July 5, 2020. Klaskino Anchorage to Scow Cove, the Bunsbys. 35 NM. 0630 to 1330
After a week or more of planning, and several days waiting for weather, I passed another big milestone today. I managed to get past the Brooks Peninsula, and all went according to plan.
It was another early morning, with the anchor up and the boat moving by 0630. I motored out past the reefs guarding the Klaskino anchorage, and I was encouraged to see some fishing boats in the distance. It was nice to know I wasn’t the only person in the world.
The swells got bigger as I headed out to sea, but there was little wind, as was forecasted. Off in the cloudy distance, the sea carried on toward the horizon, and I realized if I just kept pointed in that direction, eventually I’d hit Japan. Instead, I turned south toward the Brooks Peninsula, jutting out into the Pacific.
This way lies Japan
I spent an uneventful morning motorsailing toward Cape Cook, and watching the peninsula grow closer and closer. Solander Island off the northwest tip of the peninsula reminded me of the island Luke Skywalker found himself living on at the end of the Star Wars saga. Rocky, pointy, and windswept, with grass clinging to the few spots that weren’t too steep. I wondered how they had managed to get the warning marks on the top of the island. It would have been a tricky landing and a climb from a boat.
Cape Cook and Solander Island
As I rounded the point the wind came up, and I managed to pull out the genoa. With the main I had already raised in the anchorage, I sailed along slowly at 3 to 4 knots, enjoying the silence without the engine. The couple of fishing boats I had seen stayed north of the peninsula, so I was soon alone again. I had the stereo on to keep me company as I made my way slowly along, adjusting course to keep the wind on my port quarter, and keep the sails from jibing.
Once around the peninsula, I toyed with the idea of continuing south to Kyoquot Sound, but realized that would make for a very long day. As it was, I would be about 6 hours to the Bunsbys, which felt like enough sailing. The wind died as I came in behind Brooks Peninsula, and I had to start the engine again in Checleset Bay. As I neared the rocky islets dotting the inner part of the Bay, I dropped the mainsail, and motored up past Battle Bay. I could see some big beaches at the head of the bay that looked like they would make for interesting exploring, but the wind was blowing directly in there, so I carried on to Gay Passage, and turned in toward Scow Cove in the middle of the Bumsbys.
I wound past shallow spots and rocks, keeping a close eye on the chart plotter as I made my way in. It took me a couple of tries to get the anchor set in a reasonable spot in Scow Cove. It was either quite deep, with limited swing room for adequate scope, or shallow, with a rocky point nearby.
Eventually I got things situated, and went below for a late lunch of canned chili and cheese. The sun had finally come out, and for what felt like the first time in a long time, it started to feel like summer. I threw the paddleboard in the water, and grabbed the InReach and VHF, and set off to explore the Bunsbys.
Natural paddleboard dock in the Bunsbys
I started by paddling south from the boat. I thought I would reach the head of the anchorage and be turned around quickly, but a maze of passages between small islands opened up, and I wound in and out, trying to keep track of the direction the boat lay behind me. A couple of signs dotted a few of the points of the island, and I hopped off the board to check one out. It was a warning about beach closures. Who exactly they were warning, I have no idea. The signs were buried back amongst the islands where only small boats could go. And there is no one around as far as I can see. I guess they were all there to warn me? Heeding the warning, I refrained from harvesting shellfish from the beach, and hopped back on the board.
The writing on this sign was so small, you had to get on shore to read it
As I got further from the boat, a passage magically opened up in front of me that took me back to Scow Bay, saving me from having to retrace my route. The paddle boarding in among the islands here is fantastic, and is worth the trip in itself. Gliding silently along through the water, with only the dip of the paddle to mark my progress, it was quiet enough to hear the hiss of an eagle’s wings as he flew low over my head.
Eagles and otters are everywhere.
I paddled back past the boat, and out into Gay Passage, where the wind from the open ocean was blowing in, making it hard to work against it. I crossed the passage over to the other main anchorage in the Bunsbys, South Nook. This anchorage had some low rocks breaking the swell at the head, but was otherwise open to the ocean. I pushed against the wind right up to the rocks, and then took a break, sitting down on the board. As I took out my camera to take a picture, I heard a loud “snort” a few feet away as a seal popped up for air. I figured he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him, and he hadn’t heard me, since I was sitting without paddling.
Vindictive seal, or curious puppy?
I didn’t think much of it as I turned downwind to head back to the boat. But then I realized I kept hearing the same loud “snuff” behind me every few minutes, as the seal followed along behind me. At first it occurred to me that it would take something exactly the size of a vindictive harbour seal to knock me off my board and put me in the water. After a while, though, it seemed like he was just curious, and was following me home like a stray puppy looking for a treat. He followed me all the way back to the boat, and the last I saw of him, he was looking at me as I got back on Monashee.
On the stereo: Green Grass and High Tides by the Outlaws. “Green grass and high tides forever…”
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