Dances with Duffel

  Or Circumnavigating Vancouver Island

  Or How I spent my summer vacation

by Ed Moye

Part 5: August 27-September 3, 2000

8/27/00

Log entry. I changed the oil in the motor. We charged the batteries all night. DT

1000 Log entry. We pulled away from the fuel dock after taking on 11 liters of fuel. The day is bright and sunny, a welcome warmth after a cold, clear night. DT

1602 Log entry. We set the anchor in Santa Gertrudis Cove it took three or four tries to get it to bite

We've had a gorgeous day - sunny, warm, and dry. We even got in 2.5 hours of sailing, running down Tahsis Inlet and into Nootka Sound. DT

Computer entry. On the hook again. Dinner is done and tomorrow's navigation is double checked and programmed into the GPS.

We made the passage from Zeballos today. It was quite narrow in places and we had to time our passage to hit slack water at Tahsis Narrows. This was further complicated by a tug hauling a large boom of logs. It kept gaining on us as we entered the confined channel. Not wanting to hit the narrows at the same time as an unwieldy boom of logs, I pulled into a cove and did cookies until the tug was gone.

Beyond the narrows the channel opened into Tahsis Inlet and a stunning view. All morning we had navigated narrow passages. Steep walls rose abruptly from the water's edge obstructing views of what lay beyond. As we left the narrows the vista ran for miles up the inlet to the town of Tahsis. Above Tahsis stood some of the most impressive mountains we have seen in some time. The entire inlet was lined with steep terrain. Form the waters edge snow capped mountains that rose 4000 feet into the air. Jagged escarpments where the snow pack apparently still thinks it is winter.

The sky stayed blue. It was sunny and warm most of way. Then, to top of it all off we got a great down wind run for the last 8 miles. We had the Genoa on the whisker pole and the full main pulling us along at 4 to 5 knots. In the better gusts we got above 6 knots through the water. It was gentlemanly sailing requiring only the lightest touch on the helm. The Tahsis Wind is what the cruising guide called this down channel blow. I thought it would end when we got to the main channel but it blew steady all the way to our anchorage. It was a casual day of Visual Flight Rules navigation. Much more relaxed than keeping the boat on an electronic highway that only exists in the imagination of the GPS. Tahsis Channel was big and wide. There was deep water from shore to shore. There were a few places we had to pay close attention to landmarks to follow a channel but for the most part it was an effortless cruise. And then we got wind on top of it all. It was almost enough to soften the impact of the monster I let out of the box last night.

Right after arriving in Zeballos yesterday I got to reading the guide books about the Nootka Sound. The area is simply covered with historic sites. Spanish explorers, Captain Cook and the start of the fur trade, many First Nations sites, Killer views. I realized after very little reading that this would be a great area to explore with the Folbot in tow. We could easily slip to shore to explore a great number of interesting places. All in all, a perfect sea kayaking destination. That's when the fatal thought entered my head.

It seemed a reasonable thing to think about how far we still have to go. It also seemed a good idea to assess the remaining time. So without realizing the implications, I dug out my calendar for the first time since we left Anacortes. Adding up the sums I concluded we had 190 miles to go and 17 days to do it in. Seemed reasonable. At this point in my thought process DT came back from the store. We began to discuss how long it would take to get home. There are some long exposed coastal runs as we enter the Straits of Juan De Fuca. We stepped it out on the small scale chart and it looked as if the last passages from Barkley Sound to Sooke harbor would take 2 days. It was another fair day to Victoria and another day to Anacortes. So that meant four exposed days of sail. Dennis said “ we should bank eight days for that stretch of water”. That soon led to thinking through how long we should spend getting to Barkley Sound. And that led to the realization that time was running out. We had already spent many days waiting out bad weather. Two days in Bull Harbor before we rounded Cape Scott. Three days in Winter Harbor waiting for a break to round Cape Cook. Here and there the days that I had pictured as being for kayaking, hiking, sailing and such were spent. We had not kayaked in Winter Harbor because we wanted to be able to get under way in a hurry if the weather sounded good. The locals told us it was not a good idea to walk around in the woods out side town because there had been a mother and cubs hanging near by for the last few weeks. So we waited in the boat as the rain beat overhead and the interior of the boat got damp from days of condensation.

Once the calendar was out of the box, it immediately assumed control. Our thinking at this point is that we must make passage whenever possible. We can't anticipate when the next 3 days of enforced waiting will hit, so we must bank time to deal with that possibility in mind. Our conclusion was that we should focus on making passage until we reach Barkley Sound. Then we need eight days after that to deal with the long exposed passages toward Anacortes. There was no way around it we were finally trapped in a schedule! Suddenly there really wasn't any time to just decide to stop and smell the roses any more. We would have to try and catch the scent of Vancouver Island on the run. Out of nowhere, my vacation suddenly had a clock ticking over it.

At this point the goal is to get to Barkley Sound ASAP. Then we will see just how much exploration time there is, if any. All day today I kept running into the same realization. The clock had begun ticking. I don't know if I will be able to put it away. All that from digging a calendar out of the dunnage.

Speaking of dunnage. I had a flash of insight yesterday evening as Dennis and I were moving bags of gear around. We wanted to get into the hatches under the cockpit and there is no way to do that without moving a lot of gear first. In fact, that is probably the most frequently activity on our little boat. The good news is that no matter what you want, your always know exactly where to find it. The bad news is that it is always under everything you own. So you move stuff to. You move stuff fro. You move stuff aft. You move stuff fore. You shuffle things from side to side. Then when you are done you put all the same stuff back where it was so that the next time you want something from that locker... you get to move all your stuff first. Day in and day out, we move everything on Lacuna again and again and again. It got scary when I started to think how many tons of lifting we had done in the last 6 weeks. And it would never end, as long as the voyage continued. Ton by ton we would pay the price for a small boat and large ambitions.

The interior of our 23 foot boat is a small space in which to perform these inertial maneuvers without throwing an action packer on your ship mate. Nothing brings a guy down like 45 pounds of stuff landing unexpectedly on his lap. I realized that, over the weeks of our voyage, we have steadily perfected our luggage handling skills. We are now quit adept at pitching gear around each other. Some accomplishment. When I get asked how I spent my summer vacation I will smile knowingly and answer “Dances With Duffel”.

