytime temperatures warm. We aren’t sure if it actually was warmer further north, or if the summer season is past her prime. No matter what though, it is good to be back to the USA!
Our adventure still has ten more days, with opportunities for many more memories so I won’t say the trip is over. Yet in honesty, I am very excited to know that home is closer, rather than further away. Going through Customs, here in Roche Harbor, was a pleasant experience. Pat has tried various ports for re-entry and is now convinced that this is the best. The docks are good and quiet compared to Friday Harbor, the important amenities for cruisers are easily accessible for provisioning as well as independent local artists have created a walkway of their diverse quality products. There are cafes, and restaurants, a swimming pool, tennis and walks to historical landmarks, offering something for every interest and age.
Later on this morning we are going to move over to Garrison Bay, really just around the corner. Waggoner’s says that it offers plenty of good anchorage and we can access English Camp’s historical grounds. The thought is to move over to Spencer’s Spit on Sunday. Monday we will spend a long day going down the Swinomish Channel. Pat has read the “Ports and Passes” several times, every time it looks as if we would be going against the Straits of Juan de Fuca currents which makes for a longer and harder passage. My Captain has kept us safe and planned well up to this point so I know the remaining journey will go well. The only variable is Mother Nature and he always takes that into consideration when making timelines.
July 21, 2008 Sidney Spit, Sidney Island –
“Careful what you wish for.” I did write the other day that it was high time that we should sail. Guess what? Yesterday provided us that option shortly after leaving Cowichan Bay. The wind was a blowing a steady 10-11 knots just off our nose. We can’t say enough about the ease of hoisting the mainsail with the push of the buttons! Pat at the helm points the bow just right while I raise the mainsail, stretching my neck so I can watch the sail – I have gotten it down to a science when to stop, eliminating a batten hanging up in a lazy-jack. Next I pulled out the jib from the roller furling, without breaking a sweat. Liberte’ was like a racehorse that heard the bell and the gate released! A clip of 6-7+ knots was clocked on the knotmeter in short order. She all but guided herself into the groove while Pat was grinning from ear to ear! I on the other hand was chanting the mantra we learned in ‘Cruise & Learn’, “If in doubt, let it out!” It seems like it has been forever since I had been sailing in such a manner, and honestly, I was not feeling comfortable as the rail neared the water. With the boat heeling so quickly, the loose items that I hadn’t secured for these conditions required attention in the cabin. The boat had a healthy heel which makes for an interesting descent to the cabin; the body must re-think what standing upright is and resorts to strange body angles to compensate for staying on one’s feet. After a half hour of this constant angle, I gathered a little courage and asked Pat if he could flatten her out – just a little; knowing full well that this is a conflict of a committed racer versus a neophyte cruiser. I watched Pat’s eyes on the main as he probably was thinking to himself-‘what can I do to maximize her potential for speed?’ I could feel his hands twitching in resistance as he changed the point, and adjusted the traveler to keep his ‘best mate’, ‘the Admiral’ as he calls, me comfortable. I appreciate this and really wish that the safe feeling was innate, natural and not something I must acquire over lots of time on the water. Pat set her course and Liberte’ tracked to it, requiring only an occasional touch of the wheel for a minor adjustment or avoid one of the many crab pots that are out and about all the waterways we have traveled since returning to the Gulf Islands. The last hour, the wind dropped down to 5-8 knots. Liberte’ instinct to race with the wind, allowed her hull speed to match the speed of the wind, minus one knot or less. Pat just grinned and shook his head with pleasure. All in all it was delightful passage to Sidney Spit on Sidney Island. Time was not an issue for today’s journey, making the time for multiple tacks to windward enjoyable. Perfection for me would have been to have the wind conditions in reverse; it would have allowed my sea legs to adapt gradually.
Arriving to Sidney Spit on a Sunday afternoon, at low tide was memorable. The number of boats at anchor, beached or powering around, the crowds of people playing or relaxing on the sandy beach, then looking over your shoulder the Sidney’s skyline was just on the other side of the channel. We could have been pulling into Alki Beach in West Seattle! It was mayhem and we were not impressed. The most annoying were the power boats that reminded me of limited hydroplanes. They roared onto the beach, replaced passengers with new ones and took another run through the bay and out into Sidney Channel. By 8 PM, the majority of boats on the western shoreline left, emptying the shore and allowing peace to return to Sidney Spit. At 10 PM the waning full moon shone bright thus the stars had to wait to steal the scene in the early hours of morning. In the horizon the dark hills of Sidney were outlined with a gradient of glowing orange to pink to evening shades of deep blue/black.
Low tide is the element that makes Sidney Spit a destination. Without it there would be no the long-drawn-out out “C” sandy beach. The dock that receives small ferries from Sidney would remain empty, except for those who wished to walk the small forest, or camp at the far end. It is the beach that is the focal point and there is plenty to explore on the northeast and northwest side. There are a few sections where dunes are held by swaying tall green grasses and small shrubs. An unending supply of bleached driftwood, stretching most of the length of the spit, challenges budding architects; the results are a wide variety of forts, windbreaks and huts above the high tide line. Each architect augmenting the previous addition or starts anew. This is a great beach for spending an entire day for young and old. Sand castles, running about unhindered with the concern of sharp objects, natural or manmade, and there were sections of beach rock for added diversity. The eastern side of the spit is similar with the exception of vast beds of kelp drying in the sun and filling the air with its distinctive pungent smell. A variety of shorebirds occupied this beach more than people; a flock of seagulls were seen napping, head tucked under a wing in the sticky mudflats while a lone sandpiper, chirped as if lost, running in and out of the grasses. A bald eagle sat watchful upon a rock shoal beyond the breaking water line as few boats pass in Satellite Channel.
Besides offering an expansive beach to stretch ones legs after a day of boating, the woodland walk offers a different setting. It appeared to me that this small forest had as much growing as it did varying degrees of decomposition. Perhaps a combination of shallow soil, lack of summer rain and strong winds that allows survival of the fittest. A lagoon, now restricted to all, is a bird sanctuary. It is quiet with a beautiful serene setting. We saw an eagle standing in the shallow water searching for food while Great Blue Herons took their statue like stance on the opposite shore. Sidney Island is a nice place to have visited but I’m not sure that it will call me back again soon. With a momentary grounding, as we searched for ‘our spot’ we learned that there is a high ridge in the middle of the bay and should we return, the best entrance is to come in from the northwest corner and go down the middle of the line of buoys.
Cowichan Bay: To those who enjoy smaller towns for places to provision or just stop, we recommend Fishermen’s Wharf Marina at Cowichan Bay. The town offers a bakery that taunts and teases anyone walking by with their ongoing loaves of bread that are pulled from the oven, which seem to leave the store more often than not, still warm. A couple doors down from there you are drawn into the Hilary’s Fresh Cheese Store. We walked in and immediately the pungent smell of garlic roasting had our mouths watering, salivating. The garlic soup was the soup of the day tomorrow. One of the most memorable moments in Cowichan Bay was when we walked through the Dutch door of Arthur Vickers’ Shipyard Gallery. Never have I seen art of this caliber nor his technique. Arthur was present and walked us through the gallery, he explained the story of the print and then by adjusting the lighting, his images transformed in color and/or added hidden images surfacing! There is a good chance that once we are home, we may give him a call and purchase one of our favorite serigraph print to celebrate our birthdays, Christmas and whatever other holidays are left in the year and remember the first of many cruises together.
Our bus trip to Duncan took about 30 minutes and we thought this beat walking! We got off in the heart of Duncan at 1 PM; the festivities were in full swing. Merchants were having sidewalk sales, children were waiting patiently, some unsure while others were very animated with excitement to have an artistic young woman paint their faces, transforming them into beautiful butterflies, flowers, or replicating the red tulips of an embroidered sundress one little girl was wearing onto her face. We did not see the Farmer’s Market, we may have missed that, but there was something for everyone taking the time to be out and about in Duncan. We left the downtown area and recruited Pat’s memory to locate the Native American Museum he and his friend Bob had visited 10 years ago. It was closed. Retracing our tracks back to town, we did find a sign directing us to the International Pow Wow. We are pleased that we did and walked the dusty path to the field where it was taking place. Being an international gathering it wasn’t as large a turn out as I had thought it would be. There were an equal number of participants and their family’s members as there were guests. We had a great time; this was my third time observing and Pat’s first. The ceremonial dress from the different First Nation people were quite diverse; old traditional buckskin, quill beadwork, appliqué similar to button blankets, Cowichan style sweaters, and modern adaptations representative of their traditional clothing. I only wish that rather than numbers pinned to the contestants, their Nation was stated.
We sat on the grass for several hours as men competed for the title of “Iron Man”. It began with a circle of eleven men. Our favorite, and we believe the crowd’s also, was the eldest. He looked proud, wise and definitely intent on receiving the title. His competitors were men one third to half his age. Live ‘bands’ from three different tribes played songs. To Pat & I, they sounded the same, with very little differences. The dancers knew the nuances, thus they would begin as if they were asking their Higher Power for support prior to hunting or simply variations to what I believe they call the “Two Step”. The twenty third song was half way through when we gave up; we did not have the perseverance to wait it out. We just hope the elder won or our second choice, the man, half his age; he appeared to have more purpose with his execution throughout the performance than the others. I am glad we were not the judges.
Yesterday’s jaunt from Sidney Island to Roche Harbor was exciting for me, especially after having a night of winds howling all night. When the tide is in and the wind blows the spit offers little protection. I did not fear for safety, I simply can’t sleep when the wind is howling around the shrouds, sheets and halyards and the waves are beating against the boat. Prior to that I had “cabin-fever” or having the feeling of not being able to leave the boat and walk the beach because the waves and current are such that your tender is not adequate to take you to shore. It made for a long twenty-four hours for me. Haro Strait pushed us along with its current running in our favor and the wind was less than 6 knots. An overcast sky, something that has become foreign to us, sharpened the colors of the islands that we passed or saw in the distance. It has been five weeks since we entered Canadian waters. The spring greens have transformed to summer’s dry golden browns during our passage north everywhere we look. Even the evergreen trees have lost their verdant intensity. The air is beginning to have the ‘nip’ of fall in the early morning and again in evening even with the daytime temperatures warm. We aren’t sure if it actually was warmer further north, or if the summer season is past her prime. No matter what though, it is good to be back to the USA!
Our adventure still has ten more days, with opportunities for many more memories so I won’t say the trip is over. Yet in honesty, I am very excited to know that home is closer, rather than further away. Going through Customs, here in Roche Harbor, was a pleasant experience. Pat has tried various ports for re-entry and is now convinced that this is the best. The docks are good and quiet compared to Friday Harbor, the important amenities for cruisers are easily accessible for provisioning as well as independent local artists have created a walkway of their diverse quality products. There are cafes, and restaurants, a swimming pool, tennis and walks to historical landmarks, offering something for every interest and age.
Later on this morning we are going to move over to Garrison Bay, really just around the corner. Waggoner’s says that it offers plenty of good anchorage and we can access English Camp’s historical grounds. The thought is to move over to Spencer’s Spit on Sunday. Monday we will spend a long day going down the Swinomish Channel. Pat has read the “Ports and Passes” several times, every time it looks as if we would be going against the Straits of Juan de Fuca currents which makes for a longer and harder passage. My Captain has kept us safe and planned well up to this point so I know the remaining journey will go well. The only variable is Mother Nature and he always takes that into consideration when making timelines.
July 21, 2008 Sidney Spit, Sidney Island –
“Careful what you wish for.” I did write the other day that it was high time that we should sail. Guess what? Yesterday provided us that option shortly after leaving Cowichan Bay. The wind was a blowing a steady 10-11 knots just off our nose. We can’t say enough about the ease of hoisting the mainsail with the push of the buttons! Pat at the helm points the bow just right while I raise the mainsail, stretching my neck so I can watch the sail – I have gotten it down to a science when to stop, eliminating a batten hanging up in a lazy-jack. Next I pulled out the jib from the roller furling, without breaking a sweat. Liberte’ was like a racehorse that heard the bell and the gate released! A clip of 6-7+ knots was clocked on the knotmeter in short order. She all but guided herself into the groove while Pat was grinning from ear to ear! I on the other hand was chanting the mantra we learned in ‘Cruise & Learn’, “If in doubt, let it out!” It seems like it has been forever since I had been sailing in such a manner, and honestly, I was not feeling comfortable as the rail neared the water. With the boat heeling so quickly, the loose items that I hadn’t secured for these conditions required attention in the cabin. The boat had a healthy heel which makes for an interesting descent to the cabin; the body must re-think what standing upright is and resorts to strange body angles to compensate for staying on one’s feet. After a half hour of this constant angle, I gathered a little courage and asked Pat if he could flatten her out – just a little; knowing full well that this is a conflict of a committed racer versus a neophyte cruiser. I watched Pat’s eyes on the main as he probably was thinking to himself-‘what can I do to maximize her potential for speed?’ I could feel his hands twitching in resistance as he changed the point, and adjusted the traveler to keep his ‘best mate’, ‘the Admiral’ as he calls, me comfortable. I appreciate this and really wish that the safe feeling was innate, natural and not something I must acquire over lots of time on the water. Pat set her course and Liberte’ tracked to it, requiring only an occasional touch of the wheel for a minor adjustment or avoid one of the many crab pots that are out and about all the waterways we have traveled since returning to the Gulf Islands. The last hour, the wind dropped down to 5-8 knots. Liberte’ instinct to race with the wind, allowed her hull speed to match the speed of the wind, minus one knot or less. Pat just grinned and shook his head with pleasure. All in all it was delightful passage to Sidney Spit on Sidney Island. Time was not an issue for today’s journey, making the time for multiple tacks to windward enjoyable. Perfection for me would have been to have the wind conditions in reverse; it would have allowed my sea legs to adapt gradually.
