Pruth Bay to Blunden Harbour

Our plan had been straightforward: run to Millbrook Cove, tuck in for the night, and cross Cape Caution tomorrow under “better” weather. But as so often happens, the ocean had other ideas.

Approaching Millbrook, Egg Island was reporting 25 knots and 5-foot moderate seas—hardly encouraging. Yet looking out the pilothouse windows, what we saw told a different story. Conditions were far gentler: winds mostly under 10 knots, long-period swells of just 2–3 feet. With the sea serving up a gift, we adjusted on the fly—why wait? We turned OceanFlyer toward Cape Caution.

The rounding was as kind as we’ve ever seen. Once around the Cape, the swell and wind swung onto our stern, producing a little yaw and wallow as we surfed down the rollers, but OceanFlyer handled it with her usual steadiness. Enjoying the push, we passed by Miles Inlet and carried on to Blunden Harbour, setting ourselves up for a shorter run tomorrow into the Broughtons where we’ll rendezvous with friends.

Out there it felt like we had the world to ourselves. We saw more whales than boats, a sure sign we were between “waves” of southbound cruisers—yesterday’s pack already gone, tomorrow’s yet to come. OceanFlyer, as always, keeps her own rhythm.

Blunden Harbour was empty on arrival, but true to form it offered its usual quirk: stronger winds inside than out. Whitecaps greeted us in this so-called “shelter,” blowing 20 knots inside while it was calmer in Queen Charlotte Strait. By dinnertime, though, the breeze eased to a manageable 10 knots.

We marked the safe rounding of Cape Caution in fitting style: pizza and beer aboard, with a small toast to Neptune. Another milestone passage behind us, and another peaceful night ahead.

Pruth Bay Lay Day

We woke to a very different scene this morning—yesterday’s sun traded for a blanket of fog. Still, that didn’t stop us from heading back to West Beach at low tide, our favorite time to explore. With the water pulled back, the beach stretched wide and we were able to slip past the rocks on the south end to poke around tidepools, crevices, and hidden corners normally underwater.

The fog shrouded the view seaward, giving everything a hushed, almost otherworldly feel. Mussels clung in clusters, sea stars sprawled across rocks, and a host of unnamable critters and plants made the shoreline its own aquarium.

Back aboard OceanFlyer, the rest of the day was practical—boat projects, cleaning, a bit of paying work, and time spent catching up on this very blog. The forecast is still our main focus as we plan our southbound jump across Cape Caution. Tomorrow we’ll move to Millbrook Cove in Smith Inlet to set up for an early departure and Thursday’s crossing.

Kisameet Bay to Pruth Bay

After a pleasant night alone in Kisameet Bay, we headed south to one of our favorite stops, Pruth Bay, home of the Hakai Institute. We stopped here on our way north earlier this year, and as we play the weather forecasts for our upcoming rounding of Cape Caution, spending two days in Pruth seems like a great plan.

The wind and current were at our stern and made for a pleasant and speedy ride to Pruth. The morning fog and clouds were quickly displaced by the approaching high pressure giving us a clear sky for the rest of the day, with associated increases in wind.

We were the fourth boat to drop anchor in Pruth, we knew more would join us before the day was done. We were as far forward toward the Hakai Institute as we could get and were well protected.

After setting the anchor and having some lunch, it was time for our customary walk to West Beach. It  was a delight. Although west sun was full on, the sea breeze kept temperatures pleasant. A few people were frolicking in the chilly ocean, a sure sign of summer in Canada. We chose to simply walk the beach, fly the drone and search for treasures along the tide line. Truly lovely.

Upon our return to OceanFlyer were greeted with another 5 boats in the anchorage – including a few that were closer than we’d like – and more on the way. Not unexpected, but such a change from our usual solitude. It is the start of the transition to more crowds that will continue to build as we make our way south.

The calm evening was graced with a subtle sunset of oranges, blues and pinks. Weather is forecast to change, so we will see what tomorrow brings.

Baker Inlet to Lowe Inlet

We slipped out of Baker Inlet at high slack, the extra water and a bit of local knowledge making the exit feel almost routine. No boats were waiting to enter, and we felt a pang of reluctance leaving behind such a quiet, beautiful spot.

Back in Grenville Channel, we fell in line with four other southbound boats, including a tug and tow. Under gray skies the miles slid by easily, three hours of smooth running in The Ditch.

Lowe Inlet was already holding two boats when OceanFlyer arrived, and by evening four more joined us—clearly we’d found a southbound wave of cruisers. Salmon leapt around Verney Falls in their determined way, but no bears appeared to claim them.

our neighbors at lowe inlet

the falls at lowe inlet

Dinner was shrimp stir fry, a regular favorite on board, but this time with a welcome twist: our own fresh-caught prawns instead of Trader Joe’s frozen bag. Hard to beat that upgrade.

The skies began to lighten toward evening, but tomorrow’s forecast promises rain and fog all day. No matter—tonight, Lowe Inlet gave us another calm anchorage and the satisfaction of cruising in good company.

Baker Inlet Lay Day

Baker Inlet served up another quiet night, and we woke to low clouds and drizzle—classic North Coast weather. Undeterred, we headed out to check the prawn pot. Jackpot! The first haul brought up 27 jumbo spot prawns. With a quick reset, four hours later we pulled another 72—smaller, but still plenty. A tip from friends had us try a second location, so we set the pot again and let it soak while we tackled boat chores and updated the blog.

The afternoon reward? Another 25 prawns—enough to hit our daily limit. With dinner plans already decided (butter, garlic, prawns!), we dropped the pot one last time for an overnight soak. Tomorrow morning’s slack tide exit would give us time for a final pull.

We scanned the shoreline for bears but struck out again. Not another boat in sight either—Baker gifted us a second night of complete solitude. Rain or not, it was glorious.

when all you got is clouds, trees and water, you photgraph clouds, trees and water