S.V. CAMBRIA: July 2012

Roscoe Inlet

Tuesday, July 31, 2012TheCambrians

Roscoe Inlet The Central Coast the Inside Passage

Roscoe Inlet

Monday, July 30, 2012TheCambrians

British Columbia Ocean Falls The Central Coast

Ocean Falls, Cousins Inlet

Friday, July 27, 2012TheCambrians

Our original plan was to stay in Ocean Falls for only one night, but plans are made to be changed. And so we stayed.

A “must-do” while here is a visit to the marine ways where “Nearly Normal Norman Brown”, one of the locals we met at the pub Wednesday, has created a museum from items he found in the town over the years – everything from children’s toys to an industrial egg boiler (that still works) from the Martin Inn. Some of the more interesting pieces include registers from the hotel reporting on daily activity and the company housing logs. But what struck me the most is how all of these items, from somebody’s spoon collection to their furniture was considered valuable enough at one time to possess, but were left behind as if the owners were escaping a natural disaster … maybe they were.

Another “must-do” while here is breakfast at Darke Waters Lodge. Owners Rob and Corrina Darke cater daily to loggers, so the food is good and there’s plenty of it … that’s if you can get out of bed before nine (David).

Over the past couple of days, we’ve taken a few more walks through the old town site and entered some of the decaying buildings, including the old high school. It’s difficult to appreciate how great of a change has occurred until you’ve seen pictures of Ocean Falls during its heyday and talked to people who either lived here or visited when it was thriving – the look on their faces tells the story.

Those who continue to live here year-round are hardy souls and have well-earned their nickname – The Rain People. The entire area, from the tip of Vancouver Island to Southeast Alaska, makes up the Great Bear Rainforest, one of the largest remaining tracts of unspoiled temperate rainforest in the world. And within the boundaries of this great rainforest, Ocean Falls is known for its abundance of rain. Approximately 4,390 mm (172 inches) falls annually and last year there were only 36 days of recorded sunshine. As much as I would hate that (and believe me, I would) it’s still a tempting thought. Tempting enough that we hope to return on our way south for another look.

British Columbia Ocean Falls The Central Coast

Ocean Falls, Cousins Inlet

Wednesday, July 25, 2012TheCambrians

The damn in Ocean Falls.

After another quick soak in the hot spring pool, we upped anchor and left Eucott Bay (without incident) for Ocean Falls, passing by Sir Alexander MacKenzie Provincial Park along the way. The park commemorates the site of the first recorded walk across the North American continent, marked with an obelisk monument. Along the shoreline, there’s a rock which reads, “Alex MacKenzie from Canada by land 22 July 1793”. The fact that he walked across Canada is impressive, the monument … not so much.

Ocean Falls was first imagined as an industrial community in 1903 by three men who saw the Link Lake Falls and surrounding timber and envisioned a pulp mill site. In September of 1906, twenty-five men disembarked the steamer Venture with the sole purpose of clearing the land. Eventually a pulp mill was built (the largest in British Columbia for many years); a saw mill, power station and dam followed years later and Ocean Falls grew into a thriving town of approximately 5,000 people, complete with a hotel, hospital, fire house, department store, apartment buildings, schools, and the like.

It’s been said that Crown Zellerbach, the principle and final corporate owner of the town, didn’t plan for the future but, rather, a funeral. In the final moments before CZ pulled out, the company convinced the provincial government to transfer all of the surrounding timber rights to another one of its mills, effectively putting a nail in the town’s coffin. Without those rights, whoever took over the mill in Ocean Falls would fail. As it turned out, the new owner would be the government.

