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| West View Marina in Tahsis - a welcome bit of civilization |
7/13/12
I'm sitting on my boat in a splendid little marina called West View Marina, near the community of Tahsis, 17 miles inland, as the crow flies, from the Pacific Ocean. It's primarily a sports fishing marina with lodges, rentals of boats, kayaks, it has a nice bar and restaurant with a sort of Jimmy Buffet motif, amply emphasized by playing Radio Margaritaville in their PA system. Near the bar is a series of filet tables with spray nozzles and sinks that the sports fisher can clean their catch. Per day here, it's $50, but it's worth it with clean showers, laundry, boat boys to help you dock your boat, electricity(!),and fresh water as well as fuel. It's got internet, but no cell phones. The couple who run the place keep it up very well and they "run a tight ship".
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| Approaching Tahsis |
It helps to have a Jimmy Buffet motif when it's been so clear, hot and sunny. I have all of my hatches open, windows open, there's a breeze from the south filtering in (supposedly there is a 40 knot NW gale on the coast). And all I have is a pair of trunks - no shorts! How short sighted of me! Did I tell you that it's been nice weather ever since I got to Vancouver Island. I, at first, thought there was some sort of weather divide between Haida Gwaii and Vancouver, but, after I've talked to a few people, they said that the weather had been crappy here too. So who's to say that if I had stayed in Haida Gwaii for another week, I would have seen good weather there too. It's like going on a surf trip to a special location, then for two weeks not having any swell, then leaving, and hearing afterwards that there was great surf the day after you left. Ha Ha! Oh well, best not to dwell on that too much.
Going across Queen Charlotte Sound, from Cape St. James on the south of Haida Gwaii to Cape Scout on the north tip of Vancouver Island, would be the longest single-handed trip that I've done yet during my intermittent career as a cruiser. For a crewed boat, the 140 miles would have been nothing as everyone stands watch for 3-4 hours at a time; but for me, by myself, in unknown waters with questionable weather, it would be a long day and night. Naturally, I was nervous and apprehensive, as I usually am on any long trip in unexplored situations. The same feeling I got in first crossing the Atlantic (both times), or racing from San Francisco to San Diego (3 times) on my ridiculously small yet excitingly fast 24 footer, with 3 other crew.
After saying my goodbyes to the denizens of Rose Harbour, we left about 10am and headed south along the most southern islands on the tip of South Moresby until we dived into the churning waters of Queen Charlotte Sound. I left on a short weather window with a northwesterly, which came up stronger the further south we went, until eventually I had the motor off and we were speeding along at between 6 and 8 knots under sail. However, instead of what I expected as clear skies, it was overcast and misty, visibility maybe a mile and a half. About 10 miles south, a fishing boat suddenly appeared, its course intercepting with mine so that I had to change course to avoid crashing into it. It was trolling slowly upwind.
Queen Charlotte Sound was chaotic in its wave patterns - big, close-together, south swell, a west swell, and a northwest swell all at once made Blue Bossa jump, shiver, and dance in an awkward and half-hazard way, making me hold onto the handrails inside the cabin like an old monkey in a hurricane. But it wasn't all that bad, and eventually, during the night, the seas piped down, as well as the northwest wind, and we eventually motored the rest of the way to Vancouver Island. During the night (which lasted from 10:30pm to 5:00am) I would check my position to verify that I was on course, and hope that I wouldn't run into any logs, since I wouldn't be able to see them (luckily, ever since leaving Haida Gwaii, I hadn't spotted any logs at all, so i was hoping that my luck would hold). I would also check at designated times on the VHF radio buoy reports to find out the conditions in front of me. It turned out that I needlessly worried, as the weather was fine during the whole trip. Nonetheless, the closer to dawn, the more I was yawning. It has been a long time since I did an all-nighter.
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| Sea Otter Cove |
Finally, at about 9am, we ended up in Sea Otter Cove, a very secure anchorage on the northern tip of Vancouver Island. It was a big cove and had 4 large mooring buoys in it, two of them occupied by a yacht and fishing boat. I took the 3rd one, and, once the boat was shut down and secured, I headed for my bunk to crash for about 6 hours. Hey, what can I say, I'm an old fart and need my sleep. The rest of the day, I lazed around, enjoying the warmth and sunshine, which was a major environmental culture shock.
