We are in McNeill now so I added a ton of pictures to this post. Go back and look!

August 19

Unless something happens, Margaret needs to be back in Vancouver by September 4th. That means we are likely winding up our trip to the Broughtons. And we still haven’t touched even the tiniest bit of what it has to offer. But we are trying. Man, are we trying.

We left Turnbull Cove close to slack this time. Real slack. I finally figured out my app was giving me data from close to Alert Bay, two and a bit hours away as the tide goes. Live and learn.

The big yellow trimaran that had pulled in late yesterday was already gone but we passed it just at the end of the narrows. Other than that the trip was a Powerboat Extravaganza. We saw more powerboats, usually in pods of two or three on this short trip than we’d seen in weeks. We all kept thinking there wasn’t going to be a berth available anywhere.

And apparently powerboats don’t practice rock avoidance. There is a big one at the end of Sutlej Channel that, according to my radar, 3 consecutive boats went right over. To my way of thinking, even if the chart datum says its safely below your keel, you still go around. But I guess I think like a sailor.

Speaking of radar, once we passed Sullivan Bay it was mostly foggy. Not foggy according to the weather because as they often say “Fog implies visibility of less than one (nautical) mile.” But visibility was not too much more than that and the clouds were really low. And what the means is the danger of low flying planes is quite real. Apparently the float planes fly between the islands and below the clouds on days like this. And if you have this big, 50-foot pole sticking up from your boat, you start to have some competition for air space. Well it sure felt that way.

Shawl Bay is an older marina that hasn’t been kept up to the standards of the others. The store is gone and everything is a bit rougher and a bit in need of a little tlc. But it’s got a lot of friendly inhabitants, some quite long-term, and at $.90/foot it’s affordable. And the more worn feel means the high-end monster boats are no where to be seen. I liked it.

And we hit Deep-fried Turkey Night. I baked up a couple of batches of biscuits as our contribution and had my first deep fried turkey. It wasn’t half bad, but doesn’t hold a candle to a traditional one. or t least the one’s I’m used to being served. Man, am I ever spoilt.

Afterwards we settled in and watched the Gilmore Girls finale. It wrapped it all up, but wasn’t the best ending of a series ever. Not sure what we will move on to next. I ripped the entire West Wing series and have 3 seasons of Jeff Daniels in Aaron Sorkin’s Newsroom, so we have choices.

August 20

Morning here at Shawl Bay begins with free coffee and pancakes. And that was one of the reasons I wanted to visit here. And they were good. Lorne and his (I think) daughter Tracey are the proprietors and they treat everyone well. I also discovered they bake fresh bread and pies so I picked up a loaf and some buns for later. It’s all on the honour system and you just settle up at the end of your stay.

We decided to stay another night rather than anchoring out one night before we had to head to our reservations at Pierre’s. That way we could get some chores done. I decided on BBQ maintenance. The amount of grease that kept dripping all over my transom was out of proportion to whatever I had been cooking so I figured there was some serious grunge buildup that needed attention.

So I disassembled what I could do easily and started scrubbing. Remarkably it came clean(-ish) rather quickly. Which just makes you want to scrub more to get it right back to pristine—something that I gave up after the second round of scrubbing. And then I started disassembling even more. Dave pointed out a grease trap I had missed and I unbolted the bottom plate to get at the subfloor. All-in-all it took a couple of hours and a bunch of elbow grease but hopefully it will be better now.

One of the downsides was that scrubbing all that metal resulted in about 6 or 7 ‘paper cuts’ on my fingers. Lots of sharp edges and the scrubbing motion made the slices inevitable. This just makes doing anything with my finger tips, or worse, cooking with any acids, pure hell. Thank god fingers heal fast!

After lunch we mounted the outboard and went for a dinghy exploration of Shawl Bay and the adjoining Moore Bay. I thought I saw a dolphin — there’s been a real dearth of them this trip — and we did see at least 3 seals involved in death matches with salmon. Good fishing here obviously.

At the far end of Moore Bay there is a forestry dinghy dock and a small recreation area with fire pits and picnic tables. And they had the most awesome cedar outhouse you’ve ever seen. And the old stumps here are huge. It would be so cool to see these giants before they were cut down.

On the way back we toured by the float homes that dot the coast of Shawl Bay. We’d met a few inhabitants last night at the turkey dinner and chatted as we putted by.

Back on the dock, Dave convinced me to join Happy Hour. I chatted with the couple off Grasal (Gregg and Jean) who were from from Calgary/Point Roberts. They’d been all over from Alaska to New Zealand and were quite friendly and shared a lot of stories. He climbed too, so we swapped a few tales.

Les visited the traditional book ’exchange’ and did her version of ’exchanging’ which bears a striking resemblance to hoarding if you ask me.

I made pork chops for dinner and then, as we had opted out of power for the first day, we enjoyed a warm solar shower and closed it down for the night. I hadn’t realized how lucky we were to have an opening overhead hatch in our shower stall. We simply leave the solar showers outside on the cabin top and run the hose down. Apparently the Shack has no such facility and Dave is forced to use his transom.

August 20

Once again it was pancakes for breakfast and we chatted some more with Grasal. Margaret has decided (quite sensibly) that free pancakes aren’t worth both the 8pm start and shivering in the now cooler mornings, but I managed to chivvy and prod Leslie into joining us.

We putzed around for a few more hours and then, around noon, we cast off bound for Pierre’s at Echo Bay for two nights and their famous pig roast. I had booked Nikki from Echo Bay EcoVentures for a tour of Village Island and some learning in native and natural history.

As we exited the bay we pulled out the sails and, to the great joy of all involved, sailed the whole way! From Shawl Bay to Pierre’s at Echo Bay is 8.3 nm on the most most direct route which is what we would have taken had we motored. with the sails up we covered 10.7 nm in total, eating all the way. It was completely sail powered except for but .7 hrs out of the almost 3 hour trip. Awesome stuff.

