We cleared into Canada at Oak Bay marina and took the opportunity to top up with fuel and water. Later we motored around to Cadboro Bay and dropped our anchor in good holding?! We were expecting a gale to blow through over the next two days and the books told us we would be safe in the bay. The following day the wind slowly increased and the water became choppy, despite this Stephen decided to go crabbing!
We stayed on board throughout the gusty day and the anchor held fast. We had been declined entry at the nearby Royal Victoria Yacht Club, earlier in the day, as we weren’t a member of a reciprocal yacht club. Later that evening as we were ashore having supper with friends, our anchor dragged and the pair of us, quietly and calmly lifted the anchor in gusts of 40kts. cutting free the crab-line which had wrapped itself around the anchor chain and we motored into the marina. Gracefully the club allowed us to tie up to their visitors pontoon. Many people approached us the next day to see that we were okay and pleased that Amelie was safe.
The west coast has a colourful reputation with challenges along the way. The weather is a common topic of conversation with most locals. The west coast experiences frequent and fast moving low pressure fronts; strong and unpredictable currents, narrows and rapids; rough seas; steep sided mountainous inlets with shallow entrance bars and fog. With caution, daily weather information and careful navigation we embarked on a trip of a lifetime.
To continue the story….the gale abated and we were left with little wind so we motored to Sooke Harbour at the beginning of the infamous Juan de Fuca strait. The entrance to Sooke was tricky but we were soon snuggled to the north of Whiffin Spit. There is a famous boardwalk here, which we managed to miss but had a beautiful walk through the wooded park…..bear country. The small town offered us lunch and some supplies but overall we weren’t that impressed.
An early start to Bamfield in the Barkley Sound was next on the agenda, covering the Juan de Fuca Strait in record time…..the favourable current helped enormously, together with a sunny day.
This strait has a fearsome habit of throwing up nasty seas and strong winds but for the second time in a year, it was kind to us. The Huu-Ay-Aht Nation people have been in Barkley Sound and it’s lands for thousands of years, according to archeological discoveries. Fishing and hunting continues to sustain this community. Captain James Cook discovered the sound in 1779, believing it to be the Juan de Fuca Strait but it was an American, Captain Charles Barkley (explorer-fur trader) who named it in 1786. It was also the western terminus of the trans-Pacific telegraph cable, connecting North America with Australia and the lands in-between, until it closed in 1959, now the Bamfield Marine Sciences Centre. The west coast trail terminates here with many backpackers looking for food, shelter and showers. Bamfield village lies both on the east and west side of the inlet, with a gravel logging road access to Port Alberni on the east side. The west side has a boardwalk which takes you through an enchanted forest grotto, decorated with painted wooden toadstools and fairies and as you come out into the sunlight, there is a little mermaid statue on the shore.
Bamfield gets it supplies from Port Alberni via two ships, Lady Rose and the Francis Barkley. We noticed a flurry of dockside activity as the latter announced its arrival mid-morning. On the west side the Coastguard station and helicopter pad is located, with regular exercises in the huge orange RIBS and the helicopter.
We anchored north of Burlo Island to the sound of grass strimmers and mowers, each boarding house getting ready for the start of their season.
The Bald Eagles were swooping low and whistling to one another. A huge Black Bear was sighted on the near shore, turning over boulders, snaffling up salty protein. We watched him for most of the morning, unperturbed by the noise of man but being heckled by the Ravens. Every now and then he would raise his massive head and the Ravens would hop back a few paces.We fell in love with the tranquility of this place and because it was so early in the season we had it to ourselves. We looked down the inlet into Barkley Sound and watched the fog roll up the channel while we had blue skies and sun.
The Deer and Broken Islands in the Sound are a kayaker’s paradise which we took full advantage of, anchoring in a protected bay off Effingham Island. The cheeky Ravens continued to hassle, this time the Bald Eagles. We were disappointed by the lack of variety in wildlife here and after a mammoth kayak trip, viewing gnarled old trees on monolithic sea stacks, we retrieved our crab-trap, up-anchored and had a blowy trip across the Sound to Spring Cove, close to the village of Ucluelet (translated as “safe harbour landing” in Nuu-chah-nulth language). Spring Cove historically is where the fishing boats used to discharge their daily catch. Ruins of buildings on the shore and rotting wooden piles erupting out of the water, illustrated a past busy fishing port. Early pioneering families used their bare hands to clear trees to build their homesteads here. They started canneries but it wasn’t until after the first world war, that fishing boomed with the introduction of modern trolling methods by the Japanese. This unusual area has a thriving community. It has a large fishing fleet, the commercial hub of Barkley Sound, fish processing plants and excellent provisioning opportunities. We were welcomed by a toothless First Nations lady called Theresa, who loved our RIB and chatted away as if she had known us for years. As we left the dock, laden with our shopping, a group of youngsters frantically waved and wished us well. A busy village but with time to welcome strangers and pass the time of day.
