Sailing De Novo: Desolation Sound and Discovery Islands

Hi everyone! We're still here! We wanted to connect earlier, but we just didn't have enough coverage in the north end of the Salish Sea.

Heading North

The plan was to rush up Vancouver Island's East Coast so we could spend more time on the wild West Coast. But there were plenty of time and plenty to see on the way.

Kendrick Island off of Valdes Island

View of downtown Nanaimo from Saysutchan / Newcastle Island

Dirty, gross sailors after a hike around Saysutchan

Good winds in the Strait of Georgia

Quathiaski Cove, facing Discovery Passage. We arrived after fighting a 5+ knot food current, so it wasn't an easy anchorage to get into. Once inside though, it was completely calm.

Sailing among rip tides and whirlpools as we wait for slack at Seymour Narrows

Fog north of Seymour Narrows

A Change of Plans; Discovery in the Discovery Islands

Forecasts called for northwest 25-35 knots in Johnstone and Queen Charlotte Straits for the foreseeable future. That's not fun even if we weren't tacking back and forth in a narrow channel, making little progress, fighting current and dodging tows. That’s a lot of wind right on our nose. Adding hull speed, that wind could grow easily to the 40s. And it was growing at the cape.

We hoped to round Vancouver Island before the autumn squalls set in. Once around Nahwitti Bar and Cape Scott, we could find refuge in the west coast’s deep and varied inlets. That is, if we could get past the cape in time. And we didn’t want to be out on the exposed coast after the equinox. As we waited out weather, our proposed long saunter down the west coast was starting to feel rushed.

And then Dave said those five little words every woman longs to hear: what if we sailed downwind? Huh. What if we didn’t round the cape after all? What if we didn’t fight headwinds for days on end just to wait out weather that may not arrive this late in the summer? We’re the only ones pushing for this route, so why push at all?

Instead we swung around and enjoyed fair winds, following seas, and some beautiful anchorages of the Passes: Forward Harbour, Cordero Islands, Shoal Bay, Stuart Island, and, as a nod to our 2018 voyage, Wiatt Bay in Quadra's Octopus Islands. We chose areas based on winds and spontaneity and stayed as long as we pleased.

Cruising without a schedule is nice!

Mama and two baby black bears in the Cordero Islands. She was teaching her cubs how to search for clams and crabs under rocks.

Anchored in Douglas Bay, Forward Harbour / ƛəx̌əᵂəyəm, totally calm

Hiking a landslide-turned creek down the harbor from Douglas Bay

Bessbrough Bay, a short hike across Thynne Peninsula from Douglas Bay

Running with very little sail area out; we found we often needed to slow down while waiting for slack at various rapids. With so much wind behind us, even a sliver of canvas could push us to hull speed.

Shoal Bay on East Thurlow Island. I wish I took a picture of the grounds: cute rustic cottages, a charming garden, delightful people in a delightful place. Once the largest town in the area in the late 1800s, it was mostly abandoned until recently. Mark MacDonald bought the land in 2000 and has been rebuilding it ever since. Even the destruction of the main lodge by fire hasn't slowed him down or dampened his mood. When we arrived at the outdoor pub, Mark said he enforced "grumpy hour" instead of happy hour and promised us a mediocre time. But with excellent company and good local spirits, he couldn't keep that promise: this place is definitely happy.

Garden on Shoal Bay; harvest available to any visitor who cares to pitching in some gardening time
--a great deal for cruisers like us who've gone without fresh produce for a while!

View of Shoal Bay, halfway up the mountain on the challenging Goldmine Hike

Above view, zoomed in; De Novo anchored just a ways off the float

Goldmine near the peak at Shoal Bay

Several shafts opened in the floor to lower levels, now blocked off with slats; we couldn't imagine the dangerous and claustrophobic conditions men had to endure to work here in the early to mid 1900s. Sadly, we didn't find dragon treasure...or dragons.

Sea lions wholly unimpressed with our skillful early transit through Qudǝs/ Gillard Rapids

Stuart Island Community Docks, Stuart Island

In an island of lodges and summer homes for the uber rich, this community dock and the trails they maintain provide access to the island for the rest of us.

(Fortunately, the Kwiakah Nation has also retained some land on the northeast side of the island.)

Local charm on Eagle Lake on Stuart Island

Bassett Bay, Stuart Island

Looking east from Waitt Bay, Quadra Island. Our dinghy, Boo, in the foreground. De Novo in the background.

Newton Lake on Quadra Island

Desolation Sound and the Surrounding Area

Oh Desolation Sound. Where there’s hype, there’s usually a crowd, and where there’s a crowd, there’s usually frustration. The mere anticipation of frustration led us to skip the area in earlier cruises.

First impressions? Overrated. Manson’s Landing and Gorge Harbour were so congested, we struggled to find good anchorage. Boats hooked dangerously close to one another in windy, rocky shoals with only the occasional fender to keep them from colliding. After the spacious bays further north, we weren’t impressed.

