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From: Warner Family <hmgwarner_at_shaw.ca>
subject: [Paddlewise] Mayne Island
Date: Wed, 16 Jul 2003 22:47:28 -0700
Last Sunday six members of the Victoria Canoe and Kayak Club and a couple 
of people well known to the Paddlewise community circumnavigated Mayne 
Island in the heart of the Canadian Gulf Island's of British Columbia.

As Sergeant Friday would say, here's the facts. "Just the facts."

The usual suspects were rounded up just after 4 AM (Hans Voerman, John 
Levey, Bill Hillsden, Steve Davis, Doug Lloyd and Gordin Warner)  We call 
ourselves the Fat Bastard Kayaking Gang.  John and Hans are on probation 
until they bulk up.  At this time in the morning we looked like the dregs 
of an all night beer bash.  I've seen more credible looking characters in a 
murder line up.

Anyway after checking  alibis.  Lloyd said he knocked off a new roof rank 
in a couple of hours at the wood working shop that would carry four 
boats.  Darned if he wasn't telling the truth.  Pulling into the car park 
in the pre dawn light there it was a sharp looking rack made of ash sitting 
on top of his van.  The center slot contained the venerable old Nordkapp - 
Blustery Day.  Some boats, such as Levey's Jubilee, are sweet and 
beautiful.  Doug's on  the other hand is a well modified and functional 
sled that tips the scales at over 90 pounds.

Now this gang is not the sharpest, but the lights were burning bright when 
Doug suggested they could put three more boats up on the Caravans 
roof.  Five men turned to look at his Dodge and five thoughts burned clear 
and clean.  "What's the load capacity of the roof of a Dodge Caravan?"

It was too early in the morning to be running experiments in metallurgy so 
with only a few minutes to spare the gang sorted out the boats onto three 
cars - just to cheat the ferry corporation out of a $100 bucks.  Then they 
raced off to catch the 0545 ferry from  Victoria to Mayne Island.

By 0730 they were on the water and by 0740 they were headed out into a nice 
and comfortable 5.1 knot ebb racing into Active Pass.  This early on Sunday 
morning Active Pass is not very active.  By hugging the shore the gang 
cleared the Pass and turned the corner at Georgina Point.

This is where we got on the train.  Riding the ebb south we raced down the 
Strait of Georgia towards the end of Mayne.  While the west side of Mayne 
Island is familiar to anyone who's ever ridden the BC ferry from Vancouver 
to Sidney the east side was new territory for most of us.  I was surprised 
to see it's been heavily developed for much of the area round David 
Cove.  Why do people who are fortunate enough to own a piece of heaven 
spoil it by building  monster homes on it.  I'm not just talking big - but 
big and ugly.  Luckily some how the Edith Point peninsula has escaped this 
development onslaught.  Probably because it's owned by one person.  It 
could be the people who built a beautiful, large but understated home that 
blends into the environment at the end of the point.

With Bill setting the pace we turned the next corner at Edith Point. Bill 
had the bow pointed toward Lyall Habour; home of one of the best pubs in 
the Gulf Islands.  I called out to reminded him that it was just past nine 
and the coffee wouldn't even be on yet.  So we turned back and headed into 
Campbell Bay to explore the other side of the Edith Peninsula.  This is a 
mini version of west side of Valdes Island where the wind and the waves 
have carved the sandstone into a Salvador Dali like sculpture.  Just like 
the bigger cliffs up on Valdes the cliffs here are pocketed with harder 
rock the erodes much slower.  A famous west coast guide says the formations 
reminder her of women's nipples.

I wasn't staring. Really I wasn't.

After clearing Campbell Bay we slipped past Curlew Island into Horton 
Bay.  I slowed the gang down again as I had to check out some launch sites 
for a trip coming up later in the summer.  We stopped at a deserted looking 
spot.  Steve pulled out his smokes while Doug and I of the small bladders 
made for the bush.  As we were climbing back into the kayaks the property 
owner made his way down the jetty. Without a word spoken between him and us 
we pushed off.