Arriving to Sidney Spit on a Sunday afternoon, at low tide was memorable. The number of boats at anchor, beached or powering around, the crowds of people playing or relaxing on the sandy beach, then looking over your shoulder the Sidney’s skyline was just on the other side of the channel. We could have been pulling into Alki Beach in West Seattle! It was mayhem and we were not impressed. The most annoying were the power boats that reminded me of limited hydroplanes. They roared onto the beach, replaced passengers with new ones and took another run through the bay and out into Sidney Channel. By 8 PM, the majority of boats on the western shoreline left, emptying the shore and allowing peace to return to Sidney Spit. At 10 PM the waning full moon shone bright thus the stars had to wait to steal the scene in the early hours of morning. In the horizon the dark hills of Sidney were outlined with a gradient of glowing orange to pink to evening shades of deep blue/black.
Low tide is the element that makes Sidney Spit a destination. Without it there would be no the long-drawn-out out “C” sandy beach. The dock that receives small ferries from Sidney would remain empty, except for those who wished to walk the small forest, or camp at the far end. It is the beach that is the focal point and there is plenty to explore on the northeast and northwest side. There are a few sections where dunes are held by swaying tall green grasses and small shrubs. An unending supply of bleached driftwood, stretching most of the length of the spit, challenges budding architects; the results are a wide variety of forts, windbreaks and huts above the high tide line. Each architect augmenting the previous addition or starts anew. This is a great beach for spending an entire day for young and old. Sand castles, running about unhindered with the concern of sharp objects, natural or manmade, and there were sections of beach rock for added diversity. The eastern side of the spit is similar with the exception of vast beds of kelp drying in the sun and filling the air with its distinctive pungent smell. A variety of shorebirds occupied this beach more than people; a flock of seagulls were seen napping, head tucked under a wing in the sticky mudflats while a lone sandpiper, chirped as if lost, running in and out of the grasses. A bald eagle sat watchful upon a rock shoal beyond the breaking water line as few boats pass in Satellite Channel.
Besides offering an expansive beach to stretch ones legs after a day of boating, the woodland walk offers a different setting. It appeared to me that this small forest had as much growing as it did varying degrees of decomposition. Perhaps a combination of shallow soil, lack of summer rain and strong winds that allows survival of the fittest. A lagoon, now restricted to all, is a bird sanctuary. It is quiet with a beautiful serene setting. We saw an eagle standing in the shallow water searching for food while Great Blue Herons took their statue like stance on the opposite shore. Sidney Island is a nice place to have visited but I’m not sure that it will call me back again soon. With a momentary grounding, as we searched for ‘our spot’ we learned that there is a high ridge in the middle of the bay and should we return, the best entrance is to come in from the northwest corner and go down the middle of the line of buoys.
Cowichan Bay: To those who enjoy smaller towns for places to provision or just stop, we recommend Fishermen’s Wharf Marina at Cowichan Bay. The town offers a bakery that taunts and teases anyone walking by with their ongoing loaves of bread that are pulled from the oven, which seem to leave the store more often than not, still warm. A couple doors down from there you are drawn into the Hilary’s Fresh Cheese Store. We walked in and immediately the pungent smell of garlic roasting had our mouths watering, salivating. The garlic soup was the soup of the day tomorrow. One of the most memorable moments in Cowichan Bay was when we walked through the Dutch door of Arthur Vickers’ Shipyard Gallery. Never have I seen art of this caliber nor his technique. Arthur was present and walked us through the gallery, he explained the story of the print and then by adjusting the lighting, his images transformed in color and/or added hidden images surfacing! There is a good chance that once we are home, we may give him a call and purchase one of our favorite serigraph print to celebrate our birthdays, Christmas and whatever other holidays are left in the year and remember the first of many cruises together.
Our bus trip to Duncan took about 30 minutes and we thought this beat walking! We got off in the heart of Duncan at 1 PM; the festivities were in full swing. Merchants were having sidewalk sales, children were waiting patiently, some unsure while others were very animated with excitement to have an artistic young woman paint their faces, transforming them into beautiful butterflies, flowers, or replicating the red tulips of an embroidered sundress one little girl was wearing onto her face. We did not see the Farmer’s Market, we may have missed that, but there was something for everyone taking the time to be out and about in Duncan. We left the downtown area and recruited Pat’s memory to locate the Native American Museum he and his friend Bob had visited 10 years ago. It was closed. Retracing our tracks back to town, we did find a sign directing us to the International Pow Wow. We are pleased that we did and walked the dusty path to the field where it was taking place. Being an international gathering it wasn’t as large a turn out as I had thought it would be. There were an equal number of participants and their family’s members as there were guests. We had a great time; this was my third time observing and Pat’s first. The ceremonial dress from the different First Nation people were quite diverse; old traditional buckskin, quill beadwork, appliqué similar to button blankets, Cowichan style sweaters, and modern adaptations representative of their traditional clothing. I only wish that rather than numbers pinned to the contestants, their Nation was stated.
We sat on the grass for several hours as men competed for the title of “Iron Man”. It began with a circle of eleven men. Our favorite, and we believe the crowd’s also, was the eldest. He looked proud, wise and definitely intent on receiving the title. His competitors were men one third to half his age. Live ‘bands’ from three different tribes played songs. To Pat & I, they sounded the same, with very little differences. The dancers knew the nuances, thus they would begin as if they were asking their Higher Power for support prior to hunting or simply variations to what I believe they call the “Two Step”. The twenty third song was half way through when we gave up; we did not have the perseverance to wait it out. We just hope the elder won or our second choice, the man, half his age; he appeared to have more purpose with his execution throughout the performance than the others. I am glad we were not the judges.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Perfection Continued
July 18, 2008 Cowichan, BC
Well, almost! I am beginning to see the difference between cruising and simply sailing for the joy of sailing. Two months ago, if asked honestly which I felt more comfortable and/or preferred, I would have said motoring – sailing if the wind was around 10-15 knots. Now I am finding that with cruising to reach a destination and taking into consideration all factors: passing rapids, using slack currents to one’s advantage, opposing tides puts time constraints on the sailor. Motoring or motor sailing is the mode we most often use. Yesterday we had one of those spectacular mornings when there was a light wind varying 10-12 knots, and I really wanted to sail. The water transformed itself to Eisenberg Ice rhinestones with flecks of cerulean blue. It was so vibrant, so glorious and I wanted to savor the moment! Two months has given me a chance to learn the basic sailing fundamentals and gain confidence in myself. The Doyle Stackpack along with the powered main winch enables easy deployment of the main and letting it down. The phenomenal number of halyards and sheets I’ve learned to ignore, they are for racing. Today I wanted so badly not to rush but to “play” with the wind and simply sail for sailing’s sake!
We were happy leaving Silva Bay Marina where we had felt captive due to strong winds and tight moorage that kept us at the dock an extra day. Should we need to stop in the vicinity in the future, we definitely will go on to Page’s Marina for a night.
While on watch for obstacles after leaving Gabriola Passage, I noted two crab pots off the starboard side at 1 o‘clock. About 100 yards beyond us, the sailboat that left the dock minutes before us did not notice these crab pots, and went right over one snarling the crab pot’s line into the prop. Perhaps it was due to having the jib up, creating a blind spot. Or, maybe the sparkling effect of the sun on the water hid the danger. Either way, the damage was done. We stopped to offer assistance as they were lowering their dinghy off the bow. The pot’s buoy was snug against the portside stern. They were hoping that simply cutting the crab pot line would allow the propeller to free itself of the line and said for us to continue on. What a sinking feeling that must be, not knowing how compromised the use of the engine is. They were fortunate that it was not within a narrow passage, or home to rocky shoals or rapids, but an open expanse of water near Pirate’s Cove. Yesterday’s lesson at another’s expense gave value to looking harder at the surface of the water, questioning everything in the waves.
We arrived at Chemainus, BC and were offered help docking by Harmon Bootsma, the marina’s manager. He is well-spoken of in Waggoner’s Cruising Guide. He was no longer sporting a straw hat that he was renowned to wear. Similar to the affect sun has on mainsails; too many seasons of summer’s sun may have caused it to deteriorate. He cheerfully gave us tips of places to go, things to do and being a racer, enjoyed talking to Pat about the racing attributes of Liberte’. The concrete docks are new, and decently spaced. The heavy docks prevented wash from the nearby ferry’s activity from rocking the boats within the marina. The washrooms are clean and secure. The smell of freshly cut lumber hung in the air in a most pleasant way as we walked about the town. A large lumber yard is adjacent to the marina. Many a skipper might be hesitant to use the marina, when they see the large log booms beyond the breakwater; fearing the hassle of fighting a maze of obstacles. This was not evident during our stay. This marina will be used on our next trip north.
We had fun looking for the world famous murals painted on the majority of buildings; by just following the yellow footsteps that meander through the town. Old bicycles were recycled and incorporated in a couple of the scenes most effectively. Horse drawn carts and buggies were available for tourists to clip-clop their way around the town to see the same paintings, only they were told the stories and history of Chemainus.
It did not take us long to discover a perfect hangout -a used bookstore and coffee shop! Here the woman behind the counter offered us insight to the local live theater, Chemainus Theater Festival. With her directions we found the theater at the other end of town, bypassing many ice cream parlors, a few more coffee shops, bakeries, shops and restaurants that had offerings for the locals as well as tourists. We bought tickets for the 8 PM performance, the story of Joan of Arc, “Saint Joan”, by George Bernard Shaw was the performance for the evening. The presentation was done in a contemporary format; simple costumes to depict the era, minimal props and the use of lighting to represent location (i.e. inside a church) or an action, (burning at the stake). The rest was left to the actors and actress to draw the audience into the story. They did just that. We will return to Chemainus whenever we take a cruise north so we can attend another performance.
This morning the water’s appearance was darker and the wind felt cooler as we continued our journey southbound to Cowichan Bay. Looking back at one point, dark clouds dropped down over the higher hills of Vancouver Island giving the perception that rain could be eminent, for them. Salt Spring Island, on our portside, had a few big white clouds with a bright blue sky. Pat’s plan was to hit the Sansum Narrows at slack current. He remembers going through with the water running 4-5 knots many years ago. He said he felt like he was going downhill. To complicate this, fishermen dangling their lines gave an added dimension of excitement. His planning paid off and we just had about 1 knot working against us; .5 due to wind on our nose and .5 due to the current. Once around Separation Point, we traversed Cowichan Bay to Fisherman’s Wharf Marina. Liberte’ looks like a princess among the well used fishing vessels. They are in the process of re-doing and adding to the marina yet they offer all the amenities, laundry, showers electrical and water. All they are clean and it is quiet.
We took a leisurely walk along the main street that follows the shoreline. Whenever you can look between buildings your line of sight is filled with other marinas. It is hard to determine where one ends and the next begins. Boats of every description are worked tightly together. We have talked about it and figured that it takes quite a bit of planning and many skippers to move a boat out in most instances. It is like a puzzle similar to a rubrics cube. Rather than matching colors you have to avoid extending anchors, protruding struts and poles, tenders attached loosely all add dimension to re-positioning. It will take a third party to help us leave in a couple of days, but we will work that problem at that time. Tomorrow we are planning on taking a local bus to the town of Duncan.
Talking to the locals; it took half a dozen, to plan where to catch the bus and get a time schedule. I went online and learned that Duncan is hosting Khowutzun Warmland Inter-tribal Pow Wow, a Bluegrass Festival, Free vineyard tours and tastings, a farmers’ market, and an art show. Besides all these offerings we were heading over there to look at the totem poles that are placed throughout the town. I do believe we will be busy exploring inland tomorrow. If you don’t hear from me within a week, you know that I got lost! That shouldn’t happen because I have my Captain with me and he is great with navigating.
