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!