Seymour Inlet Portage - 1985

Posted with permission - This was originally posted at WashburneMarine.com by Randy Washburne - I have reformatted Randy's original post to work with my blog format.  In so doing I have attempted to retain all of the original look and feel including punctuation. 

Randel Washburne

Copyright 2007

Seymour Inlet Portage

Looking at a map, inland from the blunt wedge of Cape Caution is a maze of waterways that incise for almost fifty miles into the Coast Range, and all connected to the sea through quarter-mile wide Nakwakto Rapids. There are a hundred miles of channels in here, some as much as a mile wide, others much narrower, and running straight for ten or more miles. Connected are as many more miles of brackish lagoons, where streams dilute the small amount of salt that the flood tide brings to them. To the north are still more waterways accessed from Smith Sound, and almost but not quite connecting to the central bodies. To the south a similar one comes in from Drury and other inlets.

Its appearance suggests that its flat, with only slight variations in elevation defining the edges between land and water. If you’re a canoeist from the Midwest, you’d be reminded of the Boundary Waters area on the Minnesota-Saskatchewan border, where chains of lakes are separated by gentle hills allowing easy portages. It’s not like that.

The first time I ventured inland through Nakwakto Rapids, I saw that steep mountainsides rose to a thousand feet or more directly from the inland seas. No easy portages would be found here. Nevertheless, I was intrigued with the idea of seeing this country without back-tracking by finding a way across from the inlets to the south, mostly by paddle, and with as little as possible overland by some means.

I asked around on north Vancouver Island, and learned that the inland area had been extensively logged, and that most of the logs went out from the central waterways to either Smith Sound or the southern inlets, trucked over on local logging roads that connected them. Few went out through Nakwakto, though log rafts were pulled through there on the short slacks, mostly the produce of hand-loggers. So there had to be roads going where I wanted to, and perhaps I could use them to carry my carted boat and gear across, or cadge a ride with a logging vehicle. But I really didn’t know, and decide that when a chance came to try it, I’d go on speculation and accept the uncertainty.

The opportunity came when I was building the Burnett Bay cabin south of Cape Caution. Linda got a lift across Queen Charlotte Strait from Port Hardy to the bay. After staying there for a week, we’d paddle back to Port Hardy, drive south to Telegraph Cove in her car, and I’d find my way back to Burnett Bay via some inland route, exiting at Nakwakto. I had no inkling of the scale of what I was undertaking.

The territory through the Broughton Archipelago was familiar until I passed Echo Bay and entered the labyrinth of passages leading north along the widening Queen Charlotte Strait. I spent one night at what I believe was a Kayak Bill camp. I came ashore in a small cove backed by an old midden – mossy grass overhung by cedars. One of these had fallen to a low angle across the grassy area. Clear plastic sheeting had been laid over it and secured with rocks and driftwood into a tent. At the high end a rock fireplace had been built with a driftwood chimney to carry the smoke away. Inside was a sleeping area cushioned with dried ferns, next to a kneeling height table built from the remains of a wooden pallet. A few things were stored in it, including .22 bullets. I’d heard that Bill lived on deer and seals.

I spent a very comfortable night there. I was determined to leave no evidence of my visit – with one exception. The partly dis-constructed pallet had some small nails protruding in toward the center. They weren’t really in the way or a hazard to using the table, but they seemed offensive to me in a way that they apparently were not to Bill. I got out my small vice grips and pulled them all out and laid them in a neat row at the edge of the table. My calling card. I never met Bill, so I have no idea about what he would have thought upon kneeling at his little table.

I moved on to Sullivan Bay. This small harbor, with a resort café and store along its boardwalk, had several yachts anchored. They wait here for the window of opportunity to cross the dreaded Queen Charlotte Sound, for them twenty or more miles of open coast with no refuge before Smith Sound. (Not so for kayaks, which find good landings and camping every few miles.) This would be my last chance to acquire anything before returning to Port Hardy, so I bought a six-pack of beer.

Continuing north, I entered the unknown. My intended route was into Drury Inlet, where successive narrows lead to possible overland connections. I had some hearsay evidence that there might be a road from its upper reaches into Seymour Inlet. Or, failing that, there was Lee Lake, which almost spanned the distance to a lagoon connecting to the inlet. Failing these, I’d just have to paddle back out, and continue up Queen Charlotte Strait. Knowing my inclinations, that option was unlikely.

In early evening I entered Drury Inlet and started looking for a campsite, which were typically sparse for this country. In Jennis Bay I saw a floating logging camp where I though I might glean some information about my intended route and possible campsites. I headed for one float where convivial laughter emanated from what appeared to be the mess hall. A friendly fellow came out to greet me as I tied up and invited me in.

Six men were sitting inside, relaxing with what was apparently not the first of several post-work beers. “Hi, I’m Randy,” I said. One of the celebrants replied, “I’ll be you are, sitting in a kayak all day!” That brought guffaws from two companions and embarrassed grins from others who had perhaps come more recently to the assault on the beer supply. No ill will was intended, and after recovering, I took no offense. After all, this was Canada where, like Britain and Australia, my name is an adjective. In fact, that particular individual was the most helpful and supportive of what I was trying to do.

Yes, there was a road to Seymour Inlet at the head of Actaeon Sound. But, it was twenty miles long, went over a low pass, and was washed out in two places. That dashed any hope of catching a ride on a logging truck. Towing my boat on its cart for twenty miles of rough road would be a competition between whether the cart, the boat, or myself would become damaged to the point of unserviceability, and might take days or even a week!

So what about Lee Lake? They agreed amongst themselves that they’d heard there was an old road up to the lake, and that it would be much shorter, but had no idea how hard it would be to get from the lake down to the lagoon. There was a hand-logger based in Creasy Bay where the road started, and perhaps he might know more.

Thanking them for this invaluable local knowledge, I asked if they knew of a campsite anywhere nearby. One of the people was a quiet bearded man who turned out to be the camp caretaker. He had a whole house on a neighboring log float, and invited me to stay there. Grateful that I would be relieved of the chore of carrying the boat and all the gear above the tide line and setting up my tent, I paddled around to his dock. All I had to do was tie up and bring a few things inside.

Yet I was sorry I did. This turned out to be the most slothful individual I’ve ever met. For some reason there was no water supply hooked up to the house. The kitchen was piled high with dirty dishes, opened cans, and half-eaten food. Since the toilet (which vented directly to the salt chuck below) had to be flushed by bucket, he only flushed once every few days. In light of these amenities, I decided to pitch my tent outside on the dock, claiming (not untruthfully) that I slept much better in open air. I did manage to clear a small corner of his table to cook my dinner. I offered him one of my beers, but a bit uncomfortably he said he didn’t drink. I was unable to find out much about this man, and truthfully didn’t want to.

In the morning I made as early a departure as gracefully possible and continued into the inlet, and into the narrow winding stricture of Actress Pass (Snake Pass to the loggers). The current picked up to a knot or so, making me wonder about how many logs they were able to haul out via this route from Actaeon Sound. 

By early afternoon, I came to Creasy Bay where I’d been told to look for the way to Lee Lake. An old ferry-like hulk was tied up there, and a floatplane was letting off a passenger just as I arrived. It was good timing – he was the hand-logger, Gil, just returning from shopping in Port McNeal, and had been away for a week.

He invited me in for a cup of coffee. His vessel was actually an old ferry (Stuart Island, I think), which had also been used in the sealing trade in Alaska. In the kitchen (not “galley” since inside this was more house than boat), he found no water in the tap, so I volunteered to do my duty of following the plastic hose up the hill to put the upper end back under the rock in little pool in a stream while Gil unpacked.

Gil told me that there really was a road up to the lake, and that he would even drive me up there! Our transport was a decrepit VW bus, who’s license tags had last been renewed eight years before. That was the last year it had experienced third or fourth gear either, he said. The lower two and reverse where more than enough out here. Most of the windows and the back door had been removed. My boat went into the back door opening and forward so that the bow lay on the floor between the front seats.

The old bus was likely the only vehicle to travel this old road to Lee Lake in recent years. It was covered with leaves and small logs that we bounced right over. It climbed steadily for the three miles it took to get there. Not a good sign – I was in for a wild ride back to sea level, however that would happen. We arrived at the south shore, and I saw that Lee Lake was not a pristine jewel. The area had been clearcut about fifteen years before, and recovery had been slow and uneven. Discarded logs lay everywhere and floating ones crowded the shorelines. One of Gil’s reasons for coming up was to bring down some pieces for firewood. I helped him load up, we shook hands, and suddenly I was alone in the middle of no where.

I paddled to the north end of the lake, camped, and climbed a small hill after dinner where I could look out to the north. The lagoons wound invitingly into the distance through foothills and minor peaks, toward Seymour Inlet beyond. A pretty sight, but from an elevated perspective that is alarming if you plan to get there in a boat.

Thankfully, the next day was clear and warm. I paddled south along the western shore to find the outlet. A shallow log-choked waterway would through the trees, and I started in, climbing out to slide the kayak over a log or two, and then back in to paddle a hundred feet or so before the next barrier. The logs became thicker, and the water narrowed into a stream that was now flowing steadily. But ahead it dropped away, leaving a clear view of the distant hills beyond my destination, Nanahlmai Lagoon.

My waterborne progress was clearly done. I would need to find a way to portage. Walking ahead, I found the stream dropped into a rock-walled canyon. Beyond, about a half mile distant and several hundred feet below, sun light sparkled on the surface of the lagoon. I knew I would not be paddling on it today, and probably not tomorrow either.

The Portage Route. The steepness of the canyon walls is not represented.

This would take two stages. The first would be to haul my gear, paddles, and anything else I could remove from the kayak down to the lagoon and set up camp. The second would be the boat itself, which due to the sheer-sided canyon and numerous fallen trees in it would be the most daunting challenge.

I had a large back-pack dry bag, which I would stuff with as much as I could, leaving my arms free, as I’d surely need them. Down I went along side the plunging stream. At one point there were sheer walls on both sides of the rushing water. I found some footholds for a way, then had to step into the stream, well over the tops of my rubber boots, and continue edging along. At one point I lost my footing and went in chest-deep with still no bottom, stopped only by grabbing the rock from being driven deeper by my heavy pack (which I had thankfully closed tightly). This was the only route – I’d just have to be careful here on the next trips, and there would be many.

Then the canyon opened up a little and I was able to climb further down. But I could see that I needed to get to the other side, so I used a jack-strawed pile of downed trees to cross about thirty feet above the water, not really so bad, since I figured I could grab other logs if I fell off, or hoped so.

The last part was easy – just finding a way through the brush and into the forest by the lagoon. It led me directly to a good campsite and launch point. Old cable and bottles indicated this had been used by the loggers decades before. It was also popular with bears – the trees were heavily clawed and scat was abundant. I unloaded and went back. Any time I was in this lower part of the route I kept up a constant loud serenade for the bears and my own confidence. “Hey bears! Comin’ through!” A few marching songs from my old army days also filled the bill, and I think I invented some specialized verses for bears that I’ve unfortunately forgotten. It worked, and none appeared.

It took five trips to bring everything down to the lagoon. I kept going without breaks and didn’t finish until 9:30 pm. There were no mishaps, and I figured out how to edge along the rock face without going under water. I was very tired. After a high-carbohydrate dinner, I crawled into my tent. I didn’t sleep well, partly due to my location in a bear congregation area. Mostly, I was worried about tomorrow, whether I could finish this, and really had no idea about how I could get the boat down here without damaging it or myself. If I couldn’t, I’d have an even harder job dragging everything back to the lake and then a walk out to beg another ride from Gil, if he was even there. And, if I should get hurt, it would be way too late by the time anyone figured out I needed a rescue or even where to look. I was truly on my own.

In the morning, thankfully another sunny one, I packed several lengths of rope, my folding pruning saw, water, and lunch, and a small tarp for emergency shelter into my back pack dry bag. Up with the kayak again, I removed the rudder and duct taped around the exposed cables to protect them from snagging on brush.

The way down the canyon was clearly impossible. I’d never be able to carry or push the boat down the rocky falls without damage, and getting it across the high jumble of logs was too daunting. So it would have to be up the steep side to the flatter hillsides another hundred feet above, and trust that there would be a way down through the old clearcuts from up there. This incline was too vertical to walk up, but there were trees and rocks here and there to grab. But how would I do that and carry the boat?

The solution was to climb up to the limit of my longest rope (about fifty feet), tie it off to a tree, and then attach the boat’s bow line to it with a prussic knot, a sliding hitch used by climbers to ascend ropes. Then I climbed up to a point where I could hang on with an arm looped around a tree, pull the boat up by the bow line, and slide the hitch up the fixed rope as far as I could. Then climb up some more and repeat. By midway, each anchor point might only net a foot or two of progress for the kayak. The young cedars now became so thick that several times I had to use the pruning saw to cut a few to make a space wide enough for the hull to pass through. The top was steepest, semi-cliffs that required re-positioning the rope and careful work to hoist the boat without falling. I was now well above the level of Lee Lake.

It seemed an impossible job, and I really wasn’t sure I’d make it. It was the greatest challenge of will and perseverance I’d ever faced. I encouraged and cajoled myself. Don’t stop, it won’t get done standing still. Just think about the short-term and what’s to be done next. Think about Tristan Jones pulling his sailboat through sixteen miles of the Mata Groso swamp.

After three hours, I came out onto a more open hillside at the lip of the canyon. I sat on a stump with a sweeping view, at lunch, and felt encouraged that the worst was over. In fact, it was. I was now able to slide my boat down the gentle slope with only occasional need to saw out obstructions. Then the hillside dropped more steeply, so I tied the rope to the stern, aimed the bow downhill, and gave it a push. It slithered down and out of sight into the dog-haired little trees, its progress continuing and controlled by the paid-out rope. At rope’s end, I stopped it, followed it down, re-aimed, and pushed off again. It was so easy I had a chuckle watching it disappear into the brush, while just trusting that it wasn’t about to drop over an invisible cliff. But there were none, and the boat and I emerged into the older forest below. Now shouting a triumphant greeting to the bears, I towed it through the ferns and salal and over old mossy logs to my camp, arriving about 4:30. I rested easy that evening – the remainder of this would just be fun.

At the water’s edge, I could see that the tidal range of Nanahlmai Lagoon was only a foot or so. So little sea water passed through the successive narrows from the ocean that its flow had negligible effect on the lagoon’s level. The first such constriction was at Nakwakto Rapids, which reduced the eighteen foot range on the Pacific

to about six feet on Seymour Inlet. Because of that, these inland waterways kept a level somewhere between the extremes of the larger outside waterway, and the slacks in the connecting narrows occur somewhere around mid-tide when the levels equalize. It is an excellent example of how tide tables are a poor predictor or currents.

There would be a high tide on the Pacific mid-morning, so I hoped to pick up and ebb current on the way out and try to make it through Nakwakto before the next rising tide brought the flood current.

It was truly a joy to be afloat again and sliding along so easily, covering in the first fifteen minutes the distance of the last two days’ hard work. The weather was overcast but windless and peaceful.

I came to the first narrows and picked up a gentle current. A floathouse on a log raft was teathered with cables along the shore here. It was the mobile home of hand-loggers, and I saw them working on shore a mile or so beyond. The waterway opened up as I came out into Seymour Inlet, which lead eastinto the coast range as far as I could see. I turned west, continuing on for several hours. There was more evidence of logging now.

At the junction with Nugent Sound I stopped at Holmes Point to see the old native village site. There was beautiful lush forest and an open bramble-meadow that apparently covered the remains of long-house pits.

Now came Nakwakto. A logger’s skiff passed me and sped out through the ebbing narrows. If he could do it, so could I, since it wasn’t a particularly big exchange. I stayed to the south side of Turret Rock, rode down the fast sluice to the standing waves where the water slowed after the rapids – a little splashing but no trouble. The current was still going my way, so I pushed on into Slingsby Channel.

A mile farther on a hand-logger’s skiff was tied to shore and a chainsaw was running up the hill, though I couldn’t see the operator through the trees. So I waited to see what would happen. Soon, a big cedar slowly tipped out from the forest and plunged down the hillside into the water. The still-unseen logger shut off the saw, and in the silence, I clapped. Then I moved on, leaving him to wonder about the mysterious applause.

There was one last ride through the last of the ebb current at Slingsby Narrows, and I turned north along the Pacific shore toward Burnett Bay, thinking that I had no regrets about this adventure. It was out of my system now - I’d seen that country, knew that there was no kayaker’s Northwest Passage back there. It could be done, but I wouldn’t again, nor recommend it to anyone else.

South Queen Charlotte Islands - 1974

Posted with permission - This was originally posted at WashburneMarine.com by Randy Washburne - I have reformatted Randy's original post to work with my blog format.  In so doing I have attempted to retain all of the original look and feel including punctuation. 

Randel Washburne

Copyright 2007

South Queen Charlotte Islands

We were in Seattle this morning. At late afternoon Tom and I stand on a rocky beach on South Moresby Island, near where the tip of the Queen Charlotte Islands archipelago dead-ends into the empty Pacific. The sound of our last link to civilization echoes and then fades over the mountain pass to the north, leaving the lap of waves on our gravel beach and the freshening breeze sighing through the trees. Clouds scud just overhead, suggesting that today’s showers would soon resume.