Next day we headed to Winter Harbor, a small settlement in the upper arm of Quatsino Sound. At $1/foot, it was an expensive little place to tie up. It had a fuel dock, but the fuel was expensive, and I decided, after not been close to a supermarket for a month, that I would only stay there for a night and head to Coal Harbour, a port deep in the interior of Vancouver Island much closer to civilization. So we left the next day, trying to time it so that we could go through Quatsino Narrows which was the rather narrow and turbulent gate to Holbert Inlet where Coal Harbor was located.
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| Coal Harbour - doing laundry |
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I tied up to a assorted jumble of docks, where I was met by the Harbor Master, a portly, friendly Quatsino native. He explained that the Quatsino tribe now had controlling interests to running the harbor. During the winter time, it becomes a port of offloading for hundreds of sardine fishermen, who would catch a huge amount of sardines, pack them in ice and offload them in Coal Harbor. From there it would be trucked to the ferry in Nanaimo and end up in Vancouver to be processed. This represented a windfall for the marina, and they reinvested their dollars back into the marina with a new fuel dock, and nice bathroom and shower facilities. They still have a long ways to go for their docks, which are funky at best.
In the meantime, it was raining with signs of it clearing soon.
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| Route in Quatsino Sound |
I had a lot to do in the two days that I had planned to stay. The first day (after the Canadian holiday weekend), I boarded on a bus at 9am to head to the east side of Port Hardy (which I had stopped by on my way north last year) so I could get a bunch of cash, and do some heavy grocery shopping, enough to last me for the rest of my NW journeys. Because of the heavy load, I opted to take a taxi back (Coal Harbour is only about 15 miles from Port Hardy). After that, I filled up on fuel, which cost a big chunk of change, as I had put on a lot of motoring time. The next day, I changed the oil and filter and general maintenance of the engine, took a shower, and then headed back to Winter Harbour. I had forgotten that I was to pick up some mail that brother Rick and sent off weeks ago. However, there was no sign that the package had arrived, and having filled the boat with fresh water, I motored the short distance to Northern Inlet, where I spent the night. I motored back in my dinghy the next day to check the mail again, and no sign, so I instructed and payed the postmaster to send the package back to Rick's house. Hopefully there was nothing in it important.
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| Columbia Cove |
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| Columbia Cove |
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| A local in Scow Bay |
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| Another local - but different environmental medium |
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| Just a pdf, trunks, hat and glasses |
That afternoon, we upped the anchor and headed south, around the notorious Brooks Peninsula (West Vancouver's answer to Point Conception) with sunny skies, calm seas and wind, and headed east to Columbia Cove. What a nice place! The first thing I did was put on my bathing suit(!) and t-shirt and pulled my paddle board out and proceeded to explore kayak-style through all of the little places along the rocks (see the green line in the attached chart), but not before stopping by one of 2 other boats anchored there, a long and skinny Annapolis 44 in a distinctive green color called
Osprey to introduce myself and wondering what the boat was - it reminded me of a Bounty II, designed by Pearson when fiberglass boats were first being built. Steve and Elsie, the owners, later visited me on my boat, and we spent a nice hour chatting about our experiences. They have been up the Vancouver Island west coast 25 times (!) and knew it like the back of their hands - in fact, Elsie, who is a fantastic photographer, wrote a couple of books, one of them called "Voyages to Windward - Sailing Adventures on Vancouver Island's West Coast". As it happened, they had a couple of extra copies of that book on their boat, so I purchased one of them. I'm finding it a fascinating read, as well as useful.
The next morning, the
Osprey took advantage of a light southerly to get around Brooks Peninsula heading north, and
Blue Bossa headed south to Scow Bay, a dip in a series of islands called the Bunsby Islands. I had the Scow Bay all to myself, so the first thing I did was launch my kayak (this time in just my trunks and a lifejacket, it was so warm - what a gift!) and explored the inner recesses of a big lagoon, as well as crossing Gay Passage to explore another island (see green route on Bunsby Island chart). Up in the lagoon, I spied a ton of eagles, all sitting there looking regal and majestically swapping branches in the surrounding forest. I also saw a lot of sea otters, which are beginning to grow in larger numbers. The last time I saw sea otters was on Prince of Wales Island in Alaska. It was good to see them again. They're just so darn cute.
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| Another local - this time in Barter Bay |
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| Busy Walter Cove |
We left the next morning late to head south again. We were merging into traffic in Gay Passage with a 40' Nordhaven trawler yacht - I let him go first. I had thought he was going the same way I was going, but he turned into a bay on one of the Bunsby Islands called West Nook. In it was another Nordhaven trawler (probably 60+ feet) which looked to be a kayak charter vessel (but turns out that it's not, just a giant boat to take a couple from one spot to another), as well as a small sailboat - with the 40' Nordhaven, it would be a pretty crowded anchorage. In general, I am surprised that there are so many yachts up here…I didn't figure on it to be a milk run like the east side of Vancouver Isl. But so far, I've had pretty good luck in not getting too crowded conditions to stay at.
