Highlights,
Sidelights and General Observations from a Trip Taken by Jim and Vicki King and
Gary Knudson and Martha Scoville Between May 24 and 31, 2001
May
24-25
We left Tacoma around 6:00PM on Thursday, destined for our room at the Holiday Inn on Hwy 1, about 24km from the Horseshoe Bay ferry to Langdale. As no reservations are taken on this run, we hit the road early on the morning of the 25th, and with an hour to spare, had no trouble securing space on the 7:20AM ferry. Our plan was to meet Jim and Vicki for lunch at the Jitterbug Café in Powell River, two ferry rides away and some enjoyable 2-laning up the Sunshine Coast from Vancouver.
After gleaning some local knowledge (mostly chit-chat) and buying our shellfish permits, we set out for Lund, our home port for this trip. In warm, calm weather we loaded our boats at the Lund boat ramp. Prior to putting in we shuttled one vehicle to the roadside parking area serving the Government dock adjacent to Okeover Arm Provincial Park. This would give us maximum flexibility in dealing with our whims and the weather regarding the return route during this early-season excursion.
We launched shortly after 4:00PM and set out for our first destination, the nearby Copeland Islands. By 5:30PM we had reached the islands and had already scouted some likely campsites. Vicki is unabashed in approaching absolutely anyone local concerning the intentions and objectives of our trips. This time, she had gotten word of a great site – a tiny, west-facing bay on “Island 87” of the Copeland Group. The information proved to be accurate, and we were provided with a great base of operations for the first – and southernmost - part of our trip. A cobbled beach led to semi-wooded sites for at least 3 tents near the high tide line, and several more if one were willing to hike or climb just a bit.
After pitching our tents and making and consuming dinner in short order, we spent time together in the waning daylight and afterglow, perched on a log and reading aloud from Capt. Van’s journals of the area, as incorporated in Jonathan Raban’s Passage to Juneau.
Today’s distance paddled: about 3 – 4 NM.
Impression
We were to discover a short time later in our travels that this frequent first-stop is a precursor to the land-forms and geology of the entire Desolation Sound experience. The Copelands’ low, sheer rock cliffs with widely interspersed cobbled pocket beaches are consistent with the terrain of the entire Desolation Sound basin. With only some variation in the scale and shape of bodies of water, this was our first clue that we were in a very singular, large geographic area. The geologic variety that sometimes marks trips in the Southern Islands is absent here, and it became clear that we would be traveling to areas of a single, truly awesome space.
May 26
Another bright, warm, quiet day. As each of us had had to work very hard to achieve escape velocity from our jobs and stateside commitments, we decided to do a warm-up paddle to nearby Savary Island. This seeming paradise was highly touted in the tourist info at Powell River, and as a destination has seemed “neither here nor there”. With its purported “warmest water in the Desolation Sound area”, sandy beaches and abundant shellfish, it seemed worth a look. We had talked of a short day trip on the way back, but abhorred the idea sorting through a pile of wet, dirty gear in order to do it.
We took advantage of a favorable current to make the 3 ½ NM crossing to the dock at the easterly end of the north shore of the island. The island is accessed by private boat and water taxi at this dock. Due to its size, we chose not to explore the beaches and coves of the island’s shoreline, but we did round the east head of the island to have lunch on South Beach, a sweeping expanse of sand backed by cliffs over 100 feet high.
For the return trip, we crossed to the mainland shore, where we followed the sheer rock cliffs north to Lund. The cliffs were home to seeming vertical acres of starfish and anemones.
Upon returning to our campsite, we discovered that our bay was nearly empty of water, to the point that we had to re-check the chart to confirm our course. That done the next problem was to locate our tents. Our beach had both deepened and shelved off at a steep angle and the cobbles had become boulders, then sand. Our home was now behind the brow of a very steep rock embankment and not visible from our kayaks. We quickly oriented to the fact that the significant tidal exchange in this location worked to its own schedule and not to the nearby reference points of Pt. Atkinson and Powell River. We secured the kayaks with long lines to boulders up the beach, and over the course of the evening, we made use of the rising tide to lift all boats, minimizing the horizontal and vertical trekking otherwise required to unload gear and secure the kayaks for the evening. With the extreme tides, we were ready for a major shell fish appetizer course. We met our legal limits in the volume of oysters we gathered, shucked and sauteed. We sauteed minced onion and garlic in butter and dropped in the fresh oysters for a quick swirl. After a day on the water, nothing could have been more satisfying.
Tomorrow was to be moving day, and we bedded down to declarations of Small Craft Warnings in effect.
Today’s mileage:12 NM.
May 27
The day dawned under a small craft advisory. Conditions never seriously developed and paddling conditions would be marginal to acceptable. However, Jim awoke with an aggravation of some chronic tendonitis and Vicki complained of GI distress. The prudent course was to stay on land, and we were all secretly very pleased to have a day of beach sitting in which to read and really think through the strategy for the rest of the trip.
