Back to The Spit

Volume IX: Back to The Spit As you remember, way back when we last wrote, we were headed for Surge Narrows, a skinny rapids (197 feet wide at its minimum) that must be navigated only at or near slack water, the duration of which varies from five to eleven minutes. Not very long! We timed our arrival perfectly and transited easily with no other boats to contend with in the confined channel. We can imagine how stressful a transit might become when there are many boats wanting to go through at the same time. The Narrows deserves respect. We were aware of a boat that got hung up on Tusko Rock this summer, so we were very cautious. Mr. Tides, a tide and current software for Macintosh, helped us plan our timing. GPSNavX, our computer charting software, plotted our course on the BSB chart with coordinates from our Garmin 48 in real time. We send our kudos and thanks to Rich, the author of GPSNavX, and to August, the author of Mr. Tides, for their fabulous software! The day was mostly sunny with a faint breeze, not enough to sail until we reached the end of Hoskyn Channel when we rolled out the jib briefly to take advantage of a more defined flow of air of 20 knots from the NW. It's either no wind or a lot of wind around BC! We were considering seeking shelter in Village Bay to escape the wind, but when we turned the corner at The Spit, we could see that there was smooth water inside its arm of scrubby trees. Rebecca Spit was vacant of boats so we chose the "prime view" anchoring spot at the opening in The Spit– looking east across the northern reaches of the Strait of Georgia to the layers of mountains on the mainland. We hanged the bow anchor to our 33-pound Delta and stowed the Northill. The Northill is a great anchor– lightweight, easy to set, and it has never dragged. It wrapped up a loop of the rode a few times, so we started using a ten pound lead ball as an additional weight on the rode to increase the catenary. At Von Donop we lazily tippy-toed around our anchor and, even with the extra weight, the Northill came up so entangled in the rode and chain that it looked like a Chinese string puzzle! We decided to trust it only when we stern-tied ashore. When Rikki-tikki would be swinging in different directions with the changing tide and winds, the Delta could be trusted to hold without fouling and we would sleep better. We had the afternoon open (what else is new?) so we launched Darzee and motored over to Heriot Bay for groceries and wireless internet down in the Inn's laundry room while running a load. Another boat down from the Octopus Islands was at the marina. He latter came to The Spit and anchored real close to us (what else is new!?), but Clark warned him that we had a lot of scope out so he pulled a line to a log ashore and backed away. I managed to get a photo of the view before he arrived and planted himself in the middle of it. We spotted a little fleet of colorfully-painted Harlequin ducks, four drakes with six in their harem. We'd never seen Harlequins before; we strained our eyes admiring them. The drakes are stunning to look at and impossible to photograph– so shy. Another sailboat came in just as evening arrived but he chose wisely and allowed plenty of swinging room for both of us. His boat is the counterpoint to the gorgeous sky we all enjoyed. Rikki-tikki-tavi made big arcs over the water as the tide came and went, rocking a bit with the Whaletown ferry wake, but the wind remained calm. Fall was in the air and the guests at the resort were lounging in the sun overlooking the harbor. Kayakers paddled about and campers walked their dogs along The Spit trail out to the tip. The color of maple leaves turning vibrant hues accented the hillsides. It was a relaxed atmosphere, no crowds of cruising boats from the US bustling in and out of the marina, just the locals coming out to enjoy the peace. In all, we made three trips to send and receive email, download the latest version of GPSNavX, and do banking online. Thank you, Heriot Bay! A big low pressure system was predicted to bring strong SE winds, so we took Rikki-tikki to Heriot Bay for fuel, once again squeezing him in backwards between the ferry landing and the docks. Clark can maneuver him into some very small spaces! The ferry comes in just beyond the little floating store on the right in this photo. Gorge Harbour, on the south side of Cortes Island, beckoned with promised protection from SE gales and we hadn't been there yet, so off we went, motoring along under, yet again, amazing skies. It just doesn't get boring! Each day's atmosphere and appearance is surprisingly different from the one before. Even when it's silvery gray or raining, the infinite variety of reflections, shapes and light give us much pleasure. I was hoping to see Shark Spit. We had to pass by it, through Z-shaped, tricky Uganda Passage, on the way to Gorge Harbour. I wanted to see if it was the place I remembered visiting while cruising with my grandparents as a teenager. The low-lying spit back then was so thick with live sand dollars of every size that there was little room for sand! It was impossible not to crunch them as one walked. We spent a sunny afternoon there, fascinated by the multiple layers of the spiny creatures, marveling in their purple billions. We lined up rows of graduated sizes, from the tiniest, smaller than ones baby finger, all the way to specimens a couple of inches across. Now I feared that they would be no more, but the time wasn't right to find out. The tide was very high and Shark Spit was hidden beneath the waves. I would have to wait for another visit, hopefully when a gale wasn't on its way. If we could buy an island, this would be the one. An islet next to Shark Spit, it has just the right combination of rocky outcroppings and protecting trees, a small bay for Rikki-tikki, and a great location for a house with a dynamite view. There was already a house there of course, with a guest cottage no less. Someone else owns Clark's Island. Fair winds, Clark & Nina

