Sail Chandelle

june 16-22, 2023

A very kind staff person, Matt, ran to help catch our lines as we arrived in Sullivan Bay, an adorably tiny and colorful floating community on the north side of North Broughton Island. Operational only in the summer months, the new proprietors of the marina were still readying for the crowd of boats which would start to pick up closer to July. As luck would have it, we arrived the same day as their first shipment of the season – they were still unloading and doing inventory for the store, so we waited until the following morning to check it out. The owner and manager, Bill, pulled up alongside the main pier while we were walking in and welcomed us to the “downtown” area of Sullivan Bay, where the restaurant and wifi tent, line the dock across from the fuel dock, and adjacent to the store and washroom/laundry building. Bill was friendly and kind and we swapped stories about the gale that had just blown through the area and he shared some of his challenges as his family had just acquired the property before the previous season. We met his partner, Laura and their charming school aged child, in the store while paying the nightly moorage fee and to inquire about laundry. 

We walked through the rest of “town” and then over to the “suburbs.” The only access to land is limited to authorized staff as it leads to the fuel storage tanks on the shore. Each of the docks has a street sign with a clever name like “Coho cul-de-sac.” and there’s even a one hole “golf-course,” although the “hole,” if it exists, was not yet placed for the season. The dozen or so floating homes each had their own style, while all of them seemed to be set up for pulling up on a fishing boat for the summer and most were not yet in use while we were there. 

On our way north into Grappler Sound we had to transit a small narrow cut which had some current flowing through – as we drew near we saw what appeared to be a very dark piece of driftwood floating along. It seemed to be moving quite fast though – and not in a way you would expect the current to move it. Through the binoculars I was sure it had to be moving under its own power and considered it was a bear, though I still couldn’t see a distinct head. Finally I had Alex look through the binoculars and by then we were close enough he could see its nose and confirmed it was a black bear! I watched it continue its swim across the channel, climb up onto a rocky shore and disappear into the trees – wild. 

Large and nearly landlocked Turnbull Cove with countless spots to anchor in reasonable depths was a welcome change from what we’d encountered so far in the Broughtons. I enjoyed a day of much needed rain, sitting out in our sheltered cockpit, reading and listening to the raindrops on the water. That evening as the rain subsided, the residual clouds created dramatic views out the small entrance and to the hills surrounding Kenneth Passage. We’d set up our satellite phone, using the wifi in Sullivan Bay, knowing we’d be without cell service for a while, so we messed around with messaging our families and downloading the GRIB weather files. 

On a hike, the next day, we found ruins and leftovers from a long ago logging operation here. A large rusting steam donkey hauled up into the edge of the woods sits falling apart. Over the hill and on the lake side of the trail is an old collapsed platform and many broken rusting cables. On the lake is a float of huge trees that has now been built up into a nice dock to accommodate small watercraft and there’s a picnic table built on the shore. Unfortunately, we could only see this small arm of the huge lake from the dock but it was beautiful, clear blue water, surrounded by dense green forest. The short hike over the hill to and from Huaskin Lake was less muddy than expected after the rains and we ran across a couple of frogs along the way.

Leaving Turnbull we motor sailed into Mackenzie Sound hoping we could find a cool spot to drop the hook for a night and maybe find an old logging road to hike. The day was overcast with a few wispy white and lavender clouds against a dark grey looming sky, looking like a watercolor painting above the steep mountain sides of the long inlet. The dark black of the water reflected the sky and housed a long stretch of moon jellies. On our way past the fishing resort in Nimmo Bay two float planes flew over and landed ahead on their way to the resort. At the head of the sound, though it didn’t appear active, there was a large floating corral – maybe for log booming – and a couple of tanks floating nearby. They were certainly tethered somehow but with the winds blowing up the inlet and not much protection from the fetch – it all felt a bit too sketchy to spend the night. We had a back up planned and turned around to head back out towards Burly Bay. Just north of Burly Bay and before the Hopetown Rapids we tucked into a small cove formed by Blair Islet. 

Between the mainland and Blair Islet we had a lovely view of the cliffs forming the east shore of Burly Bay and could sometimes hear the rush of water flowing through the rapids of Hopetown Passage. Seals and ducks swam about, a huge bait ball shimmered and rippled the water, and tiny fish were breaking the surface every so often. The islet is connected to the peninsula by a drying tombolo which we explored at low tide. Barnacles and mussels covered the rocks making a crackling sound, clams squirting water up from below, squishy seaweed patches growing all around, trees blowing and creaking in the wind, a hummingbird buzzing through the branches – so much noise on this small stretch of land that lives half its life underwater. It felt as though the beach was breathing and the trees were telling a story. 

We took our paddle boards over to the rapids and then around the corner into Burly Bay. We’d read in Full Moon, Flood Tide there used to be Chinese and Japanese logging camps on the shore of this bay – but we couldn’t find any ruins. Under the water though we spotted flounder and other bottom fish scurrying away from our shadows in the shallows and a bunch of yellow lion’s mane jellies. By the time we paddled back towards the boat the tombolo was covered with enough water for us to easily paddle through. 

Our last stop in Grappler Sound was Claydon Bay where we found several areas of logging ruins on shore as well as some left over floating docks and log boom areas. In the shallows and on shore were a series of raised trusses, almost like the supports for a pier, but they must have been used as log shoots to push the logs from the land into the water. The random floating dock sections still had trash and old crabbing gear strewn about and the bow of a small sunken boat was visible at low tide. It’s out of the way enough, I imagine no one really cares about the leftover floating mess, but the whole place gave me an eerie feeling.