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| RESEARCH CRUISE 2008
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June 18, 2008.
Strait of Georgia. We’re in Pender Harbour, resting after a busy first week, a week that included crossing the Strait of Georgia from the Gulf Islands to the east side of the strait, the area they call the Sunshine Coast. Experienced cruisers view a crossing of the strait with great caution. Inexperienced cruisers – or, I should say, clueless cruisers – look at their map (they often don’t have the right charts), and say, “It’s only about 30 miles or so. How big a deal can that be?” Sometimes they find out.
We crossed from Silva Bay on Gabriola Island, where we had meetings with the grocery store, the motel, the Silva Bay Resort and Marina, and the family who has been running Page’s Resort and fuel dock for the past year. The meetings were over by a little after 4:00 p.m. The question: should we leave our anchorage in Silva Bay and extend an already-long day, or wait for morning?
The Continuous Marine Weather Broadcast would provide guidance. The evening winds were forecast to be northwest 10-15 knots, rising to 20 knots late. We could tell the wind was blowing about 15 knots at Silva Bay. The Entrance Island lighthouse a short distance north reported northwest winds of 17 knots, 2-foot chop, low northwest swell. Merry Island reported northwest winds of about 5 knots, rippled seas. Merry Island is on the east side of the strait, about where we would touch when we crossed. Chrome Island, approximately opposite Merry Island on the Vancouver Island side, reported light winds.
The winds, in short, didn’t look too bad. Furthermore, the tide was ebbing, meaning the current was flowing south, the same direction as the wind. Wind and current flowing the same direction flattens the seas. That’s a good sign.
The wind forecast for the next day didn’t sound too bad, but the tide would be flooding. The current would be opposing the wind, making the seas higher and closer together.
Conditions looked good for an evening crossing. We went for it. The seas were two to three feet from trough to crest, but with some distance between them. Thank the ebb current. They were on the port bow, just off our nose, and the spray kept the wipers going.
Our speed was a fuel-sipping 8 knots. Merry Island was 27 miles away. The time was approaching 5:00 p.m. A little late. At 8 knots we’d be arriving at the protection of Buccaneer Bay or Secret Cove around 9:00 p.m., tired, hungry, and in failing light. So an expensive decision was made. We pushed the throttles forward and picked up speed to 14 knots, no longer sipping fuel.
But we made progress. The miles went by faster. The wipers cleared the windows. The seas, if anything, flattened as we went north. Merry Island came abeam about 7:00 p.m. and we decided we were tired enough. It had been years since we had visited Buccaneer Bay, between North Thormanby Island and South Thormanby Island. We would anchor there for the night. At 8:00 p.m. the anchor went down in 45 feet near the south end of the bay. Marilynn started supper while I washed the accumulated salt spray from the windows, and we settled down for the night.
Next morning, we upped anchor at 0700 and motored about 10 miles north to Pender Harbour, slowed to 6 knots and proceeded to Garden Bay at the back of Pender Harbour, where we’re tied up now.
There’s a lesson in this little story. The lesson is, for much boating in these waters, there are broad principles that affect Go, No-go decisions, but few absolutes. You have to look at conditions as they are, and as they are apt to be, and make your best judgment about what to do. At the Chemainus Marina the day before we went to Silva Bay, we were tied next to a delightful couple who would be cruising their sailboat until October (they’d already been out a month). The wife was hungry for specific advice on just about every place that lay ahead. She had all the guide books (a good thing) and complete charts (a wonderful thing), and a thick tablet filled with notes.
This sounds so forward-thinking, so responsible. But she tended to go too far. She would have learn that you can’t know everything ahead of time. The mix of elements that go into a decision is too complex. Wind, current direction and strength, time of turn from rising tide to falling tide, range between high tide and low tide, time of slack water and maximum current in the passes, time of day and maybe a dozen more variables enter into every decision.
Some decisions, of course, are easy: It’s blowing 40 knots and WE’RE NOT MOVING. Others are okay, but not 100 percent: The wind and current told us to cross the Strait of Georgia, but the hour was late. I knew we’d have to use our speed, and the fuel it took.
Credit cards. If you’re going to be out of the country, contact your credit card companies to tell them of your plans. Otherwise, you may have a completely legitimate charge denied, and have to spend uncomfortable minutes (or hours) getting it approved. The toll-free contact numbers are on the backs of the cards. Wait for the menu of options to run through, and click for a person to help you. It’s aggravating at times, but it can be done.
Swinomish Channel. Heading north on our departure from Seattle, Smith Island, in the middle of the east entrance to the Strait of Juan de Fuca, was reporting 21 knots of westerly. Not pretty. So we went up the east side of Whidbey Island but were late for the slack, turn to flood, at Deception Pass. Swinomish Channel (LaConner) was the option. It just happened that we entered the Swinomish Channel a short time after low water of a very, very low tide. Page 94 of the 2008 Waggoner advises that the channel west of Goat Island is shoal. We can confirm that advice. Immediately after turning into Swinomish Channel, the depths dropped dramatically. Depths continued shallow (scary shallow) past Goat Island. A deep draft sailboat would have found bottom and had to wait for a rising tide. Caution advised on low tides.
Rosario Resort. Gary Joseph, who lives aboard his Catalina 42 sailboat at the head of the docks, continues as the very effective dock manager of the resort. Gary is not the only one who’s effective. Gilda Traylor, the manager of the Bay Boutique gift shop on the bottom floor of the Rosario mansion, is deadly. We walked in just to look around, and Marilynn walked out with a new jacket. The gift shop is a reflection of Gilda’s superb artistic eye and fashion sense. I would have bought a handsome (and expensive) sweat shirt, but it had a Rosario logo and I advertise only the Waggoner. Gilda is fun and very direct. The boutique is open seven days a week. Gilda works Thursday through Sunday. Bring a credit card with room on it, and enjoy every minute.
Otter Bay Marina. This report kind of skips around and doesn’t cover every stop. Readers should know, however, that Otter Bay Marina, on North Pender Island in the Gulf Islands, is on its way back. We won’t go through the financial problems of years past, but the new owner, with Wolfgang Hinz as manager, is making Otter Bay a good stop again. When we were there, the lower swimming pool was closed for repairs (to be done as soon as the rain stopped), but the new upper pool was open. The stand-up-to-eat-it informal café was operating (Wolfgang has an impressive resume as a food and beverage manager). The docks have been repaired and pressure washed, and the electric power replaced: 15 and 30 amp, with a few 50 amp outlets. Transportation still is provided to the Pender Island golf course, nearby.
Telegraph Harbour. Thetis Island Marina has a new dock, with 30 amp power, on the south side. At Telegraph Harbour Marina, Barbara’s homemade pies are terrific. We bought a strawberry-rhubarb pie and wolfed it down (I like pie).
Chemainus. Harmen Bootsma is the pleasant and definitely “in-charge” manager at the marina. Several people recommend a Japanese restaurant a short distance from the docks. We had tickets for South Pacific at the Chemainus Theatre Festival. Like shows we’ve seen there in previous years, this one was thoroughly professional and imaginative. As we walked back to the boat I kept singing, “Sooome enchanted eeevening, yoooou will meet a stranger . . .” which had Marilynn hitting my shoulder and telling me to hush. The show was sold out that night. We bought tickets ahead.
Ladysmith. As noted elsewhere, Page Point Marina is closed to visitors, pending major redevelopment. Just in time, the Ladysmith Maritime Society, on the south side of Ladysmith Harbour, has expanded its guest moorage and encourages visitors. They have three docks, just inside Slag Point. Visitor moorage is along yellow-painted bull rails on the middle dock. The western dock has boat houses, so you won’t be tempted to tie up there.
