We figured a little update was due after several months of
blog silence. The hiatus was not
intentional. It seems like we just moved in and suddenly winter, spring, and
summer have flown by! What have we been
doing with all of this time, you ask?
Well, a lot and not a lot. We’re
still here in Bellingham, and as Mike mentioned back in December, it’s a bit of
a novelty feeling for us to be staying put in one spot. The past few months have felt like a bit of a
vacation after years of seasonal life.
Not having to pack and move, plan something big, or repeatedly start
from scratch leaves lots of time for…whatever!
When living and working seasonally, a year’s worth of experiences tend
to get crammed into a small amount of time, and now we’re adjusting to opposite
side of that coin, in which days and months flow into each other,
uninterrupted. It’s different and
lovely, and that’s how the end of August has managed to arrive in the blink of
an eye. So here’s a little recap of our
past (almost) year in the ‘Ham:
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Reflections on the summer
We have been back from our kayaking trip for a few months and are living in an apartment building a couple blocks away from the college campus in Bellingham. It is a strange feeling to have signed a year lease and to just be working a job and living. For the past 4 1/2 years Kelly and I have been moving and changing jobs every 3-6 months. We have always had something to plan and work towards whether that was going to do a ski season in Colorado, move to the east coast for the spring, travel in Ecuador and Peru, build a kayak, or paddle for three months from Alaska to Washington. But currently we don't have a next adventure, we are in this apartment until next September, maybe longer. We have been spending time with good friends, and reading and watching movies in our warm apartment while winter settles in outside. I have been running again and we have gone on a hike or two but something definitely feels missing. That feeling of working towards something outside the boundary of our normal life, something bigger and grander, something new, I miss that feeling.
I think the fact that we aren't working towards some new adventure amplifies the feeling of not being on our last adventure. I miss waking up outside in the predawn everyday, packing up my stuff and paddling to a new island. I miss worrying about bears and listening to the weather report on the VHF every night. I miss unfolding the chart, calculating mileage and trying to predict what the tides will do (even though they never do what you think). Speaking of tides, I miss blaming or thanking the kelp for the currents. Anytime I saw the kelp flowing against me I knew the tides were going against me as well and for some reason it seemed like the kelp's fault, like all the kelp in the ocean somehow dictated the tides and currents. Most of all I miss getting to see humpback whales, seals and all the other wildlife everyday.
While I do miss all of these things about our trip, I am loving Bellingham. To fill some of the void of not planning, Kelly and I are creating a trip log with pictures and GPS locations of our campsites in the hopes that it will help other people like us who want to do the trip. I love that we have a warm little coffee shop where we can work on that trip log. I love that I can still say hello to the seals and shore birds when I go on runs through Boulevard Park. I loved watching the leaves blow in the wind and fall off the Alders that frame our windows. Now I love watching the rain drops linger and freeze on their naked branches. I love being so close to friends and family and spending time with visiting ones. I love having options on a Saturday night, being able to see the Cave Singers at the Buffalo or go to the Banff Film Festival at the Mount Baker Theater. Most of all I love that since we live in Bellingham we definitely don't have to give up getting to kayak. There are only more options of things to do outdoors and soon our Pygmys will be back on the water, the rivers will be running, and the wildflowers blooming in the high alpine.
Hopefully we will have more reflections and mini adventures to report about this winter as well as our trip log. Stay tuned. Here are some pictures of our fall so far:
Moving into our new apartment
Dom came to visit!
So did a bunch of other people that we like! And we ate pancakes!
I wasn't here for this hike, but Bryce and Emily were.
I wasn't here for this hike, but Bryce and Emily were.
Creating artisan pizza with Jordan.
Crazy mushroom in the Chuckanuts
Raptor Ridge
Friday, September 23, 2011
Pictures from the homecoming leg
Preparing for the final leg in Powell River
Old homestead on Jedidiah Island
Cormorants and clouds
Crazy rock boulder
Little rock pond formations
Sunlight rays across the Strait of Georgia
Naniamo as seen from Newcastle Island
Rock cliffs on western Gabriola Island
Lunch break on Wallace Island
Sunset from Prevost
Heart made from our standard PB and honey tortwich
Bubbly on Posey Island on our last night of the trip
I don't think much explanation is needed here
Sunrise over Orcas Island
Warm welcome back at Orkila
We Made It!
