For the first time ever during an extended trip, we had no rain. There were a few misty mornings, but rain never fell and for this we were grateful. Not that we couldn’t have found things to do in the cabin, but the glory of waking up early to a sunny day and having coffee in the cockpit, then sitting in the same cockpit to watch the sunset, is unparalleled in my experience. Sunshine all day long with temperatures in the comfortable to low-simmer range is just my idea of happiness. If I can be warm in the shade, life is good.

The star of the day’s sun show is always at the end. Like the final display at a Fourth of July fireworks, Mother Nature saves the best for last. Here are the sunset photos that captured that moment the best.

 D’Arcy Island

D’Arcy Island is small, off the southern tip of Sidney Island, and used to be a leper colony. Last year we enjoyed anchoring in a cove off the west side, but that side was too exposed to the wind this year. We chose the north side, between two reefs. We were tired from the challenging weather we had encountered in the Strait of Juan de Fuca, followed by hair-raising anchoring in Sooke Harbor (when we discovered our chart was not adequate to that shoal area). We wanted a rest and finally felt like we had actually ‘arrived’ somewhere.  We never got off the boat, content to rest and relax, read and sleep. I think that’s what can happen when you are somewhere you’ve been before. The drive to explore has already been satisfied.

North side of D’Arcy Island

Penelakut Island and Thetis Island

It’s hard to say enough good things about Penelakut Island (formerly Kuper Island). It has everything I love: warm water (well, warm-ish…), sandstone and pebble beaches, tidepools, large smooth rocks, eagles, and views. We anchored off the west side of the island, away from the protected coves that draw 99% of the boaters even on a crowded weekend. In fine weather, there is no reason to run for the cover of a shallow cove and anchor with the herd. The reward is privacy, and this blazing sunset.

Penelakut Island, west side

Separating Penelakut and Thetis Islands on the east side is Clam Bay, a large bay with good anchoring depths throughout. It offers one of the only large and protected anchorages on that side of land for several miles. It is connected to Telegraph Cove on the west side by ‘the cut’, a channel of shallow water that allows small boats to pass through. We chose to explore the cut by dingy and kayak.

Image from Fisheries and Oceans Canada

At Clam Bay I had my first experience of having to say ‘no’ to someone going from boat to boat to sell hand made crafts. Penelakut Island is owned by the Penelakut tribe. One evening a young man of this tribe paddled his canoe/kayak up to the boat and asked permission to tie up. He was selling lovely wooden animals, carved in his tribe’s tradition. He had some nice ravens, and a beautiful salmon. Alas, not only did we not have cash on hand, but we are not acquiring new decorative items for either the boat or the home. I had to say ‘no thank you’. We had a nice conversation whereby he told me he had three children, and he and his wife had just purchased their house, ahead of his older sister who had only recently married. He seemed pleased that he had managed to win this sibling competition. He had carved some of the objects, and his father had carved others. His oldest child, a girl of 8 years, had recently announced that she, too, wanted to learn carving. I hated to say no to him, but he took it gracefully and went on to the next boat.  I hope he sold them all.

Clam Bay, Penelakut and Thetis Islands, east side. This is the true color of the sky. Brilliant rose pink for miles.

Patos Island

Patos Island is part of the San Juan Islands, so it’s on the American side. I’m glad, as it makes it that much easier to plan a trip back. If I could just get the boat up to Bellingham to stay in a marina up there,  we could make the leap to the islands so much easier.  It’s an idea we are toying with for our next boat.

Patos Island, looking up into the  Strait of Georgia

And this one from the same place. Strange effect with the camera’s mirror makes this look like it’s an alien planet.

There are so many different land masses in this area that it’s unusual to get to see the sun actually set on the horizon. Maybe this is what it’s like out at sea where there is nothing to interfere with the view. Anchored off the north side of Patos Island we could see far up the Strait of Georgia until it looked like the land stopped.  When we awoke in the morning, there was fog shrouding the land, but over the water it was clear, a strange looking phenomenon that happened several times during our trip.  It  was as though Moonrise were anchored at the edge of a great sea, the possibilities endless.

Looking back over this post I heave a big sigh and think it’s already time to go back. I wonder what it is like up there in the winter? Perhaps we will find out.

On our recent trip to the Gulf Islands of British Columbia, we enjoyed a variety of beautiful beaches. The geological history of the Gulf Islands includes a huge river delta that formed during the melting of the last ice age. As the glaciers melted, rocks and silt from the mountains were deposited into the river and the surrounding delta. The result now is beaches with beautiful sandstone formations. Water carves away the softer sandstone, leaving lovely shapes and exposing all manner of rocks and stones carried by the glacier, deposited in the old delta. Some of my favorite beaches sport ‘river stones’ carried from far away in prehistory.

Someone built this cairn at Portland Island, one of our very favorite places.

 This year we were able to visit islands we’d never been to before. I thought beaches couldn’t get much better than Cabbage Island, on the Strait of Georgia. But I was wrong! We traveled up to Thetis and Penelakut (Kuper) Islands, finding the same beautiful sandstone. Our Gulf Islands route included D’arcy Island, Portland Island, Salt Spring Island, Thetis and Penelakut Islands, De Courcy Island and Saturna Island. The forces of nature that formed Cabbage Island were evident at several of the places we stopped. 