Anchored in Horton Bay is the perfect fixer upper. A nice 30 foot sail boat 
that's been seized by the authorities. Actually the only way to fix her 
would be with a fire. I'm sure the boat must have a few good stories in her 
it's just a shame to see her anchored there fore lone and forgotten.

We still had the current with us so we had a good ride through Robson 
Channel.  Here we decided to round St.John Point and head for a small beach 
about a mile up the west side of the island for what we decided would be 
brunch.

Just as we rounded the point we were overtaken by a Zodiac.  It was the guy 
from the dock where we'd stopped in Horton Bay.  He'd raced out to ask 
where we were headed.  We told him we were heading for Miners Bay to which 
he replied that there was a Gale Warning for Haro Straight later in the 
afternoon.

Without a nano second pause, Steve piped up and said, "That sounds great."

The poor guy. His face fell.  Here he was draped in St. Christopher's 
cloak, having raced out to help the unwary paddlers cross the waters, only 
to find a bunch of ingrates thrilled by the possibility of a good ole 
blow.  We thanked him for his concern and said our good bys.

Nevertheless John and I switched over to the weather channel to get the 
update at 10 AM.  We're not sure what or when good St. Christopher got his 
weather report but there was not a word about a Gale.  In fact it barely 
blew at all.

We also made the beach at 10 AM.  This is significant because when I put 
the plan together I figured it would take at least 6 and possibly 10 hours 
depending on who joined the paddle.  We'd just covered the first 10 
nautical miles in 2.5 hours.  Six paddlers all in sync, all about the same 
speed.

We spent about 45 minutes on the beach swapping lies and telling 
stories.  Doug talked about his writing for Sea Kayaker and how he and Doug 
Alderson figure there is more money in magazines then books.  Still Steve 
and I decided we'd write a book about pubs you can paddle to.  We'll do the 
research but we're looking for a temperance man to do the writing.

Back on the water we anticipated the turn in the current.  It was suppose 
to turn at 1057 and I'm sure it did in Active Pass which was still some 
seven miles away.  Unfortunately for us there's this little thing around 
here that old timers call - the fill.  The big basins fill up first then 
spill into the smaller ones.  The water doesn't read the charts or the tide 
and current tables and being lazy takes the easy course first.  This means 
that when you expect it to be going one way as per the tables it decides to 
go the other.

It was no real problem, we just shifted gears.  It's great to paddle with 
folks who have more then one speed.  The trip up to Helen Point and Active 
Pass was uneventful.  But Active Pass!  What a rush!

We, through no planning or fore thought, managed to enter the pass just 
before two of the larger mainland ferries.  The flood was running just over 
4 knots. As we cleared the light at Helen Point the outbound ferry from 
Vancouver went by.  Without a signal everyone raced out to the center of 
the pass to play on the prop wash. In such a confined area the sea was 
turned into a mini maelstrom.  Steve estimated the waves were three to four 
feet.  There was no discernable pattern they'd come from all directions 
meaning you'd be surfing one way one minute then be twisted about the 
next.  Best of all the waves did not lose there force.  I suppose it was 
the confined area and the rebound but it seem we played there off the light 
in the wash for about 20 minutes.

We hung out in the pass for an hour but we never managed to find the same 
conditions again.  Doug related how he use to paddle out to Active Pass 
when he was a wee lad and play in the current then catch the ferry for a 
free ride home.  That must have been a long time ago cause he's no wee lad 
now. ;-)

After landing back at the dock we had time for a brew at the Sweet Water, a 
fine pub, where John embarrassed himself by misidentifying the English 
waitress as being from London.  Turns out she was from Underthesheetshire 
or some such place.  Don't worry John, I thought she was from Oz.

As we waited for the return ferry the crowd was entertained by a pod of 
Orcas swimming by right where we'd been paddling hours earlier.  The Fat 
Bastards hardly gave them a glance as we were so engrossed in talking about 
kayaks and kayaking.  Sometimes I think it's the 'yaking' part we like best.

The above account is a true story. Some of the facts may be fiction but 
since there were no innocents involved none of the names were changed.

Gordin Warner  
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