We continued heading south, stopping by to scan out Barter Cove in the Mission Group of Islands, in case we had to anchor their that night, then continued east to Walter's Cove, which lies tucked in Walter Island. Walter's cove is a larger than normal, bustling and pleasant settlement of private houses and sports fishing lodges, filled to the brim with excited sports fishermen (oddly enough). The dock that I tied up to was free (how about that?), and you could get around by way of a series of trails and boardwalks. A clearly marked trail lead me to the Walter Island beach where there were a bunch of driftwood (if in the water, they would be called deadheads) and some HUGE spruce trees. They had a little general store that carried more food products than I saw at Winter Harbour or Coal Harbour, and the lady there was very pleasant.
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| Entrance to Dixie Cove |
The next morning, I left the already bustling cove to head inland to Dixie Cove, a narrow entrance and beautiful long cove with an inner cove, where I anchored there for the night. It would make a terrific hurricane hole, as it is relatively shallow, and is completely land-locked. As beautiful as it was, there was nothing there to explore by kayak, so I mainly read and enjoyed the sunshine. When I left the next day, there was a sailboat anchored in the outer cove. That was nice of him to give me a little space.
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| Nuchatlitz |
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| One of many cabins in Nuchatlitz |
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| Oyster farm in Nuchatlitz |
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| Two Nordhavens in Nuchatlitz - fog is in background |
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| Strange places to kayak |
That day, I decided to make some tracks and head south. First we stopped at Blue Lips Cove, which was another pretty land locked anchorage. I stayed there for an hour having breakfast and enjoying the scenery, then headed out Amai Inlet to Rugged Point Marine Park, where the two Nordhavens that I saw earlier were anchored, and after rounding Rugged Point, dived in-between land and a bunch of craggy rocks called Clear Passage (only if you avoid the rocks). We eventually rounded into the next inlet called Esperanza Inlet, big fiords going in all directions. Not as majestic as Alaska fiords, but still very beautiful. At the south entrance of the inlet is a provincial park called Nuchatlitz, a series of low-lying islands all tied together by winding narrows. At the peninsula end, there are a number of houses used either for vacation, or, in some cases, people living there all year round and harvesting oysters, as there were a number of oyster farms in the area. This place was meant for kayakers - and I took advantage and explored all over the place, both when I got there, and the next day. Of course it absolutely helped having another perfect day, sunny, slightly windy, a beautiful sunset, etc. I mostly had it to myself. One of the house owners and his family came out to talk with me, interested in the boat design. They are from Seattle who purchased a small house for vacations years back and spending a couple of months a year in it and using their aluminum skiff for fishing. The guy used to commercial fish up and down the Vancouver Island west coast, so he knew where to catch fish and new all of the ins and outs of the area, even in heavy fog. He even gave me some salmon the next day. What a spectacular gift!
The next day, it was pea soup fog just breaking before Nuchatlitz. I waited until late afternoon to (a)wait for the fog to burn off and (b)wait for the flood to run, so that I could have a nice sail up the channel towards Zeballos. So during that time, I did some more kayaking, and visited the two Nordhavens that seem to be buddy-boating down the coast together.
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| Going up Esperanza Inlet |
So going wing-on-wing to the east was very pleasant until I reached Zeballos, the wind following me almost all the way through the various turns to get up there.
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| Zeballos - BB rafted up to a commercial boat |
Zeballos, however, is a run-down town, "frontier" in appearance, and nothing there of any substance except the beautiful scenery. Worse, there's a sardine loading plant where the refrigerator generator was going 24/7, and the people were busy offloading sardines. It was chaotic at best, but I managed to sleep through it, though I couldn't leave soon enough in the morning.
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| Route on the west coast of North Vancouver Island |
From there, it was a short trip to Tahsis Inlet and then north to the Tahsis community. And here I sit at the Westview Marina, enjoying the beautiful weather and chatting with the various sailboat cruisers here.
My next blog will probably come out of either Victoria or Friday Harbor. Until then, adios!
view from any house that I know. They put a lot of time, energy and money into their home and it shows. Their next door neighbor had a bullet-proof mooring buoy on the canal, which I was able to use, going back and forward using the dinghy (without engine), and then using his clothesline rig that he had set-up.