Silva Bay. The grocery at Silva Bay Inn is small, but carries pretty much what a visitor needs. What a welcome change from a few years ago. Upland, the old motel now houses a couple boutiques, and a New Age style boutique just opened next to the grocery. The new owners of the property have worked a miracle here, and they aren’t done.
The Silva Bay Marina has ambitious development in the works (we saw the drawings), but for this season it’s the advertised fuel, moorage, dining, laundry, washrooms and showers. Everything was in good condition. The restaurant was busy and people were smiling.
Next door, Gloria and Ken Hatfield and their kids Nicolas, Stephanie and Michelle, have finished their first year as the Page’s Resort and fuel dock new owners. Gloria is the daughter of Ted and Phyllis Reeve, who owned the resort for many years, so this remains a family operation. We spent at least an hour with them (see late departure from Silva Bay, above), and were charmed. Great people.
Pender Harbour. Those who think nothing changes from year to year should go to Pender Harbour. Because much has changed in Pender Harbour, and continues to change. Painted Boat, the old Lowe’s Resort, has been developed into quarter-share million-dollar condos, 31 of them, plus elegant restaurant, pool (for guests), spa (open to the public and due in 2009), and meeting room. We had lunch on the deck, looking west. Bring money, but it’s classy. Everybody’s talking about it. The Madeira Park IGA has added something like 2,000 new items since the new owner took over two years ago. New walkways and gardens keep being added to the village. Ian McNee is the new manager at the docks at Madeira Park, replacing Diana Pryde, who retired. Up at the golf course, a chef (not a cook) has brought new ideas to the restaurant, which has been re-done. The docks and uplands at Fisherman’s Resort & Marina in Hospital Bay are in good shape, with constant improvements. Owners David Pritchard and Jennifer Love have brought astonishing energy to an already popular destination.
Buccaneer Bay. Beautiful, although deep except around the edges at the south end. Open to the north. We anchored in calm, but a predicted northwesterly arrived on schedule a short time after midnight and we did bounce. The anchor held solid.
It’s bedtime and we’re heading for Desolation Sound tomorrow morning. Rain just began, landing soft on the overhead. We’ve restocked the ship’s stores, done the laundry, emptied the garbage, checked the engines, and filled the water tanks. Cruising is one of life’s great pleasures.
Bob and Marilynn Hale
July 1, 2008.
The Rapids. This report begins at the end, meaning the rapids north of Desolation Sound. There are five sets of reversing rapids along a 28-mile stretch: the Yucultas (pronounced “Yew-cla-taws”), Gillard Passage, Dent Rapids, Greene Point Rapids and Whirlpool Rapids. On a flood the rapids flow southward, from the top of Vancouver Island to Desolation Sound. On an ebb they flow northward toward the top of Vancouver Island.
Those who have never run this section are rightly concerned about the challenge. At full force on a large tide, they can be like whitewater mountain streams, filled with overfalls, boils and whirlpools. Even at slack water, currents can hit the boat and turn it suddenly. It’s okay to be intimidated.
But each year thousands of boats run the rapids without incident, so there must be a way to do it. And of course, there is. Here is our approach, which is about the same for most boats.
Northbound, plan to take two days. The rapids turn from north to south, from Whirlpool Rapids to the Yucultas. If you hit the Yucultas at slack, Whirlpool and Greene Point rapids will already have turned and will be running full force by the time you get to them. So do the Yucultas, Gillard Passage and Dent Rapids one day. Overnight at Shoal Bay, Cordero Lodge or Blind Channel. Next morning, do Greene Point and Whirlpool rapids.
A variation on this plan would be to run just the Yucultas at the end of your last day in Desolation Sound and overnight at the Stuart Island Community Marina in Big Bay. Or (if your credit card needs a workout) the elegant Dent Island Lodge a short distance beyond. Next morning, run Gillard Passage and Dent Rapids.
You’ll have company. At least during the season, you won’t be alone. Boats stack up, waiting for the right time to go. Work out your own timing, but if you are the only boat there, check your work. It should be quite a parade. Don’t be shy about calling other boats on the radio to ask their advice. Often, simply monitoring VHF channel 16 will tell you all you need to know.
Don’t follow the lead of the high-speed water taxis and the fishing guide boats. They have the power, speed and skills to go when you shouldn’t. You want to go through with the 8-knot trawlers and the sailboats.
Like minds reach the same answers. This expands on “You’ll have company,” above. We overnighted at Blind Channel Resort this year. Next morning, nearby Greene Point Rapids was predicted to turn from flood to ebb around 0730. We decided to get up before breakfast and depart at 0630. We would go through Greene Point Rapids at the end of the flood and carry the new ebb through Whirlpool Rapids. At 0625, engines fired up all along the docks. Everyone had come up with the same plan. We were quite a group, marching along.
***
Gorge Harbour. No new docks this year. Approvals for the expansion plans have taken longer than hoped, but the first approval arrived in the mail the day we visited. The expanded docks proposal is about an inch thick, with three CDs showing that the new pilings and docks would not affect sea life. Meanwhile the docks have all new 15 and 30 amp electric power. The laundry room has all new machines, the store is well stocked, and Mark Ferguson, the chef, will be running the restaurant for the fifth straight year. Barb and Grant are doing a great job at Gorge Harbour.
Squirrel Cove General Store. Since the store serves island residents year-round the stock is good, including fresh vegetables in the walk-in refrigerator room. Wireless internet is available, although the signal might not reach the docks. The signal is excellent in the laundry room, though. The Cove restaurant will be open seven days a week beginning in July.
Refuge Cove.Upcoast Summers wasn’t open (health problems), but Darren and Carol O’Hara and daughter Meghan have moved their imposing 1920s barge, with Boat Stop Café, to Refuge Cove. It was tied to the fuel dock, but Darren told us they plan to move it a short distance away, connected to shore by stiff legs. We had thick, messy and wonderful hamburgers for lunch. Plan to have supper late. Lunch will last. The store has good stock, including a wide selection of cruising guides and books about local history. The docks are in good shape, the laundry is tidy and the fuel dock was busy.
Toba Wildernest. Several boats were there, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. The new dog is named Teddy. He loves everyone. Daughter Rowan is three years old now, and bilingual in English and French. Kyle built a new dock last winter, using floatation acquired from a fish farm that was closing. The dock is solid and stable. Excellent job.
Stuart Island Community Marina. Roger and Cathy Minor got their liquor store license, and the booze counter is a busy place during slack water in the Yucultas. There isn’t much profit margin in the private liquor store business, but local lodges are putting their (extensive) orders through Stuart Island, so the enterprise is doing okay. Cathy Minor has stocked the store with a selection of needed grocery items, emphasizing small sizes wherever possible. Most of the gift items are local. This includes locally knitted wool sweaters, locally made jewelry, even locally made knives, everything of high quality. Cathy has a good eye. She carries things not found elsewhere.
The docks are in fine shape, with yet one additional long float coming.
Dent Island Lodge. Everything about Dent Island is first-class, including the rate structure. The docks are wide and stable, the power is 30 and 50 amp, the water is unlimited, the grounds are manicured to perfection. The restaurant is impeccable, and the staff is well trained. Justin and Trish Farr are the managers. Their kids, Olivia (5) and Ty (2 ½), have little jobs there, but aren’t underfoot.
Oleo’s. Ever since Leon died we’ve not known what to expect at Oleo’s. Everything is on floats, tucked behind a little island in Frederick Arm. Ruth is still there, cooking her suppers for guests. Daughter Katerina got married last September and has moved to Alberta, where she’s doing drywall work for good pay. Son Paul finishes his landscape work on Stuart Island by 3:00 p.m., and runs up to Frederick Arm to help Ruth at dinner.