Well, almost! I am beginning to see the difference between cruising and simply sailing for the joy of sailing. Two months ago, if asked honestly which I felt more comfortable and/or preferred, I would have said motoring – sailing if the wind was around 10-15 knots. Now I am finding that with cruising to reach a destination and taking into consideration all factors: passing rapids, using slack currents to one’s advantage, opposing tides puts time constraints on the sailor. Motoring or motor sailing is the mode we most often use. Yesterday we had one of those spectacular mornings when there was a light wind varying 10-12 knots, and I really wanted to sail. The water transformed itself to Eisenberg Ice rhinestones with flecks of cerulean blue. It was so vibrant, so glorious and I wanted to savor the moment! Two months has given me a chance to learn the basic sailing fundamentals and gain confidence in myself. The Doyle Stackpack along with the powered main winch enables easy deployment of the main and letting it down. The phenomenal number of halyards and sheets I’ve learned to ignore, they are for racing. Today I wanted so badly not to rush but to “play” with the wind and simply sail for sailing’s sake!
We were happy leaving Silva Bay Marina where we had felt captive due to strong winds and tight moorage that kept us at the dock an extra day. Should we need to stop in the vicinity in the future, we definitely will go on to Page’s Marina for a night.
While on watch for obstacles after leaving Gabriola Passage, I noted two crab pots off the starboard side at 1 o‘clock. About 100 yards beyond us, the sailboat that left the dock minutes before us did not notice these crab pots, and went right over one snarling the crab pot’s line into the prop. Perhaps it was due to having the jib up, creating a blind spot. Or, maybe the sparkling effect of the sun on the water hid the danger. Either way, the damage was done. We stopped to offer assistance as they were lowering their dinghy off the bow. The pot’s buoy was snug against the portside stern. They were hoping that simply cutting the crab pot line would allow the propeller to free itself of the line and said for us to continue on. What a sinking feeling that must be, not knowing how compromised the use of the engine is. They were fortunate that it was not within a narrow passage, or home to rocky shoals or rapids, but an open expanse of water near Pirate’s Cove. Yesterday’s lesson at another’s expense gave value to looking harder at the surface of the water, questioning everything in the waves.
We arrived at Chemainus, BC and were offered help docking by Harmon Bootsma, the marina’s manager. He is well-spoken of in Waggoner’s Cruising Guide. He was no longer sporting a straw hat that he was renowned to wear. Similar to the affect sun has on mainsails; too many seasons of summer’s sun may have caused it to deteriorate. He cheerfully gave us tips of places to go, things to do and being a racer, enjoyed talking to Pat about the racing attributes of Liberte’. The concrete docks are new, and decently spaced. The heavy docks prevented wash from the nearby ferry’s activity from rocking the boats within the marina. The washrooms are clean and secure. The smell of freshly cut lumber hung in the air in a most pleasant way as we walked about the town. A large lumber yard is adjacent to the marina. Many a skipper might be hesitant to use the marina, when they see the large log booms beyond the breakwater; fearing the hassle of fighting a maze of obstacles. This was not evident during our stay. This marina will be used on our next trip north.
We had fun looking for the world famous murals painted on the majority of buildings; by just following the yellow footsteps that meander through the town. Old bicycles were recycled and incorporated in a couple of the scenes most effectively. Horse drawn carts and buggies were available for tourists to clip-clop their way around the town to see the same paintings, only they were told the stories and history of Chemainus.
It did not take us long to discover a perfect hangout -a used bookstore and coffee shop! Here the woman behind the counter offered us insight to the local live theater, Chemainus Theater Festival. With her directions we found the theater at the other end of town, bypassing many ice cream parlors, a few more coffee shops, bakeries, shops and restaurants that had offerings for the locals as well as tourists. We bought tickets for the 8 PM performance, the story of Joan of Arc, “Saint Joan”, by George Bernard Shaw was the performance for the evening. The presentation was done in a contemporary format; simple costumes to depict the era, minimal props and the use of lighting to represent location (i.e. inside a church) or an action, (burning at the stake). The rest was left to the actors and actress to draw the audience into the story. They did just that. We will return to Chemainus whenever we take a cruise north so we can attend another performance.
This morning the water’s appearance was darker and the wind felt cooler as we continued our journey southbound to Cowichan Bay. Looking back at one point, dark clouds dropped down over the higher hills of Vancouver Island giving the perception that rain could be eminent, for them. Salt Spring Island, on our portside, had a few big white clouds with a bright blue sky. Pat’s plan was to hit the Sansum Narrows at slack current. He remembers going through with the water running 4-5 knots many years ago. He said he felt like he was going downhill. To complicate this, fishermen dangling their lines gave an added dimension of excitement. His planning paid off and we just had about 1 knot working against us; .5 due to wind on our nose and .5 due to the current. Once around Separation Point, we traversed Cowichan Bay to Fisherman’s Wharf Marina. Liberte’ looks like a princess among the well used fishing vessels. They are in the process of re-doing and adding to the marina yet they offer all the amenities, laundry, showers electrical and water. All they are clean and it is quiet.
We took a leisurely walk along the main street that follows the shoreline. Whenever you can look between buildings your line of sight is filled with other marinas. It is hard to determine where one ends and the next begins. Boats of every description are worked tightly together. We have talked about it and figured that it takes quite a bit of planning and many skippers to move a boat out in most instances. It is like a puzzle similar to a rubrics cube. Rather than matching colors you have to avoid extending anchors, protruding struts and poles, tenders attached loosely all add dimension to re-positioning. It will take a third party to help us leave in a couple of days, but we will work that problem at that time. Tomorrow we are planning on taking a local bus to the town of Duncan.
Talking to the locals; it took half a dozen, to plan where to catch the bus and get a time schedule. I went online and learned that Duncan is hosting Khowutzun Warmland Inter-tribal Pow Wow, a Bluegrass Festival, Free vineyard tours and tastings, a farmers’ market, and an art show. Besides all these offerings we were heading over there to look at the totem poles that are placed throughout the town. I do believe we will be busy exploring inland tomorrow. If you don’t hear from me within a week, you know that I got lost! That shouldn’t happen because I have my Captain with me and he is great with navigating.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Recommendations
July 16, 2008
Crossing the Straits of Georgia yesterday morning with ‘Nirvana’ close by was OK. Who would complain with heaven by their side? . We left Secret Cove by 7 AM with our new friends from Port Townsend, Shelley and Gaylon, ‘Nirvana’s’ skippers. The water was not bad until we had gone about one quarter of the way. Then it was “lumpy” as the sailors described it on the other side. While on watch, knowing we weren’t alone in that big stretch of water was consoling. Once you are in the middle, you are committed and you have just got to get through it. Boat traffic was light southbound. There were several boats on the east side heading north. They had the wind on their nose while we had it at our back. We were able enjoy a nice sail for two of the four hours it took to reach our destination, Silva Bay on Gabriola Island. It has changed a lot since my stop here last June with my Cruise and Learn adventure and not necessarily for the better.
The best part of the stay was having good company. We knew the skippers of four boats, one of which are members of our yacht club, Buzz and Tish of ‘Prime Meridian’. I love Pat’s company, nevertheless, having the opportunity to share dinnertime with two couples at the café at the top of the dock was wonderful. Swapping stories of anchoring, favorite places to go and a view overlooking Silva Bay will be remembered warmheartedly.
The wind was blowing around 20 mph this morning and we opted to remain at the dock. Everyone else was heading for Telegraph Harbor. I think their goal was to test a banana split that Lee talked about last night; so large that it is more than two can manage! We are going to head over to Chemainus Bay tomorrow. It sounds like there are lots of interesting shops with exterior walls painted with murals and places to tease the sweet tooth .The best feature- good grocery store at the top of the ramp; looking at limp fruits, vegetables, and frozen meat has discouraged my desire to stockpile my pantry. I appreciate the dilemma store owners have in keeping fresh inventory while working with weekly deliveries. It makes one appreciate how spoiled and demanding ‘city slickers’ are when we return to more rustic settings. I do value the efficient refrigerator/freeze and the storage within Liberte’. Next year will be easier with what I have learned this year.
As for recommendations: Pat and I went for a walk after our friends left and checked out the other moorage available at Page’s Marina in Silva Bay. This is where we will stop next year. It is clean, quiet and smaller, our preference. Their laundry and shower facilities are much cleaner and they offer a nice bookstore featuring local authors from the islands. There is a large field of grass, picnic tables and set back from the marina there are cabins to rent. The facilities here at Silva Bay are soiled compared to the standards of what we have used throughout our trip. The employees are less friendly than any other marina; this place would be at the bottom of our rating.
Well it is time to go stretch our legs again and walk over in the other direction and sample another flavor of ice cream on a cone. Life is good, especially when one has a companion that offers me the best opportunities to experience and share things we both appreciate.
Crossing the Straits of Georgia yesterday morning with ‘Nirvana’ close by was OK. Who would complain with heaven by their side? . We left Secret Cove by 7 AM with our new friends from Port Townsend, Shelley and Gaylon, ‘Nirvana’s’ skippers. The water was not bad until we had gone about one quarter of the way. Then it was “lumpy” as the sailors described it on the other side. While on watch, knowing we weren’t alone in that big stretch of water was consoling. Once you are in the middle, you are committed and you have just got to get through it. Boat traffic was light southbound. There were several boats on the east side heading north. They had the wind on their nose while we had it at our back. We were able enjoy a nice sail for two of the four hours it took to reach our destination, Silva Bay on Gabriola Island. It has changed a lot since my stop here last June with my Cruise and Learn adventure and not necessarily for the better.
The best part of the stay was having good company. We knew the skippers of four boats, one of which are members of our yacht club, Buzz and Tish of ‘Prime Meridian’. I love Pat’s company, nevertheless, having the opportunity to share dinnertime with two couples at the café at the top of the dock was wonderful. Swapping stories of anchoring, favorite places to go and a view overlooking Silva Bay will be remembered warmheartedly.
The wind was blowing around 20 mph this morning and we opted to remain at the dock. Everyone else was heading for Telegraph Harbor. I think their goal was to test a banana split that Lee talked about last night; so large that it is more than two can manage! We are going to head over to Chemainus Bay tomorrow. It sounds like there are lots of interesting shops with exterior walls painted with murals and places to tease the sweet tooth .The best feature- good grocery store at the top of the ramp; looking at limp fruits, vegetables, and frozen meat has discouraged my desire to stockpile my pantry. I appreciate the dilemma store owners have in keeping fresh inventory while working with weekly deliveries. It makes one appreciate how spoiled and demanding ‘city slickers’ are when we return to more rustic settings. I do value the efficient refrigerator/freeze and the storage within Liberte’. Next year will be easier with what I have learned this year.
As for recommendations: Pat and I went for a walk after our friends left and checked out the other moorage available at Page’s Marina in Silva Bay. This is where we will stop next year. It is clean, quiet and smaller, our preference. Their laundry and shower facilities are much cleaner and they offer a nice bookstore featuring local authors from the islands. There is a large field of grass, picnic tables and set back from the marina there are cabins to rent. The facilities here at Silva Bay are soiled compared to the standards of what we have used throughout our trip. The employees are less friendly than any other marina; this place would be at the bottom of our rating.
Well it is time to go stretch our legs again and walk over in the other direction and sample another flavor of ice cream on a cone. Life is good, especially when one has a companion that offers me the best opportunities to experience and share things we both appreciate.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Addendum - Not mentioned, but not forgotten
In my last entry I did not make reference to the joy we had in having Buzz and Tish Greenman, with their friend Lee “stop by” for a visit. They are members of Three Tree Point Yacht Club and it was a pleasant surprise to know fellow cruisers from home. We had hoped to drop in on 'Prime Meridian' after our hike to Von Donolop Inlet. As I mentioned earlier, the hike was more challenging and took longer than we wanted to reach the other side. Being more aware of our bodies disdain towards heat, we heeded the message sent to us. We returned to Liberte' to cool down, and then clean up, planning on rowing over to their boats.
Accidents; they are unplanned occurrences that impede on previous well thought out plans.
Pat slipped and fell down the stairs to the floor of the cabin. He had wet feet due to me having doused the cockpit down after cleaning the shrimp. He did knock the wind out of himself and now is artistically decorated with colors of the rainbow. Thankfully he broke no bones or ribs and is just aching from the fall. Recovery was the order of the night and we left before 7 AM, thus never were able to reciprocate the gesture of camaraderie. With any luck together, we will drop anchor at some other cove within these next three weeks; toasting good friends and healthy bodies!
Accidents; they are unplanned occurrences that impede on previous well thought out plans.