It has grown dark while I sat at this keyboard. It is surprising how time vanishes when I sit down and start writing. It is getting easier for me to fall into the rhythm of writing. At first it was awkward. I had not done much writing for some time. I stumbled over the keyboard a lot. It was also not so easy for my mind to keep up a printed monologue. But with practice comes proficiency. It hit me today that maybe I will be able to keep up a steady flow of writing for the next couple of weeks. There is always so much going on around us as we make our way around the island. We are very busy with all the tasks required to keep Lacuna moving along with the wet side down. Tasks can narrow your awareness to the point where you don't notice the eagle watching you from the nearby tree. Or you forget to notice the phosphorescent fireworks that happen in the water around the boat at night. Without stopping to think, I simply miss the miracle right outside my window.

When the sea lions were churning up the boils of fish in Bull Harbor there was another boat right next to us. They never noticed the dance of life boiling out of the water right next to their hull. We talked to them later and they were amazed to find that they had been so close and so completely oblivious.

In a way, I think writing could be a way for me to be a bit more aware of all the experiences rushing past me as we round this island. If I write it down I have to think about it until I can draw a clear picture. I know in another month or year I will not be able to reconstruct these experiences near as well as I can record them now. If I am not going to get the sea kayaking I dreamed of on this voyage, maybe I can catch the feeling of living next to an eagle in words. Watch, listen, and resonate to the water boiling around our hull.

8/28/00

0700 Log entry. We pulled anchor and motored out into Nootka Sound. Estevan Point is the last of the “Three Great Capes of Vancouver Island”. The forecast, of 20 knot winds at Estevan point by noon, makes us wary. So we were up and out early to try and make the rounding of Estevan Point before then. Last night was a peaceful one. No wind or rain. In fact there was no condensation on the action packers we put outside in the cockpit for the night. We have 13 miles before we get to make our first turn to round Estevan point. At this point the swells are low. We will see what transpires in another couple of hours.

0845 Log entry. I can see Estevan Point. The seas are gentle and the view is grand. Our passage out Nootka Sound has been near perfect. We even got a current boost for a while. There are clouds to the north, but all still looks good for a passage. This landscape is ravaged by logging. But this land is still a wondrous place. Looking over Lacuna's stern I see the green foothills and islands of Nootka Sound. A jawbone of jagged snow clad teeth forms the skyline above the sound we left this morning. Those mountain peaks reach 3700 feet into the air in 3 miles of distance. This is big terrain. Nootka Sound has more alpine peaks around its waters than the coast north of here. Two days ago we were hesitant to believe our own eyes when we spotted snowfields in the clouds above Esperanza Inlet. Both Dennis and I watched for sometime not believing we were seeing snow so close to the coast! After our passage down the low lands of Cape Scott and Brooks Peninsula, we were hesitant to believe our own eyes. It must snow very hard around here in the winter for there to still be such large snowfields below 4000 feet in late August! Our passage through Esperanza to Zeballos to Tahsis to Nootka has been mountainous and reminiscent of the inland passages of Vancouver's east coast. Despite its reputation as the wettest place on Vancouver Island, we had 3 days of sun! Also like the inland passages of the east coast.

1030 Log entry. To the northwest there are building clouds. The peaks of Nootka vanished into rain clouds half an hour ago. So far still no rain falling on Lacuna. The sky is mostly overcast. There are a few blue areas to the south. In fact we have had good views of the ridges above Clayoquot Sound. Big snowfields or glaciers up on those ridges. We are now headed toward Hot springs cove, which is visible in the distance. Dennis just put on his rain gear and I expect to follow soon. A little over 8.5 miles to go.

1100 Log entry. Rain never materialized though it has not been sunny for some time now. We can see the navigation light at the head of Hot Springs Cove. The ridges above Clayoquot Sound are still visible. But it doesn't look like it will be long until they vanish into the mist.

1240 Log entry. Nearing Hot Spring Cove. Just sighted the Lady Washington motoring out of Hot Springs Cove. Just realized that we saw this same ship a few days back. So that is 3 sightings on this voyage.

1300 Log entry. Arrived at the Hot Springs Cove dock. There is a light rain falling and a full blown tourist attraction raging outside. The float dock is swarming with a new boat load of people. A float plane just took off making a deafening noise as it left the water. We rounded Estevan Point ahead of the approaching storm. No day lost to weather today, so I guess that means we gained one day back.

Computer Entry. Lacuna is now tied to the public dock at Hot Springs Cove National Park. It is gently raining and there is a steady stream of tourists disembarking from tour boats to walk up to the springs. We are both holed up down below to escape the press of humanity on the dock. French, Italian, and German can be heard as they pass Lacuna. Quite the procession of cosmopolitan tourists. We are getting closer to the population centers of Victoria and Vancouver and the crowds are starting to spill over into my personal dream. Invited or not the Twenty First Century is beginning to crowd my wilderness voyage.

Today got off to a roaring start. We missed the 0600 forecast. We caught the forecast at 0615. The forecaster predicted a calm morning ending abruptly around noon with the coming of 25 knot winds at Estevan Point!!! The local conditions did not reflect this forecasted storm. All the lighthouses, buoys and automated reporting stations in the area sounded good. Our anchorage in Santa Gertrutis Cove put us in a good position to round Estevan Point. We decided to make a run for it. There was some apprehension with what we intended. Situated at the outer end of Hesquiat Peninsula, Estevan Point projects far out into the Pacific, is very exposed, and is noted as a good place to get you ass kicked by storms. Despite this fact by 0700 we had hauled the hook. As the rising sun wove a tapestry of purple velvet and molten gold across the eastern sky Lacuna was running out into the open ocean.

