Tuesday, August 4, 2020

People are strange, when you’re a stranger…

July 14, 2020. Hot Springs Cove to Bottleneck Cove. 8.0 NM.

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I should have realized something was up when I saw Outbreak leaving Hot Springs cove at 0710 this a.m. The fishing boats that had come in had already gone as well, and I couldn’t believe the fact that there was no one around. I had gotten up early in case there was tourist traffic coming to the hot springs, and wanted to get there before any crowds arrived, but it looked there might not be anyone around at all. It was a beautiful sunny morning, and it looked like it was my lucky day.

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Outbreak vacating Hot Springs cove early

I tossed the paddleboard in the water, and did a brief tour around the anchorage, checking out the house barge that someone had moored in the bay. It was a pretty interesting project. I don’t know what the logistics are of something like that, but I think it might be something that people can just put in the water without any special permission, if it’s classified as a boat. There are lots of derelict boats sitting in bays all over the coast, and I think it might be a bit of a legal loophole. They are kind of an eyesore, and sort of annoying for other boaters, but on the other hand, I guess there’s something to be said for the independence of thought and spirit that would lead someone to stake their claim like that.

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House barge in Hot Springs Cove

Anyway, after paddling around for a bit, I made my way over to the empty dock, where the boardwalk out to the hot springs starts from. I tied up my paddleboard, but even as I was getting off the board, I could see the closed sign at the top of the dock. I walked up to it to confirm, but sure enough, there was a solid reason why there were no tourists or other boats around. It doesn’t make a lot of sense from a medical perspective, given how other things are open, but I wasn’t about to argue. And even if I’d wanted to, there was no one around to argue with.

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Another sign of the times

I headed back to my board, consoling myself with the idea of a nice explore by SUP on a beautiful morning. Also, hot springs aren’t really my favorite thing in the world, and it seemed wrong to be exploring them on my own anyway. If I really want to get to a hot spring, I can always come back with Sara sometime, who would really enjoy it. Or, for that matter, there are hot springs near where we live that we could explore some time.

I was thinking all these thoughts, when I heard the roar of an engine coming up behind me. At first, I thought it was just a fishing boat heading out of the inlet, but it throttled down as it got closer. I turned the board, a bit intimidated by this boat that could knock me into the water with just it’s wake. The boat had come out of the first nations settlement across the bay, and the two fellows inside appeared to be members of the Ahousat nation. “You know the springs are closed, right?” they yelled over. “Yes”, I replied. “I just saw the sign.”

“They sent us over to find out what you’re doing,” came back.

“I thought I’d explore a bit by paddleboard. Maybe check out that beach over there. You don’t know when the spring are going to be open, do you?”

“No idea,” was the reply. Then they headed off out to sea, seemingly satisfied that I wasn’t going to cause any mischief.

I continued on with my paddle, and went up a little tidal stream, where I saw an eagle flying low, and lots of starfish sliding under my board. But the interaction stuck in my head. Maybe I was overanalyzing it, being alone and not having much human contact recently. But the more I thought about it, the more I felt decidedly unwelcome in the cove. At the very least, I wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of people watching me from the village, and coming over to check on me. I decided that the beauty of being on a sailboat is the ability to move somewhere else if I’m not happy where I am, so I headed back to the boat and prepared to raise the anchor.

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An eagle guarding the tidal stream across from the government dock

As I did so, I heard a friendly voice from the water. “Hi!” called a woman in a kayak, who was paddling over. “It’s so nice to see a sailboat in the cove! And there was another one here last night! We haven’t seen many this year. In fact, until now, I think we’ve only had two all year.”

We chatted a bit, and it turned out she was a summer resident. She said there was a large area of land up the cove across from the First Nations village that was largely undeveloped, but had several houses. She was from Victoria, but spent most of her summer up here. We chatted about my trip, and she made it clear that, from her perspective, I was welcome to be there. I got the impression she had seen my earlier interaction, and was trying to make up for it. She alluded to the fact that there are some longstanding tensions between the first nations residents and the large number of tourists that find their way into the cove every year.

It was nice to have a friendly conversation, and made me feel a little less misanthropic. I thanked her for her kind words, and taking the time to chat. I briefly contemplated hanging around, but I decided there were lots of places to explore, and there was no need to make any kind of statement. Hot Springs Cove is nice enough, but other than the Hot Springs, the only real benefit is the ready access to cell service, which I didn’t really need, so I raised the anchor, and headed further into Clayoquot Sound.

As I motored along with a slight wind behind me, for the first time in my trip, I managed to take my jacket off and just be in a T-shirt. Could it be that summer has finally arrived on the West Coast? Who knows? For today, though, it is here, and I am going to enjoy it while it lasts.

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After more than a month, warm enough to sail in a T-shirt.

I was pretty tired after my long day yesterday, and I didn’t sleep all that well last night, so I only went a short distance, to a place called Bottle Neck cove, named for it’s very narrow, but deep entrance. Once inside, I was back to my more usual routine of being the only person and boat in sight. In fact, I only saw one other boat since leaving Hot Springs cove, and there have been no sounds of engines or people since I got here. All I can hear is the small stream emptying into the cove off my starboard side, and the sound of the wind in the rigging and the birds in the trees. Every so often, a hummingbird buzzes through the cockpit to check me out.

It took me a couple of tries to get anchored in the middle of the cove so that I was comfortable with the swing room on both sides. After I had the anchor down, I cooked up lunch, enjoying another meat and cheese quesadilla, this time with bacon, too.

This afternoon, I put the paddleboard back in the water, and pushed uphill against the wind and the current back out the bottle neck. I’ve learned from experience that its always a good idea to paddle upwind when you first set out. The paddle back was a downwind ride. I got a solid hour of exercise exploring the cove and the entrance.

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Exploring Clayoquot by paddleboard

Now the tide is up, and there is a steady, cool breeze into the cockpit as I write this. I have opened up the entire enclosure for the first time this year, and the wind is coming right through. The sun is still up, and there are only a few high clouds to be seen. I’m back on my own again, but in this weather, it feels liberating, and not as intimidating as it did when it was raining and freezing out. In fact, this is kind of the dream. It would be nice to have someone to share it with, but it’s pretty amazing on my own, too.

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