Sail Chandelle

May 20 – June 2, 2023

On our way to Desolation Sound from Jervis Inlet we made a brief overnight stop in Lund, a historic community marking the end of the Pacific Coastal Highway 101 – or perhaps the beginning depending who you ask.  Tied to the inside of one of the floating breakwaters we watched eagles flying in and out of the nearby pines and a raucous pod of sea lions barking and splashing just out from the shore. In the morning we rowed the dinghy to the marina and wandered the docks and boardwalk and explored the grounds
of the renovated Lund Hotel, built in 1905. At 8 am we walked over to Nancy’s bakery, famous for their pastries, just as it was opening for the day. The cafe was already bustling with activity and the intimate Canadian friendliness and charm was in abundance. We enjoyed delicious coffee, impressive breakfast sandwiches, and shared a giant, delectable raspberry cinnamon roll. Completely stuffed we walked around a bit more before heading back to the boat. After making a quick pit stop for gasoline and diesel at the fuel dock we turned back north and took in the stunning Copeland Islands via Thulin Passage. 

Nearly every cruising guide I’ve read on this location has a quote from George Vancouver’s depressed 1792 musings about the uninviting nature of this “inhospitable” region and thus how it earned the name “Desolation.” Alex’s and my favorite quote is his
description of Teakerne Arm: “presenting as gloomy and dismal an aspect as nature could well be supposed to exhibit, had she not been a little aided by vegetation; which though dull and uninteresting, screened from our sight the dreary rocks and precipices that compose these desolate shores, especially on the northern side; as the opposite shore, though extremely rude and mountainous, possessed a small space of nearly level land…” And so now will all rocky, steep, mountainous shores on our travels be so described by us as “rude.” Much of Vancouver’s crew, along with the Spanish explorers also surveying the area, seemed not so utterly disappointed with what they found here. Archibald Menzies’ descriptions counter Vancouver’s and tend to mirror the modern cruiser’s delight in the rugged, “romantic appearance” of the land and the refreshment of lakes and waterfalls. Whatever it is that draws boaters here each summer, I like how Bill Wolferstan puts it best in his cruising guide from 1980, “It is ironic today that modern man has so altered the places where he lives from what they were originally or what they could be, that he must seek out the desolate areas which still retain some degree of naturalness to regain peace of mind.”

Sailing into Desolation Sound with it’s “naturalness” and the iconic mountain views of Mount Denman, Mount Addenbroke, and Dudley Cone appearing beneath a blanket of clouds was another milestone accomplished. Somewhat undecided on our first anchorage – the winds helped make our choice, carrying us nearly to the entrance of
Prideaux Haven. Knowing this was a favorite of many of our cruising friends it seemed the perfect place for a respite after the long haul out of Jervis Inlet the day before. From our perspective, the entrance appeared a bit more treacherous than on the charts, but on a 15 foot tide you can easily imagine how a channel feels much smaller at low water. In certain areas such as this one, transiting at low tide is often advisable so all the obstructions are clearly visible above water. We made it through the narrow turn into the protected and serene harbor full of little offshoots, coves, and passageways to tuck into. Setting our anchor in the main part of the bay we were still quite distant from the other five boats already there and were very content to enjoy the “desolation.”

In the mornings when the winds were dead calm it was fascinatingly quiet in Prideaux Haven; other than the chirping of the birds and the occasional noises our own boat makes, it felt so still and silent. As the days wore on to afternoon the wind would pick up and there was the occasional generator or dinghy engine running somewhere across the anchorage but each morning the sublime tranquility returned. I love sitting in the cockpit with my morning coffee listening to all the varied bird sounds. Here there were the usual tweets, twitters, whistles, and squawks and the amazingly loud honking Canadian geese – although Alex says I can just call them geese here. I also saw a few dark grey birds with long red beaks flying barely above the water and making a noise that basically sounds like screaming. One of the black birds sounds like a drawn out sonar beeping and one I never saw, but we heard often, somehow sounds like a spring door stop when it’s
pulled and let go. 

Shortly after we anchored in Prideaux I heard movement in the brush on Eveleigh Island to our north. I looked and looked but couldn’t locate whatever was causing the rustling. The following afternoon I heard it again – and this time I finally spotted a small deer. It was so difficult to see against the similar colored brush and rock, I only saw it and eventually two others when they walked in front of something green. I pointed them out to Alex and it took him a bit to finally see them as well. 