Powering away from the Nootka lighthouse under a blue sky with the sun breaking over the Nootka Sound skyline was spectacular. Mountains that had played hide and seek as we cruised through the low islands of Nootka, now struck bold profiles against the eastern light. Jagged rocks that looked near vertical for last thousand feet crowded the horizon. Many snowfields clung high in the rocky crags. Not since Kingcome inlet has the snow been this close to the water. The vista over Lacuna's stern this morning made snowfields seem commonplace

As the morning wore on it proved to be one of the most scenic passages yet. Out well beyond the coastal rocks of Estevan Point we could see from Brooks peninsula to Lenord Island south of Clayoquot Sound. This was the biggest coastal view yet. We could see a week of passage behind us to the northwest and a week of cruising ahead of us to the southeast. It was magnificent.

As it turned out the forecaster missed the weather by quite a wide mark. It did cloud up as the morning went on. I gave thought to the wisdom of our running on our own 0600 assessment and not the word of the professional forecaster. We also hit some contrary current that would have been interesting with a 25 knot north wind. I even pointed out that we could still make it back to Santa Gertudis Cove. Fortunately cooler heads prevailed since that forecasted wind never materialized. Our passage around Estevan Point and across the open waters of Hesquait Harbor went smoothly. We arrived at Hot Springs cove without complications. In fact it didn't even rain until our final approach to the cove. Lacuna has now rounded the last of the “Three Great Capes”!

Nootka sound had a lot of alpine terrain standing right next to the water. I was pleasantly surprised to see such terrain again. Clayoquot Sound looks to be much the same. We have decided to follow the inland passage through Clayoquot to Tofino. This is protected by Floras and Vegas Islands and is close to the same distance as the open ocean route. Though the ocean is wonderful when it is clear like this morning, it quickly gets monotonous as the visibility drops. Inland there is a substantial improvement in the odds of being able to make passage on a given day, since it is better protected from the weather. Clayquot is also our last chance to make an inland passage.

Barkley Sound is the next big inland body of water south of Clayoquot. It does not have the long dendritic channels of Nootka or Clayoquot but is rather more of a large open bay with many small island clusters scattered about it. It is renowned as a sea kayaking destination. We may be able to do some sea kayaking there ourselves if the time allows. Shit - there is that damn calendar ticking again!!!

I am excited by our arrival at Hot Springs Cove despite the crowds. Dennis just informed me that he is put off by hot springs in general. This was a surprise to me because I have many good memories of hot springs on cold days. Some of them even include him. He just feels that they tend to attract a rough element and he has not been comfortable at one for some time. He also confessed a prejudice in regard to this particular hot springs. It seems that Jill did a 30 mile hike to come to Hot Springs Cove 30 years ago. She was crestfallen when they arrived and the place was full of boaters!!! This story has apparently become a Todd family myth about the bummer hot springs trip. I was sorry to hear this. But I really wanted to see the place.

Andy Gram, the cook at the Oregon Country Fair, told me about this place 10 or more years ago. I remember her description of a series of hot pools that began in a very hot waterfall. The pools grew successively cooler as they ran out into a small cove. Here ocean waves washed into the hot pools swirling cold waters of the Pacific with the hot mineral springs of Vancouver Island. Her description has stuck with me and I have wanted to see this place ever since. Dennis has graciously agreed to moor at the park dock for the night.

I plan to hike up to the springs at the end of the day and carry a flashlight so I can come back after dark. Dennis and I are also talking about a very early hike up to the springs before the sun comes up. That is probably our best bet of seeing the place without a crowd. Both of us would like to have that experience.

Solitude is very remote from the kind of experience we are having at this moment. The park dock is a ZOO!! Water taxis, float planes, fishing boats, and dinks constantly discharge tourists. A steady parade of tourists look down into Lacuna's cockpit as they walk the ramp leading up from the float dock. It is a bit like being an animal in an exhibit. I have retreated up into the bow just like I do when it is raining outside. The afternoon forecast is for heavy tourist downpours until later in the evening.

Dennis and I did take a walk out to the springs just after we arrived. It is an interesting 2 kilometer boardwalk through a rainforest. It is in good repair and was rebuilt recently. The walk that it replaced was reputed to have some wonderful carved planks along the way. For years boats would carve their names on the planks of this old boardwalk. It is widely written about. The reconstruction took place in the last 5 years is my guess. Already the boaters have commenced to carve the planks along the boardwalk. I thought there was a good deal more such planks than reported by the guide books which were published a year or two ago. They reported sadness at the loss of a cultural heritage. I suspect the custom is alive and well, and gaining on the remodeled plank way.

Dennis, as tomorrow's Navigator, is now working on plotting tomorrow's course. Our custom is to trade the tasks of Helm and navigation between us every day. In the beginning of this voyage navigation amounted to plotting compass courses and half hour positions. This was done as we made passage and, other than selecting a destination, required little effort from the navigator the night before. As we got closer to the ocean passages we started to plot routes in the GPS. This practice offered the advantage that if someone were injured, there would be a course to follow. Without needing to come below to do navigation, a single person could handle getting Lacuna into port. The GPS is also our best insurance against the fabled “Fogust” mists of Vancouver Island's west coast. According to the cruising guides, these fog banks can materialize without warning this time of year. As a result of this new routine the next day's navigator now regularly spends the preceding evening plodding through the demanding task of programming the route into the GPS.

First of all, new maps for the next day have to be pulled out of storage tubes and the old ones from the previous day have to be put away in another storage tube. This task alone takes up much of Lacuna's limited cabin space. There are 4 different cruising guides, and maybe as many charts to consult as you look for the next day's destination and route. On a day of complicated navigation it is hours of work to study all the relevant information: At the mouths of the inlets, and outlying points of land there are winds and tides to consider. You must determine the tidal flow at such critical places to know when they are passable. Then you have got to remember that Day Light Savings Time adds an hour to everything in the tide chart. There are rips and currents to decipher. Rocks, shoals, and approaches must be puzzled out of the charts and cruising guides. There are hidey holes and anchorages to look over. Marinas have to be assessed as to whether they sell food or gas. Nearby hiking trails, historical sites, vistas and general points of interest are also high priorities for an anchorage.

Once you get to plotting the actual course, the details take over. Charts frequently have different scales that require close attention. Besides the usual changing of the size of the scale from chart to chart, some charts are metric some are Imperial measures. The charts were surveyed at different times and as a result are laid out to different datum. This must be accounted for when entering waypoints into the GPS. Use the wrong datum to enter a waypoint and you could get Lacuna on the rocks.

