Mini-marsh

On our way down the Sunshine Coast, we took a break at Pender Harbour. The last time we were there, we had only stopped long enough to check with the information booth about nearby lodging. This time we dawdled through town, exploring, until we saw a used bookstore. We can never resist one of those!

We would be browsing for a good while*, so I looked for a parking spot in heavy shade, and found it, right beside the entrance to a wetlands trail; something unexpected where the hills rush down to the sea. It was a small marshy area, half dry after a hot summer, with a board walk through the cattails. A pair of herons took off at our approach and went grumbling into the shadows at the far end; crows squabbled overhead in a tall arbutus.

And over the water, between the cattails, red and blue dragonflies zipped back and forth in the sunshine, pausing only briefly to rest on cattail leaves.

Male Western pondhawk, maybe.

Cardinal meadowhawk.

*We shopped for a good hour, and bought a bagful of books. Out-of-the-way bookstores often turn out to contain hidden treasure. This one certainly did. We'll be back! Besides, looking at the map later, I realize that we missed most of the sights of the area. There's a long, heavily indented coast bristling with boat ramps, islands and bays and marinas, a tiny lake, parks and campsites. Next time, we'll plan on spending the day.

Unforgettable Jervis Inlet

Thank you, all, for your good thoughts for my grandson. The surgery was postponed for a day, but it is finally done, the surgeon says it went fine, and my grandson is resting peacefully. Now, I think, I can get back to normal life. (So will he, but it will take some time.)

So: back to the vacation series (alternating with current wanderings and visitors). These are from Saltery Bay, on the Sunshine Coast.

We arrived too early in the morning for the ferry, and went instead to Saltery Bay Provincial Park, a couple of kilometres back up the highway. Although it was past 9 AM, the water still had that hard-to-describe, but unforgettable, morning clarity, transparent at our feet, cool blue farther out. A light mist softened the distant hills. It was so quiet that tiny sounds stood out individually; a wavelet on the rocks, voices across the water, the whisper of a breeze in the evergreens.

The boat launch, blue water, and Laurie.

Swim gear drying on the edge of the boat launch.

The road down from the highway ends at Jervis Inlet, where there is a day-use picnic area. Campsites are in the next bay, closer to the ferry landing.

At anchor in the bay.

Mist and people standing in tiny boats.

Out fishing.

A dollar a head

Looking at the map of the Sunshine Coast shoreline, I would be hard put to find Smuggler's Cove. Not that it's all that hidden, but there are just so many deep cuts into the outline, places where long ages ago, rivers cut through the rock on their way to the mother ocean. But one of these inlets has earned the right to the name. SunshineCoastCanada tells the story:

This small, picturesque all-weather anchorage near Secret Cove has authentic pirate history. Following the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway, William Kelly smuggled illegal Chinese immigrants from Vancouver into the US by sea for $1 each. He evaded arrest by hiding in Smuggler Cove. During Prohibition in the 1920s, the Cove was used to store bootleg liquor en route from stills on Texada Island to rum-running boats heading to the US.

Nowadays, it's a hide-away for vacationers, a good place for a summer cabin. It is still difficult to find; a small green sign on the highway points off to a road down the hill, which meanders about, crossing other winding roads, going down and down for 5 km. to the coast and a parking lot. A gap at one end of the lot leads to the beachhead.

A very private landing place.

Deep greens and blues.

There are about a dozen cabins in the woods and on the rocks around the cove.

Grasses on the rocks, and a view into Halfmoon Bay

The beach, what there is of it, is rocky, fringed by cast-up logs and broken driftwood. The water is crystal clear; standing on a rock above it, we could see a little seaweed at the bottom, rocks covered with barnacles and dark spots. We scrambled down to get a closer look, and realized that all those dark spots were small crabs. Tame crabs, or maybe just crabs unused to people; instead of hiding underneath the rocks, as they do around the Lower Mainland, they were nonchalantly sunning themselves under a few inches of water. Even our shadows, as we leaned over them, didn't disturb them. I poked at a few with a stick. They ambled away, not in any hurry.

Sample rock, with purple shore crabs. (Some purple shore crabs are green, and there are two white ones with purple legs in the photo.)

I turned over a few rocks on the shore. There were no crabs underneath.

Going offline

We're off!

Kid and toy, Stonewater Motel, Sunshine Coast, 2009

We probably won't have internet access until tomorrow night or Saturday. See you then!

Thunder River viewpoint

On the Sunshine Coast.

We'll see it tomorrow. Rain or shine.

Tomorrow's route in yellow. Two ferry crossings. The next day, in red: one ferry crossing.

And no, I'm not packed yet. That's today's job. That, and delivering my aquarium full of hermits and their friends to be babysat (babysitted? crabsat? critter-sat?).

Anticipation

Two more days, and we'll be on our way north.

View, muted and cooled through a ferry window. Near Horseshoe Bay. 2009.

Sailboat, off Earl's Cove.

Arriving in Powell River.

I can hardly wait.

Lion's Mane Jellyfish

In a quiet corner of the marina at Powell River, we found this Lion's Mane jellyfish.

We see these often on the beaches from Campbell River to White Rock; usually by the time we get to them, they're little more than a mass of red goop, about the size of a flat soup bowl. This one was probably dead, too. It wasn't moving, except as the gentle current moved the tangle of seaweed beside it.


