May 1st (Day 4), Continued:
We lost reception just south of Halfmoon Bay, so I’m glad I uploaded the last post just in time. Once here, we pulled up to the visitors’ dock for a free 2-hour visit. We couldn’t bring produce over the Canadian border, so we planned to buy some once underway, and we knew Halfmoon Bay would provide the last store for a while. Their supplies were limited, but the storekeeper was very kind, even gifting us more potatoes than we initially bought.
We found the town as charming as the shopkeeper, with bungalows overlooking a creek and driftwood fences enclosing duck ponds. Every detail about this town spoke of the care the residents put into maintaining it. Definitely recommended for a lazy stop.
This morning, we bade farewell to Cailin. She would take a bus down the Sunshine Coast Highway where her partner’s mother would pick her up and drive her to the ferry dock that would take her across Howe Sound back to Vancouver; her partner would then use a car share to drive her back to New Westminster. Thank you, Anthony and Donna, for helping with the logistics!
After returning to the Strait of Georgia, we decided that we didn’t want to trade diesel for miles, so we decided to sail today, regardless of the wind. At some points, we traveled close to 8 knots; at others, 2. We had a favorable current to thank for the higher speeds.
We anchored in Blubber Bay, at the north end of Texada Island.
May 3rd (Day 6):
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| Ahh, downwind sailing at last |
We do dishes every morning with salt water, buckets, and a freshwater spray bottle in the cockpit; with the extra time today, we let them air dry as we sipped coffee and prepared a fancy breakfast. After a few days of rushing, it felt nice to slow down. We left at 11 am, knowing we could sail slowly in light winds but motor straight to our waypoint if we were to drift too slowly. We passed Jervis Inlet to our starboard, quietly accepting we couldn’t return to Princess Louisa Inlet this year. As tempting as it was, we had a timeline to keep and miles to go before we sleep.
A couple humpback whales swam near, and in an effort not to overwhelm them, we stayed about 1000 feet away, slowly drifting further. Super majestic.
I was a little nervous about Beazley Passage and Surge Narrows, knowing the rapids can hit 12 knots—almost twice our boat’s hull speed—at full flood. Besides Deception Pass in Washington, we didn't have much experience with passes and really didn't know how we'd handle.
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| Coming up to the passes |
We had the enormous bay to ourselves—save for seabirds and seals—and we leisurely found our way to a cozy fishbowl nook near the trailhead to spend the night.
May 4th (Day 7):
Another wonderfully lazy morning. After packing our bag and donning our muck boots, we paddled to shore for the day’s hike. It felt good to be among thick, lush forest again. We traversed the steep path up to Newton Lake and picnicked on a tall bluff. We felt, and continue to feel, so lucky to be experiencing this adventure together.
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| Lake Newton |
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| De Novo at anchor |
May 5th (Day 8):
Today was sunny, so we decided to do laundry. This entails buckets of water with a touch of biodegradable detergent and a teaspoon of lemon ammonia. We use a plunger device to pull out dirt and elbow grease to rub out stains. We then hang the clothes on our lifelines t
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| Abandoned home in Waiatt |
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| Sea life in Octopus Islands |
Speaking of sun, we’re glad we added solar panels this year. Even on overcast and rainy days, our solar is keeping us topped off. We no longer need to worry about the draw of the fridge or electronics, and we haven’t fallen below 12.9 amps once!
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| Matilpi at sunset |
We timed the Okisollo Channel and headed out to Johnstone Strait. This strait is known for big weather but we saw none of it. Regardless, we had stunning views of the mountains in all directions, and we felt proud to be the lone sailboat among a fleet of large power yachts.
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| Views from Johnstone Strait |
We pulled in at Matilpi in Havannah Channel for the night. Matilpi was a large Kwakwaka’wakw village, abandoned last century when the residents moved to Turnour Island. It was raining hard when we anchored but we could still see the white of the midden beach among a backdrop of gray forest. Even the dullest days are gorgeous out here.
May 7th (Day 10):
We made our way across Knight Inlet and up Tribune Channel today. It was quiet with very few other boats in the area, so we felt we entered our own wonderland once again. We tacked back and forth along rock cliffs, waterfalls, and snow-capped mountains in awe of it all.
In the curve of Tribune Bay, the wind fell behind us and we sailed downwind to Kwatsi Bay. We radioed the Kwatsi Bay Marina owner to ask if there was room for us at his dock, and he simply laughed. No other boats were in the vicinity, and no one has been there for days.
Kwatsi Bay Marina consists of a long dock in protected Kwatsi Bay. Large cliffs of spruce and douglas fir loom over us in nearly a perfect wheel, waterfalls indenting the wheel like spokes. The owners, Max and Anca, have made a life for themselves and their children—now grown and moved away—at the head of the biggest waterfall. (pictures to come)
Max pulled out some chairs, and we sat on the dock. He brought tasty homemade salsa, and we brought a variety of chips and crackers. And there we sat, chatting among the sounds of the rushing waterfall and overlooking the snow peak across the bay. Barn swallows flew ahead, and seals splashed around the docks, but most of all we enjoyed hearing Max’s stories of fishing off the coast and wintering here so far from any town.
Tomorrow we plan to hike the short trail up the waterfall before sailing into the Northern Broughtons. We’re having a blast. To all our friends who sail: sail north. It’s magic up here.
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