Greetings from Orcas Island! After three months and 1101 nautical miles paddled from Alaska to Washington, our journey has come to an end! Crazy. The fact that this isn't just another resupply stop hasn't quite sunken in, and it still seems like we'll be heading back out on the water in a couple days. Somewhere along the way, this all stopped feeling like a trip we were on and just became a way of life, and it's definitely a strange feeling to say goodbye to that. This last leg really was an appropriate transition, though, as we left the wilderness behind for developed landscapes and populated areas. Mike likened it to walking down a logging road back to the car after being on a long backpacking trip. Fall started to move in with a little more urgency, too, giving us good motivation to bust out the miles and get home before stormy weather became the rule rather than the exception. Our final leg had its fair share of challenges, though, as well as some wonderful highlights:
The Strait of Georgia was the final major crossing of the trip. After leaving Powell River, we spent two days hustling down the length of Texada Island in order to take advantage of the last of the calm weather in the area. Sangster Island provided a perfect position for an early morning crossing, and we had a great campsite amid interesting sandstone formations. We were on the water at dawn and had a (thankfully) uneventful 5-mile open water crossing to the Ballenas Islands, then a short hop over to Vancouver Island. The Whiskey Golf maritime test range wasn't active that day, so no need to be on the lookout for torpedoes, and there wasn't a freighter in sight.
As it turned out, that was the last calm weather in the northern Strait of Georgia for quite a while. High winds picked up that afternoon, and, according the weather forecast, never really abated for the next week or so. We were definitely happy to have made it across when we did.
Those same afternoon winds resulted in us getting stranded between campsites. Rather than stopping at Southey Island as planned, we tried to squeeze in 10 more miles by getting to Newcastle Island in Nanaimo Harbor. Bad idea. The area we were in was still very open, and the 15-knot winds got the best of us. Getting off the water wasn't an easy option, though, as the coast around Nanaimo is very developed, and private homes line the shores. Even though tidelands in Canada are public, camping in someone's front yard just seems like poor form. Luckily, we found a nice grassy boat launch/barbeque area at the base of a bluff-backed beach, and Mike got permission from the homeowner above to camp there. We were grateful for a flat spot to rest before battling the wind again the next day.
We finally made it to Newcastle (a lovely park nestled in the hubub of Nanaimo Harbor) after a 5-mile battle against gusting wind and 4-foot moderate seas. Once inside the harbor, though, we were out of the wind and had a lovely time paddling along the island and the harbor. Our first stop after setting up camp was the Dingy Dock Pub, a floating bar on Protection Island, about a 2-minute paddle away. It was wonderful to paddle over, tie up the boats, and enjoy a beer and burger after a difficult morning.
South of Nanaimo, we paddled along Gabriola Island and the miles of log booms that line it, avoided Dodd Narrows by cruising through False Narrows next door, and entered the Gulf Islands. We've been excited to paddle through the Gulf Islands ever since we started kayaking 4 years ago. Quite a few of them are visible from the San Juans, and it was wonderful to see them from the other side of the border. We celebrated the return of the "quasi-stationary ridge" over Vancouver Island, which provided the calm weather and warm sunshine that made the last days of our trip delightful.
Our last big day, or The Day of Seven Crossings, as I have named it, started on Prevost Island, BC and ended triumphantly at Posey Island, WA (a tiny little blip just outside of Roche Harbor on San Juan). The seven crossings went as follows: Prevost-Saltspring-Portland-Moresby-Gooch/Rum-Stuart-Spieden-San Juan (and of course, what trip through the Gulf Islands would be complete without a close call with a BC ferry)! We had intended to stop at Rum Island and cross Haro Strait to Stuart the following morning, but the weather was so nice and the water was so calm that we crossed in the afternoon (gasp!). We cleared customs in Roche Harbor, bought some bubbly beverages, and headed over to Posey to celebrate our last night.
And then the last day was upon us. Dawn was a distant, fiery red line under an overcast sky as we got on the water to paddle the last 12 miles to Orkila (a paddle that we used to think was a pretty long way--ha!). We crossed San Juan Channel, said a quick hello to Jones, then cruised up President Channel with the flood tide. As we came around Freeman Island and paddled toward shore, we were welcomed home by a crowd of friends and family, whooping it up with signs, cheers, hugs, and laughter. The love and support from everyone (including those who couldn't be on the beach that morning) was overwhelming. We are unbelievably fortunate. What a wonderful way to come home.