Pat slipped and fell down the stairs to the floor of the cabin. He had wet feet due to me having doused the cockpit down after cleaning the shrimp. He did knock the wind out of himself and now is artistically decorated with colors of the rainbow. Thankfully he broke no bones or ribs and is just aching from the fall. Recovery was the order of the night and we left before 7 AM, thus never were able to reciprocate the gesture of camaraderie. With any luck together, we will drop anchor at some other cove within these next three weeks; toasting good friends and healthy bodies!
Almost ready, but not quite. . .
July 14, 2008 Secret Cove, BC
Since we were at the turning point, heading south, composing has been more difficult. Is it that I am getting excited to return to Des Moines, I believe this is true. I have enjoyed this journey more than anticipated. Two months of living on a boat is a good amount of time without going lazy or indifferent to the world. I miss knowing what is going on in politics, my community, my family and friends. And yet there is so much to say about places that are called “Pirates Cove” and “Secret Cove” that allow thoughts of smugglers and pirates lurking in the maze of islands and islets. The historian in me loves the places named after early navigators. So often we were a solitary boat in the waterways and at those times I would try to put myself as them seeing this place and recording it so others would want to see it for themselves. A big difference is that I had a knowledgeable captain, a boat with all the modern conveniences for comfort, navigation and propulsion. Large wooden sailing vessels, or the smaller boats, manned with many sets of oars would take tenacity and endurance. This country has its own lure, with a sense of natural beauty and lots of solitude. I look forward to actively help with the planning before we return next year. It has been a good trip and it is not over, so I should not jump to the end – rather appreciate the present.
Yesterday while standing at the checkout counter here in Secret Cove, a basket of red ripe tomatoes jumped out at me. I got so excited, that I grabbed a large bunch; you would have thought they were a large bouquet of fresh cut flowers from my garden! I look over at them, sitting on the counter, their skin is shiny and reflects the light, and the stems are contrasting with healthy green. I intend on slicing them for our Greek lamb pizza tonight’s dinner. The dough is rising, and looking at them, I have mixed feelings. I would love to pick one up, and eat it, enjoying the flavor, and the juice running down my arms. Or do I keep them on the counter and use them as surrogate flower arrangement? Perhaps I should go and buy some more before the store closes so I can do a little of everything. Going to a supermarket with choices of F R E S H produce, that lasts more than one day, (should you take the chance it will last), is not easy to find the further north one travels. Long ago I made the choice to cook with fresh rather than canned or prepared goods. Not as easy to do when you travel for two months to paths less traveled.
July 13, 2008 Southbound for three weeks . . .
And then we will be home a gain! It has been a great adventure reaching as far north as Squirrel Cove. I do believe it was the best place for anchorage for several evenings because there were lots of things to do off the boat; kayaking within the cove or heading out and down to the community store, hiking over to Von Donolop Inlet, or running the lagoon rapids. Hundreds of boats would have no problem anchoring within here, although some would have to stern tie to accommodate that many.
The two days we stayed here, each day the brilliant sun began high, white contrails that shifted and spread against the washed-out blue sky, an occasional wind picked up and set ripple patterns across a mill pond. The evenings ended with the moon waxing; the air so clear that Mother Moon could almost be seen as winking back at us, her moonlight so bright the stars were hidden. A stargazer must be patient and wait for the early morning hours to put on their sparkling show. Both nights I opened the companionway and stood atop the stairs, to hear the silence, feel the gentle fresh air of the hour and gaze up at all the stars, many as bright as the masthead lights glowing, singularly, or in pairs where friends rafted together. The water, so still, reflected everything back. As I write this, I wonder why I just didn’t take my comforter up into the cockpit and watch the new day evolve from perfection.
A majority of cruisers use the "Waggoner Cruiser Guide" as a wise companion for accurate guidance in selecting a good safe harbor in storms, places for fuel, hiking and eating. Should anyone reading this go to Squirrel Cove, please be advised that the hike to Von Donolop Inlet is not for those intending an easy hike. They said there was windfall at the entrance, but after that it was clear. Not true. Recent windfall was a constant and after an hour of scrambling under and over, getting very hot and sticky, elected to stop and head back. We heard from someone else that they did the same, so we didn’t feel like real losers. After re-hydrating with a water then beer we had the most wonderful dinner of our trip, second to the dinner at "The Alchemist" in Westview. A generous gift of fresh oysters and shrimp were given to us by Judy and Wayne. The oysters were sweet, no hint of iodine, their juice ran rosy, and reminding me of cider made at apple pressing in late fall. The shrimp were also perfection. Having the dining out in the cockpit is made simply for clean up, just splash a bucket of sea water and it was complete.
July 11, 2008 Squirrel Cove, Cortez Island
The wind died to complete calm last evening; guaranteeing a sound sleep last night and an easy passage in the morning. Our short passage over to Squirrel Cove went much too quickly. An urge to turn northward, towards what appeared to be a narrow passage into a new maze of islands – tempting us onward to the Broughtons. Ah, next year I promise.
The community of Squirrel Cove is visible as soon as one exits Refuge Cove. Soft sloping acreage hosts homes, an Indian community church painted classic white with the large cross atop the steeple are set to the right of the public dock, leading up to the Squirrel Cove Trading Company. A large stretch of sandy beaches stand out for few have been seen throughout our passage, and for me, it simply said, “Welcome.” The rocky cliffs along the way have looked formidable, and difficult to secure sure footing if one was so inclined. They are awesome to view as landscape or scenery; and state that the island is fit for the hardy and reclusive souls.
At the moment, the night song of the loons has pulled me away from writing. Their calling is beautiful and yet haunting and I’ve always enjoyed listening to it. I searched to locate them but they are on the distant shore or behind the small island near our anchorage. It is 10 PM, the still water is reflecting the light of a waxing half moon and the masthead lights of the many anchored throughout the cove. This is the largest setting that Pat has taken me to with many more options to keep us busy by day.
This afternoon we took our kayaks out for a couple hours to explore the back half. There a couple little islands, lots of coves within the cove, a mini-rapids which leads from a lagoon, (We have heard and read of people taking their kayaks and shooting through at just the right point of the tide change.) The once famous bakery is vacant and looks as if it has missed a couple seasons; the floats are listing slightly, the landing dock looks precarious to stand upon and a small padlock is on the door. Back and beyond this what looks like an island. We thought we could circumnavigate, and as we coming to a deadend, noticed a unique outhouse. Someone decided that using pipe was a better option than digging a hole into solid rock was the way to go.
Since we were at the turning point, heading south, composing has been more difficult. Is it that I am getting excited to return to Des Moines, I believe this is true. I have enjoyed this journey more than anticipated. Two months of living on a boat is a good amount of time without going lazy or indifferent to the world. I miss knowing what is going on in politics, my community, my family and friends. And yet there is so much to say about places that are called “Pirates Cove” and “Secret Cove” that allow thoughts of smugglers and pirates lurking in the maze of islands and islets. The historian in me loves the places named after early navigators. So often we were a solitary boat in the waterways and at those times I would try to put myself as them seeing this place and recording it so others would want to see it for themselves. A big difference is that I had a knowledgeable captain, a boat with all the modern conveniences for comfort, navigation and propulsion. Large wooden sailing vessels, or the smaller boats, manned with many sets of oars would take tenacity and endurance. This country has its own lure, with a sense of natural beauty and lots of solitude. I look forward to actively help with the planning before we return next year. It has been a good trip and it is not over, so I should not jump to the end – rather appreciate the present.
Yesterday while standing at the checkout counter here in Secret Cove, a basket of red ripe tomatoes jumped out at me. I got so excited, that I grabbed a large bunch; you would have thought they were a large bouquet of fresh cut flowers from my garden! I look over at them, sitting on the counter, their skin is shiny and reflects the light, and the stems are contrasting with healthy green. I intend on slicing them for our Greek lamb pizza tonight’s dinner. The dough is rising, and looking at them, I have mixed feelings. I would love to pick one up, and eat it, enjoying the flavor, and the juice running down my arms. Or do I keep them on the counter and use them as surrogate flower arrangement? Perhaps I should go and buy some more before the store closes so I can do a little of everything. Going to a supermarket with choices of F R E S H produce, that lasts more than one day, (should you take the chance it will last), is not easy to find the further north one travels. Long ago I made the choice to cook with fresh rather than canned or prepared goods. Not as easy to do when you travel for two months to paths less traveled.
July 13, 2008 Southbound for three weeks . . .
And then we will be home a gain! It has been a great adventure reaching as far north as Squirrel Cove. I do believe it was the best place for anchorage for several evenings because there were lots of things to do off the boat; kayaking within the cove or heading out and down to the community store, hiking over to Von Donolop Inlet, or running the lagoon rapids. Hundreds of boats would have no problem anchoring within here, although some would have to stern tie to accommodate that many.
The two days we stayed here, each day the brilliant sun began high, white contrails that shifted and spread against the washed-out blue sky, an occasional wind picked up and set ripple patterns across a mill pond. The evenings ended with the moon waxing; the air so clear that Mother Moon could almost be seen as winking back at us, her moonlight so bright the stars were hidden. A stargazer must be patient and wait for the early morning hours to put on their sparkling show. Both nights I opened the companionway and stood atop the stairs, to hear the silence, feel the gentle fresh air of the hour and gaze up at all the stars, many as bright as the masthead lights glowing, singularly, or in pairs where friends rafted together. The water, so still, reflected everything back. As I write this, I wonder why I just didn’t take my comforter up into the cockpit and watch the new day evolve from perfection.
A majority of cruisers use the "Waggoner Cruiser Guide" as a wise companion for accurate guidance in selecting a good safe harbor in storms, places for fuel, hiking and eating. Should anyone reading this go to Squirrel Cove, please be advised that the hike to Von Donolop Inlet is not for those intending an easy hike. They said there was windfall at the entrance, but after that it was clear. Not true. Recent windfall was a constant and after an hour of scrambling under and over, getting very hot and sticky, elected to stop and head back. We heard from someone else that they did the same, so we didn’t feel like real losers. After re-hydrating with a water then beer we had the most wonderful dinner of our trip, second to the dinner at "The Alchemist" in Westview. A generous gift of fresh oysters and shrimp were given to us by Judy and Wayne. The oysters were sweet, no hint of iodine, their juice ran rosy, and reminding me of cider made at apple pressing in late fall. The shrimp were also perfection. Having the dining out in the cockpit is made simply for clean up, just splash a bucket of sea water and it was complete.
July 11, 2008 Squirrel Cove, Cortez Island
The wind died to complete calm last evening; guaranteeing a sound sleep last night and an easy passage in the morning. Our short passage over to Squirrel Cove went much too quickly. An urge to turn northward, towards what appeared to be a narrow passage into a new maze of islands – tempting us onward to the Broughtons. Ah, next year I promise.
The community of Squirrel Cove is visible as soon as one exits Refuge Cove. Soft sloping acreage hosts homes, an Indian community church painted classic white with the large cross atop the steeple are set to the right of the public dock, leading up to the Squirrel Cove Trading Company. A large stretch of sandy beaches stand out for few have been seen throughout our passage, and for me, it simply said, “Welcome.” The rocky cliffs along the way have looked formidable, and difficult to secure sure footing if one was so inclined. They are awesome to view as landscape or scenery; and state that the island is fit for the hardy and reclusive souls.
At the moment, the night song of the loons has pulled me away from writing. Their calling is beautiful and yet haunting and I’ve always enjoyed listening to it. I searched to locate them but they are on the distant shore or behind the small island near our anchorage. It is 10 PM, the still water is reflecting the light of a waxing half moon and the masthead lights of the many anchored throughout the cove. This is the largest setting that Pat has taken me to with many more options to keep us busy by day.
This afternoon we took our kayaks out for a couple hours to explore the back half. There a couple little islands, lots of coves within the cove, a mini-rapids which leads from a lagoon, (We have heard and read of people taking their kayaks and shooting through at just the right point of the tide change.) The once famous bakery is vacant and looks as if it has missed a couple seasons; the floats are listing slightly, the landing dock looks precarious to stand upon and a small padlock is on the door. Back and beyond this what looks like an island. We thought we could circumnavigate, and as we coming to a deadend, noticed a unique outhouse. Someone decided that using pipe was a better option than digging a hole into solid rock was the way to go.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
6 Degrees of Separation
July 10, 2008 Here we are in Refuge Cove, Cortez Island and John Thompson and his family, (Pat Stewart’s nemesis when racing their Cal 33’, Teaser, and raced against Pat in NOOD), Margaret-neighbor of the Heiders on Steel Lake, (my youngest daughter’s best friend’s family) are tied up to the same dock. This is not the first time we have seen someone from our past, nor do I suspect, is it the last occurrence before tying up in Des Moines. With the way the wind is continuing to blow, we may have the opportunity to visit throughout the day. Making passage over to Squirrel Cove isn’t necessarily the concern, simply getting away from the dock is not an option. Looking out the window I have seen only one large trawler venture out. People are walking down to the end of the mooring dock and looking out to the open sea. It is pure action - white is the predominate color.