The company was set to leave in March of 1793. The province, unwilling to lose the jobs, stepped in and purchased the town, mill, and everything else for one million dollars. But without the timber rights and the additional costs associated with such a remote location, the mill wasn’t profitable and closed its doors for good in May of 1980. Five years later, the government set out to demolish the town with bulldozers. The remaining residents opposed the demolition until the government decided to recognize the heritage status of Ocean Falls and turned the town over to a newly (and hastily) formed Ocean Falls Improvement District. The majority of the town had already been destroyed but downtown, fortunately, was largely spared. With its infrastructure and deep water harbor, Ocean Falls has sought new industry over the years but hasn’t been successful. Now it and the neighbouring community of Martin Valley, where most of the residents live, have a population of approximately 40 in the winter and 100 in the summer.

We tied up to the dock with the help of our new neighbours, Don and Carol, and took Sally for a well-deserved walk. We hadn’t taken more than a few steps along the road when we met Neil, a resident helping out at the docks, who recognized the name on my hat – Wichita State Shockers. He grew up in Clearwater, Kansas and moved to Alaska over fifty years ago. Upon making his way back to the lower 48, Ocean Falls stopped him in his tracks. After a good look around, it was easy to understand why.

We shook our heads in disbelief at yet another encounter with a former Kansan (it happens a lot), and continued our walk through the town and up to the dam. The Martin Inn Hotel, once the largest on the entire coast, is empty. Its windows have been left open leaving the interior to rot in the elements. A two-story garden-court apartment complex, 1970s style, is overgrown with weeds and falling down. The windows are broken, the plumbing fixtures are torn out, and the roof is falling in. But some of the buildings and old homes have been saved and are being used today – the old brothel sitting proudly on the highest hill overlooking the town, the church (which oddly sits below the brothel), the former hospital, and a few others. Walking past these places that used to house so much life is surreal, offering a glimpse into what was but will most likely never be again.

Sally was getting hot and tired, so we took her back to the boat before continuing our walk to nearby Martin Valley where there’s a grocery store. As luck would have it, they were open today (Wednesdays, Saturdays and Mondays from 3:00 pm to 5:00 pm). We picked up a few items and stopped off at the local pub, which used to be someone’s house, for a beer. One turned into three as we soon joined a table of locals and chatted for an hour or so. I gleaned a few places to add to this year’s cruising destinations while David talked to Rob and Steve Darke, the new owners of a fishing lodge in Ocean Falls – it’s been eleven years, but he still can’t pass up the opportunity to talk business. By then it was approaching six o’clock and we all said our goodbyes, making room for the next group of drinkers. It was the perfect ending to an already great day.

British Columbia Dean Channel The Central Coast

Cascade Inlet, Dean Channel

Tuesday, July 24, 2012TheCambrians

I was really disappointed that we weren’t able to get into the hot spring pool yesterday, so we went back this morning to give it another try. The water had cooled down overnight and was warm, but not scalding, so we soaked until our fingers looked like prunes and our heads were light from the heat. David, who is definitely not a morning person, kept saying it was the perfect way to start the day. I had to agree – a hot bath being a real luxury for any sailor.

We got back to the boat just as the flies were coming out, so we quickly got ready and upped anchor. The thing about Cambria is that we carry a lot of anchor chain, so it doesn’t fit in the locker unless I’m at the bow flaking it with a boat hook as David brings it in from an electric windless remote in the cockpit. Normally when we leave an anchorage, we’re focused and quiet until we clear any obstacles. If there are underwater rocks or shoals, I’ll stay on the bow to look for them and direct David with hand signals. But because we didn’t have a problem coming in yesterday and, according to the charts, the entry is clear, I went straight back to the cockpit to get away from the flies and we started chatting about how great the hot spring was and how annoying the horseflies were. Before the alarm on the depth meter had a chance to go off, we were aground … again! Unbelievable! We go eight years without an incident and this year we have two within a month of each other!

