Benson Island – Best of the Broken Group

Better sit down so you can deal with the shock of what I’m going to tell you. Be calm. Don’t get up and walk out, stomp off, or slam doors about this. Just hear me out. I know it’s almost a sacrilege to say that the Broken Group, as a rule, just doesn’t do it for you as a cruising destination. But with the exception of Benson Island, this group of islands leaves me feeling a little ‘meh’. Whew. Glad that’s off my chest.

Tide pool at Benson Island. The colors are astounding, and unmolested by software. This is really how they look.

Compared to the Gulf Islands in the Salish Sea, these islands look like they just emerged from the depths last week. There is nothing gentle or time-worn about these lands. There are precious few landing beaches, but plenty of big hull crunching rocks. True, the water is practically sedate there it’s so protected. So, in terms of a quiet anchorage where you can lay around and read, they are very hard to beat up there on the west coast. But there isn’t a whole lot of variety among them. To me, they kind of all look alike. I can only do so much kayaking among giant cedar trees before I’m ready for something different.  Yeah, sacre’ bleu, etc.  I like the Deer Group so much better.

Except for Benson Island. There is nothing sedate about Benson Island. This is one wild and cool place where all your senses will be engaged. Put that Kindle down, baby, because we’re going ashore!

For your comparison. Jarvis Lagoon between Jarvis and Jacques Islands in the Broken Group. No place to go ashore here. Not even a little bit unless you want to clamber around on slippery rocks.

Another tide pool on Benson Island. I never get tired of them.

So happy to see purple sea stars living here!

This was our second visit to Benson Island. We visited in 2010 with our last boat, Moonrise, a Cal 34. The anchorage at Benson is small, with room for only a handful of boats and it’s not particularly well protected. There are many sharp and pointy rocks with big teeth, land sharks.  On the east side of the island is a cove with a sand and pebble beach complete with rocky tidal pools and the big driftwood people up here know and love.

View from Galapagos at anchor off Benson Island. Yes, fog coming in from the Pacific.

View from Galapagos at anchor off Benson Island. Yes, fog coming in from the Pacific. High tide. Ocean is around the corner to the right.

With wind generally coming in from the sea, you are protected from the worst of the wind and swells, but be sure of your anchor holding before you go ashore. We anchored in about 30 feet, give or take 5,  with good holding and with plenty of swing room. We were the only boat there. Although our holding was good, it’s exposed enough at that anchorage that we always felt better keeping an eye on Galapagos and were pretty relieved to find her where we left her. Anxiety is a bitch. (Just FYI for other cruisers, we never leave her unattended until we are certain she is staying put. Unless the wind changes. Unless the current changes. You know the drill.)

Galapagos in her natural habitat.

Once on shore you are in old growth forest and can take a path toward the beach between Benson and Clarke Islands. From there, if you are in the mood, you can walk and climb along this beach to the woolier side of the island where the rolling Pacific meets the shore. This path takes you through a clearing with sedges and grasses to the site of the Tseshaht village that used to stand here. The Tseshaht people consider Benson Island to be the place where their people originated, so this is a holy island to them and it feels every bit of it. Some of the cathedrals in Scotland brought similar feelings up for me.

Up and into the wild woods.

Since our last visit in 2010, the tribe has installed a lovely carving representing the First Man. As a tribute, or perhaps as an invocation, people have left gifts from the natural world at his feet. We thought this was lovely and wanted to participate, asking the First Man for his permission to explore the island and for his protection while we did so.  We found an empty paper wasp nest and placed this at his feet with thanks for allowing us to visit this beautiful place. When an island is full of spirit, it’s best to acknowledge that with a humble heart.

The First Man carving. He is really a handsome statue.

Offerings to the First Man. I hope his spirit appreciates the wasp nest we found.

When we were there five years ago, there was a sort-of trail that crossed the island, although I remember pushing through some rather dense and tall salal at one point. At that time, camping had been prohibited for only a year.  Five years later we couldn’t find any kind of trail that crossed the island. Now that camping is not allowed, perhaps they are letting the trail go. You can push through brush to trudge across the island if you want to, but we didn’t want to leave Galapagos for that long.  And we are 5 years older. Maybe that had something to do with it.

During our hike on our visit in 2010 I remembered that we had seen a lovely buck standing in the sunlight, filtered through the trees. He had been standing looking down at us as we walked along the ridge that crosses the island. I decided to climb up to the ridge, using shrubs and ferns as handholds, and see if I could find a trail in that area. Instead I saw his grandson. Or maybe his son.

He was completely undisturbed by my presence.

We are never overly concerned about predators in the wild, but we ran across this scat and wondered what could have left it. This is a small island and has an obvious deer presence. We wondered if something was keeping their population in check. Do you know what this is?

The larger piece of scat was maybe 4-5 inches long.