Cruising British Columbia

Volume VIII: Von Donop Inlet to Octopus Islands The day was sunny and the wind calm as we motored up to Lewis Channel to Teakerne Arm. A breeze began picking up from the south and we rolled out the jib. Almost there, we saw that Jim and Sharon were already on their way out, having had a lovely swim! They told us over VHF they were headed for Von Donop Inlet, the other side of Cortes Island, because a low was coming in. We'd planned to spend the night at Teakerne if the wind remained calm, but it was quickly rising. We snapped photos of the waterfall and made a quick tour of the shoreline as we listened to Environment Canada's weather forecast for strong southeasterlies headed our way. There is no anchorage at Cassel Lake– the shore drops off to 120 feet within mere yards of the rocks. We promised ourselves to visit again next year when there was no wind! Von Donop seemed a good place to hide out from strong winds, so we joined Jim and Sharon there. Rikki-tikki's Northill anchor held us in place close to the southeast shore, hopefully protected from whatever was coming our way. We went to shore and hiked the left-hand trail which had a sign reading, "Squirrel Cove 2.5 km, Everywhere else 12 km." Walking for thirty minutes did not bring us to the point where we'd turned back from the other side. We were left wondering. We invited Jim and Sharon to chicken dinner, which we poached "a la Danny Kaye", a recipe from Jacques Pépin's book, The Apprentice. It is gently boiled for only ten minutes, then rests in the poaching liquid for forty-five. A perfect energy-saving dish for cruisers! We enjoyed a wonderful evening– it was calm and windless, quiet and serene, save for our lively conversation around the table. Next day, feeling the need to stretch our legs again, we set out on trail number three, the right-hand one, determined to actually arrive somewhere. It started out with a bit uphill, got my heart going, but then it leveled out to become a rolling path through alder and ferns. It was a pleasant and lovely trail, obviously well-travelled, but we were alone. Most of the trail is through First Nation People's land. Their name for Von Donop is Hathayim. The trail ended at the road to Whaletown, where we sat and had a snack, then hiked back. That afternoon, we heard the rumble of quadrunners and one appeared at the trailhead. Perhaps they were some of the volunteers who maintain the trails. We finally saw another eagle! After spotting only two eagles at Rebecca Spit since we arrived in Canada August 4th, we've often asked ourselves, "Where are all the eagles?" Are there just too many people, too many boats, too much pressure on the environment? Wildlife seems sparse to us, the forest and skies silent. We did see a small flock of Bonaparte gulls here and two red-breasted sapsuckers while hiking. At nine a.m. before breakfast, we left for Hole-in-the-Wall, a passage with a rapids at the end. We needed to arrive at slack water and had decided at the last minute to leave... we hadn't even eaten breakfast! So we turned up the throttle and zoomed north at seven-plus knots. There was a lot of debris to dodge as the tide had been extremely high and, when that happens, a lot of stuff gets lifted off the shoreline and carried into the channels. Another gorgeous scene, a silvery reminder of the rain overnight, made my photo look like black and white! Our arrival at the rapids was either a couple of minutes too early or a couple too late. We steered through the mild, though unnerving, whirls and upwellings, crossing the channel to enter the Octopus Islands Marine Park at low tide. This can be a good thing because at least you can see where the rocks are! The channel is very narrow and we went dead slow. Two boats were already shore-tied and we did likewise across the cove. Octopus Islands are a cluster, a very small cluster, of rocky islets with lots more rocks and hard things to hit if you're not careful. We've been told that it's very crowded in summer so we were glad to be there in September! Only one other boat, a small houseboat on the last night, came into "our" cove the five nights we were there. We hiked (more about that later), worked on our blog, met the cruisers on the other two boats and explored in Darzee. It rained the first night and dawn came shrouded in fog, otherwise sun bathed Rikki-tikki. Pat and Barry, who'd sailed their boat over from Hilo, Hawaii, told us that we had to go see a little cabin on the neighboring private island. We motored over in Darzee. It was chock-full with cruiser memorabilia! We spend an hour or so looking at mementos created and left by crews of boats. Some were very elaborate and large, others just a pencilled poem or decorated clamshell. It appeared to be a tradition for some to leave a new one or add to an existing artifact with each annual visit. We had to make and leave one from Rikki-tikki-tavi! We selected a piece of driftwood from the shore in front of the cabin, took it back to RTT, and carved our contribution to the fantastic clutter. There is room for us to add the year of each future visit. We tied our creation to a beam above one of the windows. John and Lynda told us we should hike the trail to Newton Lake above Waiat Bay. They'd been for a swim four times since arriving. They told us to take the trail to the left and that it was the easier trail, forty-five minutes. They also said that there were wolves in the area (I knew I'd heard howling the previous night!). We motored over (it took ten minutes to get there at top speed!), tied Darzee up to the shore on a lowering tide, giving him a very long tether and pushing him out so he would float free and not have to be carried back to the water. With the motor, the weight would be unmanageable. A group of kayakers were arriving at the same time, but thought better of attempting the hike (did they know something we didn't?) and returned to their kayaks. So we set off into the dense forest, just the two of us. Everything was nice and fresh from the rain, ferns perky, mosses spongy and green. There was a plethora of fungi and we saw new ones we hadn't see before. We must get a book! We took the left fork. As we went, the trail become more convoluted, detouring around downed trees and wet spots. It was obvious that someone maintains the trail as there were ribbon markers and freshly cut stumps, so it was not difficult to follow. In places, a deeply worn path cut through mosses three feet thick, dense sword ferns, cedar trees of some size but not old-growth. There were huge stumps with notches cut into them– evidence of logging long ago. We hiked for an hour. Clark started to question that we'd taken the right trail, but we'd seen no other and this one was clearly marked. So on we went. When the path turned uphill to become steep switchbacks, Clark was sure we'd done something wrong, but we kept climbing, very slowly. The path got narrower, suitable for mountain goats only– one edge went nearly straight down the mountain, the other side was steep enough to use as a handhold. I was worried about going back down! Finally, we crossed a trickling falls and then heard a larger falls close by. We climbed some more, the path leveled out and we saw a swampy pond through the trees. No way! We hiked all this way for that? Just then, I stepped in some wolf poop. Thank goodness for the thick moss on the path sides– that is sticky stuff! This couldn't be the right lake, we decided, so we continued trudging along. We were rewarded by arriving (an hour and forty-five minutes later!) at Newton Lake– a sign confirmed it. Very large and with crystal clear water, the lake didn't seem to offer any shore with swimming access. Spotting a rock outcropping around to the left, we continued hiking there. At this point, Clark was still sure there was an easier trail than the one we'd suffered, but the path ended at the rocks. Snack time– all we brought was a little baggy of nuts! We considered bathing but there was a chilly breeze and we hadn't brought a towel. We heard voices and I saw a couple on a rock outcrop to the right of where the trail came to the lake. It was Clark's turn to step in wolf poop on the way back. As he tried to remove the glop from his right shoe, he stepped into a whopper with his left shoe! Descending the steep trail, I stepped carefully over the ledges, rocks, tree roots, and banana slugs. I nailed one unfortunate invertebrate and almost slipped over the edge! We were soon overtaken by the two we'd seen at the lake. They bounded down the trail, with their dog in the lead, like mountain goats. John and Lynda arrived after us, got there while we were fumbling around on the wrong side of the lake, took their swim, and made it back to their dinghy way before us. Luckily they waited around on the shore for us to help carry Darzee. He'd gotten hung up in some rocks as the tide went out. All told, that hour and a half hike took us three and a half hours– and we didn't even get a swim! I saw a flotilla of surf scoters on the way back to Rikki. On the 24th, we left Octopus Islands headed for Surge Narrows at slack water, with a final destination of Rebecca Spit. It was another sunny, beautiful day in British Columbia! Fair winds, Clark and Nina