Shoal Bay. Mark MacDonald’s wintertime business brokering race horses from England to California has suffered, and isn’t producing enough to underwrite Mark’s ambitions for Shoal Bay. Ed Handja has the property listed for more than $2 million in an ad in Pacific Yachting. Mark says he hopes no one steps up.
Meanwhile, Mark’s amazing vegetable garden grows larger, and work proceeds on the guest cabin he’s building. A marten got into the hen house this spring and killed all the chickens. Mark was heartbroken. The chickens were a lot of company.
The grass that Marilynn is shown mowing in the 2008 Waggoner is growing high, with mowing now confined to walking areas, the horseshoe pitch and some little sitting areas. The wind was very light when we visited, but Mark says a fresh breeze blowing out of Phillips Arm makes the grass wave like the surface of the ocean.
Laundry from a visiting boat was hanging on the line when we were there. There’s nothing like sheets that were dried in the sun with the wind blowing through them.
Cordero Lodge. Busy as usual. Three fishing guideboats from Dent Island brought their patrons in for lunch. Doris’s German cooking is superb. We had lunch. Reinhardt looks good. A guest from Germany was staying in one of the rooms, and was in the restaurant with Reinhardt, watching World Cup soccer on television. Doris spoke to the guest in German, then began speaking to us in German. Halfway into the sentence she caught herself and apologized. No apology needed, of course.
Blind Channel. They redid all the power over the winter, including a new generator. The docks now have 15, 30 and some 50 amp electricity. Up in the store, six loaves of Jennifer’s bread were fresh out of the oven, still warm. We bought a loaf. Dinner in the restaurant was excellent. Marilynn had a bumbleberry crisp for dessert and I had a slice of hot apple pie, both made fresh by Jennifer. We could not imagine how they could have been better. Eliot and his wife Laura, third generation of family ownership, are as comfortable as a pair of slippers.
That’s it for the second week. Next week, the Broughtons, Sointula and Port McNeill.v
July 1, 2008.
We survive a crisis. This crisis actually occurred in Week Two, but it could happen even more easily as the surroundings grow increasingly remote. We got through okay, but there were some harrowing moments.
The crisis was – a mouse. It came aboard at one of our several stops in Desolation Sound, and hid quietly. One morning Marilynn noticed the distinctive little dots of mouse droppings on the galley counter. Further investigation revealed more droppings where crackers and such are kept. A sleeve of Ritz crackers with peanut butter had been chewed into and one of the cracker-and-peanut butter snacks partly eaten. Some cookies were compromised. Paper napkins were disturbed, as if to be makings for a nest.
Marilynn was horrified. She was also very tentative about moving things around in the cupboard to see what else had been gotten into. What if the fearsome mouse were there? Then she got mad. Not only had the mouse gone after the crackers, it had opened the end of one of Marilynn’s chocolate bars! Little parallel tooth marks scored the end of the precious chocolate, one of life’s essential food groups. Scraps of foil from the wrapper lay nearby. War was declared.
Everything the mouse had gotten into, of course, went directly to the garbage. Everything not affected but available for attack was put into plastic containers and sealed shut. Then we got out the artillery. Two mouse traps were removed from their cellophane wrapper. One went into the cracker cupboard. The other went to the apples-and-bananas area.
We waited. No loud snap. That was okay; it was midday, and mice are nocturnal. We probably would have a victim (maybe two victims) in the morning. Next morning, very carefully, Marilynn opened the cupboard doors. The traps were empty. Furthermore, no mouse droppings were to be seen. Nor has any evidence of a mouse been found since then. The mouse came, it fed, and apparently it left. Marilynn once more trusts her chocolate.
Bears. In contrast with last year, when we didn’t see many bears, this year we’ve seen quite a few. Our best day so far is seven: six black bears and one grizzly. The grizzly was in a berry patch just up from the beach. It stood on its hind legs and stared in the direction of the dinghy I was in, showing its massive head. When it dropped down and turned I could see the defining hump at the base of its neck, so it was a grizzly for sure, not a brown-colored black bear.
Dancing dolphins. This has been the year of the Pacific white sided dolphins. They’re in pods, and they leap happily along, splashing in the channels. At one point several of them altered course and ran to our boat, where they zoomed up beside us and jumped clear of the water. One in particular hung just off the cockpit in our wake. Again and again it jumped clear, landed nose first, and slapped its tail into the wave. I wondered if it were trying to communicate something to me, or if slapping its tail just felt good.
We haven’t seen any whales yet, although when Pierre’s huge lodge was being towed from Pierre’s Bay to its new home at Echo Bay, a humpback whale went under the lodge, rolled and dove, showing its tail flukes. A photo is here.
Weather. We who live in the Northwest know the first weeks of June were cold, the coldest on record both in Seattle and Vancouver. “Junuary,” those weeks have been called. Now it’s warming up. Not much rain, either. In the first six weeks of our research cruise last year, we had something like five days when rain didn’t fall. This year, rain hasn’t been much of a problem. As I write this on June 29 tied to the dock in Port McNeill, the morning fog has burned off, the sky is blue, and the doors to the cockpit are open. The woman on the next dock is wearing a little black top with bare shoulders.
Fuel prices and boating.It’s no secret that fuel prices have gone up, and gone up fast. Fuel prices notwithstanding, boats are out cruising. Not many of them are going fast, however. It doesn’t take much power to move a boat through the water at speeds below hull speed, so it doesn’t take much fuel, either. Theoretical hull speed is 1.33 times the square root of the waterline length. If a boat’s waterline length is 36 feet, the square root is 6 and 1.33 times 6 is 8, or 8 knots. A much larger boat with a waterline length of 49 feet has a theoretical hull speed of 9.3 knots, which is faster, but not that much faster. A fleet of boats of varying lengths usually will be running 8 to 8.5 knots, with some a little slower and some a little faster.
Slippery hull forms take less power to attain hull speed than fat hull forms. If fuel prices remain in the $5.00-$6.00/U.S. gallon range, I wouldn’t be surprised to see new boat designs with finer entries and a little less beam, compared to the spacious but bluff-bowed and less efficient “push-waters,” as naval architect Bill Garden calls them.
Dynamite. At Squirrel Cove we were sort of forced to buy a copy of Judith Williams’ book, Dynamite Tales, which, we were assured, we would love. The book is a rambling history of Desolation Sound, held together by blasting. One of the chapters is titled “If two sticks are good, four are better.” Another chapter is titled “There is no problem a suitable amount of high explosive will not solve.” We love the book. It’s personal and funny (really funny), and honest and unaffected. When you’re up here, get a copy. You won’t be disappointed. $16.00.
P.S. We were warned that the copy editing is awful, which it is. Periods appear in the middle of sentences, things get repeated, tenses change, all sorts of errors and oversights your prudish high school English teacher would snip at. Somehow they don’t matter. If anything the book is richer because of them.
Port Neville. Port Neville is an inlet extending into the mainland, a short distance up Johnstone Strait from Sunderland Channel. Lorna Chesluk lives there, tending the post office at the government dock and serving as a social center for the few neighbors in the inlet. How much longer she will remain is a question. Her daughter Erica got married last March, and is living in Campbell River, where much of Lorna’s family is located. If you’re heading up the coast, don’t miss a chance to stop and meet Lorna and tour the old store. Lorna’s family has been there since the 1890s. It’s coastal history before your eyes. .
Lagoon Cove. As always, Bill and Jean Barber are packing them in at Lagoon Cove. Don’t pass up the happy hour get-togethers. Bill provides the fresh prawns, and people bring snacks up from their boats. The highlight is when Bill Barber starts one of his tall tales, usually involving a bear or two. Several times over the years, I’ve heard the one he told the night we were there, and I still had tears from laughter streaming down my cheeks.
