Chapter 5: Shoot the Moon
We end up staying at West Jarvis Island for two days. It is one of our favorite stops of the trip - right up with the likes of Columbia Cove. To quote Jose, "this anchorage is very centrally located". And centrally located it is. It is a short Avon ride to many of the nearby islands in the Broken Group. We explore Jarvis Lagoon that night by Avon. Jarvis Lagoon is interesting and quiet, but has a little too much "mosquito potential" for our tastes. In addition to being centrally located, the anchorage on West Jarvis is well protected, has a good bottom and the water temperature gets to about 65 degrees Fahrenheit in the afternoon - perfect for swimming. Anyway, we eat more steak and potatoes and as usual, end the evening with Hearts. Jose finally has some competition in Hearts as Henley appears to be a bit of a Hearts-Shark. I lose every single trick that night except for the last where I accidentally end up shooting the moon. I of course pretend it was planned.
That night, while we are playing Hearts we are monitoring VHF channel 16 as normal. As I said before, VHF channel 16 is reserved for emergencies and establishing contact with other boaters. In the U.S., traffic on 16 is carefully monitored by the FCC and it is easy to get slapped with a $10,000 fine for any type of horseplay. That night we are listening to some random Canadian fisherman chatting away on the CH 16 airwaves just like it is a telephone. They finally cap the conversation with "it's foggy out here. I can't see dick". We laugh, and "I can't see dick" becomes our phase of choice for a while whenever we discuss visibility.
The next day is highlighted by the breaking of the garlic press. Most dishes prepared on the Patience involve four primary ingredients: garlic, onions, cayenne pepper and curry powder. The loss of the garlic press is a major setback. Upset, we spend the day in the Avon exploring the Tiny Islands (very nice), Turtle Bay (so, so - sort of like Roche Harbor North) and Hand Island . We spend hours on Hand Island exploring the beaches, lounging, tanning and reading. Hand Island has three superb beaches - all are on the north side of the island. The west most beach is very pretty, but is best with a morning or early afternoon sun.We see several yakers on Hand Island, but that is about it. Finally, the wind starts picking up and we decide we better head back to the Patience.
The wind has changed direction. We have grown accustomed to the westerly and northwesterly winds that have prevailed for most of the trip. This afternoon the wind has backed 180 degrees and is now blowing from the southeast. Those that are familiar with the Pacific Northwest know a southeast wind in the middle of summer is generally not a good sign. That night we have an incredible sunset and the old sailors rhyme, "red sky at night, sailors delight…" comes to mind.
Sure enough, that night I am sleeping on deck and the rain starts. I clamber into the cabin to finish my sleep. The next morning brings gray skies and drizzle. The barometer has dropped 14 millibars in about 14 hours. The southeasterly has picked up and is blowing through our previously quiet anchorage. When we originally anchored, we had positioned ourselves with the bow heading northwest into the prevailing wind at the time. Now the wind has backed and is putting undue pressure on our stern line. Jose notes that things might get a little dicey during our departure from West Jarvis. We slack the stern line as much as possible while we take in the anchor rode. Finally, we leave the stern line tied to its rock and hoist the rest of the ground tackle. We exit West Jarvis Island and once the Patience has some sea room I head back in the Avon and retrieve the stern line.
We are now headed for an anchorage on the northeast side of Benson Island . For those that have seen the "West Coast of Vancouver Island" cruising guide, this moorage is the spot that is featured on the cover of that great book. Our passage to Benson Island is wet. Outside of Effingham Bay, we see a lone killer whale headed east. As we near the anchorage it becomes apparent that the entrance in treacherous. We slowly nose in with Jose on the bow pulpit and Henley reading off the depth. My hair is rapidly going gray as we edge in. Finally, we are in, but I am not much more comfortable. The anchorage is almost completely surrounded by rocks, some of which are only about 50 - 75 feet from the Patience. The surge from the ocean swell is crashing off the various reefs that surround us. There is not much room to maneuver. We drop the Bruce at the head of the anchorage and back down to set it. It takes two tries, but finally the anchor gets through the kelp and holds. Next I warp my two stern lines together to form a massive 600 foot mega stern line. We secure the bitter end to the Patience and I take the rest of the line in the Avon and motor to a reef I want to secure the stern line to. The surge of the swells, dense kelp and weight of the now submerged stern line make it very difficult to get on to the reef to secure the line. I end up nearly falling in several times in the 55 degree water (note water temperature drop from inner Barkley Sound) before I finally get the stern line fastened to my rock. After completion, I hear applause from the crew. While all of this has been going on, the weather has improved again and the wind has died down to a nice breeze.