And to cap it all off as our last tack was bringing us almost directly into Echo Bay, a Humpback whale surfaced off our starboard side and the winds climbed to 14 knots. It was quite the exciting finale to a grand day. I managed to catch a little tail fluke on video.

Then we tied up and signed in. We picked up some tortilla chips and had baked nachos for dinner. Much more successful than last time.

August 21

Today is D & M’s 25th Anniversary. We did up a hand-drawn card, quietly wished them our best. That way M’s anonymity could remain reasonably intact.

We started the day as per usual and packed some gear for our trip. Rumour has it Nikki only has a small powerboat and it might get chilly. Nikki van Schyndel is a young-(ish?) lady who lives here at Echo Bay. When she was in her “lost years” she and a companion lived primitive in the Broughtons for a year. They gathered all their own food, built shelter and basically survived “in the wild.” The skill and knowledge she gained during that period she now uses to educate and tour people around. She spent 6 of those months on Village Ialand so we figured she’d be a great tour guide.

She has a 15 or so foot boat with a 50 horse in the back. It did 16-18 knots most of the trip. A way different way of seeing the waters around here.

In the way out she was listening to Channel 7 (the whale watching channel) and a friend of hers had spotted Orcasshe asked if we were interested. Duh. So we zoomed out into the strait and towards Malcolm Island. Along the way we spotted an immature eagle, a couple of porpoises and off in the distance, two separate humpbacks. It was an extravaganza.

And then we saw the orcas. Pod A5 to be exact (we figured that out a bit later with the help of some other watchers). There were 5 or 6. One in the lead, probably the matriarch, and the rest, including one big male with a monster dorsal fin, following behind. We killed the motor and watched them swim by. Sigh.

Then Nikki borrowed a jerry can of fuel from the Fonz (a whale watcher out of Nimmo) and we zoomed off to the humpback. He was magnificent. Apparently the auklets stir up the fish while diving for them and the fish create a ball as a defensive mechanism. Then the eagles and seagulls come along and pick off the surfacing fish and the whales come in from below. Nice system.

After our full of whales we caught up to the orcas for one last show. We stopped ahead and to the side of their path but a big schooner-sized sailboat full of eco-touriats with monster lens drove the whales almost directly at us. So we were treated to a bit of a beautiful parade as they streamed by at less than a 100 feet.

And then we were off. We stopped to float by a pictograph near the Chief’s Bathtub with its pictograph and Nikki pointed out an old burial site with a bentwood box still extant on the Star Islets. (There’s a government sign so it’s not a secret.)

Then we arrived at Village island. Nikki is pretty cavalier about the rocks and barnacles and we just off loaded right onto them. Then she anchored her boat a bit off and we headed into the bush. The village site has been empty since the 60s and not maintained at all in the last bunch of years. So what was fields when Nikki was here is now overgrown with blackberries and other head-high shrubs. So there wasn’t a lot to see, at least in terms of getting a sense of the lay of the village.

At one time there were up to approximately 12 or 13 long houses. The main supports for one remains. The story goes that there was a fire and they built this one hastily to house people. As a result it didn’t get all the fancy carvings and decorations and thus was never “collected.” There are also a few modern homes slowly decaying in the shrubs. The Chief’s house and the old school/infirmary loom out of the field of greenery as eerie as any haunted house you could find.

We picked berries (blackberries and thimble berries) and foraged for greens as we left the trail and strolled along the midden beach. You could see in the eroded banks, the metres and metres of old shells. It’s estimated that every foot is a hundred years so this village site is old. Really old.

Among other plants, Nikki gathered some Western dock, arrow grass (which tastes like salty cilantro), sedum, sea asparagus and more. Even some tasty mushrooms. Turns out her ’bible’ when she was learning was Plants of Coastal BC. Huh.

At the end of the beach we walked back up to the site and saw the last totem slowly fading away on the edge of the path. The wolf was still clear and you could make out the bear and face of the chief if you had someone to point it out. It’s beautiful and sad at the same time that these artifacts are slowly fading back into nature.

We loaded up and then headed back towards the Ridge Islets, which is where we’d seen the orcas a few days ago. We pulled up to a small islet with some flat rocks and Nikki proceeded to make us lunch. She gathered some firewood while we stripped the inner layer of cedar bark to fine threads. Then she made fire. It was so cool. She did the whole bow and spindle thing with a birds nest made from the cedar bark we’d stripped and everything.

  

Then she made lunch. A stirfry made from the mushrooms and greens she foraged, dried bull kelp and some dried salmon. The only addition was some precooked rice for filler. Then we ate it in clam shells with smaller shells for spoons. It was surprisingly delicious.

Nikki is a lovely soul. She talked to the whales as we watched them, spoke of her “arrangements” with the bears she had lived near and rescued a small blue butterfly from the salt water, dried it out in her boat and then left it on the small islet. And it was all pretty much unconscious. I’d like to be as connected as she was …

Soon enough it was 18 knots of zooming back to Pierre’s. We thanked Nikki profusely and and headed back to our boats to find something to make for the potluck portion of the pig roast. We settled on Leslie’s Famous Corn Meal Muffins as appropriately suitable for Pierre’s Famous Pig Roast. I did up the batter and then left it to her to wrestle with the oven. That way I was innocent of any burnage or rawness that might occur. Sneaky huh!

The pig roast was fun. We were unfortunately table 9 of 9 so the potluck pickings were slim and seconds on the pig was also slim to nonexistent. But it was good. Roast pig is a lot like pulled pork. It’s a more “beefy” texture than ham or pork chops. Or maybe it was like turkey dark meat? Different anyway. We drank our last bottle of wine and enjoyed the evening.

Then it was bed time. The thought was to visit Billy Proctor’s museum before we cast off so it might be an early-ish day.

