Cape Caution and Beyond

 May 12 (Day 15):

Our voyage from Port Hardy to Allison Harbour on the mainland provided a good, full day of sailing. We expected high winds out of the northeast and found them. With winds from 15-25 knots and gusts from 25-28, we reefed both the main and jib on a close haul. Fortunately, we could fall off the wind after rounding the Walker and Deserters Island group, and we had Allison Harbour in our sight.

Allison Harbour provides a welcome respite to the weary sailor. Tucked behind a bluff that blends seamlessly into the surrounding shoreline, a narrow passageway opens to a long, open, and most importantly, calm inlet. It’s a favored spot for cruising boats to wait out the weather around Cape Caution, and without our charts, we wouldn't have known it was there.  

The waves crashed nearly vertical against the entrance, and we aggressively dodged every submerged rock and floating log as we managed to furl in our jib and flake pull down our mainsail. Once over the threshold to the inlet, things got easy again, and we tucked in behind the other four boats in the head of the bay for the night.

Refuge inside the calm waters of Allison Harbour

May 13 (Day 16):

From a mariner’s point of view, the most significant landmarks are called “capes.” Horn, Good Hope, Cod, Hatteras…the list is well known. Cape Caution marks the most significant passage on the British Columbia coast; rounding it is a nautical coming of age…Serious cruisers who [cross it] enter a fraternity of mutual respect where they experience the space, the solitude, and the silence of one of the world’s wildest coastlines.

–Roderick Frazier Nash

Cape Caution is the first open ocean exposure on the Inside Passage, so it carries a tremendous amount of power and respect from northbound first-timers (like us). Even the name evokes trepidation and second thought. 

      

We chose today to cross because the weather report promised the calmest conditions. 10-15 knots from the northwest with swells of 2 meters seemed perfect for our first cape crossing, at least when compared to the forecast for other days. But Environment Canada was clearly mistaken, as it often is. 

The fog rolled in early in the morning and stayed there, shrouding the inlet in a thick mist. But we timed our departure at 8am so we would pass Slingsby Channel at slack tide.

Just south of the cape, Slingsby Channel provides the outflow of Nakwakto Rapids, and sailing past it at the wrong time can seriously churn up the sea. Big westerly swell with an ebb current from this channel results in big, steep seas and queasy crew, so we wanted to avoid that!

Fog outside of Allison Harbour

Still enveloped in fog, we motored through South Passage, avoiding the infamous offshore rock field. There was very little wind, much less than we hoped. Every breeze we felt, we’d turn off the engine and attempt to sail. With the seas higher in feet than the wind in knots, our sails would luff and we’d stand still. After several minutes of false and foolish hope, we’d give up and turn on the engine again. We followed this routine many times as the hours pressed on. 

I’m sure the cape was beautiful. I’m sure, had we been able to see it in the distance, we would have celebrated the momentous occasion with a toast. But to us, motoring around a cape didn’t hold the same romance or awe as hoisting the sails and harnessing the winds around it. So we simply shrugged and motored on. 

But then we crossed the northern tip of the cape and reached Rivers Inlet. Wind rolled in and the fog lifted, revealing a landscape more gorgeous than we imagined. Here it was. All of Northern BC unraveled before us in its glory—snowcap peaks, boundless untouched forests, and white sand beaches. We had arrived.

And all the romance and awe we lost in the fog came rushing back. The fact that we motored instead of sailed around the cape no longer mattered. We made it. We arrived, and after years of preparation, hard work, and learning, we now get to explore one of the most beautiful and remote areas of the world. 

      

For the last two hours of the passage, we downwind sailed in some of the best conditions we’d seen on the trip. A steady 15 knots and flat seas led us up to the entrance of our anchorage in Fury Cove (Penrose Island) where we tucked in among several other boats who had made the same journey. Together, we reveled in our “fraternity of mutual respect [to] experience the space, the solitude, and the silence of one of the world’s wildest coastlines.”

Great sailing in Rivers Inlet

Great sailing in Rivers Inlet

We made it!

Tucked into Fury Cove

On a separate note, Happy Mothers’ Day to Nancy and Ellen. Thank you for instilling in us a sense of truth and a respect for nature and thank you for supporting our dreams, however crazy they may be. J

May 14 (Day 17):

My god, Fury Cove is spectacular. Its white sandy beaches and emerald waters seem almost tropical. The 70+ degree weather (21+ Celsius) doesn’t hurt either.

There seems to be a shared camaraderie among the boaters here. While most boaters generally keep to themselves further south, cruisers here may slow their dinghies when passing an anchored boat, ready to share stories or places of interest. Sailboater, motorboater, dinghier (word?), rower, or paddleboater, we all share an immense love of the sea and its wild places. 

