There were two full days of approaching rain, rain and walls of rain. I am thankful for having projects that have my full attention to their evolution. I was enjoying the obligatory imprisonment; option to go out and get soaked. The air within the cabin has a constant feeling of dampness and we elected to not add to this with more wet clothes. My thoughts to how as a younger woman, believed I could be a great pioneer woma
n dissolved into a puddle. This became very apparent while watching a couple paddling through to Laura Cove from Melody Cove. I sensed their hesitation as the pelting rain washed over them and then without a lot of heart, exit out. Less than half an hour from their departure, a large flash of light charged the cove followed by thunder shaking the boat almost immediately rendered my thoughts going the easier route was OK. Time being on my side, my mind wandered to the why I was leaning in this direction. I have been reading about different legendary pioneers of this region, many of them women. The common thread woven with each story is that they were engaged with exploring and navigating the waterways of Desolation Sound. I like the water, but I love and feel more at home on land. Before children, you would find me out and about the hikes in the Cascade and Olympic Mountains, all year round. I began with my father’s old Trapper Nelson backpack, ‘desert boots’, a heavy 5 pound sleeping bag and plastic tarp to call a tent! From there the new technology of the late 60’s and early 70’s found me with a 3 pound down bag and a 3-man tent I built without a pattern that was light; an entire twelve pounds, including the tent poles! That was considered luxurious. Now, back to where I was going. . .
n dissolved into a puddle. This became very apparent while watching a couple paddling through to Laura Cove from Melody Cove. I sensed their hesitation as the pelting rain washed over them and then without a lot of heart, exit out. Less than half an hour from their departure, a large flash of light charged the cove followed by thunder shaking the boat almost immediately rendered my thoughts going the easier route was OK. Time being on my side, my mind wandered to the why I was leaning in this direction. I have been reading about different legendary pioneers of this region, many of them women. The common thread woven with each story is that they were engaged with exploring and navigating the waterways of Desolation Sound. I like the water, but I love and feel more at home on land. Before children, you would find me out and about the hikes in the Cascade and Olympic Mountains, all year round. I began with my father’s old Trapper Nelson backpack, ‘desert boots’, a heavy 5 pound sleeping bag and plastic tarp to call a tent! From there the new technology of the late 60’s and early 70’s found me with a 3 pound down bag and a 3-man tent I built without a pattern that was light; an entire twelve pounds, including the tent poles! That was considered luxurious. Now, back to where I was going. . .Capi Blanchet, famed author of “Curve of Time” has my respect of not returning to the East coast to the security of a wealthy family after her husband drowned. She was able to be who and what she loved; an independent and adventurous woman and mother in the western frontier. The lessons of curiosity, learning by experience and by reading and following the discoveries of Captain Vancouver every year with her children built strong and self-reliant individuals. Betty L. Carey, in 1937 left The San Juan Islands in a refurbished dugout canoe, alone, and landed in Alaska. I don’t do well with being wet and cold. Call me faint of heart, I don’t mind. These women have my total respect. However I also respect the power of water and when you combine water with Mother Nature it equates for me the feeling of a small insignificant cork bobbing about. I’d prefer crafting a home from the woods or a plot of land, planting and harvesting my food from the land. In retrospect, some of my fondest memories as a young woman are those years honing these skills while my children were growing up. I am enjoying exploring here in Desolation Sound with the comfort of Liberté and knowing that Captain Pat has years of experience and learned knowledge to keep me safe. He too seems to be enjoying this trip for together we are experiencing places he has not been to on his prior trips to this country.
The radio station, “The River” out of Campbell River is a very youthful. While my bamboo needles were crossing with knits and purls, the colors of yarn painting melody of supple fibers, I heard and listen to the words to songs as “If I was a Millionaire”,’ . . . I’d buy you a fur coat, but not real, cause that would be cruel.’ or “I Wish I Was Conscience-Free”. . .na, na, na. My goodness did the baby-boomers take up all the combination of melodies and lyrics? Outside the rain would not even keep to the rhythm of the discordant beat inside. After a period of time and feeling restless rather than soothed, I exchanged the stereo to my selection of music on the i-pod. 