Turnbull Cove

Aug 17
We pulled out of Sullivan Bay and headed across Sutlej Channel heading for a charming anchorage somewhere. It was once again calm so there was very little hope for sailing. A short motor brought us to the faster water off Watson Point. My app betrayed me for the first time as it said slack was at 12:50. Well it was just after 12:50 and it sure as hell wasn’t slack. We slipped and slided along the narrow channel in about 1 or 2 knots of current that seemed worse because of the eddies.

As we emerged Dave suggested we forgo Kenneth Passage and it’s even faster water and settle in at Turnbull Cove. I agreed but wanted to have a look at Kenneth. To see what it’s frequency was… We motored over and went through the first bit with 3 or 4 knots pushing us. As I entered the middle part of the passage I decided to turn back. Then I had to motor against the current, running at close to 7 knots but barely going 3.5 over ground.

Then we headed across to Turnbull. R Shack was just setting their anchor and we tucked in between them and shore. For the first time since we left Smuggler Cove the sailboats outnumbered the powerboats. But I’m not sure it will last. As I sit here at 8 pm the count is currently powerboats: 5, sailboats: 6. But that’s as close as it’s been for weeks. A lot of powerboats up here.

We are thinking at least two days here. There is a trail up to a lake and we might give it a try tomorrow. And there are places we can reach by dinghy as well. Time to save some cash!

The bill at Sullivan came in at over $400. In that there was moorage, power, two meals, fuel, some supplies, a few delicious turnovers and an expensive but nice long-sleeved T-shirt. Moorage itself worked out to only $36/night but the extras killed. Can’t afford to do that too many times.

Anyway, we dropped anchor and sat for a while in the afternoon sun. I spent a couple of hours writing a 4000 word post to catch up the last week or so (I guess it was longer than that!). No internet at all here, so we will have to wait and see when I can post it. While I wrote, Leslie headed out for a row and explored the east end of the Cove.

Then I started supper: we had that fresh salmon Oceanus III had donated and we were excited to give it a taste. I scaled it on the transom and then rubbed tons of salt into the skin with a touch of pepper. Then I seasoned the other side with a bit of sage (I didn’t bring any thyme!) and inserted some slices of garlic into the meat. Yes, it was that thick. After I crisped the skin on high heat on the BBQ, I doused the meaty side in lemon juice and then flipped it over to cook on low. Down in the galley I sautéed onions and celery while I boiled some carrots. I dumped in a bunch more slices of garlic, and then I added the cooked carrots and some green onions with a bit of soy and lemon juice. Miracle of miracles, it was all done pretty much at the same time. And I didn’t over-do the salmon: delish.

After dinner I cleaned the BBQ, Les started dishes. Well, she started them after she finished her book. I had made her stop for dinner with four pages left in Michael Crummey’s Sweetwater. I’m a pretty mean guy.

The iffy water in the tank means we are adding bleach to the rinse water now. I don’t think it’s strictly necessary but I don’t want any intestinal trouble whilst stuck on a small boat. Yech! They said about half the people drink it as-is but they are obligated to post ’boil for 2 minutes’ notices because they really have no way of testing the water to the provincial standards.

Leslie made me some hot chocolate and we are sitting out in the cooling night air enjoying a slowly setting sun and listening to various heaters, generators and engines. People do like their creature comforts 🙂

We saw the stars for the first time this trip. Sigh.

Tax Dollars at Work
Yesterday the Coast Guard paid a visit. They sent in a RIB (rigid-hulled inflatable boat) with 3 Fisheries officers. In what I consider an ironic turn, the Coast Guard in Canada is a civilian organization and not armed whilst the Fisheries officers were all packing a sidearm. Because of them unruly mackerel.

Apparently the Fisheries guys are now standard issue on the two big Coast Guard patrol boats. It used to be they would just catch an occasional ride, but now they are full time. I guess the RCMP also tag along sometimes to ensure that if they catch anyone doing anything, there is always someone with jurisdiction. Nice enough guys. Turns out my brand new extinguishers aren’t legal though… Still need to be inspected. Who knew?

Aug 18
Up and at ’em. As per usual, first one up (me this time) boils water for coffee and tea. I also headed on deck and took down our LED anchor light. Then I got out the raisin bread for toast. Morning rituals!

We spent the AM doing pretty much nothing. It was great. Leslie and I then took a low tide recon of the trailhead up to the lake. We had arranged to do the hike in the PM with Dave and Margaret.

There were a couple off a familiar deep blue double-ender called something Parrot walking their two labs. We’d last seen them at Sullivan. In fact at least 3 of the boats here, excluding us, had been at Sullivan or Pierre’s. It’s a small community.

We walked for a few minutes in the mud and rocks of low tide and checked out the steep hill, then headed back for lunch. A big bowl of Chef Boyardee’s best and a toasted roll and we were good. So we lazed a bit more.

I packed a fleece, raincoat, water, insect repellent, chocolate, socks and my Mocc’s (shoes) in preparation for the hike. In actuality it’s pretty short and the weather was gorgeous so all that was pretty much a waste. Still…

We swung by the Shack and joined D & M rowing towards the trailhead. The tide had come up and was still rising so there were some options on how best to tie up the dinghies so they’d still be there when we got back. Dave opted for a high-water log and I settled on tree overhanging a rock ledge on the edge of the small bay.

This trail is an old logging chute and there was an old rusting steam donkey in the trees still in (relatively) good shape. These were used to haul logs down the slopes to the water. Lots of old rusting steel cables everywhere as well.

The start of the trail is up. And steep. But we took it slow and it wasn’t too bad. Pretty short all things considering, so the out-of-shape among us were merely out-of-breath at the summit rather than falling-over exhausted. This group, incidentally, did not include Margaret nor Leslie. Huh.