Welcome to the Queen Charlotte Islands of 1974, before the national park and before “Haida Gwaii” and “Gwaii Haanas” had meaning to anyone but speakers of the Haida language. In those days the Haida people seemed inclined to ignore their long-abandoned ancestral villages on the remote south islands along with the memories of decline and smallpox decimation, and showed little interest in protecting their spectacular carved cedar monuments there. For a century these totems and house posts had remained there alone to decay naturally, and hardly anyone went there to disturb them.

Though it seemed to us the edge of the known world on arriving, getting to the south Charlottes was easy if you had a folding kayak  – simply book a couple of seats on the daily jet from Vancouver and charter a floatplane to take you the remaining fifty miles to the southern end of the archipelago. There wasn’t even an airline baggage charge for our large pile of boat parts and camping gear.

By 1 pm we unloaded into drizzle at Sandspit airport in the central Charlottes. This had been constructed as a major military base during the war, and its acres of concrete were now lightly used. In the little terminal we were told that our Beaver floatplane was standing by, but that our flight was on hold due to low visibility. There was nothing to do but wait.

So we walked, passing the home of Neil and Betty Carey just outside the airport entrance. Their recent article in Alaska Magazine was why we were here. These expatriate Americans were the chroniclers of the south Charlottes, having explored extensively in small boats. My last summer’s adventure kayaking West Chichigoff Island in Alaska had hooked me on more of the same, and Neil Carey’s pictures and descriptions of the lush forests and abandoned Haida villages in the south Charlottes were all that Tom, another graduate student, and I needed to decide to go there.

We collected nautical charts and researched the history of the remote Haida villages, including a visit to Bill Holm, the foremost authority on Haida art history at the university’s Burke Museum. He had actually been there. He led me to an article on the village of Ninstints, part of which is quoted later. We also wrote to the Careys for any advice they could offer. We received no reply – perhaps one of many inquiries from people longer on ambition than execution.

Returning to the terminal, the charter people, perhaps tiring of our pile of duffel in front of their desk, announced that conditions were now marginally suitable to fly. A forklift was summoned, our gear was loaded onto a pallet, and we followed it out to our aircraft. The Beaver is a fair sized aircraft, capable of taking much more than the two of us and our equipment. Standing on its pontoons and below that, the retractable landing gear, the Beaver’s flight deck was nearly eight feet up, hence the advantage of the forklift.

Loaded up, we were ready. Tom climbed into the right seat, and I went into the back with our bags. The engine started up and without delay, we taxied away. We rolled across concrete aprons and taxiways toward a huge ramp that had served wartime PBY’s coming and going from the sea. I had expected that we would likewise trundle down it, but before we got there, the pilot gave it the gas and we lifted off.

Conditions were truly barely suitable for flying. The cloud deck was several hundred feet above sea level, or less, so we cruised along just below or sometimes briefly in it. Rain squalls pounded the windscreen regularly, and we gently bounced and rocked in the eddies and swirls of the southerly wind. I watched my map carefully, eager to observe and remember landmarks for later. One in particular I remember – a singular and romantically named offshore pinnacle that I had tried to visualize poring over my charts. “All Alone Stone!” I exclaimed, and the pilot nodded.

We grumbled southward for a half hour, the pilot pointing out features here and there – Hot Springs Island, with a cabin and soaking pools, and logging camps on the bigger islands. The loggers were gradually stripping their way south. He showed us Dolomite Narrows, which would be our closest source of help should we need it – just a few squatters (“hippies”) living there. We glimpsed a shake roof or two through the trees.

Now he advanced the throttle and we climbed toward a gap in the mountains that separated us from our destination at the south end of Moresby Island. Over the misty pass and then a long glide down to Liscombe Inlet ahead, gray and specked white from the wind off the open ocean to the south. Down to a few feet above the waves, we flew on toward a low island ahead as the pilot told us he would set us down in the little bay in the lee of the island. We settled into the quiet water there and idled toward the beach.

“One of you is going to have to wade and hold me off the beach.” The pilot wasn’t getting out. I took off my boots, rolled my pants to the knees, and climbed down to the pontoon as the engine stopped, and then dropped into the icy water – a shock, but I was glad for the numbing of my feet since the barnacled gravel wasn’t comfortable. I pulled a pontoon in as close as possible without grounding it, and Tom leapt for the beach. The pilot started handing bags to me, and I became very busy, since my job was both to pass them to Tom and simultaneously hold the large, heavy aircraft in position against the offshore wind. Soon it was done and I was directed to turn the plane to face seaward. After reassuring us that he’d keep an eye out for us, the pilot closed the door, started up, and was gone.

In my mental preview, I had looked forward to this very moment, but listening to our only link to humankind fade to nothing sent a cold chill down the back of my neck. We had no radio, and just a couple of flares for use in the off chance we might see a boat or a plane, both of which were unlikely in this out-of-the-way coast. So if we get stranded, sick, or hurt and can’t deal with it on our own, we are screwed. 

Which raised the first burning question: do we have a workable boat? This was a more vital question than it was at the beginning of last year’s Alaska trip where we assembled the kayak in the city of Sitka. Here, if we’d forgotten something or a part had been broken in transit, there would be no running to the hardware store to fix it. As we opened our boat bags to find out, another rain shower commenced and the scrubby treetops to windward seemed to dance a little harder.

The boat went together as it was supposed to. It was the same as I’d used in Alaska – a double Folbot with a big plywood rudder and single large cockpit covered by a spray skirt with zip-up closures for each of us. Our gear was either stuffed ahead of Tom’s feet in the front position or behind me in the rear one. Narrower duffel went along each side of us, so that we squeezed into confined but comfortable seats.

Ready to go, we zipped up extra tight as the rain continued, knowing the calm of our bay in the lee would cease as we rounded the island into the open inlet to the south. It was a poor day for paddling and we were barely able to make headway against the wind. We managed four miles down the west shore of the inlet before finding a quiet, pretty cove. Behind a smooth gravel beach was a carpet of moss under Sitka spruces making for a very comfortable camp.

The rain ceased after dinner and the seas on the inlet died to calm. A seal, apparently inexperienced with humans, curiously swam toward us until he frightened himself, dove in a panic, surfaced to seaward, to repeat again and again.

The next morning was beautifully clear and we headed for Anthony Island, site of the Haida village of Ninstints, which contained the most and best-preserved totems. (These place names have since been replaced with the longer and more complex Haida ones, but I’ll continue with those used at the time.)

The Haida abandoned this village about the time my grandfather was born. For about a hundred years the totems here had withstood storms, rot, thieves, and vandals. Though the best of them were removed in 1957 for display in the Provincial Museum in Victoria, those that remained were totally vulnerable. We felt a heavy responsibility about that. Today the Haida Gwaii Watchmen program looks out for this and other sites in the Charlottes, restraining visitors to gravel paths and interpreting the totems and house pits.

We camped four days on the beach directly in front of the village, sometimes peeking over our shoulders at the stern characters that seemed to glare down disapprovingly. I photographed and sketched, wandering around the multi-tiered house pits, and discovering nearly hidden wonders, like a small carved frog on a fallen totem nearly covered with moss in the brush. As I noted in my journal, “something, either a totem or a house post, is visible everywhere around here.” On the beach we found bits of what seemed to be European crockery, and we wondered about its history.

Important and tragic events did occur here in the early years of the Haida’s contact with Whites.

The following was taken from “Anthony Island, a Home to the Haidas”, Report to the Provincial Museum by William Duff and Michael Kew, Victoria, BC, about 1960. Duff and Kew were involved in removing the totems and surveying the village in 1957, and compiled their account from a variety of historical sources.

The Haida at Ninstints had been trading with English ships since about 1787, primarily for furs. The village was known as Koyah’s village, for its chief. Trading with Koyah and his people was friendly, especially with Captain Robert Gray in the Lady Washington (the replica of which is a common sight in northwest coastal waters today). 

In 1791 the Lady Washington returned, now under the command of John Kendrick. When Koyah and others came on board, petty pilfering occurred (as it often did), but when his laundry hanging out to dry was taken, it was too much for Kendrick. He ordered Koyah’s leg to be clamped in a cannon mount and held him there until all of the stolen items were returned and all the furs ashore were brought out and purchased for the price he thought was right. Then the chief was released and the ship quickly departed.

What Kendrick regarded as a simple “lesson” must to Koyah have been a monstrous and shattering indignity. No Coast Indian chief could endure even the slightest insult without taking steps immediately to restore his damaged prestige. To be taken captive, even by a white man, was like being made a slave, and that stigma could be removed only by the greatest feats of revenge or distributions of wealth. This humiliating violation of Koyah’s person must have been shattering to his prestige in the tribe.

Unwisely, Kendrick returned to Ninstints just three days later! Trading seemed to resume normally but after fifty Haida had boarded the ship, Koyah and the villagers took control and forced the crew below. Unfortunately for him, Koyah delayed in taking further action beyond taunting Kendrick. The crew had time to collect firearms and other weapons and retook the ship, slaughtering forty to sixty Haida either on deck or as they fled in canoes, without any injuries of their own.

The effect on Koyah’s prestige of the second defeat can only be surmised. Like the hero of a Greek tragedy, he was pitted against forces stronger than his own, but he had to continue the struggle…And struggle he did. For one thing, he immediately went to war against Chief Skidegate’s tribe. Then, during the next four years, he attacked three more ships. Twice he was successful, overpowering and killing the crews. The third time, however, his attack was repulsed and he himself was killed. This record of four attacks – two successful and two disastrous – established Koyah as the most warlike chief on the whole coast at this time…No other chief succeeded in capturing more than one ship, and his successes probably encouraged others to make similar attempts. His failures fanned the hatred on both sides.

The authors point out that there are several conflicting and inconsistent additions to the account from other sources, so exactly what happened may never be known. The results, however, were tragically clear. Unlike chiefs in the other villages that continue to bear their name, Koyah’s lineage and name faded and the village became known by the name of one of its last lineages of chiefs, Ninstints. The population on Anthony Island declined steadily and then precipitously with the widespread smallpox epidemic of 1862 and others that followed. By the 1880’s the last permanent residents moved to Skidegate.

Having read about these events beforehand, camping at Ninstints, though fascinating, was not comfortable for me. All the sadness and rancor that had happened here was never far from my mind, always with the brooding totems watching us as a reminder.

We explored the rest of Anthony Island, including a circumnavigation and returning several times to a little cove on the south end. It had a spectacular view south along Kunghit Island to Cape St. James, and was surrounded by very rugged rocks. On top of these were auklet burrows, smelling strongly of fish.

We also tried a little foraging to spice up our mundane dried cuisine. I made a crab trap out of two bows of cedar branches, covered with a piece of derelict net, and joined in the middle so it would fold in half when pulled up, trapping the crabs feeding on the clam bait in the middle. We took it out to the center of the cove in the morning and returned to harvest our catch in the afternoon. It was incredibly heavy to pull up, but instead of a seething mass of crabs, there was only a fat multi-armed starfish enjoying the bait. So much for crabbing.

After four days at Ninstints we moved on to Rose Harbour. This was the site of a whaling station that operated from the turn of the century until 1940, and now uninhabited. It was a beautiful but sad place – lots of derelict buildings, whalebone, harpoon heads, and big boilers for rendering the blubber. The bugs were awful. Rose Harbour is a lot different today, with a lodge, restaurant, and kayak rentals and guides.

The next morning we went on north and around the peninsula into Skincuttle Inlet. We made 20 miles due to calm seas and a light following wind. I had made a little 2 by 4 foot square sail that had a pocket to fit over a paddle blade. We took turns holding the “mast” aloft while the other paddled. The high point was sailing around Benjamin Point while we ate lunch. Crossing Carpenter Bay we clocked ourselves at four knots – very good for our boat.

We pulled into Jedway for the night – an abandoned open-pit mine, “a forsaken gravel heap” as I described it, but a fair campsite. In the evening I hiked up the road to the open pit area where I was able to see east over Ikeda Cove and west over Skincuttle Inlet.

In the morning we crossed the inlet to Burnaby Island, and spotted some huts on the beach in Swan Bay. On going ashore I was introduced to a way of life that would leave a lasting impression on me for many years and strongly affect the meaning of sea kayaking for me.

Tom and Tory lived in cabins they had built from driftwood and cedar shakes scavenged from the beach. They were squatters – just one of many back-to-the-land young people from many nations who took advantage of the BC government’s liaise-faire management (seemingly none at all) along the rainforest coast. These people formed dispersed communities in places like Florencia Bay and Flores Island near Tofino on Vancouver Island, and the east side of Moresby Island in the Charlottes. We would meet many of them in the next week.

Though this couple lived in Swan Bay alone, they were only a few miles from others like them in Dolomite Narrows. That was a good thing since Tory was expecting a baby in just a few days. The local acupuncturist from Dolomite Narrows would come to assist and had already delivered several children there.

We stayed 24 hours at Swan Bay, learning about how they lived. They had arrived in an 18-foot sailing canoe (carrying about 1,500 pounds of supplies initially), which they kept anchored in the bay. Occasional shopping trips were made in the canoe. It took about four traveling days to Moresby Landing where they could get a ride to Queen Charlotte City.

Their houses were pentagonal and had a small sleeping loft. They were covered with cedar shakes split from logs on the beach. As is common on beaches not exposed to open sea, small driftwood for fuel was limited, so they burned green alder cut from nearby trees in their wood stove, which seemed to work ok.

We learned about foraging, going with Tom to collect salad greens off the lushly covered nurse logs in the forest. These included chickweed, cleaver, and “pineapple weed”, which may have been chamomile. I still have samples of all these pressed in my journal. They also collected small spruce buds, the inside of a thistle (like celery) and stinging nettles rendered harmless and delicious by steaming. We also tried what the Haida call “gau” – dried ribbon kelp that spawning fish had covered with roe. Toasted a little it was like excellent potato chips. It was illegal for Whites to harvest it, mainly because the Japanese would love to import all of it.

Tom and Tory were not meat-eaters, but due to her advanced pregnancy, Tory was having a strong craving for it. Three or four Sitka deer were frequently hanging around their cabin, munching on the downed alder leaves or sometimes just staring in through the door. Tom had a .22 rifle he had never fired, but this morning he had been thinking that if the deer showed up, he was going to shoot one.  When they arrived, he took it as a sign it was meant to be, and loaded the rifle while Tory sharpened the butcher knife, watched by a buck just a few feet outside the door.  He couldn’t miss with a shot between the eyes and the buck dropped like a rock. The others gave a start, and then went to see why their colleague had suddenly decided on a nap. Soon they were back to browsing while we hung up the carcass for butchering.

As soon as we started, their cat went wild, yowling and rubbing on our legs. Tom saved the heart and liver, figuring the latter would be particularly good for Tory. But the heart promptly vanished, stolen by the cat. We had an excellent stew that night, and they gave us a forequarter which we carried and finished over the next several days. We gave them some candy bars and a book.

About noon the next day we departed for Dolomite Narrows and north. Tom marked out several good cabins that we could use along the way if not occupied.

So what became of Tom and Tory? Sixteen years later this clue emerged in the Burnett Bay cabin journals, written by a prominent and very well traveled kayak designer who had been to the Charlottes at some point after us:

August 2000 …There used to be another wonderful gazebo-shaped cabin at Swan Bay in the Charlottes …the woman who raised three or four children in this cabin now has had the distinction somewhat to the effect of being the leading Winnebago sales person in the US…

  

Coming into Dolomite Narrows we encountered two women and some children picking glasswort. Also known as beach asparagus, it is crisp and a bit salty, and very good either raw or cooked. They canned it for later. There were a half-dozen or so cabins here for several families and assorted single people that came and went. The local acupuncturist/astrologer was also building a 25-foot dory out of chain-sawn red- and Alaska cedar. It looked rough, but impressive given the circumstances. 

After lunch we set out for our next destination – Hot Springs Island. It was about fifteen miles north, so this would be a long day. The weather was beautiful – sunny and a light west wind. Our next question was how to cross Juan Perez Sound, the shortest crossing was five miles, but out of our way. The most direct route was seven miles of open water, and we opted for that. This route would also take us past my object of curiosity – All Alone Stone.

The wind was quartering off our stern, so we raised the sail. I had now made a mast, which held the sail a little higher and allowed us both to paddle. It took only about a half hour to cover the two miles to All Alone Stone. No place for a break here – it was only a hundred yards long and very steep, sitting miles from anything else. We went on toward Ramsey Island. The wind now freshened considerably and the seas built to three feet. I shipped several of them over my lap and got wet as water leaked through the skirt zipper. We made Ramsey Island at 6:30 pm, completing the 6 ½ mile distance in an hour and a half – over four knots!  Not bad for a long haul.

We arrived soon after at Hot Springs Island, totally beat. It was worth it. There was a bathhouse with a tub and two pipes: lukewarm and very hot. You could get just what you wanted by adjusting the two. The only problem was that we couldn’t find any water that wasn’t sulfurous, so in the morning we paddled back to Ramsey with aching arms to get some. The rest of the day was relaxation in the sun. We gathered goosetongue (seaside plantain) and glasswort, fried up some of our venison and poured onion gravy over it, served with steamed glasswort, which was like string beans, but better! Had that with a goosetongue, thistle, and chickweed salad seasoned with reconstituted minced onions and vinegar and oil. Desert followed – chocolate pudding, brandy, and coffee. The best dinner ever.

We spent two nights at Hot Springs, resting, observing, and fantasizing about the lifestyles we seen in this beautiful place. In the early afternoon four fishing boats arrived with eight people to take baths. We were already packing up and left by mid afternoon. The fishing boats passed us later and swung in close for a look – kayaks were still a unique sight.