As reported in the 2008 Waggoner, 15 and 30 amp power is available 24 hours a day, not only in the morning and evening, as before.
Kwatsi Bay. Daughter Marieke had gone out to Victoria so we missed her, but Anca, Max and son Russell were there. The docks have been expanded to hold a few more boats. A potluck got organized that evening, which gave the ships’ cooks a little break (they still had to come up with something, but not a whole meal), and encouraged us to meet one another. The gift shop is stocked up with interesting offerings. We bought a jar of vegetarian antipasto that is delicious on crackers. We should have bought two or three.
Echo Bay. As reported elsewhere, Bob and Nancy Richter finally sold Echo Bay and have retired. I’m sure the entire coast shares Bob and Nancy’s happiness at the change. With the change, Pierre and Tove (pronounced “Tova”) Landry have moved the Pierre’s Bay operation down to Echo Bay, which they will manage. New docks were being finished when we were there, and neighbor Bill Proctor has cut a trail through the woods so people can tie up at Echo Bay and walk over the Bill’s remarkable museum. There’s a completely new fuel dock, and the store was just getting under way.
Across the way at Windsong Sea Village, new owners are making improvements. Carol is still running her gallery, with its unique offerings. She and husband Jerry remain as managers.
Shawl Bay. The docks are good, and 30 amp power is available. The outlets are down low, next to the bull rails. We didn’t think power was available until Lorne pointed it out to us. Pancakes are served in the mornings. We ate too many, but what the heck. Auntie Jo no longer collects the moorage. Now in her 80s, she’s cutting back a little.
Greenway Sound. The doctors say that Tom Taylor has made an unprecedented 100 percent recovery from the heart infection he suffered last year. Tom agrees that it’s all due to his feisty nature. Ann isn’t doing well, however, and can’t stand for more than about an hour before she must lie down. A former employee called and asked if she could have a job for the summer, and Tom is excited about it. She was excellent before, and he hopes the same will be true this year. The store is well stocked, especially with fresh produce, and ice cream cones are going out the door.
Sullivan Bay. Chris and Deb, the managers, are friendly and welcoming. New owners have improved the docks and the electric power. The store is running. The restaurant has a new chef, replacing a couple who didn’t work out. Lots of visiting boats were at the docks.
Jennis Bay. The idea at Jennis Bay is to get off the boat and go for a walk on the logging roads. The dog loves to serve as guide. Allyson and Tom Allo and their kids Orion and Charlie Marie are excited about what they’re doing. Allyson grew up in Jennis Bay, where her father ran a shake mill. One boater told us the Tuesday evening gumbo is “to die for,” and they looked like the kind of people whose opinions can be trusted.
Sointula. The Sointula harbor is one of the prettiest and most relaxing stops around. The moorage is a working harbor, with fish boats coming and going and interesting people on the docks. The showers were spotlessly clean, and the laundry room has doubled to four washers and four dryers. The Burger Barn up next to the harbor office serves hearty hamburgers, wraps and french fries. It was so popular that my order, placed a little after 1:00 p.m., took nearly 30 minutes (they told me it would take that long, so it was okay).
Sointula water is fabulous. Our tanks are full. Alert Bay water is just as good, but I saw Alert Bay by car in May. We didn’t visit by boat.
One unfortunate note: Much of the charming two-lane road between the harbor and the village was recently resurfaced. Apparently in an effort to save a buck, the work was done not by a machine designed for the job, but by smoothing the new asphalt with a road grader, which did not work well at all. The residents are NOT HAPPY with the result, nor should they be.
Port McNeill. The boats still pour into Port McNeill for fuel, shopping, repairs and crew changes, although today the docks are somewhat empty. I guess I’m not surprised. It’s Sunday, and many of the stores are closed. The weather is summerlike and predicted to stay that way for a few days at least. I’ll bet the Broughtons are busy.
We went shopping yesterday, and I got in a wretched nine holes at Seven Hills golf course. If you’d like some barely-used Noodle golf balls, you can find several in the Seven Hills woods and tall grass.
Ray Rosback finally has his new Shoprite Marine, Fishing and Logging store. It’s been a year in the finishing, and the stock is impressive. Bruce Jackman has new docks and moorage at the fuel dock, with more moorage planned when the $7 million harbor expansion is completed. The laundry is clean and in excellent condition. Complimentary computer for internet and e-mail.
Tomorrow’s weather forecast is encouraging, and the tides shouldn’t be a problem. We’ve filled the fuel tanks. The water tanks will be topped off with good Port McNeill water. Tomorrow we round Cape Caution for Rivers Inlet and points north.v
July 15, 2008.
North of Cape Caution. We have left behind the security of calmer seas and friendlier locales. Once again we have gone north, around Cape Caution, to the central and northern B.C. coasts. Saying good-bye to kinder channels to the south is an important moment. The feeling is of casting off, of setting out, of facing the unknown armed only with a sturdy boat, a capable crew, and hopes that all will work out. Marilynn and I have done this 22 times in the past, 11 times north and 11 times south. This year’s northbound crossing wasn’t as anxious as our first crossing, but I’d be lying if I said we didn’t consider it carefully.
I’ll get to the mechanics of our Go, No-Go decision in a separate item. First, some thoughts about cruising destinations from south to north.
Unless the weather is perfectly awful, Puget Sound cruising is fairly straightforward. But the San Juan Islands, guarded by the Strait of Juan de Fuca and Rosario Strait, are very different from Puget Sound. The Canadian Gulf Islands, while different from the San Juans, are essentially the same, at least as far as challenges go.
Then comes Desolation Sound. The formidable Strait of Georgia must be crossed, and sometimes it can’t be crossed – at least in comfort. Once in Desolation Sound, though, you know you’re no longer south. It’s another world.
After Desolation Sound come the challenges of the rapids and the pleasures of the facilities along Cordero Channel. Cordero Channel is the introduction to life in the Broughtons farther north. After the rapids and a 12-mile run in Johnstone Strait (listen to the weather!), the Broughtons, with their remoteness, beautiful anchorages and friendly marinas, beckon.
At last we get to the big decision: Do we venture north of Vancouver Island or content ourselves with near-perfection in the Broughtons?
We go north. Beyond the north tip of Vancouver Island and around aptly-named Cape Caution, life changes as dramatically as it changed from Puget Sound to the San Juan Islands/Gulf Islands, again to Desolation Sound, again once more to Cordero Channel/the Broughtons. North of Cape Caution the living changes. Pete and Rene Darwin, at Namu, are genuine north coast people. They told us they don’t intend ever to live south of Cape Caution. Cape Caution is a defining place. Welcome to the next level of Northwest cruising.
Last night, after three straight weeks of tying to docks, we anchored. Not to disparage docks, but we’re not on vacation per se, we’re working. Facilities need to be toured and updated, photos taken, advertising commitments collected for the next year’s Waggoner. Where there are marinas there are people, and we do enjoy meeting with them. But three unrelieved weeks of people is enough.
After an eight-hour run (easy run this time) from Port McNeill, around Cape Caution, and ending at Rivers Inlet, we had the choice of putting into the high-quality Duncanby Lodge and Marina with its excellent docks and facilities, or anchoring down in Goose Bay, across from the old Goose Bay Cannery. We were tired. We decided to stop working and anchor out. All alone, swinging with the breeze, wavelets talking to the hull. Marilynn made a simple supper. I helped with dishes. We sat quietly and read. It was wonderful.
I’m writing this tonight from Frypan Bay, not far from the mouth of Fitz Hugh Sound, where we plan to be tomorrow. Today we visited and toured Duncanby Lodge and Marina and Dawsons Landing. We had an ample and tasty lunch at Duncanby, where passing boaters are definitely welcomed. You don’t have to stay the night. Although moorage, power and internet are upper-end and priced accordingly, prices at the excellent restaurant (breakfast, lunch, supper – they have to feed their fly-in fishing charter guests) are certainly in the ball park.