Grace & Squirrel

Volume VII: Grace and Squirrel Sounds like "Moose and Squirrel", from Rocky and Bullwinkel, my favorite cartoon series. My birthday the same day as Bullwinkel's! Anyway, from where we left off... Grace Harbor wasn't too crowded but we did our "head for the head" routine. Our theory is other boats won't anchor in the shallow areas and we'll have more privacy. Sometimes works, sometimes not. The second day, it wasn't working. We rowed into the area where the guide book says the stream flowing into the bay creates warm pools, where you'll be able to splash as you enjoy the rain forest. Hmmm. All we discovered were old rusty tractor parts, a big tire, muck and uninviting ooze. Maybe we had the wrong stream? We saw some folks had gone ashore from their dinghies a short distance away, so we headed there. We found a campsite, a pit toilet and a trail leading to the squishy mud trail that the "stream" piddled across. We're doing something wrong. The next day, we decided we just hadn't walked far enough, so we trekked past the mucky part and down a long trail through the forest. It dwindled as more and more fallen trees blocked the way. Clark found himself interested in capturing the growth of mushrooms and fungi on his video camera. He did find a wide variety to keep him busy! I continued to search for a trail to the "swimming lake", having spotted water through the trees (there is a lake on the chart too). Finally, I was at the edge of a wetland filled with grasses and lily pads. Could this be the right lake? It was pretty though, and Clark amused himself by taking movies of moss and spiders in their perfectly formed webs. We started back and heard people calling to each other. The couple we met were gathering chantrelles! Here we were just taking photos of mushrooms, they were collecting dinner. The man, named Wolf, told us where to look for these delicate edibles and we were off– bushwacking uphill off-trail in search of the elusive 'rooms. Two hours later, I'd found one, which Wolf later pronounced as "old", but we ate it anyway in an omelette next morning. Some new sea animals were revealed on a "really-low-tide" morning foray around the bay in Darzee. We were unsure what they were. They looked like anemones but had highly branched arms and five-segmented bodies. They were purple or orange, pink or wine-colored. Then we spotted some smaller white ones with more feathery arms. None of them were above the lowest tide mark but I managed to touch one just under the surface. It pulled in its arms and then we thought they might be nudibranchs. Research back on the boat proved the colored ones to be red sea cucumbers. The smaller white ones were stiff-footed sea cucumbers. They live in the sub-tidal zone and wedge their bodies between rocks. The shore around Grace Harbor is a good habitat for them; lots of little rocks and boulders. The water is usually very calm in the morning and, if you are lucky to get out before the first motorized dinghy takes a dog to shore for you-know-what, the rocks, seaweeds and mosses make interesting "totems". That's what my grandparents called the reflections along the shoreline. Our family has hundreds of Kodak slides of the totems they saw in their ten years of cruising BC. I thought this one was particularly intriguing. Wolf and Jan on Theresa II hailed us as we rowed by and invited us aboard. They spent a couple of hours telling us all about their "secret" places. They've been "out" for six years (New Zealand, Fiji, etc) and have returned home to Comox, to continue their already-decades of experience boating in BC. Cruisers are so generous! Later, we rowed over a shore-tie and let out more rode to back away from a powerboat who anchored too close. At our afternoon coffee time, we reconsidered our decision to head south, back to the Gulf Islands. We had plenty of time to keep exploring, did we not? What was the rush? We'd only been here a couple of weeks! So Rikki-tikki turned north and made tracks again for Squirrel Cove, Cortes Island. We needed a few provisions if were to stay longer. The tide was running a bit in Malaspina Inlet on our way out and we had a bit of fun negotiating the whirlpools and upwellings. A south wind was rising as we entered Squirrel Cove. We chose a spot far away from the cluster of boats anchored in front of the lagoon. We looked for protected, smooth water behind an islet, thinking, "surely nobody would be anchoring too close to us here!" It wasn't two hours before four, count 'em four, identical SunSail charter sailboats, each with five aboard, assembled in close proximity behind us. The first boat's bow man dropped the anchor and chain straight down, where it hit bottom and stopped paying out. The guy in the cockpit was standing with his hands in his pockets, gazing rather confusedly at the steering pedestal. The ladies disappeared below. The guy up front looked down at the spot where he'd dropped the anchor, straightened up, then threw his hands in the air and walked back to the stern. We were glad we were upwind, but what if the wind switched around... we'd be a sitting mongoose! (Later, at the town store, I asked the man who'd been on the bow where their fleet was headed next. Little did he realize, I just wanted to make sure we didn't go where they were going.) Rikki-tikki and crew found enough to keep things interesting for three nights. We took the trail. The sign read, "2.51 km", but didn't indicate to where. It was a lot of uphill through dense forest, lots of ferns and cedar, no chantrelles (Clark is now on continuous alert). Soon, the sun was on the verge of setting, so back down we went, not having arrived anywhere other than where we started. The tide was very high and that was when we met Jim. He was in his dinghy at the trailhead sign (told you the tide was very high!) asking where and how far? We couldn't give him that info, but did suggest waiting until high slack water to explore the lagoon. He roared back to his boat to pick up his wife, Sharon, and we all went over to the lagoon and shut off our motors. The end of the flood carried us in but it was too dark and the tide was too high, so we couldn't see any of the grand creatures we'd seen a couple weeks before. Just as we reached the other side, the tide turned and carried both dinghies back out into the bay! A short visit, but we met new friends. This is what happens when a boat is not moving very fast! Spiders set up housekeeping. Jim and Sharon took off early for Teakerne Arm the next morning for a swim at famous Cassel Lake. Coincidentally, we'd also planned to go there that day. We took Rikki-tikki to the public dock for another stop at the Squirrel Cove store on the way out. They had the right size fuel filters for RTT's oil change. A few phone calls to family and we were on our way to Teakerne Arm. Calm waters, Clark and Nina

