Swindled out of clothes?

At last, the barrels of rain that had dumped down upon us, beginning on the afternoon of Saturday (August 27) when we wound our way into Hague Point Lagoon, began to empty to occasional driplets by Monday evening, and when the rising tide on Tuesday (August 30) provided sufficient depth, we picked our way out through the narrow, shallow channel around several piles of rocks, entered Laredo Channel, and began motoring to the Kitasoo village of Klemtu on Swindle Island, about 25 miles away.

Do some of you know the cowboy song, “The Streets of Laredo”? Here are the first verse’s lyrics:

As I walked out in the streets of Laredo,
As I walked out in Laredo one day,
I spied a young cowboy, all wrapped in white linen,
Wrapped in white linen, as cold as the clay.

So I looked back at Saturday afternoon, Sunday, and Monday, which we spent reading, baking, writing, watching previously-downloaded videos, and checking weather forecasts, and wrote the following:

As we motored out in the Channel, Laredo,
As we motored out in Laredo one day,
We spied some high mountains and foamy surf fountains,
Tall, misty mountains all lonely and gray.

As we motored out in the Channel, Laredo,
As we motored out in Laredo one day,
We heard the winds sighing and saw the gulls flying,
We felt the winds trying to sweep us away!

Today, after an overcast morning,

the skies brightened and we had a beautiful sunny trip eastward through Meyers Passage, then north between two large islands and then south between two until we arrived at Klemtu. What a treat after all the grayness and rain!

There was no room for Braesail in the small harbor, so we circled around past the handsome Kitasoo Big House

and continued on to drop hook here in scenic and silent (except for the rush-sh-shing sounds of rapids and the calls of birds) Clothes Bay, a short distance south of the town.

On the way, we passed some very pretty islands, one of which was fringed with sunbathing seals.

Here in the cove there is no wind, the water is satin-smooth, and long, white, gauzy feather-boas of soft sea mist are curling about, wrapping themselves around the islands, and snaking their way toward the boat.

I’m using my laptop in the cockpit, can hear some sort of small white gulls chattering to each other in hilarious duck-call voices, and can see them trailing the long V’s of their wakes behind them across the otherwise-undisturbed surface of the sea.

[Look back over the posts of the last week to see more and better photos!]