At Dawsons Landing, Rob Bachen is finishing a new, 132-foot-long float, which will stretch to the end of their water lease. The Dawsons general store has just about everything you might ever need. Young people from inlet lodges came in while we were there. Our beautiful blond waitress from Duncanby was one of them, and bought a couple Rivers Inlet shirts for herself. An attractive woman from one of the fishing lodges had a big plastic freezer bag filled with little baggies of booze orders, cash, and credit cards. Each baggie in turn, the order was placed, filled, and paid for. Rob Bachen loaded the orders on a hand truck and took them out to the waiting boat. When was the last time we have seen transactions like this?
Now it’s evening, and we’re down at Frypan Bay, a favorite spot where we’ve anchored in the past. We’re in about 60 feet of water, excellent bottom. No other boats. A bank of gray marine cloud has rolled across the sky from the west. Fog is predicted for tomorrow morning. Marilynn mentioned that the boat didn’t seem as cold as before, so we put a thermometer in the water. After 15 minutes the thermometer read 65 degrees F. We don’t trust the reading, but there’s no question the water in Frypan Bay is warm. We don’t expect it to last.
Go, no-go. It’s seldom a clearcut decision to set out for Cape Caution. West Sea Otter can be around one meter, and Egg Island and Pine Island seas can be rippled with a low westerly swell. But the tides can be wrong. A big ebb might be coming just when the boat will get to Cape Caution. Or some other disquieting event, such as an approaching low, or hot weather in the B.C. interior creating a brutal afternoon sea breeze.
This year, all the signals were good. A ridge of high pressure was hanging over the area. West Sea Otter was at 1.2 meters. Egg Island and Pine Island weather reports were encouraging. We did have an ebb beginning shortly after Cape Caution, but we were at half moon, and the range from high to low was only five feet. We left Port McNeill early and had a good crossing.
Pruth Bay & West Beach. A trail leads from the deluxe fly-in fishing resort at the head of Pruth Bay to stunning West Beach on the west side of Calvert Island. Tie the dinghy under the ramp that leads down from the wharf and walk north along the front of the lodge to the marked trail. The first short distance of the trail goes over tree roots and such, but the trail soon smoothes out and after a few minutes you’re at West Beach. Plan your excursion to return to the dinghy before 5:30, when the fly-in customers are back from fishing. The resort doesn’t want yachties interfering with their major business.
Namu. Namu’s docks have been moved to the south side of the old cannery. There are more docks now, and a better log breakwater. Pete and Rene (pronounced “Reenie”) told us the new location provides better protection from swells coming off Fitz Hugh Sound and the wakes from the BC ferry and passing cruise ships.
Every visit to Namu is a new and different experience. About the only constant is that Pete and Rene Darwin, the caretakers, are real north coast people, unsuited to living in the city. Think home-brewed beer, homemade wine, hand-rolled cigarettes, a greenhouse with home-grown vegetables, numerous planter boxes with herbs, a pair of ducks, the usual menagerie of cats and dogs, six grizzly bears hanging out in the area, a sawmill, a machine shop, fork lift trucks, a tractor, and heaven knows what else.
Fishing lodges winter store their guide boats in Namu’s abandoned warehouses. Port Boathouse in Port Alberni on Vancouver Island has built quite a business, equipping and servicing guide boat fleets with motors. Mike Hudson, the owner of Port Boathouse, was there. He told me that last year they were Canada’s largest Yamaha outboard dealer.
Dinner at Namu was bring your own to the barbecue shelter barge. Dinner wasn’t the only thing brought. Thirst must be quenched. By 7:00 p.m. things were pretty cheery. Rene provided dinner for a crew of 13 who were working on the guide boats. The rest of us included a couple from Quesnel, in the B.C. interior, who were living at Namu aboard their 24-foot boat for the summer. The husband was a retired carpenter, with multiple sclerosis. He does a little work around the cannery. Another couple, from Williams Lake in the interior, were on a McGregor 26 sailboat they trailered to Bella Coola, and were sailing for the summer. They just bought the boat, and were learning to sail. Seventy-one-year-old Zoe Roberts, the rather astonishing woman who told me about the “Maytag effect” of the waters off Kelsey Bay (“Lots of suds and no rinse cycle”) was there on her round bottom 33-foot converted troller, built in 1938. Between drags on her cigarette she said that the boat doesn’t rock and roll around Cape Caution, it’s more like a jitterbug. Zoe was on her way to the Charlottes – single-handed.
When things began to slow down Pete took me over to their float house, where he produced a beautiful bronze signal cannon. It was about a foot long, mounted on its own wooden carriage. It had been built the previous summer by a visiting boater from Vancouver, who just happened to have a metal lathe on his boat. The cannon was made on that lathe, from a length of bronze propeller shaft found at the cannery. Pete and I took the cannon and a five-foot-long potato gun made from PVC pipe back to the barbecue barge to entertain the assembled guests. Loaded with black powder, the signal cannon went off with a loud bang. We did it twice.
The potato gun took a few tries to work, as the hair spray propellant had to be just right for the spark to ignite. Then, with its own loud bang, it fired potatoes in fine arcs into the sky.
We had arrived at Namu a little before 5:00 p.m., and by 8:00 we were in sensory overload. It’s like that at Namu. Don’t go if you’re looking for five-star services, because there aren’t any. Don’t go if you aren’t ready to see things in a very relaxed way. If you are open minded and ready for the unexpected, Namu will fill the bill.
Ocean Falls. The docks are good, and have 30 amp power. The water is excellent. We fill our tanks at Ocean Falls. The winters are hard, though. They had nine feet of snow in two separate storms this year. The snow collapsed three houses in Martin Valley. We were told that two of the houses weren’t very good anyway. The snow collapsed the roof of the big co-op building in Ocean Falls, and forced Norman Brown (“Nearly Normal Norman Brown, they call me”), to relocate his museum of Ocean Falls artifacts to the second floor of the building that houses the marine ways. The snow also collapsed the bridge that went across the short river that connects the falls to the salt water. I shudder to think that large trucks used cross that bridge without concern. Now the only way to get from the town to the old mill site is by boat.
The wireless internet signal at the docks is weak. The signal is good in The Shack, at the head of the docks, and 120-volt land line power receptacles are available.
We had dinner at the lodge, a hearty meal of pasta slathered with tasty, heart-unhealthy sauce, baked salmon or sole stuffed with crab meat, vegetables, rice, tossed salad, homemade bread, and apple pie for dessert. It was too much for aging, sedentary yachties, but just right for the young helicopter logging crew who were there.
One house in Ocean Falls has been brought back. It has a new roof, new siding, new windows and new paint. The other houses are succumbing to the elements. The apartment complex whose windows once had fluttering curtains now has no curtains and for the most part no roof. It’s a fight. I think Nature is winning.
Shearwater. I know this report is getting long, but there’s a lot to report. Shearwater keeps improving. Except that they had a problem with the dock power, and shore power connections are limited. The electrician is supposed to be at Shearwater next week to replace all the power, with 30 amp installed out to the very ends of the floats.
We had dinner last night in the restaurant. The chef (“cook” would be the wrong term) just got here, but boy can he put out the meals. I had a big slab of prime rib with Yorkshire pudding, veggies and baked potato. Marilynn had salmon on a plank, with an interesting sauce. Because it’s a seasonal business, you don’t know from year to year how the various restaurants will be. This year, Shearwater is good.
Wireless internet is $10.50 for 24 hours. We have decent signal (two bars) half way out the main dock. Up at the restaurant this morning we still had two bars of signal.
