Galley Wench Tales

Exploring the world through the people we meet
and the food they eat.

July 12, 2012:  Copeland Islands to Roscoe Bay

Seaweed on our anchor
at Copeland Islands
As we got ready to push off, we realized we’d drifted way too close for comfort to a rock.  The concern was when our anchors came up, we’d drift right into the rock.  Our boat hull would not enjoy that encounter.
Wayne first kedges us to
safety, then deals with
4 foot seaweed streamer
weighing down our anchor
Ever the awesome problem solver, Wayne figured he’d kedge us out.  He did this by rowing out in our dinghy and dropping our third anchor, a ways away from the rock.  He then hauled us closer to that third anchor, so as we pulled up the other anchors, that third anchor kept us safe from a rocky encounter.  The great seaweed monsters, however clung with heavy hands to our anchor, huge sheets of it streaming down 4 feet. 
As we sailed away, the panoramic view was amazing, I’m not quite sure what mountains I was looking at, but am guessing they were at least 70 miles away.  There’s no way camera could even begin to do it justice.
Vista seen sailing from Copeland Islands along Thulin passage
Briefly, we were able to sail, in between islands, before their wind shadow (when a large mass position blocks the wind flow) prompted us to fire up our diesel.  While we prefer the quiet of sailing, with a lot of “ground” to cover and not much time, we were more driven by destination than wind direction.  Fortunately, our motor “sips,” using only ¼ gallon / hour.
With the offending crab crap long since cleaned up, Wayne was willing to enjoy some crab and crackers for lunch.  Best crab $4 crab I’ve ever had.
From our anchor in Roscoe Bay
Before long, we entered the channel for Roscoe Bay.  Our arrival was carefully timed, as Roscoe Bay‘s entrance was so shallow, exits and entries were only possible at high tide; twice a day.  In between then, for most boats, ours included, we were landlocked in its bay.
Not long after we arrived, we hopped into our dinghy for a hike to Black Lake, yet another large freshwater lake.  We were looking forward to cooling off, as it was another warm, sunny day.  After our swim, we planned to pick back up sanding our boat rails, which we started on back in Squirrel Cove, as part of our overall boat cleanup started in earnest that day.
Then my ever-spontaneous husband suggested we change our plans.  In response to my skeptical look, he uttered the best ironic line to date on our trip, “Oh don’t be such a whoosie.  It’s just a little bluff hike and you know you want to see it.”  I knew then, we were screwed.  However, it’s rare for me to turn down a challenge.  There was an info board at the trailhead, but the first dozen pages appeared to be a poorly written school project on jellyfish (“Moon jellyfish like to come to the surface at night.  We don’t know why….”).  We gave up 2 hours later of steady uphill hiking even though we believe we were close to summit.  Other than the first 20 minutes, the trail was filled with dead woods, very brown, soundless and devoid of life.  It took an hour and 20 minutes at a steady downhill clip to get back to the trailhead. So much for sanding the boat rails.  It was suppertime and we were hungry.  We took sponge baths, ate supper*, and planned our next day’s journey.
* chicken rice mixed with chicken cooked in onions and garlic, Spike and black pepper, with a 15 oz can of cooked black beans, 2 4-oz cans of salsa (Mexican and Cesara), cumin and chili powder.    Good, but next time plain rice; very salty.
Roscoe Bay moon at 4 am
We determined we’d hiked about 7-miles, round trip, even though we stopped a little short of the final summit at about 2000 feet.  Hikers we passed on our way down later told us the summit, about 10 minutes further than our stopping point,  offered some good but not very panoramic views, as even at the summit, trees blocked the vistas.
We ended the eve planning our next stop, to Toba Inlet, up Waddington Channel…. Tomorrow we’ll check the out warm, fresh water Black Lake as we’ll be killing time until high tide, while the rocks at the mouth of the bay are risky to pass over at low water.