Tremendous wind and crashing waves all night. Woke to heavy wind and rain, and decided we wouldn't lose anything by going back to sleep, because — fuck this shit. Coffee and late breakfast under the tarp over the kitchen area. The only game available was something we called "attack points" — gathering the water that ran off the tarp in bucketfuls, betting on the location of the next dump by placing a pot under it. You won if the water chose your pot to land in; you lost if it dumped on the ground next to you and splattered you with wet sand.
We found out we'd had a very close shave last night. Yesterday the pile of kindling we'd first seen the day before was still there, so with our kayaks up at the height of the fire pit we didn't think it was necessary to tie them up. But this morning the kindling was gone and there was tide foam on the hulls of our boats — we'd almost lost them! What a difference 0.2m of tide can make. Remember, kids,
always tie up your kayaks, no matter how silly it may seem.
At a number of points the wind got right up under our tarp and threatened to blow it away. The tarp was providing exactly no protection from the elements at this point, and there wasn't a lot of charm to be found in the prospect of sitting out in this shit all day. Weather forecast for Queen Charlotte Sound were winds 25-35kt and seas 3-5m. Suddenly the cabin at Quinoot Point seemed like a very attractive destination, a place where we could sit out the worst of it, dry our soaked gear, and hit "reset."
When the rain let up a bit,we struck camp and lit out up Louise Channel again — it was becoming a very familiar paddle. But reliable Louise, she never gives us any trouble; it was a calm and windless journey to Boddy Narrows, where we caught a bit of a southerly that pushed us the rest of the way to Quinoot Point. Since it wasn't raining on us, we nosed around the "back door" of Quinoot into upper Thompson Bay, which was as flat as an Ontario lake, complete with loons. Jonathon rode the currents through the "back door" a few times just for kicks.
Back at Quinoot Cabin we pulled the yaks way up into a tent spot and lashed them to a tree for good measure. It took a lot to get any heat generated in the cabin, and while the fire was gathering we collected driftwood and put it under the cabin to dry for the next visitors. Eventually we got some heat going, and our wet gear began to off-gas, a pungent guys-and-brine aroma that assaulted us anew every time we exited and re-entered the cabin. If we'd been clever, we'd have washed our paddling gear before hanging it to dry, but nobody accuses us of being anything besides daft.
We settled in for an afternoon of reading and tending the fire. Everything took ages to dry, but a lot less time than it would have taken out there in the elements; we were pelted with intermittent downpours and squalls that made us very grateful for the Heiltsuk's generosity in sharing these cabins with visitors. I felt like I must do better next year — that I had possibly let Jonathon down by being so cautious, avoidant of bigger water and currents, overly cautious. I wasn't feeling terribly confident in my kayak; it didn't fit me as well as I'd like, nor did the low primary stability give me the feeling I could tackle as much as he could. And I wasn't very well conditioned heading into the trip. Must make more of an effort to keep fit over the winter this year.*
The forecast from now to Wednesday was for progressively less wind and rain, so we thought the Serpent Group was still a good potential target. It seemed impossible that only yesterday morning we woke up on McMullin — there had been so many episodes since then! The epic flight from McMullin to 48; drying our tent in the sun; the first paddle to Quinoot and sunbathing; fighting the wind on the way back to 48; playing attack points under the tarp for dinner; then double-rainbow-krummholz-eagle; waking this morning to black skies and gloom; more breakfast attack points; then a lovely paddle to Quinoot and the back door; now killing time in the cabin while the sky pounded down buckets.
The wind kicked up at bedtime, and the rain continued all night. The trees outside the cabin sounded like monsters trying to claw their way in. Luckily I had Spider-man to protect me, as he no doubt has protected many a Heiltsuk youth.
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| Spider-man peeking out from his bunk |
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| Islet 48 to Quinoot Point, Sept 8, 2018: 12 km |
*Spoiler: I didn't.
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