Cruising British Columbia
Volume V: Tenedos Bay to Melanie Cove
Tenedos Bay is a large, deep area with an island and many choices for anchorage, depending on what kind of view, privacy, or protection from weather that you want. We chose a spot against a rock wall and, having lashed a wood dowel across the windgenerator support to hold our spool of poly rope, I rolled out the line as Clark rowed Darzee to shore. Before we got the engine shut down and things put away, two kayakers hovered at our stern asking questions about our trimaran. They were from San Francisco on a Nordhaven anchored nearby. One owned an F-27 in Alameda, the other had built a Piver back in the sixties and sailed it to the South Pacific. We gave them a tour and then went over to look at their well-equipped powerboat.
The walk to the lake was indeed short but the shore was piled with jams of huge logs left over from the days of logging, so we couldn't get near the water. The trail around the right side peetered to a slashing fest through the branches, so we turned back. Days later we found out from other cruisers that we should've crossed the creek and gone around the left side, where there were rocks for a swim platform. Oh well, next time. The moss was thick and lovely, one of the only photos I took. We tootled around the bay looking for interesting spots to anchor in future visits– the hideaway spot known as the "3-fathom hole" looked very protected and private– there was only one boat but room for a few more.
We dawdled the next morning (I refreshed my haircolor) then left after lunch to meet Valhalla in Melanie Cove. As we turned around the point, we saw whitecaps out in Homfray Channel. The wind was blowing 20 knots so we ducked between islands to get out of the chop. Rikki-tikki entered Melanie, waving as we passed Valhalla, to set the Northill in the head of the cove. We were going to stern-tie again but the wind was funneling into the anchorage, boats were putting out second anchors and tying additional shorelines, so we felt that swinging with the wind would be preferable. We launched Darzee and joined Valhalla's crew for cocktails.
The subject of conversation was the entertainment being provided by all the other boaters as they reinforced their positions against the increasing wind, which was now gusting heartily. Some boats, especially powerboats, seem to dance wildly from one side of their anchor chain to the other. Others lie sedately into the wind. Rikki-tikki, contrary to the reported multihull characteristic of "sailing" around their rode, behaves well. He responds to the wind but doesn't pull madly at his leash. The boats shore-tied were beam to the wind, which is not desirable.
Suddenly a huge gust whipped into Melanie Cove. Valhalla heeled over and our drinks went airborne and flew downhill. Bev ended up being on the receiving side of the table. Clark and I decided quickly that we didn't want to lie awake all night aboard Rikki wondering who would be dragging anchor. Rikki-tikki was downwind of every other boat there and would be THE target. We wished Wes and Patti a happy anniversary, thanked Johnie and Bev for their hospitality, jumped into Darzee and sped back to Rikki. We never hoisted the outboard or lifted Darzee onto the deck quicker! We were out'a there!
We wove between veering boats on our way out, heading for the niche we'd used during our previous visit. It would be quieter there, we knew. Tucked in close to shore, shielded from the SW winds, we could get a good night's rest. Out in the larger anchorage, boats were also doing the "wind dance". Our spot was open (who would anchor there anyway?); it took two tries to get positioned properly but once out of the gusts, rowing to shore to loop the stern line around a tree was no problem.
A short while later, two boats who had been attempting to find good holding out in the middle, saw that "our" location was wind-protected. They came in behind along the shore, a good distance away, one anchored, the other tied alongside. Clark prepared dinner as I watched the wind speed top out at ten and calculated that the eight-foot tide would still leave us with enough water. We were fine!
The two boats behind us were having a party– hard rock blaring for the entire bay to endure. I told Clark that if the "music" didn't stop at ten PM, out would come our million-candlepower spotlight! We went to bed, noticing that every other boat around, except the party-boats, displayed no lights other than little anchor lights. Everyone had retired. Ten o'clock. No reduction of the intrusion. Ten fifteen, still blaring. I got up, put on my fleece, went out into the cockpit with the searchlight. I blasted them! Had to wiggle it a bit to get their attention. A guy with a beer can appeared. I yelled, "It's after ten. Please turn it off!" I am sure he could not hear me, but the blinding white light in his eyes made its point. He disappeared, the noise ceased. "Thank you!" I truly expected to hear a cheer raised from the other boats, but all was silent. Thank you. It rained at midnight, but the wind calmed and we slept well.
