Several years ago, Rich and I spent an enchanting day at Rosario Resort and Marina. I was looking forward to an equally memorable experience this trip, but I didn’t take into consideration the unpredictability of the weather.

As we motored to Rosario, the sky cleared and the wind picked up. Perfect sailing weather if you have a functional sail. Something we didn’t have!

Before we left Friday Harbor, Rich made a reservation at Rosario. Luckily, we got a slip in spite of most of the slips having been reserved weeks before by a local boating club.

As we approached the marina, we readied our lines and bumpers. Rich was concerned it was too windy to dock. I was confident we wouldn’t have a problem. As we pulled into the slip, several men were on hand to help. I threw the bow line, which was easily caught. I then rushed to the back of the boat to coil and throw the stern line. Usually, this line is stretched out so Rich can throw it from inside the cockpit after I’ve stepped onto the dock.

There was no way; however, I could have stepped off the boat because it was drifting the opposite direction… right into another sailboat. I frantically coiled the line and threw it, missing the dock by a few inches.

Meanwhile, Rich raced to the opposite side of the boat while I grabbed a loose bumper and tried to place it between our boat and the other sailboat. Too late; the two boats tapped together. Fortunately, they were about the same height and the man on the other sailboat, Rich and myself were able to push our boats apart and created enough momentum to direct our boat back towards the dock.

I quickly coiled and threw the stern line again. Success! Two men on the dock were able to pull our boat against the dock. We tied off the lines as I seethed, embarrassed at such a horrific docking and the shock of having hit another boat (there was no damage because we “tapped” rather than “smacked”).

Overcome with shame, I dashed into the galley, stripped off my sailing gear, grabbed my purse, and Sputnik, and jumped out of the boat… raced down the dock, across the resort and up the main road. I’m not sure where I was going. I wondering if I could walk across the entire island to the ferry terminal, hop on a ferry to Anacortes, and then somehow make it to the Amtrak station in Mount Vernon to take a train back to Seattle.

I was actually hoping to find a place to sit down, have a latte, and write my feelings on Sputnik. But, Orcas Island is small and has little commerce, aside from the Rosario Resort and the stores by the ferry terminal. The latter was miles away.

After walking seemingly for hours, straight up a hill, I decided to head back towards the marina. A sign on a side street pointed towards a camping area. I’d walked a short distance, coming to a tall concrete wall with a large pipe jutting out. Having read about the Moran Mansion at Rosario, I knew that Robert Moran had directed water from “somewhere” to run the turbines, which provided electricity for his mansion and the surrounding houses and support buildings.

The sign on the concrete wall said “Danger,” which only provoked my desire to clamber to the top. The wall was shaped like a gentle “U” with the now closed, pipe towards the bottom. The top of the wall was a short hike up a path. Not very dangerous!

And on the other side was a small lake with a well-worn trail, hugging the shore. I started walked, lugging my purse and Sputnik, and wondering what possessed me to take my netbook. Did I really expect to find a wireless connection on a remote island in the Puget Sound?

Happily, as I walked, the lake grew larger, and larger, and larger! It was a huge lake! Most likely Robert Moran had directed a river or several streams to create the lake. The concrete wall created a dam and when necessary, the pipe could be opened, allowing the water to gush down the hill and power the turbines.

It was soothing walking around the lake; I wished Rich was by my side to enjoy the site. Having a camera would have been nice too!

After circling the lake, now fully calmed down and quite exhausted from walking and having eaten little since breakfast, I headed down the main road to the marina. As I got on the boat, however, my legs gave away and I landed smack into the cockpit. Rich rushed up from the galley, deeply concerned that I’d hurt myself.

While I was away, Rich had been helping the harbormaster bring boats into the marina. The wind had made it exceptionally difficult to dock in the narrow marina. As Rich explained, we weren’t the only boaters with docking challenges. And we certainly weren’t the worse.

While I was gone, a large powerboat tried to enter the marina. According to Rich, it was going fairly fast. Several men were at the dock, ready to grab the lines; however, instead of turning to port, it sharply turned to starboard toward the shore and a large outcrop of rock. Rich said he must have “stained his drawers because we [men on the dock] nearly did.”

Miraculously the man was able to avoid colliding with the rocks before heading back out to open water. He then decided to tie up to the seaplane dock, which is a rickety wharf at the end of a short pier. For the most part, seaplanes land on the water, glide up to wharf, tied off to a cleat, passengers get on-and-off, and the plane is airborne within thirty minutes. The dock and attached wharf are absolutely not sturdy enough to hold a large powerboat!

