June 7th Sunday

From: Boat Bay, West Cracroft Is.    To: Port Neville
Start time: 0700        Finish time: 1530      Distance: 34.5 km
Tide: Port Harvey
0504     4.2
1156     0.6
1842     3.9

     I slept in until 4:45, made a cup of Starbucks instant coffee (it’s fast, it’s easy and it’s just not as good as real coffee). The weather report was NW 10 -15 knots in the morning building to gale force in the afternoon. I started packing up and loading the boat but didn’t get off the beach until 7:00. Two hours and fifteen minutes to eat, take down camp and load up? I’m going to have to find ways to speed this up. 

The calm before the storm. heading down Johnstone Strait

     By the time I got to Forward Bay it was blowing 10 – 15 knots.  Long ago there was a Kwakwaka’ wakw village here. Galois notes the original name as Tamlelas, meaning “trembling beach” and that in 1792 the Spanish ships of Galiano and Valdes spent ten days anchored here. I imagine they were exploring the area and replenishing supplies.
     I took a rest at the Broken Islands and briefly thought about staying here. It’s a nice camp spot hidden just behind the tree line, but it was still too early so I pushed on. About half way between Havannah Channel and Port Neville the wind started climbing to 25 – 30 knots. I pulled into a camp site just east of Stimpson Reef on the mainland, one of the many site I’d found on the BC Marine Trails website. Unfortunately I couldn’t find anywhere to penetrate the tree line and the beach was chocked full with drift logs. With nowhere to set up a tent, off I went again. Oddly enough the waves weren’t that intimidating compared to the wind speed. As I approached the next point of land a sailboat came around the corner hugging the shore to stay out of the bigger waves. As we passed each other and I asked one of the people on board about the conditions ahead. He said it wasn’t too bad as long as I stayed close to the shoreline. I looked out toward the strait and said, “it looks pretty rough out there”. He candidly replied, “don’t go out there”.
     I kept one eye over my shoulder as I worked my way downwind, to prepare for on coming waves. I was at the ready to lean into a low brace as the larger waves passed under me. When rounding points of land the seas would get very confused, the waves would bounced off of the rocks and crash into the on coming waves. Digging in hard I’d propel myself back into reasonably calmer water, always at the ready to brace. All the hard work, training and yoga was paying off here. I felt strong and confident. Six months ago I couldn’t have done this.  I stopped at a beautiful beach just outside of Port Neville to have a look around and as I pulled the kayak up the beach I noticed my kayak cart wasn’t tied up over my rear hatch as it should have been. I’d forgotten it on the beach this morning - ahh shit. I wasn’t about to paddle 34 kilometers upwind to get it, so the #**&#@ cart was going to have to stay there. I’ll need to find a cart to wheel my kayak on and off the ferries once I get to Gibsons. What a pain in the ass!

Port Neville is just around the corner 

     I arrived at the old post office and government wharf in Port Neville around 3:30. After getting permission from the caretakers to stay the night, I set up camp on the lawn beside an old canoe with a big hole in it. Latter that evening the caretaker came by and told me that a grizzly had been jumping on the overturned canoe the week before and had taken a bite out of it… nice to know, thanks. 

     

look closely and you can see the paw mark in the dust

The old post office was built in 1920 by Hans Hansen. Hans was a tough old Norwegian who had lost his hand in a hunting accident. He had a blacksmith make him a hook with a square hole into which he could fit an oar, he rowed up the coast from Vancouver eventually arriving in Port Neville in 1891 where he cleared the land and built his home. The property still belongs to the Hanson family although they no longer live here. This was once a busy hub with a store, post office and fuel dock and was a regular stop for the Union Steamship Company. I had tied up here about twenty years ago while working for a cash buyer, and went scuba diving under the government wharf. I was rewarded with a few really nice old bottles. Before Hans built his home here this was a resource site called Zazawadalalis.

The old Port Neville post office

     I was able to get a full five bars of reception on my cell phone here so I let Trish know I was safe. Bedtime was around 8:00 p.m. and the weather forecast for tomorrow was not promising.