September Big Update

Hello Rikki fans! This is your editor here :) It's very hard for Rikki and crew to locate a place to send an email off but Nina and Clark are doing a great job composing them as they adventure along. However this means you might get a month's worth of updates all at once... like this month. Blogger's format is 'most recent at topmost' so these updates may be confusing, so here is the order in which you should read them: Volume I: Nanaimo to French Creek Volume II: French Creek to Rebecca Spit Volume III: Rebecca Spit Onward Volume IV: Roscoe Bay to Squirrel Cove Volume V: Tenedos Bay to Melanie Cove Volume VI: Pendrell Sound and Isabel Bay If you're a Rikki fan, leave a comment! They enjoy reading well wishes and fan mail!

Pendrell Sound and Isabel Bay

Cruising British Columbia Volume VI: Pendrell Sound and Isabel Bay The spectacular mountainous inlet that almost cuts East Redonda Island in two is also very deep. The peaks jut up from the smooth water leaving little or no shallow areas to catch an anchor. Nearly at its head is a bight behind a small island where a good-sized lagoon can be entered by kayak or dinghy on high tide. Predictably, it's called Lagoon Cove, and it's a place known for its oyster culture. When we got close to the cove, we drove parallel to the shore, very close in. The depths were still 80 to 100 feet at low tide! There was one other boat, shore-tied to the rocky slope under the trees. We put the anchor into 72 feet with a long loop to shore. Just off our starboard ama, very large schools of fish circled in a 100-plus hole. The other sailboat's crew returned to their boat and departed. We thought we'd have the place to ourselves! It was so quiet and stunningly lovely, we sat back to enjoy the peace. Darzee transported us into the lagoon where an old wooden barge languished, trees growing out of its deck. The entrance was piled with large net bags of oyster shells. We wondered what these were for. A sign hidden by branches partially read, "Oyster storage ---- Do not walk below 8-foot tide line." There was a well-trodden path, utilized by those who walked into the lagoon when the tide was out. As we enjoyed our afternoon coffee at the settee, a flotilla of boats was zeroing in the cove. Led by a diminutive cabin cruiser, there was a Nordic Tug and three sailboats. We should have videotaped their anchoring antics! The first mate on the cruiser called out the depths as the captain dropped chain straight down. He got out to tie a too-short line to shore. We knew he was in only seven feet of water over the "beach" and that the tide would be dropping eleven. Captain went down to assist the Nordic Tug, which was backing in and out between his anchor and shoreline– so vigorously that we were sure his crew hanging onto the shoreline was getting rope burns! Clark even rowed over to advise the first mate of the tide. They stayed put even so, pulling in some chain to correct his position. Peevishly, we looked forward to the entertainment provided when they discovered themselves aground. The biggest sailboat, a Fisher 37 pilothouse, anchored and the other two sailboats tied along each side, facing the opposite direction. All boats were travelling together, of course, and they called back and forth to one another, collected forbidden oysters, went swimming, and zoomed around in their dinghies. Our peace and quiet was short-lived. Another large sailboat arrived, a lovely green-hulled sloop, from the same marina as the others, but they were strangers. This boat dropped anchor mid-cove in very deep water. A lot of chain clattered over the bow! Then he rowed the longest shoreline we've seen to the island, pretty much taking up all the remaining space. Shortly after sunrise, we went out in Darzee to have a look at the oyster shell bags. We learned that the flotilla would be leaving and were grateful when only the sloop and Rikki-tikki remained. Clark put on his drysuit and snorkeled under our stern to replace the FrigoBoat keel cooler zincs, which had prematurely disintegrated. The water was sixty-six degrees! A little scrubbing of Rikki's burgeoning beard of algae was also in order. That evening, the golden light of sunset caught the peaks across the inlet for a moment, then faded away. We lazed around the next morning, leaving for Isabel Bay after lunch. Slowly motoring there, enjoying the scenery and calm seas, we entered Malaspina Inlet to wind on the nose and followed a classic wooden boat through. We were hoping Isabel would be uncrowded. Isabel Bay holds fond memories for me. My family visited here on my grandparent's boat, Serendipity, forty-odd years ago. We were the only boat then and, now, we also were one. I begged my grandfather to take me salmon fishing out in the dinghy, which he reluctantly did. He threw his trout net into the boat, sure I wouldn't catch anything. Soon after we rounded the island out of view, a big one took off with my lure! I shrieked and hollered, which caused concern to those left aboard. I muscled that salmon back to the boat, having tightened the drag on my borrowed reel. It was too big for the trout net, so Grandpa flipped the fish sideways over the gunwale, using it like a pancake-turner. Whew! I was so excited. We BBQ'd salmon over a fire on the little rocky island, though it wasn't the one I caught, but rather one that offered itself to us. Dad and Grandpa were shooting at paper plates with a 22 rifle (you could do that back then!) and it just came to the surface, stunned. We enjoyed mine, which measured 22-inches, a day later at another memorable anchorage– the best BBQ'd salmon I'll ever taste!