We spent the day exploring every beach we could, pulling up our kayak over rocks and paddling to the next one, and the next. The stretch of beaches seemed endless. Some were midden shell, some sand, all enchanting. “Midden shell beach” is an archaeology term, and it's fascinating. If interested, you can read more about it here. Understanding midden beaches reminds us that we are just visitors to these lands; this has been home to people for thousands of years.

Carrying our kayak over the tidepools

Abandoned shelter on shore

The keel of an old ship, washed up on one of the beaches

May 15 (Day 18):

Through the break in the islands, we could see wind start to whip up the fog. It was time to leave our treasured anchorage and cross Fitz High Sound to Pruth Bay. And like that, all the sailboats pulled up their anchors simultaneously and moved out of the cove and into open water. A fleet of sailors is like a flock of birds; when something in the wind instinctively tells us to go, we do.

The wind picked up again at the entrance to Kwakshua Channel on the north side of Calvert Island. With winds of 20-24, we decided to reef but otherwise tacked quickly through it. 

Safely anchored in the head of Pruth Bay, we kayaked to the docks of the Hakai Institute, signed their guest book, and enjoyed their well-kept trails. Love and care are clearly put into this facility, and we’re thankful they have opened it up to visiting boaters. They make some great contributions in the fields of conservation and coastal research, and you can read more about them here. The grounds seemed like a utopia to us, and we wouldn’t mind living and working there (hear that, Hakai Institute?).

The institute’s West Beach Trail opened to an enormous beach. Imagine the California coast, but with evergreens and hawks circling above. Bald eagles everywhere! As common as seagulls anywhere else! And no crowds. Another couple about a half-mile down the shore. A man and his dogs an hour later. That’s it.

We hiked across Hood Lake to the North Beach, just as beautiful. After a short picnic, we picked up our jaws and returned to the boat.

Beautiful Hakai Institute

May 16 (Day 19):

We decided to check out the trail to the radio tower, a trail listed in one of our older cruising guides. We realize now that its omission from the newer cruising guides may have been a sign it was no longer in use.

We kayaked the nearly two nautical miles into Keith Anchorage, made easy by favorable current and winds. Though we found a ribbon where the trail used to be, we found little else. Bushwacking through overgrown blackberry bushes, we decided to forge on, believing the trail would clear as we made our way through the densest trees. Only an overgrowth of devil's club changed our mind, and we returned to the boat to continue looking for the trailhead further up the inlet.

No luck, but we did meet a curious friend. A seal played around our boat, popping its head up around our kayak and surveying us from all sides. It seemed a game for him; as soon as we'd see him, he'd pop back down and swim under the kayak once more.

As expected, the paddle back to the boat was much harder than the way there. After entering the main channel, we were hit with the same winds we reefed in when sailing De Novo the day before and an opposing current. Not fun in our old inflatable kayak. We found our trusty two-person Sea Eagle on Ebay several years ago for $150, and it's carried us without complaint or trouble through some memorable times. But it's not exactly fast.

So on we slogged, resting at an overhanging branch ever so often. De Novo grew larger, and soon we pulled our tired, listless bodies over her swim ladder. Within an hour, I was fast asleep, and Dave was restless and ready to paddle into shore again. Of course. :)

The Broughtons

Hi everyone!

We still don't know why MarineTraffic.com isn't picking up our position. We radioed a nearby fishing crew to check our ship-to-ship signal, and they confirmed it was still working (and wished us a very pleasant day of sailing, which was nice of them). Oh well, if that's the only thing not working so far, we can be thankful.

Ok, now on to the fun stuff!

The falls at Kwatsi Bay Marina

Kwatsi Bay Marina

The view from our impromptu "Happy Hour" with Max (see previous post)

May 8th (Day 11):

We left Kwatsi Bay and headed out to sunshine and calm seas. We sailed drifted down Tribune Channel for a couple hours before hearing whale spray nearby. We saw fin and tail dive near Burdwood Islands and then again several times as it made its way along the mainland shore. Cross-referencing the approximate length, spray shape, and coloring with our trusty whale field guide, we think it may have been a Minke; however, only the whale knows for sure.

Beautiful Tribune Channel

Right outside Kwatsi Bay

The wind picked up as we left the channel and suddenly we were moving. Like, really moving! 0-20 knots from the west, no the south, no the southwest, no the north? It couldn't make up its mind, but at least we were sailing!

