(continued….)
the morning in home bay started out with a flim by me (flim = flail + swim) that nobody else challenged - a break of character all around! flimming was soon replaced with fishing along the mouth of river’s inlet and whales breaching across the way. not one whole pass later we had ourselves a nice little salmon on board. with that success in our pocket, we turned across the mouth of the inlet and headed up fitz hugh sound. the spinnaker had a brief moment to shine, raised under the quizzical stare of a curious sea lion, before the wind really did die and the motor came on.
north up fitz hugh sound , spinnaker flying
we cruised north in the company of humpback whales. two were heading south, one was heading north, some were way over yonder puffing away. at one point something big huffed up right under our dinghy, but whatever it was must have startled itself and was submerged before we could get a close look. gave us a good scare though! i love seeing the whales, of course, but i do worry about crossing paths too close for comfort and their reaction to that.
the skies darkened somewhat as we approached kwakshua channel, and we could see white-capped waves racing out into the sound. we braced ourselves to make the turn, though it wasn’t so bad heading directly up wind. soon enough we were dropping anchor among many anchors in pruth bay, in front of the hakai research institute.
the evening was a mad scramble to gut, clean, and can the salmon while cooking dinner and taking the kids ashore to keep them occupied. it was already late and tempers were high. i have never canned salmon before, and i was concerned about food safety. my wires were really fried when i realized i had brought an enormous jar of baking soda instead of salt (how?), and unintentionally mixed it into what turned out to be the last of the salt. finally i just threw my hands up and did it my way: a tinse of vinegar, a splash of soy sauce, and a shake of liquid smoke, then fired up the canner to get the process going.
i had borrowed the canner from a friend, who told me it would make “a sound that will terrify the kids” - and he was exactly right! anything under pressure terrifies me, so i was keeping a close eye on the canner to make sure that everything was sealed and that it wasn’t going to explode. at this point the kids were back, and we were just waiting for dinner to finish when tssssssssssssssssssssssssh!!!!!!!! the canner blasted steam out the top in a deafening hiss, scaring us all out of our skins. unfortunately/fortunately, that’s exactly what it was supposed to do - every two minutes for the next two hours…. so we ate our dinner listening for the tell-tale pss-pss-pss before she would blow, then covered our ears to wait. bedtime was complicated that night.
to make up for the late and awkward bedtime, we had a splendid beach day the whole next day. the west side of calvert island has around ten beaches, all broad sandy crescents facing out to the open ocean. cutting through the grounds of hakai, we found the trail heading over to the outer shore. it was a short jaunt, with the promising sound of breaking waves calling us along. barely fifteen minutes later we were walking out from under the trees and onto a beautiful white sand beach.
it was much like tofino, except with no people (or very, very few) and with more of a slope, so there was a higher bank of dried sand that the summer seas wouldn’t reach. we plopped our stuff down and nuzzled into the warm, dry sand to soak up some sunshine. when we were hot enough (it actually did get hot!), we ran down the flat sandy shore and into the breaking wavelets, turquoise against the light sand under a blue sky. the kids frolicked for hours; sid was boogie-boarding with a borrowed board and having an absolute time of it. sage was more interested in digging in the sand, and found some beautiful purple olive snails that would amusingly suck themselves back down into the sand at the first glimpse of freedom.
aaron took the time to walk the length of the beach, then tapped me out so i could go too. there was one rock face that looked like an explosion paused in time, like a huge rocky throne thrusting up into the forest above. it was sloped in such a way to easily walk up, and grippy too. i climbed it for a higher view of the beach and basked for a moment with the sun on my face and warm rocks under my bum, lubbing land more than just a little. at the far end of the beach was a rocky outcropping with a sign suggesting not to hike around it. i hiked around it, climbing between steep rock walls with sand along the bottom, but not lingering long just in case a rogue wave really did come along. on the sea side of the rocks, a thick layer of mussels and anemones ringed the lower portion, dripping thickly with life; the sea shore is a marvel.