Once you get to entering all the specific information into the GPS the real kick – in – the - head fun begins! There is no keyboard on the GPS but rather a temperamental up/down yes/no 4 way rocker pad entry system. This is very susceptible to inadvertently changing the previous entry as you enter the next number. This, in my mind, is the biggest shortfall of these otherwise remarkable machines. This shortfall drives me nuts!!! It is also very time consuming.

Route plotting and route programming must be done with meticulous care. Parts of these tasks are so mundane that inattention is a constant hazard. Once this is done you get to go back and double check it for errors. One wrong number out of a hundred and the course gets catawampus. Detail, Details, Details But we are becoming navigators.

As a scientist, Dennis' mind is much quicker than mine at assimilating these exacting new skills. For me it is a plodding ordeal at best. At times I would like to slam the little GPS up against something big and hard. It is frustrating to have to work so hard to not be outwitted by a 3 oz piece of plastic.

Yesterday Dennis didn't do a GPS route because it was a no-brainer of a sail. Like we did at the start of the voyage, we just followed the channel. I have taken to calling these laid back passages running on VFRs or Visual Flight Rules.

Most other days on the water demand much greater efforts to manage. As a precaution against mistakes as we make our way, we have made a habit of checking GPS route changes against our position as plotted on the charts by visual sighting, compass bearings and GPS Lat /Lon positions. This plotting gets done every 1/2 hour if the navigator is on top of the task. It slips at times because there is sail handling to, the helmsman needs a break, or the navigator just spaces out. On more difficult passages our position is plotted more frequently to closely monitor our progress. Navigating is a demanding job with great responsibility. The good news is that we are getting better all the time at it.

As I was writing this journal I looked up to see a huge Police catamaran maneuvering near to our boat. I am unsure of their intentions, and I am unaccustomed to such a large police presence. The boat is 66 feet long. It has a low deck on the stern where they wench their 16 foot RIB in and out of the water. It is probably even a dry launch and landing. They probably just drive the small boat up the deck of the larger boat. They are also towing larger RIB along side.

The boat finally tied up at the dock. I went down to look it over and it was 66 feet long. It is an R.C.M.P craft and had a logo of a mounty on horseback on the side of the conning tower. As I walked by I asked one of the guys on board if they had any horses on board since their boat was obviously large enough to handle it. The cop smirked and hooked his thumb in the direction of the engine room below “Oh yea we got 1600 of them down there”. We both laughed. This place is a real ZOO!! (Later rumors that circulated on the dock was that they were waiting to bust a freighter bringing illegal Chinese immigrants. Apparently the smugglers have been buying junk freighters and beaching them in Canada leaving the ships and the passengers to fend for themselves.)

8/29/00

1336 Log entry. We're motoring into Clayoquot Sound after spending the night at Hot Springs Cove public dock. It was crowded and busy - there are a couple of fish boats, a couple of modest yachts, some dinks, the (recently resigned ) Warfinger's 34 foot motor cruiser, and a giant RCMP catamaran tied up at the dock. There were water taxis coming and going, a few float planes, and crowds of people embarking and disembarking. Despite the crowds, we stayed.

Ed went to the pools yesterday evening and had to find his way back by Braille after his flashlight failed. We both went this morning before anyone else got there - we had the springs to ourselves. It was low tide, so I didn't get to experience the waves crashing into the hot pools as Ed did last night, but it felt great. The boardwalk that reaches 2 k (or 2 miles depending on your source) is carved with boat names, a long tradition here, so Ed carved Lacuna 00 prominently. DT

Computer entry I had a fantastic time at Hot Springs Cove. I found it absolutely enchanting. The boardwalk was an artfully constructed engineering project. The planks were 3”x10” cedar boards and the framing was all four by stock. It wound under logs and around root wads. It soared over bogs and climbed hills in multiple flights of stairs. All the corners were cut on a radius and the craftsmanship was clean. It provided delightful views of the coastal forest. Nurse logs and stumps spawned hordes of what Dennis calls “Spider Trees”. These trees grew around the trunks of ancient stumps and snags, putting down long snaking roots to the ground. As the nurse log rots away the original root wad ends up standing as much as 6 feet up in the air on these long roots. An otherwise normal tree would climb skyward from these spider like legs. I kept expecting to turn around suddenly and catch one of them crab walking through the deep fern beds.

I went to the hot springs 3 times. Dennis and I hiked up there when we arrived and the place was a tourist zoo. We just turned around and hiked back to Lacuna, marking it up as a good walk. In the evening, after the tour boats and float planes had gathered their hoards of people and left, I walked down to the springs to wait for dark in the springs. I packed a towel, a flashlight and a swim suit and set off gliding along the platforms and stairs to the springs.

The springs issue forth from a crack in the earth at 8 liters per second according to the nearby signboard. The steaming water poured down a streambed to spread out across a broad rock. Tumbling over the rock's edge three separate 8 foot waterfalls were formed. This falling water fed the hot pools below. Several pools filled the bottom of a cleft in the stone. Beyond the last pool the water snaked down through boulders into a wave washed cove. Low seas provided a constant pulse and surge of moving waters in the cove.

Gone were the countless throngs of the afternoon. There were only 4 other people there and I eagerly joined them in the hot water. I slowly worked my way down the pools until I came to what appeared to be the last one in the cleft rock. A Canadian couple assured me that this was the last of the pools.

The overhead rocks were everywhere draped with seaweed. This was a place of the ocean. In fact I think that the chasm that contains the pools is a flume cut from the rock by wave action. There were large pieces of driftwood lying at the head of the flume where the sea had flung them. The logs had not been there long, for the exposed wood was still pink, leading me to believe that the flume is an active place in the winter months. A work in progress!

I decided to climb down to the oceans edge. It was a careful scramble over mussel bound boulders, but I was able to follow the steaming water down to another small pool located just above the incoming tide. I laid down in this warm pool amid the mussels, starfish, and seaweed that encrusted the surrounding rocks. There I spent the next 30 minutes watching the tide surge up the channel toward me. Waves would bubble up in odd places among the surrounding boulders. At times it looked as if the water was washing over rocks that were higher than my head. Cold ocean water would pulse up into the pool. Icy fingers sweeping along the pool bottom to caress my skin. After sitting in hot water for so long this felt great. I laid in the pool until the incoming waves made it too cold for me to stay. It was quite an experience..

