As it turned out, the forecast for the weekend didn’t materialize. What was supposed to be sunny and warm turned overcast with thunderstorms both yesterday and today. It was a little disappointing, spending so much of our time hiding from rain showers rather than exploring our final anchorage of the Central Coast. But more disappointing is that we’re beginning to see changes in the weather and forecasts that just aren’t holding up – in other words, the beginning of the end.
We did have one more beautiful day on Friday when we went to shore and walked across to West Beach. The beach, though not quite as impressive as those we’ve seen in the South Pacific, does compare with those along the west coast of the US, particularly Northern California and Oregon where coniferous trees are the norm. Regardless, it was a really nice change to hear the crash of the waves and walk barefoot along the warm, sandy beach dipping a toe or two in the cold water – now I can say I’ve had my foot in the Pacific from New Zealand to (nearly) the top of Canada. Not as exciting as the touching the two poles, but it’s a start.
The sea state is down and the forecast is good, so we’ll be leaving tomorrow morning with the tide. If all goes to plan, we’ll be able to take benefit from the ebb (which flows to the south) before it changes to flood at Cape Caution (which also flows to the south) along with a northwesterly breeze to sail in.
The fact that our time along the Central Coast has ended is sad for both of us. The area is without a doubt one of the most beautiful places and best cruising grounds in the world, and we’ve enjoyed every last minute of our time here. Day by day and mile by spectacular mile, we explored our way along the coastal mountains through a complicated labyrinth of channels, inlets and fjords. We saw some of them most incredible scenery the world has to offer – waterfalls, snow-capped mountain tops, glacial valleys and domes – all from the comfort of our home, a privilege we don’t take for granted. And as much as we’d love to linger in the area, it’s time to go. If the weather patterns haven’t already started to change (which we believe they have), they soon will.
I know in describing ourt ime here that I’ve used so many superlatives that it borders on exaggeration, but the opposite is true – when it comes to recounting our experiences and how stunning the area truly is, words fall short. The land here speaks to us in a very personal way. We have an affinity for the remoteness of the area – the seclusion and the need to be self-reliant. And leaving is difficult. Very difficult. We’re fortunate and can come back next year if we like. But you only have one first time, and now that’s over.
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