It Was the Best of Times...

For a year now I have looked across the Strait of Georgia at Lasqueti Island, with its backdrop of the much higher Texada Island and wondered what lay behind, between the two. For our first overnight sail we decided to find out.

This was to be the shakeout cruise, to get to know the boat and make the inevitable lists of things we could use, adjust where things are stowed, and generally see how things work. I had heard from a couple of people about a certain Jedediah Island that lay over there and was now a provincial park, described as "magic". So we packed up, provisioned for a two night cruise and off we went to make the 30 mile crossing of the Strait.

Orca sausages sunning themselves on the rocks

Paul Island - Texada in the background across Sabine Channel

It was a great time. The weather was great, lots of sun and warmth; the waters on the north side of Lasqueti saw many islands beside Jedediah, which were lovely and the tall mountainous facade of Texada across Sabine Channel was dramatic. We anchored in Scottie Bay the first night and as we got settled, we noticed that the dinghy looked a little weird. Turned out there was a gap between the inflatable part and the floor. It had come apart and as time went on, one of the wooden floorboard sections started floating across the Bay, adding to all the other deadhead debris that you have to watch out for when sailing in these waters. It appeared we were now towing a corpse, so no terra firma landings for us on this trip.

R.I.P.

 Speaking of deadheads, we saw a lot of these floating logs, that reveal themselves (hopefully before you hit them) to a greater or lesser degree depending on tides. We saw this boat salvaging a particularly huge one that had come to rest against the rocky shore of one of the islands. The boat is about 25 feet, the log must be 3 times that long.

The next day we sailed down through the islands, went around Jedediah, checked out the limited selection of protected anchorages, and generally had a great time. We went back to Scottie Bay for the second night, anchoring again in the outside, less protected area, away from the multiple masts in the inside. One couple exploring the bay in their dinghy came over to say hello. They mentioned that they had sailed their boat to New Zealand (and presumably back). They were smiling and appeared sane enough, although who could tell. My only reaction to that tale was, NIGHTMARE.

That night the water on the bay was smooth as glass and the sunset was outstanding. A seal and a couple of otters swam around us. Would have been completely peaceful but of course the humans had to fuck things up as usual, as somewhere, at some cottage way across the water, the faint boom bass of techno dance music played non-stop till the wee hours. Oh well, try not to let that rain on this particular parade. The next morning we headed back across the Strait of Georgia to our home base at Deep Bay marina. It had been fun but I was feeling like 2 nights is enough for me. I've had enough of this. I want a shower and my own bed.

However, a strange thing happened. Once back at home (all clean) I started pouring over the cruising guides and charts, thinking about the next trip.

To be continued...