Fortunately David was able to back out of it and, once in deeper water, re-anchored to take a look at the situation. But I could already clearly see the problem. Silt has been filling in from a stream fed by a waterfall located on the west side of the bay and a sandbar has formed so the depth is no longer 5.5 metres as charted, but less than 1.7 metres. Had we favoured the eastern shore more (and had I not been so anxious to get away from the vicious flies), we would have been fine. The tide was coming in so we decided to give it a half an hour and had lunch before we tried again, this time successfully. With the delay, the boat was covered in horseflies once again, so David continued his killing spree – there were blood and guts everywhere! But thankfully, most of the flies left us once we cleared the entrance to Eucott Bay.

Just off Dean Channel, a few miles south of Eucott Bay, lies Cascade Inlet, a narrow arm that runs 13 nautical miles and is lined with steep, snow-capped mountains, beautiful glacial valleys, and spectacular glacial bowls. About every half-mile, there’s an impressive cascade or waterfall crashing down from the summer melts ... so many, in fact, that we lost count early on. We slowly motored down the inlet – the absolute highlight of the season so far – while sitting on the deck and enjoying the view, the auto-helm keeping the boat on course. When we reached the end, we reluctantly turned around and went back to Eucott Bay for the night, enjoying the view for a second time along the way.

I can honestly say without hesitation that it’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been, which prompted tonight’s conversation. Since arriving in the Central Coast, I’ve been contemplating whether or not I ever want to leave the Pacific Northwest. We have grand plans to cruise the east coast of the US and the Mediterranean, but how could they possibly compare to all this: Remote anchorages. Wilderness. Fresh air. Dramatic scenery. If you’ve found everything you’re looking for, is there any reason to move on? As it turns out, David’s been asking himself the same question.

British Columbia Dean Channel The Central Coast

Eucott Bay, Dean Channel

Monday, July 23, 2012TheCambrians

The view from the hot spring tub in Eucott Bay.

We left Codville early this morning with a rising tide in hopes of getting some help from the current as we travelled 38 nautical miles up Dean Channel to Eucott Bay. The inflow winds had already started and filled in quickly blowing around 20 knots most of the day, creating a sea of whitecaps on the water. Fortunately for us, it was directly off our stern so we didn’t have to bash and crash like the boats travelling down-inlet.

With some cruising grounds, it’s all about what lies at the end of the road – a sandy beach, a waterfall, a special hike – and with others, it’s what happens along the way. Cruising the Central Coast is a mixture of both. Surely one of the best things about going to Eucott Bay, a destination in itself, is what you see before you get there – mile after mile of high, steep mountains with incredible glacial valleys dotted with waterfalls and snow-capped mountains. The views were so stunning that we were a little disappointed to find ourselves approaching the entrance to Eucott Bay, even though we’d been motoring for seven hours. Even more so when the first horsefly appeared. And then the second. And the third.

By the time the anchor was set, the boat was covered in these nasty flying creatures and David amused himself by killing every one in sight by swatting it with a synthetic chamois. For the next hour or so, the anchorage was filled with the sounds of “Bang! Bang! Bang!” echoing off the steep granite cliffs while David left tiny carcasses on the deck and yelled at the little “bastards” in some sort of absurd fly-killing frenzy.

Despite the horseflies, Eucott Bay is a gorgeous spot, about as beautiful as any we’ve anchored in over the years. Tall marsh-grass lines the shore and trees cling tenaciously to the vertical cracks along the granite cliffs. On the south shore near the entrance, a waterfall cascades a thousand feet down from snowy peaks, emptying directly into the saltwater. On the northeast shore of the bay, there’s a 2,000-foot vertical grey monolith reminiscent of Yosemite’s Half Dome. And at the base of “Half Dome” lies the pièce de la resistance, a hot spring pool formed of natural rock that locals enhanced with concrete slabs to create a tub.

I finally got David to put down his weapon in favour of a kayak paddle and we snuck down to the hot springs, killing flies along the way. The view from the pool is just as beautiful as the rest of the anchorage and looks out into a glacial valley with snow-capped peaks to the northwest. But it was a warm, sunny day and the water was too hot. I could only manage to put a foot in while David got up to his waist before we finally gave up and paddled back home just as another boat was coming into the anchorage for the night.