Tenedos and Melanie

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!

Prideaux Haven to Squirrel Cove

Cruising British Columbia Volume IV: Roscoe Bay to Squirrel Cove Even though Roscoe Bay had enough going for it to keep us occupied for weeks, we followed Juniata and Millennium Dragon out into Waddington Channel, across Homfray Channel, and into Prideaux Haven, another very popular anchorage in Desolation Sound. It was a very short hop. We rolled out the jib briefly to catch a breeze and shot photos of the spectacular clouds clinging to the peaks up Homfray. The view is memorable. While Juniata and Milly D established their base mid-harbor, Rikki-tikki headed for digs closer to the south shore of Prideaux anchorage. The depths remained at fifty feet and our anchor just didn't seem to grab, so we circled around to the other side. Choosing a niche in a rocky bight, albeit one without the preferred view of the mountains, our Northill dug in and we tied to a tree ashore off the stern. Confident that we were settled for the night, Darzee took us to cocktails and dinner on Juniata, who had "the view". We bought along our Silent Sam vodka. Mmmmm... it is too smooth! It began to rain as we returned to Rikki-tikki, with distant lightning and thunder. When we awoke next morning, it was low tide and the wind was blowing us toward the shore. Clark is asking, "Is this too close, dear?" We let out some shore line and pulled in on the anchor rode to keep the ama off the rocks. (Isn't it cool how we can tie Darzee under Rikki's wing so he doesn't fill with rainwater?) Our trusty Porta-Bote dinghy, allows us to get to farther-away places for investigation. Dave and Clark went fishing after breakfast but didn't catch anything. Later, we explored nearby Melanie and Laura Coves, and went around Eveleigh Island. The morning after the thunderstorm, the carcass of a tree accented this scene looking across Homfray Channel. The second morning, when the weather was back to wonderful, and before the wakes of dozens of vessels disturb the glassy water, the reflections are amazing. The two masts just to left of center are Juniata and Milly D. We discovered a remote, tiny cove where a huge school of silver fish circled as they fed. We watched, mesmerized. Valhalla, with Wes and Patti aboard, were to meet us in Squirrel Cove, Cortes Island. Juniata and Milly D left after breakfast. Rikki-tikki, heeding his own clock, followed later on but nearly caught up to Milly D as she left the little town of Squirrel Cove, having stopped for provisions at the little store. Inside the cove, we anchored and enjoyed another evening aboard the twins. As we sipped wine, a Nordic Tug came in and dropped anchor practically on top of Juniata's chain. Dave, not happy, let out another twenty feet to back away. That night, as the wind clocked around, that insensitive powerboater ended up looking directly into our aft settee– too close! We put down the shade! On top of invading our space, at eight a.m., he started his genset. We raised our anchor and moved away into the small, shallow area just in front of the lagoon. As we finished relocating, we just happened to notice that the tide was perfect for gaining access into the lagoon. Entrance is only possible at a slack tide with enough water to cover its rocky channel. At other times, water cascades into or out of the large body of water behind this barracade. Darzee was gently floated over staghorn seaweed, purple sea stars, orange cushion stars, large burgundy and smaller white mitridium anemones, and pushed past the ledge at the inside of the channel. At this meeting of moving water, there were large schools of juvenile fishes of different kinds, some long and eel-like, others flashing open gills as they fed. We saw shield-backed crab and hundreds of wine-colored stichopus, sponges in bright oranges and pinks, big sea stars with long legs, and many colors and sizes of sunflower stars. We gazed over the sides of our little boat, entranced. Knowing time was short, we tried to absorb all the detail we were seeing, but in just a few minutes, the tide turned and took Darzee back into the channel, over the fascinating tidal environment. We were flushed back into the harbor, back into deeper water. There, the ubiquitous moon jellies slowly glided by as we rowed back to Rikki-tikki for breakfast. What a wonderful ride! We felt it was time to celebrate, now that Valhalla had joined us again, so we invited the entire flotilla aboard for appetizers. We laid out a cheese and meat tray, got out the wine, connected the JBL onTour speakers to the iPod, set it to "shuffle"– we were ready for the crowd. Clark fetched four of RTT's guests in a dinghy-train (quack-quack!). Barry, Gerta's crew, contributed a bottle of champagne for the toast– to friendship, to cruising, and to Rikki-tikki. Somehow, appetizers expanded to all ten people for dinner! Thankfully, the evening was balmy and everyone else went back to their boats to fetch the food. All we had to do was mix up Gerta's salad, heat Marcia's zucchini lasagna, provide some plates, and clean up. What a great party! RTT was properly broken in– christened, as Bev said. We waved good-bye to Juniata and Milly D the next morning and promptly headed back to the lagoon for another go at viewing the wonders there. This time we had the motor on, so we went all the way around the lagoon looking at sea creatures and exploring. There were several small, picturesque islands. We advised the crew of Valhalla that they had just enough time to get into the lagoon to see the rich and varied sealife, but they hadn't eaten breakfast yet. When they attempted entry just a short while later, the door had closed. Water rushed over the rocks from the lagoon like a waterfall. They were content with a walk along the edges. Rikki-tikki was left alone again as Valhalla went across to the dock at Refuge Cove. We decided to go to Tenedos Bay, where reportedly another lake is within easy hiking distance. Before we weighed anchor, we zoomed over to the town in Darzee for a little shopping. The store had wonderful produce in the walk-in cold box, a very good selection of groceries, a hardware section in the basement, and a liquor store. There is also a nice restaurant nearby, a crafts shop, showers and laundromat, but no diesel. We bought some California wine, eggs, cream, and produce, and made a few phone calls from the booth. The photo shows the government float at Squirrel Cove viewed from the small dinghy dock. Refuge Cove is just across the water. Great view, terrific weather! Now, we're off to Tenedos Bay!