I return to Patience. Before the sun sets, I take off on a photo shoot of this beautiful anchorage while Henley and Jose cook up some food. I shoot a roll of film and come back to another amazing dinner. We play some Hearts and then get ready to hit the sack. We decide that this anchorage has taken the "Most Gray Hairs Added During Approach Award" away from Sea Otter Cove to the north. We find this anchorage nice once we are securely anchored, but wonder if the beauty is worth the additional stress. I finalize my opinion that night, when I sleep all of about two hours due to the continual rolling. Jose sleeps on the sole in the cabin because he can't stay in his bunk due to the motion. This is a beautiful place, but hazardous to get into and very rolly.
The next morning we depart for home. It will take us three or four days to get home. We exit Barkley Sound and steer southeast along Vancouver Island. Our destination for the day is Port Renfrew , the southern terminus of the West Coast Trail (mentioned previously). The day turns out to be beautiful. The air temperature is 70 - 80 degrees Fahrenheit, we have a very light westerly wind and a long rolling swell. We motor along at about five knots, while Magic Mike steers an awesome course for hours on end. The crew concentrates on reading, tanning, listening to music and drinking beer. We finally arrive at Port Renfrew and drop anchor at the only semi-protected anchorage in the southeast end of the inlet. This anchorage (if you could call it that) lives up to reputation and is horribly rolly - even worse than Benson Island. I spend most of the night securing banging lines, spice containers, cutlery and about anything else that could possibly move and make noise in the swell. Port Renfrew is probably a great emergency stopover in a storm, but as a destination stop, it sucks. If you are stuck here - make sure nothing will make noise at night (not an easy task) and keep you up.
After a poor nights sleep, we awake late the next day and head for Sekiu/Clallam Bay . Sekiu is almost due south of Port Renfrew, across the Straits of Juan de Fuca on the United States side of the strait. The day is clear and beautiful like yesterday. We are not in a rush and motor along slowly with the main up to stabilize the boat in the westerly swell. I watch one of the most beautiful sunsets of my life as the sun sets behind us right over Cape Flattery and Tatoosh Island. As we look over Patience's transom, the Olympic Pennisula in Washington State is to our left and Vancouver Island is to our right. The view is a wonderful sight and a great conclusion to our trip. Near Sekiu, the ebbing tide has about a 1.5 - 2.0 knot negative effect on our speed. We approach Sekiu at night and moor at the northwest end of the bay at Van Ripers Resort . The approach at night proves simple in the calm conditions. I clear U.S. customs by phone - we are back on U.S. soil.
I believe Van Ripers Resort and most of Sekiu is primarily a sport fishing resort. I think years ago this was a destination spot, but the area has fallen on slower times lately. The whole town has a bit of a ghost town feel to it. Despite all this, we give Sekiu a great rating. This is a great half way point or stopover on your way out to Barkley Sound, or anywhere on the west coast of Vancouver Island. Sekiu is much better protected from prevailing westerlies than is Port Renfrew on the opposite side of the strait. In addition, the staff at Van Ripers is friendly and the stores are reasonably well stocked. One oddity of Van Ripers is their dockage. Because of the shoaling mud shoreline and the fact that their docks were evidently designed for small sports fishing craft - the docks do not accommodate ocean sailing craft well. First, the docks are extremely long and also have no cleats. More importantly, there is very little depth off these docks. We moored at the very end of the longest dock and at low tide (-0.5 at Neah Bay) we only had about three or four feet of water under Patience's six foot keel. I have not found much written about Sekiu/Clallam Bay in my cruising guides, but it is a great stopover point on your way to or from Barkley Sound, but consult your tide table before going to sleep.

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