Sunday-Monday, September 27-28, 2026
How could a morning be more beautiful? Sunlight shimmering on a softly-rippled sea’s surface, a barely perceptible breath of wind drifting from a happily chuckling cascade on the shore, and no other sound but an occasional birdcall!
I sat in Braesail’s cockpit while Walt read in the cabin below and cleared the navigation station desk—he actually found a wood surface below the clutter! I read some good sermons and finished editing my photos, publishing my blog post, and emailing some friends, and by mid-afternoon both Walt and I were ready to take a walk on the heavily-wooded shore of Roscoe Bay.
We motored in Coracle to the head of the bay where a creek’s deep green water flowed into it, beached the dingy where there were no razor-sharp oyster shells to slice its bottom, and walked along a short trail to Black Lake, whose clear water shone serenely in the sunshine.
As we began to walk, I noticed a good, strong, straight stick that I thought would make an excellent hiking stick and picked it up. We continued on the trail past some stones, suitable to sit on or to wade across, that bordered the water, with a bench nearby (the lake water is of a “comfortable” swimming temperature by late summer, we’re told, and this area looked like a good “jumping off” place!) and enjoyed our trek among tall trees, waving sword ferns, thick brush, rocks and boulders, the remains of foxglove plants, and stumps and logs on which a fascinating variety of mosses and mushrooms thrived.
Along the forest trail above Black Lake
Up and down small hills we went, and the trail became the bed of a muddy streamlet at one point—I was glad I’d taken along that hiking stick!
At length, we reached a place where a large tree had fallen across the trail, and we decided not to try to climb over it. We returned to the “beach” at the margin of Black Lake, and spent some time sitting in the sun and soaking up the beauty of spot before walking back along the creek to the shore where Coracle awaited us.
Enjoying the tranquil beauty of Black Lake
Here we encountered two women who were completing a long day of kayaking and who looked tired but happy! We walked through the lovely campsite above the beach, and I decided to leave my handy hiking stick against the picnic table there for someone else to use, trusting that, the next time I needed one, I would find another.
Coracle took us next to a spongy, weedy spot on the shore near a skeletal drift log; we could hear our neighboring cascade very clearly. Landing and dragging the dinghy ashore was easy, but scrambling up the sloping, rocky bank beside the stream, which was busy finding its way down into the bay, was not. As I made my way—carefully!—up the hill, I noticed a sturdy stick that was shorter than the one I’d used on the walk to Black Lake, but that would serve me just as well, and I grabbed it. Walt, wearing only sandals, was much more sure-footed than I, and he climbed to a point from which he could hear the falling water well but still could not see it because of the think brush. So I decided not to try to follow him, but used my new hiking stick to help me return safely to the rocks beside the water on the beach. Walt crossed the stream to read some posters on the far side, but I sat on a warm rock, removed my boots and socks, and enjoyed a blissful time danging my feet in the cool (NOT cold!), clear water that was splashing over some stones nearby. I watched a tiny crab, who had appropriated a colorful little sharp-pointed conical shell to serve as his house, maneuver around the submerged stony surfaces, and saw an equally tiny, thin, striped fish dart by as well—my wildlife sightings for the day! Walt returned to tell me that the posters he’d read informed the pubic abut the moon-jellies in the bay, stating that they can technically sting you, but their sting is usually too weak to be felt. Good to know!
As the tide crept up the rocks, we returned to Coracle and then to Braesail,
Braesail and the surrounding forest reflected in a watery mirror
and this time I brought along the smaller hiking stick I’d found on my way up the rocky slope above the stream; I left it in the dinghy for our next excursion, knowing that other similar climbing aids were available on the hillside. We enjoyed a lovely online Compline service and a tummy-warming supper, caught up on computer tasks, and planned our next several days of travel (Monday is supposed to be dark and wet, and we want to be in the Vancouver area by Saturday to visit with our son and his partner, who’ll have another chemotherapy infusion next Tuesday). Though several other boats had joined us in the bay, we anticipated another calm and soundless night floating atop moonlight-silvered, motionless water.
The weather forecasts for Monday were correct: light rain began around 8 am and continued throughout the day, increasing as time passed. In the late afternoon, the wind rose and whistled and moaned through the rigging, and we were glad that we were securely anchored and that most of the storm’s high winds were blowing outside the anchorage!
Walt did a few small jobs around the boat, read articles and did his German exercises, worked on Condo Association business (he’s president of ours) and some travel plans (we need to find a place that will refill our propane bottle, since one of our two bottles ran out today and Walt hooked up the second one to the galley stove), napped, and made supper. I read, worked on blog posts and German exercises, wrote email, had a wonderful visit on the phone with a church friend, napped, enjoyed supper, cleaned up the galley, and listened to the sounds of the wind and rain. Tomorrow morning we plan to leave this beautiful “bay that has everything” (shelter from storms, clear sea water, fresh, fragrant air, gorgeous surroundings, lovely shores to explore, many stern-tying pins so that many boats can be accommodated, campsites and pit toilets, an easy walk to a lake for swimming and other hiking trails, a waterfall with a hose from which water jugs can be filled, another shore-side cascade, two small creeks, and more), and head for the city of Powell River about 25 miles to the south. Now, it’s time to let the rain wash us into slumber.
