When I woke up Thursday morning, Cambria was sitting exactly where I expected her to be despite the fact that we'd dragged anchor and drifted over a half of a mile the night before. But she wasn't there for long.* It's getting late in the season at this latitude (53° N) and our time in Gardner Canal is limited, so we needed to start moving and, shortly after lunch, we upped anchor and rode the tide down to Chief Mathews Bay, a welcomed end to any day.

The stretch of canal that separates the two bays, Owyacumish and Chief Mathews, is one of the most beautiful sections of the fjord. Mile after spectacular mile of some of the best scenery coastal British Columbia has to offer lines the waterway and beckons boats: waterfalls, snow-capped mountains, glacial valleys and domes. It truly is breathtaking . . . even the second time around (we made a trip down Gardner Canal in 2014 and liked it so much we wanted to do it again).  

It was late in the evening when we arrived and the sun had already found its way behind the mountains, so we settled in for the night in hopes that Friday would be just as nice. The barometer fell from a high of 1026 MB down to 1012 overnight, but the day didn't disappoint. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and the temperature was warm, so we did our best to make the most of the last of the fine conditions.

David hung the Air Chair from a halyard and I hopped in my kayak, both of us attempting to reach the same goal: to fully take in the view. The thing is, though, it's not an easy goal to reach. Chief Mathews Bay is large. It runs three miles long and is a mile wide at the mouth. And everywhere you look there's something amazing and beautiful to see: The head of the bay ends in a large river valley backed by rugged, glacial-capped mountains. The sides are lined with high granite ridges where Douglas and Cedar tress cling for dear life and waterfalls tumble down to the sea, filling the anchorage with the sound of crashing water a veritable slice of heaven on earth begging to be explored.

I'm not sure how long David sat there and tried, but I know I spent hours paddling around the bay, dashing in and out of small waterfalls, doing my best to appreciate my surroundings. By the time I got home, my arms felt like rubber but I was no closer to reaching my goal. D was no more successful than I was: It's simply too overwhelming and difficult to assimilate.

The barometer remained steady over the next two days, but rain moved in Saturday evening and the wind picked up enough to bring a little chop into the anchorage. We'd hoped to leave Sunday morning, but decided to stay another night in hopes the conditions would improve come Monday, passing the time in all the ways we normally spend rainy days at anchor baking break, playing the guitar, drawing, reading and writing all the while making sure to take the time to look out and appreciate the ever-changing view of our latest neighbourhood.

*From 25 28 August.