Camped that night at Gogit Point on Lyell Island – a fantastic spot with plenty of dry moss to lounge on. Walking south from the campsite I found a canoe drag-way, where the rocks had been moved aside all the way down to the low tide line. We figured the Haida parked their canoes here rather than in front of the obvious camp area where the tide flat was much longer.

Had another dinner extravaganza of the remaining venison, dried oxtail soup, glasswort, and goosetongue. Made banana bread in two pans in the coals for desert.

The next morning was intermittent rain with a southeast wind, and we had a nice ten-mile paddle-sail up to Kunga Island. On the way two seaplanes buzzed us, but not our Beaver. We were heading for Kunga cabin, a neat, tiny structure whose builder and sole occupant was somewhere else. The 8 by 10 floor area was just big enough for Tom on the single bunk and me on the floor next to the wood stove. 

The next morning we went directly across the channel to Tanu village site, now another Haida Gwaii Watchmen location. There were no totems here, but there was a well-preserved house pit with the two-level sleeping shelves around the edges, and one standing house post with a beam still in the mortise at one end.

Walking south, I found a gravestone on a little hill, inscribed only with “In Memory of Charlie” and two shaking hands. Really touched me somehow. There were signs that this and other graves nearby had been dug up at some point.

As I sat looking at the stone, I saw a river otter about twenty feet away. He was lying on his back on the moss, wriggling and chuffing as he dried and scratched his back. Then he got up, shook, and trundled back to the beach. A very strangely shaped animal ashore.

One of the pleasures of kayak trips, especially in the early days, was that rounding the next point may bring the totally unexpected. So it was, as we crossed to Louise Island and entered Thurston Harbour. It was a logging camp. I’m not sure why we decided to stop there – a group of trailers and mobile metal buildings surrounded by dismal clearcuts, and marked with a sign “Thurston Harbour Tree Farm”. We tied up at the float in late afternoon and were met by two off-duty loggers, Dave and Jeremy, who told us we were just in time for dinner.

We followed them to the cookhouse where we were welcomed with a sumptuous dinner. I don’t remember what it was other than that my journal reported its excellence and that there was apple pie for desert. Then, most welcome of all, we took showers in the bunkhouse. Dave and Jeremy took us to the beer hall for warm suds, which didn’t impress us very much. The friendliness and generosity of these people certainly did.

Following the beers, we bad farewell and paddled on in a glassy calm evening through a beautiful sunset, heading for Vertical Point which was about six miles distant, and arrived at dark.

There was a cabin here that Tom at Swan Bay had told us about – a tiny “houselet” built by an artist named Benita who spent most of her time somewhere else. Benita’s house was six by eight feet, with a screened porch about the same size. Built from dimension lumber, it contained a stove, single bed, and table or additional bed on the adjacent wall and overlapping the bed – just enough room for the two of us.

There were two people already camped at Vertical Point when we arrived, though not using the cabin. They were also in a kayak and lived like Tom and Tory in a cabin elsewhere on Burnaby Island to the south. They were returning from a shopping trip in Queen Charlotte City. He was Renye, which I’ve doubtlessly misspelled, a French-Canadian from James Bay. She was Adriatique, originally from Argentina. She was in her third trimester of pregnancy.

As we arrived and carried up our boat and gear, Renye warned us that the biggest spring tide of the year would occur that night. I stowed the boat on some ancient drift logs at the back of the beach that appeared to have been there forever, laid the paddles across the cockpit, and went off to bed.

We awoke to find the little cove completely dry, that all of the logs on the beach had been rearranged, and that our boat was vanished. Renye shook his head – we had been warned. We stood in shock. What now? With no radio we’d have to wait here until a fishing boat happened by, or for Renye to pass the word to someone, hopefully before Fall. My humiliation was complete.

But then – oh joy! We saw it lodged on a point about a half-mile away where it had grounded on the falling tide at the last point before floating out into Hecate Strait. Had there been any wind last night it surely would have been long gone.

I took this lesson to heart, and except when parking my boat in the forest, always tied it securely on the back logs regardless of springs or neaps. But it did happen again, though in a different way, which a short digression will explain.

Years later, during my era of exemplary kayaking author and instructor, I made a solo trip to Vancouver Island’s Broken Group in January, my preferred time of year out there. I landed in the south cove at Clark Island, one island in from the group’s Pacific fringe. Pulling up the bow as far as I could without unloading, I walked up the beach to decide on where to camp, here by the old chimney or out on the point. After perhaps a minute I decided on the point, and turned to move the boat down the beach. But it was now a hundred feet off the beach and rapidly heading for Coaster Channel in the light breeze. Take heed: in the winter the huge Pacific swells can create a local surge, like a mini-tsunami, not a wave, just a steady, silent rise in water level across the whole cove, with an equal fall and backflow to follow. Later I watched it happen again, and saw the sea rise several feet and then fall again over the period of about a minute.

I was ashore with nothing. I usually carry up my “purse” – a small dry bag with emergency materials such as fire starter, multi-purpose tool, and a Space Blanket, along with wallet, car keys, etc. Not this time – it was still sitting in the cockpit. I was wearing my rubber knee-boots, quick drying pants, pile tops and paddle jacket, spray skirt, PFD, and Gore-Tex hat. I would have been marooned here for at least three days, the time I did stay, and saw no one.

So I waded and then swam until I could grab the bow toggle and tow it back to the beach. I wasn’t really cold from it, and after dumping the water out of my boots most of my clothes were dry by the time I had unloaded and the camp set up with my wood stove going in the tent. It certainly could have been far worse with my lack of immersion protection (that’s another story) if I had turned to look after the boat a minute or two later. At what point would I have decided not to swim for it?

Anyhow, back to 1974’s Lesson One. We trudged around the cove and out to the point to retrieve our ill-deserved gift from the sea. As expected, there were no paddles in sight. So we took up pieces of driftwood and went out through the extensive kelp beds to look for them. The varnished shaft and blades blended perfectly with the kelp fronds and hoses. Still, we found one of them. The other was gone forever.

We returned to Vertical Point. Renye had been taking advantage of the minus tide to catch an octopus. About then a woman named Becky arrived in a kayak. She lived in Queen Charlotte City and was traveling solo to visit friends in the community around Burnaby Island. Becky expertly pounded the skinned tentacles on a log with the back of her axe and then fried them up for us all in soy sauce and butter. Outstanding, and not tough or rubbery as is its reputation.

Later in the morning when the tide came up, Renye and Adriatique loaded up and headed on to their cabin. As the picture shows, the boat was heavily laden and for this trip Renye had come all the way south with his feet on deck, since he was carrying a French horn he had purchased in the cockpit. One may scoff, but they had been surviving down here for several years, and knew to adjust when and by what route they paddled. I had nothing but admiration for them.

I set to work making a new paddle out of a piece of spruce and a cedar shake, both off the beach. I wired and taped the cedar blade in place. The result was so light and effective that we both vied for a chance to use it on the way to Sandspit, where I sawed it in half to take home for a keepsake and reminder about spring tides.

At the next morning’s minus tide I searched around for another octopus without luck. We settled for horse clams. Tom grabbed the neck while I dug. We skinned and pounded the neck, but it was still tough after frying.

We also paddled out to the Limestone Islands where we found a spectacular natural amphitheater ravine, focused on a huge spruce and with the most luxurious moss we’d yet seen underfoot.

The next day we went on to Skedans, now another Watchmen-protected village site. There were several standing totems, though not as well preserved as at Ninstints. But there was one fallen one that was in excellent condition, with a figure lying on its back with a R.I.P. bouquet of salal in its hands. Sadly, loggers had stripped the forest to the very village edge, and the logger and his wife lived in a trailer there, surrounded by oil drums and refuse.

We stayed some distance to the south in a fisheries cabin. We explored some nearby limestone caves that were quite extensive. Some of these were wave-cut, but well above the normal water level. Far at the back was a collection of large driftwood, attesting to the awesome size of winter storm waves.

As we departed, a sailing catamaran came in to anchor at Skedans. It had been built by Godfrey Stephens, a well-known sculptor from Victoria. Many parts were salvaged from wrecks, and all of it was oiled with pine tar rather than painted. It was about 35 feet long and 20 feet wide, with lots of deck space. Space in the hulls was much more cramped. Godfrey had his workshop in one hull and he and his companion Neva lived in the other. They were exploring south, and we were able to give them pointers about places and edible plants while they cooked us grilled cheese sandwiches on their little wood range. I heard later that Godfrey cruised the BC coast for years in his catamaran, until it broke up off the west coast of the Charlottes. 

We headed north for our last campsite before Sandspit. We found a large rushing stream to camp by, and took water from it to cook our pasta dinner. We served it up and discovered that it was saltwater! The stream was actually the reversing outlet from a tidal lagoon. Another lesson – taste it first. After choking down our dinner, I walked a mile along abandoned logging roads in this flat country looking for water, but found nothing other than a few puddles.

We were on the water at 7 am for our run to Sandspit, since the weather was rainy and a bit windy from the south. It was easy at first, but freshened as we went along. We put up the sail and were pushed along so fast that paddling made no difference. The seas built behind us and I shipped a few into the cockpit, but we kept going. At the airport they told us that it had been blowing over thirty knots. We rounded the spit in very shallow water and landed at the airport only about 300 yards from our point of departure.

Since we were a day early, we stowed our gear at the terminal and went into Queen Charlotte City for the night, taking the barge-ferry across Skidegate Inlet. A nice re-entry – we met a lot of interesting people there

living innovative lives, mainly on boats they had built or maintained themselves.

That concludes the story. I haven’t been back to the south Charlottes and probably won’t. By necessity, it is now vastly changed. Fortunately the voracious logging that was churning southward along Moresby Island has been stopped. The free-spirited community and their dwellings there are all gone. The resurgence of BC’s First Nations’ sovereignty over their cultural resources and the exponential growth of interest in visiting Gwaii Haanas, mainly by kayak, have resulted in a climate of intense management. All of that is necessary. I’m just glad to have seen it before it was.

Burnett Bay Cabin Journals 1985 - 2009

Posted with permission - This was originally posted at WashburneMarine.com by Randy Washburne - I have reformatted Randy's original post to work with my blog format.  In so doing I have attempted to retain all of the original look and feel including punctuation.  My only revisions were to update a couple of website links that were out of date.  

Randel Washburne

Copyright 2007

The Burnett Bay Cabin Journals

In 1985 I built this little cabin hidden in the salal at the north end of Burnett Bay. Doug Simpson of Feathercraft Kayaks was the first to discover it, and others followed, most led to it by tips from other paddlers. Within a few years, a ziplock full of scraps of notes had become several notebooks filled with the entries of kayakers and canoeists, as well as pilots who land wheeled planes on the beach.

What follows is some high-grading from the journal entries from digital photos from its pages. It isn’t a complete record. Some of the older ones have been lost, and transcribing all of them is too much. I’ve omitted shorter entries in which people basically just recorded being there. Some I was unable to read completely from my photos of the pages, so the (?)’s indicate what I couldn’t decipher. Each paragraph represents a separate entry, and I’ve kept them more or less chronological. With some arbitrary exceptions I’ve included only first names. Thanks to those who have photographed and send me journal entries since my last visit.

1985

Aug 20 We arrived here by kayak after an overnight visit at Egg Isl. Traveling down to Port Hardy from Bella Bella, via Goose, Calvert. Enjoyed the view of your wonderful cabin from our tent. How do you feel about others using it? Do you know the history of other cabins here? We’d like to know if you are a kayaker too if you feel like leaving us a note. We find ourselves wishing you were here to tell us the story of your building, even though the solitude and this beach and a half was a paradise to enjoy alone. Doug Simpson and Susan Charnock, Feathercraft Kayaks.

Dec 8-11 Dear Randy,

Ah hah! We know who you are now. This time I’m with Willi. Beautiful weather. Cold nights, clear bright days. This cabin is superb. Thanks, Doug Simpson, Feathercraft Kayaks

The brushwood, though cut for fuel, is beginning to bud. Boncho

1987

June 24 Hi Randy (we assume),

We arrived at your cabin the evening of June 22 in heavy surf approx. 10:30 pm. Our landing was hard on one of our kayaks, breaking a rudder cable. Narrowly missing rocks out front and unable to see the beach due to light we pulled our boats ashore.

Still buzzing we searched for a place for the tent. Was then that we realized we pulled up in your drive-way. After saying “hi” to your house and telling it we are friendly we realized it was alone. So putting all morals aside we decided to give it some company for three nights and two days. Being the only “hotel” as we called her we stayed at since leaving Vancouver over a month ago.

Your stove pipe had collapsed over the winter so we devised a reasonably safe alternative for a small fire.

We stole a little of your wire to fix the rudder cable. Hopefully both parties are happy with this gift.

Being a cabinet maker and my brother a carpenter we’ve marveled at your craftsmanship. The “hotel” is beautifully simple. The setting spectacular “har-ray” for unconventional shelter!

This is one of many stops on our route to Alaska via the Queen Charlottes. You’ve made our stay here quite comfortable and we thank you! Steve and Scott, N. Vancouver

So I wrote this notice and hung it on a nail above the stove:

NOTICE. This cabin was built by a kayaker for anyone who paddles, rows, or swims along this coast. As builder I have NO proprietary feelings here (guess I enjoy the building as much as staying) – this place is everybody’s. I haven’t been back here for two years. The stovepipe is in its last stages of life, so be very careful and keep a small fire. Pass the word south for someone to bring up four lengths of 4” stove pipe and an elbow when they come here! Take the pipe down (new pipe, that is, don’t disturb this) and cover the hole when departing and it will last much longer. (Audrey Sutherland later added more instructions in a tiny hand, no longer legible) 

1988

June 12-16 Paddled from Port Hardy via Deserters Group. Having a cabin is wonderful! I brought the lengths of 4” stovepipe and a cap, but didn’t know about the elbow so it is still a makeshift. I’ll take down the top section when I leave and cover the hole.

A fire is laid ready to light in case you arrive cold and wet. There’s a lighter and some tea in the cupboard.  I laid a new floor, scrounging 2-by lumber from the far reaches of the beach. It isn’t nailed down. The owner should approve first. For nailing, there is a vertical strip of 1-by at 2’ intervals. There also is a layer of black plastic on the ground under the 1-bys to keep out the damp. Of nailing in, shove it all toward the door to close any cracks.

The door was binding and I put a spacer under the top hinge and waxed it. Now it neither squeaks nor binds, and the sliding bolt fits better.

Cleared some brush, planted some ferns, stacked lumber, and brought in firewood.  The stream to the north is a good little one. Not much rain as glad not to be dependent on catchment.

Leaving Thursday the 16th, weather permitting, for Bella Bella, solo, in my inflatable Semperit kayak. Great cabin. We need another one twenty miles north! Kayakers could maintain them. Audrey Sutherland, Haleiwa, HI

1990

May 22 En route from Port Hardy north, going toward Ketchikan, going as far as the boat, the body, and the weather permit. Today 30 knots from the SE. Yesterday 25 knots from the N. Tomorrow?

Great to read all your notes. 

New elbow installed and spare under the bunk. 

The strange piece of plywood on the woodpile is a mast step/foot brace. Decided it was more liability than asset. Use that nice 7 ply mahogany if you can or feed it to the fire.

That dead tree by the back right corner is a worry. Could two strong guys with ropes pull it down and over away from the cabin? I didn’t dare try. 

This place is always the high point of the trip. Only twice now but sure looked forward to it and hate to leave. “Once upon a time there was a tiny magic cabin in the forest and…” Audrey Sutherland Kayak “Diodon” (the balloon fish)

Aug 9 We are rowing (two 15 foot rowboats with sliding rigging) from Skagway to Seattle.

Seen some outstanding wildlife, met people that we will remember forever, and had some great experiences. Not that I would want to repeat every day, but the trip has been much more than I expected.

Tonight we dined on some wonderful sockeye given to us by a kind Canadian fisherman. Although I have gotten real attached to our mildewed, bug squashed tent, it is so nice to sleep in this jewel of a cabin. Life is very good today.

Thank you unknown kayaker and builder of this cabin. (aka Randy?) Sue and Wayne, Corvallis, OR

Sept 24 Came by to visit an old camping spot and lo! A beautiful ‘nother cabin – recognizable – again [?] off to the cabin maker! The new (11th?) commandment – kayakers: “Thou shalt not travel without a length of 4” stovepipe”.

I had put in to John’s creek and left a stash or oats, rice, [?] in there if anyone needs (extreme S end of beach). Replaced window, etc. South now to Sointula. Stewart Marshall

1991

Aug 1-5 Arrived by inflatable 13’ kayak. Same boat since 1984. Now has about 4000 miles under the hull in Alaska, BC, Ireland, Norway, Scotland, and its home Hawaii. 

Cabin in good shape except for the torn window over the door, Replaced it from supplies under the bunk. I nailed on covers that can be easily removed while you’re here.

One third of the forest between cabin and west beach has been denuded. Quite a storm in from the sound last winter.

Yes the green foam mattress and the iron skillet belong at John’s cabin. Someone said he has given it up and moved to the Prince Rupert area.

And hello to Stewart Marshall, an new user and maintainer. Doug, I’ll probably see you in Vancouver as I think this paddler has a few more years to go than the old faithful boat does.

Wally and Heather from Saltspring Island in a 19’ canoe paddled in from Bella Bella and camped down past the river.

If you find a suitable piece of plywood you might cover the west window before the winter. 

