What a terrific weather day it was today: hot and sunny; just like it was the last time we were here. Word has it the weather is not always like this. A week ago, they say, a big electrical storm hit and knocked out electricity thoughout the entire town. And they say July was a brutal month for rain. Sitting here, cold drink in hand on such a hot day, it's hard to picture it. I will always remember Shearwater as the sunniest, hottest marina on the inside passage.
We left Boat Cove this morning at high tide and were tied up by 11:30 or so. Boat Cove was one of the smaller coves we've anchored in: a tiny little land locked cove that has just enough swinging room for two or three boats and sits inside a short, shallow, narrow entrance. The entrance has just two feet of depth at zero tide, so we had to come and go while the tide was high. Add ten feet of tide to that two feet of depth and we had just a few feet to spare when we left this morning.
The memorable thing about Boat Cove though wasn't that it was small, cozy, quiet and beautiful. We can say that about most of the anchorages along the way. The memorable thing about it was the crab that we scored while we were there. We arrived last night, after winding our way through Percival Narrows, to find a motor-cruiser in "our" cove. what was worse, they had crab pots out that took up half the cove. Hurrumph! Those crab pots turned out to be pretty sweet in the long run.
While Wendy and I were out for a dinghy row around the cove, checking out the nooks and crannies, the couple on the cruiser, "Remote Access," (their tender is called "Local Access") called out to ask if we wanted some crab. They were from Anacortes and were so friendly. It was really nice to meet them. We chatted for a while and they gave a large bag of crab. It was even cooked. Way cool. They had more than they could eat they said. I guess it really pays to put those pots out. We have one, but we don't catch fish and so don't have much in the way of bait. They use the heads off the fish they catch and mix it with cat food, the story goes.
One of the things I'd like to improve about this whole experience is my ability to take advantage of the bounty that inhabits the waters around the boat. It would be a lot easier on a bigger boat. I have to choose carefully what we make room for on a 37' boat and so far fishing gear has not been high on the list. Some day I'll make it happen. I have to learn to make it work first. Once I know what I'm doing I'll have confidence that the space I'm taking up for it is space well spent.
We put that crab to good use. Jerry spent the better part of half an hour cleaning the meat from the shell. Then tonight while sitting at the dock in Shearwater Kay, with Wendy's help, made crab cakes from a recipe Kay brought, imagining that we would catch crab at some point on this trip. Those were some awesome crab cakes: moist, fresh and flavorful.
The bay we anchored in the night before last, around the east end of Roderick Island, was called Windy Bay. It was the antithesis of Boat Cove. The bay was large, deep and easy to get into. In fact, it was so large and so deep, that it had difficulties of another kind: instead of being difficult to get into, it was difficult to anchor in. The ideal depth for anchoring is thirty to seventy feet. Much less than thirty feet and you run the risk of running aground at low tide. Much more than 70 feet needs too much anchor chain to give you good scope. Windy Bay stays deep and then gets to the right depth close to shore. There was one spot that was easiest to anchor in, but someone had already parked their boat there, so we were forced to find another spot that was less optimal. We ended up in seventy feet of water with three to one scope: 210 feet of chain. Three to one is fine if you don't expect to get blown around much. As it turned out, the bay was calm for the night.
The advantage of such a big, wide bay, didn't present itself until the following morning. I was up on deck, enjoying the stillness of the morning with a mug of hot chocolate and listening to the gulls singing their morning songs, when I heard the distinctive sound of whales breathing. I didn't see anything right away though. We were so used to seeing the humpbacks blowing mist when they breathe. It turns out these were orcas. The pod took a spin through the bay and went out through a small passage at the entrance.
Now we're in Shearwater. The tanks are full, the laundry is done, dinner is eaten and showers taken. We ended up doing the hike to Eddy Lake that Bob did on the day he departed. As I think he noted at that time, it is a bit of a mud slog. With the day hot and sweaty, it was so so nice to go swimming when we got there.
Tomorrow Wendy and Jerry will be leaving us to fly home and we will be sorry to see them go. They have been excellent crew: eager to contribute and great company. After seeing them off, Kay and I will continue south retracing our steps through Gunboat Passage and into Fitz Hugh Sound toward Cape Caution and Port McNeill where we'll meet Knute and Mary Lou. What fun!
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