After leaving the sea - washed pool, I walked back up to the hot waterfalls. There were 3 streams tumbling over the rock cliff. The first was a light trickle. The second fell into a small pool of standing water. Standing under this stream was soothing. But it was the third stream that was the best. Most of the water ran in this stream and it fell heavily, working like a skilled masseuse on my head, neck, and back. It was hard to hear anything but my heart beat above the pounding water. A shimmering cloak cascaded off my shoulders and down my body. Standing naked in this cloak of hot water felt ancient. In my minds eye I saw ancient people sharing this experience with me for thousands of years. The falling water was very hot and I could not stay in it for long, but for those few moments life was profoundly rich. Considering the draw backs of this being a fairly developed area (did I mention it was a ZOO?), I must say I was not disappointed. Hot Springs cove was everything Andi had told me, and so much more.

As I set off walking back to the boat it was a bit of an effort to coax my relaxed body in to the task at hand. Walking was a bit more work than my rubbery legs wanted to do. But knowing I didn't want to sleep there, I dried off and headed back to Lacuna. But the real adventure was yet to come.

It was getting dark when I decided to head back to Lacuna. I had brought a flashlight because a woman in Zeballos had told Dennis and I of a harrowing experience finding her way out in the pitch dark along the rail less elevated boardwalk. As dusk set in I got out my headlamp and turned it on. It refused to work. It had new batteries in it but it would not turn on.

As the forest grew ever darker, I didn't care much for the irony of the situation. There are no guardrails on most of the walkway. So there is little to cue you into just where the planking might make one of those elegant curves I had so admired only a few hours ago. An unwary step could yield a quick 4 foot plunge into a coastal bog. A couple of stumbles on unexpected flights of stairs really slowed me down. The whole concept of a “Flight of stairs” took on a new and intimidating aspect. By the end of the trail I was finding my way by Braille, inching one foot carefully forward to test the load bearing qualities of the pitch darkness ahead. I was so intently concentrated on the task of not stepping off into space, that I didn't notice I was covered in adrenaline induced sweat until I was almost back to the dock. I really could have been happy just having heard the woman's story in Zebollos and calling it good. I didn't need to experience it so intimately at all.

In the morning Dennis and I got up early. The talk on the dock the previous day was that there was usually no one at the springs until the first tour boat arrived at 0900. We went down to the springs at 0730 and had it entirely to our selves. Again the place won my heart. Even Dennis was impressed.

That morning we had the narrows at Hayden Passage to transit on our way to Trofino and the current would not be favorable close to noon. Dennis wanted to go photograph the “Spider Tree Forest”. I on the other hand had other ideas. Gathering a set of chisels from Lacuna's wood working box I set off to leave a memento of Lacuna's stay here. I found a boardwalk plank without many knots. It was the rear board of a 2 board step, so most of the foot traffic wear would fall beyond it. There I set about carving. As I worked the Warfinger came by and asked “You are not defacing park property are you!” I admitted that I felt strangely compelled to do so. He laughed and said “Luckily you are in the only park where it is permitted”. He then walked off leaving me to finish the work I had started. The result was nowhere as artistic as some of the other boards I had seen but it was better than a lot of others as well.

1916 Log entry. We're tied up at a public dock in the very busy port of Tofino - We took on 30 liters of gasoline. DT.

Computer entry. Our passage to Tofino was a circuitous one involving several channels. Upon leaving Hot Springs Cove and rounding Sharp Point we entered Sydney Channel between Openit Peninsula and Floras Island. Our plan is to enter Shelter Inlet and follow the channel through the narrows between Hayden passage and Millar Passage. Millar Passage leads around the inland side of Floras Island into West Clayoquot Sound. We will then pass behind Vargas Island via Calmus and Maurus Channels. From there it is a short pull behind Stubbs Island in Heynen Channel to Deadman Pass and Tofino. This would be our last major inland passage and our last rapids transit.

Since we timed it to catch the slack tide at the narrows, our passage was mostly uneventful until we passed a peninsula on the south side of Floras Island. The air over this point of land was filled with Ravens. There were 30 or 40 birds flying in a large circling mass. They would pair off and fall tumbling around each other as they dropped. Their black wings gleamed as the sun reflected off of them. One second it was a large black bird and the next it shone like polished silver. A striking contrast. Not to mention the uniqueness of so many Ravens flying together. Again and again they would climb into the air, pair off, and plummet tumbling together toward the water. It was hard to leave the show behind.

Our approach to Tofino was some of the oddest piloting I have ever done. The currents in Clayoquot Sound are very unpredictable. It is a shoal water body and apparently the shifting sands and multiple interconnecting channels cause this unpredictability. It was evident all day but as we approached Tofino it got really pronounced. There are marked channels that lead across the shoals to Tofino. We also had the GPS highway to follow. I kept Lacuna right on the GPS line but to do so I was continually shifting the direction the boat was pointing. In fact the currents were so erratic that where Lacuna's bow was pointed had very little to do with where she was actually going. To move in a straight line over the bottom I steered in a different direction every couple of minutes. It was a real crab walk minuet. River sailing has long ago taught me about ferrying a boat to navigate a current, but the Columbia never was a erratic as those channels leading into Tofino.

The dock at Tofino was swept by these currents and it was as tricky an approach as any river might present. It was not easy but we finally got Lacuna tied up at one of the public docks. We then set off to buy dinner. Sitting in the restaurant Dennis looked out the window to see Joe the skipper of Aeolus waiting outside for a table. He went out and brought him in to our table. We caught up on what each other had seen along the way. Neither boat saw anything like northwest winds and helpful currents the guide books predicted. In fact we are beginning to think this story about roller coaster, down wind rides along the west coast of Vancouver Island is just a myth. Joe did get one day with a northwest wind but it ripped out his Genoa so he couldn't effectively sail it. We were all survivors on the downhill side of a big adventure and it was fun to catch up with him over dinner and a couple of brews.

