Leg 7, Liz McLoughlin and Tom Hall
W. Coast of Vancouver Island – Winter Harbour to Tofino
July 30 - August 11, 2004

Friday, July 30 (Winter Harbour to Julian Cove, Quatsino Sound; 3.0 hours, 20.8 miles). We awoke to an almost clear sky and quite a breeze from the NW, a breeze which grew stronger with the morning. After breakfast we had showers, Liz took pictures of the fine board walk, almost a mile long in total counting both directions, and then off the dock in a flurry of bow thruster during between 20-knot puffs. Our trip down Forward Inlet and up Quatsino Sound went well. During our cruise we started yet another book by Bishop John Spong, Resurrection: Myth or Reality, and it promises to be as good as the other two we have read so far. Regrettably, our travels to the interior of Vancouver Island took us past atrocious clearcuts in all directions. It is inconceivable that Ministry of Forestry officials would continue to approve contracts calling for huge clearcuts on such steep slopes, some already showing the near permanent scars of large mud slides. We passed at least three log booming areas, saw a number of dust clouds rising out of the woods indicating log truck traffic below, and saw five salmon fish farms. Last year we read of a governmental commitment to add 100 fish farm sites during the next 10 years and clearly Quatsino is doing its bit toward that goal. Alaska does not permit farmed fish and BC is promoting it. In previous years we visited several fish farms in kayaks and the picture was not pretty to the point that we no longer eat farmed fish.The entrance into Julian Cove was easy, no other boats in sight, a clear sky and ideal temperature, a mature second growth forest all around with only a distant clearcut visible, and with the steep mountain rising directly from the SE shore of the cove, what more could we ask?

Saturday, 31 (Julian Cove to Klaskish Basin, at the NE base of Brooks Peninsula; 5.7 hours, 37.5 miles). Up early and underway at 5:45 to catch the last of the ebb tide and minimize the NW winds once we reached the Pacific. A beautiful dawn looking aft to the sunrise over the mountains to the east and a golden glow as the sun moved downs the mountains to the west. Once again past the giant A-frame log hoists, not yet in action, the clearcuts rising to the mountains, the mud slide areas, and five fish farms. We were passed by quite a few small, fast day fishing boats and on rounding Kwakiutil Point found 22 boats bunched together trying to catch the fish as they entered Quatsino Sound. Our route south across Klassino Inlet into Brooks Bay and then Klaskish Inlet went well and though the 3- to 5-foot quartering seas were lumpy, the stabilizers made the passage comfortable. We passed Gould Rock, entered Klaskish Inlet, framed by pyramid-shaped 2930-foot Harris Peak, and then into mile-long Klaskish Basin. The entrance is deep but very narrow, both sides rise up 1000 feet or more, and the inlet ends in a long meadow and stream. With gusts up to 20 knots, too much for kayaks, we spent the afternoon reading and working on website and log.
Sunday, August 1 (Klaskish Basin to West Nook, in Gay Passage between the Bunsby Islands; 5.5 hours, 34,4 miles). Up at 5:30 AM, underway at 5:50 after dealing with a well set and muddy anchor, and out of the basin in a dead calm with a setting full moon right in front of us and three moored sailboats in the foreground. It was magical. As we left the entrance to the basin Tom saw, and was about to steer around, an apparent log with several small branches extending up from it. Surprise! It was a sea otter, on his back and with two hind flippers sticking out of the water. We chugged on by, two boat lengths away, a mutual admiration, or curiosity society. The otter was as interested in us as we in the otter. After clearing Klaskish Inlet we turned to the southwest for a two-hour cruise along the northern boundary of Brooks Peninsula. This six-mile peninsula, rectangular in shape and unique on the west coast of Vancouver Island, is a hazardous obstacle for boats of all sizes. With high terrain, bold shores, many submerged and awash rocks to the north and south, it forces the prevailing northwesterly winds to go over and around, with the result that you have williwaws on the south side and gales near the western end. We had a very lumpy 4-6-foot beam sea until we were at last able to turn south to transit