Wednesday and Thursday, August 26-27, 2026
Hooray!! Some light wind chased the obnoxious smoke away from the harbor during Tuesday night, and I slept well, though a spear of moonlight was so sharp that it pierced my slumber sometime after midnight! The much clearer air made the two-hour trip from Prevost Harbor to Blind Bay on Shaw Island quite enjoyable, although the breeze, while possibly strong enough for us to sail with, was coming at Braesail directly over her bow (a boat cannot sail straight into the wind), and so we elected to motor and charge the lithium batteries in the process. As we approached Blind Bay, the low tide revealed numerous rocks, all of which were decorated with lumpy sea-lions, many on the larger rocks, and single sea lions on the smaller ones–it was if the animals had emerged organically from the stones like buds bursting from bulgy plant stems!
We spent a pleasant, relaxing afternoon engaging in our usual tasks and activities and enjoying the sunshine and cool zephyrs, and at about 5:30 pm we motored in Coracle to the Shaw Island ferry terminal to visit the charming small-but-well-stocked general store.
We bought milk and yogurt, and locally-produced ice cream (my lemon-drop gelato reminded me of the “lemon snow” we used to produce as kids by squeezing lemon juice onto mounds of fresh snow in big bowls!), enjoyed our ice cream while sitting outside the store on a comfortable bench, and at length returned in Coracle to “the Mother Ship” with our dairy products. We ate our evening meal in the cockpit, I watched a ferry landing at the Shaw Island terminal in the evening light, and we were thankful for the much cleaner air the day had brought!
We slept late on Thursday morning, and Walt did some work on the Spectra, our water-maker (desalinator), cleaning and then changing the filters and making adjustments, and he soon had it running nicely and producing its usual quantity of about six gallons of fresh water per hour. At a little after noon, we raised Braesail’s anchor and motored the short distance to the marina in West Sound on Orcas Island under skies across which flocks of cloud-critters frisked and frolicked. We tied up without too much difficulty at the busy dock,
and Walt walked the short distance up to the store on-shore to pick up some thinner Dyneema, out of which to make additional “soft shackles,” and some bits of hardware for other projects.
A dock-hand helped us pull out of our rather-tight spot when Walt’s errand had been run, and Walt’s skill in making a tricky maneuver was applauded by two men in a nearby boat: “Well done!” they exclaimed, grinning warmly.
Off we motored to the Deer Harbor Marina, arriving there after a trip of about 40 minutes’ duration and feeling, very happily, as if we were coming home (Braesail was moored there most of the time from October 2025 until May 2026, and she will be docked there again for the winter beginning later this fall). Two young men helped us tie up at the fuel dock so that we could refill the gasoline can in Coracle’s belly, but as the fuel filled the can, they noticed that it was leaking, and so Walt trotted up the dock to the small general store/cafe/ice cream parlor to purchase a new one. With the new can filled, Walt and I returned to the store to buy ice cream cones (of course!)—blueberry for me, this time. (When we’re traveling, we enjoy having a decent breakfast, and then eating “real” ice cream “for lunch” when we can, as breakfast’s “dessert” and dinner’s “happy hour appetizer,” and our appetites are never affected!).
It wasn’t long before Walt had picked up two computer-related items that he’d had mailed to the Deer Harbor Marina office for him; we greeted and then took our leave of Mark, the friendly and helpful harbor-master, and motored off to Port Browning, located between North and South Pender Islands in the British Columbia Gulf Islands. During a two-and-a-half-hour journey, we cleared Canadian Customs by phone with no trouble (“O, Canada! It’s SUPER to be back!”), and arrived at about 5:30 pm in the large harbor containing many vessels bobbing gently on mooring buoys, at docks, and at anchor; we found a good place in which to “drop the hook” without much difficulty. Time for naps before dinner!
Following a lovely meal in the cockpit, during which mesmerizing orange/gold-and-gray-clad shape-shifting clouds performed a slow-motion ballet above us,
Walt went below to read and I stayed in the cockpit in the fading light to watch the sky.
Conditions for viewing the almost-total lunar eclipse that began at sundown could not have been better: nearly-cloudless skies, a mere whisper of a breeze, minimal ambient light from the masthead anchor-lamps of surrounding boats and the glowing windows of houses on shore, a velvety coolness hovering above the water on a mild evening, and the boat swinging slowly and gently as the moon rose and shadowed. Once it was visible above the ridge of a hill, at about 8:15 pm, the moon was already in partial eclipse, and I stayed in the cockpit, alternately writing this blog post and watching through binoculars as the moon darkened into a chocolatey-reddish-brown sphere with a slight sliver of silver at its top that looked much more three-dimensional than usual.
Brighter stars gradually emerged and formed constellations that I’ve been familiar with since childhood, and at about 10 pm, when the moon had returned to a glowing curved cup pouring a stream of glitter into the waters of the harbor,
I returned to Braesail’s main cabin to clean up the galley and finish this post. What a spectacular evening of celestial glory had been given to me to enjoy!
Braesail - A grand yacht in the Salish Sea 