Refuge Cove is a delightful, place to “park” ourselves. There are no new buildings and paint is an accent or after-thought throughout the cove. From our reading the history, the buildings are of the 1940’s vintage, or earlier. The shades of wood – untouched by a coat of paint or stain range from deep raw umber to pale shades of grey. A row of bright red geranium in a planter box up on the bookstore is cheerful as the stand out in contrast to the surrounding. Hanging planters, filled with fuchsia New Guinea impatiens swing brightly at the general store/post office covered walkway. Parked across from us is a refuge of the past, a houseboat with lots of history under it’s heavy moss cedar shingled roof. A ladder is permanently attached to the roof, and by the looks of the small metal chimney stack, is there for stack fires. Weeds have taken up permanent rooting on the side heaviest with moss. A well used yellow electrical extension cord serpentines its way into the bathroom window. The screen door, not quite square or aligned to the imperfect lines of the house, swings open and closed with the rhythm of the dock movement and the wind. The owner loves and is hopeful for fresh herbs; neat rows of four inch pots are lined on the two window sills. Two large black plastic containers host annuals that are promising bursts of yellow to brighten the once red stained shingled siding. An irregular hole just under the peak of the roof is covered with a plastic material of unknown previous use. The loft’s window has a red, blue and white striped sheet suspended with what looks like cast off clothes in the corner, not allowing it to hang straight. What we assume is a bathroom of sorts, is a remodel effort. Clear corrugated plastic creates a roof with new shingle siding is in the process of being nailed up. This definitely is lodging for summertime. Or it would take a very stout individual to live out the winter' harsh weather in what appears to be single wall construction.
Pat has been taking me on a sampler cruise; favorite places of his from past cruises with his friends aboard French Silk. It is unanimous that Roscoe Cove is a favorite for both of us. It is large enough to accommodate many boats and not have to stern tie, simply anchor. We can’t say enough of how wonderful it is to use the windlass for our anchoring. Hooray for modern technology and conveniences. There are two fresh water streams that enter the cove. The larger one is fed by Black Lake.
Black Lake is accessible by a short hike on an easy trail. Wearing my swimsuit over on our first visit to the lake, I had a great dip. It was very pleasant. On our second day, we decided that walking the kayaks over would be easy and a great way to explore the lake extensive shoreline. We never did get to the end, after a couple of hours of easy paddling. A bright blue something caught my eye and mentally was thinking that what a shame to have someone’s plastic bag be strewn casually out and destroy the effect of land and lake, untouched by humans. As we discussed this bit of garbage as we approached to inspect, a hand shot up and began waving. Then a man’s head popped up and looked towards us. We laughed and directed our kayaks out and away from the couple thought private and undisturbed beach. Looking back after giving them some distance, we noted that they reached their destination via a small inflatable boat. So yes, getting your small tender or kayak is a great way to see the lake. The lake’s environment was obviously favorable to the trees and shrubs on the distant shoreline. Everything looked healthier, deeper shades of green, less death of trees and branches. The side that you can reach from the trail, the shades of moss and grass were that of spoke of the end of summer and many more trees were dead, wedged upright position by neighboring trees or fallen over in varying angles. Our guess is that the winds must play havoc and create this disparity.
Our stay in Roscoe Bay was enriched with new friends, Jay and Anita of Nanaimo. Jay, a retired music teacher played his Martin traveling guitar while Anita accompanied with her singing. We had two evenings of great conversations and promises to meet next year at Roscoe Bay or some other special bay in Desolation Sound. We extended an open house to them should they come to Seattle. They treated us to a wonderful pie made of salmon berries, small blackberries and huckleberries they picked from shore on the second evening.
Refuge Cove is a delightful, place to “park” ourselves. There are no new buildings and paint is an accent or after-thought throughout the cove. From our reading the history, the buildings are of the 1940’s vintage, or earlier. The shades of wood – untouched by a coat of paint or stain range from deep raw umber to pale shades of grey. A row of bright red geranium in a planter box up on the bookstore is cheerful as the stand out in contrast to the surrounding. Hanging planters, filled with fuchsia New Guinea impatiens swing brightly at the general store/post office covered walkway. Parked across from us is a refuge of the past, a houseboat with lots of history under it’s heavy moss cedar shingled roof. A ladder is permanently attached to the roof, and by the looks of the small metal chimney stack, is there for stack fires. Weeds have taken up permanent rooting on the side heaviest with moss. A well used yellow electrical extension cord serpentines its way into the bathroom window. The screen door, not quite square or aligned to the imperfect lines of the house, swings open and closed with the rhythm of the dock movement and the wind. The owner loves and is hopeful for fresh herbs; neat rows of four inch pots are lined on the two window sills. Two large black plastic containers host annuals that are promising bursts of yellow to brighten the once red stained shingled siding. An irregular hole just under the peak of the roof is covered with a plastic material of unknown previous use. The loft’s window has a red, blue and white striped sheet suspended with what looks like cast off clothes in the corner, not allowing it to hang straight. What we assume is a bathroom of sorts, is a remodel effort. Clear corrugated plastic creates a roof with new shingle siding is in the process of being nailed up. This definitely is lodging for summertime. Or it would take a very stout individual to live out the winter' harsh weather in what appears to be single wall construction.
Pat has been taking me on a sampler cruise; favorite places of his from past cruises with his friends aboard French Silk. It is unanimous that Roscoe Cove is a favorite for both of us. It is large enough to accommodate many boats and not have to stern tie, simply anchor. We can’t say enough of how wonderful it is to use the windlass for our anchoring. Hooray for modern technology and conveniences. There are two fresh water streams that enter the cove. The larger one is fed by Black Lake.
Black Lake is accessible by a short hike on an easy trail. Wearing my swimsuit over on our first visit to the lake, I had a great dip. It was very pleasant. On our second day, we decided that walking the kayaks over would be easy and a great way to explore the lake extensive shoreline. We never did get to the end, after a couple of hours of easy paddling. A bright blue something caught my eye and mentally was thinking that what a shame to have someone’s plastic bag be strewn casually out and destroy the effect of land and lake, untouched by humans. As we discussed this bit of garbage as we approached to inspect, a hand shot up and began waving. Then a man’s head popped up and looked towards us. We laughed and directed our kayaks out and away from the couple thought private and undisturbed beach. Looking back after giving them some distance, we noted that they reached their destination via a small inflatable boat. So yes, getting your small tender or kayak is a great way to see the lake. The lake’s environment was obviously favorable to the trees and shrubs on the distant shoreline. Everything looked healthier, deeper shades of green, less death of trees and branches. The side that you can reach from the trail, the shades of moss and grass were that of spoke of the end of summer and many more trees were dead, wedged upright position by neighboring trees or fallen over in varying angles. Our guess is that the winds must play havoc and create this disparity.
Our stay in Roscoe Bay was enriched with new friends, Jay and Anita of Nanaimo. Jay, a retired music teacher played his Martin traveling guitar while Anita accompanied with her singing. We had two evenings of great conversations and promises to meet next year at Roscoe Bay or some other special bay in Desolation Sound. We extended an open house to them should they come to Seattle. They treated us to a wonderful pie made of salmon berries, small blackberries and huckleberries they picked from shore on the second evening.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Thoughts from Desolation Sound
July 7, 2008 Day Spa
When or how I began and ended my days with, “What will I do and/or what have I accomplished today?” I don’t honestly know. Today I am aware and questioning the compulsion to set goals has been a driving force in my life. It may, at times, have inhibited the freedom or natural ability to seize the moment and simply “just be”. Responsibility is a good virtue to own but to acknowledge and accept the responsibility to be good/reward oneself is important. And, when asked what a favorite memory is, the answer would honestly be: treasured moments of “playing” with my daughters or in my garden. Today is my little spa day!
In the past when asked what would be a perfect day for me I would answer with: a warm sunny day on a sandy beach, waves breaking in the background against the shore, a good book, and a long beach towel to stretch out on. The book, although the intentions would be to read, really was a pretext to look as if I was going to read. The warm sandy beach is great to push and scrunch around to take my body’s form as well as radiate stored heat , and the towel is simply practical to keep the sand off and out of me. Just moments ago, while lying on the bow of Liberte’ I realized I had just bettered this. The sounds of waves are below me as the water gently caresses the hull, my sound of music is much improved with robins and other songbirds in the forests compared to the cacophony of seagulls. My masseuse is the sun as he kneads his sunrays’ warmth across my shoulders and deep into my bones. I have a pillow to soften my contact with the deck of Liberte’, thus there are no sand fleas irritating my skin. The gentle breeze cools my skin’s surface which prevents overheating and causes me to shorten my time to a perfect time-out. I am learning to really enjoy this new habit of ‘time-out’. Should it be every day, then perhaps it would not be the gift it is. The fact I am aware and appreciate today is good. Pat and I do have many bounties as a married couple. Slowly I am beginning to fully acknowledge and appreciate more and more these gifts as time passes. This year, with our three big trips, indicates we definitely are utilizing the gift of time to enjoy one another.
We took our leave from Melanie Cove by 7:30 AM this morning and headed over to Roscoe Cove. There are two windows, each at high tide that allows sailboats to enter the inner cove. In my lesson this morning, Pat explained and showed me using the Ports and Passes, how he figures out our grace period so that leaving will not be a problem with our seven foot keel. Making passage at an incoming tide allows for a better chance; should you round aground, the incoming water will lift you off sooner than later. Pretty important stuff to know!
Anchoring here was easy. Actually, it has been easy everywhere due to Pat’s experience and the powered windlass. More fascinating has been watching the behavior of a boat once the anchor is set. Being the neophyte, I am certain drives Pat a little crazy as I bring to his attention we might be getting ‘too close’. In Melanie Cove the conflict/action of the wind, current and tide all had our boat moving over quite a large area. Pat chose to have a 6:1 scope. The difference between high and low tide was 12-15 feet so Liberte’ took the opportunity to spread her wings at times. After three uneventful nights it is now making more sense to me.
We took our kayaks ashore so that we could take the short walk over to Black Lake. I wore my swimsuit and flip-flops with the intention of taking a dip in fresh water. It was cool, but not cold and felt very refreshing. Before returning to our ‘home’ we paddled all around the entire perimeter of the cove, exploring the shoreline. The tree line comes down to the water’s edge predominately. This leaves only a couple places to go ashore. A small set of mini-waterfalls trickle down a rocky cliff near the entrance. Just across from our mooring I can hear a small stream run to meet the saltwater. At the end of the cove is a larger stream that is fed by Black Lake. At the mouth are large beds of oysters clinging to the sides of the hills or in colonies of their own. Clear, non-stinging jellyfish waved and danced along the bottom. An innumerable amount of small to minute clam shells, all empty occupied the shoreline. Why they are empty I do not know. We have seen a few ducks and an occasional seagull but no other predators such as otters or raccoons have been seen.
Tomorrow we intend on carrying our kayaks over to Black Lake and explore the lake’s shoreline and perhaps the island towards the opposite end. Tonight we will host new friends, Jak and Anita, from Nanaimo, BC over for ‘happy hour’. Jak is a retired music teacher and will bring his guitar over to share his love of music.
July 6, 2008 Prideaux Haven - Melanie Cove
We awoke to stillness, only broken by the sounds of songbirds hidden deep within the forest surrounding Melanie Cove, greeting the new day. Looking above and out of the V-berth hatch window, the sky was pale blue. The water was still for there were no sounds coming from our hull. Even the minto quietly sat tied snug to the backstay. It takes less for her sides to react, or ‘slap’ In a rolling fashion from side to side, against a change in the current, tide or waves due to wind. For as much time as I have spent, five weeks, discerning which way the boat is swinging while at anchor or on a buoy, still baffles me. When sitting out in the cabin, looking out the narrow slits of window, helps because I can see the tree line move forward, or backward. On a couple days when the weather was creating sloppy seas, or a large power boat with disregard to no wake zones, unless I really focus, there is little or no sensation of movement. Liberte’ must sit well or I’ve a good set of sea-legs!
We haven’t had a ‘busy’ day for so long; one that had us up before 6 AM and pulling our anchorage to make for a destination or working the tides in our favor that I feel a little embarrassed to think I’m getting lazy! In doing the busy work of housekeeping or preparing a meal, there is something to show for the little time spent. The days while moored we have the decision to read a book, cast a few stitches on a sweater is nearing completion, kayaking or rowing to shore for a hike are pretty much the extent of the day. Pat has the goal of waxing the surface of the deck before we return. Another highlight is to sit in the cockpit at twilight and watch the sky transition from light to darkness. This can take some time with the longer daylight hours of summer. We haven’t watched the night sky fill with stars due to cloud coverage or being at dockside on clear nights. Pat and I should come back well rested with two months of a restful state.
