May 29, 2022:  Tenacious Sails Again …

 We are once again aboard our beloved Tenacious. Our last trip was in 2019 and we have missed our summer adventures. At long last, we are on our way!

June 3, 2022: Broughton Archipelago 

All the cleaning, repairing and restocking are finished (plus the dislodging of a colony of bats living in the folds of our mainsail, but that's a story for another time.) We have planned our departure for a favorable tide, and leave early so the strong tidal currents will give us a push down the Fraser River and north through the Georgia Strait. A fuel stop and an anchorage or two will bring us to the Broughtons, familiar stomping grounds.

Mimquamlis means "village with islands in front:

We visit Village Island. I love to explore the beach there while Patrick takes the dinghy around the constellation of islets out front. He hunts with his fishnet for Dungeness crabs near the tide line. It’s a very low tide today. The beach I’m on is usually covered with up to 12-14 feet of water. At low tide this morning it is just mud and big rocks, starfish and anemones temporarily stranded, clams squirting in the clear air. My walkie-talkie rings. It’s Patrick, calling from the dinghy to ask excitedly, “Can you see the bear?” A black bear is browsing along the shoreline about 40 yards from me. I see him when he ambles out from behind a huge boulder. I feel the thrill of the nearness of this 300+-lb animal, but the wonder and gratitude are overwhelming. He lifts his muzzle – I’m upwind and I’m sure he knows I’m not far—and calmly continues to feed, turning over watermelon-sized rocks to feed on shore crabs, ghost shrimp, blennies and whatever tasty inter-tidal riches are revealed.

I move on with my beach combing, harvesting a baggie-full of sea asparagus. It’s young and the stems aren’t woody as they can be later in the season. After a few fresh-water rinses and a vinaigrette, it will add a delightful flavor and crunchy texture to our salad. I keep an eye on the bear, who has moved on to grazing a patch of sedge grass, a high-protein spring staple for bears who need to get their digestive systems going after hibernation, and before berry season and the late summer return of spawning salmon.  .

 We’ve shared the beach, this bear and I, each traversing the territory, seeking food. I don’t sense the bear feels any concern. I feel no fear, thought my awareness is heightened. Rather, I feel amazement-gratitude-wonder-awe, and calm and peace. It’s difficult to describe the sense belonging I have in a place so wild.  

 Patrick and I move on and anchor in Shoal Harbor to see friends in the area. I'm treated to several visits with my friend, Billy Proctor, who is a legend on this coast. He has the best stories of life in these waters; fishing, logging, sea rescues, beachcombing, and carving a living out of this unforgiving part of the world for over 80 years. My little collection of treasures was first inspired by the museum he built to house his collection artifacts of life in this area, from thousands of years old to decades old. Love you, Billy!

June 13: Fitzhugh Channel

This morning we transited one of the “barriers” to traveling north on the Inside Passage: Cape Caution is beyond the protection of Vancouver Island from Pacific winds and seas. Slower cruisers like us generally anticipate ‘rounding Caution’ with little enthusiasm. The area combines winds from the open ocean, currents from all directions and often, pea soup fog. Swell from the Pacific can make this passage truly and uniquely miserable. Thankfully, our passage is uneventful this time, and we see a sea otter rocking among the waves as we pass. We have seen them return to these waters after they were over-trapped for decades. So adorable!

In the calmer waters of Fitzhugh Channel, I’m down below making chicken noodle soup for dinner when Patrick shouts there is a whale ahead, and it’s breaching. For the next 30 minutes or so, we are treated to an epic humpback whale show. Over and over, the whale flukes and dives, then launches itself out of the water to topple and make an enormous splash. Forward, backward, sideways. It’s hard not to imagine this whale is having a helluva lot of fun. We laughed and shared its playful joy. Whale gratitude!

Here is a link to a video clip on YouTube:  https://youtu.be/3UYMB_1ctEk                            

June 14: Pruth Bay

We are in a series of low tides now, and that’s always a good time for a dinghy cruise. Pruth Bay has many nooks and crannies to explore, so we set off with anticipation and cameras. Patrick poles us along the tide line and past granite banks with a paddle so we travel slowly and silently. Eagles soar above and harbor seals swim by to stare at us with surprised looks on their whiskered faces, eyebrow hairs raised at our effrontery.

The sea life is colorful and amusing. Stranded plumose anemones hang suspended from their rocks, looking desparately uncomfortable. We see giant pink stars, purple stars, bat and leather stars. In one little bay there are thousands of tiny sea urchins on the sandy bottom. Red rock crabs and spider crabs crawl amid the seaweed on rocky ledges. Hours of fun and entertainment!

The sunny afternoon lures out to West Beach, a short hike through the forest at the head of the bay. There we are greeted by an arch of wide, sandy beach. Beachcomber that I am, I collect a pocketful of whitecap limpet shells, and clamber among gigantic drift logs and colorful rounded rocks that adorn the high-tide line. When  we were here a few years ago, we found a Dungeness crab nursery. Dozens of them bumping around in the warm, shallow water of a sandy tide pool. We broke open a mussel to see what they would do ... they swarmed it almost instantly. So many hungry little crabs! 

 

  

As the light changes late in the day, we think about returning to Jake and Simon, the Kitty Boyzz, hot showers and a cozy dinner aboard Tenacious. Altogether a most satisfactory day.