The trail then headed down hill to the lake on a gentler and shorter slope, which made the return trip a breeze. At the lake there is a short dock out to a floating platform for swimming off of, or just hanging out on. So we hung out. The sky was clear and the water like glass. It was a pretty sweet way to enjoy the afternoon. At one point both Dave and I were privileged enough to see the high speed tumble of an osprey as it fell from the sky and disappeared beneath the surface who’re popping back up with something glittering in its talons. The Broughtons keep giving us these moments that make the trip so worth while.

The trip back to the boat was easy and retrieving the dinghies was reasonably easy although each of our methods of tie-up had its flaws. I had to scramble through the bush to get my dinghy but Dave had some difficulty getting his close to shore. I called it a draw.

The previous night we had been sympathetizing with a very hoarse bird that kept calling. Just before I retired, I spotted it and it turned out to be a small seal that was continuously circling the Cove croaking. We were careful not to say it out loud, but the lack of other seals and the plaintiff nature of the call indicated something sad had happened. This continued through the next day with the small seal visiting all the boats and every nook and cranny of the cove, diving and surfacing to croak every couple of hundred yards.

But when we were returning from the hike, Dave and Margaret spotted an adult seal in the water behind them. And later as we were enjoying a beer on R Shack we spotted the big seal head bobbing off the port side with the little head a few feet away. And no more croaking. That was nice.

Dinner was sausage in lemon pasta and I had popcorn for dessert. Then we watched some tv on the laptop (only two episodes left of Gilmore Girls), I put out the anchor light and we crashed for the night. Tomorrow we head out… Maybe a marina (Shawl Bay) or maybe Moore Bay for an anchorage. We need to be at Pierre’s on Saturday.

Man, I love the Broughtons.

I am playing catch-up here since I haven’t had time or energy to write much. This might read more like an itinerary than a blog entry but c’est la vie. When last I put finger to keyboard we were in Big Bay on Stuart Island. And so I start again from there.

Big Bay Redux

Aug 6

We woke up and cast off. Just outside of the Bay is the doubleheader of Gillard & Dent Rapids. We were off early, so we milled a bit and watched the braver, more powerful powerboats go through. Then we were off. As per usual, transiting the rapids at slack was a non-event and we were soon motoring away.

We had decided not to push it, so we went as far as the Greene Point Rapids, just outside of Blind Channel, and decided to anchor out in “Cordero Cove.” This area marks the crossover point from the Dreamspeaker’s “Desolation Sound” book and their “Broughtons” book, so we were officially on our way.

####Cordero Cove
Aug 6
We dropped anchor amidst the bull kelp in the SE bay behind the Cordero Island. This was our first real wilderness anchorage and it was lovely. Later in the evening two more boats joined us there. I believe the sun even came out a bit and we enjoyed a serene evening.

Blind Channel

Aug 7
The next morning, in the mist and coolness, we transited the Blind Channel Rapids, which are nothing to speak of, and stopped at the Blind Channel Resort to fuel up. A quick splash-and-dash and we waited off in the channel for R Shack Island to do the same. Then it was back through the Blind Channel Rapids and north through the Greene Point Rapids at right about slack.

This was the first time we had spotted Comme Je Trouve, an American-flagged, 50- or 60-foot Ocean Alexander (BIG, luxurious powerboat). But it wasn’t the last. They were tied up at the docks with a lot of other big yachts and I noticed them mostly because French is an odd language for a U.S. boat.

Whirlpool Rapids
A bit later that day, after we had made our way halfway down Chancellor Channel, we decided to turn north and transit the Whirlpool Rapids even though it was quite a few hours before slack. It was an ebb tide so the current was going with us and we hit 10 knots of SOG (speed over ground) at one point. Given we were doing around 5.5 through the water, that’s quite a boost. We were followed through by another sailboat, a Catalina 40 or 41 called Oceanus III, who passed us a bit later and beat us to Port Harvey.

Johnstone Strait
We had gone north through Whirlpool to minimize our Johnstone Strait time and to see some new territory. But in the end, Johnstone was foggy but benign. We even raised our sails and did some wing on wing in the fairly calm SE winds.

I couldn’t, however, get my radar to work, which was a bit of a pain in the fog. But I stuck close to R Shack and there was no issue. Eventually we dropped our sails and motored up Port Harvey on East Cracroft toward the Port Harvey Marina

Port Harvey

Aug 7
We had been hoping to top up water and batteries here, but the generator was out, water was low, and they were no longer taking garbage. This, except for the power, became a theme. Tied up on our finger was the Comme Je Trouve and Sue and John from Oceanus III. Sue and John are great and friendly people, and we talked boating for a while. They said not to worry about Whirlpool (they had heard our discussion on the radio) because as long as you have the current on your side it’s rarely an issue.

The docks were full, but Dave had made reservations so we were good, although R Shack Island did get stuck out on the end with the big powerboats. We decided to indulge in pizza at the Red Shoe restaurant. We had missed it last year, so wanted to give it a try. The menu rotates so we were lucky to hit pizza night. You have to pre-order so they know what to make. The pizza was yummy!

Lagoon Cove

Aug 8
The next morning we were up and off. Our destination was only a kilometer or so away as the crow flies, but 12 nm by boat. Still, a short day. To get to Lagoon Cove you need to transit Chatham Channel and the Blowhole. Chatham Channel is a long, narrow channel with a deep centre and shallow banks. To successfully navigate it you use the range markers at either end. Range markers consist of two offset markers. As long as the two markers line up, you are on course. As you deviate from your course, the markers no longer line up and you know you need to correct. It’s pretty simple but fairly nerve-wracking nonetheless.

The Blowhole, despite its ominous name, is simply a narrow channel. Not too many rocks and lots of depth.

Once again, tied up at Lagoon Cove was Comme Je Trouve. I had an opportunity to ask about their boat name and it turns out it is the family motto. I’ve forgotten their last name but it was distinctly English. I might just look it up when I get reliable internet.