The flies were still out so David went back to his rampage until the sun dropped behind the mountains, leaving the anchorage in shade, and they disappeared. That night as we sat on the deck and listened to him brag about how many he had killed, I spotted two black bears lumbering through the marshy grass along the southern shore, (thankfully) putting a quick end to the conversation. It was the perfect end to another interesting, but wonderful day.

British Columbia The Central Coast the Inside Passage

Codville Lagoon Marine Park

Sunday, July 22, 2012TheCambrians

British Columbia Fitz Hugh Sound The Central Coast

Sea Otter Inlet, Hunter Island

Saturday, July 21, 2012TheCambrians

Kayaking into Fitz Hugh Sound.

Eager to reach the inlets of the Central Coast, we left Fly Basin around 7:30 yesterday morning and made our way out back into Fitz Hugh Sound. The marine layer was clinging to the mainland and the sky was grey, threatening rain, but visibility was good and just as we were turning north, we saw a humpback whale blowing the distance before taking one last breath and diving deep, waving goodbye with its tale as it went – not a bad way to start a long day.

We had 43 nautical miles to travel but before we knew it, we were anchored in the south arm of Sea Otter Inlet on Hunter Island, a long and narrow bay with enough swing room for only one boat … Cambria. The sea otters are long gone, most likely hunted for their pelts, but it’s a beautiful spot on its own merit. There’s no “eye candy” in the form of snow-capped mountains here. In fact, the landscape is fairly benign – old growth cedar trees lining a rocky shore. What makes it so special is the complete silence and isolation. There’s not a sound to be heard except for the birds. No wind. No people. Nothing. It’s absolutely amazing.

Shortly after we arrived, it started to rain – the first we’d seen in two weeks – so we kept to the boat for the rest of the afternoon. But with such a beautiful anchorage all to ourselves, we decided to spend an extra night so that we could explore by kayak today. There are two breaks in the shore near the head of the bay. To the west, there’s a shallow rock-filled passage that you can transit at high tide and connects to the adjoining anchorage, Target Bay. And to the east there’s a shallow channel that leads out to Fitz Hugh Sound. Saving the best for last, we paddled along the shore and into Target Bay before crossing the anchorage and entering the sound where a view of the mainland unfolds before your eyes and appears to go on forever, making you realize how completely insignificant you really are.

Unfortunately, the rain started again, so we reluctantly made our way back to the boat to make plans for tomorrow’s passage. It’s more than 50 nm to our next destination, an eight to ten hour trip, so we’ll shorten the day by stopping in Codville Lagoon, just inside Fisher Channel, for the night.

The mainland along Fitz Hugh Sound.

British Columbia The Central Coast the Inside Passage

Fly Basin, Smith Sound

Thursday, July 19, 2012TheCambrians

British Columbia the Inside Passage

Blunden Harbour

Tuesday, July 17, 2012TheCambrians

All that remains of the former First Nation's village.

Blunden Harbour is one of the best anchorages along Queen Charlotte Strait, which is exactly why we’re here. For the past four days the wind has blown steadily, easing off at night, only to increase again by eight in the morning. Along with the wind comes an increased sea state, three to four metres (10 to 14 feet), making any northern progress difficult.

Apart from my trips to shore with Sally, we’ve kept to the boat along with most of the others anchored here. I did have a chat with a couple of lady kayakers from Seattle the other day who are on their way to Ketchikan, Alaska. The two Traceys left a month ago (sadly, they’re making better progress than we are) and were recently been chased off The Broken Islands (just outside the entrance to Port Harvey off Johnstone Strait) by a grizzly bear while camping. It’s been a difficult journey for them with the weather, but they’ve still managed to paddle 20 to 30 nautical miles each day. I would have loved to have stayed and talked with them longer but it was getting late and they were planning to leave in the morning, so we said our goodnights and I drug Sally back to the boat.