A poor vintage year for dimensional lumber. A bit at the SE end of the beach. 

Wolf tracks here the length of the beach the first morning but none since. One black tailed deer, flocks of ruddy (black?) turnstones, two gray whales, eagles, two ospreys, ravens, banana slugs, and is it the winter wren who twitters unseen?

Leaving Monday morning heading for Shelter Bay, the Deserters, Port Hardy. Then the ferry to Prince Rupert and paddle to Ketchikan. 

Last year with more time I went from Port Hardy not only toward but to Ketchikan, a fine trip of 400+ miles then out along the east coast of Dall Island, a place of williwaws.

This time more exploration of Fillmore Inlet, Nekat Bay, and Boca de Quadra. Boat, seas, and wind willing. Audrey Sutherland

1992 

May 25 Kathy and I ended up staying five days – turns out I finally blew something in my back after paddling a double by myself and hauling 60 lbs of camera gear and a 10 lb tripod through the rainforest and beach rocks. But what a place to let the tendons heal! Kathy took a walk with two deer yesterday, staying within 50’ of them until the small creek south of here – that had her bouncing all day. Weather’s been great, lots of sun and great clouds, cheesy sunsets, and a beautiful moon. The cabin is perfect. And built by a paddler to boot!

On the way down we met a 30’ boat called “Baidarka”. The owner (can’t remember his name) is working with George Dyson to establish a string of campsites and/or cabins from Seattle to Glacier Bay. He has been getting organized to approach the US gov. for funding, but didn’t mention the Canadian gov.

The object of the project is to establish camps for sea kayakers. 

We left a tarp, seam sealer, a spatula, and some sno-seal toward the cause… Murray and Kathy

Greetings Cabin Denizens, We surfed our kayaks in here yesterday under a bright, blazing sun. Our friend Jim had already arrived earlier in the day due to us being gobbled in the ebb just past the Fox Group. This cabin is really funky – yet another reason for us to stay an extra day. If only someone were able to leave an old surf or boogie board here. We body surfed near the N curve of the bay and got some awesome rides. Kudos to all who have made it to this area in the past and will do so in the future. You are walking a groovy path! Jason 

It would be nice to spend more time here but the northward urge is pulling us on! I could easily find myself happily stuck here for weeks if I didn’t have the idea of a trip to Alaska stuck in my head. The cabin is telling me to mellow out, but I’m curious to see the rest of the coast. Luckily everybody who has been here makes me feel welcome to return. I’ll see you soon! Robson 

Burnett Beach had a high recommendation and it far exceeded it. We watched osprey catching sole in the surf, grey whales feeding offshore, an adult and a young peregrine falcon chasing shorebirds and gulls on the beach, and followed wolf tracks all the way to the small river estuary. We also seem to have hit the first big wave of fall shorebird migration – in the last few days the number s of sandpipers has swelled from a few to MANY. Mainly westerns, a few least, some semi palmated plovers, and a small flock of (?). We are leaving a half-dozen candles and a small crab trap for the cabin. Good paddling to all. Ken and Dana 

 Aloha teeny tiny cabin in the woods on a beach by the ocean. Whales & wolves, great blue heron and the loon are part of your never ending story. Our story begins with the eleven mile walk to a beach on the island of Kauai, called Ka La Lau. While looking north and east a dream came alive. Neither of us had any canoe experience but agreed if we purchased one in Juneau maybe we would make it to Bow, Washington and a restaurant named the Oyster Bar for one grand meal. Three weeks from journeys end we paddle around Cape Caution, surf into dakine and have soaked up three glorious days of sunshine and sorely needed rest. We launch this morning into the mist wishing much maholo to the unknown cabin artisan. Cleared the trail for you who read this now. Dream with Starlight, Believe, Become, Be! Aloha nici loa, White Elk and Nearly Normal Norman from Maui  

Aug 7-9 Arrived by kayak around noon and set up camp on beach in front of cabin. We decided to stay put for a couple of days because of the continuing southerly winds and rain. We’re on our way from Hakai to Port Hardy, so southerlies are not appreciated. While here, we’ve hiked to the other end of the beach and back, flown our kites, read our books, watched the whales, and generally just relaxed.

We’ve added a few touches to this cabin: candles, wood floats, an oar and broom from our beach-combing, and a mobile which Jean made. We’ve also left some wood we gathered from the beach. We hope it stays dry for the next traveler(s). 

It was fun visiting this special cabin and reading the entries of everyone, a few of whom we know or have heard of. We’re off to an early start in the morning (southerlies or not!). No doubt we’ll be back. Thanks to everyone who has helped to keep this cabin a safe haven for weary and wet travelers. Jean and Steve, N. Vancouver

[…] For me its as though I’ve finally found “home” after so many, many years of looking. I will leave a part of my soul here and will return to the “unreal” world clutching a bit of this place to my heart – a sort of talisman against the “craziness” out there. Thank you little cabin and all of you, my companions on journey of life! The Pacific Coast book is my humble offering to the spirit of adventure/exploration/discovery and knowledge here. Thank Audrey for the tip on this place. Jim, kayak “Ghost”, Eureka, MT

1993

June 27 Thanks for the info about your cabin. Been raining everyday but not yet today. This would be snug in bad weather. Camped at the far end (and I mean FAR!)  of beach. Tom Steinburn, Lee/Judy Moyer, Ken/Angie Green 

July 2 Beautiful sunny day then a tad hazy but what the … I’ve been in this area (Bella Bella on down) for 3 weeks and it has rained everyday, sometimes 36-48 hours straight so I can deal with a little haze.

Great hotel here folks. Heard about it from Audrey Sutherland. Thanks for the secret info kiddo. I’m the fellow who cornered you at Ecomarine with all the charts of this area. You gave me a wealth of information that would have taken me years to organize – all  in 10 minutes.

 We are waiting very patiently for your book to come out too. At your slide show you handed out pages of How to Stay Warm Dry Healthy and Well Fed (something like that). It was really well written and again, lots of hints to make a trip much more worry free. I have adopted many of your ideas from that booklet and found them to be incredibly helpful. I too am a solo kayaker so having simple things like colour coded ropes of different lengths make setting up a tarp in the pouring rain after a day’s paddle much simpler. It was fun to read and had a maternal sharing/caring kind of air to it too. Thanks thousands!

Alas I babble – haven’t talked to anyone in 3 weeks so I’ll shut up and leave some space here for someone else. Hope to be able to leave something useful here in the cabin, in return for its comfort and coziness – found a Scotty pump we kayakers use. I’ll leave that. WMP, Vancouver

4 July Another sunny day – yesterday too. Last nights full moon had me jogging naked in the surf at midnight. Had moonlight bouncing off the waves east bound and bioluminescence on the return trip. Very therapeutic – I highly recommend it. Heading for Shelter Bay in early AM. Hope to be on the water by 6am so nity-nite for now. PS I’m stealing some sand as a souvenir. WMP

9 July Forget that. It’s too nice here. Besides, there are gale force winds out there – been here since Monday morning. Nice and sunny thought. …

“Cabin Builder” returns after five years absence! Can’t believe its been so long. I am pleased to find the place in such good shape and to see that so many people have enjoyed it through the years. Traveling solo, it feels really companionable to read the log and see the touches, big and small (Audrey’s especially), and offerings left behind. Anyhow on my way from Bella Bella to Pt Hardy via W Athelone, Goose I., Triquet I, and west Calvert. Had a fantastic sail (in my kayak) down Calvert before NW wind, made it all the way from Pruth Bay to Grief Bay in a day and still had time to tack into the bays and land here and there. Hard to stop for long when the wind says let’s go! I think I’ll write some stories and ideas about the cabin and beach on a separate sheet (save space here) and put it in the archives. We desperately need a stove replacement. Don’t know when I’ll get back up here, so I’ll write some ideas for building a simple breakdown one to bring up in a kayak. Randy 

Its foggy out. I can’t see my friends. I feel all alone, peaceful and safe. Robson told me about this place. Told me to say hello for him. I knew it had to be …How to describe a place like this? A place I’ve been looking for. Thanks for the cabin and especially the archives. Your spirit of adventure and discovery is contagious. Dominique

Sept 13 Checking out Smith Sound and the NW coast down to Hardy. This place stirs the kayak blood making me want to see the whole NW coast. Arrived to Burnett on a glittering sunny evening greeted by whales. Enjoyed the magic of watching northern lights in the sky. Hope to be back soon. Thanks for this special place – good to know its here. Natasha

Sept 13 There is no other place I’d rather have a birthday, 26 now. The gang is camped down at the south end near the estuary. Paddled up to the other cabin at high tide, beautiful place. We were here last summer too but the cabin here was occupied by another solo kayaker. Goodbye for now, expecting to be back in the future. Rob

My second visit to the bay. The most beautiful spot on a coast of beautiful places. Great to read the words of so many friends in the logbook and to reflect on the community of paddlers and good souls plying these waters. Grant Thompson

1994

A real beach! After the first few days of “barnacle bays”, what a treat! We’re heading for Ketchikan and I, on to Sitka. That is, if I can improve my camping efficiency. The first few days of a long trip are always for me, getting organized, getting down the routine figuring out what to put in which bag, or in which bag what is! So far this early (May) departure to Alaska is working. We’re planning on heading up the outer coast rather than the inside passage. I hope the weather and swell permit a relaxing rather than adrenaline filled trip. Randy, we failed, we didn’t get your stove to this wonderful cabin. Fearing huge swell (that did not materialize) we stashed the replacement in the outer passage at Slingsby Channel. Well, we did haul it 300 miles to just three short of its destination. We’ll give you the “pirate map” to pas on to another northbound paddler. Stove pipes pretty moist – end of the season people should take it down and let the flap down over the hole. Time to move. Enjoy this wonderful spot. I’m thankful that there are still places like this in the world – uncontrolled and depending on the cooperation of strangers. Craig 

 Just spent most delightful week here at cabin after kayaking from Pt Hardy to Prince Rupert (returned on ferry and then back up to here). Installing the new stove was my excuse for returning – but that only took the first afternoon. Sunny and warm this week, spent very little time in cabin, opting to sleep on beach under moon and sun. Our paddle north went very well – 29 out of 31 days the wind was at our back – lots of rain but the sun would make a brief showing before despair set in. Stayed to the outside all the way but for Banks Island where multiple gales and storms cooled our jets and sent us to the inside until Porcher Island. We stopped off at Egg Island light station and met the keepers there. As they don’t get too many, they enjoy visitors – you might call them on VHF ch 9 or just drop in. In any case, watch the landing. The little “beach” on the backside can get nasty! Because of budget cuts this might be the last season for the lightkeepers; visits help them fight for operation. I’ve added some new menu items for the mice on the bookshelf just in case corny, WWII nautical thrillers have grown tiresome to their tiny little palates. A big thanks to everyone who has taken such excellent care of the cabin. Such cooperation gives me hope for humanity. Best wishes to all who ply these waters this summer and fall! (winter?) Happy Bracing, Noel

Sept 5 I’ve been coming here since 1988, and this time brought a log book to tape in all the assorted notes before and after that summer. Some notes were undated but are in approximate order. Entries after this date should go in the green log book. A. Sutherland

Arrived from Port Hardy in the Banana Slug, a 13’ 1986 model Semperit inflatable kayak, via Deserters, Shelter Bay, Allison Harbour. Steady rain or headwinds on both. This boat is truly sluggish, but its safe and reasonably light to carry (33 pounds). I brought four lengths of 4”, foot long stove pipe and installed it. A great improvement to go with the new stove brought by Noel and Craig. A steady rain and SE wind. Not unusual after fifteen summers and 7,030 miles on the coast between Thurlow Island and Skagway with side trips to Dall Island, Sitka, outer Baranof, Fillmore Inlet. A full gale, 4000 miles, 9 bear tooth holes, and ten years of UV rays finally did in my fast and faithful 83 model Semperit. When leaving the cabin always use the outside ladder and remove the top section of stove pipe and cap and store them inside. Cover the hole with the metal flap and weight it down. In September always cover the front window with shakes. Side window too, for winter north winds. Aloha to old friends and new ones. Wonderful to read the story in the archives of the building of this place. Audrey Sutherland  

1995

Arrived from Blunden Harbour in rain and wind by rowing dory (designed and built by me). Started in Vancouver and headed north til I get tired of it. I am mildly surprised to be here for three days and not see any other kayakers. I cleaned up the “semi-mouse proof” cupboard – all food left here should be in tins or suspended. I will try to get off the beach tomorrow on the 5 am high tide. If the surf isn’t too radical – I must be careful, I’ve already broken one oar in the tidal rapids at the mouth of Blunden Harbour lagoon. Now only have one spare – I’ll carve another oar or two in Bella Bella. Happy Paddling. Dennis

En route from Bella Bella to Port Hardy via west side of Athlone, Goose, Triquet, outside Calvert Island. Wonderful place to spend three days before finishing a super trip. Off to Slingsby and Schooner Channels, then home. Thanks to Randy and the rest of you. Added Medicine for Mountaineers to the library. Kent, Tom & Yvonne

I, the city slicker, six years ago married an avid kayaker, so here I am at Burnett Bay in my own low-volume Enetai kayak. It was quite an experience paddling from Allison Harbour to Burnett. Huge swells. Beautiful weather (til today, raining) and wonderful place, gorgeous beach, peaceful, quiet, etc. But, the obese mouse that some kind person trapped in June of this year, left several children and they all dine on paper (prefer magazines to paperbacks), tinfoil, plastic, or anything we leave behind. It seems a good idea to not leave anything behind. Gunvor (my wife)

Spent a nice week after arriving in big swells – three days of sun, one of drizzle, and one of actual storm (winds to 50 kts), rare for this season. Spent most of the time building the outhouse. Lots of osprey out on the beach and wrens in the bushes. Things look really good at the cabin and as usual the beach is beyond what I remembered. Left new stovepipe but not installed (save til needed). Randy 

1996

Jan 27 Stopped once again, and we’re on new spotter course. Weather great. Mike says he’ll stay over. I see we still need 4” stove pipe. Bill Velie, Port McNeill

Jun 21 Had a leisurely trip up from Port Hardy starting June 14. Stayed the first 3 nights in the [?] Islands. Great little beach with white sand and island to walk around, not much fresh water. Lots of eagles and river otters. Next 4 nights on a rock beach with small boulder cover somewhere south of Shelter Bay. Pulled in out of large waves and headwinds into what turned out to be a great place to stay. Lots of walkable rocks and log beach and a strong running stream with fresh water pools in the sun. Next to Skull Cove for 2 nights. Buggy campsite but great area to explore on day paddles. Met some whale researchers setting up their summer camp. Will be there through Sept. They’re working on getting that area established as a marine reserve to protect gray whale feeding grounds as many are staying for the summer and not going farther north. They’re trying to keep out a proposed recreational lodge and some fish farms. Next stop this beach. Wow, wish we’d gotten here sooner so could spend more time. Came in on flat calm water at Evader Creek set up camp and next morning followed 2 sets of wolf tracks to this end of the beach and now the cabin. Lots of whale activity in the bay yesterday. Got buzzed by a helicopter flying at about 300 feet the full length of the beach. Was hoping to see some wildlife. If anyone knows of any efforts to protect this area from commercial exploitation including fly-in tour groups please let me know. Lets hope it doesn’t change too much. Heading for Pt Hardy tomorrow. Will try to visit again in Sept. Really enjoyed reading the log books. Will bring another next visit. Scott, Oak Harbor, WA PS Just walked the beach north to the farthest point you can see from here. Really great. There’s usually an animal trail.

June 24 We didn’t stay in the cabin on these blowing yet sunny days in late June, but it is heartening and amusing to find this seaside sanctuary. I feel kinship with the people who have stayed here. I like many of you shall return to these shores – in person, and in my dreams. How did all that sand get up there? [?]

(A solo canoeist traveling to Alaska with his dog): Charlene is sprightly now, running lightly through the surf line, occasionally leaping toward the sun to celebrate the joy of the day. Suddenly the impact of it all strikes me; the absolute conveyance of mind, body, and spirit. With energy charged, I lift up the perfect stick of cedar, arc it back over my head, and throw it down the surf line as far as I can…with a surge of energy Charlene bounds up on her hind legs, tracks the stick in the air, then charges down the beach to snap up the stick in her jaws on the second bounce. Moments to treasure. Don 

Watching a grey whale feeding off the beach while writing. A wonderful place! We started at Port Hardy and will go to Indian Cove and return. Thick fog when we left Shelter Bay but it cleared at Skull Cove and the wind died off for a nice paddle up to here. As one who is new to the sport I am amazed at the great kayaking community out there and the trips people do along the coast. I hope this area is kept in pristine condition for future low impact users. Met a Tofino Expeditions group, one plane on the beach, and the SURF group studying grey whales from Skull Cove. Bob and Steve 

On our way from Bella Bella south around Cape Scott and down, hopefully to Victoria. So far we’ve been too wrapped up in the trip logistics to appreciate our connection to the “Earth”, but the log book here at least made us feel at one with the community of kayakers. Like many of you, we were hoping to make this trip on two levels – physical and personal/spiritual/philosophical. What we think we’ve learned at this point is that too much emphasis on the geographical(?) journey interferes with the personal journey. Maybe you have to slow down to get anywhere that matters! Take a break from the obsessions with when to paddle, how far to go, and all the accompanying concerns (my dad in the run-up to our departure, said that what people fear most is discomfort. He’s probably right at least as regards me.)