the short, narrow, reef-strewn passage between Brooks Peninsula and Solander Island. The island is small, high, very steep and essentially without trees, a barren reminder of the many storms that must afflict the coast in winter. After a short hour of riding the waves downwind we rounded Clerke Point and turned northeast into the much more calm waters in the lee of Brooks Peninsula. Our intended anchorage was Columbia (also known as Peddler’s) Cove, near the base of the peninsula but to our disappointment we found two yachts already anchored in the small, comma-shaped cove. Our arrival coincided with a 0.0-foot, very low spring tide and with no room to spare we turned ESE again toward our alternate destination, the Bunsby Islands, the largest island group within the Barrier Islands. Lots of rocks, some visible, some not, and then dead slow down Gay Passage to pick one of three “nooks” for an anchorage. The best protected from the prevailing northwesterlies was West Nook. A 36' sailboat was already anchored so we dropped the hook well away from the other boat and close to the shore. After lunch we lowered the kayaks, briefly chatted with the couple on the sailboat, and then set out to check the western shore of Gay Passage. We were on the upper half of the flood tide, the weather was perfect, and the tour a great success. Lots of logs on the shore from the storm southeasterlies, lots of islets formed by high tide, and lots of small indentations that lead one right into the old growth forest. We never get tired of kayaking in wilderness. Back to Onward, kayaks hoisted to the pilothouse roof, supper, reading, and another gorgeous moon-lit night. Tom’s final check of the barometer and of the radio weather forecast suggests, however, our good weather days may soon end.

Monday, August 2 (West Nook, Bunsby Islands to Power River, Ououkinsh Inlet; 1.0 hours, 5.9 miles). Alas, the barometer continues down, now 1013 mb. For days it held steady around 1018 mb, predicting rain all the time despite the glorious sun and fair NW winds, but now its forecast may come true. Brief sun at rising, then high clouds, lower clouds, and by the afternoon rain and low visibility. But, with a very low 0.3-foot spring tide predicted for 8:48, it is time to go kayaking. After a pancake breakfast we took to our kayaks and for the next 2.5 hours had one of our best paddles yet. We crossed Gay Passage between the Bunsby Islands and entered Scow Bay, a half-mile long, winding indentation with islets, gradual and steep shores, rocks and several branching lagoons. With the shore on our right hand, the high tide level 12-feet above us, and trees reaching at least 150 feet above that, it was a wonderful cruise around the entire inlet. The low tide gave us a great view of sea life, including many star fish, sea stars, huge schools of 3-5" fish, large patches of sea grass and kelp beds. The above water wild life was also abundant. There were many eagles, including some bewildered juveniles with their very motley feathers, including one that perched not far from Tom’s head during a mutual observation period and then flew off right over his kayak. Quite a few eagles dove for fish though their catch average was not great. Rounding a corner we came on a marten checking out the now bare rocks and seaweed. After a few minutes he saw us, climbed up near high tide level, watched us for awhile, and then took to the woods. While Tom was watching the juvenile eagle perched nearby he heard a grunt and lo, there was a large black bear only 100' away. Tom watched for quite a while before going to get Liz, some distance off. When we returned, the bear was now on the other side of the inlet, overturning stones and checking bushes for berries. The bear was downwind of us and appeared to have our scent. He entered the water, shook himself off, and then returned to the beach and the search for food. With binoculars trained on the bear all the while it was a special treat. By the time we were back on Onward rain had started so up came the kayaks, out came lunch, up came the anchor at 1:18, and we headed north up Ououkinsh Inlet to Power River. By now we had a steady rain and low visibility so we couldn’t enjoy the visual treat of our narrow fjord, 300' depths and 2000' mountains on both sides. We anchored near the river’s mud bank outlet and spent a quiet afternoon in the rain and fog working on projects and reading.

