[Paddlewise] TR: Barkley Sound, Canada

Five of us embarked on an abbreviated foray into Barkley Sound from the Toquart
Bay launch beginning Monday a week ago.  Our plans for a six-day trip were cut
short by a dismal forecast mid-week, but the trip was worth all the
border-crossing paranoia (unjustified) and travail of a marathon 14-hour
shuffle from home to Vancouver Island.  Moments of sanity prevailed, in the
wake of the events happening on the east coast of the US.

A breezy, rainy night ashore gave way to a mild, misty morning, and tide-man
Greg of Bellingham marked the spot on the sand where the waters would arrive as
we transferred gear from vehicles to yaks.  My son and his mother complemented
Greg, along with a new paddling buddy, computer guy Chris (check out his digs: 
http://www.behaviorengine.com/index.html).  This was Chris' first trip to
Barkley Sound, and a fine paddler, cook, and card-player he proved to be.

After a 10 am launch, glassy waters greased us over the short five miles to
Hand Island, occupied by a garrulous father-son duo, the first of only a dozen
paddlers we saw that day.  A short food break and we eased westward through the
Brabants, doing paddle-by investigations of the campsites on Dodd and Willis,
deserted except for a guy cell-phoning home from a large log.  Outside Willis
and onward through the chain linking Turret and Lovett, bouncing over small
swell, and finally sliding ashore on Clark, home to just six other paddlers.

A cool breeze goosed us into swift tent erection and kitchen construction, with
the cribbage beasts soon asconce a log, training newbie Chris in the
probabilities of double-double runs and his nibs.  (Chris won two of the first
three matches he had ever played, defeating the "experts" in the end by twenty
counters!  The experts were not pleased.)

Tofu stir fry and Nutella away, we were soon snoozing, some from too much
boozing.

Tuesday dawned foggy and damp, our neighbors announcing a "rest" day, and the
VHF telling of a series of gales coming our way in two days.  With weather like
that in our future, we beat feet out of camp by ten and slipped across Coaster
Channel, dodging foam slicks enroute to the lair of the pinnipeds.  And lair
they did -- some 1500 California sea lions and a couple dozen gigantic
Stellers, all lounging and rolling about, some on the rocks of Wouwer and
Batley, and a few in the waters alongside us.  Three motorized tour boats
cruised the grounds, their engines drowned out by the cacophony of barking,
groaning, and bellowing.

Chris and I dodged boomers and swells to check out a lagoon on the south side
of Wouwer, eventually joining the others on a pebble beach on Dicebox for a
quick lunch and gabble with some nice Folboters from Corvallis, OR.  As the
surge rose to sweep us away, we edged over to the west side of Effingham and
out to the south, admiring cliffs and sweeping views to the Deer Group.  Ian,
Belinda, and Chris had never been outside Effingham, and they were agog.  Greg
and I were stunned by its beauty, all over again.  The Folboters, who had beat
us off the beach by a bit, did the cliffs both directions, saying,  "This is
our favorite spot here!"

Greg, Chris, and I did an arch-paddle, and doodled around small boomers, while
the other two took a more stately approach outside the shore hazards, and soon
we were beached on Gilbert, noshing food and donning paddle jackets --
preparation for the return across Coaster Channel and its 12 knots of wind and
beam seas.  The crossing was a struggle for Belinda, sans rudder, but
eventually was won, our reward an enormous batch of brats and sauerkraut
prepared at Greg's hands.

Glogged by dinner, the VHF hit us again with gales in our future.  One more day
of decent weather, then the nasties would descend.  Our group decided to slip
out Wednesday, in trepidation that we would miss a wedding on Saturday if we
got windbound.  Others arrived as we left, some very surprised to hear of the
coming gales ("What's a gale?").

Wednesday's paddle out had to be one of the finest ever.  Lazy gunkholing and
smooth shell beaches, easy, smooth seas and tail winds behind us, sliding by
beautiful, deserted coves.  A reward for visiting this area on the "shoulder"
season.  All were entranced by a small, secret shell beach in the
Lovett-Trickett area, and we lounged there for a short hour, grokking at the
views.  Too soon, Hand was on us for a last break, and we smiled serenely
across to Toquart Bay.  As we hit the beach, the wind rose slowly, a harbinger
of rain that night on the drive home.

A 2 am border crossing at Blaine was completely uneventful, and unbelievably
quick.  Sleep in Bellingham renewed us ... or was it our three short days on
the water?

-- 
Dave Kruger
Astoria, OR
***************************************************************************
PaddleWise Paddling Mailing List - Any opinions or suggestions expressed
here are solely those of the writer(s). You must assume the entire
responsibility for reliance upon them. All postings copyright the author.
Submissions:     PaddleWise_at_PaddleWise.net
Subscriptions:   PaddleWise-request_at_PaddleWise.net
Website:         http://www.paddlewise.net/
***************************************************************************