The Strait of Georgia was the final major crossing of the trip. After leaving Powell River, we spent two days hustling down the length of Texada Island in order to take advantage of the last of the calm weather in the area. Sangster Island provided a perfect position for an early morning crossing, and we had a great campsite amid interesting sandstone formations. We were on the water at dawn and had a (thankfully) uneventful 5-mile open water crossing to the Ballenas Islands, then a short hop over to Vancouver Island. The Whiskey Golf maritime test range wasn't active that day, so no need to be on the lookout for torpedoes, and there wasn't a freighter in sight.
As it turned out, that was the last calm weather in the northern Strait of Georgia for quite a while. High winds picked up that afternoon, and, according the weather forecast, never really abated for the next week or so. We were definitely happy to have made it across when we did.
Those same afternoon winds resulted in us getting stranded between campsites. Rather than stopping at Southey Island as planned, we tried to squeeze in 10 more miles by getting to Newcastle Island in Nanaimo Harbor. Bad idea. The area we were in was still very open, and the 15-knot winds got the best of us. Getting off the water wasn't an easy option, though, as the coast around Nanaimo is very developed, and private homes line the shores. Even though tidelands in Canada are public, camping in someone's front yard just seems like poor form. Luckily, we found a nice grassy boat launch/barbeque area at the base of a bluff-backed beach, and Mike got permission from the homeowner above to camp there. We were grateful for a flat spot to rest before battling the wind again the next day.
We finally made it to Newcastle (a lovely park nestled in the hubub of Nanaimo Harbor) after a 5-mile battle against gusting wind and 4-foot moderate seas. Once inside the harbor, though, we were out of the wind and had a lovely time paddling along the island and the harbor. Our first stop after setting up camp was the Dingy Dock Pub, a floating bar on Protection Island, about a 2-minute paddle away. It was wonderful to paddle over, tie up the boats, and enjoy a beer and burger after a difficult morning.
South of Nanaimo, we paddled along Gabriola Island and the miles of log booms that line it, avoided Dodd Narrows by cruising through False Narrows next door, and entered the Gulf Islands. We've been excited to paddle through the Gulf Islands ever since we started kayaking 4 years ago. Quite a few of them are visible from the San Juans, and it was wonderful to see them from the other side of the border. We celebrated the return of the "quasi-stationary ridge" over Vancouver Island, which provided the calm weather and warm sunshine that made the last days of our trip delightful.
Our last big day, or The Day of Seven Crossings, as I have named it, started on Prevost Island, BC and ended triumphantly at Posey Island, WA (a tiny little blip just outside of Roche Harbor on San Juan). The seven crossings went as follows: Prevost-Saltspring-Portland-Moresby-Gooch/Rum-Stuart-Spieden-San Juan (and of course, what trip through the Gulf Islands would be complete without a close call with a BC ferry)! We had intended to stop at Rum Island and cross Haro Strait to Stuart the following morning, but the weather was so nice and the water was so calm that we crossed in the afternoon (gasp!). We cleared customs in Roche Harbor, bought some bubbly beverages, and headed over to Posey to celebrate our last night.
And then the last day was upon us. Dawn was a distant, fiery red line under an overcast sky as we got on the water to paddle the last 12 miles to Orkila (a paddle that we used to think was a pretty long way--ha!). We crossed San Juan Channel, said a quick hello to Jones, then cruised up President Channel with the flood tide. As we came around Freeman Island and paddled toward shore, we were welcomed home by a crowd of friends and family, whooping it up with signs, cheers, hugs, and laughter. The love and support from everyone (including those who couldn't be on the beach that morning) was overwhelming. We are unbelievably fortunate. What a wonderful way to come home.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Pics from Discovery and the Sunshine Coast!
Hanging out drinking homemade brew on Malcom Island with Kelly's uncle Jim and his friend Rob
Sunrise over Johnstone Stait, leaving Telegraph Cove
Camping on a flat headland on Poyntz Island just before heading into our 3 consecutive days of negotiating rapids
Beautiful camp under one of my favorite kind of trees (big leaf maple), just before the triple threat of rapids - Dent, Gillard, and Yaculta
Back in the land of the Madronas (or Arbutus as they are known as here)!
Designated campsite, our first one of the whole trip, with a pit toilet and a ranger warning of fire dangerThe weather's heating up, and the trip is winding down...
