Desolation Revisited

Desolation is defined as:

A state of complete emptiness or destruction.

Anguished misery or loneliness.

When Captain George Vancouver charted these waters in 1792 he found this area so remote and foreboding he called it Desolation Sound. Pity he didn’t come sailing in the summer…



 

With its endless coves and inlets Desolation Sound is a boater’s paradise,



And at this time of year it is anything but desolate!



Seems that everyone is looking for a place to be alone, a little ‘desolation’, a little down time.

Wordsworth had it right:

“The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune…”
--William Wordsworth, first lines of his sonnet (1807)


So we thought we’d have another look at this paradise just beyond our doorstep (2 1/2 hrs. sail time away) and see if there was room for us to be alone here too!

We had company for supper the first night…


The water was some of the warmest ocean water we’ve found yet. Delightful swimming!



And we dinghied ashore for a hike to the top of this steep little landmass—



--through cool  ferny  rainforest where we met the jolly(?) green giant…

 

…right on up and over, to warm and dry arbutus/salal forest and a view of a lily-clad lake far below…



And of course there were flowers to take pictures of…



When we’d had enough of enjoying the desolation, we invited out some friends for company and steak dinner (which they so graciously provided!)



…and hosted a slumber party for all the tiny night creatures which wheedled their way through screens and under sheets and feasted on us all the night long!  Note: There are worse things than mosquitoes; now we know.  Did Captain Vancouver meet these formidable pests in his travels?  And what did they do without “Off”?! Even a boater’s paradise is not without its little miseries…

But the beauty of the ‘desolation’ here far outweighed the inconvenience of sleeping with ‘bedbugs’ and I’m ever so grateful for the captain who made it all possible!
-

-LS

Touring Paradise

Well, OK, so right up front let me confess, today it’s not paradise.  Here we are in July, the 4th of July no less, and I’ve lit a fire in the woodstove to ward off the damp chill of another rainy gray day…but I’m reliving the happier days we’ve had this week…

Company rarely comes this far off the beaten path.  But this week we had a second cousin visiting from England—his first visit to Canada.  So we had to do the royal tour of Powell River and surrounds…
We squeezed in all the adventures we could starting with a tandem ride around Inland Lake.  Yes, we have more than one tandem so we in fact double tandemed around the Lake on a brooding-but-not-yet-raining morning, stopping for snacks and stone ‘skimming’, finishing the 13km. circuit just before the rain began in earnest.

On a fine windy day of mixed sun and cloud (and a bit of spitting rain) we headed off under full sail to find sanctuary in our beloved Copelands.   With just enough wind and mishap to make an adventure we had a full day of it---the motor quit at an important interval, but was readily diagnosed and put right.  Jim’s long beloved hat went overboard, and then the pike pole that was to retrieve it!…The pike pole was retrieved despite high winds ably manipulated by Captain Jim.  Unfortunately the old felt Fedora was lost from view in the scuffle and likely sank. sigh.

But the islands were lovely as always…

On the lee side, out of the wind I wandered on a cliff among the treetops where little birds flitted and tweeted about finding refuge from the wind.  Hummingbirds came diving to spin in space staring at this new sight—an interloper in their private arboretum…

We had a campfire and introduced our company to the marvels of roasted marshmallows and the sticky sweetness of some-mores…And ‘smokies’ too were a first… Hotdogs never taste so good as roasted on a stick over a campfire.

Tromping about we looked at oyster beds and found these strange mysteries recently sprung from the earth… not iron at all, but some sort of fungi…

And eventually, when we’d eaten, napped, hiked about and generally delayed as long as seemed feasible waiting for the wind to die down a bit, we headed homeward the long way, tacking,  into an only slightly diminished Southeaster.  My captain was in his element; I was glad to get back to finish that piece of the tour!

And so goes life in paradise—much like where you are…not all sunshine, but always an opportunity for adventure of some sort…

--LS