The owner of the powerboat felt he could drive up to the seaplane dock, have his wife swing a line with a hook on the end, snag the wharf, and then hold the line until the boat could be properly tied to a cleat.

The harbormaster and several men on the dock were yelling at the powerboat driver not to try to maneuver because if they hooked the wharf and weren’t able to slow the boat, they can detach it from the dock. Not good.

Nevertheless, the powerboat approached the seaplane dock at considerable speed, his wife was able to hook the wharf, but there was no way she could hold onto the line. The powerboat had to be quickly turned to starboard to avoid smashing into the boat in the marina. Later that night, they recovered the hook and line, using their dinghy.

Evidentially, the powerboat has two engines, one engine could be throttled down, and the other was stuck. I missed the excitement of the seaplane non-docking maneuver, but was able to watch the powerboat attempt to anchor in open water. He kept going round-and-round, perhaps because he couldn’t shut off the malfunctioning engine. Who knows? With little light left, they were finally anchored.

The couple then went ashore in their dinghy to have dinner at the resort. When they returned, their dinghy wouldn’t start! They had to get a room at the resort. The next morning, we saw their dinghy being pulled behind another dingy! We hastily left before they started up the engine(s) on their powerboat.

The lesson is boating can be very challenging; to stay sane, realize not everything you do will have the desired outcome from docking to trimming a sail.

While at Rosario, Swim

Complementing the beauty and laid-back atmosphere of Rosario are the amenities at the resort. With your slip fee comes the use of four pools! One of the two outdoor pools is by the marina. The other outdoor pool is behind the Moran Mansion and overlooks the Puget Sound. We went in this pool several years ago when the weather was warmer. It was memorable swimming in the pool while watching sailboats tack back-and-forth in the Sound.

The indoor pool is part of the Spa at Rosario with mosaic tile floors leading to the pool and old world elegance with arched ceiling, antique lights, and soft music. The pool is very warm and transports you to simpler times when people were less rushed and enjoyed being outdoors without the distraction of radios and other electronics.

In a softly lit room is a large hot tub, which could easily accommodate a dozen people. Thankfully, Rich and I were the only ones in the spa so we could relax and not worry about making conversation. Afterwards, we took steamy showers in the spacious bathrooms, complete with smelly soap and soft towels.

You can also use the resort’s sauna, workout in the exercise room, take fitness classes (for a small fee) or enjoy spa services, such as a massage, facial, waxing, manicure, pedicure, and other relaxation treatment.

After soaking the angst from our bones, we walked back to our boat to make dinner. Along the way, I pet a couple of deer, which are more like giant dogs than deer. If you bring them a carrot or apple, they’d probably roll over and beg.

The next morning brought clear weather so I talked Rich into climbing up to the lake. This time, the walk seemed shorter and the lake more magnificent. If it had been warmer, I would have been tempting to take off my shoes and wade into the water.

Memorable View Where Eagles Soar

The weather remained clear and temperate all day as we motored to Pelican Beach on Cypress Island. After securing the boat, we went ashore with the intent of hiking up Eagle Rock. It’s short, not overly strenuous hike, considering it goes from sea level to 752 feet in about a mile. The view from the top is spectacular, enabling you to see islands, passages, and mountain ranges, including the North Cascades, Coast Range of British Columbia, and the Olympics.

It being warm and sunny, we sat on the rocks, sipping water and nibbling on the dried fruit and nuts we’d brought. We watched a large barge being towed below and quite a few power boats zipped across the Sound. We tried to takes pictures of the panoramic view, but it was hazy and with the sun setting in a few hours, there were deep shadows. Here’s an amazing panorama of the view.

The only wildlife we saw were swarming bugs, but had read about eagles, raptors, deer, and other wildlife on the island. To protect nesting raptors and other wildlife with young, the trial is closed between February 1^st and July 15^th.

While admiring the view, Rich looked down at his shoe and noticed a tarnished penny (see the picture of Rich’s shoe below). He picked it up. It was an 1899 Indian head penny! We wondered how long it’d been up there and who’d dropped it. The US Geological Survey marker had been placed on the rock in the early 1900’s so the penny was older than the marker!

Before returning to our boat, we chatted with four kayakers who’d paddled over from Anacortes. Cypress Island is a popular destination for sea kayakers because of its proximity to more populated island and amenities, including pit toilets.