Tuesday, August 3 (Power River to Dixie Cove, Hohoae Island; 3.9 hours, 24.9 miles). Oh wonder, a leisurely rising in the sunshine. We had instead expected the start of a multi-day spell of rainy weather. Into the kayaks at 9:11 for a two-hour paddle on a low but rising tide to Power River and then the head of Ououkinsh Inlet. As usual, fascinating! We saw two bears, including one which we followed with binoculars for at least 20 minutes until he ambled off into the bush. As before, the bear appeared to catch our scent, do some sniffing and posturing, and then decided we weren’t a threat worth taking into account. We raised anchor at 12:30, headed south through the Bunsby Islands, and for the next several hours followed an intricate southeast GPS route inshore of the Barrier Islands, seen and unseen (though sometimes with breaking wave or kelp marking the spot) obstacles on both sides. We rounded McLean Island, passed a spit with a lot of kayaker tents on it, passed the complicate entrance to Walter’s Cove, turned hard to port to pass between two large rocks with breaking the surf to enter Kyuquot Sound, headed up Crowther Channel to Markdale Passage and around the north end of Hohoae Island to the entrance to Dixie Cove. During our trip we saw several large fish and oyster farms, seals and quite a few sea otter, per usual, lying on their backs, watching us intently, and seemingly waving to us with their two hind flipper/feet. Always a treat seeing these animals and no wonder that they were once eliminated from the region due to their minimal fear of boats. We entered the inner cove of Dixie, already occupied by the sloop we met in West Cove, and were soon joined by two Gulf 32' sloops rafted together. It was near high tide and though the skies were clear and the temperature ideal, we decided against a kayak trip; there was nothing to see that couldn’t be seen directly from Onward.

Wednesday, August 4 (Dixie Cove to Queen Cove; 3.9 hours, 25.2 miles). Another fine day, high clouds in morning but clear in the afternoon with five knot SE breezes and no significant waves. Underway at 10 we headed SW via Pinnace and Kyuquot Channels, rounded Rugged Point and SW via Clear Passage, behind the Barrier Islands, to Tatchu Point, through Rolling Roadstead, and at last north via Gillam Channel to Queen Cove. Just before entry we saw the large Coast Guard vessel, Taku, anchored nearby; always nice to have the CG close at hand. We arrived at 1:55 and were soon joined by the two Gulf 32' sailboats and then three small runabouts. With 1:30 hours remaining before high tide we launched the kayaks to explore the now floatable Park River which empties into the cove. It was an exceptionally interesting trip. The water was crystal clear, we could proceed up the river for about half a mile, much more than is usually the case. The river gradually narrowed until it was only about 20' wide and became blocked by large deadfalls across the stream. Old growth trees and snags crowded both sides in all stages of their life cycle and we even had a small grass meadow with the high tide coving a band of permanent grasses. On leaving the river we followed the shore past a lovely and apparently unoccupied summer house with many picture windows fronting on the cove and then into a small warren of rocks, tiny islets, large cement piers now sprouting trees(!), and the half submerged long-line salmon fishing boat, Matuni Princess, last stickered for the 1995 fishing season. Wrecked and abandoned boats, always fascinating, always sad, and always with some story behind them. After supper we went for a second tour, this time on a falling mid-tide. We visited briefly with the three men on the two Gulf sailboats, toured the east side of the cove along the mud flats and abandoned log float and boom, and lastly a visit to an 18' runabout, moored in the cove for the night. The occupants were involved in teaching and consulting about commercial oyster farming, and were now on their way home. The man had his own oyster farm near Nanaimo and the woman, originally from New Jersey, was now combining her teaching activities with work on a degree in aquaculture. We were pleased to have Lecture #1 on Oyster Farming, 101. Back to Onward at dusk, turn on the anchor light, and hit the sack for another quiet night on the hook.