Something else precious about this island is that there are remains of petroglyphs on a rock outcropping near the anchorage. The outcropping is under the roots of a large tree.  In 2010 I discovered them as I was examining the rock and was completely taken aback when they kind of jumped into my view. I found them again easily.  They are a fascinating reminder that ancient people lived here. Archaeologists have determined that native people lived on this island as long as 5000 years ago.

Look closely toward the middle of the photo, a bit to the right.

Here’s a closer view. On the left/center you will see a salmon skeleton. On the right is a figure of a person.  Above and to the left of the salmon there is a sun. These are extremely faint and in person much easier to discern.

After checking into Ucluelet, a visit to Benson Island is a great way to start your tour of the Broken Group. But if you think the rest of the islands will be like this one, you’ll be disappointed. They are too protected, too new, and are not washed and scoured like Benson’s shores. Benson Island represents the best of the wild Pacific islands in this area, along with the Deer Group on the Bamfield side of Barkley Sound. Be ready for all your senses to tingle, and if the wind and weather is right, you’ll have a decent night’s sleep in this anchorage. Be sure to pay your respects to the First Man and give thanks that you, too, have the good fortune to visit this beautiful place.

 

D’arcy Island, Haunted Jewel of the Southern Gulf Islands

When it was time to leave Clayoquot Sound and turn towards home, Mike and I were both a bit sad that the trip was coming to an end. We had found a good groove aboard Galapagos. Life was simple on the boat.  We were not quite ready to get back into the fast life of suburbia and jobs. So we decided to do an overnight passage into the Strait of Juan de Fuca and hightail it to the Gulf Islands of the Salish Sea to spend a couple of days soaking in the vibe of that area before the long trek home. I’m so glad we did.

With Vancouver Island in the background.

We chose to anchor at D’arcy Island, well poised to cross the strait back to Washington. We love D’arcy Island and always wonder why it is never crowded like, say, Portland Island (which we also love). Perhaps it has something to do with one of the popular cruising guides saying there are not “good anchorages” there. The implication is that you can do a brief stopover in good weather, but don’t expect to stay long.  We beg to differ, at least in the summer when we’re likely to be traveling.  We have anchored at D’arcy Island every year for many years now and we never grow tired of it. I suppose if your definition of “good anchorage” is that it is surrounded by land on all but one side, you will not like anchoring there. But we anchor between D’arcy Island and Sidney Island in about 20 feet of water, in good holding, and we’ve always been happy. If the wind is out of the northeast, it may get a little choppy but it would have to be a good blow for there to be a problem. You can anchor well away from the shore and still be in less than 30 feet of water. We’re happy with that.

So what is our definition of a ‘good anchorage’? We like it to not be crowded with other boats. We like an area to go ashore and explore. We like to watch wildlife and we love beautiful scenery. I don’t think we are different from most other cruisers in that respect. This island has all that and interesting history as well. Maybe it is this history that keeps other boaters away. Fine by me.

Caretaker’s cottage ruin.

In 1891 the city of Victoria established D’arcy Island as where they would send their Chinese lepers to live in isolation from the rest of the world. The fact that the lepers happened to be Chinese may have made that decision easier for the general public to tolerate, as is evidenced by the fact that there was another facilty for ‘white’ lepers in another part of Canada. In that facility there was medical care and the patients were cared for by nuns. Only Chinese lepers were sent to D’arcy Island. The people forced to leave family and community lived without outside contact except for a supply ship that came every three months. The conditions are described as deplorable until 1906, when the government passed the Leprosy Act. This heralded the beginning of this being a medical treatment facility, which must have been some kind of improvement. (Here’s another interesting article about the island’s history.)

With this kind of tragic history, is it any wonder that some people have experienced this island to be haunted? People have reported being overwhelmed with feelings of isolation, fear, and loneliness. So naturally I wanted to see if I could feel those things; if I could somehow be in contact with the spirits of the island’s lepers. I’m just crazy that way. I might be afraid of docking the boat, but I’m not afraid of ghosts pretty much. Having been to D’arcy Island many times, I had never felt those things and I’m known to be ‘sensitive’ to the feelings of places. I needed to go for a walk by myself to see if I could commune with these tortured souls. I set out in the dinghy and rowed to shore.

Looking at San Juan Island. See the otter?

D’arcy Island has a trail that allegedly goes all the way around the island, but it is only half-heartedly marked with plastic tape attached to small trees and branches. Considering there are many deer trails as well, be aware that you are likely to get off the trail easily. If you are not okay with making your own way through the woods and dense patches of tall salal, don’t bother to walk too far. I took off at a brisk pace, enjoying the stretch of a nice stride for once. Leaves rustled, birds called to each other. I felt peaceful and good.

Coming around the corner at the southwest edge I startled three large otters hunting in the swells. We observed each other momentarily as we both got our bearings and recovered from the little surprise. I watched them for awhile then continued on, feeling lucky to have seen them so close up. Otters are shy of people and do not like to have their photo taken. I continued on around the south edge, climbing on the lovely warm rocks, feeling the familiar crunch of dried moss and lichens under my feet, wondering what it would be like to live in such a rich place, looking out at the strait hoping for whales, as always.