However, when I used to complain about traffic in Seattle, I was reminded that I’m not stuck in traffic; I am the traffic. Whether in a car or boat, we’re just as inconvenient to others as they are to us. While driving, I just learned to leave work later or listen to audiobooks. Desolation Sound also requires flexibility from boaters, and that’s not a bad thing. Anchorage too crowded? Go somewhere else. Bottom too rocky or deep? Add a stern tie. Too much or not enough wind? Adjust the sails or change the course.

First impressions can be deceiving. Captain Vancouver’s initial response to the area was so negative, he saw the lands as “inhospitable...gloomy and dismal” and wouldn’t let any evidence to the contrary change his mind. The high peaks and rocky beaches led him to believe it was void of resources--a silly assumption given the Sliammon, Klahoose, and Homalco lived here in abundance for millennia. His rigidity led him to name the area Desolation Sound.

Granted, Vancouver and his men arrived on an especially rainy summer. Their food stores were nearly depleted. They were disappointed they weren’t the first Europeans in the area, and even more disappointed they couldn’t find a route to the Atlantic. They were hangry and pissy, and I can often relate.

But as cruisers, if we stuck to our first impressions, we’d never dig deeper and get to know the places we visit. And the more we dug into Desolation Sound and the greater surrounding islands, the deeper we sailed, the more we enjoyed them.

In fact, there’s very little not to love about the area. The people are warm and lovely, a testament to the history of this place. The Sliammon, Klahoose, and Homalco would winter together in Kahkaykay (near present day Grace Harbour), often in the same longhouses. They would share information and resources, finding their strengths lay in cooperation rather than competition. Archeological digs found they gathered like this for thousands of years, until the 1860s when Roman Catholic priests forced them to separate in their divide-convert-conquer missions. Still, it was remarkable three otherwise proudly independent nations would grow so close, a relationship that has survived to this day.

Similarly, early pioneers found their survival depended on their ability to support one another. Books listed at the end of this post count several instances where settlers provided free labor, medical assistance, and food to one another, especially through the harsh winters. We noticed residents and boaters continue to help one another today.

And the hikes! The hikes are fantastic! Anchored in the particularly peaceful Lagoon Falls, the name locals gave the first bay in Háthayim/ Von Donop Marine Park, we could reach nearly all of Cortes Island by foot. I wrote in my journal at the time:

Hikes around the lagoon became longer treks and we entered rainforest both unfamiliar and innately known. We bathed in lakes. We languished under the stars and found meaning in their stories. We ran with the wolves and wrestled a cougar. We traced our stories along the deep grooves of fir trees and buried them in the mossy undergrowth. Ferns grew over these memories until we forgot the old ways. Autumn fell and we washed ourselves anew in the rain. Winter arrived, and we grew quiet, restful. Spring approached and with it, new passion, life. Seasons came and went and with them, new wisdom and roots. On the boat previously known as De Novo, the anchor chain had long rusted, replaced with long tendrils of kelp--home to generations of sentient life. Civilizations rose and fell. In the absence of time, we grew wild as we grew old...and young. Soon we could no longer see where we ended and the forest began.

This may have happened. Or perhaps we just stayed there five days and remembered what it meant to fall in love with a place. I'll let you decide.

TL;DR? I finally get the hype about Desolation Sound. It rocks. In reality, it’s not more special than any other place we visited on the BC and Alaskan coast. We find they all have their unique charms if we’re willing to stick around and search for them.

Sailing up Sutil Channel

Our slice of paradise in Háthayim/ Von Dolop; lagoon in the background

So many little fairy kingdoms

A rain shelter for weary kayakers and hikers in Von Donop. A guest book inside allows everyone to share their Von Donop story. I hid several of my mom's painted rocks on this trip; until someone finds it and rehides it, one is hidden here. Avid hikers will need to find the rest on trails in the Salish Sea.

The lagoon behind De Novo at Von Donop, a waterfall most hours...

But an accessible new world to explore at high water slack

The "view" at Cliff Peak, a steep hike made more challenging with unexpected torrential rains.

Our shorts and t-shirts were soaked and my bones were chilled.

This picture may look anticlimactic, but it was hard won!

Sailing in Lewis Channel

Anchored in Teakerne Arm

According to Dave, the waterfall at Teakerne makes a refreshing shower. It was raining that day, so I took his word for it.

Early twentieth century logging donkey, used to lower logs carried to Cassel Lake above to Teakerne Arm. They were called donkeys because they had less than one horsepower. :)

Refuge Cove on West Redonda, the social gathering place for early pioneers. As the one post office in Desolation Sound at the time, everyone arrived by boat once a week to pick up their mail and catch up on happenings around the islands.

We loved the atmosphere here. Several bands from neighboring islands played a live concert on the dock. The dock filled with locals, and most everyone either knew someone in the bands or were in at least one of the bands. In a town of twelve residents and no access roads, everyone arrives by water. Similarly, towns like this were used for social dances in the early twentieth century. Visitors would dance all night, stopping only until 6 or 7 am, when it was safe to boat home. It isn't much different now.