“The Sea… holds one in its net of wonder forever.”

It is hard to believe it’s been a year since we returned to life in Seattle. We are fortunate beyond measure and integrating back into work, school, and home was straightforward. But part of our hearts are irrevocably tied to the sea now - as Jacques Cousteau said “The Sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” We’ve taken short weekender trips over the course of the year, but August was our extended summer vacation and a chance to live on the water for a bit.

Boats need work and this year was no exception. We had a reasonably long punch list to head out and we managed to get through most of it. A hatch had cracked. The VHF radio has quit being able to broadcast. All stories of boats involve bouts of repair and bouts of lamenting about the difficulty of such. So, suffice it to say, we are no exception to that. But it isn’t that interesting.

Provisioned up, we headed north for the promised warm waters in the northern reaches of the Strait of Georgia. If you’ve read this blog before, you know we don’t move fast. We are a sailboat, so we try and sail where possible. And when it isn’t possible, we try to avoid motoring into the wind or current. This year August was quite different than most. The winds almost always come from the north in Puget Sound and the Strait of Georgia in August. This year, for the most part, the winds came from the opposite direction - perfect for leaving Seattle and getting north, harder for getting home.

The winds weren’t the only difference, the sun also decided it was done for the summer. With one glorious sunny set of days punctuating the difference, we spent much of the time with cool air, cloudy skies, rain, some fog, and a few thunderstorms thrown into the mix. I’m sure this can clearly explained by use of the words like “closed low trough positioned off the Oregon coast” but I don’t know what most of the words really mean, so I won’t pretend.

Fortunately, the water, like a giant heat sink, wasn’t going to let all that summer heat fade too quickly. We did find those pockets of warm water. We swam in the pouring rain and snorkeled on cloudy days. We went through piles of towels staying warm afterwards, none of which properly dried after even a single use.

The agenda also adjusted. Why fight the weather? We changed our intended routes and destinations, seeing places we hadn’t been to in years and rediscovering places we had previously written off.

Northern Lights in James Bay on Prevost Island

It had been years since we stopped in James Bay on Prevost Island. A deep cove with an old orchid and some great trails make a fun place to stop. The primary autopilot broke and after spending 24 hours trying to fix it, including a harrowing dink ride into Ganges, we gave up. We settled in to the reality of boat life again. The essential question is not “is everything working?”, instead it is is “is enough working to proceed?” We were treated to a beautiful day and our first family view of the Northern Lights.

Princess Louisa Inlet became our lodestar. We carefully plotted a course up Jervis Inlet to hit the narrow Malibu Rapids at the exact right time to enter one of the most spectacular boating destinations around. Walls that reach over 5000’ vertically and depths that plunge to thousands of feet all in a tiny inlet that reaches only 4.5 miles long with a half mile of width. It’s like being dropped in a land of giants. Mind you, it’s taken 40 miles and at least 7 hours up Jervis Inlet to get here. It all adds to a sense of being in some cosmic playground as far off the beaten path as possible.

Eventide sailing up Jervis Inlet

Of course we didn’t discover this place. It’s been a destination for boaters for over a century. And we had been here before when there were only 4 of us. This time it was all 5 of us and everyone was old enough to explore a bit further afield. We set off to do the infamous hike up to the old trapper’s cabin and waterfall. As you can imagine based on the description of the inlet, this is essentially a vertical climb. After lunch at the trapper’s cabin with the first view available (lots and lots of trees) we kept going up, eventually reaching the very tippy top of the stream we had essentially been following the whole way, and finally getting our second set of spectacular views.

But look at that landscape! Half Dome is shorter than those peaks - and the inlet is trapped in between.

Away from the glacial fed streams, the water is stunningly clear

It is odd how untouchable the landscape feels. The sheer scale both inspires and slightly terrifies - will the rock hanging a few thousand feet up decide now is the time to drop? Hiking up broke that feeling a bit and so did getting in the water. We found a shallow spot to put on our wetsuits and go snorkeling. Starfish. Anenomies. Urchins. Rockfish. Sea slugs. The underwater seascape was filled with life. The water was a bit cloudy from the glacial run off, but still clear enough to explore for hours.

Having hit our northern most point, it was time to turn around after maxing out the 72 hour stay limit. It was a toss up as to whether we would head north or start to work our way south. The weather again made the call, with rare thunderstorms forecast for the evening of our departure. We had to find safe harbor and setup for the gusty winds and thunderstorms forecast. We set the anchor well and did our first anchor watch in a while. I don’t think many folks got a lot of sleep that night, based on the constant chatter on channel 16 into the early morning hours.

With our direction decided for us, we decided to head south along the Sunshine Coast. Smuggler’s Cove is a magical little marine park with an impossibly narrow entrance, rocky islets, and stern ties. We slipped in from the windy passage into light breezes and settled in for a few days. The kids became enchanted with the small island our stern was tied to. Hours disappeared - rainy, cool hours - exploring every nook and cranny. Evenings were spent swimming after the rain had passed. Somehow it is easier to jump in at dusk on a cloudy day.

Onward we were ushered by weather windows to move against the unseasonably and ever-present southerlies. Passing many humpbacks, eventually we slipped into False Creek in Vancouver, a city we had never visited by boat. After eating ourselves silly and exploring Granville Market, we set off again, headed south riding the fair current and northerly to put miles under the keel wind-on-wing (and seeing orcas!).

A night in Sucia. A night in Hunter Bay. Rain. Rain. Rain. Wind. Rain. Fog. Temperatures in the mid-50s. Dutch Blitz. Reading below decks. Getting out the foul weather gear. The days ticked by and fall approached. School is right around the corner. Work commitments. All the feels of just getting used to living on the boat when it is time to step off again.

“The Sea… holds one in its net of wonder forever.”

Water Usage