Hello from Powell River, BC! It seems like just a short time ago we were in Telegraph Cove...because it was! This past leg was scheduled to take 9 nights, but we busted it out in 6! After the long haul (and accompanying struggles) into Telegraph Cove, the paddle through the Discovery Islands and Desolation Sound has felt like a vacation. Every single day has been bone-dry, sunny, calm, and downright HOT. According to the locals, summer has arrived in BC. But a feeling of fall is in the air, too. Bigleaf maples are starting to turn and loose their leaves. The sun is actually set by the time we go to bed, and our headlamps stay on longer in the morning. Summer is winding down, and so is our journey. Nine days are all that remain between Powell River and Orcas Island, making this our last stop of the trip. We are definitely excited to get back, but also already feeling reminiscent and a little sad about this adventure being (mostly) behind us. There's still plenty of adventure, ahead, though, including crossing the Strait of Georgia, paddling though the Gulf Islands, and crossing Haro Strait to re-enter the US.
More from this short-but-glorious leg:
The challenges of this portion of the trip had mostly to do with currents in the channels we were travelling through. Portions of the area can have currents up to 10 knots, and 4 different "rapids" had to be negotiated. Not rapids in the sense of a whitewater river, but more like areas of crazy turbulence, giant eddies, whirlpools, and overfalls. In Cordero Channel, Dent, Gillard, and Yuculta rapids stretch over an area of about 5 miles and are notorously dangerous. We timed our run just right, hit each area at the three successive slacks, and had no problems. A little bit of funky water turned us around on the approach along the shore, but we managed to sneak along through the bull kelp and back eddies as the water approached slack.
Once out of Cordero Channel, we entered a completely different world in Desolation Sound. Oysters are everywhere, and the coastal scenery is scrubbier and more open, with dry grass, shore pine, and MADRONA! Oh, it feels so good to be among madrona trees again...We've also left the wilderness behind and are now in developed areas with lots of recreational boating and designated campsites. The night before Powell River (in the Copeland Islands Marine Park) was the first site we've shared with fellow kayakers, and there was even a pit toilet. We have to be civilized people now. No more peeing freely and shedding our clothes whenever we please.
We still have yet to see a single orca! We spent almost 5 days paddling in and around Johnstone Strait, where we were practically guaranteed to see them, but no. We monitored the whale watching boats on the VHF, and a huge pod was just north of us as we came in to Telegraph Cove, and another big pod has passed through the night before we left. Oh, well...
Speaking of animal sightings, after not seeing a single bear since crossing the border into Canada, we saw 6 in the first two days of this leg. Not near our campsites, though, just along the beach as we paddled by. They're always interesting to watch from afar. Now we're out of bear country though, and we're free to cook in our tent and leave our food out wherever we want! (Kidding...)
Despite the fact we're the only people under 40 (and without an RV), the campground at Powell River is wonderful. Clean, convenient, and close to town, it's a great place to relax and resupply. We'll definitely be enjoying our time here for the next couple days.
The next time we post, it'll be from Orcas Island! We can't wait to see friends and family and share our stories in person. I'm sure there will be plenty more to tell before this trip is over.
More from this short-but-glorious leg:
The challenges of this portion of the trip had mostly to do with currents in the channels we were travelling through. Portions of the area can have currents up to 10 knots, and 4 different "rapids" had to be negotiated. Not rapids in the sense of a whitewater river, but more like areas of crazy turbulence, giant eddies, whirlpools, and overfalls. In Cordero Channel, Dent, Gillard, and Yuculta rapids stretch over an area of about 5 miles and are notorously dangerous. We timed our run just right, hit each area at the three successive slacks, and had no problems. A little bit of funky water turned us around on the approach along the shore, but we managed to sneak along through the bull kelp and back eddies as the water approached slack.
Once out of Cordero Channel, we entered a completely different world in Desolation Sound. Oysters are everywhere, and the coastal scenery is scrubbier and more open, with dry grass, shore pine, and MADRONA! Oh, it feels so good to be among madrona trees again...We've also left the wilderness behind and are now in developed areas with lots of recreational boating and designated campsites. The night before Powell River (in the Copeland Islands Marine Park) was the first site we've shared with fellow kayakers, and there was even a pit toilet. We have to be civilized people now. No more peeing freely and shedding our clothes whenever we please.
We still have yet to see a single orca! We spent almost 5 days paddling in and around Johnstone Strait, where we were practically guaranteed to see them, but no. We monitored the whale watching boats on the VHF, and a huge pod was just north of us as we came in to Telegraph Cove, and another big pod has passed through the night before we left. Oh, well...
