Sail Chandelle

May 16 – 20, 2023

The first time I heard of Princess Louisa Inlet was last summer listening to the book “The Curve of Time” by M. Wylie Blanchet – a captivating book that has long been quintessential reading for boaters cruising the inside passage.  Traveling in their 25 foot boat, the Caprice, Blanchet along with her 5 children and sometimes their dog, explored the inland coast of British Columbia and Vancouver Island for 12 summers in the 1920s & 30s.  The author, affectionately known as “Capi,” effortlessly describes Princess Louisa Inlet, a private paradise hidden near the end of Jervis Inlet, which even Vancouver and his crew missed in their surveys of this area, thinking it was simply a river outflow.  The soaring rock faces, pine tree lined mountains dropping straight into the deep, and massive waterfalls, were often their own to explore and enjoy for days or weeks each summer. 

I would find in the coming months, scouring the cruising guides in preparation for our trip and in talking with others who’ve traveled these waters for many years, that Princess Louisa would continue to come up and draw me in.  It takes planning and commitment to make it to this tucked away oasis, buried over 30 miles up Jervis Inlet, and past a set of potentially dangerous rapids.  Especially in a sailboat whose average cruising speed is only about 5 knots in decent conditions.  Once we figured out a few days in mid May when the high water slack at the Malibu Rapids would be in the afternoon giving us plenty of daylight to get there – we tried to figure out based on the weather what the conditions might be in Jervis Inlet.  We picked a day the conditions seemed most favorable, and then planned an extra 2 hours for our travels, just in case the forecast had something else in store.  We’d learned from “The Curve of Time,” and other first hand accounts, that Jervis Inlet can dish up heavy outflow winds and even treacherous katabatic winds and has little to offer for shelter. 

As we made and talked about our plans for Princess Louisa, we inadvertently drew Alex’s parents in with the lore of the place’s beauty, and they decided to join us for the trip on their boat, Blue Dog.  They met us in Pender Harbor, 2 days prior to our departure, on their Highstar 48 motor yacht, along with their two pups, Duke and Salsa.  Sitting on their back deck, having dinner that evening, we chatted about the group of 5 or 6 newer small tug-like power boats with red, grey or navy blue painted hulls that had all arrived in the anchorage that day.  We speculated whether they might all be staging for Princess Louisa together as well and lamented that with the sudden turn to beautiful weather we were unlikely to experience any solitude there like we’d hoped by going early in the season.  Still, we crossed our fingers they were headed to Desolation Sound when they all left the next day.  

We entered Jervis Inlet from Agamemnon Channel, two and half hours and 13 miles from where we pulled our anchor that morning, and thus began the trek into the Coast Range mountains.  Up to one and half miles wide and lined on each side with five to eight thousand foot high mountains that plunge to depths of 2000 feet, Jervis Inlet is a formidable and breathtaking passage.  Each mile traversed into the glacier carved fjord leads to a new view as the layers of mountains transform, each cleft uncovering new peaks from where they hid behind the foreground.  Craggy abrupt peaks appear behind tree covered mountain sides next to sheer granitic rock faces and melting snow packs lead down to waterfalls of all sizes at all different elevations.  Several reaches turn you through the range revealing new jaw dropping magnificence around each bend. Thankfully our predictions were accurate and we had a bit of inflow wind allowing us to sail part way up Prince of Wales Reach and Princess Royal Reach.  The winds slowed as we approached the last turn and we motored slowly into Queens Reach as we were going to arrive over two hours early for slack at the rapids.  

Coasting with the engine off just outside the entrance at Malibu Rapids, waiting for the current to slow, it was easy to wonder how Princess Louisa could possibly be any more spectacular than what we were seeing in Jervis Inlet.  In truth I don’t believe it is but it does have a different feeling of grandness once you’re inside.  While waiting I zoomed out on our chart plotter and noticed six AIS triangles moving up Princess Royal Reach.  As this group rounded the turn into Queens Reach there were seven boats total, a mix of sail and motor vessels.  One of the sail boats was well ahead in the group, and not wanting to try the rapids too early, we continued to wait outside to see if we could watch this sailboat go through.  They approached the rapids slowly and then eventually went through – I watched them with the binoculars while Alex tracked their speed on the AIS.  They seemed to have no issues and we could easily make the same speed if needed at full throttle, so we started up the engine to get in ahead of the rest of the pack.  It was about 40 minutes before slack when we went through, the current still flowing in at about 1.5 knots but with no over falls or major turbulence.  Upon being pushed through the narrow dog legged entry we were immediately rewarded with the plunging walls of rock, trees, and waterfalls closing in on us from thousands of feet above.