Rebecca Spit Onward

Cruising British Columbia Volume III: Rebecca Spit Onward While Rikki-tikki was three nights at Rebecca Spit, we invited Johnie & Bev over for dinner. As we were sitting around the table, this teeny-weeny, odd-looking boat motored into the harbor. Basically, in a plywood box with a mast, this couple was out there doing it (cruising that is)! Over the fifteen years we were building, we often heard questions like, "How much does it cost to build a boat? How much does it cost to cruise? How can you afford to retire and go cruising?" Looking at little Teeweni here, not much! Then there were those, somewhat wiser folks, who asked, "Wouldn't you have more time on the water if you didn't make it so fancy?" Yes! Turns out the man who built this boat is a naval architect?! His dinghy was another plywood box tipped up and attached to Teeweni's port side. The boarding ladder on the bow was something we'd never seen. One has to admire their adventurousness. He did admit that the boat doesn't go to weather very well. In BC, who cares? The fleet had reservations at the Heriot Bay Marina around the corner and weighed anchor. We took Darzee over and joined them for dinner on Juniata the last night, getting back to Rikki-tikki just as it began to rain again. Earlier in the day, we'd dinghied into the marina for groceries at the nice store up the hill (always a hill!), and got a load of laundry done at the cute Heriot Bay Inn. An artistic proprietor has painted nearly everything in sight. Even their large propane tanks have bracken fern decoration applied using sagey green spray paints over the fronds as stencils. We asked about internet access and, surprisingly, they had free wireless! As we waited for our laundry, we picked up some email. Gerta, Clark and I strolled along the roadside picking fresh blackberries before we went back to our boats. Next morning, Rikki-tikki himself was brought into the tiny fuel dock behind the ferry landing, where he backed into place. While Clark filled the tanks, I logged onto the wireless again and was able to accomplish a few things online during that short timespan. Dave was amazed that access was free and we didn't have to have a subscription of some kind. I think we'll be going back on our way south just for the very nice grocery store and the free internet! Valhalla returned to Campbell River to pick up Wes and Patti, and would meet up with us in a few days. So with Juniata leading the way, Millennium Dragon and Rikki-tikki tagging along, we made our way through a silvery seascape up Sutil Channel toward Von Donop Inlet. The Heriot Bay ferry passing was the only break in the glistening, monochromatic scene. Clark and I had never seen water this placid since installing our autopilot and so had been unable to calibrate the unit. We steered Rikki-tikki-tavi by hand all the way here from San Francisco! We decided to take advantage of the flat calm and drive the required 400-degree circles– two of them in succession. The computer in the autopilot compares the data it collects while you are executing the maneuvers. If everything matches up, it sets the compass and you are ready to steer by just pushing little buttons on its remote. Wow. It worked the first time! We let it steer for a half-mile, then took to dodging flotsam by hand again. Von Donop was overcast, but quiet and scenic. Millions of moon jellies wafted by, pulsating through the water. We all hopped into our respective dinghies and "beached" them at the head of three trails leading to Squirrel Cove on the other side of Cortes Island. We took the short one in the middle to the head of the drying lagoon. The group assembled once again for evening cocktails and potluck dinner. Marcia said this was what they did each evening all summer long! It rained overnight, leaving great piles of cumulus clouds and sun for our trip around the northern tip of Cortes Island, down Lewis Channel, under the south end of West Redonda, to Roscoe Bay. Marcia had timed our arrival to make sure there was enough water over the drying bar midway down the entrance. Rikki-tikki was left to lead as Juniata put down a prawn trap outside in Waddington Channel. We decided on a shore-tie, Juniata and Milly D anchored, tied together, in the middle of the lovely, protected bay. Dave was at Rikki-tikki before we finished breakfast, anxious to check his prawn trap and show Clark how to catch fish. He wanted to take Darzee with his more powerful outboard. I wanted to go along– photo-op and all (and I like fishing!). Saying, "There's really not room for three in the boat", Dave relented. I enjoyed taking photos as Dave set up his fishfinder, baited his hook, had Clark set Darzee over the correct depth, and dropped the line. As soon as it reached the bottom, he had a fish! It was a bright orange red snapper, and since you can only keep one, the fishing was over in five minutes flat. Clark motored over to the trap float and Dave hauled up 300 feet of poly rope. That took some time! We were excited to see the net box, baited with a punctured can of cat food, when it reached the surface carrying a respectable number of prawns and some little crustaceans Dave called squat lobsters. The had short bodies and two long, skinny arms with pincers. We threw the little squats back, but kept the forty prawns. Here is a close-up of one of the squat lobsters. Cute, aren't they? Dave baited the trap again and dropped it overboard. Upon returning to Rikki-tikki, he showed us how to clean the fish, which he gave to us for lunch, and the prawns, which Marcia would cook for appetizers later. The water in Roscoe Bay is quite warm and filled even more thickly than Von Donop with moon jellies. We installed an Offshore Marine Labs watermaker on Rikki-tikki-tavi while he was still under construction. Up until now, the water he'd been sitting in had not been ideal for the initial flush and start-up procedure. Now, we had some time and clean water. While Clark worked on getting it started for the first time, I hung out in Darzee under the wing, watching for water output and trying to photograph jellyfish. The result is fairly pathetic, but perhaps you get some idea of how prolific they were. Here is our first taste of reverse-osmosis water from the watermaker! I took the photo with this background because there is a very free-flowing freshwater spring just at the point to the right of the glass. Someone has attached a hose far above at the source and you can even drive your "big boat" right up to it at the right tide and fill your tanks! The water is clear, cold and delicious. The next morning, on a men-only excursion out to the channel, Dave caught another red snapper– fatter than the first! He knows how to catch fish and loves every minute of the hunt. Later, we took the short, well-worn trail to large Black Lake where the swimming is very accessible off nice flat rocks, though rather slippery ones. The water is comfortably tolerable and we all had a nice rinse. Barry spent the afternoon snorkelling under Milly D to replace zincs and checking damage to Juniata's keel where Dave and Marcia tangled with a rock earlier in the summer. That evening, it was our turn to host cocktails and dinner aboard Rikki-tikki. Roscoe Bay has pretty much everything one could want; a secure anchorage protected from all weather, scenic surroundings, fishing out in the channel, a swimming lake nearby, and fresh water from a hose! We heard of folks who spend all summer here and of one fellow who spends four months here, four months in Opua, New Zealand– his two favorite places in the world! It takes months for his Pacific Ocean crossings though. We wouldn't mind paying Roscoe Bay an extended visit, but the Fleet is headed for Prideaux Haven, so untie that shoreline! (Rikki-tikki will be back.)