The ‘discovery’ of Penelakut Island added a new ‘favorite’ to our list of places. We anchored off the west coast of that island and enjoyed beautiful views, warm (ish) water, and sandstone beaches.

Mike enjoys the honeycomb formations on Penelakut beaches.

Sandstone and Pacific Madrona

Sand, stone, and water.

After checking into the U.S. at Point Roberts, we crossed the Strait of Georgia again to visit the eastern part of the San Juan Islands, anchoring off the northern coast of Patos Island. Part of the same sandstone formation as Thetis and Penelakut Islands, Patos Island is, in a word, amazing. With the weather mild enough to anchor away from the crowds, I had this beach completely to myself, except for the seal colony.

Sandstone formation at beautiful Patos Island. The white sand in the foreground is actually stone.

Moonrise beyond the sandstone on Penelakut Island.

Because of the glaciers, the beaches are littered with beautiful stones. Nature has polished them. Nothing else is required.

Pebble at Patos Island, nestled in sandstone.

View of a sandstone formation with Patos Island lighthouse in the background.

These islands are a pebble collector’s dream. I have all kinds of vessels filled with beautiful pebbles from Northwest beaches. They decorate pretty much all the rooms of our house and my office. I believe Mike was relieved when I returned to the boat with only a handful of special rocks. It could have been a bucket full.

Patos Island pebbles.

Smooth sandstone, weathered over time, pebbles nestles in the crevices. Patos Island.

One of the benefits of owning a boat in the Pacific Northwest is that you get to go whale watching for free. If you can find the whales, that is. Each year since we’ve owned Moonrise we’ve vacationed in the Gulf Islands and have been enchanted to see the pods of Orca whales that live in the area. We’ve seen Grey whales down closer to home, and Finback whales in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. When we were at Barkley Sound we saw Humpback whales; the thrill of a lifetime. We were really looking forward to seeing more whales on this trip. So the fact that almost the entire vacation went by without seeing any whales had me very frustrated and not a little pissed off at the whale gods.

Auklets, while adorable, are not the same as whales.

Mike has a certain affinity for whales and generally they are attracted to him. I believe he has a little whale song he sings under his breath and that they somehow know this and respond by coming close to us. My evidence for this is manifold, but suffice to say that the one day when he was literally the only boat in the bay and was surrounded by Orcas, who rarely venture down to Tacoma, I became convinced. This year, however, his song went unheeded. We kept watch all the time. We were constantly on the lookout for whales. Had we done something to displease the whales and their gods?

The archetype of the lighthouse keeping watch. This is Dungeness Spit, with porpoises in the foreground. We saw plenty of porpoises. Again, while marine mammals, these do not count as whales.

We had kept watch, we had yearned, we had encouraged each other to remain hopeful. “We’ll see whales today.”, we would say.  All to no avail. Something had to be done. I had to pull out the “big guns”. We were leaving Narvaez Bay on the way to Point Roberts to check back into the U.S. I was lamenting the lack of whale action, especially as we had spent an entire day traveling down the Strait of Georgia looking for marine mammals of any size. It was apparent to me that a sacrifice was called for and since we had no virgins on the boat, I decided it was time for The Spitting. The credit for my knowledge of this goes to Cidnie over at Our Life With Ceol Mor who has mentioned this sacred feminine ritual to me on more than one occasion, albeit with tongue firmly in cheek. Many thanks for the info, Cidnie! Because it totally worked!

Mt. Baker and a lone paddler at Narvaez Bay on Saturna Island, one of our very favorite places.

As we motored out of Narvaez Bay I decided to take matters into my own hands regarding the whale gods. Rather than whine and beg them to accommodate me, their ears being completely deaf to pleadings of that kind, I decided to do a good ritual spitting into the sea and make a humble request.The way I look at it, I had nothing to lose.  I believe it went something like this: “I spit three times into the sea and humbly request you allow us to see some of our whale brothers and sisters before our trip ends. You know how we love them. Thank you.”. I put the ‘thank you’ in there because it’s polite, which balances out the whole ‘spitting’ thing. Can’t get that far away from my upbringing.

This is a whale watching boat. Cool as heck!  That’s Tumbo Island in the background. I believe this boat is from Victoria. But possibly Vancouver. Anyone recognize it? I was too busy watching whales to pay that much attention.

I kid you not, less than 5 minutes later we saw the Prince of Whales boat out of Victoria zooming toward us, a sure sign of whales in the vicinity.  They were going our way and soon there was plenty of good whale action for everyone! Whales were jumping all over the place putting on a spectacular show in the tidal rips at the tip of Tumbo Island.  It’s hard for me to get good photos of whales, especially as I’m generally jumping up and down on the bow of the boat yelling at poor Mike to ‘go that way!’. But we got our whale fix and we were grateful. They are so amazing.

A very lucky shot, especially with all the jumping up and down on the foredeck.

I would much rather see whales from my boat. But their boats are pretty cool. And fast. And the name cracks me up.

That’s the whale show for this year, unless Mike gets lucky again.

Until next year, my fine marine mammal friends! Many thanks for the excellent show! Next year I will cut to the chase and commence spitting upon arrival.