May 28
We awoke at 6:00AM to the marine radio crackling that the small craft warnings had been lifted for the day, and that conditions would be trending toward moderate to light. A peek out of the tent provided a much different picture, however. Our side of the Straight of Georgia was a-boil with whitecaps, and only the rocky profile and trees of our island protected us from the steady blast of the wind. We watched the crab boats from Lund half disappear behind the frothy waves as they tended their traps.
We had calculated that we had until noon to decide to move to Tenedos Bay, and we decided to dismantle camp in preparation for the blowing-out of the present system. As we awaited lightening conditions, and indeed witnessed a lighter, brighter day emerging, the marine forecast had been updated to reflect the conditions we had seen earlier. Sure enough, a whole new cycle of cloud, wind and rain was setting in, and we re-pitched camp to wait it out.
We passed the evening not so much in frustration as in relief and resignation about the avoidance of survival conditions on the water.
For those of us who venture north only once or twice a year, it is difficult but important to develop and maintain a sense of the nature and application of the Environment Canada Marine Forecast to our given area of exploration. Most mariners have this down better than kayakers. On this trip, the reference points that related to our position were Grief Point, on the coast near Powell River, Cape Mudge, the southern tip of Quadra Island and on the same latitude as Lund, directly across the Strait of Georgia, and Mary Island on the northern end of the Desolation Sound basin. Often predictions were given for specific waters north or south to Nanaimo. Because there are too many islands, channels, sounds and bays for a weather influence to be felt the same (or at all) for the whole reporting area, it is critical to pick up where you are relative to constant reference points, and, through interpolation, to develop a sense of what the general forecast means to your location or to the place where you’re headed. This is about developing a sense for patterns or trends, and shouldn’t be substituted for conservative judgement or meteorological knowledge, but it’s also another layer of information that must be gained by careful chart study and listening at the beginning of your trip there and could be an important factor in decision-making.
May 29
The real moving day, at last. We were on the water around 10:00AM under threat of building Small Craft conditions. We had beautiful conditions heading north, with moderate southerly breeze and following seas of 12 to 18 inches. After rounding Sarah Point and Zephine Head into Desolation Sound, the wind was nearly imperceptible. However, the small swell following us pressed us with an annoying quartering shove the whole distance. Those with skegs used them the whole way, and Martha had a greater challenge controlling her craft of pure, unaccessorized design. We stopped for lunch on the north side of Galley Bay, perfectly located and timed for the midday break, and one of the truly sheltered locations along the way.
Around 4:00PM we reached our destination. Tenedos Bay fills to a small bluff, with an established camping area benched into the upland. Boats were unloaded on the beach and carried t a grassy area above the rock outcrop which anchors the bluff above. A creek with several small waterfalls flanks the camping area and empties into the bay. A nearby pool proved irresistible for some very welcome bathing.
After dinner, Jim and I had set about hanging our food, when a visiting sailor mentioned that the bears had not come down from he hills yet. Indeed, the salmon berry bushes in which the bears delight and which ringed the campsite were barely beginning to form fruit.
Oysters abounded on the beach, but we avoided picking them here due to possible giardia contamination from the fresh water outfall. In addition, the petroleum slicks at the foot of the bay from passing yachts did not bode well. We would pick our shellfish remotely and paddle back with them.
Tenedos is very protected. So much so that one must paddle to the head of the bay to get a good view of the developing weather. Radio reception was very spotty. We got acceptable weather signals on channel 21. The weather forecasts were now deteriorating, and we developed alternate scenarios for return trips on either May 31st or June 1st.
Distance paddled: 10 – 11 NM.
May
30
A long day on the water today. We paddled out of Tenedos Bay and hugged the sheer cliffs of Bold Head and the other crags that led us west to Otter Island and the tiny passage that separates it from the headlands. Though very narrow, the currents here were not unreasonable. About midway through the passage, we stopped at a tiny pocket beach, which we correctly assumed would be our last rest stop before Prideaux Haven.
The trip to Prideaux was dramatic. To our right, we had the constant presence of sheer rock faces slicing down into deep water. To our left, islands of rock and timber which at once contain our route and our focus toward Prideaux Haven and frame views outward to other islands and the opposite coast of Homfray Channel, black with trees. The absolutely flat, shadowless light added to the sense of immensity of this singular place. The land had on its poker face today.
Observation: The filtered light and lack of sensible movement in the sky showed no nuance and gave no hint of what was to come. This quiet, controlled light and limited definition combined with the fact that at almost any moment, we were alone in this immense landscape to create a whole new sense of silence. This is not a clinical kind of quiet, for there was sound to be heard. Rather, the fact that this immense place itself was the only sensible thing outside of oneself leads to a silence of the soul, the kind that pounded at Captain Vancouver from within during his unpleasant stay here. I believe that this is a wonderful example of the kind of enveloping calm that is an important quality in the design and experience of sacred space (the native populations have, of course, always understood this notion as well as its deeper meanings). To the troubled mind, though, it can be disconcerting, and even torture, as Vancouver has so vividly described.