The Shearwater shipyard is busy. A Krogen (I think it’s a Krogen) had a little run-in with a rock and lost a big chunk of fiberglass from the bow just below the waterline. A sailboat hit a charted rock at seven knots outside East Inlet, off Grenville Channel. The couple said they had anchored in East Inlet several times before, and simply were complacent when they left the anchorage. Complacency in familiar waters is a hazard all of us face. The impact rocked the keel back into the hull behind. The tiller broke, dislocating the wife’s shoulder and bloodying the husband’s face. The Coast Guard was fantastic, the woman told us.
It wasn’t until the boat was out of the water, however, that it was found that the broken fiberglass behind the keel left only the thinnest film of glass keeping the water out. It’s something like 100 miles from East Inlet to Shearwater, plus the trip up Douglass Channel to Kitimat and back to get medical help for the shoulder. They were unlucky to run smack into a clearly charted rock, but darned lucky to get to Shearwater without sinking.
Klemtu. Based on our visit in 2007, this year’s Waggoner entry about Klemtu is quite positive. I’m sorry to report that our visit this year wasn’t as positive. The dock is in rough shape, and the visitor center building shows the effects of a hard winter with no repairs being made. What welcome we got was not the “Hi, glad you see you” approach. One visit doesn’t make a trend, but each visit is important. Stop with an open mind and be prepared to move along.
Butedale. If you want to see Butedale you’d better get there soon. The famous cannery, now long abandoned, is collapsing. Rain and the winter storms and snows are doing the job. “Butedale Lou” Simoneau is still there as caretaker, and as long as Lou is at Butedale all is forgiven. Lou speaks with a decided French accent. Although 65 now, he’s strong and agile. He’s also able to do just about anything. Lou’s grandson Gordon, age 12, came down from Kitimat to spend the summer at Butedale. Gordon walked on rolly logs at the docks, offered to guide tours up to Butedale Lake, and astonished us with his abilities on a Yamaha keyboard up in the cabin. He’s a good kid.
Don’t expect nice docks at Butedale. They’re low and rough – very, very rough. But as noted above, with Lou Simoneau, all is forgiven. At Shearwater, before we got to Butedale, we chatted with some high quality southbound boats who had visited Butedale a couple days earlier. By high quality boats, think Fleming, think Nordhavn. They arrived at Butedale wondering what they had gotten into, and had such a good time they stayed an extra day.
We saw a Spirit Bear! The white Kermode bear, a black bear with a double recessive gene that turns the coat tawny white, was feeding on the beach at the head of the bay at Butedale. Finally. At last.
Hartley Bay. The fuel dock is busy, with a sign at the top of the wharf telling how to get service. A new aluminum ramp, with cover, connects the wharf with the floats. Up in the village, vegetation was growing high, especially in the childrens’ play areas we enjoyed watching last year. The deck on the front of the school is rotting and closed off with yellow ribbon. Part of the deck was built beyond the drip line from the roof. It rains a lot up here. Water, undirected, takes things back to nature pretty quickly. The little restaurant isn’t there. The operators moved to Prince Rupert.
The good news: Hartley Bay has Verizon/Telus cell phone coverage. It’s a good place to call the Prince Rupert Rowing and Yacht Club for moorage reservations.
Kumealon Inlet. Kumealon Inlet is at the north end of Grenville Channel, and if you don’t mind anchoring in 65-90 feet of water, it’s a good place to overnight. We had a good stay there. The big helicopter logging show in the outer harbor doesn’t create any problems. The helicopters are interesting, and are far enough away that they don’t intrude.
Prince Rupert. Rolly and sometimes uncomfortable, the Prince Rupert Rowing and Yacht Club at Cow Bay is the place to stay. Call ahead for availability and reservations. We called from Hartley Bay. JoLinda (I hope I spelled her name correctly), the caretaker and dock manager, said she couldn’t promise an inside slip, but when we got to Prince Rupert she had one for us. If you’re northbound and fail to call from Hartley Bay, Verizon/Telus cell phone coverage begins around Baker Inlet in Grenville Channel, and extends to Ogden Channel. I suspect it’s the cell phone coverage from the village of Oona River.
At the moment, Prince Rupert doesn’t have Verizon/Telus coverage, contrary to the report in the 2008 Waggoner. It’s a long story, and Serena, our telephone company contact in Prince Rupert, says the misinformation she gave us last fall was unintentional. She says the problem should be solved in a month or so, although cell phones will have to be updated back in the U.S. in order to work in Prince Rupert. Serena is a delightful lady and she’s so believable. Right now, I feel like Charlie Brown trying the kick Lucy’s football – which, despite promises to the contrary, Lucy snatches away just as Charlie Brown is kicking.
We had a wonderful supper at the Cow Bay Café in Prince Rupert, and an excellent lunch at the Crest Hotel. We were told that Rain, a few blocks farther uptown, is superb. Chances, the new casino located next to the Crest Hotel, is reputed to have excellent dining.
The Prince Rupert Safeway is outstanding.
Cruise ships are making Prince Rupert a regular call, flooding the streets with visitors. One couple stopped me and pointed to a treetop and asked excitedly, “Is that an eagle?” Since Marilynn counted more than 20 eagles in one place during out stay at Prince Rupert, eagles didn’t strike me as all that unusual. For someone from a faraway place, however, an eagle sighting was an important event.
We saw a total of three cruise ships dock, unload, reload and depart in our two days at Prince Rupert.
When we came in, the new container facility was loading a Chinese Cosco Lines ship with containers bound for China. The Prince Rupert facility claims to be two days closer to the American Midwest than any other U.S. port, and is revitalizing the town.
Shopping. From the beginning of our cruise, Marilynn has been looking for a few things left behind: a small salad spinner, a squeegee for the shower stall, “museum putty” to hang pictures without nails, and some other things she didn’t know she needed. She tried all the usual suspect stores along the way with no success. Then she found the Bargain Shop in Port McNeill and the Dollar Store in Prince Rupert. Between them they had what she’d been looking for, and at rock-bottom prices.
Boats are out cruising. The docks at Ocean Falls and Shearwater are busy. Namu had visiting boats. Butedale is up. Prince Rupert has had to turn away boats that didn’t have reservations. The world has not ended, at least not yet.
Weather. Despite the cold beginning, June weather was satisfactory. The low pressure areas that blew through during the past couple days found us at Shearwater, where we were scheduled to shop, do laundry, and change the engine oil. A high pressure ridge was forecast to build along the central and northern coasts, but the trip from Shearwater to Prince Rupert was mostly in fog, with rain. Things are improving now. Maybe summer will get here at last.v
July 22, 2008.
Lots of news in the Broughtons. We learned the following from Mike Plate, the assistant at Shawl Bay, while Lorne and Shawn were in Port McNeill to bring son Robbie back home. A couple weeks ago, Robbie had taken their water taxi boat to Port McNeill in rough weather, and was returning in quiet conditions. The last things he remembered were everything going black, then waking up beached on the rocks. His chin was bleeding from a deep gash, four teeth were loosened, and his ribs hurt. Robbie was able to call Lorne on the radio, and Lorne brought Robbie and the damaged boat back to Shawl Bay. Robbie had to spend several days in the hospital. Tests show that he has a blood sugar problem, and must eat only the right foods, several times a day.
The boat suffered considerable fiberglass damage, and the Honda outboard will require extensive repairs.
At Jennis Bay, a large wolf attacked Bravo, who is not a small dog. Bravo was saved, but badly injured. We were told that a visiting boater paid for a float plane to take Bravo to the vet.
At Greenway Sound, we are told that an eagle swooped down and picked up a dog. The dog must have been too large, or maybe it bit back. In any case the eagle dropped the dog in the water. The dog, we were told, needed treatment for the claw marks but will be okay.