Lagoon Cove usually hosts a prawn happy hour, but someone had donated some salmon so they were planning on a full-fledged potluck. We weren’t up to it so bowed out and enjoyed a quiet evening. Dave and Margaret, on the other hand, were “auditioned” for the role of buddy-boat by another couple but they had to demure because they were stuck with us (just kidding).

Potts Lagoon

Aug 9-10
When we set off the next morning, Dave suggested a spot just down Clio Channel called Potts Lagoon. It has two bays and lots of anchoring room. As we headed away from Lagoon I glanced over my shoulder and saw the spout of a whale in the entrance to Blowhole. Maybe that’s why it carried that particular moniker. I saw it two or three times more, but we were too far away to see anything else. But it was definitely a whale. Then it was a short day of motoring and soon enough we were swinging in the larger of the two coves.

While we were anchored there, Dave unfortunately found out that his main water tank was empty, or so he thought. After searching for the the problem he could find no obvious cause and then discovered his other tank was dry too. This was a bit too much coincidence. Further investigation revealed that the tanks were still, in fact, full, but his water pump had given out, leading to a lack of water flow. A few emails and phone messages later and he found one in Port McNeill. He also found that Pierre of Pierre’s at Echo Bay was actually in Port McNeill and was more than willing to pick it up and transport it to Echo Bay. Problem solved, and our next destination determined.

Leslie went out for a long row and immediately went out of sight. Forty-five minutes later I still couldn’t see her and was thinking of calling in the marines. But soon enough I spotted her rowing down the small channel to the south of us and she arrived safe and sound back at the boat.

The second day, we unshipped the outboards and went for a bit of a tour of the coves and islets. Turns out Comme Je Trouve had joined us but had decided to anchor in the smaller of the two coves. We jokingly decided we should ask them where we were all going next. We stopped off on a small barnacle and shell beach and picked shells and watched the waves lap up before we headed back to the boats. The water was super calm in Clio Channel so Leslie and I opened up the throttle on the 8HP on Laughing Baby‘s transom and zoomed around for a few minutes. It was the first time we had been able to really open her up. Fun.

Beware Passage

Aug 11
THe quickest way to Pierre’s is through Beware Passage. It features tons of rocks and shoals and the prescribed route is a zigzag through some small islets and narrow channels. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, the narrow bits were a breeze compared to the fairly wide channel out in the middle of the passage that took you between two hidden rocks. You have to put a lot of faith into your chart plotter and chart-reading skills. But we all survived the transit accident free.

Village Island
A little later we stopped in the small bay on Village Island. This is the site of one of the last big potlaches in the 1920s after they were banned by the government. Most of the regalia and ceremonial accoutrements were confiscated and only recently (in the 80s) returned to the natives. They are now housed in a museum — the U’Mista Cultural Center — in Alert Bay where we hope to visit them later in the trip. Margaret also had a relative who taught in the village so she — and so do we — wants to come back. But the water pump calls…

Orcas
As we left Village Island we crossed Knight Inlet heading for Spring Passage and just off to starboard I spotted an orca sticking his massive head straight up out of the water. We turned towards him and idled the engine. There were two, a large one and a small one. After we got a bit closer I turned off the motor and we sat on the bow and watched them spyhop and swim for 10 or 15 minutes before they moved off down the Inlet.

It was amazing and our first orca sighting in the wild. All because Dave’s waterpump gave out. What an awesome opportunity.

Pierre’s at Echo Bay

Aug 11
We pulled into Pierre’s and tied up. Moorage is pretty cheap up here but power and things like showers and laundry are outrageous. Justifiably so since it all needs to be generated. So we decided to forgo power to save some cash since we had motored quite a bit and had hot water and full batteries. The water here is iffy; it is actually brown from the cedar tannins in the lake, so we didn’t top off the tanks. Garbage was limited to pop cans and wine bottles, so we couldn’t get rid of any trash either.

Dave picked up his pump and got it installed. We decided to stay just the one night and come back next week for Pierre’s famous pig roast. It was on the tick list as a ‘must do’ so we had to pick a Saturday. This way we could head out for a week and then swing back as we slowly headed to McNeill. Turns out that weekend is also Dave and Margaret’s 45th anniversary.

Lady Boot Cove

Aug 12-14
Lady Boot Cove (so named because it is shaped like a lady’s boot) was also on a few people’s wish list so, since we were looking for a few days’ anchorage in the Broughton Archipelago proper, we decided to make it our first choice. There was also Joe Cove and Waddington Bay as backups if it proved to be full.

Heading down Fife Sound in the mist, Dave decided the wind was good enough to sail and Leslie followed suit. But unfortunately when we went to pull out the mainsail, we tugged on the out furling line instead of the outhaul and jammed the sail. We then proceeded to make it worse. So for the next 20 minutes while Dave tacked back and forth we wrestled with the jam in the main, slowly moving it up the mast until it was almost unjammed except for the last 12 inches. Unfortunately that meant we couldn’t bring the sail back in at all. For a brief moment, I thought we were going to have to sail to McNeill, because we wouldn’t be able to anchor with the full main still up.

Eventually I decided to just drop the sail. This is something you don’t do with a furling main unless you intend to take the sail right off. And I’d never done it, or even seen it done, but what the hell, a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. It came down ok, although my flaking job was not up to anyone’s minimum standard. Once the jam was within reach, a pair of pliers fixed that problem. Then all we had to do was haul it back up again, which also proved to be a learning lesson. All in all we got it done successfully, but I would rather not have learned in the middle of a foggy channel. Next time we will plan our screw-ups better.

We got it all fixed just as R Shack dropped her sails and few miles of motoring further on we reached the cove. There was only one boat there and we figured we could squeeze two in more pretty easily. The big issue was the commercial crab traps that limited our swinging room.