Thursday, August 5 (Queen Cove to Bodega Cove, between Nootka & Bodega Islands; 3.7 hours, 22.9 miles). Some sun but mainly cloudy sky and a falling barometer, 1016 mb down to 1013, with likely rain in a day or two. We left at 9:48, shortly after the two sailboats and were soon followed by the 18' “oyster consultants” runabout. Our route was protected from wave and wind and for the most part, very scenic. Northeast up Esperanza Inlet, SW via Hecate Channel, west via Tahsis Narrows and south via Tahsis Inlet to Bodega Island, jammed up against much larger Nootka Island, the largest island adjacent to Vancouver Island. The entire route was via narrow and very deep (300-1000') channels bounded by steep slopes rising a thousand feet and more, backed by even higher peaks. We passed or were passed by perhaps 10 very fast fishing boats as well as the regional ferry, Uchuck III, a converted minesweeper. This part of the West Coast has a number of small communities, several with road connections to the main north-south paved highway. The two larger ones, Tahsis and Zeballos, date back to pre-Contact times and have experienced the booms and busts of logging, fishing and gold mining. Esperanza is home to the Nootka Mission, founded in 1937, and now serves as base for spiritual retreats, children’s camps and family counseling. We passed at least four oyster farms, several small fishing lodges and a number of massive clearcuts, some on slopes well over 70 degrees. These cuts in turn have led to a few huge mud slides, wiping the mountain clean without hope of regeneration. So much for “Super Natural Beautiful BC!” Active logging continues, especially in the higher, and regrettably, steeper slopes back from the salt water inlets. We saw three active sites, the largest one immediately outside Bodega Cove. We anchored at 1:30 and soon were embarked by kayak to explore the mile-long northern extension of the cove, passable at high tide only. A bear was sighted through a cut on the way south on the eastern side of Bodega Island but by the time we arrived by kayak, now high tide, s/he was gone. Lots of grassy meadows but at high tide the interesting food possibilities are all covered by water. Back to Onward in time for “sun over the yard arm” libations.

Friday, August 6 (Bodega Cove to Friendly Cove / Yuquot; 1.4 hours, 9.1 miles). Light rain at night, intermittent rain in the morning and the barometer at a low of 1010 mb. Liz took the kayak to the north end of the cove to see if any bears were around at low tide but none were to be seen. Most of the morning was spent working on our log and website. At 1:36 we were the last to leave, heading south via Cook Channel and narrow McKay Passage to Friendly Cove, also known as Yuquot by the native community. Lots of history to reflect on! Liz read of all the events that occurred in the latter 18th century and since, cove by cove, channel by channel. Captain Cook spent a month in Resolution at Friendly Cove in 1778. John Meares, an English venture capitalist, started up the fur trade in 1788, to the eventual extinction of the sea otter from British Columbia (since re-introduced). In 1789 the Spaniards arrived to enforce their 1494 treaty with Portugal in which they claimed sovereignty over the Pacific Ocean. They captured Meares’ ship and built a fort opposite Friendly Cove. Meares returned to England, published a book detailing the Spanish takeover, and soon England was putting its fleet on maneuvers and making sounds of war. The Spanish, not then in a position to fight, expressed readiness to negotiate. At Friendly Cove in 1794, Captains Vancouver and Bodega y Quadra signed, a treaty that ended the Spanish monopoly over the Pacific. But, the Europeans were not the only ones to have an interest in the region. In 1803 the American ship Boston sailed into nearby Marvinas Bay filled with trading goods with which to barter for pelts. After the usual exchanges of gifts and courtesies by Captain Slater and Chief Maquinna of the local native band, a misunderstanding arose and Maquinna decided he must be revenged. He arranged to have nearly half of the Boston’s crew of 26 go ashore and with the crew off guard and divided, the native band killed and beheaded all but two of them. John Jewitt, one of the survivors, was shown all the heads of his companions and asked to identify each of them. He was enslaved for a while but eventually released and his descendants still are in contact with those living now in the area. Enough of this short history which can hardly do justice to all the events of this region.
We anchored in the small cove at 3:00, nestled under a hill topped with the lovely red-roofed Nootka Lightstation, and were soon on shore via the dinghy. We visited the house at the foot of a long floating log wharf to pay the suggested $10 mooring fee to the native band and to meet Sanford Williams, master carver, and then on to the lighthouse. From the lightkeeper we learned about the ongoing struggle to keep the lightstations manned in the face of budget pressures and the desire of government to replace humans with automated equipment. British Columbia has already closed some lighthouses and it was only the public outcry that stopped closures for, as reported in one of the news articles, “...as long as the Liberal government is in power.” With good radar, GPS and continuous weather broadcasts, the rationale for keeping the lights staffed by humans is weakening, at least for boats, but those who fly small float planes in these parts have a more powerful case; automated reports can’t accurately report cloud ceilings. But, we were glad to have a human presence and the versatility that implies, ready to help us in time of need. At the lighthouse we read about the ongoing conflict between the Ministry of Fisheries and the local native bands about the fate of Luna, a five-year old male orca. Luna apparently became separated from his pod about three years ago and since then has become a fixture in the fjords near Gold River. He is fond of human contact to the extent that he scratches his back on the barnacles on boat bottoms, he likes his tongue massaged, and he tags along after all types of craft. He doesn’t like to have a prop bite into his back and reportedly has bumped into boats that grazed him. Fisheries, for fear of an eventual incident, would like to capture and then release him in the Strait of Georgia near his original pod, while the native bands want to keep him in the area. A few weeks ago, the natives in their canoes were able to entice Luna repeatedly away from his would-be Fisheries captors who finally gave up and departed, so for now he is secure in the local waters. Apparently the confrontation served a dual purpose, that of bringing many of the native groups together in common cause to defend their traditions.