I’m reading Walden, by Thoreau, and quite enjoying it. All the more so through seeing these cabins, especially the one at the far south end where John actually lived – I fancy – the simple life endorsed by Thoreau. My favorite quote from Walden so far, for those of you who haven’t read it, is:

“By a seeming fate, commonly called necessity [most people] are employed…laying up treasures which mold and rust will corrupt and thieves break through and steal. It is a fool’s life, as they will find when they get to it, if not before.”

For all you closet cabin-builders, however, I should quote:

“Who knows but if men constructed their dwellings with their own hands, and provided for themselves and families simply and honestly enough, the poetic faculty would be universally developed, as birds universally sing when they are so engaged?”

Sadly, though, we have become so specialized in society that we contract our even our singing and dancing and sports to “professionals” (and labour ourselves to pay them for these services!!)

Jerry has been reading about Joseph Campbell, who, in his younger days, spent 5 years living alone in the woods (also doing a lot of reading!). He offers you this:

“If you follow your bliss, you will always have your bliss, money or not. If you follow money, you may lose it, and you will have nothing.”

Wishing you calm waters and happy paddling.  Julie & Jerry 

Greetings again little cabin. You and I first met in July 1992. I was headed north to Alaska. After a most interesting summer that year, I’d in fact made it to Juneau. This year, I am traveling south and on only a 10 or 12 day journey from Finn Bay to Port Hardy. I have my wife Susan with me this time. She was only an undefined dream back then. Now she is reality and its my sublime pleasure to share with her some of my magic moments and placed I’d experienced. We’ve been to Fury Island, Cranstown Point, the Golden Sand Beach, around the cape, and walked this beach, experiencing the pleasure of place and one another. You, little cabin, are wonderful as always. Never change. Always be here, for the next time! To all our fellow paddlers, rowers, etc, once again hello. It is a great pleasure and honor to meet you here through these pages once again. And, to one special one who also loved me, maybe still does, you’ve been on my mind since the moment I set foot on the beach. Your spirit pervades the place and everywhere where the wind meets the sea and the sea meets the land. Jim & Susan

The authors of “Homelands: Kayaking the Inside Passage”: We are on our way to Port Hardy via the route many people in the log have taken – Shelter Bay and Deserter Island. Thankful for the advise. We’ve been paddling since April 13. Started in Glacier Bay, and then have paddled SE through Hoonah, Tenakee Springs, Angoon, Kake, Wrangell, Ketchikan, Prince Rupert, Bella Bella, here. We recommend the Tenakee Portage and Rocky Pass. Our summer has been filled with unexpected delights and challenges and I’m sure they’ll continue as we make our way to Nisqually Delta, south. This cabin has been one of the delights. We are proud to be part of the kayaking crew along the coast, and enjoying places like this that are hard to get to. Make sure to look for a book by Byron coming out in 1998 by Scribners Publishing of New York. Book about (?) and natural history of the coast as we experienced it (not a guide book). Maren VanNostrand and Byron Ricks

On a trip north to Alaska from Bellingham. Just finished the outside of Vancouver Island. Saw lots of grey whales feeding off sand beaches and even just off shore of the Storm group. Had mostly NW winds and hot sun until now, overcast but not too windy. Great hut! Glacier Bay here I come! Mariner II Rules! Mike

Hello again. It has been a few years and things have remained wonderfully unchanged – a huge thanks again to the builder and various caretakers of the cabin. Three years ago it was this very site (and many of the notes in the logbook) that inspired the creation of the BC Marine Trail Association and for that reason (as well of course the bay’s incredible scenery and this cabin’s amazing sense of warmth) this place will always be very close to my heart. It’s great to see so many members of the association in this log. Sorry to have missed you Jim – it was only by two days. For those who don’t know about the Marine Trail organization, it is comprised of a group of paddlers who are trying to protect and help care for many of the valuable camping sites along the coast. Not every site will have a cabin, or be as magnificent as this one, but when completed paddlers can be assured of an unbroken string of sites along the whole coast. Your help in this endeavor would be greatly appreciated … Anyways, after a few days of surfing and relaxing it is now time to move on and continue this journey from Rupert to Vancouver. I hope to see it all again soon! Pete McGee

After a week on this fabulous beach, we move on, south from Prince Rupert. A great cabin, an amazing spot to remember. Look back at times like this, and I hope to return. For all you that stay here in the future, enjoy it. I for one, won’t forget. Ian, Vancouver

Sept 22 Four paddlers up from Port Hardy and [?] Islands. Tried to land in very heavy surf conditions at south end of beach. All four capsized in deep water. We all made it in between 5 and 10 minutes later. Two boats damaged, one badly and one person with badly torn finger from hanging onto rudder cable in surf. Had to call Pt Hardy for rescue boat that picked him up at this end of the beach in much reduced surf conditions approx 8 hours after capsize at approx 1am. I, we made many mistakes and learned many lessons, too many to list here but one was we arrived late and tired which combined with a strong desire to be here led to very bad judgment as to what were acceptable surf conditions. I never thought I’d use my radio but will never paddle without one again. It worked great from here on high power. Always wear your PFD!

The broken boat is at the south end of the beach. I’ll return next spring to fix it and two it home after a good long stay on this beautiful beach. Had 3 days of mixed rain and sun breaks, then today clear blue sky and hot sun with lite west wind. Plan to move south tomorrow if conditions are good. We love this place. Happy and safe paddling Scott

Sept 22 I came here with my brother and two other paddlers. He’s explained the gist of our misadventure – our “landing” in his entry. What he does not mention, perhaps from not wanting to relive the horror of that situation, was that I was the only one not wearing my PFD when we attempted the landing. I won’t go into the details, but I spent 15-20 minutes being pummeled by breakers and dragged around by the currents. That I am here to write in this log is a miraculous event.

There is no way to over-estimate the power and unpredictability of the surf here, particularly near high tide. Land at one far end of the beach or the other. Don’t under-estimate conditions – prepare for the worst. If you have an easy landing you can forget about it and enjoy Burnett Bay’s wonders and beauty. If conditions turn sour, which can’t always be judged from the water, God and your PFD may be the only things that allow you to enjoy this place or anything again.

My love and best wishes to you all, Burr

(This accident was written up in Sea Kayaker magazine, I think in 97) 

1997

June 9 The first here this year. Your world here is a magical place. We dropped off some canned food in case anyone is ever in need. Any one who has such refined craftsmanship would surely enjoy a good can of salmon. It’s now 10:30 at night and we must head – too bad we didn’t have time to explore here today. Your cabin sparks our imagination and our dreams. Charlie and Lindsay

June 15 I was with Scott and Burr (see Sept 96) last year – I gave the surface of one finger to the south beach. A testament to the power of the ocean. A word of caution for the day that goes a little too long, and attitude that is a little too anxious. I  return this year to thank the beach and my friends for coming back. This includes Bob who I’ve paddled with in Baja, Canada, Lake Superior. Lets do it yearly. Tim, San Francisco

June 29 Fourth time past but first time I’ve stopped. Nice to see the community spirit behind the messages and the building. I agree with Haddington John – its getting crowded along this coast. I hope Randel’s idea of a coastal trail doesn’t mean a new group of travelers who can get here more easily but may not have the time to develop the sense of community. Don’t destroy what we all love, the wild coast. May the winds be fair and at your back. Chris, Hornby Island

Once a cabin builder always a cabin builder. Heard about the cabin with wooden hinges from Rob and Loren years ago. It has been long overdue, but always better late than never. Love it all, the powerful waves impossible to grasp, the beige sand, white wood and green lush forests. Love the cabin. Martin (cabin builder, not this one though)

6/23 We are two kayakers, surfed in last night after making the crossing from Bull Harbour. Landed mid-afternoon dog tired and hungry – made dinner and crashed for a 3 hr nap in your bunk – crafted perfectly for my 6’4” frame. Your clean and tidy cedar palace was a treat on this drizzly night. We can see that much care and hard work has been seen in this hut and plan to leave it just as we found it. We are off to Alaska on a summer adventure.

I wish you many cozy evenings reading by the fire. Owen[?] and David, Seattle

Arrived last night in fairly calm seas, but never cease to respect the power and (?) of this place. The beach is beyond words. I am in awe. Last night was clear, no wind and we sat around the camp fire excitedly admiring the dancing lights of the aurora borealis. Amazing, magical place. Enjoying it fully. Loved reading the journal. Jennifer 

Aug 5 As I’m sitting here listening to the surf pounding against the beach I can’t think of a better place to be. Thank you for taking the time and care to build such an interesting place. Is it true that everything you need you brought in your kayak? As for the beach may it remain in its present state – relatively untouched. Both nights I’ve been here whales have been playing in the surf at sunset. The [?] speaks for itself. On my way south from here and toward the land of built up beaches. Since Prince Rupert I’ve seen some amazing beaches, yet this has been the best. Thanks again, Bruce

Aug 25 First time here, camped at south end of beach by estuary. Awesome place, big swells and the reef offshore is amazingly powerful – happy to land and set up camp! John, Squamish, BC

Wonderful to find a piece of tranquil paradise in this busy overrun world and to read of previous visitors to this cabin who have put their heart and soul into maintaining it.  Hope to return one day again and see it again…off to look for whales and beach treasures. Lia alias Queen Mom

What was to have been a brief stop, snack, and stretch turned into a hostage situation: I became captive to the long, sunny crescent of sand, the whales splashing their massive flukes offshore, the eagle and osprey that glide overhead, the loon bobbing in the swell, plovers and sandpipers probing for lunch, and the river otter that ambled from driftwood across the sand and into the surf. I gladly delayed my solo trip northward to spend the day in such fine company. A fine cabin too. Thanks to all who take care of it. Gary

1998

We must be the first ones here this year. Saw footprints in the sand but haven’t seen a person for two days. On our way from Port Hardy to Hakai Reserve and ? We have had two perfect days. How could they not be in a place like this. Long walks and lots of solitude. It is good to know that places like this still exist. Didn’t stay in the cabin but what a great idea. Terry

Hi Randy and others, we hope that this note finds you in sunny weather. We held off our departure in Pt Hardy for two days because of solid rain and fog. Departed under grey skies and lingering fog and fingers crossed. Arrived at Deserters, the cabin is going back to the bush. Saved by the clippers, we cut out a tent site. Next Allison Harbour, a welcome spot in a tough coast line for camping. Crossed Slingsby on a lingering ebb and west swells and the ride got a little hairy. We will work harder on current predictions. So as not to experience that beast again! Arrived here about 2pm yesterday. The grey skies cleared and the beach sparkled as we made a smooth landing at high tide. Your cabin and a bagel with cheese and cucumber sandwich never sounded so good. The cabin is in great shape. This is a very special and magical place. We enjoyed all the amenities. Leaving tomorrow for Juneau in our Libra XT “Mehana” (Warmth of the Sun) Matt and Emily from HI 

  What a splendiferous little slice of heaven this is! On our way down from Bella Bella, with amazingly calm conditions today rounding Cape Caution – we paddled so close I could’ve hit the light with a yogurt-covered raisin. Blessed are we of small and simple paddle craft. Safe travels and fair seas to all who pass this way…Bruce 

Stopped here on our honeymoon. Thought at first that the cabin was Kayak Bill’s. It is so interesting to converse in this way with other who have been to this beautiful beach and others who will be here. (?) and Jennifer 

To savour places like Burnett Bay is to believe that all is really well with the world. Judi

A perfect sanctuary on a long, long trip. I remember listening to an aged Tibetan monk who had one thought to impart to me and that was that we all want happiness, and happiness is brought about by abundance, and abundance is the result of generosity. Thanks to the generosity of spirit of all who sustain this cabin. Derek

Back again after another three year absence. Things still look in good shape, except that the stove is inoperable due to lack of a serviceable elbow. Someone (perhaps those of you from nearby who fly in regularly), please bring us a 4-inch elbow and some more pipe! This journal is now the jewel of this place. So many people have contributed their spirits, and you’re all here now! Maybe these little books are the best evidence to advocate keeping the bay as it is – if we got a public official who was to make some decision about Burnett Bay to read

this, how could he do otherwise! To all of you, thank you. Anyhow, thanks for sharing your joys, and in some cases, terrors, in this place. Randy

It’s been six years since my last (and first) visit, and I’m very happy to be back, this time with my good friends, Ken and Rob. We arrived in a mild northwestery and paddled our kayaks easily into shore between the two islands. We set up camp near the entrance to the cabin trail. We noticed that a significant amount of wood lay unburned on the sand. It would be nice if everyone could burn all wood to white ash and cover it before leaving. Although it does require effort we do try and practice no trace camping, and we hope others will do their best as well. Today we explored toe beach to the river and up to John’s deserted cabin. I found a glass ball – Yahoo! We saw very little wildlife while we were here. Tomorrow we head for Shelter Bay, and back to Port Hardy. The cabin is left in fine shape. Thanks to everyone! Steve

Aug 8 Ocean Falls to Port Hardy. After 2 idyllic weeks paddling the outside islands and west coast of Calvert we took refuge in this welcoming hut whilst the storms raged. We have baked cookies and bread whilst remaining warm and dry – thanks to Randy! Perry, Ian, Heidi, and John PS Every time I feel the dent in my forehead, I’ll remember this great cabin. JJ

Aug 19 What a magical spot to spend a day and a half. Weather has been glorious in Burnett Bay and ours a diverse group – Veronica and Conrado from Rome, Kristen and Tripp from Boulder, Leslie from Portland, Bob from La/Portland/Seattle, Pat and Russ from St Louis, [?] from CT, Anne from Seattle, and guides Gene and Eric

Aug 19 It’s been a long time coming. It has taken 3 attempts to get here, and today is the day. The sun is warming the beach as well as the happy feelings I am having inside. If only everyone in the world could find a place like this in their lives, life would be so much better.

Cheers to those who smile as they jump and splash away in the breaking waves of their own Burnett Bay’s. Eric

8/19 Paradise found! The immense sandy space, wind hammered, shore pine, jewel bedecked water, continually crashing waves, radiant sun – soul surrendered to such sights and sounds frees my mind almost enough to “wave” away weighted worries. Gene “guided” me here – another [?] love chapter – the perfect time to know that.

The past is history

The future is a mystery

The now is a gift that’s why it’s called THE PRESENT. Love you Gene! Anne

1999

…“Wake up and live!” Remarkably all those souls who have traveled to this far away place share that special ingredient so crucial to happiness – we love being in Nature – which is part of us as a whole. We must pass on this pleasure to those who are asleep and show them the way – Definitely not to exploit, but to open their hearts and show how to love and respect their mother earth. Accept all that is because that’s all it is. Simple, glorious, and ever changing. Rick 

May 26 I begin this journal with disaster narrowly avoided. The charred marks on the roof around the stove pipe hole are the result of my attempts of warming the place up on this chilly day. Unfortunately, although the top of the pipe seemed tight enough when I assembled it, once heated up it leaned and fell apart. The rest of the pipe leaned heating the roof; I grabbed the pipe with leather gloves, which I am now very glad to have brought on this trip and directed the pipe back out the hole while Doug put the fire out. I’m very sorry for my carelessness; and I’m glad for a the responsible users before me that this cabin still stands. Luckily lessons were learned and the cabin remains intact for you who are reading this. Use CAUTION and think twice about having a fire. Most of all be sure if you do, that things are truly tightly fit and be prepared.