And earlier today I was talking to a couple who told me that you can still find trading beads on the beach here. The wife described what they look like and while playing tug with Sally tonight, I happened to find one. All I can say is that the Europeans were cheap, conniving bastards (they traded the worthless pieces of glass for otter pelts). I found several more broken pieces while we walked up and down the beach, but that wasn’t the end of our excitement for the evening. Sally’s been full of herself lately and decided to climb up a ten foot rock and jump down, landing flat on her face (she doesn’t have the leg muscles for a proper landing anymore). I had visions of shattered bones but, apart from a bloody lip, she’s fine. No aches, pains or sprains.

Now that the wind has started to back off to the normal range of 15 to 20 knots, we’ve been getting up early to listen to the latest forecast and current conditions. It looks like our patience will pay off either tomorrow or Thursday at which point we’ll (finally) up anchor and say goodbye to Blunden Harbour.

David says we’re getting soft because when we were living in New Zealand we didn’t give 25 knots a second thought. I say we’re getting smarter. But I had to laugh when I recalled a morning that it was blowing 30 knots outside and we were trying to decide whether or not we should leave our berth for a scheduled haul-out about ten miles south of the marina. Funnily enough, it was the chance of rain that kept us put.

Wind is a major issue but so is the sea state. Case in point, we were leaving the Bay of Islands in January of 2007 to sail down to Auckland to meet the ship that would eventually carry Cambria to Mexico. We had waited several days for a weather system to pass through the area and were getting a little nervous about making it down with plenty of time to spare – at that stage we didn’t have an exact departure date. Auckland is only 150 nm south of the Bay of Islands, but it’s a difficult coast and the weather can hold you up for days at a time. So we left our anchorage in Opua and motored out to the open bay where we were met with a one metre swell. David asked if I wanted to wait another day for the sea state to improve. I thought it’d be fine, so I said no. But once we got close to Cape Brett, things really got ugly. We had four metre seas (close together) and no wind – the boat was all over the place. After a couple of hours, we ducked into the nearest port (Whangaruru, I believe), surfing down waves in order to enter. The next morning when we left, the seas were flat calm. I learned my lesson well: the sea needs time to rid itself of the wind’s energy. Point is, if I can avoid them, my four metre sea days are behind me – I’ve gotten smarter even if he hasn’t!

British Columbia the Inside Passage

Blunden Harbour

Friday, July 13, 2012TheCambrians

The beach in Blunden Harbour.

The conditions were excellent yesterday morning, so we upped anchor and motored to Port McNeill to fill our tanks (both water and fuel), do laundry and buy more groceries. With all of our chores done and another fine day in store, we left at eight o’clock this morning and made our way across Queen Charlotte Strait to our first new anchorage of the season, Blunden Harbour.

It was a beautiful morning on the water with a four to five knot breeze and a leisurely westerly swell, at times the sea was as smooth as glass. We couldn’t have asked for better. But to top it off, the marine layer that had been clinging to the mainland began to break up as we approached the rocky entrance to the harbour.

The main attraction in Blunden Harbour is a shell midden marking the former site of a Kwakiutl village that once stood on the north shore. Several hundred First Nation members moved here in the mid-1800s from nearby Smith and Seymour Inlets seeking better access to halibut and deep-sea fishing. Their migration continued south and by the 1960s, the band had moved to Port Harvey off Johnstone Strait, abandoning the village entirely. Few traces of the original village remain today: some fallen posts overhang the grassy bank above the shell midden and a few cedar planks lie on the beach, but time and nature have reclaimed the village, as intended.

I took Sally to the midden for her evening walk and discovered one of the best beaches I’ve ever seen for combing. There are wonderful treasures scattered along the shoreline from the band’s time here: colourful sea glass (yellow, purple, blue), leather shoe insets, pieces pottery and china, broken Depression-Era glass dishes. There’s also a very disturbing sign that someone posted within the last two years that reads: SCHOONER. Killed here by a mountain lion. She gave her life to save ours. That was all I needed to see to end the walk.