I was considering hiking around the entire island because I had not yet felt the loneliness and isolation that would herald the presence of the spirits of the dead lepers. I was about at the halfway point, and knew that the trail on the other side of the island was dense and not very much fun. I was at the point where I had to make the decision: turn back now or keep going. I needed a sign.

Coming to the top of an outcropping of rock, I looked down into the next bay and saw a small motor boat tied up to the shore. There was one man stumbling along the beach there with a can in his hand. He looked like he may be drunk as he wasn’t exactly walking a straight line.  I would rather tangle with ghosts any day than come across a drunk man on a beach when I’m by myself. My finely tuned sense of female survival alerted me that this was a good enough sign to turn back. Suddenly, I felt very alone. Somehow the existence of this other person, far away on a beach down below, put my own presence here on these rocks in perspective.

Evidence of nice people who’ve walked the trail before.

I climbed back down the rocks and made good distance; not exactly hurrying, but not exactly taking my time, either, feeling the vulnerability of being alone in an isolated place with no way to communicate with Mike. (My cell phone was left safely on the boat, so as to not interfere with my experience.) Was this my own loneliness I was feeling? Or something else entirely? I needed to concentrate.

I stopped to listen more closely, closing my eyes, tuning in, as it were, to what was present in that moment.  And then I knew. Yes, the ghosts were there. I could hear/feel them. But I was not overcome with the feelings of abandonment and fear that other people have reported to feel.  I was surprised to find that the spirits were comforting me. Attracted to me by my own feelings of isolation and awareness of being very alone, their messages were clear: “We are here. We are with you in this place. This place is good. You are not alone. You are safe. We will stay with you.”

I stood gobsmacked, struck dumb and grateful in one part of my being; the familiar presence of my own internal skeptic and critic standing with hands on hips in the other part of my being. Was this real? Was I making this up?  Feelings of peace and contentment again washed through me, dispelling all fear, extinguishing all worries. My doubts vanished. A two point buck sprang in front of me and disappeared into the brush.  As I walked the trail I opened my heart to the spirits of these people and felt the peace they had come to in their version of the afterlife. There are many reasons why spirits of the dead may choose to hang close to a physical place. Not all of them are dark and scary. 

The presence of the lepers of D’arcy Island, 5 of them, by the way,  stayed with me until I reached a campsite where a couple had been camping for a few days. Suddenly, I felt them go. I’m not sure why. Maybe they thought I didn’t need them anymore. Maybe the presence of other human beings and a dog interfered with my ‘reception’ of them. But I would have welcomed their company for awhile longer. I will always love returning to peaceful, beautiful, and yes, haunted, D’arcy Island. I know there are helpful spirits waiting to walk the trail with me. We’ll say hello like old friends.

Mt. Baker from our anchorage on D’arcy Island.

Standing up to Fear

 

Mike aboard S/V Elsa took this shot of us as we passed each other out on the bay.

A few days ago I did something special. Something I have been thinking about doing before we even bought our 25 ton, 47 foot ketch.

I went sailing, by myself.

In our posts, I think we have shared some of our anxiety about handling this boat in and around docks, other boats and the usual crunchy bits that comprise an important part of the cruiser’s world. We have had some anxious moments and even done some damage to Galapagos as we have worked to sort out the complexities of launching and landing a boat that is bigger by far than anything we have piloted in the past.

That anxiety had festered, grown and created tensions within each of us and between us that threatened to rob the joy that our little cunning plan represents. Melissa and I have invested so much into manifesting a future that is premised on not being ruled by fear. Being open to the joy and curious wonder of our world is how we hope to live the rest of our lives.

And so, after a few hours of tinkering with the new solar panels on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, I started the engine, slipped the lines and left our marina.  The wind was only about six knots and out of sheer laziness, I used only the headsail for a few hours on Commencement bay.  It wasn’t terribly different than taking our sweet Cal 34 out on the bay as I had done dozens of times before. With only the headsail, we made about four knots but it was a glorious four knots that gave me a sense of mastery over this ship that had been lacking.

Later that afternoon, I brought our little ship back to her slip. There was an opposing current and a little crosswind but the procedure was not much different than our Cal; more free board and you can’t shove this boat around as easily.  I was pleased when one of the marina employees, working nearby, jumped when he suddenly saw Galapagos sidled into her slip. He ran over to help cleat her off and said, “Your boat is so quiet! I didn’t hear you pull in!”

Docking a boat should  entail some level of anxiety. A little stress keeps you on your toes and that is never bad when dealing with the vagaries of wind, current and a full keeled boat. But the distance between a healthy awareness and paralyzing fear can be surprisingly short for many of us.  Marking that distance and not being ruled by fear is something we have to learn and re-learn throughout our lives.  Every time we leave the dock.