We dropped first and after some fussing were comfortable with our spot. *R Shack didn’t like their first location so up-anchored and moved further out before trying again. A little later that evening another boat actually squeezed in between us, so I guess there was room for four.

For reasons that I will likely talk about later, this was a very sad day for us. That little anchorage at Eden Island will be one of those touchstones we all collect But I am so glad we decided to stay an extra day.

Midden Beach
The next day we once again broke out the outboards and decided to explore. One thought was to head to Joe Cove and see what it was like. It was under a mile as the crow flies, but turned out to be a bit too far for comfort by dinghy. About a quarter of the way there, we spotted two white midden beaches on the far shore of Insect Island and altered course.

As we approached we spotted a few kayaks and a sign welcoming us and asking us to respect the First Nations land we were about to enter. Midden beaches are, in case you don’t know, a site where the natives over hundreds of years gathered to harvest and eat clams and oysters and whatnot. The white beaches are made up of millions of pieces of broken shell and bone. It’s really quite incredible.

We tied up the dinghies alongside the kayaks and canoe and scrambled up a small trail in the dense shoreline growth that opened up to reveal a gorgeous cedar and fir forest. It had been logged some time in the past, but it still retained a few giants and all of the mysterious beauty of the west coast. We strolled along hugging trees and marveling at the lush growth and generally soaked in one of the world’s greatest marvels: a healthy and lush ecosystem thriving. It was tremendously peaceful and calming.

We chatted with a pair of canoe-ers (women) whom I had seen a couple of days earlier at Pierre’s They had a great canvas cover for the canoe that kept everything dry and reduced windage while they were traveling. Almost like the bibs that kayakers used. We also chatted to the kayakers who were camped there. They had come all the way from Telegraph Cove and had seen all sort sorts of wildlife like whales and bears.

We stayed until we had drunk our fill and then clambered back down to our tenders and pushed them off the beach. These are the places that make a visit to the Broughtons so special.

We followed the shore of Eden Island for a bit more, marveling at the trees and huge pieces or weather-worn granite, before we headed back to the cove and our boats.

Wells Passage

Aug 14
Water was becoming an issue so we decided to head for Sullivan Bay. Last year when we had stopped they had super clear water and since the sun had been gone, we wanted some power for the water heater.

It was another foggy day as we headed down the last part of Clio Channel out into the Queen Charlotte Sound. We had opted to go that route despite the fog for the off chance we would get some wind.

We were disappointed. At one point I saw some ripples and the wind gauge was registering 6 knots and climbing, but it proved futile and we had to furl everything in again. Still our patience paid off as we decided to stay outside the Polkinghorne Islands and eventually we were treated to 10-12 knots, even if it was on the nose. Out came the sails, off went the motors, and we had a really nice sail for a little under an hour.

Humpbacks
While sailing, I thought I spotted a big splash way ahead in the distance. A little while later I was positive I saw a spout of water. I even had Leslie staring ahead, but we saw no other signs.

But a couple of tacks later, right after we started the engines and furled the jib, I spotted out of the corner of my eye the black mass of a humpback breaching dead ahead. At the same time the radio went off with Dave yelling “Whales!” There were indeed two humpbacks feeding off the rocky islets at the entrance to Wells Passage. A huge flock of seabirds indicated where they, and presumably their dinner, were and it was easy to track them. We shut down our motors and tried to use the main sail to keep us on station.

We were treated to the sight of two huge creatures bobbing and spouting, oblivious to anything but their dinner. Leslie was beside herself as she knelt on the bow. It was another one of those gifts. We watched for over a half an hour as they followed whatever they were eating until they slowly moved away. We fired up the engines and prepared to motor up Wells, but as we looked back, the show continued with bigger breaches and lots of incredible displays of their massive and distinctive tails. Leslie was absolutely flabbergasted that we would be heading the other way rather than spending the day just watching.

Sullivan Bay

Aug 14-17
An hour and a bit later and we rounded the small island that protects the Sullivan Bay Marina. Cody was there to grab our lines and welcome us there. We also found our old friends Comme Je Trouve and Oceanus III tied up there. Unfortunately when we had been in Sullivan Bay in June last year the water came from the spring. This year the spring dried up in early June and they were on lake water. But we had to fill, so now we are drinking bottled water until at least Port McNeill. (But at least we can wash dishes and shower.)

We missed the prime rib at the restaurant on Friday, but they were promising ribs on Sunday, so we took a vote and decided to hang for three days. It would be a nice break, and Sullivan Bay is a great place with really friendly people. Chris and Deb, the managers, are ex-pat Albertans (Debbie is from Radway, AB, and has some distant connection with the magnificent C.) and run a great place with lots of fun and friendly thrown in. Deb even offered me a job next year: free power and moorage and $1800 a month. It’s really tempting. The whole place runs on just five staff and they keep hopping from May to September.

We didn’t do much for the next few days. I went to a couple of happy hours and chatted. They have a nightly golf tournament where each boat gets two balls and you tee off a platform to a floating hole. Get it in the hole and you win free moorage. Closest shot of the night gets a free turnover. I won a turnover two nights out of three. It pays to be a bad golfer: the weirdness of the situation doesn’t throw you.

We met a lot of friendly people, Americans mostly. The Broughtons are full of both Americans and powerboats. Canadians and sailors are a distinct pair of minorities. And there are some truly magnificent yachts with 50 to 70 feet being pretty common and a few into the 80s and 90s.

We chatted a lot with Sue and John from Oceanus III, and Sue promised us some salmon since we weren’t fisherman; it seems they had a freezer full. But lucky us, John caught a big spring salmon on Sunday morning and we got some fresh that we will save for Monday. Very generous.

Fishing is huge here. The kids spend the day on the docks catching small halibut, hake and something else. It’s all catch and release, but the one kid we watched must have caught 15 or 20 fish the day we chatted with him. As for the adults, well, the tenders on these motor yachts are generally full-fledged fishing boats and they go out everyday.