One day, on a dinghy exploration of all the little bays and nooks, we happened upon a
group of hawks strutting their prowess on a rocky shoreline. With two Eagles also looking on from afar, a few of the presumably male birds in the group were spreading their wings wide while hopping from rock to rock. A couple times one would take off making a few swift swoops before landing again and continuing to show off their wingspan. One of the eagles flew off as we neared but the hawks were utterly
unbothered by our presence, as we slowed and hovered to watch them from the small channel. The water was crystal clear in the shallow areas so we could easily scope out the bottom while we meandered through the little passageways, some of which are dry at low water. Outside the anchorage we traveled a bit north to find Paige Islet – a lovely long bit of rock and boulder dotted by a few scraggly trees!

The weather was overcast and cool in Prideaux Haven, but hopeful the sun might show up in the afternoon, we set out one day to hike to Unwin Lake. We paddled over to Melanie Cove for the trail and stashed our boards up on the rocks above the high tide line. There was a convenient sign post at the trailhead letting us know the rough trajectory and distance of the hike. Entering the woods here was enchanting – there were large maple trees standing among the pines covered in an entirely different pattern and color of moss. Their giant leaves a distinctly bright spring green contrasting with the many other shades. We meandered over a couple steep passes where from the top you could see the distant hill tops through the trees. Leading back down the slopes the trails
passed two smaller marshy lake areas and then turned to follow a stunning little creek to the main lake. By the time we reached the shore of Unwin Lake we’d worked up a sweat and were excited to take a dip in the freshwater. 

We climbed over a couple driftwood trees onto some boulders along the shore and tested the water. It was cool but not nearly as cold as I thought it might be given there hadn’t been any sun to warm it up for two days. After the refreshing swim all we had was a breeze to dry us off as it remained stubbornly overcast. We snacked and enjoyed the view before getting dressed and returning to the trail to warm back up. On our return paddle to the boat I hugged the steep shore where purple and orange starfish dotted the rocks and limbs from fallen trees hung between the tide lines and had become home to hundreds of mussels. Our final day in Prideaux the sun and blue sky finally appeared and
we had epic views of the coastal mountains. 

Our next stop was Tenedos Bay, just around the corner from Prideaux. It felt like a challenging anchorage since we were not yet used to anchoring in deep water. There are two main areas to anchor and both were fairly empty so we cruised around a bit looking for a good spot. There was one ledge we found at about 40 feet depth but it dropped
off quickly so we aimed a bit closer to shore and dropped in about 65 feet so we wouldn’t accidentally drag from the shelf into the deeper water. When we backed up to set the anchor we were a little closer to shore than we intended – we were perfectly safe but we
considered tying a stern line so we wouldn’t swing and potentially unhook the anchor. Unfortunately, we had anchored near a cliff as we weren’t intending to stern tie so there weren’t any trees or anything obvious within reach to tie to. I got on the paddle board,
with some extra pieces of line, to see if I could find anything on a closer look. After scouting the shore I found a rock that was large enough and wedged in and had enough of a ledge below it I could get off the paddle board and climb up. Once I had the spare line secured around the rock, I paddled back to the boat and retrieved the end of our long stern tie line from Alex and got us tied to shore.

Later that evening, exploring the water surrounded by steep cliff sides, we met an older
couple on a power boat called, Escape, that had already been anchored in the bay when we arrived. They were curious about our boat and plans and offered some sound advice about wildlife spotting as we traveled further north. The seals were playing in the water near their boat and watched us as we paddled by. The following afternoon we paddled across the anchorage to a little beach area where we met some kayakers who’d arrived there from their campsite on a small island outside the bay. We took the much shorter hike from here to a different part of Unwin Lake and saw some tiny freshwater fish and
even a lizard swimming while we waded in the water. 

After untying our stern line and raising the anchor the next day we made our way to Squirrel Cove on the east side of Cortes Island. Accessed through a small pass between the main island and a small island which helps protect the anchorage, Squirrel cove opens up to two main areas, currently separated by a small marine farm. We tucked in near the northern edge by another small islet and set the hook in a much easier depth of about 20 feet. With the sun shining and clear blue skies we enjoyed a windy paddle around with eagles flying overhead and seals swimming under our boards and jumping out of the water by the rocky island. A half sunken fishing boat was tied onto the shore in one corner and there was an old skiff, some kind of tank, and an old dock also washed up on another part of the beach.  Otherwise the land surrounding the anchorage was unoccupied by anything but nature. 