Mountain lions or not, this will be our home for the next several days. There’s a ridge of high pressure building offshore and strengthening the winds along the northern coast as it builds. Gale force warnings are now in effect and the wind is predicted to blow heavily until at least Tuesday, so we have not choice but to tuck in and make ourselves comfortable.

British Columbia The Broughtons the Inside Passage

Crease Island

Wednesday, July 11, 2012TheCambrians

Crease Island, The Broughtons

Our goal is to reach Port McNeill, a small logging town that lies off Johnstone Strait on Vancouver Island, to refuel and provision before we move north. We’d hoped to take advantage of the most direct route – up the strait itself – but have no confidence that we can make the 30 nautical mile trip before the winds are too strong, so we decided to take the inside route and left Port Harvey yesterday morning to time slack at Chatham Channel (a narrow passage lined with kelp where the currents can run up to five knots). We then motored down Knight Inlet and into Broughtons Marine Park where we dropped the anchor off Crease Island just as the afternoon winds were filling in.

It blew all day but died out some time after sunset and we woke up to flat seas and fog which stuck around until two o’clock. Once it lifted, I launched my kayak and paddled around the anchorage and the surrounding islets. There wasn’t any marine life to speak of, not even a seal, but I did manage to send a pair of Kingfishers off in a panic. David took to the kayak shortly after me and spent some time lounging in a cove where he had a “come to Jesus” meeting with himself. He wasn’t the only one. I had a similar conversation with myself and we’d both come to the same conclusion: we’ve been too relaxed and it’s time for a mental gear change.

The forecast for the area is difficult and has us both questioning our options. There’s a strong wind warning in effect and they’re predicting winds up to 40 knots in Johnstone Strait on Friday, Saturday and Sunday (possibly weakening by Monday). The forecast for Queen Charlotte Strait, which we also have to cross, isn’t much better and making any progress over the next week won’t be easy.

But on summer mornings Johnstone and Queen Charlotte Straits can be surprisingly calm. By late morning, a sea breeze typically develops which regularly increases to 20 or 30 knots before dying out once again in the evening. Learning to work your way around these patterns is key. We don’t doubt the forecast – surely we’ll see 40 knots over the next few days –but we should be able to make Port McNeill tomorrow and cross Queen Charlotte Strait Friday morning before things get really ugly.

We were sitting on the deck after dinner talking about this when an old-timer who looked like he walked straight off the set of the movie Deliverance came by the boat in an old wooden skiff. He’d noticed that we have a dog aboard, a fact that requires us (and by us I really mean me) to go shore, and wanted to warn us about all of the strange happenings on Crease Island. His speech was difficult to understand due to a lack of teeth but, from what we could make out, he was saying that he’d seen Sasquatches and a strange light on the island over the years. He claims to have a photo that was published in a local paper to prove it but, of course, didn’t have it with him. We were speechless and had absolutely no idea how to respond. Between the "oh really"s and "that’s interesting"s, we politely made our excuses and went inside. Fortunately, I’d already taken Sally to shore.

British Columbia The Broughtons the Inside Passage

Port Harvey

Monday, July 09, 2012TheCambrians

"Oily George" leaving Port Harvey.

Our time in Shoal Bay was short, but sweet. And after another wonderful evening onshore having dinner with Mark, Cynthia and the rest of the“regulars”, we upped anchor early Sunday morning and have been on the move since.

After transiting the final two sets of rapids Sunday afternoon, we headed for Johnstone Strait. Knowing what we do about the area (and Johnstone in particular), we should have taken a right after transiting Whirlpool Rapids and spent the night in Forward Harbour, but we continued down Sunderland Channel where we were met with white caps and 14 knots on the nose. The conditions were still good at that stage but deteriorated over the next two hours. By the end of the afternoon, we were battling 25 knots of wind from the northwest and one metre seas. Cambria was hobby-horsing up and down the short waves, something she can do all day but quickly wears on our nerves (especially mine). But more importantly, the debris in the water was very difficult to see in the mess of whitecaps and the last thing we wanted, or needed, to do was hit a log.

