We picked what we thought was a good time to go, morning high slack at the Nawhitti Bar on a day with forecast of the typical moderate-to-strong northwesterly winds blowing, and this seemed validated by other vessels at and around Bull Harbour (our anchorage the previous evening) that came out around the same time and headed the same direction.
The winds didn't materialize as we motored down the stretch from Bull Harbour to the Cape itself, which was calm, with moderate swells from the west. Once the wind did appear, it was more southwest than northwest, and by the time we got nearly to the Cape and decided to kill the engine and raise sail, it was south/southeast, where it stayed for the remainder of the day. The seas were confused, but relatively low. Mandy had a long and tiring shift and when I came up the relieve her we decided that the unheralded wind change, and a prediction of thunderstorms later, militated for a stop a little earlier than we were hoping... Sea Otter Cove instead of Winter Harbour further south. Sea Otter Cove is in many ways still part of the Cape proper and so we didn't consider ourselves completely in the clear, but it was the only good shelter for a good many miles in either direction.
It seemed that everyone else had the same idea, as all four available mooring buoys there were occupied when we pulled in. Getting into the Cove is slightly nerve wracking, with shallow depths from the entrance on in and many, many rocks. We managed it okay but if the waves were any higher it would have been no picnic. The Cove is not well-sheltered from the south but the entrance at least is at right angles to the sea, so swells don't come in. We anchored outboard of the buoy line and tucked in for the night, preparing to leave mid-morning the next day. As I turned the anchor light on before bed, I could see evidence of the thunderstorms; dim flashes in the clouds to the north silhouetting the masts of the boats behind us.The cruddy weather continued, however, and the forecast predicted fog and southwest/southeast winds through the next day until they switched back to northwest in the early afternoon. Afternoon was a bit late for us to leave to make the next port of call, though, so we decided to wait the whole day and try on the follow morning, when they were forecast to continue (and some of the fog predicted to dissipate).
Mandy came down with a bit of a cold so it was just as well that we had time to hole up and let her rest. Fleeing the crud outside, two more boats came in through the day, and only one departed in the afternoon to take advantage of the improving conditions. Later in the day, more thunderstorms came through, though we saw no lightning.
We also used the time to get our diesel stove metering valve replaced. After some trial and error Mandy thinks she got everything working properly and in honor of the occasion shined the whole thing up very nicely. We won't have a chance to test it until the weather goes bad on us, though... no sense heating the cabin up more than it already is.
The next day had a strong forecast in our favor, and with that in mind we got up early and got underway, as did most boats in the cove... no one missing an opportunity. Once we got clear of the frightening entrance (again negotiated at near-low tide) we raised sail and had the sort of day we had been hoping for two days earlier... clear skies, sunshine, great downwind sailing in moderate conditions. We reached Quatsino Sound in about four hours.
To say that it isn't what we expected may be a bit of an understatement. There are more small craft out here fishing than we saw in any one place coming up the inside. There are a fair number of cruising boats; we have anchored early in North Sound, just south of Winter Harbour, and there are three in sight already, not counting the big powercruiser moored off a “party barge” occupying the southern part of the harbour. There is a constant background buzz in the air, and the yells of excited teenagers carry across the water from the float house. Clearcuts decorate the hills around us. This isn't the remote wilderness that any of the guide books have described, even the more recent.
Part of this may be that we are here on BC Day weekend, which (we assume) is like any three-day summer holiday weekend, with more people out on the water than usual. But the cruising boats don't fit into that category; like us, they have to be out a month or more just to get here, so clearly there is a lot more interest in the northwest coast of the Island than there has been in the past, or that anyone writing about it noticed.
This doesn't really bother me at all; it's still beautiful up here, I just have this nagging sense that I should be able to check my e-mail if I am not really “away from it all” but in most other respects I enjoy it. It's no different than when I was younger, on Lake Couer d'Alene or Lake Roosevelt, and the background boat traffic just makes me want to lay in the sun and read until I am hot enough to get in the water (not there yet!). It grates on Mandy, however, just like a similar scene did at Spencer Spit last year. I think she wants to be someplace calm and quiet, where she can get the sense she is exploring, and it's hard to feel that way when there are drunk fishermen and bogie boarding fratboys in every picturesque cove you sail past. I don't know what to tell her... it probably won't be quite so busy down-coast, where the inlets don't lead back almost to the east coast of the island (which is no doubt how most of these smaller craft get here). Perhaps we won't spend as long up here as we had planned, in favor of quieter precincts further south. But still, the preponderance of big cruising boats (and we are one of the smaller craft here in that category) makes me think we're likely to have company just about anywhere we might be.
She wants to make friends though, so perhaps that is a good way to look at it. Certainly we are intruding on the solitude of others as much as the reverse might be true... if we are all in it together, then, maybe we should make the most of it.
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