O Brother, Where Art Thou?

The Bloodhound

Jupiter is performing like a Bloodhound this summer, sniffing out previously unknown and unexplored inlets and outlets, hunting imaginative ways to navigate the wild waters of British Columbia.

The crew find themselves towed along by an old dog tricked out with a new Garmin Marine Satellite Compass, pawing at poorly described narrow passages leading to speculative overnight anchorages.

The Odyssey

A mariner friend recommends an obscure inlet named Tuwartz which, in one ancient coastal dialect, roughly translates as “Splendid end-of-earth hangout with rocky rapids of fresh water sloshing in and out from dark lagoon making mysterious currents and guarded by shallow serpentine narrows requiring navigational delusions and guesswork.”

The crew learns nothing from cruising guides and other resources, but everything proves true. We find Tuwartz so compelling that we visit north and southbound for two nights in each direction.

Jupiter’s transit through Tuwarts requires two turns to avoid the worst.

Gaining Tuwartz from Squally Channel feels like steering Jupiter along a gradually ascending sea level, through a twisted stream flowing any direction to an alpine headwater.

The Chain Gang

Anchorage can be found in 2 to 7 fathoms of water on a stony bottom where the finest of anchors regrets even trying. Once hooked, Jupiters heavy chain clatters along the bottom like the sound of the men working on the chain gang, singing and clanking through the short-sighted night.

Jupiter normally holds her bow to the wind, but here she tacks and swims, boxing the compass in mysterious currents unrelated to tides or any recognized phenomena. Unanchoring requires finesse to remove more than a shot and a half of chain from whatever craggy hell lies below.

The Sirens

Kayakers find a dreamscape of tidelands, ledges, swimming holes and reefs. The water is clear, nipping, and stained by forest tannins. The elevated watershed of Pitt Island provides enough fresh water entering the sea to create a halocline. Fresh floats on salt, mixing reluctantly when compelled by turbulence from rapids and all their manifestations. Brackish water represents the victory of gravity and geology over density.

Many birds are catalogued including a rare osprey wheeling overhead. Various murrelets, gulls, kittiwakes and surf scoters savour the surface.

Crabbing proves surprisingly easy and three species fail to escape clumsy attempts at capture. One evening a wolf and her pups appear briefly ashore and then disappear howling into the twilight.

A double descent of the crab pot returns dungeness, red-rock and pacific crabs, each with distinctive couture and flavor profiles. Females are returned to the deep while males are stunned, rent, rinsed, and rolling-boiled. Ribbon kelp is foraged from kayaks in the lagoon’s outflow.

Lunch is pick-your-own, swabbed with butter and lemon. The remainder, clawed from the shell, swims amongst shredded kelp in a rice-wine, soy and sesame bath of chef’s devising.

Redemption

Locations like Tuwartz are neither rare nor obscure in the Pacific Northwest, and ancient peoples knew them well, found them useful, and perhaps inspirational. For Jupiter and her crew discovering and accessing remote and curious locations offers excitement and delight in large measures.