A little wind and a lovely walk

Wednesday, September 24

A very quiet night with NO perceptible wind (where did it go?) opened into yet another blue-and-gold morning. We ate, read, and did our German exercises in the warmth of our “sun porch” (the enclosed cockpit), and I enjoyed looking at the shore scenery and the variety of boats moored in the cove, listening to the birds, and hearing and watching a large heron screech “kwaaaarock” and then zoom from a tree on the eastern shore to a rock on the western.

At about 2 pm, I literally slipped into Coracle, and Walt rowed us to the dinghy dock at the foot of the shore ramp, from which we began a most enjoyable exploration of some of the forested areas surrounding the northern end of the cove. We spent about two hours walking on well-maintained trails, stopping at information kiosks, and pausing to relish the beauty of the trees, ferns, salal hedges, moss-carpeted rocks and logs, marsh grasses, and views of the sea. We saw, near the marine park camping area, a number of benches and picnic tables and a small stone “igloo” with a mossy wooden roof; the house in which, beginning in the 1940s, the Conovers, the owners of the island and the developers of a successful holiday resort there, once lived; the remains of the apple and pear orchard planted by the former owner of the island who died in 1927; the famous “honeymoon cottage” (also called the “Lunch Room” in some cruising guides and the “Mess Hall” on a small sign near the entrance, but I call it the “Plaque Shack” because it is now covered, inside and out, with pieces of all sorts of materials inscribed with the names of people and boats and the years of their visits to the structure);

an ancient (1940s?) truck sitting in a small meadow and rusting into dust in the midst of an relentless onslaught of plants; a little quickly-disappearing snake; a grassy, log-filled level space from which we could discern Braesail and other boats in the cove;

some spaces between trees from which we could see the sea and Galiano Island on the other side of the channel; and the marshy head of neighboring Princess Cove (which we’ve visited a number of times).

It was a perfect afternoon for such an excursion—cloudless skies, warm sunshine, and an occasional puff of cool breeze near the shore of Princess Cove!

Upon our return to Braesail, Walt napped in the aft cabin and I stretched out on the fore-deck to soak in the sounds and scents of the cove. Suddenly, I heard an unexpected clunking and sat up in time to see a highly unusual, quite large, solid-dark-blue vessel–a catamaran with two hulls joined by a platform, with a tall mast at the bow of each hull and a wind-powered generator at the stern of each! It maneuvered slowly into the northern end of the cove, dropped anchor, backed up almost to the rocky eastern shore, stern-tied, and moved out again into the cove. The woman in the bow was dressed in “old-fashioned sailor style” with a kerchief around her head, a red-and-white horizontally-striped long-sleeved shirt, and loose pantaloons. I thought that Walt would want to row over to the boat at some point and learn a bit about it!

We spent a tranquil evening enjoying a pasta supper, reading and writing, listening to music, and watching sailing (south along the coast of Alaska) videos. Before climbing into bed at about 11 pm, I made my way into the cockpit and was able to see the uncountable glittering stars, of all sizes and in all sorts of configurations, spilled across the black-velvet sky above the sleeping satin sea. A rare treat, for which I was VERY grateful!