kayakwriter
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After weeks of planning, we caught the 9AM ferry on Friday from Tsawwassen to Swartz Bay, and, as hoped, had our car on the upper deck so we didn’t have to leave the vehicle.
I’d rooftopped my personal kayak; my two accomplices in kayaking had rented boats from Pacifica Paddlesports. Peter met us as scheduled at their Canoe Cove operation. The usual game of tetris ensued as we figured out where everything should fit.
We got underway about 1PM. The current was setting strongly towards the south through Page, Iroquois and John Passages, so we opted to loop ‘round the south and east sides of Coal Island. Even here, we were breasting considerable counter-currents, but not as swift as those in the three narrow passages behind us.
One member of our merry band, perhaps a bit out of practise with charts and compass, mistook Stuart Island in the States for our destination, Portland Island. Fortunately, I was able to lead them onto the paths of Righteousness and Truth - or at least show them the way to the campsite. A good thing for a couple of reasons: none of us had our passports or COVID shots, and my two younger companions were easily paddling much faster than I, so it was nice to be contributing something that showed it wasn’t quite time to put the ol’ guy out on an ice flow yet.
There were some impressive standing waves just off Charmer Point on Coal Island (no pictures, ‘cos I selfishly wanted to stay upright.) On the run down to Brackman Island, we had the wind behind us - I wished I’d bought my Windpaddle sail. The sea was just lively enough to be fun and to have a good reason to be paddling kayaks rather than canoes. With skegs lowered, it was easy to avoid being broached by overtaking waves, and we got to surf a few.
We landed at Arbutus Point about 4PM (It’s typically about a 90 minute run from Canoe Cove, but we’d had all those countercurrents, plus me paddling like Tim Conway’s old man character in a kayak.)
Luck was with us: many of the sites had been taped off (because of COVID or for revegetation - it wasn’t clear.) With one other couple already occupying one site, there were just three tent pads left - one for each of us.
As is often the case, Arbutus Point was gusty, but fortunately it wasn’t raining, so we cooked and ate down on the shell beach on the west side of the point - out of the wind and in the last of the sunshine. Melissa treated us to meatballs, mashed tatties, and crisp green beans. Rhian broke out the rum and cokes, so the ambiance was semi-tropical. Later, there was a bit of bioluminescence - not great clouds of it, but tiny green sparks in the water where waves broke or we tossed shell fragments in.
We all slept in on Saturday, then had a vast brunch of scrambled eggs and pancakes, courtesy of Rhian. The cooler temps had thickened the pancake syrup to a taffy-like consistency, so we didn’t so much pour it on our pancakes as snip off bits to drop on them.
By mutual consent, we didn’t paddle today. Rhian and I wandered off on separate photo safaris, and Melissa went hiking and beachcombing. There were some drifting showers as we reconvened for supper in the evening, but with the wind light we were able to eat under the tarp at a picnic table. With some welcome assistance from Melissa, I prepared my go-to group supper of pasta with veggies and Chorizo, followed, after a suitable digestive pause, by steamed puddings with custard.
The wind blew quite strongly from the Northwest through most of the night, to the point that I was lying in my sleeping bag working out what scratch suppers and lunches we could make if we were weatherbound for an extra day. But just at dawn, it dropped to a calm, so that by the time we were ready to launch a bit before noon, it was perfect. The run down the east side of Portland was wonderful, with the sun shining and the current with us.
As we made the crossing from Hood Islet to Stranger Passage, the shifting bearing on my deck compass showed me we were being set to the east by the current. I let my companions know, and began ferrying to the west. Somehow they didn’t quite grasp the degree of correction to starboard that was required and they wound up paddling in a long arc, with a real sprint upcurrent to the mouth of the passage. Oh well, they’re young, with lots of strength and energy to burn; creaky old farts like me have to work smarter, not harder!
I was gratified to find I’d extrapolated the currents in Page Passage correctly from the predictions for Swanson Channel and Haro Strait, so we got a gentle free ride from Swartz Head back to Canoe Cove, with a little seal sight-seeing enroute.
After loading the car, we still had plenty of time before our 5PM ferry reservation, so we stopped to enjoy pizza on the patio at Porto Osteria in the Marina. Even with that civilized interlude, we rolled up to the ticket booth at about 3:45PM and were asked if we’d rather catch the 4PM ferry. Would we ever! Home an hour earlier than expected after an excellent weekend!
