Sail Chandelle

June 2 – 7, 2023

Proceeding north from Desolation Sound requires traversing at least one of the major sets of rapids, where currents on large tides can run through narrow passages at up to 16 knots.  The three main routes are Seymour Narrows, Surge Narrows, or the Yacultas which is a set of 3 rapids all in a row.  With the Octopus Islands high on our to do list, we opted for the middle route through Surge Narrows via Beazley Passage.  This path would take us through another set of narrows – the “upper rapids” in Okisollo Channel on our departure from Octopus Islands.  The trip from Rebecca Spit was quick and easy – we arrived just a little early for slack tide and hovered outside Beazley Pass for a few minutes, checking it out with binoculars.  The water looked quite calm so we made our way in; a large motor yacht came up behind us and thankfully waited until we were past the turn, around Tusko Rock, before passing us in Surge Narrows where the channel begins to widen.  Just a couple miles ahead, the east entrance to Octopus Islands and Waiatt Bay, is also strewn with rocks but well charted and quite picturesque.  There were a number of dinghies out fishing or dropping crab pots.  

We had our pick of anchoring spots on arriving; there were a few other boats but most were in the huge area of Waiatt Bay.  We decided to tuck into the northwest little cove of the marine park, west of all the small rocks and islands.  This little bay had drying mud flats on its north and west shores on Quadra Island and made the bay itself grow and shrink significantly between the 10+ foot tides.  It was beautiful and serene with bright blue skies and stark white clouds.  For the first two days we had the small cove to ourselves and enjoyed the remote tranquility and solace.  Every day we watched eagles soaring overhead and calling to each other from the tree tops.  I finally learned the song of the eagles, a shrill, high-pitched, staccato, almost whistle like call I’d heard before but hadn’t placed.  Now every time I hear it I know to look for the distinct white heads soaring above or perched in the tree tops. 

With a southerly wind blowing into the anchorage we took our paddle boards out and pushed upwind to one of the larger islands.  Both the large islands are private, however cruisers are invited to make landfall on one corner of the south island where an old camping cabin has been converted into a driftwood art house.  For years, boaters have put all kinds of creative regalia, sea trash and driftwood painted or carved with their boat names, on display.  I’d collected a small piece of drift wood from beach combing at Rebecca Spit and decorated it for the occasion.  It was a joy to look through the guest book on the table and scour the driftwood, covering every available surface, for boat names we knew or recognized.  A couple friends of ours had been through just a month before, we found another boat called Chandelle – a motor vessel and we even found a Sailor Jerry’s Kids sticker from SV Yahtzee!

Exploring around all the little islands, rocks, and passageways we discovered a number of areas where it appeared short walls of rocks had been built up on the water’s edge of little beaches.  Unable to find any history about the area – we speculated what the purpose could be, assuming it was not a natural phenomenon, and were likely left from when first nations people populated this land.  Later in a book we found, of Broughton area history, we learned they were indeed indigenous built clam gardens.  In Full Moon Flood Tide, Bill Proctor describes “the clam garden was a clam beach that was tended with great care and a lot of work. Rocks were gathered up from the sandy beach area and piled in a ring along the low-tide perimeter.  The removal of rocks made more room for the clams and the wall of stones prevented the sandy beach from eroding.”  As with most indigenous customs these gardens reflect the care and intention to work with the land, preserving its natural state to sustain themselves rather than destroying it in the process.  

Time felt immeasurable as we enjoyed these days of sunshine – relaxing on deck, reading, grilling, exploring, and feeling grateful to have no agenda.  We found trails in the woods and red sea cucumbers and orange anemones among the ever present starfish and seaweed.  One day we took the dinghy out in to Okisollo ​Channel to watch the rapids at Hole in the ​Wall and the Upper rapids at full flood which had them flowing at about 9 knots that day.  We observed from a safe distance since I was too chicken to let Alex take us too close as we could see the water churning and boiling in all directions.  The day before we planned to leave – we listened to the weather forecast on the radio which was reporting a gale warning for Johnstone Strait continuing into the next day.  We opted to stay put for an extra day, instead of our original plan to fight the winds up Okisollo channel and tuck into Otter Cove for a night.  Given the gale, it felt prudent to stay where we were and make our attempt at Okisollo and Johnstone Strait the following day with the tides in our favor and hopefully much lighter winds. 

Our decision was rewarded with an extra warm and sunny day in the Octopus Islands and easy conditions for transiting the Johnstone.  With the prevailing summer winds here from the northwest, you’re almost guaranteed to be traveling into the wind heading north.  If you travel with the current on an ebb tide you run the risk of big seas if the opposing winds pick up.  We were fortunate, the highest winds we saw were at the beginning of the day in Discovery Passage, 15-20 knots, and it was short lived.  Once we rounded into Johnstone it fell steadily to 5-10 and we never saw another gust more than 15 knots.  We had current with us most of the way and speeds up to 10 knots over ground so we made great time and many more miles than we’d planned on!  We enjoyed the miles of sun and gorgeous mountain views – though many are marred with the scars of logging.  Between Earl Ledge and Hardwicke Point on Hardwicke Island we encountered some strong current action on the surface of the water.  Overfalls and whirlpools overtook the calm waters sliding our bow around a bit and slowing us back to our more typical speed of 5 knots.  Witnessing the water move in this way is impressive and we considered how easily higher winds causing an increased sea state could quickly turn it into a dangerous situation.  

Port Harvey ended up being our destination that day and with an average of nearly 6 knots speed over ground we clocked 54 miles in under 10 hours and completed the full 37 miles of Johnstone Strait we assumed would take two days as conditions often deteriorate in the afternoons.  There was not another boat in Port Harvey – likely due to the industry on shore and the closing of the marina there.  Lining the west bank are float buildings of various sizes which appeared to be workshops, sheds, offices, and crew houses or living spaces with satellite and vhf antenna, windows and a couple grills on the railings.  A large industrial operation lined the shore – and thankfully was not active while we were there.  We assumed it could be a logging operation but later we learned it’s actually a ship yard for large vessels.  Seems such an odd place, given it’s on an island, not close to any large population/civilization area, and surrounded by dirt roads.  Though many likely skip anchoring here – we found it fascinating and still had beautiful views out to the mountains on Vancouver Island and of the surrounding lowlands of East and West Cracroft Islands.