Desolation Sound

We left Princess Louisa Inlet on July 19th and motorsailed down to Egmont, where we stopped for the night at the Back Eddy Marina (shown below), which is just downstream from Sechelt Rapids. The Back Eddy has a good WiFi link, which I needed in order to e-mail comments to several graduate students whose dissertations I had been reviewing. It also has a nice pub.

The next day we continued on to Powell River, stopping at the Westview Marina. There was a stiff breeze blowing, allowing us to sail most of the way, but we encountered strong head winds as we rounded notorious Grief Point, forcing us to beat upwind. We eventually got tired of tacking back and forth, so we motored the last few miles. Powell River is the last major stop before Desolation Sound. We loaded up on provisions, changed the engine oil, and got prepared for further adventures.

On July 21, we left Powell River for Desolation Sound. We rounded Sarah Point, sailed up Malaspina Inlet, and entered Grace Harbor, hoping to find a good place to anchor. What we found was many, many boats. The place was jammed; the only open areas were over rocky patches with poor holding. While poking around for a possible place to anchor, I nearly ran into a big submerged rock. So we left Grace Harbor and anchored by ourselves in a small cove just outside. It was a pretty place where we stayed two days while I worked on reviewing manuscripts for a couple of academic journals. From there we continued up Malaspina Inlet, passed over a shallow bar, and entered Theodosia Inlet. Theodosia can be entered only at slack water, and this seemed to have kept away most of the other boaters. There is an active logging operation there, but it is tranquil and pretty. I spent mornings working on academic projects. Afternoons we kayaked, hiked, and gathered ripe blackberries.
A big bald eagle liked to roost near our boat.

Here are some views from the boat on a calm morning.

On July 25th we decided to move on. We went first to Tenados Bay, which is highly recommended in cruising guides, but found it jammed with boats. So we continued on to Roscoe Bay, a narrow inlet that can be entered only at high water. We waited for high tide, and crossed the shallow bar. Inside we found only a few boats; we were able to anchor right in the center, with plenty of room to swing.

Roscoe Bay is beautiful. The water was warm; we were able to swim off the boat. From the head of Roscoe Bay it is only a short walk to a large freshwater lake, called Black Lake. One day we walked in and went swimming. The next day we carried our kayaks in and made a grand tour of the lake, stopping for lunch on some small islands. We saw no one else that day. It felt like we were far from civilization.

I continued to work on academic projects every morning. By July 28th I had a lot of materials ready to be e-mailed to students and collaborators, so we left Roscoe Bay and motored to Refuge Cove, which has a marina, a store, and the all-important WiFi connection.

While Claudia bought supplies at the store, I downloaded and uploaded. We then left the cove, heading for Teakern Arm, another highly recommended venue. There, once again, we found boats lined up, side-by-side, in all the good anchorage spots. It was jammed. We tried to anchor in deep water in a couple of out-of-the way places, but could not get our anchor to hook on the rocky bottom. So again we gave up and moved on, heading for Von Donop Inlet. There we found plenty of room to anchor over a mud bottom. We spent a couple of nights in the upper end of the Inlet, near a trailhead for a hiking trail to Squirrel Cove. We later anchored just outside a small Lagoon that had its own small, reversing tidal rapids, which was fun to negotiate in the kayaks. Here is Claudia pulling a kayak upstream (during low tide). When the tide was high the rapids ran the other way. We had a minor disaster when I pulled the dinghy ashore over some sharp oysters. An oyster shell slashed the fabric, spilling the air from our inflatable dinghy. Luckily we were anchored near the shore. Claudia swam out to the boat to get our kayaks, which we used to pull the disabled dinghy back to the boat. My initial effort to patch the hole was unsuccessful, but I'll try again.


On August 1st, we left Von Donop Inlet and headed for Toba Inlet, which is famous for its green glacier-fed waters. We motored part of the way up the Inlet, passing an impressive waterfall.

We probably should have continued up Toba Inlet, but we had heard that it is difficult to anchor there, and we were ready to relax, so we turned south and headed for Walsh Cove, a nearby anchorage that is highly recommended in the guidebooks. We should by then have noticed the correlation between guidebook recommendations and crowding. Walsh Cove was jammed with boats. Smaller vessels were stern-tied side-by-side around the entire cove; the center was occupied by huge trawlers. It was not what we had in mind.