we stayed on the beach till supper, ruefully leaving the sand behind, pacified only by the gloomy weather heading our way from the open ocean; tomorrow would not be so nice.
and it was not - weather-wise, anyway. for the first time in a long time it really rained on us, a trend that was forecasted to go on for a week. we left pruth bay and slipped into hakai pass, then back out into the sound with a constant rain pouring down upon us. even in our rubbers we were damp quite quickly. our only consolation was that it was not cold - and there was wind. we flew the spinnaker again for a while, the only blip of colour in a grey world, but soon had to take it down as the winds increased. fortunately they were behind us and we cruised along smoothly.
we made a good twenty miles that day. at the end of it we tucked into codville lagoon, a wide bay with a narrow entrance. there is a marine park up at one end, so we dropped our anchor there and promised the kids a hike up to the lake. they had been so good all day, we were sure a hike would be the cherry on the cake.
it was not so. the hike was barely over a kilometer, yet sid complained disproportionately the whole way up. it is so challenging to bring someone to such an incredible place, then have them complain about minor challenges once you get there. i know the kids have been going through a lot - major changes in lifestyle, a small living space, nobody else for company - but we always hope that they’ll see the beauty in where we are and what we’re doing. well, not so. sid especially finds it difficult to go with the flow, and my nerves were starting to fray on the matter. fortunately, before all hope was lost, we made it to the lake.
sager lake was a paradise. a pinkish-orange sand beach stretched around the near side for close to a kilometer, with trees and brush to its back and a long, dark green lake to its fore. a huge mountain reached up behind with a light waterfall pouring down a lonesome bluff. the extended shore alternated between rock, sand, and brush as far as we could see - it’s a pretty big lake - with the orange sand a curious and unexpected break in the usual grey and green.
we all raced to strip off our clothes and jump in. the water was warm under the rain and we all enjoyed a wonderful nudey swim. it brought all of our spirits up; even getting dressed in a hail of black flies didn’t dampen our mood. a good swim made the hike back down better, too. the trail itself was a wonder: boardwalks through a dense, spongey bog with scrambly root ladders and rolling rocks - and toads! a sign at the beginning of the trail warned us to watch for toadlets, and we did see one on our way - so cute!
even with our moods lifted, we had to have a serious talk back at the boat as to whether or not we should carry on. it finally dawned on me that maybe i am being selfish to drag the kids along on my dream. i had all these hopes of us being an adventurous family, but i’m not sure if it counts when some members aren’t totally willing. it certainly makes it hard on us, the decision makers, to feel like we’re forcing them through this trial, and worrying that we’ll scar them for life by pressing our wishes upon them. hopefully we haven’t already, erk!
we decided to give it one more day, at least, and had another lake day. it was pouring rain again, but we huffed up there for the promise of swimming and without complaint. i wanted to explore the lake, so i brought the inflatable kayak ashore and made a makeshift tump strap to heft it up the hill. it wasn’t easy, but it was totally worth it. by the time i got up there and inflated the kayak, aaron had a tarp rigged and a fire going on the beach.
i paddled across to the far shore under the mountain, cruised back to a secluded beach on the other side, then skirted the rocky-bushy shore back to “our” beach, eyes peeled for wildlife all along. i tried my hand at fishing, but had no luck. aaron, on the other hand, was five minutes out in the kayak before coming back with a beautiful little cutthroat trout in his hands. we spitted it on a forked branch and roasted it over the fire, gratefully snacking on its tiny flesh in this wondrous place.
perhaps the most intriguing thing about the beach was the fresh wolf tracks in the sand. our hike up the day before showed a few crisp, clear tracks in the sand that must have been made just before we arrived; it had been raining earlier and they weren’t washed out at all. further along the beach were running deer tracks. this day, while aaron was cooking the trout, i wandered down to where a few creeks came out, following huge rained-out paw prints in the sand. it looked like the wolf had been chasing down the deer - i hoped that we hadn’t spoiled the hunt with our loud entrance the day before.