French Creek to Rebecca Spit

Cruising in BC Volume II: French Creek to Rebecca Spit Rikki-tikki-tavi was away from French Creek Harbor at 0930, motoring under fantastic cumulus clouds and sun, his stern lifted by long south swells, remnants of the strong winds of the previous day. The day would be a long one, a distance of over fifty-six nautical miles– a little over eight hours. We were exited to hear Valhalla and Juniata talking on the VHF when we were still south of Hornby Island– they were at Rebecca Spit, a Provincial Marine Park on Quadra Island, east of Campbell River. They didn't expect us for two more days! Our arrival would be a surprise. The weather forecast said the low front that brought all the wind was on its way south of Nanaimo. We were headed north, most of the weather heads south, so we thought any of the nasty stuff had already passed. We enjoyed watching the fantastic cloud formations as they passed southward. Then we noticed it was raining over in Baynes Sound. We felt smug that we had chosen to pass Hornby on the Strait side instead of up that channel! Shortly after we'd passed Hornby, the skies closer to us began to grow dark and ugly. A glance behind shocked us– an ominous ragged edge of stormclouds was moving very fast toward Rikki-tikki. Doesn't that look like the beginnings of a funnel cloud? We weren't anxious to experience a waterspout, but we were helpless in the path of the thunderstorm. Heavy rain was obscuring the coast of Vancouver Island and the sea was getting bumpy. We had been running with the jib out, motorsailing with a breeze from our stern starboard quarter. But this thing looked so frightening, we quickly rolled in the sail. We also unplugged our GPS and our computer just in case of lightning, and put on our rain gear. The wind picked up very fast and within five minutes, the storm was upon us. A heavy pelting rain enclosed Rikki-tikki-tavi and the surface wind veered rapidly from southeast to northwest, though the storm above was moving in the opposite direction. The drenched flag was whipped around the backstay bridle and water gushed down the mast into the cockpit. We stood huddled beneath the dodger as lightning flashed and thunder sounded simultaneously– that sure made me jump! Clark reached backwards briefly to touch the metal wheel to steer only as necessary. Earlier, we'd encountered two large tugs, each pulling a huge barge, one with a crane atop. They were crossing Georgia Strait at an angle, headed for Discovery Passage– on a collision course with us, not a very big gap between. Tugs pulling barges always have the right-of-way and we needed to adjust our course or speed to avoid them. First I tried sailing toward them which increased our speed to over eight knots with the jib out. On this course we would've had to run the gauntlet between them and that was too scary. So we chose to slow down just enough that they would pass in front of us. Problem solved. When the storm overtook us, we were following them. We soon lost sight of them in the downpour. It was a fast-moving storm, and we were grateful for it to be over. The sun broke through and Rikki-tikki-tavi began to dry out as we turned our attention back to our goal of surprising Juniata and Valhalla. We neared our quarry parked at Rebecca Spit, which is a long, narrow arm of peninsula opening to the north with an anchorage area protected from the Strait. A small gap in the trees gave Clark a chance to spot, with our binoculars, Valhalla's roller-furling jib with its "band-aid", a patch sewn to protect the suncover. We knew what we were looking for– they were there, unsuspecting. Just then channel 16 on the VHF radio crackled with a familiar and obviously gleeful voice, "RIKKI. TIKKI. TAVI., RIKKI. TIKKI. TAVI. This is Juniata." What?! How could they have seen us! We looked at each other and said, "I guess we'd better answer. We've been found out!" Once we acknowledged the call and switched to a "working channel", Dave told us he'd been sitting in the cockpit sipping a glass of wine when he just happened to look up as we passed that gap in the trees and saw a distinctive masthead. He grabbed his binocs to get a better look and, sure enough, recognized the top of Rikki-tikki-tavi's mast. He said, "It looked like something I did!" I chuckled because he did spend a lot of time helping us rig the mast, and said, "Well, we were trying to play stealth trimaran, but I guess that didn't work! Who would've thought that you would look up to gaze through the gap in the trees at at the very few seconds we passed?" Everyone was so excited as we rounded the end of the Spit into view. They sounded an airhorn and we answered with ours. We quickly chose a spot nearby to set Rikki-tikki-tavi's anchor, throw together some food to take over for our contribution to the dinner held for our last-minute arrival, launched Darzee, and rowed over to Juniata. We made short work of Marcia's porkchops, Gerta's wine, and our greenbean sauté– after all the joyful greetings and hugs, of course. Bev and Johnie joined us and we drank even more wine, talking and laughing until ten. It was a wonderful evening, better than we had hoped. After so many years of waiting for us to arrive in British Columbia, I think Dave's elation when he spied Rikki-tikki through the trees made his day! His voice over the VHF calling "RIKKI. TIKKI. TAVI." sure made ours.

