Monday, May 28th/07
a little island (tiny) off of Bligh Island, near the isthmus we camped on Day 1, Nootka Sound
It's nice and hot. It's beautiful. Sarah & I got in early to camp on Vernaci, and b/c the beach is small & rocky & in shade, I paddled out here to hang out before dinner. I was going to go to the isthmus, but someone's camped there, so I found this instead.
I'm up on a cliff, sitting on grass on a little ledge in the rock. It really feels like someone's sat here before. It's too perfect. The Nuu-chah-nulth lived here for so long; they found all the perfect little spots and knew of every beach. No doubt they pulled out here. In fact, this whole little beach is empty clam shells. Don't clams live underground, under the sand? Yes. Maybe they harvested the clams somewhere near here, and then sat on the rocks & shucked them. Maybe the spot I'm sitting on was where someone high up sat, like a chief or the queen, someone who didn't have to work, just watched. It's nice here.
Sarah & I got up at 6:30 & were on the water by 8:30, just what we aimed for. 8:15 really. The surf launch was pretty easy, nothing compared to Calvin Creek. So we left Beano Creek in bright sunshine again, blue skies, and only a little bit of wind. This is 8 days in a row without rain! In May. Incredible. This has been such a good trip. I've got to call Mum & tell her I'm taking her & Tess out kayaking this summer. I'm so lucky; she really wants to go. I should just do it. Maybe the Broken Islands. Somewhere I want to go, somewhere cool. Doesn't have to be the Strait. They won't care if I've never been there; they'll trust me. I should just choose a date they can both do and just go for it. Tess too; that'll be great! I'm thinking three days or so. Four maybe. I need to work. Oh, it'll be good. A different kind of trip. My present to them. I'll cook. They can do lunches.
Anyway, so we went down the coast, with a lot of rebound waves, and around Maquinna Point. You sure wouldn't want to do that in worse weather. We only had maybe 6 knots of wind, but it was big. Not scary at all for us, but really confused & rocky and lumpy, boomers, whitewash everywhere. We took some fun little sneaks, rode it. It was mellow & fun & I was glad I have the skills & Sarah too. Same as for this whole trip.
After rounding the point, we pulled in at a beach to pee & take layers off. It was surfy, though. We wanted to stay & beachcomb but couldn't b/c the tide was rising & the beach was steep. I tried to turn my boat around in the water to face the right way before getting in, tried to beat the surf set. But it came too quick for me & suddenly my boat was broadside to the surf, riding the wave towards me. I grabbed it & thought for sure it was going to get a cockpit full of water & roll in the surf, my gear everywhere. But somehow I was lucky (again) (thank you Jah, Da, & Scotty), and it only got a tiny bit of water in it.
We kept going & got out 2 miles later at Friendly Cove (Yuquot), where there was the major village site, and where Jewitt was held captive as slave by Chief Maquinna, and where Cook anchored for a month & traded before beginning to the Sandwich Islands (Hawaii, I think), & apparently got killed there by natives.
We pulled in & went to see Ray & Terry. Only Ray was there. His family is the last descendants of the tribe to still live at the village. It was neat imagining a long lineage back to the people before white people even came, at least 45oo years but probably more. He and his wife live there, and his son Sanford, who's a carver, & Sanford's son Darryl I think, & Darryl's son Isaiah. Isn't that cool? We met Isaiah when Ray came over to tell us we should get going. Oh, I just saw a river otter really close. It surfaced & breathed, looked around, dove back under with its long sleek tail. This log hasn't been much of a long sleek tale but I hope it's interesting, b/c the days themselves have been amazing.
I liked what the museum said about Nuu-chah-nulth spirituality. They had one god, and integrated their spirituality into all aspects of their lives, constantly praying & giving thanks. Everyone had their secret spot for ritual bathing/cleansing & worshipping. The bathin, every day, year round, was a show of sacrifice & earnestness in their faith, and they used it to gather personal strength for the day.
Then we went back to our boats, & made lunch, and Ray told us to move on because "the chiefs are coming and they might want to charge you more than I did." (We paid ten dollars each for landing, which is fully reasonable). Sarah wanted to say hi to the lighthouse keepers, who are also at Friendly Cove, but we had to move on. As we were paddling out, a bunch of chiefs got out of a water taxi, looking like normal people of course, and greeted us as they walked up the pier.
We had the wind behind us and a nice easy paddle to Vernaci Island, where we're camped. Near the end, we went between a couple other islands instead of straight to Vernaci, and it was so cool. The wind blew us all the way up the channel, and we just kicked back, didn't paddle, watching the beautiful deep & lighter greens, turquoises of the water pass by, the mossy shoreline, the snow-covered mountains ahead of us. Just kicked back and enjoyed it.
Okay, I have a little more to write but the tide's creeping up on my kayak & I want to see how Sarah's doing. She paddled out to the little rock in front of our camp & I think she has her kayak afloat by the bowline. Time to go make dinner, my night -- burritos. Our last night out. Still hot & sunny at 6 thirty. Stoked. Time to move.
still May 28th, still Day 11
Vernaci Island, Nootka Sound
10:12 pm
It's so nice to be out here. This is probably the best trip I've ever been on. The only thing is it makes me want to be out here with someone I'm in love with. A guy who's as competent & efficient & organized in kayaking & camping as I am, but we're in love & we're out here. That'd be amazing. A trip that runs this smoothly, with my man. That would complete it, absolutely. But it's been so great anyway.
Now it's late, we're sitting by the fire, right by the water, tide coming up, burning yellow cedar, drinking tea. it's so quiet now that we're not on the open coast anymore. No surf. A grouse is pounding in the distance.
This campsite's cool. It's got lots of woods, which is different. Most of the other ones we've been to have thick undergrowth behind the beach. This opens up, though, & goes up a hill, with lots of space, trails, and big cedar trees. Really big. Lots of them have the long strip out of them; they've been harvested by the native people. There's a creek here too, although the beach is probably only fifteen paces long. When we got here I followed the trails to the top of the hill, & then it went down into a swamp. Sarah went back & I kept going, & then when I turned around I was pretty much lost. I couldn't find the trail back. Luckily I still had the sense of which way to go, into which part of the forest. I had to bushwhack my way into the forest, & then bushwhack it to the top of the hill. Still couldn't see trails, & I called to Sarah but she didn't hear me. Then I heard a boat scrape up the beach & I knew she was down there. I guess you could get lost back there. But here we are. Another great day. When I'm back in town, I want to wake up wondering what good things are going to happen, anticipating the singularity of the day, the way I do out here.
And, I forgot to say, the rocks are moved at this beach to clear an opening to land a boat on, like I've seen before here and in Alaska. Apparently the slaves are the ones who cleared the rocks. This is like a gnome hunt on a large scale. If that makes sense. Something I want to see so bad, and look for signs everywhere. Except this was really real.
The tide line's almost at our kitchen. 11:00. God nat.
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