We did take our kayaks out for what was our longest outing this morning. We navigated in and out of the majority of the coves and bays here in Prideaux Haven. The tide was outgoing but not in a hurry thus there were no issues of the direction we would choose. Two seagulls talked uncontrollably as we slide by. With the stillness of the cove, the sound echoed, multiplying it by ten-fold. The entire time out, it was quite noticeable that fish appear to be missing. The contiguous walls that make this an island and the rock shoals projecting themselves in precarious locations for boaters are rich with oysters. Signs are posted throughout the park and in most of the cruising guides that they are not to be picked, they are unsafe for consumption. We found one knowledgeable sailor who had continued on and beyond the common bay for anchoring and found a cove “just right for one” good size sailboat. My suspicion is that entering and exiting is only done with the highest of tides.
Last night we rowed the minto to the end of the bay, with the goal of locating Mike’s cabin. The tide shift had been around 12-15 feet if I have it right, so planning where to tying the painter after bringing the boat in over the mucky, rocky and heavy with oysters beach was a big ordeal. It was beginning noticeably migrate in. The trail head was hidden under heavy evergreen boughs and looked easy. The undergrowth was dense as the canopy above. Deer fern, sword fern, salal, nurse logs with moss five inches thick were the most recognizable to me. The evening sunlight filtered through in sections, creating a spotlight effect in some areas. We saw no evidence of Mike living here – no apple trees – nothing other than a verdant forest. After about fifteen minutes of tripping over large roots that dominated parts of the good trail, or working to avoid walking through muddy patches we decided to return to our minto and save hiking for another day. In wading to retrieve the boat and keep her from scraping against the oyster beds, I discovered how warm the water is here– it felt as a lake by the end of summer to me.
What little we have passed through here in Desolation Sound, I do believe that this is part of the beauty, the uniqueness of the area that draws many to return; so many private and magical places to discover and yet protected from the winds that can blow.
Tomorrow Roscoe Bay so we have to be up and out by 9 AM to get over the drying shoal that divides the inner and outer coves. I look forward to going there, a favorite place of Pat. From what I read, there is a lake to swim in, and trails to hike. I’ll let you know what we find. Now back to the very quiet serenity in my backyard.
July 5, 2008 Are you sitting comfortably; letting Merlin cast his spell?
The Moody Blues are singing this melody, as we lie at anchor in Melanie Cove, Desolation Sound; the clouds are approaching closer to the top of the mast rather than dispersing as we hoped would happen as the day progressed. The original plan was to row to the end of the cove and hike about, exploring the remains of Mike’s cabin, his apple orchard and tumbling rock walls surrounding what was a garden. The day may offer this opportunity later in the afternoon – or not. Both Pat and I are very content today. Mother Nature is flip-flopping with rain showers and has made it easy to sit back in the shelter of our floating home. My other ambitions were to clean the cabin, complete a front to a sweater I’m knitting and start the sleeves and make this journal entry. Later, prepare Pat a rib roast dinner.
I love what I have seen of the Desolation Sound and am in no hurry to move on. There was a serenity that encompassed me once we passed the entrance to the Desolation Sound. In fact, while I write this, I’m questioning myself why didn’t we get here earlier? In one of the many readings Pat has provided me on the region, it stated that Princess Louisa Inlet made believers of non-believers; for me Desolation Sound is living proof that there is a Higher Power with infinite powers of creating beauty that is hard to match. Even with the winds blowing with erratic irregularity, I have a sense of security and tranquility. Combine this with Pat’s company and being aboard Liberte’, this is a safe haven. I don’t want to leave, or rush the moment. I am thinking about whom I am, where I’ve been and where I want to go. It will be here that goals will be revisited and re-evaluated. I prefer to believe that life is an evolution; a continuous learning process that allows mistakes, (only learning to recognize and acknowledge them), and emerging with stronger character, less character defects. Reaching this point on the charts, not maps, reconfirms that the quiet setting of outdoors, smaller towns rather than busy cities is my preference. Enough! You are here to read about my thoughts and observations about the past few days.
Westview: I appreciated the comfort and the flavor of this town. It is geared for the many transients, cruisers going and returning from the waterways north and they make you feel welcome. Some of the amenities included are: marine store, Laundromat, bowling alley, several bookstores and day spas, gift and clothing shops, even a quilt shop, liquor and within a mile the major shopping center with two grocery stores, Wal-Mart, drugstore, Canadian Tires and Starbucks! There are many eateries ranging from pizza, Greek, Thai, Mexican, a free internet bakery and our favorite – The Alchemist, a French restaurant with a touch of Tuscany.
We treated ourselves to an exquisite meal that went from touching our sense of taste, eye appeal with food presentation to the ambiance of the dining room, and a personable and extremely talented owner/chef - Francoise. He and his wife, also an exceptional cook, opened exactly a year ago. They took an old house and renovated the interior: large Mediterranean tiles on the floor, soft textured walls of yellow, few paintings and prints hung the wall , and the warmth of mahogany chairs surrounding tables simplistically set with cloth runners and crisp white linen napkins that spoke volumes of the care to details. Every dish brought to our table or to neighboring diners demonstrated a passion of the owners. Nothing was haphazardly set on a dish. Francoise, and his wife are the owners/chefs, walked around the dining room introduced himself, asking how we enjoyed the meal. Pat choice had been the lamb – a shank combined with 2-3 standing ribs, accented with a sauce, both cooked to perfection in texture and flavor. The side of Yukon gold potatoes and roasted vegetables had him nearly licking the plate. My decision was to go with the chicken breast that had a variety of flavors entwined that never overwhelmed one another, rather compliment. It was served with polenta with a pleasant bite and the roasted vegetables; asparagus, beet, carrot and zucchini. The salad we began with was very fresh greens with light balsamic vinaigrette, a piece of thin crisp toast spread heavy with herb boursin cheese encouraged our appetites. Our dessert, profiteroles, was garnished with a gooseberry. The outer paper like skin had been sliced and peeled back and left to dry to look like tissue paper leaves. It had been chilled so when the diner bit into the fruit the cold distinct taste was a sensory delight. We offered him Seattle. Should he make the move we promised we would be there so frequent, we would have a table of our own! Our waitress, also French, was charming and Karen was the perfect hostess; graciously communicated between the diners and the cooks in the back with sparkling eyes, a genuine smile and attitude of making you feel at home and not a stranger. The Alchemist is a definite reason to revisit Westview, if not on our return then next year. We wish them well and continued success.
So what is it that makes Desolation Sound “heaven on earth”? Waterways made up of channels, coves, and bays of every size and contour, creating a maze, are outlined with islands, islets or rock/s of a variety of shoreline. Although few, sand – rocky beaches appear as welcome landing to the kayakers you see out here. Yesterday we did see one kayaker making several attempts before returning back into his boat out in the middle of Thulin Passage, the northern end of Copeland Islands. We slowed to offer assistance, but his companion was towing him to the beach at that point and waved all was well. Rocky cliffs of varying heights seem to be the rule. With all the little nooks and crannies, Pat said that a sailor has opportunities to find shelter as long as one studies the charts as to be advised to lay of the land below. Drying rocks, shoals that emerge during low tide could ruin the inattentive sailor should he rush in to pass over of lay anchor. Evergreen firs densely cover major sections of the islands which look as is they are made of volcanic, old rock. Some walls are sheer and smooth or stepped, making me consider paintings of Japan, while others are rounded and carved smoothed by centuries of current rushing by with a certainty of the water’s force. Layers upon layers of rolling hills and low mountains made me visualize watercolors. In the distance snow capped peaks are still visible.
We entered into Homfray Channel as the tide was going out which gave sight to thick patches of kelp and algae ranging from black to the multitude of shades green-ending with chartreuse. The artist within was enjoying every essence and beauty offered to four of the five senses; I simply had to leave the security of home. Sounds of seagulls above, songbirds onshore, the wind in the sail, and water pushing past our boat’s hull, the warm air to the touching our skin and feeling the roll of the waves below, the smell of the sea and sea life clinging to the drying rocks that is strong enough you can almost taste the mix of salt and iodine, and visually the excitement of discovering what is around the next bend or up on each island stirs the poet, the artist, an outdoorsman and the naturalist – that sums up a sailor in my estimation. I’m happy that I married one and grateful he is willing to share and teach me this way of life.
During the four hour journey under multiple methods of cruising to Melanie Cove, we were all but solitary sailors which gave the sense of discovery an added sense of awe and wonder. I believe that we could spend years meandering in and about so that we could become well versed on the region. I’m ready to pickup the books that tell of the history and describe the wildlife, flora and geography of Desolation Sound. Next time I will not resist when Pat says,” let’s go.” I’ll be ready and willing!
When or how I began and ended my days with, “What will I do and/or what have I accomplished today?” I don’t honestly know. Today I am aware and questioning the compulsion to set goals has been a driving force in my life. It may, at times, have inhibited the freedom or natural ability to seize the moment and simply “just be”. Responsibility is a good virtue to own but to acknowledge and accept the responsibility to be good/reward oneself is important. And, when asked what a favorite memory is, the answer would honestly be: treasured moments of “playing” with my daughters or in my garden. Today is my little spa day!
In the past when asked what would be a perfect day for me I would answer with: a warm sunny day on a sandy beach, waves breaking in the background against the shore, a good book, and a long beach towel to stretch out on. The book, although the intentions would be to read, really was a pretext to look as if I was going to read. The warm sandy beach is great to push and scrunch around to take my body’s form as well as radiate stored heat , and the towel is simply practical to keep the sand off and out of me. Just moments ago, while lying on the bow of Liberte’ I realized I had just bettered this. The sounds of waves are below me as the water gently caresses the hull, my sound of music is much improved with robins and other songbirds in the forests compared to the cacophony of seagulls. My masseuse is the sun as he kneads his sunrays’ warmth across my shoulders and deep into my bones. I have a pillow to soften my contact with the deck of Liberte’, thus there are no sand fleas irritating my skin. The gentle breeze cools my skin’s surface which prevents overheating and causes me to shorten my time to a perfect time-out. I am learning to really enjoy this new habit of ‘time-out’. Should it be every day, then perhaps it would not be the gift it is. The fact I am aware and appreciate today is good. Pat and I do have many bounties as a married couple. Slowly I am beginning to fully acknowledge and appreciate more and more these gifts as time passes. This year, with our three big trips, indicates we definitely are utilizing the gift of time to enjoy one another.
We took our leave from Melanie Cove by 7:30 AM this morning and headed over to Roscoe Cove. There are two windows, each at high tide that allows sailboats to enter the inner cove. In my lesson this morning, Pat explained and showed me using the Ports and Passes, how he figures out our grace period so that leaving will not be a problem with our seven foot keel. Making passage at an incoming tide allows for a better chance; should you round aground, the incoming water will lift you off sooner than later. Pretty important stuff to know!
Anchoring here was easy. Actually, it has been easy everywhere due to Pat’s experience and the powered windlass. More fascinating has been watching the behavior of a boat once the anchor is set. Being the neophyte, I am certain drives Pat a little crazy as I bring to his attention we might be getting ‘too close’. In Melanie Cove the conflict/action of the wind, current and tide all had our boat moving over quite a large area. Pat chose to have a 6:1 scope. The difference between high and low tide was 12-15 feet so Liberte’ took the opportunity to spread her wings at times. After three uneventful nights it is now making more sense to me.
We took our kayaks ashore so that we could take the short walk over to Black Lake. I wore my swimsuit and flip-flops with the intention of taking a dip in fresh water. It was cool, but not cold and felt very refreshing. Before returning to our ‘home’ we paddled all around the entire perimeter of the cove, exploring the shoreline. The tree line comes down to the water’s edge predominately. This leaves only a couple places to go ashore. A small set of mini-waterfalls trickle down a rocky cliff near the entrance. Just across from our mooring I can hear a small stream run to meet the saltwater. At the end of the cove is a larger stream that is fed by Black Lake. At the mouth are large beds of oysters clinging to the sides of the hills or in colonies of their own. Clear, non-stinging jellyfish waved and danced along the bottom. An innumerable amount of small to minute clam shells, all empty occupied the shoreline. Why they are empty I do not know. We have seen a few ducks and an occasional seagull but no other predators such as otters or raccoons have been seen.