I am far from the first writer to pronounce that Princess Louisa Inlet is indescribable and then proceed in a feeble attempt to use words to describe it to you.  My initial reaction was one of awe and disbelief – we’d worked and planned so long and hard to get here and it was so immediately impressive – I felt quite emotional and choked up for a few minutes trying to take it all in.  Snapping photos on my phone and my camera – which in no way do any justice to the experience – we passed waterfall after waterfall, each hidden away in the trees, until you were right next to them.  A craggy mountain peak which was visible from outside the rapids now loomed directly overhead on our port side as we passed by.  Sheer ice cut rock cliffs appeared on each side and ahead with even more waterfalls strewn about their walls as we made our way, almost four miles, to the head of the inlet.  

Coming towards the eastern edge of the inlet it makes a sharp turn north after which the giant, 1,800 foot, raging Chatterbox Falls comes into view.  Your senses are overwhelmed with the roar of the falls, the sky scraping rock walls disappearing into the depths, and the intense smell of forested land being pummeled by falling water and mist.  Blue Dog had entered through the rapids directly ahead of us and seeing that the park dock was already full they grabbed the last available mooring ball on the east edge and we rafted there next to them.  The group of blue, red or grey colored hull power boats had indeed made their way up the day before and were occupying a portion of the docks and a couple of the mooring balls.  A group of C-dory boats were also having a rendezvous on the dock and we later learned the seven boats trailing us up Jervis had traveled all together out of Bellingham.  Though a little more tranquility certainly could have added to the magic – sharing it with a few dozen boats would in no way deter us from enjoying every single moment in this extraordinary sanctuary.

Once we were settled on our mooring, I stood on the foredeck to take in our new surroundings.  A river of water cascading down the cliffs or tumbling over huge boulders can be seen in almost any direction and the sound of the rushing flow, especially the constant roar of aptly named Chatterbox falls, easily drowned out most other noise.  Well protected by the towering cliffs, the water is calm with just a few tiny ripples from all the water flowing through.  The inky crystal surface, reflecting the blue and green of the sky and pines, the silver white tendrils of the waterfalls, and the grey – black of the walls of rock. 

Our first morning we noticed there were loads of seals swimming around and playing near the various falls.  We figured this is likely a seals paradise being in the typically calm waters and quite unlikely to encounter their biggest predator, the killer whale this far off the main channels.   I tossed my paddle board in to go exploring.  Heading towards the cliff wall of waterfalls I looked down and saw dozens of jellyfish in the water.  The majority of them looked like the white moon jellies, a couple were yellow and quite large and a few were smaller lion’s mane jellies which are darker yellow and red/orange with a distinctive 8 sided star shape.  As I then made my way towards the Chatterbox falls to see what kind of current it was putting out – a couple in their dinghy stopped to point something out to me.  The roar of the falls was so loud I couldn’t hear a word they were saying and had to get quite close to chat with them.  They were floating along the tide line where the freshwater current was pouring into the saltwater and stated they were seeing a large variety of jellyfish there in particular.  I thanked them for the tip and angled my board into the stream and paddled closer to the falls to get a look.  I spent a while paddling into the current enjoying the roar of the water and watching jellies of all kinds float by, then I let myself get pushed back out and just about where the current stopped pushing me I was suddenly surrounded by millions of the small white moon jellies all packed into one area, then just as suddenly I was back to where they were more spread out again.  

After a number of boats left the dock to catch that day’s slack tide, we took the chance to move our boats there and tied up on the west side.  We checked out the park loop trail leading to Chatterbox at various levels.  Up close the falls seem to create their own micro climate – the force of the massive flow of falling water creating wind and a thick mist that swirls and feels like you’re in a storm.  Depending on the direction of the wind the little trail could be just a little muddy or completely soaked with pooling water – which means you are soaked too if you try to get very close.  On a dinghy exploration of the inlet we found even more waterfalls hiding in the trees and even rushing out onto a small rocky beach tucked into one of the larger alcoves along the side behind MacDonald Island.  Marveling up at the multicolored layers of granitic rock soaring above, from the small boat close to shore, it’s easy to feel our smallness and insignificance in this wondrous place.  

Again we saw numerous seals playing at the outflow of the colossal falls. I’ve seen and heard seals splashing around in the water but this was the first time I ever saw them jump completely air born out of the water!  That night I stayed up late for a clear view of the stars once it got dark.  Sitting at 50º N in Princess Louisa in the middle of May, even with the high cliffs and remoteness, a hint of light remains on the high horizon til well after the sun has gone down.  Even still, the stars were amazingly bright just after 11pm.  The big dipper lay directly overhead and it almost felt as if my eyes weren’t seeing clearly as there were so many stars visible.  Alex’s parents, Jim and Beth had also spent time stargazing that night and both described the stars as appearing much larger here than usual.  