8/30/00

Computer entry. Tofino Public Dock So we arrived yesterday around 1900 after a day of motoring mostly against currents of various strength and direction. Today we bought supplies and strolled around town being tourists. The guidebook warned about CULTURAL SHOCK when you arrived in Tofino and we were not disappointed. Streets are thick with tourists. There are art galleries everywhere and there are way more restaurants than we will ever be able to eat our way through.

8/31/00

Computer entry. Tofino Public Dock. It is 1400 hours and the sun is shining. The wind is howling and Lacuna is being pounded against the weather side of the dock. Dennis is tying another fender to the dock to further cushion the blows as the chop washes against our beam. Earlier I wanted to move but Dennis thought we would do more damage in the attempt. This is not a good moorage at this time. There is a fishing boat on the other side of the dock we could raft up behind. But at this point I have to agree we could do some real damage attempting to move the boat now. So we sit.

We decided to not run for Ucluelet today because the forcasted conditions sounded bad. What was worse the local buoy, lighthouse and automated reporting stations agreed with the forecast. The wind was strong from the northwest and the seas are reported to be 3 meters. We have to round Amphitrite Point which is exposed. There are also inlets at each end of this voyage that we must navigate and the latter was reputed to be a “White Knuckle” approach in seas like those forecast for today. At the moment the rigging is moaning loudly and we are in the harbor 5 miles form the open ocean!!! Lacuna's pounding assures us our decision not to make passage today was sound. That is if Lacuna survives this pounding

It is another day waylaid by weather. The advantage is that it is not raining, it is only the first day, and we are tied up at Tofino not Winter Harbor. The bad news is that it is costing us a day of sailing that fabled northwest wind on a sunny day that we have been wishing for. The good news is that I called work to check on my return date and I don't need to be home by the 14th of September as I thought. In fact I don't have to go back to work until the 24th. This was the result of a miscommunication about how long I was approved to be on vacation. I didn't push the point since I had no pressing reason to rush home. Kathryn is not going to be there because she is going to New York City. Then, just to sweeten the pie, I got approval to get time off in October to clean out Kathryn's dad's house! This will help her finish business after her Dad's death. The real good news is that after Dennis consulted his calendar our available sailing days grew by 3!!! So as weather days go... it's not bad. Hell, from where I see things I might just go into town and buy a lottery ticket.

1530 Computer entry. Same place same station. The bad news is that the winds have now built to the point that there are fair sized rollers washing against the side of the boat. Lacuna responds by pitching over on her side and slamming up against the dock. So maybe the lotto ticket will have to wait. I've been outside watching the fenders. Both of us have taken to frequently climbing out of the pitching cockpit and up onto the slightly less pitching dock to check the riding gear. All our fenders are tied to the rail or the dock. A wave train came through a little while ago that rolled Lacuna violently, pitching charts and gear tumbling on to the floor. But the worst of it was that this rolling slammed the dock with the edge of Lacuna's gunnel. We have reconfigured the fenders and she is riding better now. There are large whitecaps out in the channel. Fortunately these lose some of their punch before they approach the dock. So I think that I have had enough already with the good news bad news routine.

There is a float plane that does business from our dock. I helped the guy dock his plane today and got a chance to talk with him as we both watched our moored craft bashing against the dock. He talked about how difficult it is to land in this kind of chop. There is a delicate throttle balance required to keep the plane from pitch poling. The idea is to skim the wave tops and let them slow you down before you back off the engine. After watching the waves grow for an hour he finally decided to call it a day and fly his plane back to his home. He said there was rarely much chop on the inlet near his house and he could moor the plane in sheltered water. Dennis and I helped hold his plane steady next to the dock while he fired up the engine and prepaid to take off. Once his rpms were high enough to over come the wind he pulled away. As the plane skipped away from the chop and into the air I envied his quick get away and quiet moorage.

2030 Computer entry. First the tide dropped, then the waves dropped, then the wind dropped. Now there are heavy clouds piling up against the mountains to the east where Dennis just saw some lightning. I think the weather guy was correct, we are in for a change of weather. All day we waited for the wind to drop and it finally did, maybe tomorrow we will be able to make the passage around Amphitrite point into Barkley Sound. There is still a lot of clear sky to the west and north and it looks as if it could be a pretty good sunset.

A bit ago Dennis was up at the phone booth at the head of the dock. While he was talking on the phone he noticed that our anchor was gone from its bow mount. The lashing that holds the shank to the pulpit was still in place, but the anchor had been lifted completely out its previously secure bracket. We have sailed in some violent seas and never had that happen. I guess the waves set the bow pitching so badly that the anchor decided to jump ship to escape the agitation. It now lies on the bottom just out of reach of the boat hook. It is also getting to dark too see the bottom well. The plan is to try again tomorrow morning when the tide is lower. If not then I get to go snorkeling tomorrow. What a day! I have had enough already with the good news/ bad news.

We just returned from dinner in a theme restaurant. The establishment was called the schooner. They carried the ship theme setting to some great lengths. There was a large transom like structure protruding out of the rear of the building. On the inside they had build the bow of the boat to house the kitchen and it protruded into the dining area dividing the room into 2 sections. The bow was quite ornately constructed including a large sprit. This long sprit in turn spanned the dining room and stuck through the exterior wall on the opposing side. It even looks as if they used old wooden ship parts to work some of the finishing touches. Hell the bow was even clad in riveted copper. Did I mention that this place is a ZOO?

  9/1/00

0915. Log entry. We left the public dock at Tofino. Out stay protracted by reprovisioning and unfavorable weather. Tofino is the Campbell River Vancouver's west coast. Many young people and a thriving tourist economy. Today we make our push for Sound. It is about a 25 mile passage that will get us to Ucluelet Bay. The sky is overcast and it rained hard this morning. The forecast is for light to moderate variable southwest winds.

Our stay in Tofino was mostly enjoyable. Good food and REAL BEER. But our stay at the public dock had its down side yesterday afternoon when there was a 20 knot wind from the northwest. As high tide crested, the wind drove large waves against Lacuna's starboard beam. This in turn slammed Lacuna against the float dock. All the while the seas are driving Lacuna like a berserk rocking horse. We tied every fender on board to the dock or to Lacuna. The seas built until the tide dropped and a sandbar across the channel dried out. This then worked like a breakwater and stopped the seas.