Tomorrow we intend on carrying our kayaks over to Black Lake and explore the lake’s shoreline and perhaps the island towards the opposite end. Tonight we will host new friends, Jak and Anita, from Nanaimo, BC over for ‘happy hour’. Jak is a retired music teacher and will bring his guitar over to share his love of music.
July 6, 2008 Prideaux Haven - Melanie Cove
We awoke to stillness, only broken by the sounds of songbirds hidden deep within the forest surrounding Melanie Cove, greeting the new day. Looking above and out of the V-berth hatch window, the sky was pale blue. The water was still for there were no sounds coming from our hull. Even the minto quietly sat tied snug to the backstay. It takes less for her sides to react, or ‘slap’ In a rolling fashion from side to side, against a change in the current, tide or waves due to wind. For as much time as I have spent, five weeks, discerning which way the boat is swinging while at anchor or on a buoy, still baffles me. When sitting out in the cabin, looking out the narrow slits of window, helps because I can see the tree line move forward, or backward. On a couple days when the weather was creating sloppy seas, or a large power boat with disregard to no wake zones, unless I really focus, there is little or no sensation of movement. Liberte’ must sit well or I’ve a good set of sea-legs!
We haven’t had a ‘busy’ day for so long; one that had us up before 6 AM and pulling our anchorage to make for a destination or working the tides in our favor that I feel a little embarrassed to think I’m getting lazy! In doing the busy work of housekeeping or preparing a meal, there is something to show for the little time spent. The days while moored we have the decision to read a book, cast a few stitches on a sweater is nearing completion, kayaking or rowing to shore for a hike are pretty much the extent of the day. Pat has the goal of waxing the surface of the deck before we return. Another highlight is to sit in the cockpit at twilight and watch the sky transition from light to darkness. This can take some time with the longer daylight hours of summer. We haven’t watched the night sky fill with stars due to cloud coverage or being at dockside on clear nights. Pat and I should come back well rested with two months of a restful state.
We did take our kayaks out for what was our longest outing this morning. We navigated in and out of the majority of the coves and bays here in Prideaux Haven. The tide was outgoing but not in a hurry thus there were no issues of the direction we would choose. Two seagulls talked uncontrollably as we slide by. With the stillness of the cove, the sound echoed, multiplying it by ten-fold. The entire time out, it was quite noticeable that fish appear to be missing. The contiguous walls that make this an island and the rock shoals projecting themselves in precarious locations for boaters are rich with oysters. Signs are posted throughout the park and in most of the cruising guides that they are not to be picked, they are unsafe for consumption. We found one knowledgeable sailor who had continued on and beyond the common bay for anchoring and found a cove “just right for one” good size sailboat. My suspicion is that entering and exiting is only done with the highest of tides.
Last night we rowed the minto to the end of the bay, with the goal of locating Mike’s cabin. The tide shift had been around 12-15 feet if I have it right, so planning where to tying the painter after bringing the boat in over the mucky, rocky and heavy with oysters beach was a big ordeal. It was beginning noticeably migrate in. The trail head was hidden under heavy evergreen boughs and looked easy. The undergrowth was dense as the canopy above. Deer fern, sword fern, salal, nurse logs with moss five inches thick were the most recognizable to me. The evening sunlight filtered through in sections, creating a spotlight effect in some areas. We saw no evidence of Mike living here – no apple trees – nothing other than a verdant forest. After about fifteen minutes of tripping over large roots that dominated parts of the good trail, or working to avoid walking through muddy patches we decided to return to our minto and save hiking for another day. In wading to retrieve the boat and keep her from scraping against the oyster beds, I discovered how warm the water is here– it felt as a lake by the end of summer to me.
What little we have passed through here in Desolation Sound, I do believe that this is part of the beauty, the uniqueness of the area that draws many to return; so many private and magical places to discover and yet protected from the winds that can blow.
Tomorrow Roscoe Bay so we have to be up and out by 9 AM to get over the drying shoal that divides the inner and outer coves. I look forward to going there, a favorite place of Pat. From what I read, there is a lake to swim in, and trails to hike. I’ll let you know what we find. Now back to the very quiet serenity in my backyard.
July 5, 2008 Are you sitting comfortably; letting Merlin cast his spell?
The Moody Blues are singing this melody, as we lie at anchor in Melanie Cove, Desolation Sound; the clouds are approaching closer to the top of the mast rather than dispersing as we hoped would happen as the day progressed. The original plan was to row to the end of the cove and hike about, exploring the remains of Mike’s cabin, his apple orchard and tumbling rock walls surrounding what was a garden. The day may offer this opportunity later in the afternoon – or not. Both Pat and I are very content today. Mother Nature is flip-flopping with rain showers and has made it easy to sit back in the shelter of our floating home. My other ambitions were to clean the cabin, complete a front to a sweater I’m knitting and start the sleeves and make this journal entry. Later, prepare Pat a rib roast dinner.
I love what I have seen of the Desolation Sound and am in no hurry to move on. There was a serenity that encompassed me once we passed the entrance to the Desolation Sound. In fact, while I write this, I’m questioning myself why didn’t we get here earlier? In one of the many readings Pat has provided me on the region, it stated that Princess Louisa Inlet made believers of non-believers; for me Desolation Sound is living proof that there is a Higher Power with infinite powers of creating beauty that is hard to match. Even with the winds blowing with erratic irregularity, I have a sense of security and tranquility. Combine this with Pat’s company and being aboard Liberte’, this is a safe haven. I don’t want to leave, or rush the moment. I am thinking about whom I am, where I’ve been and where I want to go. It will be here that goals will be revisited and re-evaluated. I prefer to believe that life is an evolution; a continuous learning process that allows mistakes, (only learning to recognize and acknowledge them), and emerging with stronger character, less character defects. Reaching this point on the charts, not maps, reconfirms that the quiet setting of outdoors, smaller towns rather than busy cities is my preference. Enough! You are here to read about my thoughts and observations about the past few days.
Westview: I appreciated the comfort and the flavor of this town. It is geared for the many transients, cruisers going and returning from the waterways north and they make you feel welcome. Some of the amenities included are: marine store, Laundromat, bowling alley, several bookstores and day spas, gift and clothing shops, even a quilt shop, liquor and within a mile the major shopping center with two grocery stores, Wal-Mart, drugstore, Canadian Tires and Starbucks! There are many eateries ranging from pizza, Greek, Thai, Mexican, a free internet bakery and our favorite – The Alchemist, a French restaurant with a touch of Tuscany.
We treated ourselves to an exquisite meal that went from touching our sense of taste, eye appeal with food presentation to the ambiance of the dining room, and a personable and extremely talented owner/chef - Francoise. He and his wife, also an exceptional cook, opened exactly a year ago. They took an old house and renovated the interior: large Mediterranean tiles on the floor, soft textured walls of yellow, few paintings and prints hung the wall , and the warmth of mahogany chairs surrounding tables simplistically set with cloth runners and crisp white linen napkins that spoke volumes of the care to details. Every dish brought to our table or to neighboring diners demonstrated a passion of the owners. Nothing was haphazardly set on a dish. Francoise, and his wife are the owners/chefs, walked around the dining room introduced himself, asking how we enjoyed the meal. Pat choice had been the lamb – a shank combined with 2-3 standing ribs, accented with a sauce, both cooked to perfection in texture and flavor. The side of Yukon gold potatoes and roasted vegetables had him nearly licking the plate. My decision was to go with the chicken breast that had a variety of flavors entwined that never overwhelmed one another, rather compliment. It was served with polenta with a pleasant bite and the roasted vegetables; asparagus, beet, carrot and zucchini. The salad we began with was very fresh greens with light balsamic vinaigrette, a piece of thin crisp toast spread heavy with herb boursin cheese encouraged our appetites. Our dessert, profiteroles, was garnished with a gooseberry. The outer paper like skin had been sliced and peeled back and left to dry to look like tissue paper leaves. It had been chilled so when the diner bit into the fruit the cold distinct taste was a sensory delight. We offered him Seattle. Should he make the move we promised we would be there so frequent, we would have a table of our own! Our waitress, also French, was charming and Karen was the perfect hostess; graciously communicated between the diners and the cooks in the back with sparkling eyes, a genuine smile and attitude of making you feel at home and not a stranger. The Alchemist is a definite reason to revisit Westview, if not on our return then next year. We wish them well and continued success.
So what is it that makes Desolation Sound “heaven on earth”? Waterways made up of channels, coves, and bays of every size and contour, creating a maze, are outlined with islands, islets or rock/s of a variety of shoreline. Although few, sand – rocky beaches appear as welcome landing to the kayakers you see out here. Yesterday we did see one kayaker making several attempts before returning back into his boat out in the middle of Thulin Passage, the northern end of Copeland Islands. We slowed to offer assistance, but his companion was towing him to the beach at that point and waved all was well. Rocky cliffs of varying heights seem to be the rule. With all the little nooks and crannies, Pat said that a sailor has opportunities to find shelter as long as one studies the charts as to be advised to lay of the land below. Drying rocks, shoals that emerge during low tide could ruin the inattentive sailor should he rush in to pass over of lay anchor. Evergreen firs densely cover major sections of the islands which look as is they are made of volcanic, old rock. Some walls are sheer and smooth or stepped, making me consider paintings of Japan, while others are rounded and carved smoothed by centuries of current rushing by with a certainty of the water’s force. Layers upon layers of rolling hills and low mountains made me visualize watercolors. In the distance snow capped peaks are still visible.
We entered into Homfray Channel as the tide was going out which gave sight to thick patches of kelp and algae ranging from black to the multitude of shades green-ending with chartreuse. The artist within was enjoying every essence and beauty offered to four of the five senses; I simply had to leave the security of home. Sounds of seagulls above, songbirds onshore, the wind in the sail, and water pushing past our boat’s hull, the warm air to the touching our skin and feeling the roll of the waves below, the smell of the sea and sea life clinging to the drying rocks that is strong enough you can almost taste the mix of salt and iodine, and visually the excitement of discovering what is around the next bend or up on each island stirs the poet, the artist, an outdoorsman and the naturalist – that sums up a sailor in my estimation. I’m happy that I married one and grateful he is willing to share and teach me this way of life.
During the four hour journey under multiple methods of cruising to Melanie Cove, we were all but solitary sailors which gave the sense of discovery an added sense of awe and wonder. I believe that we could spend years meandering in and about so that we could become well versed on the region. I’m ready to pickup the books that tell of the history and describe the wildlife, flora and geography of Desolation Sound. Next time I will not resist when Pat says,” let’s go.” I’ll be ready and willing!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Many miles traveled and explored – much to share
July 2, 2008
I’m sitting here in Westview, nestled well within a menagerie of boats; a majority have 100 times more miles under our keel than Liberte’ by the looks of them. Waggoner Cruising Guide said to call in and they will make room for you! Jim the manager of the marina is known for his ability to make you welcome and adjust to accommodate one and all. He helped us dock and asked if we came for the international music festival that is taking place this week. One of the musicians is moored directly across from us; he was practicing what sounded like a penny-flute and we had our own small performance as we try to remain cool on a hot muggy afternoon. Westview is a small marine city located on the Malaspina Strait. The docks are beginning to show lots of usage and not upkeep. The original plan was to refuel at the dock as we entered the harbor, but our depth below the keel was 2.9 feet – and we were 30 feet away from the dock so thought better of it and went to Plan B, get fuel on the way out in a couple days, while the tide is working for us.
Liberte’, with her natural beauty, (straight, no-nonsense lines of a thoroughbred rather than bodacious cruiser, “claret” in color and tall slim mast), draw many remarkable people to start conversations with her owners. Brian is an example of this. He was down on the dock, to check the leak within his boat; a 46 wooden boat that his father designed and with the help of his wife and sons, built in the ‘70’s. She has the charm of a family summer cottage. Listening to him talk about the adventures the family took aboard her this is more than a boat. It is family and heritage. His father passed just a month ago and now the struggle to know when is enough to let go of working to repair her or time to let go. It was with pride and admiration when speaking of his family. He saved Pat from hiring a taxi by driving him up to the location for purchasing propane-a distance not for walking and carrying the fuel tank back. He has offered to drive us up this evening to the Grange/Community Center where the International Music Festival is occurring, should we be able to get tickets. Another gentleman swapped a few favorite family places they cruised to as well as giving us info about going for free admission to the competition concert this morning. I’m getting the sense that boaters have a sense of looking out for one another; reminds me of my “happy days” of growing up in the fifties and the sense of neighborhoods being there for one another – more than it is today. Enough philosophy, let’s get back to our journey.