At Sullivan Bay, they heard a plaintive cry from the water, and discovered a small fawn struggling to reach the floats. They reached in and pulled the fawn up. It was too weak to stand. The fawn was carried inside, dried, and covered with a blanket. Several phone calls resulted in advice to feed the fawn goat’s milk from a baby bottle, while rubbing its bum with a warm towel. Mother deer apparently lick the fawn’s backside while it feeds, bringing forth elimination. Goat’s milk and warm rubs had the desired effect.
The fawn was at Sullivan Bay for five days until it could be taken to a deer rescue habitat in Comox. During that time it became a pet, working its way into everyone’s heart. Debbie, the manager, shed sad tears when the fawn left. A photo of the fawn and a girl from a visiting boat is on the wall in the Sullivan Bay café. It’s easy to see how the fawn captured its rescuers.
As noted in a separate item on this web site, at Echo Bay, Pierre Landry and his business partner have concluded a two-year lease with option to buy the Windsong facility across the waterway. Carol and Jerry, the caretakers, will be there at least for the rest of the season, although I’m not sure just who will be doing what. Carol will have her gallery open this year.
Pierre’s at Echo Bay is roaring. The store is well stocked, the fuel dock is pumping, Tove (pronounced “Tova”) is her usual crazy self, and Pierre works 18 hours a day to keep everything going. The docks were full when we were there.
Lady Di’s Lighthouse Bakery remained at the original Pierre’s Bay location between Powell Point and Scott Cove, where it will be for the rest of this season. Order your sticky buns, breads, and pies today and they will be fresh-baked and ready tomorrow. Call Di on VHF 16.
Smoke notch. An experienced coastal mariner described speeding up as putting the throttle in the “smoke notch,” meaning wide open with smoke pouring out the stack. This morning another former coastal commercial mariner mentioned the “slow notch.” What wonderful terms. I hope I don’t wear them out.
Cape Caution. This year’s southbound crossing of Cape Caution made it a total of 24 times for Marilynn and me, 12 times up and 12 down. We learn something with each crossing. This year we approached Cape Calvert, the south tip of Calvert Island, in flat calm, with nothing but calm visible ahead. It was late afternoon, however, and the weather prediction was for 15-20-knot westerlies in the early evening. The BC Ferry Queen of Chilliwack was several miles ahead of us. I called the ferry on channel 11, the VTS channel for that area, told them I was considering crossing, and asked for a wind and sea condition report. They answered that they weren’t far enough out to report. A short while later the radio said, “Surprise, Queen of Chilliwack, channel one-one.” They had a report: three-foot moderate seas, 15-20 knot westerly wind. On the weather channel, the Egg Island lighthouse reported the same conditions. But where we were, the sea was oily smooth with nothing but calm ahead. Furthermore, the West Sea Otter buoy reported only 0.8 meter of swell and wind wave. As the Waggoner bravely notes, if West Sea Otter is one meter or less, logs could be towed across. We pressed on. Halfway across the mouth of Rivers Inlet the westerly, with its three-foot “moderate” seas, found us. After a few minutes of splashing, a big splash settled the matter. We turned back and made for Fury Cove – where, we found, the sun was shining and there was no wind.
We had a superb supper of salad, barbecued steak, baked potato with sour cream, crumbled bacon and chopped onion. Supper was in the cockpit, with the sun warming everything. First time this year. Elegant.
Next morning we were under way at 0530, first light. Little to no wind all the way around Cape Caution, over to Pine Island, and down to Quarterdeck Marina in Port Hardy. In the afternoon the westerly filled in. Hardy Bay was covered with grazing sheep (white caps).
Lessons learned: First, a predicted afternoon or evening westerly is should be counted on to meet predictions. Second, West Sea Otter must be viewed with the knowledge of the coming wind. Third, Egg Island and Pine Island lighthouse reports are given for a reason. Last, three-foot moderate is not moderate to us. With anything more than two-foot chop, we’ll probably wait.
Waddington Bay. We try to make most of our marina stops on our way north, with the trip south devoted to picking up loose ends and trying the anchorages. Right now the time is 6:30 p.m. We are anchored in about 35 feet in Waddington Bay, near the outer edge of the Broughtons. The westerly is blowing 15-20 knots with gusts to perhaps 25. Ten other boats are in the bay with us. All the boats are swinging back and forth, but the bottom is sticky and no one is dragging. The bay is almost fully enclosed. Despite the wind there are no seas. We expect the wind to die overnight and the morning to be quiet.
Later. A quiet morning took us down Johnstone Strait. That report will be included in next week’s installment.v
August 4, 2008.
Johnstone Strait. You have to be careful with Johnstone Strait. The mountains on the mainland and the mountains on Vancouver Island create a funneling effect that accelerates the cold ocean air moving in from the Pacific Ocean. Other areas may report 10-15 knot winds; Johnstone Strait might be recording storm force winds. To or from the Broughtons, morning is often the best time to make the necessary 12-mile run in Johnstone Strait. To get an early shot at the run, when we are southbound we usually anchor either in Burial Cove or Port Harvey. This year it was Burial Cove. The afternoon was growing late, and there was ample room. What if Port Harvey, another 30 minutes away, were full? (Later, we heard that there is much commercial activity in Port Harvey, making it less attractive.)
High winds had effectively closed Johnstone Strait for the preceding three days, but light winds were forecast for the next morning. At 0700 the anchor was up and we were under way. Already, at least six inbound boats had paraded past the mouth of Burial Cove, some with running lights still burning.
Out in Johnstone Strait, we were faced with a wall of boats coming north. The boats were large and small, sail and power. For three days they had gathered at Shoal Bay, Cordero Lodge, the Cordero Islands, Blind Channel, Forward Harbour, and Port Neville, waiting for a break. We heard that Forward Harbour, at the north entry to Whirlpool Rapids, held more than 60 anchored boats the previous night.
In answer to the concern about fuel prices killing boating, the approaching armada argued otherwise. We did note that the entire fleet was moving as one, meaning hull speed, even if higher speeds were possible. Boats burn so much less fuel when they go slow.
Summer at last. On July 21, six weeks and three days after leaving home, we found summer. We were in Desolation Sound, Prideaux Haven to be exact. The temperature was 78 degrees F, the water was warm, kids were jumping from flying bridges into the water, dinghies and kayaks were all around. We had avoided wind during the previous six weeks up the coast, but not rain, low-hanging clouds, and fog. Day after day of rain, low-hanging clouds, and fog. Day, after day . . . after day.
The sunshine felt wonderful. I put the 4-horse Johnson on the dinghy and Marilynn and I putt-putted through Prideaux Haven, Melanie Cove, Laura Cove and Roffey Cove. All were filled with boats, in some cases rafted five across. The Coast Range mountains were in our laps. Dramatic, cone-shaped Mt. Denman oversaw it all. It is not by accident that photographer Neil Rabinowitz chooses this area for boat shot assignments. For a flavor of Northwest cruising at its finest, nothing surpasses Prideaux Haven.
I mentioned kids jumping into the water. We hadn’t seen many kids up north. Maybe we had gone too early (school lasts deep into June), and maybe it’s too far. Given the glories of Desolation Sound, why bother? Desolation Sound scenery is exquisite, the anchorages are interesting, and there are no rapids to figure out. Not to mention the warm water. The kids can dive and splash and swim.