The next morning, we hoped for good weather. We were out of luck. The visibility was so poor that half an hour after leaving Cypress Island, we had to stop and wait until the fog lifted. With little improvement after an hour, we hung a radar detector on the mast and both sat behind the wheel, our eyes glued to the radar for other boats or obstacles in the area as we motored precariously through the Sound.

This was the last day of our charter and we’d planned on spending our last night at Sucia Island or Chuckanut Bay, and then return the boat the next morning. As we neared Sucia, however, we made a decision to simply return the boat that night.

There was no point spending another night on the boat, bundled up to stay warm only to get up early the next morning and motor a few hours back to Bellingham. With the light of day quickly diminishing, we packed our bags, cleaning out the boat’s refrigerator, wiped down the cabin, and carried our bags back to our car. Two hours later, we were heading to Mount Vernon and the end of our annual Puget Sound sailing adventure.

After a day of sunny weather, spent in the Butchart Garden, we woke to overcast skies and the top of the boat was wet from drizzle. We pulled on our rain gear to keep dry and headed to Finlayson Arm, a narrow channel, which according to our sailing guide, was teeming with seals, sea lions, otters, eagles, and an occasional orca whale. Ha!

We saw one seal and little else. The most interesting part of the jaunt was a picturesque storybook house that could have been built by seven dwarves for a woman with snow white skin, jet black hair, and ruby red lips. You can see the house below.

Our next scheduled stop was Princess Margaret (Portland Island) to anchor for the night and spend the day hiking around the island. The entire island is a nature park with several trails and a sandy beach. I quickly concluded it would an unfulfilling experience so I talked Rich into going to Sidney Island, a funky-shaped island with a large sandy spit on the north end. In addition, a brick factory once flourished on the island.

Rich programmed the wave points and an hour or so later, we dropped our speed to a few knots as we made our way towards a row of mooring balls on the sandy end of the island. As we always do, we watched the depth meter to ensure we didn’t hit shallow water. As we got closer so did the bottom of the bay… really close… like seven feet in depth!

Rich’s knuckles were white as he clinched the wheel, trying to figure out what direction to turn to get into deeper water. We saw a few boats already moored so we knew the bay was deep in various places. The problem was we were at low tide and in a sailboat with a deep keel. It felt like hours, but it was probably only half an hour before we navigated to a mooring ball in fifteen feet of water.

There were quite a few people tied up to the stationary dock; they appeared to be locals from Vancouver Island, who’d motored over for the day to enjoy the sunshine and the wide, sandy beach.

We initially headed towards where the brick factory once stood. As we walked on the sandy path, we occasionally saw a broken brick and I thought “Oh, that’s interesting. A few bricks are left.”

After a few minutes of walking, we came to several large, grass-covered depressions. It was very picturesque. Reading the sign, we learned the area had once been hilly, but had been excavated to extract the clay for bricks.

We walked further and saw several foundations and twisted metal, the remains of the Sidney Tile and Brick Company buildings, brick-making equipment and furnaces. The company operated between 1906 and 1915 and employed hundreds of men to cut and haul wood for the furnaces, mine clay, work in the factory, and load ships bound for cities in need of building materials.

To our delight, as we wandered through the ruins, we listened to classical guitar music, played by a man on a picnic bench. Under a large tree, we found a fallow deer horn, which I picked up and stuffed into my backpack. It was probably illegal to take the horn, but I couldn’t resist! It cleaned up nicely with bleach once we got home and is now next to the deer horns we found in Texas, and goat jawbone from the British Virgin Islands.

The closer we walked to the shore where the brick factory had been located, the more bricks we saw. At the waterline, there wasn’t a trace of sand. Only broken bricks. It was surreal to see so many bricks, sprawled across the beach and into the water.

After getting our fill of the historical site, we circled back and headed to the opposite end of the island. With the tide rising, Rich was insistent we not dawdle. Sure enough, as we got to the far end of the island, we had to take off our shoes, roll up our pants and walk across a rivulet of swiftly flowing water, which fifteen minutes earlier, had been a trickle.

The sand was so soft and white that I didn’t want to leave, but the sun was setting and the water rapidly rising. Begrudgingly, I got into the dinghy for the ride back to our boat.

After a satisfying day, we went to sleep with the hope the next day would bring great weather for our trip across the Haro Straits to Lime Kiln to see the orca whales that were reportedly in the area.