I’d rooftopped my personal kayak; my two accomplices in kayaking had rented boats from Pacifica Paddlesports. Peter met us as scheduled at their Canoe Cove operation. The usual game of tetris ensued as we figured out where everything should fit.
We got underway about 1PM. The current was setting strongly towards the south through Page, Iroquois and John Passages, so we opted to loop ‘round the south and east sides of Coal Island. Even here, we were breasting considerable counter-currents, but not as swift as those in the three narrow passages behind us.
One member of our merry band, perhaps a bit out of practise with charts and compass, mistook Stuart Island in the States for our destination, Portland Island. Fortunately, I was able to lead them onto the paths of Righteousness and Truth - or at least show them the way to the campsite. A good thing for a couple of reasons: none of us had our passports or COVID shots, and my two younger companions were easily paddling much faster than I, so it was nice to be contributing something that showed it wasn’t quite time to put the ol’ guy out on an ice flow yet.
There were some impressive standing waves just off Charmer Point on Coal Island (no pictures, ‘cos I selfishly wanted to stay upright.) On the run down to Brackman Island, we had the wind behind us - I wished I’d bought my Windpaddle sail. The sea was just lively enough to be fun and to have a good reason to be paddling kayaks rather than canoes. With skegs lowered, it was easy to avoid being broached by overtaking waves, and we got to surf a few.
We landed at Arbutus Point about 4PM (It’s typically about a 90 minute run from Canoe Cove, but we’d had all those countercurrents, plus me paddling like Tim Conway’s old man character in a kayak.)
Luck was with us: many of the sites had been taped off (because of COVID or for revegetation - it wasn’t clear.) With one other couple already occupying one site, there were just three tent pads left - one for each of us.
As is often the case, Arbutus Point was gusty, but fortunately it wasn’t raining, so we cooked and ate down on the shell beach on the west side of the point - out of the wind and in the last of the sunshine. Melissa treated us to meatballs, mashed tatties, and crisp green beans. Rhian broke out the rum and cokes, so the ambiance was semi-tropical. Later, there was a bit of bioluminescence - not great clouds of it, but tiny green sparks in the water where waves broke or we tossed shell fragments in.
We all slept in on Saturday, then had a vast brunch of scrambled eggs and pancakes, courtesy of Rhian. The cooler temps had thickened the pancake syrup to a taffy-like consistency, so we didn’t so much pour it on our pancakes as snip off bits to drop on them.
By mutual consent, we didn’t paddle today. Rhian and I wandered off on separate photo safaris, and Melissa went hiking and beachcombing. There were some drifting showers as we reconvened for supper in the evening, but with the wind light we were able to eat under the tarp at a picnic table. With some welcome assistance from Melissa, I prepared my go-to group supper of pasta with veggies and Chorizo, followed, after a suitable digestive pause, by steamed puddings with custard.
The wind blew quite strongly from the Northwest through most of the night, to the point that I was lying in my sleeping bag working out what scratch suppers and lunches we could make if we were weatherbound for an extra day. But just at dawn, it dropped to a calm, so that by the time we were ready to launch a bit before noon, it was perfect. The run down the east side of Portland was wonderful, with the sun shining and the current with us.
As we made the crossing from Hood Islet to Stranger Passage, the shifting bearing on my deck compass showed me we were being set to the east by the current. I let my companions know, and began ferrying to the west. Somehow they didn’t quite grasp the degree of correction to starboard that was required and they wound up paddling in a long arc, with a real sprint upcurrent to the mouth of the passage. Oh well, they’re young, with lots of strength and energy to burn; creaky old farts like me have to work smarter, not harder!
I was gratified to find I’d extrapolated the currents in Page Passage correctly from the predictions for Swanson Channel and Haro Strait, so we got a gentle free ride from Swartz Head back to Canoe Cove, with a little seal sight-seeing enroute.
After loading the car, we still had plenty of time before our 5PM ferry reservation, so we stopped to enjoy pizza on the patio at Porto Osteria in the Marina. Even with that civilized interlude, we rolled up to the ticket booth at about 3:45PM and were asked if we’d rather catch the 4PM ferry. Would we ever! Home an hour earlier than expected after an excellent weekend!
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