We have nearly tired of taking photos of Rikki-tikki in each place he visits but, as Marcia told us, his colors blend so well into the greens of the lichens and mosses on shore, we couldn't help this one. This is our rocky bight in Prideaux Haven. We call it, "Find RTT."
Valhalla hailed us on their way south the next morning, saying good-bye. We wished them well and asked them to call us on the VHF when they got to Sarah Point– we wanted to know whether to go north or south, depending on the wind. They said it was choppy and very windy; they decided to tuck into Grace Harbor instead of bashing to the Copeland Islands. Our choice, then, was to go north up Waddington Channel where the water was placid. We would explore Pendrell Sound, where the water is said to be the warmest in British Columbia!
We dawdled the next morning (I refreshed my haircolor) then left after lunch to meet Valhalla in Melanie Cove. As we turned around the point, we saw whitecaps out in Homfray Channel. The wind was blowing 20 knots so we ducked between islands to get out of the chop. Rikki-tikki entered Melanie, waving as we passed Valhalla, to set the Northill in the head of the cove. We were going to stern-tie again but the wind was funneling into the anchorage, boats were putting out second anchors and tying additional shorelines, so we felt that swinging with the wind would be preferable. We launched Darzee and joined Valhalla's crew for cocktails.
The subject of conversation was the entertainment being provided by all the other boaters as they reinforced their positions against the increasing wind, which was now gusting heartily. Some boats, especially powerboats, seem to dance wildly from one side of their anchor chain to the other. Others lie sedately into the wind. Rikki-tikki, contrary to the reported multihull characteristic of "sailing" around their rode, behaves well. He responds to the wind but doesn't pull madly at his leash. The boats shore-tied were beam to the wind, which is not desirable.
Suddenly a huge gust whipped into Melanie Cove. Valhalla heeled over and our drinks went airborne and flew downhill. Bev ended up being on the receiving side of the table. Clark and I decided quickly that we didn't want to lie awake all night aboard Rikki wondering who would be dragging anchor. Rikki-tikki was downwind of every other boat there and would be THE target. We wished Wes and Patti a happy anniversary, thanked Johnie and Bev for their hospitality, jumped into Darzee and sped back to Rikki. We never hoisted the outboard or lifted Darzee onto the deck quicker! We were out'a there!
We wove between veering boats on our way out, heading for the niche we'd used during our previous visit. It would be quieter there, we knew. Tucked in close to shore, shielded from the SW winds, we could get a good night's rest. Out in the larger anchorage, boats were also doing the "wind dance". Our spot was open (who would anchor there anyway?); it took two tries to get positioned properly but once out of the gusts, rowing to shore to loop the stern line around a tree was no problem.
A short while later, two boats who had been attempting to find good holding out in the middle, saw that "our" location was wind-protected. They came in behind along the shore, a good distance away, one anchored, the other tied alongside. Clark prepared dinner as I watched the wind speed top out at ten and calculated that the eight-foot tide would still leave us with enough water. We were fine!
The two boats behind us were having a party– hard rock blaring for the entire bay to endure. I told Clark that if the "music" didn't stop at ten PM, out would come our million-candlepower spotlight! We went to bed, noticing that every other boat around, except the party-boats, displayed no lights other than little anchor lights. Everyone had retired. Ten o'clock. No reduction of the intrusion. Ten fifteen, still blaring. I got up, put on my fleece, went out into the cockpit with the searchlight. I blasted them! Had to wiggle it a bit to get their attention. A guy with a beer can appeared. I yelled, "It's after ten. Please turn it off!" I am sure he could not hear me, but the blinding white light in his eyes made its point. He disappeared, the noise ceased. "Thank you!" I truly expected to hear a cheer raised from the other boats, but all was silent. Thank you. It rained at midnight, but the wind calmed and we slept well.
We have nearly tired of taking photos of Rikki-tikki in each place he visits but, as Marcia told us, his colors blend so well into the greens of the lichens and mosses on shore, we couldn't help this one. This is our rocky bight in Prideaux Haven. We call it, "Find RTT."
Valhalla hailed us on their way south the next morning, saying good-bye. We wished them well and asked them to call us on the VHF when they got to Sarah Point– we wanted to know whether to go north or south, depending on the wind. They said it was choppy and very windy; they decided to tuck into Grace Harbor instead of bashing to the Copeland Islands. Our choice, then, was to go north up Waddington Channel where the water was placid. We would explore Pendrell Sound, where the water is said to be the warmest in British Columbia!
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