Our luck ran out on Thursday morning.

We woke to rain, cold, wind, and misery. As we approached San Juan Island, the weather got worse. “Oh please,” I begged the weather gods, “I want to see the orca whales.” Obviously they didn’t hear me because the winds seemed to be growing stronger by the minute. As we got close to Roche Harbor, Rich turned into the bay and headed straight towards the customs dock to check back into the United States.

Several people on the dock grabbed the lines I threw as Rich gunned the boat into the dock. With strong winds, you can’t be meek about docking. Once tied up, a custom officer approached our boat to inform me one of the bumpers I tied onto the boat was too low, and she noticed we narrowly missed hitting a large cleat on the dock. Groan.

I just wanted to cry because I’d waited an entire year to sail down the Haro Straits to see the whales! And now I had to wait another year. Even more distressing, there were three pods of orcas in the area, which is very unusual.

At the end of our trip, I bumped into my instructor from my bareboat sailing course. She’d been out with a group of students and said there were orca whales everywhere… and they were even chasing after their boat!

While I was chatting with the custom officer on the dock, Rich went into the custom’s office with our passports. The officer came out to verify that I was the only passenger. Of course, I was still on a tirade about not being able to see the orcas. So the officer whipped out his cell phone and called his friend, a tour boat operator, to see if any orcas had been cited that morning. Nope.

(The carousel animals are from the merry-go-round at the Butchart Gardens)

Even if we wanted to go back into the Haro Straits and brave the weather, chances were that we wouldn’t have seen any whales until later in the day when the tide changed direction and the salmon started swimming up the straits.

It didn’t matter because we were expected in Friday Harbor, where they were going to try to fix our sail. A few hours later, we pulled into a slip and called the charter company. A man zoomed up to our boat in a small craft (it was barely a boat). He elicited our help in taking down the sail, explaining he had less than an hour to get it to the sail loft for repair.

Friday Harbor is okay. I’m not enthused with Friday Harbor after visiting towns in the Gulf Island. Friday Harbor is the largest town in the San Juan Islands so it has a little of everything from a West Marine store to art galleries, yarn store, antique shops, realtors (lots of realtors), sizable grocery store, restaurants, bars, etc. After having our sail removed, we wandered around a bit while drinking tasty coffees.

After dinner, we decided a shower was in order, but we had no change so we spent half an hour or more trying to figure out how to get change with limited options. With it being late in the season, many of the stores closed early or were simply closed until the spring.

The marina laundromat didn’t have a change machine. A bartender in one of the few open eateries claimed he didn’t have change. Finally, we walked to the grocery store and Rich bought a pack of gum and a newspaper… and was able to get a handful of quarters.

Refreshed after the shower, we looked forward to getting our sail back first thing in the morning and then sailing to Rosario.

We got our sail back the next morning, but the ripped tab was crudely sewn and the handy man didn’t have the means to retrieve the halyard from the top of the mast so he recommended that we use the topping lift and thread the sail up the mast. We gave it a try and it looked okay, but after the handyman left, Rich and I concurred that we had no faith in his jury rigged fix. We pulled down the sail, tied it to the boom and backed out of the slip…

On Monday morning, after leaving Ganges on Saltspring Island, we headed to Cowichan Bay (below), which the free visitor guide calls “a quaint, funky, seaside village.” We arrived a little before two o’clock and had to quickly tie to the dock with gusty winds determined to blow us the opposite direction. No sooner had we secured boat when the harbor master paid us a visit. He wanted to know if we were going to spend the night.

“No.”

Evidentially, after 2 o’clock, you can’t tie up to the public dock without paying the overnight fee. We asked the harbor master if we could spend 45-minutes zipping through the town and he reluctantly agreed.

The town has the expected eateries and pubs, art galleries, gift shops, docks of boats and house boats, tourist activities like whale watching, floatplanes, and sea kayaks, and charming inns and bed-and-breakfasts. What we found most interest and the sole reason why we’d return to Cowichan is the Maritime Center. This unusual museum is a series of small buildings that stretch across a dock, which was once a condemned fuel loading dock.

At the foot of the dock is a large building where boatbuilding skills are taught. Herb Rice, a Coast Salish Native Indian artist, has a studio at the front of this building where you can watch him carve, see his artwork, and even take a wood carving class.

Between this building and the dock were several small wooden boats in various stages of completion and restoration. The art of bending, shaping, and sealing wood to create a waterproof craft must take decades to master.