Sunday night was Rib Night and we joined Dave and Margaret for a nice sit-down meal. It was delicious. There was a bit of excitement that evening as an older woman fell and ripped open her lip. Margaret, a retired nurse, cleaned it up, but Chris decided to take her into Port McNeill just to be safe. It’s pretty close with the souped-up powerboat they use. Turns out it was the best decision as the woman’s injury would likely have scarred pretty badly if left to heal on its own.

The next morning (the 17th) we fueled up and cast off. Time for a few days swinging on the hook. We will either head to Turnbull Cove or go a bit further and brave Kenneth Passage into Mackenzie Inlet. Then it will be time to head back towards Pierre’s, probably stopping at Shawl Bay.

And that is that. All I need now is some internet.

When last we left our intrepid heroes they were languishing without fresh water and power in an isolated cove surrounded by purported smugglers and brigands.

We awaited the imminent arrival of friends Dave and Margaret of R Shack Island fame with anticipation. But just across Welcome Passage lay the white sand beaches of Thoramby island and Bucaneer Bay. And they beckoned us. So we loaded up Laughing Baby and head out into the choppy water of the Passage to see what we could see.

 It was a rough and bumpy road but worth it. You drag the dinghy up on this long sandy beach and can walk across the spit to stare out at the Strait of Georgia. Kids and dogs frolic and adults stroll along the sea shore and it’s actually pretty idyllic. We hadn’t brought anything to anchor the dinghy with and the tide was rising, so I didn’t want to wander far. But it was a pleasant way to spend an hour or sound the sand was warm enough in aces to burn your feet. One fellow had even beached his big powerboat on purpose so he could clean the bottom. Fun stuff.

Back in the Baby we cruised the bay sightseeing and slowly made our way back to the boat. R Shack was due in and we needed to show them all the best moorages we had scoped out. When they arrived, I met them at the entrance and pointed out a few choice places to stern tie. Dave did a much better job of dealing with the current than I had a few days earlier. Since I was already afloat, I grabbed their stern line and ran it through the ring on shore for them.

Once they were settled we invited them over for a beer and to show Margaret the Never for Ever. A pleasant visit ensued. They delivered me a new solar shower as we had lost the other one overboard in the shenanigans sailing out of Nanaimo.

Unbeknownst to me, I had scraped the stern of the port pontoon on a barnacle and put a small tear in it when leaving the rocks after threading R Shack’s stern line. So later that evening, when I glanced back at the Laughing Baby she was sagging quite a bit. I decided to pump her up again and pull the motor off just in case. I’d wait to try and find the leak until our next port.

Up and at ’em

The next morning we cast off to head for Texada or Powell River, we just hadn’t decided yet because we were practicing breezy. We fired up the iron genny’s (i.e. the diesel engines), raised anchor and cast off, heading out of the cove and in a generally northern direction. R Shack set the pace at a practical 2200 rpm and we motored merrily alongside snapping pictures of each other.

Eventually the wind came up and Dave radioed over he was switching to sail. I agreed and we were off in what soon turned out to be 20 knot winds. Check out my earlier post on neverforever.ca for the details.

Soon enough it was time to decide on a destination. R Shack had laundry and we wanted a few more provisions so we decided on Westview Harbour (Powell River). It’s a crowded place, they don’t take reservations and you generally have to raft, so we were a bit trepidatious. We were hoping to at least get one spot on dock and be able to raft to each other. But when Dave called ahead it didn’t look likely.

As it turns out, we lucked in to a great spot. When I called in on 66a from outside the breakwater a spot had just opened up so Never For Ever, being the bigger boat, went in first and tied up to the dock. The Shack followed us in and then tied up to our starboard side.

I didn’t t want to cook that night so I bullied L into eating out and Dave talked Margaret into it as well. On his recommendation, we walked up past the ferry terminal and ate Thai on a patio. It was delish.

Supplied

The next morning we were up early to catch the free shuttle up to the mall. We had walked last year when we were here, but the hill, not so affectionately known as “Cardiac Hill” makes it a daunting prospect. We picked up a spare solar shower “just in case” at Canadian Tire and bought some more groceries (mostly stuff to freeze) and then added a couple bottles of wine to the cellar.

Eventually the shuttle arrived again. We met another couple heading north to Desolation in their C & C (a sailboat) and chatted. They had lived in Sherwood Park for 15 years at one point and she had taught nursing at MacEwan. The shuttle dropped us back at the marina and I headed back to the chandlery to find glue for my dinghy patch while Les unpacked. Back at the boat I hoisted the dinghy up on the foredeck and applied the patch. Then I tried to jury rig some straps to keep pressure on it while we sailed. It looked like it would work but I wanted to give it 24 hours or so to cure.

Then we set off on one of the most boring (in my humble option) stretches of the coast. Up past Savary Island and Lund and around the Copemans, we motored seemingly not really getting anywhere for hours. It’s not actually that bad but I’ve done it 5 times now and in my opinion its just not that interesting. While Dave skirted the Copemans, I decided to follow the various shorelines for some sightseeing. There wasn’t much besides seagulls and seals and the occasional kayaker, but it was pretty, and a bit more interesting than motoring straight down a channel.

The day’s goal was to get as close to the Yuculta’s as possible so we could catch the 9:30 slack. The Yuculta’s are the first of three successive rapids tha are possible to transit in a row as long as you time it right. Unfortunately we really couldn’t find anywhere close enough that wouldn’t mean either a super long day today or a 6 am start tomorrow. So we decided on Squirrel Cove. It was still 3 to 4 hours away but… c’est l’amour…

Anchors A Weigh

Squirrel Cove is this huge protected pair of coves on the east side of Cortes Island. All the books say it could accommodate over a hundred boats so it looked like a good bet. Neither R Shack Island nor us had ever been in it though, so we approached slowly, NFE in the lead.