That said, we are Russ and Doug, out for 4 months paddling from Port McNeill to Skagway, Alaska. We have been out 10 days, having taken a leisurely pace through the Broughton Archipelago and now moving northward. Yesterday we came from Shelter Bay. Russ

That fire was a little scary. Please use caution, and have water handy. I can’t tell you all how great is to be able to stay in a place of such great community. I feel very luck to be here, and share reading about all your experiences. Russ and I just began our trip to Skagway, and are still getting in the swing of things. I look forward to all that this regime has to offer as we head north. Doug

… a day’s length blanket of thick fog enveloped us as we rounded Cape Caution and eventually made our way here, to this charmed spot. What a trip its been – so unlike our previous paddles of the mid-coast. Felt like we learned new lessons daily on this one. Would love to have seen the “all-seeing eye’s” view of the time when I sat, blithely searching through food bags for dinner ingredients as two grizz casually strolled by, not 20 feet from me. Only noticed once they were well past me, and as I stood, wide-eyed in disbelief to look at them, they ran off – clearly uninterested in interaction. Their prints in the sand, so close…Hadn’t seen another paddler in the last 14 days – since we started out – until yesterday just after we arrived here, and then through the fog emerged a man who could have been three feet behind us all day and we wouldn’t have known it. Traveling solo (I’m amazed reading through the wonderful logbooks how many among us choose this path!), he’s been out for a month, no tide tables, just his instinct and experience. He was headed for Nakwakto Rapids to catch sight of this wonder – right up close. We gave him some reading material from Sailing Directions, which hopefully will have kept him from harm. What a gift its been arriving here and having the great good fortune to spend a day in the company of so many beautiful spirits. Its been a joy to read the words of those who have come before and to do that here in this sweet magical cabin, built and cared for with such inspiration. I know – I can feel – that I will return here and Burnett Bay, this cabin, this spirit will all still be here for me to explore and discover. Thanks to you all that help maintain this beauty. May this find you all hail, hearty and full of joy as you safely journey through your adventures. Barb

We arrived yesterday from Smith Sound. We rounded the cape in dense fog but calm seas. Our first day in thick fog for the entire trip (started in Bella Bella). When we arrived the fog was still thick and walking on the beach felt like we were walking in a surreal and bizarre yet magical landscape. What a place! We had heard about the cabin from various friends and they all spoke fondly of this little cabin in the woods. I could never figure out what was so special but now I know the secret too. I wish I could spend a week here but we must get back to our lives down south, but I will see this place again and I have faith that it will still be here – the beautiful forest, the animals, the beach, the fog, the surf, and the little cabin by the sea. I left an addition to the library – Homelands: Kayaking the Inside Passage. By Byron Ricks (see 1996 entry). As I am sure Byron will tell you, he found part of himself on this coast and left part of himself as well. It is a strange feeling to feel so connected to a place and a group of people after such a short time ashore. Special place indeed. Steven 

Came here with Ed and Dennis to enlarge and do maintenance on the cabin. Replaced stovepipe, windows. Added a shed extension to the back to create a double bunk on the bottom. Storage under the bunk is now from the outside. Left two more sections of pipe and an elbow for the stove, also some galvanized sheet metal to reinforce the stove, which is burning out. Thanks to everyone who has been helping to keep things up. There’s getting to be a lot of stuff hauled up from the beach left around the cabin and not really useful – please don’t bring any more. The mice in the cabin aren’t bad right now – guess they’re not finding much food dropped. Enjoy! PS. – the door hinges are getting weak – don’t lean on it! Randy

Spent the last week here on the maintenance with His Coastalness. I found the cabin cozy, inspired, and a warm break from a further journey. Please watch your fire usage. This place is fragile in many ways. We saw beautiful kayaking weather, the time here, many whales, a trip to Indian Cove, bear prints, more whales, good surfing, fantastic vistas and more places than I care to recount. Heading south next to Nakwakto, Heard Island, and home to workaday Seattle. I hope your forecasts are light to moderate northwesterlies and that your skies are full of sunshine. Dennis 

(I don’t speak French, and parts weren’t clear. But the spirit is nonetheless infectious):

Joyeux anniverserie (a moi)

Joyeux anniverserie (a moi)

Joyeux Annnniverrrrssairrree

Joyeux anniverserie (a moi)

Joi 30 ans [?] et je

Suis ici…ici avec min amor,

Le mer, la plage, les balines et

Ce petit cabin extraordinaire

(qun sent tres hon!) Bon kayaking,

mis amis, et beaucoups de retournees

Regan, Seattle

A cet adorable petit endroit qui flew bon la nature. Cette longue plage est incroyable et ce petit paradis est enare un endroit protégé de L’homme. Pourvu Qu’il  reste aimi le plus longtemps possible… Xavier, France

It felt like an uphill hike, paddling from Grief Bay yesterday. The whales greeted us as we entered this bay. Mike was two paddle lengths away! It sure is nice to find a sandy beach to land on once in a while. And now this place – luxury! We didn’t fix anything cause nothing was broken. Lets hope it stays that way. Keep yer boats on the water. Steve

Happy Equinox. Stopped in to say hi to the little cabin. Heading south as far as we can get, big storm moving in. Paddled outer coast from Bella Bella down, its been an awesome September. Sad can’t stay on the beach to enjoy. I love reading the notes so I had to stop in to see who’s been here over the last few years since my last visit. Happy paddles, Natasha and Jonny-Hawk.

2000

01 01 2000 HAPPY NEW YEAR The new millennium arrived at Burnett Bay under clear blue skies and brilliant sunshine. Bid mid afternoon (now) the skies are starting to cloud over and the odd shower is starting to drift through from the south. Appears to be a system moving in from that direction as the wind is beginning to increase as well. Today marks the third visit to Burnett Bay for myself since Christmas. Our weather through the holidays has been beautiful, sunny, warm, and no wind. Arrived this morning via 1948 Luscombe T8F. Steve, Port Hardy.

Us and two other groups landed yesterday intending to stay in the cabin. In all my times passing through this beautiful remote beach I have never seen 5 groups (4 kayaker and 1 group dropped off by charter boat) camp on the beach at the same time. Today a research group dropped off three students on the beach who spent the day studying the small island by the beach. Last night about an hour before sunset a grizzly bear was coming up the beach from the small creek to the south of the cabin. When he saw or smelled us, he ran into the woods (be careful walking the trail to the outhouse at night). Mike from the Vancouver group said he found references to this cabin on several web sites while researching this trip. It is interesting noting the prior experiences of other travelers here. While they (?) on the beauty and peaceful feeling this beach offered to them, we concerned ourselves with establishing three separate campsites and trying to respect each group’s privacy. Everywhere we turned around or walked we would bump into someone. Perhaps this is a precursor of things to come as this site becomes more popular. I look forward to coming back to this beach again in the future at a time when I might enjoy the solitude and reinvigoration of the spirit as the paddlers before us experienced in the journals. So long for now from the thriving metropolis of North Beach, Burnett Bay, BC. Ray 

Twenty days out, we circle Cape Caution wide in thick fog, rising and falling on grey swells buffed with blue-edged spangles and at last to Burnett Bay. We know we have landed, we can feel sand under our feet, but we can see nothing of the forest and only 20 feet of beach. And here’s the cabin, now with a double bed and a shed addition, and more journal entries showing how touched everyone is by the community of friends who never met except in the spirit of this place….Wishing everyone snug in their beds at journey’s end. Nan and Don

Ahh, the life of a kayaker -- sitting back on silver-bleached logs sipping a tin-cup of red wine, enjoying the late evening sun on this beautiful beach. It’s a tough life! And flipping through these random moments of fellow kayakers’ journeys and thoughts is a wonderful treat. What a great way to have a conversation over the years! (I particularly enjoyed learning of the troubled history of the cabin stove!) Kim 

I don’t want to leave this place! But its time to do some surfing on the sanding waves of Nakwakto. … mother and calf humpbacks feeing all day, a full moon rising yellow through the trees…I have seen such beauty, but this place is incomparable! This is the third to last day of my 9 week trip. Tailwinds most of the way. Yay! I look forward to meeting all of you at sometime in our journeys. Until then, sunny skies and tailwinds, Colin 

Arrived five days ago to see the cabin again after 15 years…Doug came ashore first, the rest of us followed one at a time when given the signal. Doug provided me with an entertaining string of cartwheels as I waited to enter the surf zone. Some grey whales blessed us with their omnipotent presence. As I write, Doug is doing some extensive repairs to the stove walls and yesterday replaced the lower stovepipe. I spent a few hours on the roof as suggested by Audrey S. – scraping moss and needles off with a pointy wood stick so as not to damage the soggy shingles. Also went into a tidying frenzy on the woodpile and hammered in some upright sticks to let air flow along the cabin wall. Hopefully this was a good idea. There’s one executive decision I’ll discuss with the cabin builder and that is my removing the little rotting bench on outside west wall. It looked to me like it was rotting the wall shingles behind it. I’m sure I’ll regret this if it has some important or nostalgic value. (actually, none of either– Cabin Builder) There used to be another wonderful gazebo-shaped cabin at Swan Bay in the Charlottes. In July this year I discovered it is gone, in addition to another cabin that had a rusty tricycle out front and a huge tree through the roof…the woman who raised three or four children in this cabin now has had the distinction somewhat to the effect of being the leading Winnebago sales person in the US… These are cabins that Parks has removed. They are missed. We who love this place must not let that happen here. Our heart-felt blessing for a wonderful and safe trip to all kayakers who pass here as the adventure and spirit of this place lives on. Susan and Doug

8/31 Gunvor, Annie, Kristen and I met up with Randy, Ed, Dennis, and Jeryl in Shearwater almost two weeks ago. The flotilla of 8 was colorful and fun. What terrific traveling companions. Our traditional Kayak Kocktail Hour began our first night out and continued nearly every night – even after the liquor ran out. But its been 2 weeks of nearly constant rain. I’d heard so much about this beach and the cabin that it had become a paradise in my mind. I was so thrilled to be escorted by grey whales –then to come around the corner to see the sun shining on the south shore – this really is paradise. I hope to come back one day. Sue, Snohomish, WA

The Burnett Bay Song Book

Sung to “West Texas town of El Paso”:

Down in the southwestern end of Compania

I fell in love with a beautiful seal.

Her eyes were deeper than any deep ocean

Her fur the softest I ever did feel.

(more to come)

Sung to “Bringing In The Sheaves”:

Hauling shit around

Hauling shit around

We will go kayaking 

Hauling shit around

When the morning comes

And its time to break down camp

We wish we had a dolly

We’d roll it down a ramp

We open up the hatches

And we give it all a shove

We do it every morning

For its kayaking we love.

Now we found a new home

We’ll stay for just one night

The beach it is deserted

Everything is right

As we begin unpacking

It begins to rain

And we recall why hauling sh…

Is really such a pain.

Now the sun is shining

The sky it is so blue

We’re hanging on a sunny beach

There’s nothing else to do

All our gear is laid out

In hopes that it’ll dry

Because we know tomorrow 

We’ll give it another try.

10 Sept I’m here too on a trip down from Prince Rupert to Port Hardy. I guess I’ve been about a week or so behind your group, Randy. I’d love to have met you and thanked you personally for this cabin and its free use to other paddlers. I’ve been paddling alone since Princess Royal, when my friends went thru Myers Passage to Klemtu and I came on down Higgins Passage and through Bella Bella and on down. Its been wonderful; I notice a lot of entries are a bit sad now, for Port Hardy is not so far away, and I still don’t want the trip to end either. The weather’s been varied, but today at the cabin was glorious and its wonderful sitting here by candle light writing and checking the charts. This log is a wonderful idea, I see names I’m familiar with and people I know – a community of paddlers united by the contact through the cabin. Thank you again for it must be a considerable effort to maintain it so well. Penny, Vancouver

Lots a whales, eh?

2001

Jan 1 Happy New Year

Our annual new year flight up to the Beach

Great day, real big surf! And windy.

Bill Velie, Port McNeill

April 1

2 Aircraft, half sunny low clouds.

No fooling…

Bill Velie

May 20 Back again after four years. Its so heartening to see the spirit of place is so strong for those who visit. On our way back to Port Hardy from Bella Bella. Epic rain and wind all the way down but today is light NW with sun. Gracias a la Vida. Tim

May 20 It is indeed a pleasure to encounter such a magical place. We’ve laid over on the S end of the beach and enjoyed our best weather since leaving Bella Bella, and of course the surf. Que bien! Winthrop

May 20 Amazing! 2 months ago I was let to a place like this somewhere in Baja Mexico. When I arrived there I though I’d never find another like it. And here I am! Amazing! Great to see the respect and care that people show one another. Thank you, Thank you! Alberto, Costa Rica

July 6 We are on a relaxing, lazy-paced paddling trip from Smith Sound to Shelter Bay. Burnett Bay is as lovely as promised. It has been nice to get in out of the rain and have our lunch in this cabin during our walk down the beach. Ruth, Vancouver and Adam, Canterbury UK

July 10 Canoe group Burnett Bay to Alert Bay with 6 other. A heavenly spot. Found this cabin in May 97 on route to Prince Rupert by northwest canoe 31’ [?] Great to be back. Chris and Barbara

Aug 3-7 85 days of wandering from Pt McNeill north to Prince Rupert and back. A short 5 day break on a secluded beach before returning to a populated world. A bit of surfing, wood to burn, beaches to roam, and journals to read. A wet year to wander the coast but one of unforgettable experiences. 20 dolphins jumping out of the water in Johnstone Strait, getting caught in a pod of 6 killer whales in a channel near Bella Coola, the islet dotted paddling of Queens Sound and Calamity Bay, sea otters of the Estevan Group, tossing rocks in a fluorescent tide in the middle of the night, surfing into Burnett Bay, alongside a feeding Grey, and discovering this cabin and its journals. My third visit to this beach but the first to this cabin. Thanks to the SKA people Anne, Heather and Dona for letting me know of its existence and a fine evening of conversation around a rather small fire. Steve If you see a buoy on the beach be sure to hang it from a tree to mark a trail or water!

Aug 8-11 Arrived here on the morning of Aug 8 paddling from our last camp at Indian Cove, Day 11 of our 18 day trip from McLaughlin Bay to Port Hardy. Three people camping here when we landed, and another party of three at the south end of the beach. We have enjoyed our trip so far in spite of 7 days (consecutive) of rain from Triquet Island to Cranstown Point.

The weather here has been foggy in the morning with sunshine in the afternoon – but no rain! We have all enjoyed this beautiful place; walking the beach, exploring the tide pools and photographing the scenery. This morning we repaired and reinforced the cabin door, cleaned the roof, and cut back the salal along the trails; a small contribution to the cabin that many find so useful.

Tomorrow we continue our journey with a planned camp at Shelter Bay.

For those not so familiar with this beach there is a freshwater lagoon at the south end of the beach – very suitable for a bath! If you are interested!! Beautiful in the mist, too.

 Paula and Jiry - Calgary Alta, Jacqueline and Ton - Lions Bay, BC, Ann - Richmond, BC, Earl - Port Moody, BC, Robert – Vancouver. All of SKABC

10 Aug This bay offers many gifts: gray whales spouting in the bay – one showed its flukes just 1 ½ kayak lengths from Jiri’s bow as we came in; wolf tracks all along the beach – a pair walking side by side, scratching in the sand by a log where the male marked his territory; huge bear tracks by the lagoon, and a huge bear by the creek west of the cabin; deer tracks of a doe and a tiny fawn. Our own tracks trample the beach, obliterating those of the animals. We move on tomorrow, leaving the wind and tide to erase the signs of our passing. Letting the rightful owners of this beach back onto their domain.

I read in the log the musings of several people I know and feel as though they have joined me here on this beach – Barb and Steve, Willie, Penny and others. I feel settled in here and am sad to be departing tomorrow, not having sampled this place in all her seasons and moods, barely a [?] I want to get to truly know. R

Sept 3 A great walk on the beach… Bill Velie, Port McNeill

Sept 11 After a sunny sky, flat calm arrival from Skull Cove, the weather reversed by dawn today – a perfect small rain day walk up to the cabin from our tarped site at the south end of the bay. From here the rapids and possibly Belize Inlet before Shelter Bay. Joel Rogers, Glen Sims, Galen Tritt and Elliot Marks, Seattle.

2002

Feb 23 Just an excellent day, no wind, hot sunshine and a great walk with the dogs Bennie and Buddy. I’ll bet they will sleep good tonight. Going to Victoria tomorrow to see Bert. When I came in to land saw a wolf, really black and big, and he had sharp teeth too. (Again on March 7 , April 3, and May 19)  Bill Velie, Port McNeill

April 25 Two Kiwi kayakers traveling from Victoria to Juneau and back. We, those are the destinations but it is the journey that is most important. Here at Burnett Bay we have started to find the true wilderness we were seeking (too early for kayak/heli tours). Although the last week has had strong NWerly and has hampered our progress, we were unable to resist the charms of Burnett Bay and spent a wonderful two days enjoying the sun, exploring and trying to interpret the animal tracks in the sand; deer, wolf and what appeared to be cougar tracks following one set of deer tracks. Reading through the journals reveals a who’s who of sea kayakers, some of whom have written books that inspired our trip – Audrey Sutherland, Byran Ricks, and Randy Washburne. Thanks for this treasure in the woods. Garth

6/12-19 Stayed a week to re-roof front half of cabin. Had intended to do all of it but ran out of time and energy. Added a skylight and made a cover for it to protect it from UV and falling branches – please put it on carefully when you leave. Also brought up new stove. Its light-duty metal and probably won’t last too long. Left the old one in place since it still seems serviceable. Also brought up three lengths of 3” pipe, which won’t fit these stoves without an adapter. My mistake. But there are two spare lengths of 4” behind and under the cabin.

Randy Washburne

PS – I didn’t get to filling the spaces at the top of the walls under the new roof. If you have a saw and are inclined, please close them up and the cabin will heat much better. Nails in the box under the window.

July 9 Thank you for providing us with this little spot to visit. Incredible beach. Am here with a film crew filming the Wave Dancer canoe [?] Janet, North Vancouver.

July 12 Here for a couple of nights on a kayak trip from Prince Rupert to Victoria (via Principe and Laredo Channels, detour to Fjordlands RA, and outer coast of Vancouver Island). Lots of time with three months to do it – we’re 6 weeks out. This beach is a trip highlight; the cabin and the journals are inspiring, particularly when I read of how many people have enjoyed similar trips, inspired by adventure and a love of the outdoors to make time for a long trip or two [?].

With a film crew camped down the beach and a helicopter that buzzed us at dinnertime, there’s little feeling of remoteness. But I guess a place like this can’t stay a secret (although I didn’t know it existed until today).

Hello to Eric Abulnar (Aug 98 entry), a fellow Lakehead Outdoor Rec. grad. 

What this place needs is a good pen, so I’ll leave one, as my contribution.

Our trip is being chronicled in the Times-Colony of Victoria. Its tempting to mention this place, and tempting not to mention this place. Such is the paradox of wilderness. It should be enjoyed by everyone, but not all at once. The great thing about here is that its still as hard to get to as it ever was, for those of us who don’t fly. Judging from the last decade of journal entries, things aren’t changing too fast. Its 2002 and I’m still free to sit here on my own mile of beach and wonder what the future will bring. Thanks to RW and all,

PS Two wolves  - one brown one grey – trotted past the campsite on the beach this morning and bounded away when they saw me.

One osprey.

Our first hazeless sunset under perfectly clear skies, sliver of moon.

