Back to the Broughtons

The Central Coast

After leaving Shearwater we make the short crossing to Bella Bella for fuel and water. The water there is good, unlike the tannin induced water available most places on the Central Coast that carries health warnings. Unlike other native communities we have seen, Bella Bella looks drab and depressed. We don't explore further to find out, but rather keep the memory of places like Hartley Bay.

                                                         
                                                        Eagles Scrounge in Bella Bella

At Codville Lagoon that night we have drinks aboard Rarebird, another Beneteau. We keep sharing anchorages with John and Kim, from Anacortes, Washington, and have taken the initiative to meet. We became friends. Boating is like that ...... a commonality that bonds.

The next day we move down to Pruth Bay, where we had stopped on the way up. The attraction is the short hike to the wild beach with sandy beach and grass covered dunes facing the Pacific. It's one of those places you can't get enough of.

                                                   Tidal pools - Is there a painting there? 

The literature of mariners is rich with stories of human encounters with weather at sea. Sailors are, by nature, obsessed with gazing into the weather crystal ball. Ours is the weather channel on VHF radio. Knowing of the dangers that could await us in Queen Charlotte Sound and around Cape Caution, we listen attentively and take notes. The next few days provide a “window”, as light variable winds are forecast. The tides, currents, sun and stars, are all aligned.

We move on to Fury Cove, that cozy little cove with white sand and shell beach that overlooks Fitz Hugh Channel. The evening treats us to a rare sunset and the peaceful sounds of waterfowl settling for the night. Larry saves his occasional drams of scotch for nights like this.

                                                Sunset from the Cockpit in Fury Cove

The passage around the cape is under perfect conditions – calm, flat seas and a flood tide that boosts our speed by over a knot. On days like this, it's easy to forget the fury of the sea. We had hoped to raise sails and go with the predicted northwest winds, but there's not a breath of it. With west coast wind, it seems that there either too much or too little to sail by ........ or blowing right on the nose.

Our next stop is Miles Inlet, a narrow slash of water into the mainland, the head of which leads to a labyrinth of rocky channels that exit into a vast lagoon. The following day, under sunny skies, we take the kayak into this salt water lake, which is surrounded by rock strewn shores and stunted cedar snags. Least Sandpipers flit along the shores, Kingfishers sit patiently in overhanging boughs, and a Northern Coshawk darts and dives through the air. The stillness of the place is haunting. We scoot back before the changing tide prevents us from doing so ....... the secret door that closes behind you, leaving this magic place safe from the outside world.

Back to the Broughton Islands

West coast weather being what it is, thick fog the next morning greets us for the start of our 30 mile trip south to Blunden Harbour. In spite of modern electronic navigational aids it is difficult and tiring to keep on course. With no visual landmarks to focus on, it's like being in the pitch dark ..... only white darkness. Did we mention before, our autopilot has ceased functioning altogether, our “ship's engineer” unable to bleed out the air locked hydraulic lines? But large rocks and small islets emerge, ghost-like, out of the mist where they are supposed to be. But still, it's hard to relax, with the ever present danger of drifting logs that can do serious damage to prop or rudder.

                                                  Cruising down Fitz Hugh Channel

But the passage is smooth and we reach Blunden Harbour by mid-day. Because of the predicted strong northwest winds, we stay two nights. With its shallow bottoms and thick, sticky mud bottom that sucks up anchors, it's the ideal place to be in bad weather. Although the sun shines, the winds blows constantly over those two days, gusting at times to over 40 knots.

                                                    Queen Charlotte Strait: Fog Lifting

With a week left until we reach Port McNeil, Pam has run out of books to read. Books keep us anchored, so to speak, create a diversion, keep us alive in some other time and place.

“What will you do?” Larry questions, seeing her sitting in the cockpit gazing across the bay.

“Oh, I don't know”, she sighs, “become one with nature”.

Fortunately, Pam is self-motivated and has other interests, and soon she is happily engaged in her artistic endeavours down in the cabin. Her “living journal”, made from hand decorated papers and collected natural seashore fibers, captures the essence of our chosen life.

We are going to McNeil in a few days to meet up with Lee and Laila Corbin, our dear friends from Port Townsend. They will spend 6 days with us in the Broughton Islands, an area full of twisting waterways and places to explore. It is also rich with past and present native culture, as well as wonderful stories and remnants of the white mans' exploitation. We know, and must accept, that there will be many more boats out there that we will have to share bays with. Our slow re-entry into the crowded world again.

                                                Port McNeil Lighthouse Welcomes Us Back

We move down Queen Charlotte Strait and onto Claydon Bay, where we know there is good crabbing. The weather is typical “broughton-ish” ........... low grey skies greet the morning and slowly burn off sometime in the afternoon, giving way to sun. The bay is full of commercial crab pots and we get nothing keepable. Why does our culture insist on stripping everything bare? We will go to Port McNeil for two nights and overdose on civilization – supermarkets, internet, restaurants, laundry.