as i walked back to the fire, i placed my feet in the wolf tracks. it thrilled me to step where wolves had been, to knowingly put my feet exactly where their feet had been the day - if not hours - before. though this place is likely a hub for local people, it felt truly wild on this rainy day, the only sounds other than us coming from the burbling streams and the gushing waterfall and the rain gently hissing on the surface of the lake. i know i keep saying this, but aaron said it too: this was an absolute gem of a place, and the most amazing place we have been so far on this trip.
scenes in the sand
after one last brave dip, we wrapped up our soggy scene and hiked back down to the shore. the wind had picked up quite a lot (the forecasted gale was another reason we had stayed the day in the lagoon), and rafiki swung on her anchor. we climbed aboard, hung our dripping things, and chatted over a sushi dinner (with canned salmon!) about what would come next.
we decided at the very least to continue to bella bella, mainly because we could do with some fresh provisions, and left the next morning. apparently our conversations about behaviour had little effect, because the kids were right back at it, and i finally broke.
it had been a few weeks of deteriorating behaviour, then four days in a row of unacceptable outbreaks, serious talks, and the reality of cancelling this trip - my dream. i had woken up in a positive mood, but i didn’t have the capacity to make it through another argument, and i broke down. i wrapped up in my rain gear and sat in the cockpit, bawling in the rain while the tarpaulin meant to shield us from the rain sloshed water on me from above. i didn’t care; i couldn’t care. i was berating myself for whatever failures i’ve made as a parent that got me here, for the choice i made to bring kids on a trip that maybe really isn’t age-appropriate, and facing the reality of cancelling my dream. i could hardly stand to look at the world around me, as powerful as it was. the thick streams roaring off the shore just reminded me of my own heart-wrenching feelings of failure and defeat.
maybe i was being a tad dramatic, but sometimes a person just needs to have a breakdown, amiright? i don’t know about y’all, but i feel a lot better when i say all the things that are in my head out loud and expel the energy. i ranted to aaron and raged and said a bunch of things that probably weren’t 100% true, but i got the energy out, and as we reached bella bella, i felt a lot better.
i was finally distracted by what i saw: why were half the dwellings in old bella bella falling into the water? what was that perfectly good boat doing washed up on the shore? why are there so many unused docks and can we tie up to them? is that a totem pole all covered in ferns at the edge of the woods? (no, it was not.) curiosity overcame despair, and i realized that to make it here was actually a great accomplishment, all in all.
we could have anchored out, but we opted for some comfort and luxury - and shore power to dry things out a bit. we came into the shearwater marina, which is also kind of a town. there’s a huge marine centre for boat work, a grocery store, a convenience/stuff store/cafe, a pub, and most importantly: a laundromat with showers.
after we got ourselves docked and fed, i headed up to do laundry and take a shower. we had been at anchor for eight days, and with the mounting tensions on board, it was a relief to have an hour to myself. i was soothed by the hot water of the (too short) shower and emotionally destroyed an ice cream, all in the name of self care.
sitting here in the hot, nearly-dry boat with the kids asleep, a load of groceries stowed, and a good cry over and done with, i feel inspired to keep going. the kids both say they want to continue, even though their words and behaviour sometimes say otherwise. when we really dig into it, when we tell them what it will be like, that we are likely to be wet from here on out, that we’ll have long days ahead of us, that it won’t exactly be comfortable but hopefully worth the struggle, they still seem willing to persevere. i think i have to see their outbursts the same as mine, as a way to expel energy instead of as a targeted response. i know they have adventurous spirits, and even so i know we are asking a lot of them to do things kids don’t normally do; i am grateful for all they have tolerated so far.
and even if we do turn back, a friend kindly reminded me today that it’s about the journey, not about the destination. making it to bella bella is a huge accomplishment. even though i’m barely two steps further north on the coast than i’ve ever been, we’ve still been out as a family for over two months, seeing things both familiar and new. i hope we can continue to find new and thrilling places, and i just have to accept that it may not matter in which direction they lie.
❤️❤️❤️❤️