Speaking of animal sightings, after not seeing a single bear since crossing the border into Canada, we saw 6 in the first two days of this leg. Not near our campsites, though, just along the beach as we paddled by. They're always interesting to watch from afar. Now we're out of bear country though, and we're free to cook in our tent and leave our food out wherever we want! (Kidding...)
Despite the fact we're the only people under 40 (and without an RV), the campground at Powell River is wonderful. Clean, convenient, and close to town, it's a great place to relax and resupply. We'll definitely be enjoying our time here for the next couple days.
The next time we post, it'll be from Orcas Island! We can't wait to see friends and family and share our stories in person. I'm sure there will be plenty more to tell before this trip is over.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Goodbye, Central Coast!
Well, well, well, we finally made it to Vancouver Island! We've been relaxing at my (Kelly) uncle's house in Port McNeill, just up the road from Telegraph Cove. It seems like the whole trip thus far was a push to get down into the island's "protection" before the summer weather dissapeared, and now here we are! (And the first major weather front of the season is now approaching the north BC coast). The official "Inside Passage" along the BC coast up into Alaska has now been completed, and we feel officially homeward bound. What a great feeling! There are still a few hundred miles and lots of crazy obstacles between us and Orcas Island, though, so we still have lots of work ahead of us.
This leg of the trip hit us with just about every possible kayaking obstacle: rain, wind, choppy seas, crazy currents, open ocean swell and breakers, and fog. Lots and lots of fog. It also included the rounding of Cape Caution, a section of the trip that we'd been anxiously dreading since we started planning this trip. Named by Vancouver after he almost lost his ship in the area, Cape Caution is fully exposed to the might of the Pacific, and a shelf that extends off shore steepens swell and makes for tricky conditions. Once around the cape, we still had some swell to battle and wind to contend with as we made our way down Queen Charlotte Strait toward the Broughton Islands. In the Broughtons, all of the water coming in from the north has to squeeze though lots of tiny channels and race around island groups, resulting in fast currents and tide rips. Some well-timed crossings of key areas got us into Telegraph Cove on a sunny (although Orca-free) morning, amisdt and armada of kayaking tour groups.
More highlights from this leg:
Just when it seemed like we would never meet any other through paddlers, a Kiwi named Chris rolled into Shearwater, heading from Vancouver up to Alaska. We had dinner in the cafe and traded tips about the areas we had just come from. We were also invited to have cake and wine on a beautiful wooden boat owned by a family from Seattle who spent their summers in the area. What a lovely way to kick off our departure!
Our departure from Shearwater brought the heaviest rain we've ever paddled in (or ever really just been outside in without having anywhere to dash into), along with the strongest wind. On our second night out our campsite (which would have been perfect under better conditions) was fully exposed to gusting 30-knot winds. We didn't sleep much that night as the wind roared through our camp and continually collapsed the tent on top of us.
As we progressed down Fitz Hugh Sound, the water became more and more exposed to open ocean swell, making for exciting paddling. We were thankful for the ridge of high pressure over Queen Charlotte Sound that made for sunny weather and calm conditions. Our campsite in Penrose Island Provincial Park brought more friendly company, as we shared Fury Cove with a number of sailboats seeking shelter for the night. One couple from Victoria was just as nervous about getting around Cape Caution as we were, which was kind of reassuring.
Finally, the morning came when it was time to swallow our anxiety and head out around Cape Caution. We were on the water at dawn to head out of Smith Sound as the swell gradually steepened to 10-foot rollers. We paddled up and down valleys of water that crashed into offshore rocks and reefs in a constant churn of white water. Just as we passed the worst of the swell and offshore obstacles, the fog swallowed us up. The rest of the world completely dissappeard, and there was nothing left but our kayaks and the rolling swell. We put our faith in our deck compasses and the GPS, which helped us stay far enough off shore to avoid the worst of the rebound waves. We kept the muffled sound of crashing waves on our left and monitored traffic on the VHF as we paddled into nothingness. We seemed to be going nowhere forever, stuck in some strange purgatory. We were the smallest specks in the world, but the world did not exist...At one point some porpoises came rolling along beside us--a friendly hello from some fellow mammals. Magically, we made it to our intended destination: a small cove protected from the swell by rocks and an islet. As we made our way inside, huge grins spread across our faces, and landing on the sandy beach felt like victory. We had finally made it around the cape! No matter what other obstacles lie ahead, we were past the biggest one. Cape Caution: Complete!