The Squirrel Cove general store, outside the protected cove, lay on the south section of the open part of the bay. We took the dinghy over and found a bit of decent produce to get us through the next few days. Later we hiked part of the “Norwegian Loop Trail” – so called on a cute handmade sign we spotted nailed to a tree – across the island to Von Donop Inlet. Someone had also repurposed some beach trash – old rope and floats to help mark the trail which was still overgrown in places, though we did pass a few other cruisers hiking. Both evenings we spent in Squirrel Cove the wind would die off and the water became a perfect mirror of our surroundings. 

Planning to travel around the south end of Cortes Island to Gorge Harbor on the other side we left Squirrel cove mid morning as the winds started to fill in and put up the sails as we exited the bay. We had to motor sail through Baker passage as the winds dropped off around Mary Point. Sailing again north of Mitlenatch Island we baked in the warm sun and I snapped too many photos of all the gorgeous mountain ranges from the coast of Desolation to Vancouver Island. The entrance to Gorge Harbor, a narrow pass with a large cliff face on the West side, was unfortunately the coolest thing about it. The spacious, ideal anchorage area was completely packed with boats on moorings. We circled the rest of the large harbor for a while but it was fairly deep and felt quite crowded and busy with private docks and marine farms so we eventually decided to try for Mansons Landing instead – just over a mile from the entrance of Gorge Harbor. 

Anchoring at Mansons Landing was also a bit challenging – it took us two attempts in the deep water to make sure we had enough swing room away from where the bottom shoals quickly near the entrance to the lagoon. In almost 70 feet depth we put out the most chain we’ve ever anchored with and got a good look at the anchor locker when the
chain got snagged on a bit of line at about 250 feet. Despite the challenges, this ended up being one of our favorite spots. From where we anchored we could see into the lagoon, down the beach, and across the channel to Quadra and Vancouver Islands. The homes along this shore of Cortes Island were quite interesting and just next to us was
a small cliff with a walkway wrapped around the corner to a tall dock that was now missing the part that used to reach the water. It was fun to speculate what it was used for and why they’d built it that way.  The views were beautiful and the next day when we took the dinghy to shore we were treated with a gorgeous sandy beach. Walking
barefoot in the fine sand we combed the beach, finding an almost fully intact lavender sea urchin shell, some old abandoned dinghys, bright yellow, purple and pink wild flowers along the edge of the trees, and a uniquely created driftwood bench/sculpture/totem (see photos). At one end a spit of beach stretches out and on the other side lies a saltwater lagoon. On our walk we also encountered a few logs of barely burnt wood from an abandoned beach fire. 

Back at the boat we scrounged around for some paper scraps and something to cook over a fire. We didn’t have much but headed back in to the beach and collected the few scraps of firewood and dug ourselves a little pit in the sand. It was a bit windy so we kept the fire small, and cooked our meager, haphazard dinner while we enjoyed the sunset and a bottle of wine. I definitely have some work to do in planning for our future beach fire meals. All in all though it was one of our favorite days in Desolation Sound and we ended up staying another night. 

Never more grateful for our windlass as we pulled in the 275 feet of chain from 70 feet down – we regretfully left our little beach haven. It was a quick windless motor across Sutil Channel to Heriot Bay of Quadra Island. We had decided to take advantage of the last day of the low mid season moorage prices and tie up at the Heriot Bay Inn for the night and use their facilities. I filled all four of the available laundry machines while Alex gave the decks a rinse and topped up our water tanks. We had a lovely evening meeting folks on the dock and having dinner at the local pub. The next morning we provisioned as much fresh produce and cold goods as we could carry the couple blocks back to the marina. After packing the fridge we didn’t have far to go as there’s a beautiful anchorage off Rebecca Spit – which helps protect Heriot Bay – and the weather was going to be just about perfect for a calm night anchored off the beach. 

With the anchor set in our new spot we sat in the cockpit and watched people and dogs
wandering the spit while we ate lunch. We threw our paddle boards in the water and floated over to the gravel beach to hike around. On the outside of the spit there was an enormous amount of driftwood. I’ll be forever fascinated with the prevalence and sheer size of some of these washed up trees – really makes you consider the conditions that allow it to happen and reminds the PNW boater to keep a keen eye on the water for deadheads.