Thurston Bay Marine Park. Working south from the Broughtons, we followed the usual pattern of running Whirlpool Rapids and Greene Point Rapids one day, with Dent Rapids, Gillard Passage and the Yucultas the next. We stopped to say hello to Mark MacDonald at Shoal Bay (always entertaining), but we realized that it had been years since we had spent any time at Thurston Bay Marine Park, off Nodales Channel. So down Nodales Channel we went. We anchored sort of behind Block Island, in the mouth of the first bay that makes up the park complex. I say “sort of behind,” because after paying out a little more than 150 feet of chain, we weren’t as behind the island as I had planned. We were looking right out on Nodales Channel. Three other boats already were in the anchorage. A fourth boat came in around sunset and was gone shortly after dawn.
Well, the weather forecast was mild, and perhaps any wind that might develop would blow up or down the channel, but not into our bay.
We carry two outboard motors for the dinghy, the 4-horse Johnson that weighs 35 pounds and is easy to carry around, and a 15-horse Mariner. Both motors are stowed in the cockpit, the Johnson on the port side and the Mariner on the starboard side. The Mariner turns the dinghy into a real hot rod, but the motor weighs 85 pounds. It’s a real effort to move 85 pounds from the cockpit out to the swim step, then into the dinghy, then onto the transom. The reverse is just as challenging. I can complain that my advancing years play a part, and perhaps they do. But 85-pound outboards have always been an effort. Once in place, though, the Mariner sure makes the miles disappear. (We’re thinking about a boom to lift the Mariner and swing it between the cockpit and the dinghy, but the angles are awkward. Also, we’re having trouble with the appearance. We don’t want it to take away from the lines of the boat.)
My heroic muscles bulging for Marilynn to admire – wringing her hands is probably more accurate, hoping my back wouldn’t fail – the Mariner went on the dinghy, and off the two of us went to see the rest of the park. The little lagoon with the shallow, dogleg entry was the first destination. We nosed tenderly in, seeing no other boats. We bent around the dogleg turn, still no boats. We went further. Abruptly the lagoon opened up, and we counted five boats, anchored as snug as can be. Not small boats, either. Fifty-footers.
We left the lagoon and went around the peninsula and into Cameleon Harbour, where we saw one boat anchored behind Tully Island, and another boat anchored at the far end of the bay.
We found the wind when we motored out of Cameleon Harbour. It wasn’t big wind, just a bit of a breeze, and it created some waves – not big waves, but it doesn’t take big waves to knock our 11-foot Avon RIB around. Hang on, Marilynn. I twisted the throttle, and the bow rose as the dinghy climbed out of the hole. Then the bow dropped as the dinghy got over its bow wave, and we were planing. Our anchored boat was in the distance, and it got closer, fast. Well – fast and bumpy.
Our conclusion: Thurston Bay Marine Park is lovely, and probably overlooked. Carry a bell or some kind of noisemaker if you go ashore, though. We saw a large brown-furred bear. We weren’t able to see if it had the hump at the base of its neck that marks a grizzly bear, or if it was simply a brown-furred black bear.
About the breeze. It was local, and didn’t extend to our anchorage. We had a quiet night.
Bliss Landing. Next year’s Waggoner will contain a listing entry for Bliss Landing, located near the north end of Thulin Passage, the popular route from Lund to Desolation Sound. We’d always heard Bliss Landing was private. Earlier this spring, however, they contacted us to advise that visitor boats might find moorage. So we stopped to learn more.
Bliss Landing indeed is private, for the benefit of its property owners. To raise a little extra revenue, though, unused dock space is available. The concrete docks are excellent, with 30 & 50 amp power and potable water (no boat washing). Sparkling clean laundry and showers are ashore. Internet access is available, both wireless and land line. Lovely grounds.
Fred and Anne Stern are the managers. They monitor CB channel 22. Best to call on your cell phone, (604)483-8098.
One caution: there’s no protection from the westerly wind. If the westerly is blowing, it’s apt to be a rough ride.
Pender Harbour. When we’re on the east side of the Strait of Georgia, we usually tie up at the club outstation in Garden Bay. On our trip north, only one other boat was there. Coming south, the docks were full. Garden Bay itself was filled with anchored boats. Fisherman’s Resort in Hospital Bay was busy, the public dock at Madeira Park was packed, and the Garden Bay Hotel & Marina docks were well occupied.
Mike and Linda Duffy were tied across the dock from us. Mike is one of the more enthusiastic people you are apt to meet, and around 6:00 p.m. Mike decided dinner should be at the Garden Bay Hotel pub at the head of the bay. Some boats were already into dinner preparations and weren’t interested, but without too much effort Mike recruited three more couples, including Marilynn and me, to take their dinghies down to the pub.
What a great idea. Eight of us had dinner on the deck (good, too, and reasonably priced), and then at 8:00 p.m., surprise! – live music. The performer was Jerry Yuzon, who could sing, play guitar like crazy, and play a lively fiddle, too. He’s been doing a couple gigs at the pub each summer for 20 years. The place was packed with locals, and it rocked. I think I was ripe for a little relaxation, because, “Sure, I’ll have a little more wine.” I got out intact, but it could have been a close call. It also was the best evening of the trip. Gosh, I had a good time. Jerry Yuzon will be back for a final gig August 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, 20.
Strait of Georgia weather forecasts. Heading south from Pender Harbour, the forecast was for light southeasterly winds dying mid-day, and becoming light northwesterly in the afternoon. Cape Mudge, Chrome Island, Cape Lazo, Sisters Islets, Merry Island and Entrance Island all reported “nothing” winds. If ever there was a prospect for a quiet crossing, this was it.
Some quiet crossing. The light southeasterly didn’t die, it freshened. By the time we were halfway across, out in the middle with nowhere to hide, the wind had built to 15-plus. Worse, the wind direction shifted more to the east. Three-foot rollers developed, coming from just forward of the beam. We twisted, we crashed, we salted down the boat. Our objective was Northumberland Channel and Dodd Narrows, but to keep from rolling seaweed onto the side windows we had to work our way east, away from the protection of Northumberland Channel.
The weather report continued to lie about light breezes, despite the soaking we were getting. At last, we were able to turn west and put the seas more or less on our stern, and we got to the protection we longed for.
We were never in danger; the Tollycraft 37 is one of great seakeeping boats. Time and again, we’ve felt the hull handle ugly seas with ease and poise. The boat did well. It was the people who were uncomfortable.
We did have one amazing bit of luck. Slack, turn to flood at Dodd Narrows was predicted for 1:54 p.m. Without adjusting our speed in any way, we arrived at Dodd Narrows precisely at 1:54. Great planning? No. We departed Pender Harbour when we were ready to leave, with no intentions other than to get across the strait. Dodd Narrows simply worked out for us.
Remainder of the trip home. I remember when simply getting to the San Juan Islands was the high moment in my cruising life. To cross the border and go all the way up to Nanaimo, not to mention Desolation Sound and beyond, was more than I could imagine.
I say this to explain that the trip through the lovely Gulf Islands and San Juan Islands and down to Seattle was pretty much a non-event. We anchored in Montague Harbour, we tied up in Ganges to attend to some business, we crossed the border and we anchored in Blind Bay (Shaw Island) to visit with the Mason family at the Shaw General Store. The Strait of Georgia experience was behind us. The weather was mild all the way home.
As Marilynn and I have ventured up the coast these many years, our reference points have moved. On our way south, when we got to Port Hardy at the north end of Vancouver Island Marilynn actually thought we should be clearing Customs. She insists it was merely a fleeting thought, quickly corrected. Once we are south of Cape Caution, though, we feel we’re as good as home. It’s startling how perspectives change.
It was a good trip, rain and fog notwithstanding. Some years are like that. Radar, windshield wipers and cabin heat exist for a reason. We met some amazing people, including a Harvard University professor, and a Distinguished Professor from the University of California, San Diego. The coast is changing, as it always does. Some of it, such as the ruins at Butedale, is disappearing. We learn more with each trip. If you can manage it, go see for yourself.v
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