The following day was more of the same, although this time the fog defeated us. Paddling seemed more like directionless floundering than determined progress, and we turned around after what seemed like an eternity to seek shelter in a small cove. It wasn't until two in the afternoon when the fog finally burned off (which meant that the wind had picked up), and we were able to head into more protected waters.
If this all seems like pessimistic grumbling, know that we were in pretty high spirits for the majority of this leg. All of the weather issues just added to the adventure, and it seemed appropriate to have conditions kicked up a notch for this last remote stretch of BC coast. Every bit of this trip has had its challenges, and it's always interesting to see what the Inside Passage will be serving up next. We'll be heading out again tomorrow to find out!
This leg of the trip hit us with just about every possible kayaking obstacle: rain, wind, choppy seas, crazy currents, open ocean swell and breakers, and fog. Lots and lots of fog. It also included the rounding of Cape Caution, a section of the trip that we'd been anxiously dreading since we started planning this trip. Named by Vancouver after he almost lost his ship in the area, Cape Caution is fully exposed to the might of the Pacific, and a shelf that extends off shore steepens swell and makes for tricky conditions. Once around the cape, we still had some swell to battle and wind to contend with as we made our way down Queen Charlotte Strait toward the Broughton Islands. In the Broughtons, all of the water coming in from the north has to squeeze though lots of tiny channels and race around island groups, resulting in fast currents and tide rips. Some well-timed crossings of key areas got us into Telegraph Cove on a sunny (although Orca-free) morning, amisdt and armada of kayaking tour groups.
More highlights from this leg:
Just when it seemed like we would never meet any other through paddlers, a Kiwi named Chris rolled into Shearwater, heading from Vancouver up to Alaska. We had dinner in the cafe and traded tips about the areas we had just come from. We were also invited to have cake and wine on a beautiful wooden boat owned by a family from Seattle who spent their summers in the area. What a lovely way to kick off our departure!
Our departure from Shearwater brought the heaviest rain we've ever paddled in (or ever really just been outside in without having anywhere to dash into), along with the strongest wind. On our second night out our campsite (which would have been perfect under better conditions) was fully exposed to gusting 30-knot winds. We didn't sleep much that night as the wind roared through our camp and continually collapsed the tent on top of us.
As we progressed down Fitz Hugh Sound, the water became more and more exposed to open ocean swell, making for exciting paddling. We were thankful for the ridge of high pressure over Queen Charlotte Sound that made for sunny weather and calm conditions. Our campsite in Penrose Island Provincial Park brought more friendly company, as we shared Fury Cove with a number of sailboats seeking shelter for the night. One couple from Victoria was just as nervous about getting around Cape Caution as we were, which was kind of reassuring.
Finally, the morning came when it was time to swallow our anxiety and head out around Cape Caution. We were on the water at dawn to head out of Smith Sound as the swell gradually steepened to 10-foot rollers. We paddled up and down valleys of water that crashed into offshore rocks and reefs in a constant churn of white water. Just as we passed the worst of the swell and offshore obstacles, the fog swallowed us up. The rest of the world completely dissappeard, and there was nothing left but our kayaks and the rolling swell. We put our faith in our deck compasses and the GPS, which helped us stay far enough off shore to avoid the worst of the rebound waves. We kept the muffled sound of crashing waves on our left and monitored traffic on the VHF as we paddled into nothingness. We seemed to be going nowhere forever, stuck in some strange purgatory. We were the smallest specks in the world, but the world did not exist...At one point some porpoises came rolling along beside us--a friendly hello from some fellow mammals. Magically, we made it to our intended destination: a small cove protected from the swell by rocks and an islet. As we made our way inside, huge grins spread across our faces, and landing on the sandy beach felt like victory. We had finally made it around the cape! No matter what other obstacles lie ahead, we were past the biggest one. Cape Caution: Complete!
The following day was more of the same, although this time the fog defeated us. Paddling seemed more like directionless floundering than determined progress, and we turned around after what seemed like an eternity to seek shelter in a small cove. It wasn't until two in the afternoon when the fog finally burned off (which meant that the wind had picked up), and we were able to head into more protected waters.
If this all seems like pessimistic grumbling, know that we were in pretty high spirits for the majority of this leg. All of the weather issues just added to the adventure, and it seemed appropriate to have conditions kicked up a notch for this last remote stretch of BC coast. Every bit of this trip has had its challenges, and it's always interesting to see what the Inside Passage will be serving up next. We'll be heading out again tomorrow to find out!
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