I did not realize how tired I was yesterday until I laid on the hotel bed for a small rest before taking a walk around town, only to wake up around 3:00 am. I concluded I might as well sleep another three hours and get an early start.
I had incredibly mirror-like calm conditions again the entire day under a blazing sun. I sweated profusely inside my dry suit and had to roll several times to cool off. In the evening I counted the number of clean shirts I still had. Two more. That meant I’d want to be done paddling in two days.
The weather was so calm the flow of the tide was barely noticeable. Only at the Dungeness Spit and Lighthouse did I notice that I could coast 2 miles per hour without paddling.
I reached a small islet off the coast called Protection Island. At the south shore was a sandbank where some two hundred seals were lounging in the sun. Even though I was some fair distance away, one of them must have sighted my unusual looks, sounded the alarm, and set his friends into a stampede for the water.
“Come on guys, I think you’re being a little dramatic. I don’t even look like an orca, and if I did, would you really want to be in the water?” I said.
Some of them did their periscopic observation to keep an eye on me and followed from a distance before I was far enough away for them to conclude I was not a threat and turned around.
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As I rounded the south side of the island and noticed a very large number of birds flying up above including a few puffins which I had not seen the entire journey.
My campsite was the base of a cliff with a narrow beach on the mainland within view of the island. The cliff was a glacial moraine. The sediment was so loose that little pebbles rolled down without warning with thumping sounds when they hit the water. Perhaps, I thought, that was the warning that suddenly the whole cliff face may come sliding down. A look down the shore at the uprooted trees and sand fans was enough for me to conclude that that must happen from time to time.
“Hopefully not tonight and not on this spot.” I said with more hope than certainty. A few more pebbles rolled down the hill at night with little crackling thumps but none hit the tent.
Sea Kayak Vancouver Island Circumnavigation