Gusts swung around from all directions until we were nearly 50 yards from Pierre's Echo Bay Marina in Echo Bay. Apparently, we gave everyone there quite a show while taking down the main. To flake a mainsail properly, we should point directly in the wind, not an easy task when the wind shifts every ten seconds! We broke our "no non-reciprocal moorage" rule once again, and are we glad we did! This marina is its own little paradise.

Helpful

Midden beach in the foreground

A friendly goldendoodle greeted us on the dock with his human, Sam. Sam works at the marina and lives in the floating home community. He warned us they were not yet open for the season and could not supply us with shore power or WiFi, so they'd only charge us half of the rate. This was generous, as we much more interested in the ambiance of the community than anything electricity or Internet could offer.

With our new canine friend, we explored the area, trekking over to Proctor Bay and to Billy Proctor's Museum. Billy Proctor is a well-known community fixture, and he's been collecting BC coastal artifacts since he was five years old. He built a two-room structure to house his immense collection of antique bottles and vases, historic spirits, First Nations tools and crafts, documents, steam engine parts, signs, letters, and other odds and ends on its several aisles. It was extraordinary, and we could have easily stayed all evening there.

When Billy saw us walking toward his museum, he hiked up from his dock and met us there. Now in his 80s, he seems a bit more hunched than his pictures in our older cruising guides, but he's still a spitfire. He unlocked the museum and laughed, "Oh, it must be tourist season again; I only unlocked this about a week ago" and jokingly (we think) chastised the dog for not keeping the vagrants out. Billy has led a remarkable life here in the Broughtons. You can read more about him here and here.

Proctor Bay

Billy's Museum

The Elementary School

We were happy to see another sailboat at Echo Bay, the first we'd seen since we saw one fishing outside Octopus Islands. One of the crew members was an Englishman who had sailed around the world with his wife in the 80s. They crossed the Red Sea with very inaccurate charts from the 1840s and spent a couple of years in Hong Kong. 

May 9th (Day 12):

After a short walk, we headed out again in the confused wind, but it seemed to grow more steady once we left Echo Bay and entered Penphrase Passage on the north side of Broughton Island. We tacked back and forth until the light mist turned to rain and the rain turned to hail. Hail!

We anchored outside Broughton Lagoon at the entrance of Greenway Sound. Again, a place all to ourselves. Quiet and magical.

Novi in Greenway Sound

Once the hook was set, we explored by kayak. We paddled to the south entrance to the lagoon, but the rapids were too strong against us. After several hours of following the shoreline and investigating every almost-trail, mossy plantlife, and sea creature, we entered the current on the northside. The current sent us winding through a path to the open lagoon. After exhausting our trail mix rations, we exhausted our muscles getting back through. Dave was fine, but I spent the rest of the evening huddled in the vberth with a couple Icy Hot patches and a good dose of Ibuprofin. Totally worth it.

Broughton Lagoon

Lots of current!



Novi's so close! Just a little more paddling! 

May 10th (Day 13):

The wind was steady, and we upped the anchor and tacked back and forth through Sutlej Channel and Patrick Passage, dodging trawling fishing boats along the way. In Wells Channel, we found cell service on the mainland side, so for 4-5 minutes before each port tack, we'd be able to catch up on one important text or email. We tacked quite a few times in this area, so we were able to get a lot done before reaching Queen Charlotte Strait.

The steady 15-20 knots apparent continued in the strait, so we were making good time to Port Hardy. Suddenly, 15-20 became 20-30 and some considerable chop, so we reefed both sails. How come we always seem to be going upwind when this happens?

Once inside Port Hardy's harbour, we docked up to the Fishermen's Wharf and relaxed a bit.


May 11th (Day 14):

We finished boat chores and provisioned at the Save-On market down the road. The fresh produce and eggs alone were worth the side trip. We will need to ration it wisely, as we won't see fresh food again until Shearwater.

Port Hardy Fishermen's Wharf

As I'm writing this, Dave's calling me up to the cockpit. Sea lions!

  

The Passes

May 1^st (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.   

May 2^nd (Day 5):

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 3^rd (Day 6):

Ahh, downwind sailing at last

We took our time this morning as we didn’t need to hit slack tide at Beazley Passage/ Surge Narrows, about 35 miles away, until 8pm. 

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.

Coming up to the passes

But the slack proved easy and calm, and we slowly meandered our way through to Waiatt Bay in twilight. 

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 4^th (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.

Lake Newton

De Novo at anchor

May 5^th (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 to dry in the sun. With clothes drying, we explored the islands by kayak.

Abandoned home in Waiatt

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!

May 6^th (Day 9):

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.

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 7^th (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.

P.S. I don’t know why our AIS tracker stopped tracking us. Hopefully, it picks up again soon.