“Give me things and things and no more thoughts.” Robinson Jeffers

“One speaks of things when one means the spirit, but how is the spirit to be pictured otherwise.” Howard

White, Raincoast Chronicles

“One light is left us: the beauty of things, not men; the immense beauty of the world, not the human world.

Look – and without imagination, desire nor dream – directly at the mountains and the sea.” Robinson Jeffers

 Tim, Victoria

July 20 Nine of us arrived by 37’ Montreal Native canoe. What a lovely surprise to find your cabin in such a wonderful spot. Chris, Barbara, Ian, Breda, Harne, Paul, Suzanna, Fred, and Lonnette.

July 27-29 We spent two peaceful days on the beach, in the bay, and at this cabin. Calm seas prevailed. Eagles, osprey, loons, and falcons entertained us. Impromptu beach volleyball likely entertained all wildlife looking on as 4 guys got sandy and sweaty. 

We left some beach art – this ink print of a black rock fish that hangs on the wall. Jim spearheaded the project as we made prints of ling cod and greenling as well. Capp made the cedar frame.

On to Skull Cove and then Port Hardy tomorrow. Capp – Blaine WA, Jim – Duvall WA, Ronald and Steve – Redmond, WA

Aug 14 This place makes me think; therefore I am. I am privileged to visit this glorious area. Gordon, Brockville, Ontario

Aug 14 We are here on our honeymoon; a long way from home (thank goodness!) Here with Tofino Expeditions for a week of kayaking, peacefulness and beauty. A great way to kick off the next 50 years of togetherness. Jamie and Pete, NY, NY

Aug 14 I can’t think of a better place to be right now than here at Burnett Bay. Jennifer, Poulsbo WA

Sept 23 Arrived here last night from Egg Is. Paddled through the fog with only 50 m visibility. It that wasn’t scary enough, gray whales decided to breach within 10-15 m of us on four different occasions. 

Has been five months since we were last here. We’re two Kiwi kayakers (brothers). We’ve been up to Juneau via the inside waters, across to Glacier Bay via Tenakee Hotsprings, then we’ve worked our way down the outer coast to here. Next step is to Port Hardy and then the west coast of Vancouver Island to finish at our starting point – Victoria.

Trip highlights or must see areas for fellow kayakers – Le Conte Bay, Endicott Arm and Fords Terror, Glacier Bay (McBride and Johns Hopkins glaciers), outside coast of Yakobi, Chichagof, and Baronof Islands (make sure you stop at White Sulfur Hotsprings), and outside coast from Prince Rupert to here.

Once again we’d like to give our thanks to Randy Washburne for providing us with this gem of a cabin. On an extended trip cabins like this are such a luxury. It gives you a chance to dry out and your tent and wet weather gear get a much deserved break and chance to also dry. Some trip photos should be posted on http://www.cankiwiskayak.co.nz/index.htm Kevin and Garth

2003

Jan 12 Just flew in for a walk on the beach. Beautiful day sunny and hot – no wind. Brenda’s first time to the cabin. Lots of great drift wood and shells on the beach. Bill Velie, Port McNeill

April 21 Just flew in for a walk on the beach, just a great sunny day. It looks like a bear has busted the plastic windows and chewed the yellow notebook, its all wet so I’ll leave it on the bunk to dry. The next time I come up here I’ll bring plastic for the windows. I would say the stove is on its last legs. Maybe some welder with a machine shop could be talked into building a new stove out of 3/16” metal that would last longer. I believe the fellow flies a Blue and white 172 – his name could be Carl. I’ll fix the windows maybe safety glass would be better than plastic. Bill Velie, Port McNeill

April 27 Carl was here and read the last entry and agreed to build a new stove. We’ve seen wolf tracks on the beach. Also May 6. Bill Velie

June 1 Just a quick stop back again on my way from Rupert. 25 days down. Stared with 3 ppl – somehow lost 2 in Bella Bella and continued on my own. The outside of Calvert was both challenging and rewarding. Lots of glass balls!! Ran into John M up north, AKA Haddington John. He’s feeling rich these days – CPP is paying him more than he’s ever made. He’s the hermit that built the cabin at the lagoon at the other end. He told me lots of stories – like surfing his 20 ft open dory into the bay, rounding the Charlottes in the same boat, etc. He’s got a place up on Principe Channel and is look for a wife. Any takers? Until next time. Don, Homeless, BC I fixed the windows, but I’m both clumsy and unskilled. Sorry about the shitty job.

June 6 Camped at the other end of the beach. Paddling from [?] Bay, thru Broughton, up coast on [?] to here. Always wanted to see the place and its well worthwhile. Great sunny day. Here for a couple of days, then back via Port Hardy and to catch the ferry to Bella Bella. Here for the journey, not the miles. Rod, Terrace, BC

June 9 – Still here!! Thanks, wind for keeping me ashore to explore north and south on foot.

June 18 Anchored off the beach in our 37’ sloop to comb the beach on our way north. A charming spot in the sunshine and dead calm. Paul, Ray, Ed, SV “Domino”, Comox, BC

June 26 We are a class of 9 students and 2 instructors from the National Outdoor Leadership School. We’ve been out 21 days and have 7 more scheduled. Left Bella Bella June 8, moving from island to island, shore to shore. By the grace of God we have been allowed to glimpse paradise. Nice cabin. Keep on paddling. Willie, Bay City, TX

June 26 Continued from previous entry, I am one of those fortunate students. Although I’m a mere 20 and lack the experience of those in previous entries, I’d like to say that finding this cabin has truly opened many doors in my stifled New England mind. Thanks for the good reading, Randy. (Also Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was getting rather drab…Damn the books that everyone tells you to read). Thanks for the cabin and the spawning of more ideas in a youthful mind. Will, Wilton, CT

June 28 My dad and I flew in this afternoon, he wanted to show me this special beach. Its very private and beautiful! Hope to come back soon for some more fresh air! Lisa and Carl

July 17-18 We are touring (kayaking) in Central Coast and now heading south. Five weeks of pristine waters, lots of wild life – whales, eagles, even two deer in our camp!  We find BC and especially the Central Coast area very special and plan to be coming back – this is our third time. You are welcome to our home waters, ie the Baltic Sea! Riika and Mikto, Helsinki, Finland www.balticpaddlers.com/riikka.jaakkola@iki.fi

July 27 It is a gorgeous evening with a brisk wind making the beach look like the Sahara Desert. A yellow plane is parked next to the big rocks in front. 4 of the more than 50 visitors to the beach this weekend. Yes, it seems like Grand Central Station. 30 Brits visited for lunch yesterday and a party of 11 is camped at the south end of the beach.

Jim and I tried to catch a salmon or halibut at the point, but we had to settle for a couple of nice ling cod, which fed us nicely. We enjoyed a few games of beach golf and have donated two clubs and 4 golf balls for others to enjoy. The rules are simple – merely pick out an object in the distance, usually a prominent log or rock, and count the strokes to hit it. Add creativity by inventing doglegs (eg, “go to the right side of that patch of kelp and then back to hit the white log on the left.”) Green fees are zero and there is no waiting for golfers in front of you. We did have a plane land in the middle of the course yesterday though. Enjoy a try at it; you don’t have to be any good to get some exercise and some laughs.

We are off for Skull Cove tomorrow, then home (Seattle area) on Tuesday. This is our 3rd year here, and it is as lovely as ever. Thoughts of the coast keep us going through the winters. Steve and Jim

July 31 Kayaking from Indian Cove to Port Hardy [?] to different wonderful places. Will have golf tournament today. Thank you to those who supplied club and balls! Wonderful whale watching. Shaun, Jean, Diane [?]

Aug 2 The Savage family and our pilot Peter stopped here for the afternoon. We are on the first day of our helicopter adventure from Nimmo Bay – this beach was a great part of it! Savages, Shaverton, PA

Aug 4 After a full year away from home working as a teaching assistant in White Rock, BC it is time for this chapter of my life to end. At 19 I am going home to the UK in 12 days and continuing my education. Wow what a year. This place has left me with some remarkable memories. [?], Yorkshire, UK

For such a wild “remote” spot it sure is busy – helicopters buzzing the beach, ridiculous commercial groups of 17 kayakers, hordes of salmon fisherman, a lovely couple who flew in here in this crazy 1947 amphibious contraption,

and finally, vs. what a trip – finally realizing a dream to paddle these incredible waters. We are now realizing why exactly our Klepper kayak was free – a generous gift with the not-so-cool spontaneous collapsibility feature…We paddle, we bail, we repair, we love it!  Been to a few secret shacks in the hills and beaches, but this is one of the funkiest! Around the cape when the wind lets us! Dave, Kelly and Lucy [dog?]

May the wind always be at our backside not from it! PS Crossing paths never ceases to amaze me…its been a pleasure to read of tales and adventures from these books… its been a real treat to read from those tales of people we know… a small world…maybe…a West Coast Mecca! KC

2004

July 16 Here for a couple of days on trip from Bella Bella to Pt Hardy via Goose Group and Calvert. Mixed bag of weather through entire trip. Lots of whales and great paddling. Rod and Ian, Terrace, BC

July 20 After being flooded out from the bottom up by surprise streams formed by Monsoon type rains, we stayed in the cabin to dry out. We were in an 1840’s miners tent with an awning. A great thanks to the builder of this cabin and those who have left it intact. Wendy and Dennis

Aug 3 Starting at Sea Otter Cone, south of Bella Bella, we stopped in at the N end of Calvert Island. Paddled down the wonderland of Fury Island, then to Table Island – a jewel in the coastal islands. Presently we’re camped at the south end of Burnett Bay. We walked the length of the beach to discover this terrific cabin. This bay is a heart-stopper. Breathtaking beauty. Doug, Rochelle, Julia, [?]

Aug 5 The most amazing vista walking up the beach. Headed up from Port Hardy to Shelter Bay then on to Burnett Bay. We will be leaving tomorrow – hard to leave. Bruce and Marge, Smiths Falls, Ontario

Aug 5 The McKinstry’s tentacles reach to Burnett Bay. Our first kayak experience on the west coast. Our appetite has been whetted. To all those that follow, remember our natural world at all times and treat with respect. These areas are becoming scarcer with time. Brenda and Brian, Calgary, Alberta

8-11 Paddling from Port Hardy, we’re camping in the bay for a couple of nights and found your beautiful cabin. We’ve seen many whales in the bay for the past 3 days. Julie and Brandon

2005

Jan 3 First flight up here this year. Great day, a little frosty. Also Feb 20 Bill Velie

Feb 20 First flight this year to the beach. Carl Nissen

March 23 Still returning to this incredible place from 85 on. Storm winds today. Trying out new kayaks. Thanks cabin builder! Doug Simpson (Feathercraft) and Dan Elliot 

PS Put in the mylar windows 2 years ago. They are lasting well.

May 9 Kayak party of 4, landed yesterday at the south end of the beach. Graham and Bob traveling from Horseshoe Bay to Prince Rupert with Chris and Eliza traveling from Port McNeill to Bella Bella. It rained a little last night but not much wind. We pulled our boats right into the salal last night since the surf and 15 foot tide wanted to take them for a ride. Nice little cabin here, next time I’ll sleep in here. I wish safe travel to those who come through here in future, and sanity to those who come to places like this to escape the harsh hypocrisy of the world.

June 30 Landed on the beach with the 140, really nice day, no wind, the smoke from the fire going straight up! [?], Port Hardy

Sept 8 Camped out for a week at the south end nook. Beautiful beach and sunny skies (mostly)… [?]

Sept 14 Solo by kayak from Namu to the outside of Calvert Island. I heard about this cabin from my friend Kim – see Aug 14 2000 entry. What a trip! High points – surviving surf on outside of Calvert Island ( camped smack in the middle), despite losing everything off my deck – have been searching for a replacement water bottle ever since. Grizzly cubs (at a distance)! 1 hour paddling with the feeding frenzy of 3 humpback whales, 50-100 dolphins, and several hundred sea birds – ever been escorted en route by a pod of dolphins (porpoises?)? I was actually afraid at one point that the barnacled tail of one of those 3 was going to brush me on the re-entry, after a giant leap out of the water after thousands of small fish fleeing for their lives! Cape Caution is among the loveliest or areas. Protect it! Love it! Respect it. A certain low point is the sheer number of planes flying overhead – at least 1-2 per hour, even in the middle of September.

May the winds take you where you need to be. Jeff, Chilliwack, BC

A great many thanks to the cabin community for upkeep and vigilance.

Dec 26 A beautiful [?] day visit to the beach! Weather very windy, big high rollers coming in, just roaring, crashing, a sight to see. Cabin still in pretty good shape. With best to whoever visits the cabin for 2006. Bill Velie

2006

May 21 Great sunny windy day. Hot. Perfect beach weather. Flew up with Loraine her first time up here. The beach is real clean. Bill Velie

June 10 We’re three days into a trip from Port Hardy to Bella Bella. There’s been a little bit of everything so far – sun, wind, fog. We even capsized close to the Millar Group in Ripple Passage on the crossing to the mainland, which was a bit of a shock for the first day. This is a fantastic beach, reminiscent of some other favourites among us including Carmanch and Cow Bay on Flores Island. Fortunately (perhaps), we seem to be the only ones here, which seems like it might be atypical if we were here a month later. It is very difficult to imagine plans and helicopters and gaggles of visitors right now. We are about to “tuck in”( for Bill our token Brit) to some chocolate and whiskey, now that dinner is done. Safe paddling…Neil, Bill, Gord, and  Josh

June 10 Great to be out with a good group of friends and to arrive safe and sound in such a beautiful place. Reminds me a lot of Cow Bay on Flores Island. Inspiring to see so many others on their own (on sometimes extended) journeys…these June trips of ours are going to become a ritual that should last through our 20’s, 30s…80s? Always feel at home out here. Great to see Neil and Martin’s entry. Safe seas to all who follow. Gord

June 20 Queen Charlotte Sound flat calm. Crew of Oliver Clark needed a walk on Burnett Bay beach. Jed, Steve, Kim, Elizabeth, Liz, and Jill

June 27 Greetings from Marc and [?]. Using the gorgeous amenities for supreme relaxation! Two solo kayakers on our way from Bella Bella to Port Hardy in 30 days. 4 days here. Thanks Randy! We tidied up…

July 3 I’m a solo kayaker on my way from Prince Rupert to Port Hardy via the outside route. Just stumbled across this place. Fantastic! Thanks a million! Jon

July 15 Stayed three days. Saw 2 wolf cubs with their mother on the beach when I came in – and bear tracks in front of the campsite. What a beautiful day – calm ocean, no wind, great sunset. Greetings – fellow kindred kayak spirits. Denise, Vancouver. PS did you know the First Nation name for this beach is “Place to Dance on the Beach”?

PS took out a bit of garbage – old cans. Left a working lighter and some dry kindling. Safe travels. Denise

Aug 1 I’ve finally arrived here. After reading Don Webster’s story from June/May of 2003 I am reminded of our trip where I ultimately met my wife. As we lost a tooth and gained our first child, Don continued on from Bella Bella to reach Port Hardy.

This trip we arrive as a group of 7 on a guided trip with Kingfisher Adventures. [?] and his Dad, Emi, Mark, Joyce, and Elizabeth. We head back to Hardy from where we started. Paddled from Shelter Bay yesterday. Calm seas and very un-central coast like. Brushed roof, left some origami, swept up a little. Scraped moss. Chris

Aug 1 Well after having been turned back by weather and a lack of time, it is such a gift to have made it by kayak this year. We were blessed with ideal conditions on the way up. Saw some wolf and grizzly tracks on the beach as well as a grey whale in the bay. Thank you for such a wonderfully well kept cabin. In the spirit of this cabin we put our group to work to help in a bit of cleaning. Best wishes to those who follow. Jill

Aug 1 So blessed to be on this trip with my son. This is such a beautiful example of creative architecture! Also very good ideas for those of us who dream of leaving a smaller footprint. Roger

Aug 2 Traveling by kayak from the beach around the corner of Wilke Point to Port Hardy. This is my third trip here (1992 and 1998) and everything looks as great as ever. Mostly sunny days with wind. Thanks to everyone for taking such good care of this cabin. Steve, Justine, Sharon, Owen, Margaret, David, and Cheryl

Aug 3 Ryan and Scott were here. Very neat and clean.

Aug 11 Svenja, Jen, Leonard and Jay. Neat place! We’re doing research on grey whales in the area “Coastal Ecosystems Research Foundation”. We’re based in Skull Cove on Bramham Island about five miles south of here. We’re there from June-mid Sept every year – come visit! Very interesting place here , fantastic cabin and great logbooks!

Aug 14 Its amazing being here 4500 miles from home when my brother has been sat in exactly the same place three years ago. See 4/18/03 (Kip). He came back home to Yorkshire England with great tales of his year in Canada, so that’s why I’m here. I am going to surprise him with an exact copy of his picture in this hut, the only difference being I will be sat in it.

A great paddling trip in a 42’ canoe from Bella Bella to Port McNeill with some extremely close (sometimes too close) whale experiences!

It’s great this place isn’t very accessible otherwise it would be busy!

I am hoping I cam bring my parents to this place…then we will be looking for this entry. Mike, Bedale, Yorkshire, England

Aug 14 Loved being here. Left Bella Bella Aug 4 in our 42 ft Spirit Dancer canoe scheduled for UK circumnavigation 2008/2009. http://www.spiritdancercanoejourneys.ca/#ad-image-1

Visited Codville Lagoon, Sager Lake, Namu, Open Bight, Blunden Bay, Burnett bay. Finish at Shelter Bay. Spirit Dancer traveled the Alaska, BC Coast, May-August 2004 105 days. Our canoe returns each season for another great journey. The BC coast, a jewel like nothing else truly spectacular.