It was great to awake to natural, unfiltered sunlight yesterday. After breakfast we elected to take the kayaks off the deck and paddle to the beach to take the trail around the island to Melanie Cove. Everything was shiny, looking fresh from the two days of cleansing. Enough time had passed so that there were no heavy droplets to soak us as we progressed along the well-defined trail. There were a couple of sections with wind-fallen trees, causing us to duck and waddle or climb over. The trail was ours alone. Silence was broken by the swoosh of Pat’s quick 
dry pants or a frog croaking off in the distance. A small group of songbirds made their presence heard, momentarily. The ground, soft with the rain and years accumulation of fallen needles and leaves was welcoming to our legs that have been static over the duration of hibernation within the cabin. Arriving at the head of Melanie cove found a quiet beach with few boats moored in the inner cove. No one was venturing out – perhaps they were dubious of the clouds overhead. By the time we returned to our beach, half hour trip either way, the clouds managed to squeeze out a gentle sprinkle - nothing to saturate us as we returned to Liberté. As we pulled anchor to move down to Tenados Bay, we could watch the microclimates descending upon Roscoe Bay north, northwest of us. To the east the mountains were disappearing once again with the rain clouds we had accustomed ourselves to for the past couple of days. South was looking more promising.
dry pants or a frog croaking off in the distance. A small group of songbirds made their presence heard, momentarily. The ground, soft with the rain and years accumulation of fallen needles and leaves was welcoming to our legs that have been static over the duration of hibernation within the cabin. Arriving at the head of Melanie cove found a quiet beach with few boats moored in the inner cove. No one was venturing out – perhaps they were dubious of the clouds overhead. By the time we returned to our beach, half hour trip either way, the clouds managed to squeeze out a gentle sprinkle - nothing to saturate us as we returned to Liberté. As we pulled anchor to move down to Tenados Bay, we could watch the microclimates descending upon Roscoe Bay north, northwest of us. To the east the mountains were disappearing once again with the rain clouds we had accustomed ourselves to for the past couple of days. South was looking more promising.
The scenery throughout Desolation Sound is remarkable. The vertical granite rock walls are decorated with burnt sienna and ochre mosses, and conical evergreens pointing to heaven while arbutus trees conform to the tortuous wall. Many look like large bonsai trees. Their red trunks are void of the papery bark. From what I remember from reading about the area, glaciers carved out these high walls and yet there are areas that look as if they have risen out of the earth in folds; as in volcano and earthquakes over eons. Beaches for going ashore are few and far between. The low tide showcases oysters everywhere. The small number of seagulls we have seen, more often than not have their beak wrapped around a fresh mussel. We are anchored in the middle of the NW corner of Tenados Bay. We can see through the small passage over to Three-Fathoms Bay and then across to the other side where the trail to Lake Unwen is. Voices and sounds of the other boats anchored nearby traveled easily last night. Perhaps the high rock walls have something to do with sounds echoing here. Yes, we have been spoiled by silence with so few boats sharing anchorage with us.
We allowed the morning to warm and prove to us that rain was not the highlight of the day before dropping into our kayaks for the long trip over to Lake Unwen side of the bay. We first headed west to explore where the seals were playing last evening. The channel between here and Three Fathom Cove was shallow for anchorage but a deep oyster bed covered the entirety. They were tempting to pluck a few for dinner, however we thought better of it. Seals followed behind, teasing me with an occasional jump up and back into the water. Masses of white “Moon” jelly fishes seen inside our corner were not seen out in the middle where the depth is 300-400+ feet deep. However once we approached the far shore they again appeared. Fascinating to watch as their bodies opened and closed to propel them through the water.
The short half mile hike to Lake Unwen was easy on a well traveled path. The woods were heavy with the smell of decay and moisture. Trees upright and those now playing the role of nurse logs were laden with dense layers of moss or sheets suspended from their branches. The trail had segments of cedar planks laid out to keep the hikers from the sticky ooze of rich mud. Reaching the lake came to an abrupt stop. There is a log jam with trees of various shapes and sizes at the end. We attempted to walk out on them to have a better look at the lake. One slip from me helped us decide that the damp logs were not the best thing for our shoes to negotiate. On the way up to the lake we could hear the sounds of waterfalls and went down a side path to find them. Picturesque falls cascading into small pools were our reward. I had fun playing with my camera for a few minutes before we headed back to the kayaks. At the beach we began talking to Gordon and Susie. They have been living on a boat for the past 15 years and seem to enjoy all the places they have explored from Alaska to Mexico. Just a short time after our return and a blissful shower they stopped by our boat with their small zodiac and offered us fresh oysters. What a treat! They picked them outside of Tenados where the water runs faster and clear. They should be great with our lamb tonight.
It is raining once more. Not heavy nevertheless it may be here for the duration of the night. With a good long paddle, a short stretch of the legs, feeling clean – knowing we have a good dinner waiting – life is good and we have nothing to complain about and much to enjoy and appreciate.
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