A nail-biter passage: East Cove to Columbia Cove around the Brooks Peninsula. August 9.
27 August 2009 | Columbia Cove: 50 08.1N, 127 40.9W
Photo: Rocks in the rain in Columbia Cove.
"Seven," I said.
"No eight," replied Steve. "We have plenty of time."
It was the night before our planned trip around the Brooks Peninsula, the windiest and roughest stretch of water on Vancouver Island's West Coast, and we were arguing about what time to leave the next morning. As it turned out, we were both too optimistic; we should have left at six a.m.
Our last two roundings, coming down from Alaska in 2006 and 2008, had been in northwest gales -- uncomfortable, but fast passages. This time we would be sailing against southeast winds of 15-25 knots. A southeast gale was on its way but not due to arrive until late in the evening when we planned to be safely anchored in the Bunsby Islands.
At first things went well. The winds were light and we made good time, first under power, then under full main and 120 genoa. Then, as the winds built to 30 knots, we progressively shortened sail -- first changing the jib to the self-tender, then putting the first reef in the main, then the second. Despite the strong winds, we seemed to be only crawling along, fighting a strong northbound current that kept our speed over the ground to below 4 knots, two knots less than our speed through the water. A fog settled in, then brief downpours so we caught only glimpses of the peninsula and the off lying Solander Island. I began to worry that we wouldn't make it in before dark. Checleset Bay, on the south side of the Brooks, is a maze of rocks and although the rocks keep the waves down, they make night sailing dangerous.
When we finally rounded Clerke Point, on the southeast corner of the peninsula, the wind backed to the east and instead of heading off wind to the Bunsbys we were still going to windward. We changed our destination and to Columbia Cove on the southeast shore of the Broooks. It was a small cove and if there were more than two or three boats, we'd have to go on, but it was only six miles away and a bit off the wind.
An hour later, the dusk was settling in under thick clouds as we rounded up inside Jakobsen Point to let down the sails. I heard wind in the rigging and waves crashing on rocks and saw the dark shape of the peninsula above us. We could see the tall mast of one sailboat in the cove. We motored in to find the tall mast belonged to Morgana, the boat we'd tied alongside in Coal Harbour. Next to Morgana rode a converted troller. The two best spots were taken. We had once weathered a storm here with four other boats, but three were on moorings which have since been removed. And the cove seems to be getting shallower, probably silting from the creek. Circling the anchorage, Osprey touched bottom in one spot but Steve gunned the engine and got us off. We finally had to anchor at the edge of the channel, partially exposed to the winds. But the waters were calm and the wind was down. By now the weather radio had upgraded the gale to a storm for later that night -- I was glad we weren't still out in the ocean off the Brooks Peninsula!
"Have you had dinner?" called Carolyn of Morgana as we put down our anchor. "We have a lamb roast just out of the oven." There were compensations to an anchorage with other boats, I decided.
The roast was delicious and the conversation enjoyable, but at 10 o'clock we could hear the wind howling through Morgana's rigging and the rain drumming on its cabin roof. We had to get back to Osprey. The wind was too strong to row even the short distance to the boat, so Jim graciously put his outboard on his dinghy to get us there.
Back on Osprey we spent an uneasy night taking turns watching the depth sounder and GPS to make sure we weren't dragging. At low tide we had only one foot under the keel; not very reassuring. We'd done the right thing to come into the cove, but next time we'll allow more time to round the Brooks to give us time to get to the Bunsbys.