Love to all that enjoy these treasures. Barbara, Chris, Mike, Theron, Steve, Liz, Phil, Elle.

A Tuesday in August, 2006 At least I think its 2006. I washed ashore here after being lost at sea for many months in a Mongolian lake yurt. This inverted tribal tent when stiffened with yak bones becomes a remarkably seaworthy craft. For years I have speculated that Mongolian outcast tribesmen fleeing persecution from the west escaped with their yurts and yaks to find freedom and peace in Canada (although they named this place “Yot”). It wasn’t easy and these brave people must have endured intense storms, wild seas, and silly [?] company. They brought no food, but gourds filled with their staple, yogurt. I was determined to prove to the world that the Mongolians discovered Canada long before anyone else. It is a very long but thrilling story and one that could not have been written had I not brought a 7-iron along which it turns out is just the right club selection for beating off humpback whales. But I must go now before the sun goes down as I am down to my last tub of Dannon™ yogurt. I feel guilty about the sponsorship thing, but without yurts, yaks, and yogurt, I never would have found “Yot”. Thor, Mongolia, Colorado

The sound of the waves the connection with life. The force of it and the source of it. Places like these on earth allow more easily for humanity to connect to the source within. Drop all thoughts, all mindsets, and feel the sand grains beneath our toes, the wind in our hair to blow away the old patterns, the sun to enliven and give us  energy as it does the world.

We will see, feel hear the quieter, most peaceful of all [?] within the year. Luan.

Aug 19 Salimos del camp y nos trajeron a Canada y nos quedemose en Nimmo Bay. Today we met this beach it was lots of fun we flew a kite, we are 7 people and we wrote on the sand lots of things and our names too. Capriles, Daniela

Finally came here with my fiancée, whom I’ve been longing to bring here for so very long. These places are pure magic. Love you Tiffy. M, Port Hardy

Aug 20 My hands are so cold I can barely write but hey! Live is amazing! My guy and I leapt off our boat in a nearby bay and swam ashore. He forgot his sunglasses so it was double the trip for him. Flippin cold even in August. But man do I feel alive! Hope that if I ever see any of you on the street that I will give you a big smile and vis versa. Keep shinin’, Toff

Sept 6 Port Hardy to Rivers Inlet. Fog and clearing in afternoon, Mod NW pm, small surf. Let the sun keep shining! Al, Marty, Bob, Doug, David, Jerry, and Al.

Sept 16 Out for a joyride [drawing of a plane] on a sunny Saturday, first time here, passed by many times but never had time to stop. Awesome. We live in paradise. Tom, Don, Ryan

Sept 25 We are on our way south to Port McNeill from Bella Bella , kayaking. We stopped here for lunch and stayed 2 nights because the fog rolled in. How lucky we were to be encouraged to explore this beautiful beach! We made delicious salal berry crumble both nights for desert. Thank you to all of you who have contributed to this wonderful cabin and to keeping this inspiring journal alive! Sarah, Sarah, and Leah

2007

Jan 13 Just a great day to be up at the beach. Bill Velie

Jan 13 Just flew in with my mom and dad and my daughter Rose to take in the sun, sand, and sea. The waves are rolling, the air is warm, and the smell of fresh cedar from the storm that has crashed the logs against the shoreline, fills the air. There is still snow on the logs but at this point everything seems to be in good shape. Nature has a fine way of doing just that. Must carry on to see more of the splender. Tracy

April 29 Just put new tires on the plane, came to the beach to try them out. Beautiful day, no wind, sunny, brought friend Simon out, moose sausage over the fire for dinner! Dean

May 5 Came out from Y2T for a few hours – bed weather moving in soon. Nice place! Simon and Shelly

May 28-June 6 Back for another round of cabin maintenance, probably the last for a while. Ed and Sue Putnam accompanied Gunvor and me, and Ed was a huge help in getting everything done. First we ripped off the east side of the roof, which was totally rotten (it lasted 22 years). We reinforced the rafters and put on new shakes. This year we found an exceptionally good cedar log on the beach that made very good smooth shakes. They were so good and easy to make that we also added a third layer over the mediocre ones I put on in 2002. We also ripped out the shoddy skylight I put in (thanks to Doug Simpson and Bill Velie for replacing the visqueen with mylar. The new skylight is made from Lexan polycarbonate so it should be strong enough that it won’t need covering. 

Since the shakes were so easy to make, we made a bunch of extras that can be used in case of damage or leaks. There aren’t many small nails left, but probably enough for small repairs.

I also brought in a new stove, the seventh I think in 22 years. This one is the flimsiest of all so it will need a replacement soon. Bill Velie’s idea of a welded one would be very nice, or a stainless one even better! Anyhow, due to a miscalculation in putting up the new rafters we had to put the pipe hole closer to the wall than we would have liked. I insulated it with aluminum flashing, but please keep a small fire and don’t burn plastic trash – it gets too hot. 

In spite of all the attention to construction we still found time to appreciate being at a place that is still as magical as ever.

I also finished photographing these journals and will transcribe many of them to put up on my web site. See washburnemarine.com and click on the link for “My Stories” (I’ll probably change this but you’ll find it.) You can contact me at randy@washburnemarine.com. There are also chapters about building this and other cabins, and trips here and there. More to finish if I get feedback that anyone is reading them.

Best regards to all of you and fair winds in your travels. And thanks for your help in keeping this place alive. Randy Washburne

PS The toilet is getting full (not bad for 12 years…) Gunvor stirred it with a stick to spread it out (what fun!) and we poured in fresh water and cedar shavings in hope of improving composting.

June 5 Still a city-slicker, I have enjoyed another week at Burnett Bay; sitting on the beach contemplating life “what may fulfill human needs”, working on my latest knitting project and reading, some from the little library here and I left 2 additional books. I always enjoy reading the stories of other paddlers and for meeting you on the beach. I am an infrequent traveler in these waters and for that reason maybe, enjoy every day and soon forget the struggles. 

I took notice of the earlier (7/16/06) traveler who noticed the First Nations name for this beach and danced around the beach fire one evening in honor of all who have traveled here before. Gunvor

June 6 This is the third time I have visited the Bay. Each time I come here I appreciate it more and more – I find new places to explore and new tidepools to visit. I find my experience very settling. I can shake off the thoughts of stress of the city and the everyday work thoughts. I find it very comforting to know that I can paddle here under my own power and be very comfortable with the simple things.

Making Shakes

The surf is crashing,

The saw is cutting through. 

Whoosha, Whoosha!

The air has a tang of salt and cedar,

The round falls. 

The froe comes out, 

The cudgel is found.

Froe in place. Bang!

With the cudgel.

Prying the first shake off,

Small cracks, then Clap!

The shake is off.

Ed

June 6 Two more verses for “Hauling Shit Around” (see 8-31-2000):

Now the day is over 

And the paddlings at an end

We found the perfect camp site

To share with all our friends

Cocktail hour draws near and there’s hors’d’ourves

by the pound.

But first we have to go and haul that shit around!

What a great place to spend our 26th anniversary. We’ve been here 8 beautiful days and now we sit and wait for the wind to die so we can head back down to Port Hardy. Sue

Thanks to Tom H and Roger L for recording these entries:

July 4 We stopped in with the kids for a picnic.  The new roof and skylight are fantastic! Bruce, Sharon, Sam, Fiona & Olivia

July 7 --- Day 42 I've taken two luxurious layover days at this wonderful cabin, trying to get ready to round Cape Caution.  I'm scared.  But if the forecast and actual conditions are OK, tomorrow I will launch.  I'm on day 42 of 120, Seattle-Skagway, so I theoretically could hang out at the cabin a lot longer if need be.  We'll see. Deb in Goldie

July 31 We are staying at the south end of the beach for two nights.  Beautiful weather, sun and swell.  Out here having lunch on our rest day.  Returning south tomorrow.  What a wonderful cabin for all who pass by. With Respect, Ellery

Part of same group.  Unexpected surprise to see such comfort in the forest.  Great cabin!  Don't sell any more plots! Denise

July 31 Made it again to this beautiful beach. Such a magical place. Wolf tracks all over the beach. Weather has been great til now.  Thank you to all those who repaired the cabin this year.  Hope to do so myself in the coming years.  Best of luck to those who follow. Sincerely, Joel

(Thanks to Tom H. for transcribing the following entries)

August 3 All in all, I've spent over 10 days here, including my last visit a few weeks ago, and except for some eroded footprints in the sand I haven't seen another soul.  The only improvement on this experience would have been a bottle (or two) of properly chilled wine, or a decent companion.  Maybe next time I come I'll bring someone, maybe not, however there definitely will be a next time.  I'll leave here, but the memories of my stay will sill remain with me forever. Goodbye funky cabin. Tom H.

August 7 Wow!  I feel like I'm signing my name on a piece of art.  I heard about this cabin nearly two months ago while hiking the Misty Fjords National Monument, south-east Alaska.  Actually the fellow who marked this location, very accurately I might add, on my chart was one of the co-founders of "Klutz" books!  So, since then I've meandered and socialized my way here in a Canadian 'Current Designs Andromeda' sea kayak I named "Intuition".  This is my second solo kayak expedition and I plan to reach Olympia in about three weeks (depending on the party atmosphere in places I visit!).  Last summer I made record time living spiritually and efficiently kayaking from Skagway to Ketchikan.  This year I bleached my hair white, shave regularly, smoke weed nearly every day, drink lots of beer with the natives and have casual sex with stellar babes.  I also did not pack a tent, though I have not had to properly camp since the top of Grenville Channel.  Communities, cruisers and cabins have been nicely spaced to accompany me for the rest.  Today I paddled past Cape Caution --- the scariest part of this adventure.  The day was nice and I could just about touch the coast of the cape!  Being cocky, I thought I would tie my kayak off to my paddle (jammed in the rocks) in a nearby small alcove, and rock climb and leap to the light and find a rock or something to keep as an artifact of proof that things aren't always as scary as old bully men lecture and warn you about.  I found an eagle's feather at the base of the light.  The only rocks were those used in the concrete foundation. I climbed to the light and took photos.  I raced back to my kayak --- half expecting to see it out to sea on my way back, but it was still there!  Only upside down --- I nimbly gazelled down the final cliff face, chuckling as I do at misfortunate events.  The tide had come further in the swell was rougher than when I left.  With trouble, I flipped upright my fully loaded kayak and saw that I'd lost my GPS!  I searched through the surf but was getting battered --- I rescued my bear spray floating past like a rodeo cowboy, mounted my aquarium hatch, legs out, and back-paddled to safety.  Till my arm died I purged with my paddle pump.  Still half-full, I paced back into the surf to get my water bottle.  I considered a 2nd attempt at rescuing my GPS, but I thought it was probably busted now anyways. Luckily, I spotted the cabin's benches from the water.  I wouldn't have checked it out if I hadn't to take a crap! This is the coolest little cabin I've seen.  The sun is shining so I'm gonna go play some kelp-ball golf. Check out website zensters! web.mac.com/worldofintuition Love You All! Tris(??? illegible)

August 9 Six of us camping/kayaking at the south end of Burnett Bay. Paddled and hiked around for a couple days and are having a good old time.  Two days left and we are going to enjoy them. Mother Nature has been kind to us and I hope she stays that way. Best to rest that follow. Tony, Bill, Doug, Chris, Norm, Al aka "Odd Squad"

August 17 & 18 Enjoyed this location, one of the prettiest on the coast.  Much appreciated this ??? cabin.  70 &71 year old kayakers.  We did a wet launch from BC Ferries near Codvill Lagoon, going to Port Hardy. Liz and Phil (grannieb@telus.net)

August 25 Three slept in cabin, soggy in the rain.  On our way to Bella Bella from Port Hardy.  I took digital shots of log and entries.  Great beach walk yesterday.

August 25 Bella Bella to Port Hardy --- a wonderful trip.  Stretched my leg on a beautifull walk, bathed in the river at the far end.  Good food, good friends. Great place! Sheila, Bowen Island, BC

August 28 Seiner 'C. Freeman' Second visit here.  Thought I'd see if shack was still here, was here 3-4 years ago.  Going to walk the beach. See Ya. Jeffrey

August 28 What a spot.  Weathered out some gale winds and enjoyed the hut.  Will come back.  All the way from Australia. Russel

August 28 Storm bound but having fun. Gill & Mike Arbutlinott, Aberdeenshire, Scotland (Kingfisher trip)

August 28  Not the first time & definitely not the last. Not all who wander are lost. Don

August 28 First time here.  Absolutely amazing.  Hope to be back soon. Kerry 

September 20  What a wonderfull and mysterious place!  Here from the beaches of NC! We are so fortunate to come here by helicopter from Nimmo Bay --- thanks to Kevin.  What an adventure!  Black bears, grizzlies, eagles and seals on the way here --- on the way back who knows!  Looking forward to the rest of our adventure.  And we all lived happily ever after. Carla, Tommy, Edward & sons Lee, Stewart Greenville, NC Kinston, NC

2008

January 20 My first trip to the cabin this year, still in good shape, just a great day. Lots of new drift on the beach.  Bennie my dog sure loves it! Happy New Year! Bill V. CGASC

April 28 Bill V and I flew in to explore on a great west coast evening.  Wind calm, slightly overcast but the sun still casts a warm glow on the beach.  Only problem was we didn't bring a cameraman! John Lovelace (host of aviation TV show, "Wings Over Canada")

May 16 Matt Edwards, Ryan Adams, sea kayaking Hardy - Haynes.  Just visited, didn't stay. Rad place! R & M NZ & Australia

July 19  What a beautiful scenic ride down the beach in a Nimmo Bay chopper.  Moore Cary NC

July 19 Though my soul may set in darkness.

It shall rise in the light

I have loved the stars too dearly

to be fearfull of the night.

Barbara B.R. NC

July 23 Sweet spot! Tanner-Rainville-VT

(Thanks to Phil and Apryle for photographing the following entries)

Aug 1 Didn’t notice the last time I was here but wow – there sure are a lot of mice! Most of the time they are quite discrete, but then, as if on cue, at some time long after sunset, its all of a sudden “Mouse Happy Hour!”, and if you turn the light on they’re all over – big ones, small ones, all scurrying around. Then the burst of activity winds down again. Strange. Not the place for anybody with a rodent phobia. Goodbye, cabin in the woods, til next year…Tom

Aug 4 Marie and Tom here for the night en route to Port Hardy. Started Experiment Point on 7/27. Sweet cabin!

Sept 9 Rob and Jen stayed in the cabin for 2 nights and are being picked up by Stardust. Flipped kayak, lost paddles, Jen burned hand, Rob spilled beer, but we kayaked, surfed and bathed in the river.

Sept 21 Bren and Bernie and I just flew in from Port McNeill. The beach is just as great as it always is, really warm about 15 knot wind, just enough to keep the flies away. Its great to see the cabin still in good shape and getting some use. We’ve had a good walk on the beach. Lots of birds for Bernie to chase. Bill and Brenda V

2009

April 15 Heading for Skagway Alaska from Saltspring Island, left April 2 and have ben hung up her in southeasterly storms for a day and a half. Wonderful place to be stuck! Hope to leave on a shop window break early tomorrow morning (April 17). Would like to keep getting this wind on our backs as we’ve got nice sail rigs on our kayaks. Great to see the cabin in such good shape. Jack and Brian

May 19 Just a great, hot and sunny day and just enough of a breeze to keep the flies away. Bennie and I had a good walk on the beach, saw 1 wolf at the far end. Cabin still in good shape. Who ever uses it should remember to close the sun roof to protect the glass from falling branches etc. It’s a great day for flying and walking on the beach with man’s best friend. Bill V and “Benny”

June 17 Just a quick break on a foggy morning to see this beautiful cabin. Left 5 days ago from Port Hardy in our tandem folding kayak enroute to Ketchikan. Having a lovely time. Grizzly and wolf tracks by stream. Thank you to those who make this place possible. Pearl and David, Cascabel, Arizona

June 24 We’ve paddled here from Gig Harbor, WA over the last 53 days. We’ve fought contrary currents, howling headwinds, aching joints, and a deep rift in our relationship, but we’ve made it to Burnett Bay and have spent a day resting, refueling, and enjoying this cozy little cabin. Tomorrow we will round Cape Caution, wind and swell permitting, and continue toward Alaska. We haven’t been moving quickly, but for a pair of Pennsylvania flatlanders who call themselves Colorado climbers, I am pretty proud to be here safe and strong.  The cabin is in good shape. Haven’t seen the skylight cover but will take a closer look before leaving. The stove has rusted through in a few spots but still burns hot and draws well. We really could ask for a more perfect spot for a rest day…I almost hope the weather pins us here for a few days. Thank you Randy and everyone else who has contributed to this safe haven. May the wind be to your backs! Phil and Apryle

June 25 Quick note, spent an extra day waiting for a break in the weather before paddling around Cape Caution. On disassembly the stove chimney pipe this evening, the section attached to the stove came loose. There appears to be some extra stovepipe and tin under the cabin, though repairing the stove may be beyond my skill and equipment. If we stay another day I’ll take a closer look, otherwise, my apologies! Thanks again…this place is magical. Phil and Apryle