It may sound a little naive but when we woke up in Robbers Passage after our first night in Barkley Sound we earnestly hoped the fog had all blown away. I was yearning for that "sense of place" that could only come through seeing the Broken Islands arrayed in the distance on one side of us and the endless open ocean on the other side. It's a bit like climbing Everest and summiting in the clouds; you know in your head you've made it but there is no vista - no satisfying visual cues to confirm it.
After going for another walk and exploring a small cave on the far side of the island, we said our goodbyes to the folks we met at Port Alberni Yacht club and motored away. The sky was partly cloudy and there was no fog in Robbers Passage but as we left we could see that fog still obscured some of the outer Broken Islands. Our plan today was to head to Effingham Island. Anyone looking at a chart of the area would likely identify this island and the large protected Effingham Bay as the most obvious place to anchor in the Broken Islands. A look at the cruising guide confirmed this and being our first night at anchor here we didn't want to try anything to risky.
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| It was a brief, cloudy sail to Effingham Island |
We motored across Imperial Eagle Channel and angled towards Effingham Island. For a while we had the sails up but before long we had arrived and needed to maneuver through the shallow north entrance. We puttered slowly through into the bay and found it to be satisfyingly sheltered - and empty. We made our way to the furthest, most sheltered corner of the bay and found only one other boat anchored there - a sailboat. There were no signs of life on the boat but a dinghy was pulled up on the shore nearby so we reasoned they were ashore hiking.
This was a lazy day. We had left Robbers Passage much later than usual and we had only been an hour or so crossing the channel. As a result we found ourselves anchored again in the early afternoon and restless. I had read about a trail on the island that led to a beach that was supposed to be the site of an old native village. We laced up our shoes, hopped in the dinghy and went ashore to explore. Before we left, the family from the other boat returned in their dinghy and we chatted with them for a bit. They had quit their jobs and pulled their son out of school in order to go sailing for a year or more. We would see more of them as our trip progressed.
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| Effingham Island - our anchorage for the night |
We had an enjoyable hike to the far side of the island. I had forgotten my day hikers and was using my smooth soled boat shoes, which made it hard to keep up with David who was powering through mud and uneven terrain at full stride. The trail opened up to the placid rocky beach that was littered with huge old growth logs that had become massive articles of driftwood. The tide was down and we spend a while beach combing and checking out the many tidal pools. I never tire of doing this and was pleased to see a bunch of anemones on the rocks. We don't see these near Vancouver for some reason. I had a blast poking around the pools to the extent that David got tired of it and laid down against a log to take a nap while I explored. As I jumped from rock to rock peering down into the pools I remembered that my first serious career ambition as a child was to be a marine biologist. Somewhere along the line I became a lot more pragmatic.
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| The remains of a wrecked boat sits amongst the driftwood |
Eventually I returned to where David was sitting and staring contemplatively out at the water. He saw me coming and together we hiked back to the dinghy, glad for both the exercise and an hour or so of pure serenity.
Back on the boat we were at loose ends for a bit, reading and puttering with things until it was time to have a drink before dinner. I had been carefully rationing my Goslings rum and Fever Tree ginger beer to last for the entire trip and carefully poured my daily allotment. 100 years ago in the British navy this occasion would have been known as "Up Spirits" - the time when a ration of rum given to each and every sailor on the ship. Unfortunately, while in Victoria, I had decided to "splice the mainbrace," which is to say, pour a double ration. As a result my rum supply was dwindling faster than anticipated and this was the cause of no small amount of angst.
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| Our anchorage, with the skies finally clear for the evening |
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| Getting ready for an epic sunset |
After another hearty dinner I went up top and looked out of the bay to the east as the sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon. The cruising guide had indicated Effingham Bay is an outstanding place to watch the sun set and it was easy to see why. I suggested to David that we drag the folding deck chairs up top and enjoy the show while we finished the last of the wine from dinner. However I could see this would be a losing battle. As I've alluded to earlier, once David is finished dinner he has one eye on his bed, regardless of how early it is. This irritates me to no end as I very much enjoy good conversation in the evening, especially in a spectacular environment like this. Somehow, diving into your bunk with the sun still up not only seems impolite but an abdication of a fundamental responsibility to your fellow man. Royally miffed, I sat alone on the deck and snapped pictures until it was dark. Oddly, at some point I realized I had cell service way out here on the far side of nowhere. I called Brenda and talked with her at length about the trip, glad to have some company after all. Happy now, I drifted off thinking of one of the more stunning sunsets I've seen in a long
time.
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