I think it is floating upside-down. The bits of torn rope in the centre are probably all that remains of the mane; possibly those delicate white threads around it are some of the fine tentacles. I didn't dare try to fish it out; dead or alive, these critters sting.

"The stinging cells ( nematocysts ) in the tentacles can actually live for months after they are detached from the Jellyfish." (Emerald Sea Photography)

The Lion's Mane is a cold-water jellyfish; it is "seldom found farther south than 42°N latitude," more or less on the Oregon/California border. (Wikipedia) The colder the water, the larger they grow. They live for one year; towards the end of the summer, they gravitate towards the shore, where we find them cast up, melting.

Emerald Sea Photography has beautiful photos of the live jellyfish.

North Island Explorer has a photo showing those translucent lobes curled up around the rim of the red centre at the top.

And here's one with the white bell stretched out, swimming. This one, found south of Seattle, was 14 inches across, a bit bigger than "ours". The tentacles reached 8 feet down.

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Heat wave, remembered

Such a short time ago ... It's raining now, has been at it all day. I'm wearing a sweater and have the heater on. But in that last week of July, every day was hotter than the one before. In Powell River, waiting for the ferry, I was dizzy and headachy from the heat; we were drinking salt water and draping damp cloths over the car windows.

We had over an hour to wait, lined up alongside monstrous trucks with heat waves floating above their engines. Ahead, though, beside the loading dock, was a wharf with boats and blue water. It looked cool, so we abandoned our makeshift shade and walked down the pier.

Shimmering waves.

It was cooler down there. Marginally. But the sun was glaring off the white boats and bouncing off the water. Our eyes rejected the light; so did the cameras. At least, we could wear sunglasses. And squint.

White-out.

Tank on the shore. One of a pair.

Red and black boat, detail.

Red is not the most comforting colour on a hot day.

Reflections work better; the light dims.

Light patterns reflected from the water to the hull of a boat. With rope.

The gas station, detail. Too hot at the moment for music.

Laurie challenged me to read this sign, using only the reflections.

Can you?

(Hint: look at the previous photo. No, the original is not there. It's overhead.)

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Grief Point

Street sign, Powell River:

The Sunshine Coast maps hint at a thousand stories, many long forgotten. Mermaid Cove, Thunder Bay, Frolander Bay, Brew Bay, Black Point, Desolation Sound, Bargain Harbour, Smuggler's Cove, Dinner Rock, Mount Spooner, Pope Landing, Hole in the Wall ... Grief Point, at the south end of Powell River, was the fall and winter settlement of the Sliammon people before the Europeans arrived.

High-ranking families would keep houses at both locations. The Sliammon people traveled by water, searching out the best places to fish, hunt, pick berries or dig roots. Some of the locations were simply over-night campsites while others became seasonal villages with spacious houses constructed from the giant red cedars that were abundant along the shores. Evidence of these sites is easy to locate by the presence of shell middens (Layers of shells and earth accumulated along the shoreline from thousand of years of discarded seashells). (Discover Powell River)

Where the present name came from is anyone's guess.

This name appears on 1880's Admiralty Charts, but the origin is unknown. Perhaps a smallpox epidemic ... or a ship wreck are possibilities. (Powell River Museum)

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Wallpapered rock

On the Powell River peninsula, we stopped at a viewpoint over Thunder Bay.

A peaceful scene; water and hills and sky.

The tidal currents make patterns in the water.

Ahhhh! Breathe deep, smell the evergreens, the salt water. Listen to the silence. Feel ten years younger ...

Turning back to the car, refreshed, we noticed the rock face on the opposite side of the highway. It was covered with round "flower" patterns, like a pale version of 1970s wallpaper.

Circles of crustose lichen.

Each one was different; some were grey, others pale orangey brown; some had brown fruiting bodies (apothecia), some sported pale little cups. Click on the photos to see the structures and colours in better detail.

These were also at the viewpoint, and insist on being included here:

Fern and foxglove.

Pearly everlasting. One of my favourite flowers.

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A place of its own

Valiant young sapling, homesteading on a broken rock face.

Thunder Bay, Sunshine Coast.

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We hurried; now we wait.

Sunshine Coast, Day two, Leg one: Earl's Cove ferry landing.

The Lower Sunshine Coast is connected to the mainland by two ferries, at the north and south ends. We pay to get there, about $35 for the car, but leaving is free. (If people had to pay to leave, maybe they'd just stay put, move in and put down roots.)

Our route to Vancouver Island included three ferry trips: from Horseshoe Bay to the Lower Sunshine Coast, at Langdale, off again at Earl's Cove, connecting to Saltery Bay on the Powell River peninsula, and then from the town of Powell River to Comox on Vancouver Island. We spent a lot of time at ferry landings.

We took the second sailing at Earl's Cove, getting to the landing at 9:30 AM, and loading at 10:30. An hour to kill, but the morning was cool and there was plenty to see.

Morning shadows, on the way to the ferry.

Earl's Cove.

Waiting for the ferry.

Squiggles on the water.

Unidentified weed.

Hawkweed.

A flowery bush.

Barnacles and reflections.

A handy map.

With mermaid and octopus.

Good to know.

And a saucy robin.

Finally, here she comes!

Our ferry here was the Island Sky, a smallish boat, carrying only 125 cars. (BC Ferries fleet, for comparison.) The trip takes just under an hour.

Next: water, rocks, and lichen.

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