The following day Alex and I set out on the hike to Trapper’s Cabin.  I didn’t know much about the hike or where exactly it ended up other than what we’d heard from other visitors that it can be quite strenuous and sometimes difficult to keep on the trail.  A sign at the trailhead indeed cautioned that the trail can be hazardous and is not maintained.  Surprised there even was a sign to mark the trail we headed up into the mountain.  Quite steep most of the way, we ascended nearly 2000 feet in less than a mile.  It was challenging and beautiful in the dense woods with large rocks that had to be scrambled up – though sometimes the tree roots growing over the rocks made a nice set of nature stairs to climb.  Many fallen trees block the path and require finding another way around.  Sometimes it was clear where previous hikers had made their way around and someone, it appeared not too long ago, had taken some bright colored tape and marked where they found the trail every so often.  Lured by the sound of falling water getting closer and closer we continued our climb and eventually reached the ruins of the cabin and just beyond it a large falls.  We cautiously ventured out onto a rock ledge to get a look at the falls and the view.  It was running so strong it was hard to get out far enough to see the view beyond the tree branches but we caught a narrow glimpse of the inlet far below and all the way out to the entrance at Malibu rapids.  Trying to get a photo, my phone and I also got a pretty good soaking from the cascading falls.  Refreshed from the views and cool shower we made our way back to the trail and the long climb down.  An hour later back at the trailhead we took the other trail back towards Chatterbox falls to get another soaking and cool ourselves off again. 

Thursday evening brought the first clouds we’d seen since heading up Jervis Inlet.  I had noticed the cloudlessness mostly in regards to poorer photo quality in the full sun but mostly I’d been grateful for the long days of warm sunshine.  But when a few fluffy clouds rolled over near sunset that evening the views managed to become even more stunning and dramatic.  Friday morning a few long strings of clouds appeared casting their shadows on the mountains and cliff faces continuing to make the view all the more epic and the inlet feel even more closed in and forbidding.  I snapped many more photos and continued to be mesmerized by where I was. 

Later that morning we and Blue Dog decided to move our boats about halfway down the inlet to the mooring balls at MacDonald Island for a different view and so we’d be closer to the entrance for our early morning departure on Saturday.  MacDonald Island is so named for James F. MacDonald – the proprietor of the land at the head of the inlet from 1927-1953.  He spent his years protecting the pristine beauty of the area from commercial interests and eventually deeded the property to the Princess Louisa International Society.  This non-profit continues to raise funds to protect and grow the now 964 hectare park land which is managed by BC Parks for anyone to enjoy.  Setting off on my paddle board from our new spot I chased the reflection of the opposite cliff top to the shore across the inlet and then let the sound of falling water draw me along in its direction.  Here the bottom of the trees meet the high tide line where rocks covered in bright green moss and seaweed fall straight down.  Just under the water the rocks were growing some kind of red algae and were dotted with little greenish anemones, a few spiny sea cucumbers, and orange and purple starfish.  I’m always fascinated by the starfish which appear to be effortlessly hung on the rocks – some fully spread out on a flat surface, others folded and tucked into a crevice between the rocks, often one or more on top of another huddled together.  

We all took the short hike from the dinghy dock adjacent to MacDonald Island across the only section of horizontal land in the inlet.  Dark almost black wildflowers line the edge of where the trees and underbrush meet the rocky beach shore.  A mass of beautiful spring green and moss covered deciduous trees mix in with the pines and thick bushes surrounding the trail.  We found some fecal evidence of bears recently in the area.  A previous visitor had left a small note near the dock stating they had seen said bear just a week prior to our visit.  We had dinner on Blue Dog that evening and said our goodbyes as we’d both be departing early the next morning.  

To make the morning high water slack at Malibu Rapids, for our exit, we woke at dawn and reluctantly followed a line of other boats back out to Jervis Inlet.  Jim and Beth were ahead of us in line and waited for us just outside the rapids.  Waving and shouting goodbye, for now, to the crew of Blue Dog, we began the long trip back down Jervis Inlet.  We wouldn’t have any winds in our favor this time as they were light and continued to flow up the inlet.  So we settled in to the long motor and spent our time ogling up at the rock cliffs, taking more photos of the ever changing mountain ranges, now also made more dramatic in the shadow of clouds floating overhead, and listening to the radio chatter on the VHF from the crew of a couple of the other boats leaving together that morning.  My dreams, now my reality, it’s no mystery why people return to Princess Louisa each year or whenever they get the chance.  It will continue to fill my dreams – now as fond and magical memories for a long time to come.