Around noon we paddled into Prideaux Haven past a tiny pocket beach just at the entry to the passage between the mainland and Eveleigh Island. We decided to keep going and dine in the very heart of our destination. The half dozen motor and sailing yachts we found scattered there were by far the densest population of fellow travelers we would see on the whole trip. Between the flat affect of the weather and the low numbers of people of any sort we encounter on the water, I had mused that we are probably paralleling Vancouver’s experience, with possible even fewer human encounters.
We paddled into the end of Melanie Cove, a muddy basin at the end of a long narrow inlet ringed by dense woods. This was, however a variation from the prohibitive rock walls we typically encountered. We did meet a couple of women kayakers here, and shared our intentions and experiences.
After lunch, we paddled around the rocky islets and tiny coves of Prideaux Haven, and then retraced our route toward Otter Island. We would break into Desolation Sound at about max ebb, and the weather report was deteriorating. A major storm system was building and in place of the usual Small Craft Warning, the were talking Storm.
We found the sea calm as we broke out of the shelter of Otter Island, and took the opportunity to visit the Curme Islands. A popular destination, these are a tightly grouped collection of small rocky summits jutting above the water some 30 feet at high tide. There are virtually no beaches on which to land; rather random shelves and clefts from which to scramble and haul gear upon landing. The rugged round tops with patches of grass and scrubby pines support somewhat exposed and rugged camping. Today, an outfitter had taken his flock out here for their wilderness adventure.
We explored the group thoroughly by land and sea, and after gathering a meal’s worth of oysters, headed back to camp on a still–calm sea.
After unloading and storing the kayaks on a grassy ledge above the beach, we hiked the trail to Unwin Lake, less than ½ mile up the trail. This is a good-sized lake surrounded by dense forest and rimmed by deep green mountains. From here a network of streams and lakes leads to both Tenedos Bay and cross-country to Prideaux Haven.
With the weather forecasts sounding more dire, we knew tomorrow would be our traveling “window” and prepared mentally and physically for the move back towards home. We would keep our options open as to whether and where to camp the last night out.
Distance paddled today; 11 NM.
May
31
We awoke to clearing skies and calm weather, and were on the water by about 10AM for the return leg of the trip. We took the opportunity to skirt the rocky shore and look closely at the flora and fauna that we saw only from a distance on the way up.
A real anomaly was the private house at Portage Cove, well within the boundaries of the wilderness preserve. With obnoxious warning signs all around his beach-front and a manicured lawn across the isthmus that closes the portage off from either side we beheld one of the more out-of place sights of the trip. Add to this the proud and fiercely independent homeowner cruising about majestically on his riding mower, and you have an absurdly perfect vision of man’s domination over nature.
We lunched at a little pocket beach just north of Galley Bay. The site provided wonderful panoramic views north and west up Desolation Sound.
Rounding Zephine Head and heading into Malaspina Inlet, we got a good boost from the filling tide, long after we felt it should be present. This lift carried us over half way down the channel. At this point we were noting the gathering clouds and were all feeling a bit of the “horses-to-the-barn” impulse. So we looked hard at Grace Harbor and the entrance to Lancelot Inlet, but reserved exploration for another time. The shoreline was similar to that of the Sound, but wit features of a smaller scale. There is more residential development here and the landscape is a bit more pastoral, wit a riparian quality.
Starting at Coode Peninsula, the shore-scape becomes a bit junky, with mom-and- pop oyster farms littering the shore. As we near the south end of Coode Peninsula, we can begin to make out our destination, the Government dock just south of Okeover Arm Provincial Park. It was a bee-line from here on in, with an uneventful landing, unloading and car shuttle back to Lund. We really appreciated the latitude that the car shuttle lent the trip, and highly recommend this approach.
With fond, if hasty goodbyes said on the beach, we parted company, and considered our options for a leisurely trip back home.
Today’s mileage: about 12 NM.
Epilog
While picking up the King’s car in Lund, I attempted to make a reservation at the Lund Hotel, and was informed the all rooms were booked. We did get a referral for a nightly rental of a charming little cottage up the hill from the City Center ($70 Cdn). It turns out that the Hotel didn’t fill; not by a long shot. Turns out they get lots of “holds” on a just-in-case basis from loggers. If one wanted to stay in Lund at the conclusion of the trip, it would be good to reserve upon departing.
We ate at the Laughing Oyster restaurant, near the take-out point. An excellent choice. The food was fresh, totally BC in origin and prepared and presented with youthful panache.
That night, snug in our little cottage, we experienced a downpour of such intensity that it even impressed the unflappable locals. This, together with the wind and rain and thunder that came in the package made us very glad that we had headed to the barn early. That last night out would have been miserable, and the dregs of the storm that lingered into the following day would have made the last leg a real chore.
We played tag with that storm, its wind and rain all the way south to Tacoma.