After a quick check-in at Van Isle Marina, Jomo slipped away from the busy Saturday-morning fuel dock. While the rest of the harbor seemed intent on heading somewhere specific, we pointed the bow north. Our cruising choices are always shaped by a mix of wind, time, and comfort—and by how far we’re willing to roam from our kids back at home. With those boundaries in mind, we set our sights on an afternoon sail to Maple Bay (a 15nm transit - see chart), with a plan to explore nearby Burgoyne Bay the following day.

Before reaching open waters (specifically, Satellite Channel) we threaded our way through a cluster of islets and rocky reefs just north of Tsehum Harbour, our departure point. With four possible routes—ranging from a comfortable three miles to a somewhat direct three-quarters—I somehow convinced Erika, again, that the shortest and most rock-strewn option was a good idea.  At its narrowest (see insets), the pass pinches down to about 40 feet, when maint. Not an issue… unless you meet traffic, which we did. Right on cue, a 60-foot motor yacht with a 20-foot beam appeared in the choke point. No problem--Jomo’s beam is 13 feet, leaving us just enough room. Don’t do the math, please. Gray Poupon, anyone? I jest.  In truth, I slowed our approach, “probably” another “suggestion” from the admiral, and yielded to the motor vessel. I’m sure I could have made it! (photo below-right showing Jomo departing Page Passage, not a picture of the slightly wider John or Shute Passages to the east).

As we entered the wide, deep Satellite Channel, bordered by southern Salt Spring Island and eastern Vancouver Island, the breeze filled in nicely from the east, giving us an easy, relaxed run for the first few miles. Near the southern tip of Salt Spring, we trimmed sails and altered course toward Musgrave Rock—a well-known hazard about three miles north. I couldn’t recall the full details, but a past PAYC sea story involving Musgrave’s shallow depths—or its equally unfriendly neighbor, Burial Islet—was enough to earn both a wide berth. Another example of how club lore quietly pays dividends.

The easterly eventually backed towards the north—less than ideal for pushing up Satellite and into the slightly sinuous Sansum Narrows—but the breeze was seasonably warm and sea-state smooth. Steering Jomo close to the wind, we trimmed the sail tight to the center, tacking our way between the steep cliffs of the fjord-like folds of B.C’s southern archipelago.        

​Passing Burgoyne Bay to starboard—tomorrow’s destination—we closed in on Maxwell Point and made one final tack to port, laying the course for the last mile into Maple Bay.  I would’ve happily stretched it out longer. The water was flat, the breeze warm enough, and Jomo was moving smartly at 6–7 knots. But, as they say, all good things… So we fired up the engine, furled the sails, and eased south toward Birds Eye Cove, where our reciprocal space at MBYC was waiting.

We’ve anchored in Wescott’s protected, muddy-bottomed, 18-20 feet of water a dozen times.  But always curious how Jomo fares while we sleep, I did a final check on the chartplotter’s track record and saw the standard waffling around one expects with mild tidal changes.  The northwest end of San Juan Island has got it going (Roche, English H.) but we decided to explore another potentially abandoned destination for day two, Stuart Island.  After a hot cup of jomoke and a weather update, we weighed anchor and enjoyed a leisurely sail across Spieden Channel.  A noticeable current pushed us east, gently gliding Jomo towards Spieden Island and, eventually, between the kelp laden Center Reef and its neighbor, Sentinel Reef.  The Admiral questioned my navigation, as usual.  My reply, as usual, was “I want to get closer”  (the Admiral never likes that answer). “Closer, why?”, she replies.  “To spot the descendants of the non-native deer and sheep game hunters stocked on the privately owned island back in the 1980’s.” I said, sounding a bit like Encyclopedia Brown.  But more to the point, this somewhat recent wildlife experiment was intriguing, and reminded me of the intrusive, feral pigs and goats we frequented sailing and hiking around the Channel Islands off the southern California coast, first stocked by the Spanish explorers in the 1600’s and later by local ranchers in the 1800’s.  