From the lighthouse we proceeded to a small Catholic Church, no longer active but well preserved and of historic value. In place of an altar it had several beautiful totem poles and at the entrance end of the church, additional elaborate native carvings. The pews were arranged lengthwise, with 3-4 rows on each side facing each other. The Yuquot community, once with several hundred population, was now reduced to only a few summer residents and no one during the winter. The church no longer functioned as such, remaining only as a tourist attraction and reminder, through pictures, plaques and documents displayed in the alcove, of the rich history of the region. A nearby field was covered with a multitude of tents and excited children, as a tribe was gathering for an annual summer festival. We then took a 10-minute walk along the ocean shore to a lake, chatted with several hikers who had just completed a 30-km hike along the southern shore of Nootka Island, and returned to the home of the resident natives for a second look at Sanford Williams’ carvings. Liz had taken a fancy to a cedar “sun plaque” carving, available for $150, so Tom emptied his wallet of all the Canadian funds left in his possession, $142.85, which sealed the purchase. We took pictures of Sanford, admired pictures of his major carvings now in museums or for sale in shops in the cities, and back on Onward, mounted the plaque in a favored spot. Once again the iron law of cruising was confirmed; “Cruising costs absolutely nothing as long as you don’t set a foot on shore.” Once safely aboard our boat for the night we didn’t spend another (now non-existent) Canadian penny!

Saturday, August 7 (Friendly Cove to Hot Springs Cove; 4.6 hours, 28.9 miles). For the first time we rolled during the night due to swells rounding the point into Friendly Cove. No problem with the rolls but the strange sounds of the boat and anchor chain caused some concern. At 2 AM Tom arose for his nightly check and found the rafted Gulf 32' sloops a bit too close for comfort. He rigged four fenders on the port side in case we came even closer and with that “insurance policy” deployed, was able to have a good night’s sleep. We were underway at 9:05 under clear skies, heading south out of Nootka Sound and keeping three miles off the low, rocky shore of Hesquiat Peninsula until we rounded Estevan Point and proceeded to the entrance of Clayquot Sound and Hot Springs Cove. During our trip we saw several whales, including one that breached with a great splash, and spent half an hour in the fog. On entering the cove at Sharp Point we saw many bathers draped all over the rocky cliffs, some in the sun and some in the hot-spring pools. We anchored well into the cove, north of the public dock and trailhead, lowered the kayaks and paddled to shore. Maquinna Provincial Park, initiated in 1954 by a land donation, is quite the attraction. All day long fast water taxis and float planes bring bathers from Tofino and by evening there were at least 10 cruising boats in the harbor. The 2 km trail from the dock to the hot springs on the point is, to not exaggerate by much, the 8th human-made wonder of the world. The entire trail, 35 minutes of walking time, is a solid, well maintained elevated boardwalk through a knock-your-socks-off forest. No right angles on this boardwalk; all the turns were rounded, with tapered planks so that the small inter-plank space remained constant. At times there were solid balustrades, benches and a lookout platform. But the real treat was the forest! Old growth, old second growth, snags, deadfalls, nurse trees, bogs, swamp cabbage, massive down to tiny cedar, hemlock and spruce trees growing out of soil, boulders, upturned root systems, nurse logs and even out of dead trees, the trail had it all. It was a true wonder. The solid planks of the boardwalk had many hundreds of boat names carved in them, one name to a plank. Most of the carving was well done, even professionally, and there was little that hinted of grafitti. We stopped frequently to take pictures and admire the forest, finally making it out to Sharp Point, the hot springs, and the now sounding fog whistle due to offshore fog. The hot spring water exited the earth at 50 degrees Centigrade just up hill of the board walk and flowed at a rate of about 5-8 liters per second. After coursing down the hill for several hundred feet it flowed over a 15-foot waterfall and then formed about four, decreasingly hot, pools before it merged with sea water. When we arrived there at least 40 people strewn all over the jagged rocks, some in the pools, others entering or leaving the area, and many just sunning themselves. With no trail over the rocks or “humanization” of the pool locations it was a challenge getting around; it could be a great location for setting up an orthopedics practice. We spent about an hour soaking in the pools, generally too hot to allow full body immersion, and chatting with others. By 5:30 most people had left to catch the water taxi to Tofino so we indulged in a period of meditation on a high rock, watching the surf, kelp and very bold shore. Our return trip was equally awe-inspiring, a walk among designs of nature. Back to Onward by kayak for a late Happy Hour, supper, an impressive 1026 mb on the barometer, and a very peaceful night.