The galleries, along the dock, house collections of outboard engines, pulleys, lines, engines, oars, small wooden canoes and rowboats, and boatbuilding tools. Because these galleries are open on both sides and built over the dock, it’s like walking through someone’s workshop or garage.

At the very end of the dock is an enclosed building, which houses amazing 1/96 scale model ships (left) by Ewald Dwersteg, whose patience as an ear, nose and throat specialist surgeon provided him with the discipline to make extremely detailed models.

Fishing vessels, carved from a single block of wood by Harvey George, an elder native carver of the T’Souke band, are also on display. I found these boats most interesting because it’s unusual to see models of commercial fishing vessels. Unlike Dwersteg, George carves from memory and eye without referring to drawings and archeological articles.

Also in this building was china from dozens of cruise ships along with other maritime memorabilia.

Spinning in the Galley

After our whirlwind tour of Cowichan Bay, we motored a few miles to Genoa Bay to drop anchor for the night. It’d been a windy day, which escalated when we started to look for a place to anchor. We had no problem anchoring and “holding,” but with the consistent 20 knot winds, Rich was concerned that we were too close to the shore.

Up went the anchor. This time, we dropped the anchor when we were exactly in the middle of the bay and it held us in the middle… theoretically. The wind was gusting so hard that looking up from the galley to the cockpit, the scenery flashed by. It was like being on a merry-go-round.

To insure the boat wasn’t drifting, Rich used our GPS to track the movement of the boat. For half an hour or so, the GPS kept sounding an alarm until the movement of the boat was established. Meanwhile, we both contemplated staying up half the night at anchor watch. However, by the time we finished eating dinner, the wind died down and we had a restful evening.

From Cement to Flowers

Months before our sailing adventure, I’d read in several sailing books that you can grab a mooring ball near the back gate of the Butchart Gardens on Vancouver Islands. I was anticipating walking half or mile or so to the entrance of the gardens.

It was an unexpected surprise to discover the gate into the garden was within swimming distance of our boat… provided you were a seal or sea lion and could tolerate ice-cold water. It was super easy to grab a mooring ball in the protected cove (right) and then tie a stern line, 100 yards or so from the back of the boat. I’m glad Rich paid attention as to how to do this maneuver; it required he rig up a large spool of nylon line so it unrolled as he rowed to shore in our dinghy. He then had to secure the dinghy, get out, and stand on a pile of slippery rocks while tying the line to a ring in the rock face.

After this tricky maneuver was completed, we were ready to dinghy over to the dock by the garden gate. We used an intercom to order the tickets. Slipped a credit card into the machine, and voila the magic gate swung open…

In 1888, dry goods merchant, Robert Pim Butchart, began manufacturing Portland cement, using limestone deposits, which were plentiful in the area. When the limestone quarry near his home was exhausted, his enterprising wife, Jennie, conceived a plan to refurbish the bleak pit. Top soil from nearly farmers was hauled to the quarry by horse and cart. Little-by-little the quarry began to blossom into a sunken garden.

Throughout the years, Japanese, Italian, and rose gardens were added to the estate, which was opened up to the public. Each year over one million bedding plants, consisting of seven hundred varieties, are used throughout the gardens to ensure uninterrupted blooms from March through October.

In the winter, the garden is illuminated with lights and an ice ring is set up in December. In the summer, there are weekly fireworks displays. Check out these videos to see the various seasons of the garden.

The day were visited, the weather was extraordinary, considering it poured the day before and two days later. We striped down to short-sleeve shirts as we wandering through the gardens, taking nearly two hundred pictures!

The dahlias were in full bloom along with fuchsias, begonias, chrysanthemums, impatiens, marigolds, petunias, hydrangea (groan), zinnia (I usually don’t like them, but they had itty-bitty ones that resembled marigolds), salvia, and much, much more!

We spent nearly the entire day at the garden. When we got back to our boat, we watched the sunset as we sipped wine and ate cheese and crackers.

Here’s a self-portrait of us in front of a recently installed water feature at the garden. You can see the craggily rock, which is now covered with trees, and creeping plants. When Mrs. Butchart started creating the garden, there was only several large, barren pits where the lime had been removed along with several mounds of solid granite. Suspended by ropes, Mrs. Butchart would find shelves in the granite, add a handful of dirt and plant a piece of ivy, cotoneaster or other creeping plant.

Her efforts are now enjoyed by over one million visitors per year.