Home Port
For the first time in my life I know what it feels like to have a home port. I suppose it is somewhat similar to the feeling you get when the family car crunches up your gravel driveway after a long vacation away from home. But even more, it is an extreme sense of safety, pride and welcome. These are the emotions I felt as we drew nearer to Silva Bay after our nine day boating trip up the Sunshine Coast and into Desolation Sound. When my sons were younger, we used to play a game on the way home from a long driving trip in which we all chose our favourite or best things about our vacation. Here are my choices from our recent adventure.
Lund has to have the best little bakery I have ever been in. They had at least six vanities of cinnamon bun, from blackberry to pecan. They had amazing breads and fruit pies and even late in the afternoon their shelves were kept fully stocked. And while I am on food, the best dinner we ate out was at The Tak restaurant in Manson’s Landing on Cortes: creative menu, lovely service, and great food.
Best supplied marina and general store was definitely Refuge Cove on West Redonda. The group of entrepreneurial spirits behind this cash cow should win a business award. The general store is full of everything you could possibly need from fresh steaks, home made breads, produce and my favourite olives and cheeses. Plus, everything you would need to catch your own dinner. Pots, pans and cleaning supplies, including those cute Barbie-sized plungers; things I didn’t know I needed until I saw them there. Local navigational charts that you may have misplaced are available at very reasonable pricing. All of this and a liquor store too. There is also a place where you can buy a cappuccino, a hamburger stand and a very clean laundry and shower facility. But the best part was that they actually take debit cards, which anyone in the retail business will tell you always increases sales. Judging from the line-up of full shopping carts, the extra expense that the merchant pays in order to offer debit service is paying off.
Refuge Cove also hosted the weirdest character we met on the trip: a cross between Mad Max and the professor from Back to the Future. He runs the garbage scow out in the harbour and for five bucks a bag, he will take your garbage. I think he lives there too. He had the place decorated with plants and garbage-art, crystals and gifts from some of his regulars. The only thing he asks for is that you at least stop a bit and chat with him. He quite openly (and proudly) stated that he personally went through every bag of garbage to sort out all of the recyclable, which we could attest to by the sight of neatly sorted stacks of cardboard, newspaper and bottles. We made a note to be a little more conscious of what we were putting in our garbage if we ever came back to him, which we ended up doing a few days later.
Busiest spot: had to be Roscoe Bay/Black Lake. It was like a Costco parking lot on a Saturday. The fresh water lake was great for swimming but the bay was probably not the best place to anchor if you were hoping for quiet and privacy. The most peaceful spot for me personally was Grace Harbour. There were many kyakers there and the larger boats were well spread apart. I definitely had one of my best night’s sleeps there. The water was calm and there wasn’t a lot of boat wake kicking up either. I thought that the name, Grace Harbour really suited the spot.
I had my worst sleep in Manson’s Landing on Cortes. This was partially due to the violent Northwester that started to blow that night, and then our night visitor. After returning from our dinner “in town,” we found that an aluminium boat was rafted to ours. I figured that the owner would either be out partying for the whole night or if he did return, go across our bow because we zipped up the back of the boat snuggly before going to bed. Maybe it was due to the howling of the wind and the moaning of the wharf or maybe it had something to do with the name of the harbour, but when I heard our zipper opening in the middle of the night, I thought I would die from fright. Then someone jumped down into our boat; there was a pause, and I heard a zipper again. I wasn’t sure if we were alone; it was hard to hear any sounds over the wailing of the wind and J’s snoring. (Obviously he hadn’t been disturbed by any of these going ons.) I didn’t hear any more unusual sounds, but prayed that I wouldn’t have to get up to go to the bathroom before it got light out. Jordan got up first in the morning (it certainly wasn’t going to be me!), and I didn’t hear any screaming. I wasn’t going to say anything about it, but Jordan told me that he had dreamed someone had jumped onto our boat. The mystery was solved a little later that morning when this rather disheveled Frenchman tried to walk past me on the dock and jump into our boat without saying anything to me. I asked him to please go over the bow because I still had out all of cooking stuff and just wasn’t ready for company! He nimbly crossed into his boat, lugging a case of empties. He explained that he had been partying on a friend’s boat which was moored just beyond ours and had tried to go home in his boat last night but had decided against it because of the weather. I am pretty sure that this wasn’t the only reason, but I felt much better about the whole affair after our face-to-face. He seemed quite harmless, even charming.
Pam and I probably used every superlative in the English dictionary to describe the beauty of the rocks and shoreline of the Copeland Islands. We anchored there on one of our first nights out and except for a lot of early morning traffic, it was one of the more tranquil places. It was definitely the most beautiful evening spent on the boats, star gazing while listening to Diana Krall and Van Morrison. Someone else had earlier been playing a wonderful album by a famous Italian tenor whose name I can never remember. It was perfect for the mood of the evening. Every place we visited on our trip was spectacular in its own unique way: I thought the moon jellyfish in Manson’s Landing were the most graceful and luminous things I had ever seen (the kids thought otherwise). I think that the vista of Pendrell Sound was the one that awed me the most: dramatic green slopes dropping directly down to the water, with a view of snow-capped mountains in the background.
The most beautiful beach had to be at Buccaneer Bay in the Thormanby Islands, just across from Secret Cove. Due to some early engine troubles, we needed to stay in Secret Cove for our first two nights, which turned out to be a bit of good luck for us. The folks at the marina there were some of the friendliest and most helpful of any we met. Even Kona, the Harle’s dog, made a friend named Sadie. When we stopped in a week later, it was like they were long lost bosom buddies. And we never would have discovered Buccaneer Bay if not for engine trouble. A bit of serendipity, I think.
Best swimming: had to be behind Allies Island in Waddington Sound where we anchored for a few hours one day. I know that the Harles will argue that it was Hague Lake on Cortes, but I actually jumped into the water from the boat and swam to shore at Allies, and I wouldn’t have done that unless everything was just perfect. I am a bit of a chicken when it comes to swimming in the ocean.
Best looking guys, besides our husbands, of course: all of the long-haired, twenty-something guys on Cortes. We even met up with a fellow who had grown up on Cortes, was now a grandfather and was back visiting his old friends (traveling with his guitar in a home-made camper bus with a veranda!) He still looks great! Nice smiles, guys. Maybe all of those moon jellyfish give off some sort of cosmic glow.
Best boating buddies: The Harle family. I think that we complemented each other perfectly. I couldn’t imagine going on a trip like this, especially as inexperienced as Jordan and I were, without a back-up we trusted.
And finally, best home port has to be Silva Bay. There is no place like home.
And finally, best home port has to be Silva Bay. There is no place like home.