We woke to a peaceful morning, with blue skies already visible through waffled clouds. Not sure if the weather system has simply changed, but I think more likely we have returned to the climate of southern British Columbia. We felt a change at about this same latitude on our trip up to the Broughtons – mornings became chilly, and we had to wait until noon for the clouds to burn off when we were “up north”. We definitely welcome the return of the sun. And the horseflies have turned back into mosquitos, too. Still undecided as to whether they are welcome or not.
We hit a bit of a snag when we tried to get going nice and early to take advantage of the current and tide for our second leg of the Johnstone Strait. Although Cap’n Adam had made a mental note of the GPS coordinates when we dropped the prawn trap, it was not where we had left it. Perhaps the current had dragged it, perhaps it got pulled out with the tide. We spent about an hour searching and cursing, hampered by the sun which was low in the sky creating a blinding (but lovely) reflection off of the water. We really did not want to abandon it since they are not cheap, and we had just bought it before we left. As we were beginning to discuss moving on, Cap’n Eagle Eye spied the small yellow float about 200 yards off of our bow. Thrilled, we raced toward it before we lost it again, and didn’t even care that there were no prawns in it when we hauled it back up.
With the wind at our backs we hoisted the geniker again, and travelled all the way to the end of the Johnstone Strait, where it turns into Discovery Passage. From there we headed east between East and West Thurlow Islands, and found a spot to drop the anchor just outside of Blind Channel Resort. Although this is a nice resort with a well stocked store and a fancy looking restaurant, there were plenty of pre-teens on loud sugar highs running around, which culture-shocked the heck out of us. So, back into the dingy and back to the catamaran to enjoy the last rays of the sun in peace.
As the sun dipped behind the mountains, we briefly witnessed one of the most special things I’ve ever seen out here on the coast. A momma harbour seal, so small she barely looked full-grown herself, hopped her way out of the water and onto a rock a few hundred feet from us. And then behind her, a tiny baby seal also flopped just far enough out of the water to reach her, and began nursing. It felt like the whole world just stopped, and we were privy to one of the most intimate moments I’ve ever seen. After a bit of time I snapped one picture, barely having time to focus, but my movement must have scared momma because she slid back into the water. I included that picture in this blog (the last pic), although it is not very clear, the light was not great, and I had to crop the picture, you can kind of make it out. But it doesn’t do the moment justice, which I felt more in my heart than I saw with my eyes. You’re right, Shannon, I need a better camera with a much better lens. :)
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