Last evening we were hoping to reach this port but the wind and tides worked against us the entire time we plugged through Jervis Inlet so we spent the night at a public dock in Saltery Bay. Pat had done a great job of planning the time to exit through Malibu Rapids. We approached forty-five minutes early- waited for about fifteen minutes, while watching several other boats fly out! We had communicated over to Firefly who was questioning the chance to go through safely. Pat said he was going to wait; working hard at not scaring me and protecting the boat. He asked them to contact him after going through. “You fly through with a push of 4-5 knots, but it is ok.” Firefly had several children onboard and if the parents felt it was good, why not? I was glad that Pat was at the helm. There was a lot of twirling, pushing and pulling as you are turning in a limited area to stay clear of the rocks, seen and not, and the marker. We had great wind to sail, (up to 25 knots), much of the time providing it wasn’t right on our nose would take patience to zigzag the 46 miles. The defining factor that kept our sails down was the current was running a strong 2+ knots against us! So it was sluggish 4-5 knots we pushed our way back through the 46 miles. Yes, another long day.
Princess Louisa Inlet – Chatterbox Falls Impressions June 27- July 1
The morning began with the sun high, not a cloud in sight and left Garden Bay, Pender Harbor around 7:30 AM. Pat was planning on a 7 hour passage to Malibu Rapids, giving us an hour’s grace for the unknown factors that impede our progress to make for slack tide. Jervis Inlet’s landscape was a variation of mountains that were rugged to round and a mile high. The conical forms of fir and cedar trees were softened with clusters of what appeared to be softly rounded maples, with madronas. Shrubs bearing white blooms broke the solid walls of green as did granite rock laden with a thick layer of moss on their higher portions and algae and kelp along the waters edge. Along some sections one would think that a landscaper had come along and trimmed the lower limbs of all trees; indicating high tide water line. In the distance, as we began the day’s journey, snow capped mountains were seen in the distance. The closer we approached the entrance to Princess Louisa Inlet; those snow capped mountains were running parallel with the water. It was at this point that waterfalls began appearing everywhere. Some looked like sugar icing poured over a smooth layer of chocolate frosting, while others were ribbons of white cutting through the trees and the most spectacular were those with force, velocity and volume that they pushed and cascaded away from the mountains. The waterfalls broke the monotony of the passage. It is pretty country; for me it was long with the sun’s heat beating down on us.
We arrived at Malibu Club, a summer camp for teenagers to have every form of fun in the water was filled to capacity. Laughter and chatter surpassed the drown of the engine. With an hour to fill before slack we journeyed beyond the rapids and went searching for petroglyphs and pictographs that Pat and his crew located on his last voyage here. Thanks to Bob and Cliff doing a great job of documenting the locations, we did find the second set; painted red symbols of fish, and shapes we are not sure of their meanings. Going back through the rapids was a non-event and the 4 mile trip to Chatterbox Falls, found at the end of Princess Louisa Inlet was far enough away I had no idea of what to expect. Waterfalls continued to appear as described previously, the inlet itself was calm without more than a ripple. Anderson Island had a few boats anchored – was it going to be full at the free dock and all the available anchorage in front of the falls full? Rounding the final bend, the roar of Chatterbox Falls got our attention as well as the volume of water pounding the rocks at the water’s edge! The dock was full. As we were passing we heard “Pat” It ended up being Bob and Paul who had been moored in Des Moines next to Liberte’. They offered to allow us to raft up to Camperna for the night. What a small world. Bob & his wife are from Australia with so many voyages to tell about. I’m not certain if they had traveled around the world but pretty close to it. Susan and Paul, with their two toddlers, (Campenera is their boat), are from California. They too have many adventures to share. They invited us over for wine and snacks on our second evening at Chatterbox Falls which Pat accepted. I did make a large batch of cinnamon, cranberry sticky buns to offer as a thank you for allowing us to raft up to early the next morning.
While the bread dough was rising Pat and I did take a short hike to the lower side of Chatterbox Fall. Since he was last here, a large covered area has been constructed with a plaque to commemorate the effort of MacDonald to make this a protected area for one and all. The overspray from the water was so significant that one could almost use it as a refreshing shower. A wonderful respite from the intensity of the sun beating down into the canyon, with no breeze. The trail head marker to the start of the Trapper’s Cabin indicated that it was a strenuous 2 mile hike; a 2,000 foot elevation gain. No thank you. I’ve done that some 30 years ago and not willing to ‘prove’ myself this time. Many people were frolicking at the bottom of the falls, where it acts like a river before entering the inlet while the tide was out. In the afternoon, while the temperature was still rising or maintaining its heat, we chose to go kayaking around the perimeter of the inlet. It was fun to hear birds, some sounding like robins but the trees were so dense you could not see into them. The water near the edge was clear and as we passed over you could see clam shells and in some areas, oysters. An upside-down crab carcass was the only indication that there were other forms of sea life around. Before we headed back to the boat, a line of four seals were popping up and down, which makes me think that there was something available for them to forage after their journey in here. All the while we were paddling easily about, the sun beat down on our hat covered heads, we continued to hydrate with water and I would splash water onto my shoulders, arms and actually dipped my hat to try to lower my body’s heat. It didn’t work well enough. I was back onboard the boat by 4 PM and it took 48 hours to begin feeling human again. I am still working on getting back to being normal! Thank goodness that Pat is content to keep himself occupied and fend for himself. I have been worthless as best mate and am anxious to be available once we return to sea Friday, heading up to Desolation Sound. We will be there for a week give or take. It depends on what is to see and the weather. It will be that long before I am able to continue this saga due to lack of connections
I’m sitting here in Westview, nestled well within a menagerie of boats; a majority have 100 times more miles under our keel than Liberte’ by the looks of them. Waggoner Cruising Guide said to call in and they will make room for you! Jim the manager of the marina is known for his ability to make you welcome and adjust to accommodate one and all. He helped us dock and asked if we came for the international music festival that is taking place this week. One of the musicians is moored directly across from us; he was practicing what sounded like a penny-flute and we had our own small performance as we try to remain cool on a hot muggy afternoon. Westview is a small marine city located on the Malaspina Strait. The docks are beginning to show lots of usage and not upkeep. The original plan was to refuel at the dock as we entered the harbor, but our depth below the keel was 2.9 feet – and we were 30 feet away from the dock so thought better of it and went to Plan B, get fuel on the way out in a couple days, while the tide is working for us.
Liberte’, with her natural beauty, (straight, no-nonsense lines of a thoroughbred rather than bodacious cruiser, “claret” in color and tall slim mast), draw many remarkable people to start conversations with her owners. Brian is an example of this. He was down on the dock, to check the leak within his boat; a 46 wooden boat that his father designed and with the help of his wife and sons, built in the ‘70’s. She has the charm of a family summer cottage. Listening to him talk about the adventures the family took aboard her this is more than a boat. It is family and heritage. His father passed just a month ago and now the struggle to know when is enough to let go of working to repair her or time to let go. It was with pride and admiration when speaking of his family. He saved Pat from hiring a taxi by driving him up to the location for purchasing propane-a distance not for walking and carrying the fuel tank back. He has offered to drive us up this evening to the Grange/Community Center where the International Music Festival is occurring, should we be able to get tickets. Another gentleman swapped a few favorite family places they cruised to as well as giving us info about going for free admission to the competition concert this morning. I’m getting the sense that boaters have a sense of looking out for one another; reminds me of my “happy days” of growing up in the fifties and the sense of neighborhoods being there for one another – more than it is today. Enough philosophy, let’s get back to our journey.
Last evening we were hoping to reach this port but the wind and tides worked against us the entire time we plugged through Jervis Inlet so we spent the night at a public dock in Saltery Bay. Pat had done a great job of planning the time to exit through Malibu Rapids. We approached forty-five minutes early- waited for about fifteen minutes, while watching several other boats fly out! We had communicated over to Firefly who was questioning the chance to go through safely. Pat said he was going to wait; working hard at not scaring me and protecting the boat. He asked them to contact him after going through. “You fly through with a push of 4-5 knots, but it is ok.” Firefly had several children onboard and if the parents felt it was good, why not? I was glad that Pat was at the helm. There was a lot of twirling, pushing and pulling as you are turning in a limited area to stay clear of the rocks, seen and not, and the marker. We had great wind to sail, (up to 25 knots), much of the time providing it wasn’t right on our nose would take patience to zigzag the 46 miles. The defining factor that kept our sails down was the current was running a strong 2+ knots against us! So it was sluggish 4-5 knots we pushed our way back through the 46 miles. Yes, another long day.
Princess Louisa Inlet – Chatterbox Falls Impressions June 27- July 1
The morning began with the sun high, not a cloud in sight and left Garden Bay, Pender Harbor around 7:30 AM. Pat was planning on a 7 hour passage to Malibu Rapids, giving us an hour’s grace for the unknown factors that impede our progress to make for slack tide. Jervis Inlet’s landscape was a variation of mountains that were rugged to round and a mile high. The conical forms of fir and cedar trees were softened with clusters of what appeared to be softly rounded maples, with madronas. Shrubs bearing white blooms broke the solid walls of green as did granite rock laden with a thick layer of moss on their higher portions and algae and kelp along the waters edge. Along some sections one would think that a landscaper had come along and trimmed the lower limbs of all trees; indicating high tide water line. In the distance, as we began the day’s journey, snow capped mountains were seen in the distance. The closer we approached the entrance to Princess Louisa Inlet; those snow capped mountains were running parallel with the water. It was at this point that waterfalls began appearing everywhere. Some looked like sugar icing poured over a smooth layer of chocolate frosting, while others were ribbons of white cutting through the trees and the most spectacular were those with force, velocity and volume that they pushed and cascaded away from the mountains. The waterfalls broke the monotony of the passage. It is pretty country; for me it was long with the sun’s heat beating down on us.
We arrived at Malibu Club, a summer camp for teenagers to have every form of fun in the water was filled to capacity. Laughter and chatter surpassed the drown of the engine. With an hour to fill before slack we journeyed beyond the rapids and went searching for petroglyphs and pictographs that Pat and his crew located on his last voyage here. Thanks to Bob and Cliff doing a great job of documenting the locations, we did find the second set; painted red symbols of fish, and shapes we are not sure of their meanings. Going back through the rapids was a non-event and the 4 mile trip to Chatterbox Falls, found at the end of Princess Louisa Inlet was far enough away I had no idea of what to expect. Waterfalls continued to appear as described previously, the inlet itself was calm without more than a ripple. Anderson Island had a few boats anchored – was it going to be full at the free dock and all the available anchorage in front of the falls full? Rounding the final bend, the roar of Chatterbox Falls got our attention as well as the volume of water pounding the rocks at the water’s edge! The dock was full. As we were passing we heard “Pat” It ended up being Bob and Paul who had been moored in Des Moines next to Liberte’. They offered to allow us to raft up to Camperna for the night. What a small world. Bob & his wife are from Australia with so many voyages to tell about. I’m not certain if they had traveled around the world but pretty close to it. Susan and Paul, with their two toddlers, (Campenera is their boat), are from California. They too have many adventures to share. They invited us over for wine and snacks on our second evening at Chatterbox Falls which Pat accepted. I did make a large batch of cinnamon, cranberry sticky buns to offer as a thank you for allowing us to raft up to early the next morning.
While the bread dough was rising Pat and I did take a short hike to the lower side of Chatterbox Fall. Since he was last here, a large covered area has been constructed with a plaque to commemorate the effort of MacDonald to make this a protected area for one and all. The overspray from the water was so significant that one could almost use it as a refreshing shower. A wonderful respite from the intensity of the sun beating down into the canyon, with no breeze. The trail head marker to the start of the Trapper’s Cabin indicated that it was a strenuous 2 mile hike; a 2,000 foot elevation gain. No thank you. I’ve done that some 30 years ago and not willing to ‘prove’ myself this time. Many people were frolicking at the bottom of the falls, where it acts like a river before entering the inlet while the tide was out. In the afternoon, while the temperature was still rising or maintaining its heat, we chose to go kayaking around the perimeter of the inlet. It was fun to hear birds, some sounding like robins but the trees were so dense you could not see into them. The water near the edge was clear and as we passed over you could see clam shells and in some areas, oysters. An upside-down crab carcass was the only indication that there were other forms of sea life around. Before we headed back to the boat, a line of four seals were popping up and down, which makes me think that there was something available for them to forage after their journey in here. All the while we were paddling easily about, the sun beat down on our hat covered heads, we continued to hydrate with water and I would splash water onto my shoulders, arms and actually dipped my hat to try to lower my body’s heat. It didn’t work well enough. I was back onboard the boat by 4 PM and it took 48 hours to begin feeling human again. I am still working on getting back to being normal! Thank goodness that Pat is content to keep himself occupied and fend for himself. I have been worthless as best mate and am anxious to be available once we return to sea Friday, heading up to Desolation Sound. We will be there for a week give or take. It depends on what is to see and the weather. It will be that long before I am able to continue this saga due to lack of connections
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