We’ve read many good things about Burgoyne Bay on Salt Spring Island. Mostly. Good things portrayed by the writers of various cruising guides. Juxtaposed against those positive and possibly semi-political guide lamentations… are many negative reviews describing the pirates, habituating dilapidated, nearly sinking boats that fill the anchorage to capacity. Only deep, leftover, difficult and undesirable places to sink ones hook into the mud are left for those who dare to trespass. And wonder… as the wind begins to blow: will the anchor hold, can we leave the boat unattended to exhaust our fattening bodies on the hiking topography described in the Provincial Marine Park as… challenging
First glance upon arrival was to discover that there were no addled hippies nor piratical looking sapiens lurking about preparing to dispense unreasonable mischief upon new arrivals. There were roughly 16 boats, and there were no apocalyptical zombies dancing around a beach fire waiting for new flesh to arrive. The anchorage was… perfectly normal. Canadian normal. There was one boat, some kind of aging Chris Craft tied to an anchored dock. Perhaps it was a remnant hippie hovel that the park service thought would serve as an historical reminder of the distant past of anchorage digressions. Hard to say… as many Canadian anchorages have an aging boat or two destined to succumb to the whimsies of the sea.
There were a few boats that appeared to be occupied, but for the most part they were neat and tidy, and appeared capable of seagoing endeavors.
We motored around a bit looking for the prefect unoccupied spot. There were many. Sort of… We found one just shy of 60 feet deep. A shoulder between a 30 foot shallow spot and the 100 foot level at the bottom of the bay. A likely spot to drop the hook. Les let out 200 feet and still had 200 feet more if it was necessary to employ such leverage. I put the engines in reverse and pulled back until Great Northern stopped in protest. Well… there was no protest. She just stopped and stayed stopped. Les set up the anchor bridle and called it done. We’ve been comfortably anchored for 4 days. Nuf said.
That first evening we settled down into a post passage, anchor, set the anchor alarms, and feast upon the availables routine… In this case we supped on pan fried steelhead filets soaked in ponzu, garlic and a bit of olive oil over a bed of seasoned basmati rice. The rice seasoning was reduced salt soy, garlic and onion powder (hey, I’m on a boat), enhanced with a dash of smokey sesame oil, always a welcome addition. Salad was raw sticks and shrubs with small bowls of my special dipping sauce. (Sticks and shrubs are broccoli florets, sliced apple, sliced summer squash, zucchini, and baby cucumbers. Dipping sauce is mayo, ketchup, garlic, fresh ground black pepper, soy sauce, Worchester, smokey sesame oil ) After that simple meal… we found ourselves ensconced in our aft deck chairs, warbling back and forth, recounting our activities, discussing our differences, petting our lap enhancing Leo who moves from lap to lap, and readying ourselves for the light show.
Beyond being a haven for distortion, half-truths, fabrication and spin… the Bergoyne Bay anchorage is known for spectacular illuminations: Metachromatic sunsets. I will not attempt to describe them. I will show you a sequence of early evening to later. Enjoy!
Magic, eh? That last ephemeral evening glow presented us with a fitting end to a spectacular day of cruising Thither and Yon within the Salish Sea. I think that this bay will go on the list as a very special place and we will be revisiting it in future.
Next post will contain thoughts and images pertaining to our visitations to the portions of land that surround this spectacular bay…
Salish Sea Cruising With Blair, Les, Leo, and Bliss 