Tofino is the polar opposite of Winter Harbor. It is young, alive, and prosperous. It had the feel of Hood River to it. It is a beautiful place with jagged mountains to the east and the ocean to the west. It was by any definition a big vista.

1500 Log entry. We have tied up in a marina in Ucluelet. The first part of the voyage was a pounding business which led us to the discovery that all our chain plates are leaking after yesterdays pounding at the dock. I guess the thrashing about caused the standing rigging to pry open all the seals. In today's seas there was a steady stream of water from the bow and port chain plates. Fortunately the wind dropped and the seas subsided before we got to Amphitrite Point, which is the entry into this port. Ucluelet would be interesting place in real big seas. The approach ran quite near many rocks and reefs. It was a dramatic approach. Even with reduced seas there was a bit of white water around us.

9/2/00

1424 Log entry. We pulled away from the Ucluelet Dock at 1338 after putting the folbot together, emptying the trash, filling the water, and a few other chores. Yesterday we hiked out to the west side of Ucluelet Peninsula to a midden beach and an intertidal zone of very jagged rock. The sea was almost flat calm and not a breath of wind reached us. We also toured the Canadian Princess, and ex-hydrographic ship 228 feet long, now permanently moored and converted into a hotel.

Fishing is a big deal here. There were lots of draggers (bottom trawlers), trollers, and gill netters in the basin and at other docks in town, with several fish packers along the shore. The Canadian Princess was accompanied by a fleet of nine or more mini “Princesses” - charter fishing boats, probably 50 or 60 feet long - Eagle princess, Pachena Princess, Long Beach Princess, and so forth.

We charged our batteries from shore power. The day is calm, sunny, with some rain this morning .DT

1601 After a smooth but eventful passage, we're anchored between Wouwer Island and Batley Island. We passed a gray whale just a quarter mile or less from our port beam and are now surrounded by the din of hundreds of sea lions - they're on all sides and in the water. On the rocks on all sides of us are sea lions . They are rolling and playing in the water, floating on their backs and lazily waving a pectoral flipper in the air, splashing and diving. DT

1911 Log entry. We're anchored in Effingham Bay. The noise of the sea lions, and the number of tour boats, kayaks and other boats through the anchorage at Wouwer Island convinced us to seek a quieter spot. DT

Computer entry. We are now on the hook in Effingham Bay. Today was the first of our 5 or 6 days here in Barkley sound. If today is any indication of upcoming days it is going to be an amazing week!!! We left Ucluelet around 1100 today after a causal morning and set out into Barkley Sound. This is a very large body of water that is filled with islands, islets, rocks and reefs. Today was an exceptionally calm day and we cruised along without all the work and effort it takes to keep Lacuna on a steady course in a jostled sea. We motored out past many rocks that in bigger weather would have been covered in white water and foam. In the bright sunlight that bathed this afternoon they just passed by without so much as a hint of adrenaline.

Our course took us to an anchorage among the outer islands of the Broken Group. Most of these islands are part of the Pacific Rim National Park. There are so many small islands. As we motored I spotted a large boat with a lot of people standing out on its decks. Then I saw a spout of a whale. Then Dennis and I both saw a large flat fluke break the surface. It ended up swimming right by us not more than 70 yards off the port beam. It was a Gray Whale for sure. First its head would break the surface and spout air and water. As the head then slipped under the surface the midsection of the whales back would then rise up out of the water. Finally the large flukes were raised into the air to begin another surface dive. Holy Moby Toddman!!!

We arrived at the entry channel for our intended anchorage I throttled down the cast iron main sail and made cautious approach as there were rocks everywhere. That is when I heard the sound of a bellowing Sea Lion. As Lacuna nosed into the rocky channel we passed very close to a large Sea Lion on the rocks. That is when the real show began.

The sound of calling Sea Lions grew louder and louder until it overwhelmed the sound of our idling Honda. It was almost deafening. We entered a cove that was open on 3 sides and dropped the hook. It was hard to tell the difference when we shut off the motor because there was a much louder sound to deal with. There must have been several hundred Sea Lions in and around that small body of water. Where ever you looked, the rocks on the shore were covered with them. The water it self was full of them. Some swam right by the boat looking us over carefully.

On the shore all sorts of activity could be seen as this herd of Sea Lions carried on. Some could be seen challenging each other. They would wallow up to each other and posture with their heads held exactly upright and bark. This could then escalate to real blows. I watched one lion throw a punch with his head against an opponent who was biting at his neck. The first lion's head swung back and then slammed into the opponent, who's head was visibly knocked backwards by the blow.

Then I heard a distinct, low tone rumbling below the rest of the cacophony. I searched the shoreline to determine the source of that low rumble. There were 3 very large bulls atop a nearby rock. The smallest of these almost white beasts was holding the head elevated posture I had seen other lions do. This was provoking the larger lion next to him, who was source of the low rumble. I could see his mouth open and then the roar would carry across the water. He rumbled at the smaller lion for some while. When this didn't stop the offending behavior the larger lion turned his tail toward his opponent and smacked him in the chest. This did produce a change in the smaller lion's behavior and he put his head down on the rock and laid submissively next to the larger beast. Soon the low roar subsided and they both laid quietly in the sun.

There were also lions in the water. Some were swimming, some were floating on their backs and sides with their flippers held completely out of the water. These flippers have a very distinct feather - like appearance. In fact, Dennis said that their scientific name is Pinniped, which means feathered footed in Latin. Groups of lions floating like this together. There were all these flippers sticking out of the water at odd angles. At times the flippers looked like raven's wings, or modern art. It was amazing. Through the binoculars I watched one such group. Amid the upheld flippers the occasional light colored belly fur would emerge. Then as the belly submerged there came a pointed snout out of the water to draw in air, it's whiskers glistening in the sun. The lions would lie on their backs in the water like that for long periods of time, sort of a Sea Lion Lazyboy.

Yearlings were playing out in the cove. Their enthusiasm and agility provided a stark contrast to the vast herds slumbering on the nearby rocks. I watched one jumping completely out of the water into the air. His body would break the surface heading skyward and then arc back into the water. Pairs of young lions could be seen swirling around each other as they chased through the air and water. It was Sea Lion heaven.