We’d hoped to get as far as Port Harvey, but it wasn’t going to happen in those conditions, so we pulled into Port Neville for the night – what David has aptly named “any port in a storm”. It’s not a great anchorage. But it’s not bad either. The current runs fairly strong throughout the bay and you see a lot of the wind off Johnstone Strait, but it’s relatively flat and the holding is good.

After a windy night in Neville Bay, it was flat calm the next morning so we left at nine and motored 17 nm to Port Harvey. It was tempting to go further, but after the beating we took the day before, neither one of us was interested in pushing our luck. As it turned out, the wind started to fill in shortly after we dropped our anchor just outside the marina.

We prefer to anchor for several reasons, none more so than privacy, but we do enjoy some of the amenities marinas offer, like a safe place to walk Sally, showers and restaurants. We were here two years ago (to the day) and ate some of the best fish and chips we’ve had outside of England and New Zealand, so we booked a meal at the marina pub and went in for dinner. A group of seven, most of whom we already knew from Shoal Bay, we’re already seated and asked us to join them. We sat there for hours talking, eating and drinking. It was a great evening – you couldn’t have planned anything better – but it was clear that, even though we’re all like-minded people, we weren’t going to solve the world’s problems in one night. So with most of us leaving early in the morning, we said our goodnights and goodbyes and went back to the boat.

British Columbia the Discovery Islands the Inside Passage

Shoal Bay, East Thurlow Island

Friday, July 06, 2012TheCambrians

David enjoying another beautiful Shoal Bay evening on the deck.

Octopus Islands Marine Park is another of our favourite places to stop, but some visits are better than others and this one was lacking for one reason or another. Maybe it was the full moon. Maybe it was the tides. Maybe it was the pressure we feel to get north. Or maybe it was the group of eleven boats (yes, eleven) rafted together. Whatever the reason, we were both ready to move on so we upped anchor early this morning to time our passage through the next set of rapids, Upper and Lower, and made our way through the labyrinth of inland waterways – Okisollo Channel, Discovery Passage, Nodales and Cordero Channels – that lead to our next destination: Shoal Bay.

Shoal Bay is a unique spot. In the late 1800s it was the most populated town on the coast (including the city of Vancouver) but, over the years, industry in the area died out taking the town along with it. Eventually a fourteen room resort was built on the property which Mark MacDonald bought in 2000. Within weeks of moving everything he owned in, the lodge caught fire and burned to the ground – destroying everything in the process. He stuck with it and over the years has been rebuilding his dream in the form of a pub and cottages with the help of friends, strangers and, most recently, his new bride, Cynthia.

But it’s named Shoal Bay for good reason … because it shoals very quickly. And today, for the first time out of many visits, we nearly went aground. David was approaching too quickly and misjudged our position. I was standing at the bow ready to anchor when I realized he was going to hit. Ishould have yelled for him to back up, but I pointed and yelled, “shoal!” instead. And before the alarm on the depth sounder had a chance to go off, we were aground. He threw the motor in reverse and was able to power off the soft sand and mud before we got stuck, giving everyone on the dock a bit of morning’s entertainment and saving us from what would have been a very long day: the tide was still going out and it would have been another six hours or more before there was enough water in the bay to float the boat.

We set the anchor (in thirty metres of water) and went to shore where we found Mark and Cynthia at the house along with their dog, Fannie. A couple of friends we met two years ago in Princess Louisa Inlet, Annie and Craig, are also here and tied to the dock along with summer-resident, Roger. After a quick hello to everyone we went back to the boat for the afternoon where David took a well-deserved nap while I floated around the shore in the kayak: it seems he haunted the boat again last night and only got two hours of sleep before I drug him out of bed this morning.