The weather report suggested we would have a great sail to Clayoquot Sound……we motored most of the way although the coastal scenery was staggering. Along this coast at this time of year, it is rare to see another sailing vessel, just small aluminium sport fishing boats or trawlers. The trawlers are majestic with their booms reaching out sweeping up catch. Before our camera (third one) died, we managed to get some shots of these in action. Vigilance is hugely important for spotting tree trunks in our path and detouring around them, this is the main reason most cruisers don’t sail at night or otherwise, go miles off shore.
Wildlife viewings and encounters still quickens the heart and Stephen spotted a raft of sea otters, leisurely drifting on their backs without a care in the world. Their reaction to us was comical, beady stares and then ignored us completely.
There are not enough adjectives to describe the beauty of the west coast. Breathtaking views as we entered the Sound, passing through inlets, passages, avoiding the hundreds of crab traps and eventually anchoring in Adventure Cove. Five floating homes sit in this tiny anchorage with smoke billowing out of several chimney stacks. This snug refuge is the historical site of Fort Defiance, built by an American, Captain Gray. Before leaving the area in the newly built sloop “Adventure” and completing his fur trade with the Tla-o-qui-aht people, he had the First Nation village of Opitstaht destroyed as he was concerned about an attack which didn’t materialise. This was a winter camp for the native people for 5,000 years but despite this destruction, the community thrives. We attempted to visit the site of Fort Defiance in the rain but the forest had reclaimed this archeological site and very quickly we were surrounded by dense towering trees that acted as a canopy. We were armed with Bear spray, a whistle and there was plenty of thick branches around to fend off Cougars. The only creature we encountered were mosquitoes.
Clayoquot Sound has been the subject of environmental action to stop removing timber down to the high tide line and halting destruction of old growth forests. This has been successful with two clans coming together to preserve the ancient forests. Fish farms are a common feature in this sound, harvesting salmon much like battery hens. As they are in close proximity to one another, mites are an issue but are controlled by chemicals which in turn affect the local habitat and the other creatures that live there.
Our next anchorage was Windy Bay via Browning Passage. Its name is apt but the solitary beauty of this bay is exquisite……nothing manmade in sight. Old Cedar trees cascade down to the tideline on one side of the bay with a granite wall looming on the other side, forming into Sea Peak (1,365 feet). The vista out of the bay gave glimpses of shark-toothed shaped peaks, capped with snow, in the distance. Whilst here, we decided to take “M” out for an 18 mile spin to Bedwell Sound, a fjord with views of snowy peaks and gullies to the east and north. This area has been raped of it’s trees, the landscape scarred by old logging roads. We were astonished to find dwellings and cars at the head of the Sound, which appears to be cut off from civilisation.
Fuelled with bacon sandwiches and freshly brewed coffee, we traversed narrows, straits and small islands until we reached the west of Clayoquot Sound…..West Whitepine Cove. Debbie was on the bow rock spotting whilst Stephen guided Amelie through the shallows into a wondrous cove. As the tide dropped, more rocks exposed themselves and the Eel grass wafted on the surface of the water. The books told us this is bear country and we were not disappointed. A huge male Black bear snaffled juicy grass shoots on the southern shore, meandering through shoulder high grass. Every now and then he would raise his enormous head, sniff the air and then go back to eating. The following day we spent ages watching him, sometimes turfing over rocks for food. Along the eastern shore a smaller, cinnamon coloured female bear was doing something similar. She was a little more nervous and cantered off into the woods when Stephen took the RIB closer to get photographs. She watched him from the safety of the forest. Later she came out, eating voraciously and then sneezed loudly, echoing around the cove. Eagles were fishing with seals gliding along slowly and Harlequin ducks chasing one another. Towards sunset, we heard wolves howling in the wooded area of the cove but no sign of them as yet. Stephen caught two 1 kg crabs in the trap and they fed us for several meals. Stephen enjoys being a hunter/gatherer, he also dresses the crab beautifully but it’s down to Debbie to clean the galley afterwards from floor to ceiling!