As we continued south, I studied the charts, looking for possible anchorages that are NOT recommended by any guidebooks, and found one called Doctor's Cove, on West Redondo Island. Part of the cove is occupied by a commercial salmon farm, but we found an isolated spot behind a small island, where we managed to anchor in fairly deep water (85 feet). It was a pretty spot, and we were the only boat there. I swam to the small island to have a look around and again felt like we were far from civilization. Back at the boat, I turned on the VHF radio and heard lots of chatter about full anchorages. Desolation Sound seems to be filling up with vacationing Canadians--it is the high-point of the summer boating season and the popular anchorages, like Walsh Cove and Prideau Haven are overflowing. But our experience showed that there are still nice, isolated places to anchor if one looks beyond the beaten path.

Interestingly, once we anchored in Doctor's Cove, several other boats that were passing in the channel outside came in to investigate. Had we not been anchored there, I doubt they would have given the place a look. They motored past us, checking their depth gauges, and looking for a spot they could anchor as well. But we had gotten our hook down on a fairly narrow shelf, surrounded by much deeper water, so they had no luck. It was another example of what Claudia and I (with a nod to psychologists Daniel Kahneman and Amos Tversky) call the anchoring/anchoring effect, or the anchoring effect for anchoring. When choosing a place to anchor, skippers seem inexorably drawn toward other anchored boats. Thus, the first boat or two into an anchorage set the pattern for where subsequent boats will anchor. I have not collected data systematically, but I believe we have been seeing evidence of this effect all year. As we see new boats entering an anchorage, Claudia and I try to predict where the skipper will choose to drop anchor. Regardless of the size or configuration of the anchorage, it will usually be in close proximity to boats already there.

I believe there is also an anchoring effect caused by nautical charts, which use an anchor symbol to designate good anchorages. When a single boat is observed in an anchorage, it's position is typically right over the anchor symbol on the chart. But I digress.

After a night at Doctor's Cove, we motored to nearby Pendrell Sound, which is renowned for its warm waters and oysters. The popular anchorage spots were crowded but we used our growing proficiency at deep water anchoring to good advantage. Although the bottom sloped steeply away from the shore, we managed to drag our anchor up-slope across a shelf until it hooked (at a point about 80 feet deep). We then used a stern tie to shore to hold the boat in place.

Pendrell Sound was great for kayaking and swimming, and also had wonderful oysters. The picture below shows a lingcod that I caught in Doctor's Cove. It was delicious.

The next picture shows me going ashore near our boat in Pendrell Sound to collect some of the local oysters.



They were also delicious. We really like catching and collecting our own food.

There were a lot of boats in Pendrill Sound, including some classic old motor yachts that are being used as small cruise ships. The yachts below charges guests over $1000 per night. I'm certain their guests did not enjoy the place as much as we did. We will definitely come back.



On August 4th we left Pendrell Sound and headed south to Powell River. Although it is still the height of summer season here, we are running out of time--our sabbatical will soon be coming to an end. We had arranged moorage for the boat at a small marina in Nanaimo. Our plan is to return to California and come back again, for more sailing, next summer.

After a night at Westview Marina, we continued south to Bargain Bay, one of our favorite spots on the way up. Once again, Bargain Bay was a bargain. We were the only boat anchored in the bay, and again we found an excellent WiFi connection. We noticed a number of buoys for crab pots near our boat, so we decided to try our luck. I dropped a crab trap right off the stern. When we collected it the next morning, it was swarming with red rock crabs. It was a bit of a struggle to get them out of the trap and sorted, but we had enough males of legal size for a nice crab dinner. This is what they looked like.

On August 6th, we left Bargain Bay and sailed south, across the Strait of Georgia, to Nanaimo. We had to detour around an area known as Whiskey Golf, where military exercises were underway, but made fairly good time, despite facing strong winds from the southeast in the afternoon. When we entered our slip at Departure Bay Marina, we had completed the last voyage of this sabbatical.