Barkley Sound - Adventures in "Fogust" - Part V

Note:  For earlier chapters in this trip log, scroll down or use the index to the left.

Waking up in Effingham Bay we were presented with a bit of a conundrum.  Our old friend the fog was still hanging over us like a blanket.  As it was coming off the ocean it was thickest near the mouth of the sound and dissipated as you progressed inland.  This seemed to make a case for finding the next anchorage deep inside the Sound.  However, we were already pondering the trip home.  There was a gale warning in the Juan de Fuca currently and although it was forecast to calm down by the time we were out there we didn't want to take any unnecessary risks.  Ergo, we needed to be on the water and heading to Port Renfrew as early as possible the next morning.  Additionally, we had elected not to buy fuel in Bamfield, thinking we would likely visit Uclulet before leaving Barkley Sound.  We needed fuel and a few extra provisions and Ucluelet is conveniently located at the north entrance.  And so it was that while our hearts were looking inland for the sunshine our heads dictated we stay near the mouth of the sound, pay a visit to Ucuelet and then find an anchorage that would serve as a staging point for a speedy departure the next morning.  We ate an epic breakfast of bacon, eggs and pancakes and then left.

We motored northwest toward Ucluelet Inlet in the dreary cloud and fog and filled the time by arguing over how many degrees to port or starboard we needed to go to avoid the minefield of rocks we saw on the charts.  As I watched them come into view through the fog and saw the waves crashing against their jagged edges I could only imagine how many ships had fallen prey to them over the years.  I spend a lot of time romanticizing the early sailing explorers but right then I wouldn't have traded my trusty GPS for anything.

We entered Ucluelet Inlet and motored along looking for landmarks.  We passed the fuel dock but we knew the main town dock was further in.  Eventually we found it and in spite of a brisk wind blowing us away, landed smartly and without any drama.  As an aside, David and I were both enjoying a string of good landings on this trip and were feeling pretty good about our docking skills.

We locked up the boat and walked up the hill to the main road and got directions from a local on where to find the grocery store.  We walked up the road and I enjoyed looking around the town as I had never visited here before.  A short while later we emerged from Thrifty Foods with a couple of bags of provisions and started for home.

For some reason I had a hankering to visit the local pub.  I wasn't particularly hungry after our huge breakfast only a few hours ago but a cold beer in a cozy local pub sounded appealing.  As it happened, the Eagles Nest Pub was very close to where we were tied up and soon enough we were quaffing pale ales and chatting with the bartender / waitress.  We commented on the fog and asked how long she thought it would last.  She shrugged "It's Fogust."  This was the first time that someone had actually admitted to us that it's pretty much foggy here all the time here in August.  I wondered how I couldn't have stumbled over this fact after all of the planning we had done.  Just then I noticed a TV on the wall with an image of a lighthouse on the screen.  I realized after a moment it was showing a web cam that was facing out to sea from the point of Ucluelet Inlet.  Apparently the fog is on everyone's mind here.  When a clear patch hits, people spring into action.

The pub in Ucluelet and the "fog cam" behind the bar

David had ordered a halibut burger because it seemed like the thing to do.  When we first sat down we watched out the window as a sport fisherman walked up the dock from his boat with two huge fish that were at least half his size.  When in Rome...  In a fit of restraint I declined to order any food for myself, still thinking about breakfast.  But when David bit into his halibut burger and started rolling his eyes with pleasure, I broke down and ordered one for myself.  It was amazing.  Certainly the best fish burger I've ever eaten and even one of the best fish meals of any sort.  My opinion of sport fishermen softened for a few moments.

After lunch and a few beers we headed back to the boat feeling entirely satiated.  We left the dock and headed out, stopping briefly at the fuel dock to top up.

We poured over the chart looking for a suitable anchorage that was both safe and near the entrance to the sound.  Eventually we settled on Wouwer Island.  Here's what the Waggoners cruising guide says about the place:

"The outer islands of the Broken Group are marked by twisted trees, the result of relentless onshore winds, especially in the winter.  If your needs include  the desire to navigate 'at the edge' the outer islands can satisfy that need.  Here, you'll have your opportunity to run in wind and fog, with the Pacific Ocean swells beating against the rocks.  Navigate carefully.  The low islands  are easy to get mixed up.  Rocks and reefs are charted, but they're everywhere...'

"...Wouwer Island is breathtaking, both in its scenery and gunk holing.  At half tide or higher, most boats can make it through the slit between Barkley Island and Wouwer Island.  A bow watch only will scare you.  Once through, and when you're breathing again, anchor in either of the next two little bays."

The descriptions were too enticing to pass up.  We motored to Wouwer Island and crept our way through the narrow passage in, as indicated on the chart.  Once again I wondered how people did this without GPS, although we both kept a sharp eye on the surrounding terrain knowing that electronics are not always accurate.  The tide being rather high, we went through without any concerns.  We found a beautiful little spot that was remarkably placid in the lee of the island and threw out the hook.  We were careful this time to use extra scope and be extra sure of a good hold.  By the looks of the surrounding trees and shoreline, this place could get active if the wind changed direction.

We noticed nearby our friends from the sailboat in Effingham Bay but they bugged out a short while later, just as they had done on the other island.  Was it us?  We were alone here in this rugged little bay and it felt, finally, like we were on nature's ragged edge.

A rough depiction of our route through Barkley Sound.  Click to enlarge

David was content to sit and read but I wanted to go and explore the island.  I rowed the dinghy ashore and found a trail that led to the ocean side and a beach that was wild and beautiful.  I walked along the logs and rocks much as I had done at Effingham but feeling all the more secluded for being here by myself.  I found a couple of fisherman's floats and took one back to the dinghy as a keepsake. I made my way back to the dinghy and as I approached I saw through the trees Ge'Mara floating out in the swells.  She looked different this time.  Indeed it felt like we had finally sailed her past the safe and comfortable marinas of the Strait of Georgia to a place that was truly wild, unspoilt and maybe just a touch dangerous.  For all the planning, learning and dreaming we had done, for all the monotonous motoring in the fog, this was the moment I had been waiting to experience.  It was deeply satisfying.  Letting out a long breath I rowed the dinghy back to the boat where David was waiting in the cockpit to start happy hour.