The Seattle Boat Show seminar schedule is now posted. We’ll be presenting some of our favorite destinations between Victoria and Bella Bella, along with and tips and techniques for improved boating safety and comfort, at 1pm on Saturday January 24^th. And we’ll be signing copies of Cruising the Secret Coast, our Waggoner sister publication, at the Armchair Sailor booth from 3-5pm on Saturday the 24^th and Saturday the 31^st.

One area we’ll highlight is Drury Inlet, our favorite destination in the Broughtons. Part of Drury Inlet’s attraction is ruins from an entire era of coastal logging, including springboard- scarred stumps, a large, well-preserved steam donkey, 1920s logging trucks, and a logging railway. Logging roads—both old and new—extend inland to tranquil lakes and to mountain ridges with wonderful saltwater views. Throughout these woods, contemporary independent loggers meld the past with the present as they salvage cedar from century-old stumps.

On Monday we passed Anacortes and went through Swinomish Channel (area map) during a significant, and poorly forecast, wind event, with an amazing variety of weather. The barometer gained 10 mb in 4 hours and peak winds approached 60 knots.

We didn’t think we’d ever stop at Pirates Cove Marine Park, at the north end of British Columbia’s Gulf Islands. The BC Marine Parks Guide bills it as one of the more popular parks in the Gulf Islands, with room for 75 boats. This is remarkable, given that the cove from shore to shore is about 730 by 1275 feet, and only 485 by 910 feet outside the 2-meter contour line where we safely could swing. Stern-tie rings line the shore, allowing many more boats to anchor than if they all swung free.

Normally we save the busy summer anchorages such as this one for the winter, when fewer boats are about. We hadn’t yet visited Pirates Cove though, even in the winter, because of the holding. Most cruising guides describe the holding at Pirates Cove as poor, mentioning fire drills of boats dragging anchor whenever the wind came up. In the winter, when gale-force winds are common, good holding with room for plenty of scope is especially important. We always felt we should try Pirates Cove anyway, and this year we noticed that the guides also mentioned a gooey and sticky mud bottom. We were skeptical that the holding would be poor in that kind of bottom, so we finally gave it a try.

After all those years of avoiding it, Pirates Cove turned out to be an ideal winter anchorage. The holding really isn’t poor, it’s just poor on short scope. On a 5:1 scope, the holding was good. We didn’t budge, even with gale-force southeasterly winds blowing. That scope, however, reduces Pirates Cove from a 75-boat anchorage to about 3-boat one.

We’d arrived during a period of unseasonably cold below-freezing temperatures and lots of snow. We had to dig out a spot to tie off the dinghy, and the ramp was about a foot deep in snow.

Not far down the trail, we noticed a narrow channel had been cut down the hillside along the surface of the snow.  From way up high above the trail, the channel swooped through the trees, crossed the trail, and went right down to the water. It was about 8-10” wide, too narrow for a snowboard, and the path through the trees and branches wouldn’t allow anything larger than about 6” high to pass anyway. Pacific Coast Mammals supported our theory that playful river otters made them: “Makes river bank slides 30 cm wide. Snow slides show track marks. When on land, spends most of its time frolicking, chasing tail, or playing tag.”

We found snow slides all over the island. The most impressive slide started at the top of a very steep flight of stairs and went all the way to the bottom. That must have been some ride. Cowabunga!

Animal tracks were everywhere, but ours were the only human footprints ashore. Besides its beauty, the snow gave us a glimpse into the area’s extensive and varied animal life. In some cases, it appeared that the otter Super Bowl had taken place—a veritable highway of tracks led to and from a certain point. We realized it must be one of their dens. We’d never have noticed it without the snow.

Mount Tzouhalem is the 1,500-foot bluff directly west of Genoa Bay. We’ve eyed it every time we’ve anchored in the bay, but this year, we finally climbed it. We’d arrived on a cold, crisp winter day, after a recent snowfall. The weather was cold enough to freeze the surface water around the marina.

Partway up, icicles had formed on an unusually large boulder.

From the top, we could see across Samsun Narrows to Mount Maxwell on Saltspring Island, south into Genoa Bay and towards Saanich Peninsula and westward into the Cowichan River valley. Wow.

On the way back down, we stopped at Skinner Bluff. The views were almost as good as from the top.

Entry, anchoring and other notes:

The rough trail map below is drawn from memory. The solid line is the main route to the top. The trail is rather steep, and has occasional blazes marking the route. We were following footsteps in the snow, so we’re not sure how hard the trail is to follow otherwise.

We learned about the trail from British Columbia's Gulf Islands: Afoot & Afloat  (the Afoot and Afloat books are excellent on-board references). The unmarked trailhead is between a utility box and a private property fence, where Genoa Bay Road bends around to follow the waterline and intersects with Saltspring Road. Follow the fence around the private property, first west and then southwest towards Skinner Point. (We saw blazes in the trees west of the fence corner, but didn’t investigate.)

Where the dashed line starts is a fork in the trail with a sign pointing left to Cowichan Bay and right to the hill top. We took the hilltop route. Another fork led to Skinner Bluff to the right and the hilltop to the left. We again took the hilltop route. On the return, the footsteps we were following took the dotted line shortcut route to  Skinner Bluff. We’re not sure if this was a trail, but the going was relatively easy and open. We returned from Skinner Bluff on solid line that met the regular trail at the second fork. The hike to Skinner Bluff is easier and less steep than going all the way to the top, and the views are still impressive.

A big winter storm swept through the region yesterday. The barometer fell hard as the storm approached: from 1032 at 9pm the night before, to 1009 at 5am yesterday, down to 988 by 3pm yesterday afternoon. We recorded gusts to nearly 50 knots as the storm intensified.

The pressure slope hit 5.8 around 2pm, equal to the worst we’ve seen. (Environment Canada originally reported the pressure slope at a booming 6.2, but later revised it to 5.8. We’re not sure why.)

We had anchored in Port Madison the night before the storm hit and had been planning to cross the Strait of Juan de Fuca the next day for Victoria But with storm force winds predicted, we decided to go up the inside of Whidbey Island instead.  The winds were blowing about 20 knots from the south when we left. Conditions weren’t too bad with the waves with us, but our autopilot struggled a bit to maintain course in that following sea. We’d decided to make an early stop in Oak Harbor around 1pm. Conditions in Saratoga Pass deteriorated, with the storm nearly at its worst, as we neared Oak Harbor. The winds were gusting to nearly 50 knots and the waves were about 8-10 feet and closely packed.

To add to the excitement, the approach was littered with crab traps that were afloat only in the troughs and invisible until we were almost on top of them. As we neared Oak Harbor, we could see waves crashing over Buoy “2” at the mouth and were concerned that conditions in the shallower entry channel might be even worse. Fortunately, the waves diminished considerably once inside the channel. It’s all relative though—waves were crashing against the northwest shore of the harbor and it appeared several drivers had stopped their cars nearby to take in the show.

We tucked away at the head of Oak Harbor on 10:1 scope with plenty of room and slept like babies.