Hot Spring Cove in the Maquinna Provincial park was our next port of call. We watched the RIBs and floatplanes full of day tourists depart andthen we went ashore to visit the Ramsay Hot Springs. We walked for over a mile along a cedar boardwalk, carved with boat names, through a dense rainforest until we reached the rocky, natural hot pools, north of Sharp Point.
After experiencing the 50 degree C geothermal waterfall, we immersed ourselves in the tiered rock pools, sharing them with a group of fisherman/scientists from a research vessel, who kindly offered us a glass of Port to enhance our experience.
We spent the late evening with an American couple from S/Y Raven, swapping sailing and life stories.
Debbie was abruptly awoken the next morning by the sound of Amelie’s engine…..it was time to haul the anchor and get to Nookta Sound before the southerly gale swept in.
Nootka Sound is the birthplace of European influence (and ruin) in the north-west.
Santa Gertrudis Cove was strewn with timber debris and a respite from the gale raging out at sea, apart from that, we probably didn’t see the area in its best light. At the first opportunity we motor sailed 48nm to Dixie Cove in Kyuquot Sound. The rain lashed down, the skies darkened with fog rolling in, the hoarse moan of the Nootka foghorn resonated across the Pacific rollers with brief glimpses of the rugged shoreline. Fishing boats on the AIS were not visible to the naked eye. As the day developed the weather improved and the scenery changed to high, rugged mountains trailing down to the coast with vicious reefs giving us protection from the ocean. Sea Otters scattered when we got close only to pop up again once we had passed. We spent a peaceful night at anchor in the still waters of the cove.
We motored past Walter Cove, an Indian Reserve, protected from the Pacific by the Barrier Island Reefs. Everyone we had spoken to had recommended the Bunsby Islands and we were headed for Scow Bay, an anchorage right in their midst. It was here between 1969-1972, that the Sea Otter was reintroduced after their population neared extinction by the late 1920s. The Sea Otters play a part in maintaining a healthy shore ecology by their huge consumption of sea urchins. We were not disappointed by the Bunsby’s beauty but with the wind howling the prospect of exploring them by kayak held little appeal. In a marginal anchorage with the wind tugging at us we decided to up-anchor after only one hour and head for our next prospective place, Columbia Cove, which promised wildlife on the drying flats, according to the pilot book and from the charts appeared to be protection from the forecast of strong westerly and NW winds. We sighted a large Black Bear promenading the flats, an eagle swooping down and on his second attempt, snuck a fish in his talons and the crab trap yielded an adult palm sized Bat Star. This specimen was brown with a pale cream underside. They feed on seaweed, dead animals and sea urchins……obviously our crab bait too. We kayaked through the shallows in the three bays that were accessible from the anchorage. The middle bay hosted a fresh water stream that was draining from the 2,500 feet mountain range. Our adventure took us through shallows of Eel grass and beds of kelp, coming across sea caves, eroded cliff faces, jagged inlets with gnarled old trees and the spooky sound of howling wolves, echoing off the cliff faces.
We thought at first the strong winds and choppy waters in the anchorage were due to Williwaws but in fact they seemed to represent the prevailing wind which somehow the mountains failed to protect us from. The winds were so strong that our anchor snubber line snapped.
Weather information informed us that in a couple of days a 45kt. southerly gale was approaching so the plan was to race with the current to get to Port Hardy before the wind blew hard. The first day out was a long one but the weather, although threatening at times, was kind to us. We saw our first humpback whale off the west coast against yet another change of coastal scenery. This time it was manmade, the forests had been logged and the mountains appeared to have undergone a No. 2 haircut.
Cape Cook is the most NW point of Vancouver Island and has a fearsome reputation. We passed it at slack water, with “Adele” blaring from the cockpit speakers surrounded by thousands of seabirds and the odd lounging Sea Otter, uneventfully. The Cape is one of the prettiest we have rounded and it was a pleasure and relief for it to be so calm. We overnighted in Fisherman Bay and awaited slack water the next morning, over Nawhiti Bar, by doing our first salmon fishing of the season - trolling along at 3.5 kts. Sadly that ended with snagging the line and losing hook, line and sinker!
We arrived in Port Hardy thus completing a circumnavigation of Vancouver Island - it only took us 1 year and 1 day! We’re now here to see out the gale force winds and provision for our upcoming 6 week adventure exploring Haida Gwaii.