As we left “Safari Island” behind, the breeze filled in, doubling Jomo’s speed from the 3 to 6 knots.  Frankly, I wasn’t in any hurry to end our pleasant day-sail towards Stuart.  But, too soon, in my opinion, we found ourselves tacking up Reid Harbor which was, as we now clearly saw, vacant and all to ourselves.  I squeezed out two more tacks (to the Admiral’s annoyance ;), dropped sails and turned on the pesky motor.  For the next few minutes, Erika and I considered our multitude of completely uninhabited mooring choices.  Part of Washington’s State Marine Parks, Reid offers 13 mooring balls and 192 linear feet of dock space.  If you would rather anchor at no charge, there is ample space just outside the mooring field, in 25-30 feet.  Also, Stuart’s Reid Harbor is home to one of the many Cascadia Marine Trail sites dotted throughout the Puget Sound every 5-8 nautical miles.  If you are a kayak, canoe or other beach able, non-motorized enthusiast, check out https://www.wwta.org/water-trails/cascadia-marine-trails.  After confirming the water depth of the closest dock to shore would be adequate for the next 24 hours (Jomo drafts 9 ft.), we sidled up and secured our bow and stern line.  It was very convenient and, because it was October, ALL ours.  Or was it?   Standing on the empty dock, enjoying the tranquil surroundings, I was overcome with a rotting, pungent odor.  Hmm, it normally takes more than a trouble-free day sail for me to start smelling like a pirate.  Looking below the metal grates, I spied an abundance of crab carcasses and excreta adorning the black dock floats.  I looked over at the family of river otters lounging on the adjacent boat-free dock and gave ‘em all a cynical, smirky “thanks guys” look.  They responded with a cute head titled “you’re welcome”.  I apologized with a quick wave for temporarily using their kitchen slash bathroom as a boat dock, and proceeded to use half our fresh water reserves (it was worth it) to spray off the stinky rubbish.  With the domestic duties done, we pumped up our 10 foot inflatable dinghy, grabbed our daypack, and rowed to the shore-side dock/ trailhead that leads to either Prevost Harbor (picture) or Turn Point.  Prevost, is only a stones throw from Reid, so we usually add the popular 1 mile walk (picture) to the School House/museum (c. 1904), or continue another 2 miles to Turn Point Lighthouse (c. 1936).  The trail is popular because it is relatively short, scenic, with two small museums.  The lighthouse museum is only open July-September but don’t let that stop you from enjoying a walk out to the point.  The self-guided School House Museum is open all year.  The entire island was private until 1952, when the Washington State Parks Commission purchased 93 acres from relatives of an original 19th century homesteader.  Kudos to the WSPC, as well as the Washington Water Trail Association (WWTA), boats of all sizes now have access, albeit limited, to this charming piece of the PNW.        

Our brief stay on the island wrapped up with the inevitable stop at the Treasure Chest, a unique outdoor souvenir cart stocked full of t-shirts, hats, and post cards (picture above right) Operating since the 1980’s, the island family business now includes the option to pay online. Just when you thought shopping in the woods couldn’t get any easier.  Back on Jomo we cooked kabobs on the BBQ and ate among the silence of early autumn in Reid Harbor. Okay everyone, deep breath in… 3,2,1…and release.  Later that evening I was soothed to sleep by the swooshing sound my neighbors made as they swam back and forth along Jomo’s waterline and underbelly.   Guys, I get it, you will have this place all to yourselves by morning. Goodnight, hope to see you next year. Stay tuned for leg 3.

Looking at the finished route (pictured), It seems apparent that we don’t stick around in one spot long.  Without getting into it, I will admit that I’ve always had a bit of wanderlust, wanting to seek out new and adventurous places.  But at the same time, Erika and I don’t have a problem seeking comfort in the familiar, returning to those “been there’s and done that’s” just as well.  For instance, departing from PA late Thursday afternoon, we knew an arrival after sunset into Westcott Bay was a good bet.  Having sailed across Haro Strait, up Mosquito Pass and anchoring in Westcott a number times, we were comfortable with the six hour evening transit. But as boating goes, there are always surprises.  We mostly had pleasant surprises during the cruise, like passing Spike Africa (pictured) off our starboard beam on leg one.  Spike Africa is a fine looking schooner out of Friday Harbor and was used in a Tom Hanks movie.  Later that night we had a surprise that was amusing, at best.  We departed PA around 3pm which made our approach to cross Haro just about sunset.  As it is, Haro can be busy with commercial traffic.  This evening we spied two North bound container ships and a South bound tanker on our AIS/chartplotter that would interfere with a comfortable (and safe) transit across, so we stalled at Kelp Reef Light to let them pass.  About 40 minutes later we continued East under power at about 6 knots.  By 9pm Jomo was just about to enter the Pass when, from the black of night, that not so amusing surprise reared its blue flashing lights off our stern.  Having been stopped by the Coast Guard a few times, we knew the drill…questions, boat documents and the possible probe. The Petty Officer admitted that they had been watching us since our last position during our passage inside Discovery Island.  Either due to a quota or our passage thru Canadian waters that deemed suspicion, it didn’t matter, it was going to be a learning experience for us both.  They learned we were from Port Angeles and had fire extinguishers that were over 10 years old.  I learned that my fire extinguisher, in pristine condition, was out of date.  Later that week I was informed that the Canadian Coasties didn’t have that same policy or “code”.  Whatever.  By 10pm, one hour later, the officers sent us on our way.  With our pink slip, aka “proof of boarding form” in hand, stating we passed the inspection, with the understanding that we will need to renew/replace you know what, we started up the engine and motored into the pitch of Mosquito Pass and, not soon enough, pulled into Westcott Bay to set the hook.  By midnight, 9 hours after leaving PA, Erika and I finally settled into our bunk and called it a night-passage. 

