the reverse curve of time

~ From Nate ~

We’re nestled into Walsh Cove, another of Coop’s 2001 kayak spots. Coop got us anchored and stern-tied yesterday afternoon while I hopped to Refuge Cove for another “last resupply for a while.” Three last week I think… Grasshopper makes it a little too easy.

Wait, we thought we were going to Walsh Cove 3 or 4 days ago. How did we just get here yesterday?

After much deliberation and several re-reads of the charts and cruising guides, we left Roffey Island slowly, in no rush to leave this new favorite anchorage. Whispy clouds spotted the great green hills as they had most of our days there. We had a plan: to Walsh Cove in advance of transiting the Yacultas. En route, I would hop to Refuge for “final provisions.”

So we went ahead with that plan, the Crow heading north up Waddington Channel while I hopped west. Refuge was great again – Charlie the gas man and his girlfriend, the slight grocery store lady, making money in the summer while they try the YouTube sailing lifestyle (“Living Instead” is their channel – I haven’t had a chance to watch it yet). More supplies in hand/bags, I used their $3 Wi-Fi to download more charts and the Salish Sea Pilot, a very cool and interactive digital cruising guide. The final chore was to head to the garbage dock.

En route, I saw a catamaran named Legato that perked up my spidey-boat-sense. We’ve often told the story of passing a catamaran with a name like that in Grenville Channel during R2AK – right after our scariest day of the trip. As they motorsailed down with 20 knots behind them (on the nose for us), we heard the radio squawk “Small sailing dinghy, small sailing dinghy, small sailing dinghy – this is Legato in Grenville Channel. Are you ok?”

So I swung by the anchored catamaran and asked if anyone was aboard. A woman (Francine) appeared and I asked if they’d been in Grenville Channel in 2016. She wasn’t sure and called in to her husband John. They LOVED Grasshopper and John said yes, they were in Grenville then, returning from a trip to Haida Gwaii, and yes, they had hailed a small sailboat one day. “That was US!” I exclaimed, lightning and lasers shooting out of my overstimulated synapses.

Needing to both learn more and catch my breath/senses, I asked to pull up alongside for a minute and they graciously grabbed Grasshopper’s gunwales. “I can’t believe it’s YOU!” I kept saying. They asked more about GH and I told them we were towing it behind my wooden double-ender built in the Gorge on Cortes, and we’d come up to see the builder and explore.

“You don’t mean Ron & Helen, do you?!” John said in his jovial tone, as if always in a Monty Python skit.

“Yes!” I said. “I bought the Crow and we love her so much. How do you know Ron and Helen?”

“My god!” John said. “We’ve known Ron and Helen for 45 years; they’re dear friends. I saw the Crow when Ron was building her. She’s my favorite boat; a dear old buddy. We’re hoping to meet Ron and Helen in Roscoe Bay tonight.”

“What?! Ok, then I need to go catch the Crow and tell them we have a new plan. More catching up tonight when we see you!”

So instead of learning about them in Refuge Cove, I left (after a quick and entertaining garbage dock stop), dazzled by concentric, swirling rings of “infinite cosmic energy,” as Oma called it. I texted and called Coop and Julia to no avail, so we hopped as fast as we could towards Waddington Channel. Eventually, through dropped calls, I got the Roscoe Bay destination across and they turned the Crow around. We had a few hours before the entrance to Roscoe Bay would have enough water to enter, so we met up at Pendrell Sound, set Grasshopper on their tether, and took the time to motor all the way up to the head of the sound and back, loving the easy pace and massive, stunning beauty.

We got to Roscoe Bay at 5:45pm and slowly made our way in, anchoring near the waterfall by the entrance and waiting for the others. John and Francine arrived and said they’d anchor at the head, and Ron probably would too. We took a “pilothouse break” then followed, getting a great stern tie and setting up. Coop kept rowing around, chatting with folks we’d met at Heriot Bay on a well-equipped Baba 30 (“I took her for one last sail after deciding to sell her, and well… that was 1994.”). Tidewater – Ron’s new-to-him C&C 41 that took over the Crow’s mooring – came through the opening, Coop still rowing, and we all said hi. They stern tied on the opposite (north) side. Devin and Ron rowed over and Ron asked if he could hang on the Crow with us – of COURSE!

We sat soft down below with BC hazy IPA and sausage sandwiches, listening to Ron tell more of the Crow’s history. DREAM-E! As it got dark, Ron figured it was time to head back, so I rowed him over. Right as I dropped him off, sprinkles opened up to a downpour, a real onslaught, and I couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably as a movie-style deluge soaked the whole bay – but especially me, the only person outside.

I laughed all the way to the Crow, and while I tied up, climbed aboard, and shed my drenched outer layers. I felt an encompassing power and humor in the rain, pouring over and out of our awnings; like a high-five and a hug at the end of a most auspicious and serendipitous day.