I hate picking out an anchoring spot; it remains my biggest point of anxiety and L is no more confident at it than I am. We circled around a few times fretting until The Shack came in but then she just dropped anchor like it was easy. Shamed, we finally picked a spot and dropped. And then fretted for another half hour about big powerboat we were swinging too close to.

In the end it all worked out fine. We dropped the kellet as well and spent a pleasant night on the hook.

On my second swing around, when still fretting, I noticed that Dave had a visitor. There was a small inflatable hanging off his stern with a man in it. As we got closer I recognized him as Larry of Larry and Sheila fame off of the Ocean Grace. They were another boat from last year’s flotilla to the Broughtons. Apparently Larry had been putting about in his dinghy and spotted R Shack Island as they came in.

Dave invited everyone over for a drink later. Since my dinghy patch was still drying we needed boat to boat taxi service which was graciously provided. It was nice to visit. Ocean Grace is a 32 or 33 foot Catalina based out of Gibsons. Turns out Larry and Sheila live in Roberts Creek, same place as Leslie’s uncle Greg. Maybe someday we can pop by for a visit.

We had forgotten to leave any lights on in the boat so the ride back in the pitch black was interesting. Dave had his super-duper spotlight to point out our boat so at least we weren’t banging into random boats trying to read the names on the transoms. Back at the boat I grabbed our LED and ran it up a flag halyard for the night.

Over night it started to rain. I got up and double checked the hatches and stuck my head in the cockpit. I decided to throw the cushions on the floor to keep them semi dry. They are a closed-cell foam so supposedly won’t absorb water but it would be nice to have something dry to sit on the next day. Then I tried to get back to sleep.

It turns out I had neglected to check the cat’s food supply. Apparently she ran out in the middle of the night and that desperate situation became very stressful. Stressful enough that the scratching on the floor by her bowl went on for at least 10 minutes, waking both Leslie and I. When I got up to scold her I discovered the poor pathetic creature’s plight and immediately rectified it much to Artemis’s relief. Now she knew she could survive the night. Crisis averted. And I finally got some sleep.

Time and Tides

After we had finally dropped anchor in Squirrel Cove, Dave rowed over and we chatted a bit. I suggested the 5am start was abut silly since we weren’t in any actual rush. The tides turn roughly every 6 hours (we have a book the lists the various tidal stations and the times for the whole year) so we could skip the 9:30 slack and go for the 3 pm one instead. Then we could just do the first set of Rapids, the Yuculta’s, and stay at Big Bay in Stuart Isalnd. Then we could catch the next day’s 10:30 slack for Gillard and Dent and ride the ebb tide to whatever our destination was going to be. We both agreed that was a better plan.

A note about currents. In several place in the PNW there are constrictions where the tidal currents create rapids. These places are generally only safe to transit during slack — when the tides are pausing before changing direction. But pretty much everywhere you are going to sail there are currents. Sometimes they are negligible, but sometimes they can run to 2 or 3 knots. In a boat with a top speed of 5 or 6 knots, this can make quite a difference when going with or against the tide. So you often plan your trips to take advantage of the direction of the current and gain that knot it two.

Mixed weather

The next morning it was up anchor and away again. There was still a slight drizzle as I checked out the patch in the dinghy, filled it with air and declared it repaired. So I hooked it up to the spinnaker halyard and Leslie and I swung it over the side and back into the water. Departure time was set for 11:15 but Dave was up and running 15 minutes before us. So I sped up and proceeded to make a mess of it. The kellet got stuck in the anchor chain and I was hauling up 15′ of chain as well as the 20lb weight of the kellet. Then the whole mess got stuck in my snubber (a length of my old duo-dead climbing rope I use to put some elasticity into the anchor system) and I finally gave up and headed for the dinghy. I rowed around to the bow and untangled my mess. Then it was back aboard and we hauled up our anchor and set off in the misty morning.

Ocean Grace was already gone as we exited through the narrow passage out of Squirrel Cove and then turned northward. It rained on and off and we eventually put up the side panel on the port side to keep out the wet wind.

It’s beautiful in these waters. Narrow channels and middling mountains surround you as you work your way around all the islands. Eventually the rain cleared off and the sun started to peak through the clouds creating a beautiful, ever changing vista of highlights and shadows.

A mere 4 hours later we pulled into the junction of three waterways that marks the beginning of the Yuculta’s. There were few boats already there and there was just slightly under an hour before the turn. So everyone throttled down and and we circled and drifted for 30 minutes or so. Then the boats started to go. First the small fast boats, then the bigger powerboats and finally the sailboats.

Leslie took us through and as usually, we were left wondering what the fuss is all about. It’s one of those things that you have to take on faith because to go through when the rapids were running would be idiotic and if you go through at slack there is little to no indication there ever were rapids.

We swung by the Stuart Island Community Docks and had a look see. There are no staff or wharfingers there so it’s catch as catch can. There were a ton of massive 40-60 foot powerboats there but spaces still available on the outsides of the fingers. So in we went.

The docking was a pretty non-event. There are strong currents here and last year’s visit had entailed some excitement, but prior knowledge and being closer to slack made tying up a snap.

During the long motor up Art finally decided that the cockpit was better than the noise of being below. She started out on the floor but eventually worked her way up to the seat and started to help navigate. Then she got too brave and started to head to the bow. On the third abortive attempt she earned a swat and sulked for a while.

She earned another swat that evening when she escaped out the hatch above the stove ,managing to break two rules (no being on the counter and no being outside without supervision) at once. So she sulked some more.  But some late night scratches got me back into her good books.

After tying up we paid up at the store, had a beer (and some water) with Dave and Margaret aboard for a bit, then bid them goodnight and retired below for some yummy yummy French toast. As the sun fell we broke out the laptop and watch some videos before crashing.

Slack was at 10:30 tomorrow and Gillard was less than half a mile away. It would be a leisurely morning.