Sunday, August 8 (Hot Springs Cove to West Whitepine Cove; 2.9 hours, 17.8 miles). The barometer dropped 1 mb and now predicts clouds but the day couldn’t be better. Almost clear skies, gentle SE winds, protected water cruising, and a lovely trip through the channels and passages to West Whitepine Cove. We left at 10, took pictures of the hot springs, dodged incoming water taxis loaded with prospective bathers, rounded Sharp Point, and headed up Sydney Inlet. With Liz at the helm and Tom below in the loo, Liz spotted what she thought was a massive barnacled floating log that turned into a grey whale just off our port beam; a ~40' whale about 40' away from a 40' boat. She quickly dropped the RPMs to an idle, Tom shot up from below where he was reading a short biography of Beethoven, too late to see the second and last surfacing. Quite a show, for Liz, who was mightily relieved that the whale hadn’t investigated Onward more closely! It was the first time she had seen clearly the eye of a whale. On we went under clear skies with light winds, east on Shelter Inlet, SE through narrow Hayden Passage, south in Millar Channel, through Ross Passage to W. Whitepine Cove. We entered at mid-tide with only 6' under the keel and anchored a prudent distance from a 28' Bayliner that left a hour later. The skipper had seen five bears over the previous evening and morning but no luck for us. We spent the afternoon reading and working on the log, then a circumnavigation by kayak of the inner cove and a good part of the larger outer cove. After supper it was such a gorgeous evening -- dead calm, no clouds, soft light, mirrored reflections of the shore and distant mountains – that we spent a half hour on the pilothouse roof until the sun dropped below the mountains. During this soliloquy with nature small fish were jumping out of the water all around the cove, making mini-splash sounds and concentric ripples in the water.
Monday, August 9 (West Whitepine Cove to Cannery Cove; 4.5 hours, 29.5 miles). Yet another superb day! Leisurely rising, reading and then out over the bar at 11:00. We headed SW via Herbert Inlet to Millar Channel and through a narrow gap off Clifford Point (Liz, our fearless navigator, is getting more and more daring but she didn’t trust the autopilot on this transit). The remainder of our trip took us winding through Clayquot Sound via Calmus Passage, Epper Passage (past a lovely home set high on a bluff with solar panels and a walkway to the float built along a cliff), Yellow Bank, Matlset Narrows, Fortune Channel, Dewley Passage and finally, to Tofino Inlet. Our destination had been Kennedy Cove but on seeing 40+ tents, myriad children and adults on land, several runabouts at the dock and a 44' ketch anchored in the cove we went around the corner to Cannery Cove where we were alone. On entering the cove we dropped the crab trap from the swim step, much easier than the usual practice of launching it from the dinghy. The location was beautiful except for major clearcuts high up the mountain and the sound of heavy machinery hidden in the nearby forest. It was probably clearing a road to log the old growth trees that surrounded the inlet. After an early supper we went by kayak over to Kennedy Cove and up the first part of Kennedy River, the largest river on Vancouver Island. During our paddle we talked Donald Williams, a native teenager who was paddling a cedar dugout canoe. He stated that the large group campout was an annual affair for a Tofino area First Nation tribe. We then chatted with a couple sailing on the 44' ketch of classic design, quite similar that of our 38' Downeaster cutter, Alter Ego. Back on Onward Liz made a valiant and partially successful attempt, from her kayak, to free our starboard stabilizer fin from some kelp. The kelp didn’t interfere with its operation but did lead to a faint fast vibration noise when underway. After getting some of the big stuff off with a boat hook she overreached herself, turned turtle and took an unplanned swim. With dusk now upon us we called it “a day.”