Annie’s a great organizer and made plans to have a Vietnamese Spring Roll dinner at the pub for several “regulars”, including Les, an“old-timer” who’s been cruising these waters for over thirty-five years and always has a colourful tale to tell. Like most of the nights we’ve spent in Shoal Bay over the past three seasons, it was a wonderful evening and, before we knew it, it was time to say goodnight and go home.

Unfortunately, Annie and Craig will be leaving early in the morning and are making their way back to Seattle, so we won’t see them again this season. Our departure won’t be long after theirs though. We’ll spend one more night here and then continue north through the final set of rapids, Green Point and Whirlpool, Sunday morning.

British Columbia Desolation Sound the Inside Passage

Rebecca Spit Marine Park, Quadra Island

Wednesday, July 04, 2012TheCambrians

Cambria at anchor in Rebecca Spit.

It rained most of the day again yesterday but visibility was good, so we moved to Rebecca Spit Marine Park on nearby Quadra Island to buy provisions and set ourselves up to go through the first set of rapids, Beazley Passage, today.

The best time to transit arapid is at or near slack tide, this is especially true for sailboats. And, like most things associated with this lifestyle, there’s preparation involved. First you need to know what time slack tide occurs. We have several sources aboard, and all of them seem to differ slightly. So we always go with Canadian Hydro, using the others to support this choice (they’re all in the same ballpark, after all). Then you need to know the distance from your current position to the rapids and what speed you’ll be travelling so that you can determine what time to leave your current anchorage. Today it was 4:30 pm. You can always be early but being late isn’t an option or you’ll be waiting another six hours for the next slack tide to arrive (again, I’m talking sailboats here). Depending on the rapids, you may have a five to ten minute window of opportunity, sometimes less.

Beazley Passage is the southernmost of the rapids, or gates, separating the tidal flow. Since we crossed the Strait of Juan de Fuca in May, the tide has been flooding to the north and ebbing to the south. Once we transit the rapids, that will change and it’ll flood to the south. The moon is currently full, so we’re having what are called “spring tides” which are larger than normal. At spring floods, Beazley runs at about twelve knots. We have a sixty horsepower engine that can make about seven knots. I’ll leave the math to you.

Today we were a little early. Seven minutes to be exact. And as we approached the passage, we could see an elephant parade of boats (ten in all) waiting to transit. When we were within a half mile, they started to go through, one by one. We decided to go as well and, by the time we saw the lively waters in the channel, it was too late – we were committed. There was still a two-knot head current with turbulent waters and Cambria was getting pushed around bit. Adding to the difficulty is the fact that it’s a narrow passage with two major obstacles that you can’t see – a reef along the western edge and a rock on the eastern one (hence the turbulence). But David helmed the boat beautifully and we made it through without incident, cursing the large tides once we were through.

With Beazley Passage behind us, we carried on to Octopus Islands Marine Park, another one of our favourite anchorages, for a night or two. As much as we like it here, we can’t afford to linger. Because of the haul-out in Nanaimo and the recent bad weather, we’re a couple of weeks behind where we thought we’d be at this stage in the season and need to keep moving while we can.

British Columbia Desolation Sound the Inside Passage

Gorge Harbour, Cortes Island

Monday, July 02, 2012TheCambrians

Roscoe Inlet

Roscoe Inlet

Ocean Falls, Cousins Inlet

Ocean Falls, Cousins Inlet

Cascade Inlet, Dean Channel

Eucott Bay, Dean Channel

Codville Lagoon Marine Park

Sea Otter Inlet, Hunter Island

Fly Basin, Smith Sound

Blunden Harbour

Blunden Harbour

Crease Island

Port Harvey

Shoal Bay, East Thurlow Island

Rebecca Spit Marine Park, Quadra Island

Gorge Harbour, Cortes Island

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