On day five (Oct. 9th) of Jomo’s Autumn whirl-wind work and relax tour of South Van and the Gulf Islands, the decent south began.  Kids and dogs were waiting for us back home.  We planned to depart Thetis Island after Erika’s last meeting of the day.  Not unlike hotels, marinas have checkout times, usually 11a.m.  Erika’s last meeting didn’t end until 2pm so she walked up to the cafe/marina office and asked if a late checkout was okay.  The manager giggled at the question, “take your time”, she said genuinely, noting that we were the only guests in the marina and therefore “it wasn’t a problem in the least.”  Did I mention early Fall is a great time to go cruising?  We would have the same quiet and quaint experience in Maple Bay, our next destination.  
Sunny skies and gentle tail winds made for a very relaxed and scenic sail thru Stuart Channel and, eventually, into the fjord of Sansum Narrows (pictured).  Fourteen nautical miles and three hours later we arrived at the entrance to Bird’s Eye cove, an inlet off Maple Bay and home to the marina and it’s adjacent seaside community.   After striking our sails, we motored down the slender inlet and into our assigned slip.
Later, we counted over 20 empty guest slips, we were all alone, again (pictured).  October 1st marked the shoulder season for the marina and the reduction in the daily moorage rates.  The savings happily went towards dinner at a nice restaurant located at the end of our dock.  One more reason why “Falling” around South Van Isle is a good idea.

Jomo departed Ladysmith Marina around noon for the ten mile passage to Thetis Island.  Before leaving Ladysmith, we planned to stop at Oyster Bay marina to empty our waste tank.  This was the only marina in the area that indicated it had such facilities.  The reputation and policies regarding waste in Canada isn’t new to us but we have been in the habit of pumping our waste properly since Erika and I started living on sailboats back in 1989.  The pump’s location wasn’t clear so I performed a couple drive-bys, eventually spotting the equipment at the very end of a linear dock, packed full of mostly derelict boats.  Due to an unfavorable cross wind, I added a little spice to the throttle and backed Jomo’s starboard quarter along the 15 feet of dock space we had available to us.  It was a little stressful, especially only having a small portion of Jomo’s 43ft secured and the rest hanging out beyond the dock.  A couple locals looked at us like we were crazy, “making such an effort to pump our tank out.”  A few friendly exchanges mirrored their thoughts.  As most of you know, waste facilities in the States are…abundant and free of charge.  Erika and I walked up to the Oyster Bay marina office to pay for tokens required to operate the machine, which came to about seven US dollars.  As a footnote,  we were warned about waiting for a red light to turn green, indicating that it was ready for use, otherwise it would mean the pump is broken, and by the way, no refunds. The man mentioned he “won’t be in the office for the rest of the day anyway.”  We made the walk back to the boat, wondering what we got ourselves into, and inserted a token in the dodgy looking pump and hoped for the best.  The pump displayed the green light but nothing happened.  We tried another token, again, following the indifferent office attendant’s instructions, but again, nothing.  An hour later, Erika emptied the effluent overboard as we blasted across Stuart Channel.

Sunday afternoons, during the peak cruising season, is a great time to acquire a vacant slip or adequate swinging room.  After the weekenders depart, and the local shindigs have ended (Saturday farmer’s market in Ganges, for instance), the lucky few reap the benefits.  But if you can cruise during the shoulder months, April and October, many of the popular cruising spots are pretty quiet all week.  Pulling up to Ladysmith Yacht Club’s guest dock Sunday afternoon was quiet as a church mouse.
The following morning we found out where all those mice worked, at the nearby log mill, from four in the morning till midnight.  A little noisy at times but entertaining during our short stay none the less.  Sunday evening we walked the 40 minutes into town and dined at the Fox and Hound, an English pub recommended by Randy V. (Thx!) and lucky for us, still open.  Maybe we should have grabbed a flashlight for our walk back to the boat that night since most of it was unfamiliar territory and in pure darkness.  It turned into a bit of fun and misadventure.