Nanaimo to French Creek

Volume I: Nanaimo to French Creek Alone again on Rikki-tikki-tavi, we found enough to keep us busy for three more days! Cruisers spend a lot of time looking for ways to get supplies like water, fuel, propane, food, etc. This can be quite challenging and sometimes arduous, but it can be a fun way to explore a new spot. Some boaters make stops at marinas regularly for laundromats and showers. We shower aboard and don't make a lot of laundry, so mostly we just have to find food and fuel, plus we prefer to anchor rather than pay moorage fees. Nanaimo is a very well-developed city and it has a concentrated marina area with restaurants, a nice chandlery, a grocery and mall nearby. This view is of the downtown municipal marina and high-speed ferry landing, with the Newcastle Island/Protection Island anchorage out in the distance. Rikki-tikki is among the crowd of boats to the left of the group way out there (can you see him?). We motored Darzee across the harbor any time we wanted to come ashore, parking him behind a little floating restaurant called "Penny's Palapa". A small but interesting street fair offers fresh farmer's produce, specialty foods and crafts. With our new friends from the anchorage, Rod and Barb, we enjoyed a sunny morning at the market- I bought some lovely handmade feather and leather earrings from a First Nation woman. A troupe of preschoolers enchanted the crowd as they filed through the fair, each hatted and wearing an oversize green T-shirt emblazoned with the name of their school. A costumed bag-piper played while we did the obligatory tourist pose behind painted plywood figures representing early settlers of Nanaimo at The Bastion. I'm wearing my new feather earrings. We discovered there was a Costco along one of the Nanaimo city bus routes, so an entire day was devoted to getting there, stocking up on protein sources, and getting back! It was a very long day which cost us eight dollars in bus fare. Not inexpensive, but we found a couple of nice waterproof down vests for our winter on Galiano Island. Our little freezer full again, we pointed Rikki-tikki's bow toward the less-supplied islands of Desolation Sound. With the promise getting together with Captain Stan from Noyo, of dinner and laundry, French Creek was our destination. We were told it was very small. There was even some speculation that there would be no room for our trimaran, but Stan said he would come down and help us tie up when we called on VHF. With confidence, we motored Rikki-tikki-tavi out of Nanaimo's north entrance, carefully avoiding the infamous rocks that inhabit her harbor channel– rocks that damage and sink many vessels each year. As we approached French Creek, our VHF hails to the Captain went unanswered. He must've been called away! There would be no help on the dock, but we went in anyway, there being no other harbor or anchorage nearby. And was it tiny! Smaller than small, with every space stacked two and three deep with boats; mostly commercial fishing vessels, but quite a few sailboats, even a couple of trimarans. We inched in, stopped and backed, slowly turning around. Finally choosing a spot aside a small sailboat, we nudged ourselves in, using the boathook to position Rikki-tikki snugly with lots of fenders between us. The photo shows the spot we're headed for... behind the silver crabber, see that little sailboat? Rikki's port ama is pointing straight at it. We are thankful there was absolutely no wind! Despite missing our dinner with the Captain, by a happy chance, we enjoyed visiting with his two crewmembers, Emile and André! Emile and his wife, who dock their boat just two boats away from where we parked Rikki-tikki, drove us to the local market where we bought a few more essentials, like coffee and eggs. Thank you so much! It was wonderful seeing you again. A strong southeasterly wind howled the next day, and whitehorses pranced outside in the Strait of Georgia. We would've made a very fast passage to Rebecca Spit if we hadn't wanted to wait another day, hoping to give Stan time to return. We spent a second night, with its rather pricey dock fee, tied to that little sailboat. We are sorry we missed you, Captain Stan! The gale winds faded with the sunset. Fair weather was in the forecast for our long run to Quadra Island, where we hoped to spring a surprise arrival on our cruising friends on Juniata and Valhalla. Little did we know of what was in store for us...