Tuesday, August 10 (Cannery Cove to Tranquilito Cove, Tranquil Inlet; 0.8 hours, 4.2 miles). And more wonders, another gorgeous day; how long can it last? Liz did a bit more kelp removal from the kayak but it was evident that the final stage would have to be done from the water. So, up kayaks (this time, on the aft deck), up anchor at 10:45, retrieval of the crab trap (empty) by boat hook from the bow, and then a short trip up Tranquil Inlet to the cove. Our friends on the Gulf 32' sloops, Elysium and Fairwind, were anchored there, leaving several hours later for Windy Bay. The cove is a gem: very small, protected in all directions, old growth forest all around (though some old clearcuts further away), a long beach and meadow nearby at the head of the Tranquil Inlet, giving promise of good bear watching, and high mountains in all quadrants. Shortly after anchoring a high powered crab boat (375 hp, and an impressive wake, vs our 105 hp and modest ripples) crewed by Trevor and Doug, made the rounds of checking their crab traps. On their first entrance to the cove Liz asked if we might buy several crabs so after completing their pickups they returned in a flurry and provided us with two very large specimens. Liz was delighted and Tom relieved (of not having to place our own trap; Tom doesn’t “do” crabs.) After all boats had left Liz stripped for kelp action, Tom put a line around her waist so he could retrieve in case of necessity without getting himself wet (Tom doesn’t “do” water, as in cold water swimming and rain), and after 10 minutes of grappling with the wile kelp she pronounced the stabilizer kelp-free. The afternoon was spent in lovely surroundings and ideal weather, working on log and website. We had an early supper and then set out for a 1.5-hour, 3-mile kayak tour of the end of Tranquil Inlet. At high tide the wide shoal and meadow area provided lots of small flooded nooks to explore, winding our way around huge weathered stumps, lofty snags, 100' submerged logs and deadheads, behind a now rotting log platform, and over fields of grass now under water. The surrounding mountains gave evidence of large clearcuts in years past, including some on very steep (near 80 degrees) slopes. After some false starts we found the entrance to Tranquil Creek and were able to ascend it for half a mile until blocked by recent deadfalls and rapids. Visible from this location were the remains of a large, 40' high log bridge, now cut in several places, that was presumably used by logging trucks in past years. Crystal clear water glassy water, alternating shallow and deep sections, no current, upright, leaning and fallen trees on both sides, nurse logs and stumps in profusion, and totally silent except for occasional kingfishers objecting to our passage – it was a wonderful demonstration of nature’s work at healing past scars.

Wednesday, August 11 (Tranquilito Cove to Tofino; 2.2 hours, 15.1 miles). A quiet night and lovely dawn with rays of sun peeking through holes in the fog that filled the inlet. We spent the morning completing our log and at 11:30 raised anchor for the challenging trip to Tofino. Beautiful weather but fog to the west. The first half of the trip was in broad Tranquil Inlet but after that it was both of us at the wheel, chart and laptop. Many shoals, rocks, narrow passages, an ebb tide that gave us a 1-1.5 knot boost, generally welcome but at times we would have liked to go slower. As we neared Tofino the crab traps added a further hazard and for a time we thought we might have to go in by radar but the fog stayed at the ocean entrance. As advertised in the guide books Tofino was a mariner’s zoo; boats of all sizes, speeds and courses, float planes landing every several minutes, and the docks were full. We finally managed to raft to a sailboat, which was rafted to another boat in a slot that would have left us little water under our keel on a low spring tide. Fortunately, a nearby boat left shortly thereafter so we quickly took the slot before anyone else could fill it; first come, first served at the public docks in Tofino. For the balance of the afternoon we checked out the town, replenished our zeroed-out Canadian money, perused the galleries, ate ice cream cones, and joined the tourist hordes. “Civilization” at last!

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