
"So where did your adventure take you, Bilbo?"
"There and back again."
J. R. R. Tolkien
Our adventure was much shorter than that of Bilbo's and much less eventful, but fun nonetheless. Above is our small boat (25 feet) in the very large and remote landscape of the Broughton Archipelago, a maze of islands and inlets between northern Vancouver Island and the mainland. It was very much like camping, but on the water, and we felt very very small. It's a rugged and weighty landscape, made even weightier when the fog rolled in and rain fell.
Fog draped the mornings in ethereal mist for the first few days, mist that burned to sunshine by midday. Then the water sparkled and the colours shone.
This coast is sparsely inhabited. Fewer people live here than once did around 100 years ago. Both First Nations communities and settlers have moved to larger centres, although the First Nations continue to hunt and fish on their traditional territories.
There is little evidence remaining of the settlements where people eked out a living by fishing or farming. The stone wall above was built on the site of a former Catholic mission by a farmer/storekeeper who ringed his property with local stones. Artifacts such as glass bottles and broken fragments of pottery are found on the site. The doorway above was once an archway, now fallen and the stones scattered.
Potts Lagoon is accessible only at high tide, with small watercraft. We took the dinghy through one day. Fields golden with grass bear witness to the man who cleared the land. Tides are inexorable and have made inroads into the fields, creating channels that twist and turn.
One day there was a gale warning. Although there is little to no cell coverage, the Canadian Coast Guard provides weather updates via the marine radio on the boat. We hunkered down in Bootleg Cove, a very sheltered spot. Gusts of wind blew over and rain pounded down, but we were dry and cozy. We spent the afternoon indulging in a downloaded movie on Tim's tablet and I made hot chocolate and popcorn.
Can you figure out the photo above? It's a seal, head and backside sticking up out of the water. He was playing peek-a-boo.
Typical morning mist. Rocky islets and small islands dot the landscape, requiring close attention to the nautical charts. It was like being in a dream.
After the fog left, the water looked almost tropical. Access to the land is difficult - there are few trails to walk as the forest is so dense.
We were lucky to see three bear sightings. The first was a bear swimming across a narrow channel just in front of us. He paddled hard and paid little attention to us.
Thousands of birds live here: Rhinocerus Auklets, related to Puffins with similar beaks, Gulls of all sorts, Eagles, Cormorants, Osprey.
Sometimes, the islands look as if they were castle walls, impenetrable, rising straight out of the water, and making access difficult or impossible.
We watched another two bears forage along the shore at low tide. They looked at us briefly, then returned to the business of filling their stomachs for soon-approaching winter.
The sunny days ended after the gale passed and each day the rain fell, in drizzles and in sheets. We ventured into Simoom Sound where Captain George Vancouver anchored his ships, the Discovery and Chatham in 1792 and spent a week surveying the coastline. There is a small isthmus that he walked across, and I would have loved to do the same, but the weather precluded that.
One evening around 8:30 we were reading and heard a series of distinctive deep exhales. Dropping our books we ventured out and sat on the deck to watch a pod of orca whales swim into our anchorage and slowly circle out again. The light was fading resulting in poor quality photos. Magical.
Despite the rain that caused us to return home earlier than planned, we had a wonderful time. I think that Simoom Sound, even drenched in rain, is one of the most beautiful places I've been. A thousand shades of green that shifted colour throughout the day. When the rain stopped the water looked as though it were a piece of charmeuse silk I could pick up and slip through my fingers, smooth and soft.
Since our return a few days ago, I've been doing laundry, taking care of the garden, and visiting with family. It's always good to be home. Like Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit, I'll close with
"If ever you are passing my way," said Bilbo, "don't wait to knock. Tea is at four; but any of you are welcome any time."
J. R. R. Tolkien