It was also obvious that there was no way we were going to experience anything remotely approximating sleep in this boisterous anchorage. It was too loud to have a clear conversation. Dennis and I had to yell to communicate with each other. There was also a steady stream of boats that came through the cove from all three entrances. The cove was also rather exposed and there were clouds building to the east. After making a couple of cell phone calls home to bait friends with the unique nature of this anchorage, we decided to move on. Out stay lasted about an hour and a half. I suspect that if OSHA had been consulted we would have been required to wear ear protection. Just short of the level of a loud rock and roll show. Hell, I might even wake up tomorrow with my ears ringing.

As we motored out of the cove a lion came out to look us over. He swam directly at the boat and raised his head well above the water to look us over. He ended passing only a few feet from Lacuna's stern. I have been that close in the folbot before and I must admit it felt a lot less intimidating from a bigger boat. Even so I felt better when he finally had enough and dove head first into the water and vanished. What a show.

It took us about 30 minutes to motor to Effingham Bay where we enjoyed a magnificent sunset over dinner. Like I said before, if this is what things are going to be like in Barkley Sound, it is going to be an amazing week.

9/3/00

1310 Log entry. Pulled anchor and motored out of Effingham Bay. Had a wondrous sunset last night. This morning we hiked across the island to an old village site. There was also a sea cave near by. Not much to show of the old village. There was some iron and steel scrap but no totem poles or lodge posts. Today we are heading a short distance to Pipestem Inlet.

1536. Log entry. Arrived at Refuge Island and set the hook. Plan to sea kayak back into Lucky Creek Lagoon

1736 Log entry. We kayaked up to the Lucky Creek waterfalls at the head of a lagoon the north shore of our anchorage. The creek cascaded over a series of falls , the last one being 10 or 12 feet into the lagoon. Gorgeous - and we had it all to ourselves. DT

Computer entry. Refuge Island, Pipestem Inlet. We are once again on the hook, this time at the mouth of Pipestem Inlet. We are surrounded by little islands which provide good protection in most directions. The forecast is for light wind and I expect a good sleep tonight.

Because we took a hike Lacuna didn't leave Effingham Bay until afternoon. Even though the trail was boggy in places it felt great to walk again. We hiked over the far side of Effingham Island to an abandoned native village site. There was little to speak of the abandoned settlement except for some steel and iron scraps. The place itself did look like an ideal place to locate a village There was a large shell midden on the beach. A sand beach would have made a great place to land canoes. It had a splendid view of the Barkley Sound area including some jagged peaks with snow on their flanks. It now looks as if it is used as a kayak camp or possibly the local natives return there to camp with the season.

We also scrambled over the rocks to a nearby sea cave. It was not as deep as the cruising guide led us to expect but it was a interesting. There were bright green ferns growing down from the roof of the cave mouth. They didn't go too far back into the cave however. The part I could get to was about 100 feet deep. From there it did go on but only if you were willing to crawl through a narrow opening. I was not willing since I could see there was a smaller opening not much further in. I did not need the flashlight the cruising guide suggested.

It is great having the Folbot back again. We can get to shore to look around. We are no longer confined to the 23 feet of Lacuna's decks any more. We will keep the Folbot put together until we go to the docks at Bamfield. It is much easier to do the assembly and dismantling on a dock than onboard Lacuna. We did manage an onboard assembly back in Desolation Sound but it was a long complicated process that ran over an hour long. Not to be repeated unless there was no other choice in the matter.

It was a quick passage from Effingham once I got through the navigation. I must admit I don't like programming the course into the GPS. It takes undivided attention to the most detailed minutia. Numbers numbers, numbers, it's Numbing. Oh well, better that than racked up on some reef.

We are here so we can check out pipestem inlet in the morning. Pipestem Inlet is a long fjord, the last we will see on this voyage. The guidebooks spoke of it as being scenic and having several waterfalls. We have spent much of the last 6 weeks inside fjord channels. Even on the west coast we spent a good deal of our time in these Ice Age remnants. If not in passage, then as refuge from the furry of the Pacific.

When we arrived here this afternoon we paddled up Luck Creek Lagoon.

The guide book said to go 1 hour before the high tide. We managed to get here just in time to do so. It was a short 15 minute paddle up the meandering lagoon to the waterfall at it's head. A great falls tumbled all around a large, protruding rock cliff. The cliff undoubtedly spends much of the spring as a part of the waterfall proper, but this late in the season it was only surrounded by falling water. On the river left side of the cliff there was a 12 foot falls. These jumped off in one large plunge. On the river right side of the cliff there were a series of short cataracts that stair stepped the water down to a final falls a couple of feet high.

Paddling up to the base of the cliff we climbed up onto the water polished black rock. We hauled the folbot up onto the rocks and then tied the painter up the cliff to a protruding rock horn. Then Dennis and I climbed up the cliff. Just beyond the top of the cliff was a large, deep pool. It was out of this pool that the two falls originated. Looking up the channel we could see other falls and plunge pools above. The next big falls looked to be 15 feet of more in height. There was a large vein of water polished quartz on the otherwise dark streambed. White stone with dark gray veins running all through it. I wanted to just keep climbing up the stream to see what was beyond the next waterfall. It was an interesting place.

The cruising guide suggested that these pools were great places to bathe. However I believe that it must have been a hot sunny afternoon when they visited the place. The water was cold, but I was not going to miss a chance to bathe. I little by little got adjusted to the cold and finally did end up in to my chest. Climbing out on to the rocky ledge above the cliff the air was charged with the sound of falling water. Tumbling, churning, foaming, laughing, free falling water. It was beautiful.

We paddled back out to Lacuna and had dinner. I went out paddling after the meal and got to watch a wonderful sunset as ketch came into the cove to anchor next to Lacuna. I made slow strokes in quiet water. Reflections of purple and crimson sky rippled over the water around me. Life's a bitch.

Dances with Duffel, chapter 6

log entries
photo gallery
itinerary

Ed's Van Isle 2000

the boat
library

e-mail lacuna