In the Bay of Dolphins

Nelson Island

22/08 — Duke’s Marina (Sechelt) to Buccaneer Bay (Thormanby Island)

New cooler, who dis. It fit everything we threw at it and still looked like it could take more.

Thormanby was gentle that night. Only a handful of boats scattered across the bay, each rocking slowly, as if they were breathing in sync. The sky burned pink, ribs charred on the grill, mushrooms stuffed and bubbling, potatoes soft with garlic and herbs. Later, we stretched out on the bow, the air warm, the tide lapping. The stars spilled out like confetti, the kind of sky that makes you believe in promises you can’t quite put into words.

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23/08 — Buccaneer Bay (Thormanby Island) to Green Bay (Nelson Island)

We left with coffee warming our hands, anchor clinking as it lifted. The Strait opened wide and calm, Texada’s ridges soft in the west, the Coast Mountains sharp and blue in the east. It felt like the world had parted just for us.

We trolled along the way — no bites, no luck, but that’s ok. About 12 nautical miles later, passing through Agamemnon Channel between Nelson Island and the Sunshine Coast, Green Bay opened up. Chalets clung to the rocks at the entrance, but deeper in the bay the water fell still. A sailboat was anchored near the split rock, half-hidden at low tide. At the far end, a lone cabin sagged into the forest. Off to one side, the sunken hull of an abandoned sailboat rested in the shallows, only its mast left above water.

We dropped anchor opposite the outcrop, settling Sea Goat into the bay.

And then came the dolphins — a whole pod of Pacific white-sideds, circling and leaping right around us. For hours they stayed, skimming past the hull and breaking the surface with silver arcs. We ate shrimp cakes with avocado salsa, but barely noticed the food. Our eyes never left the water.

Later we took the dinghy out, following the shoreline.

More abandoned cabins, once alive with quarry men and loggers, now softened into moss and silence.

One of many abandoned cabins along the shores

Back on board, we poured rosé as the dolphins returned. A mother seal and her pup lingered closest, rolling slow in the kelp. I named them Seala and Sealo, because names made them our friends, even just for the night. Dinner was chicken kebabs, mushrooms again, couscous. The bay was calm, the stars sharp. We played games, laughed until the quiet swallowed us, and slept to the sound of dolphins breathing near.

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24/08 — Green Bay (Nelson Island) to Duke’s Marina (Sechelt)

Anchor up, smooth this time. Merci beaucoup.

The Strait was calm for the crossing, and Sea Goat cut through like a dream. We trolled as we went, landing a small coho that we released. Day three and the cooler still held ice — cheers to that small win. Breakfast was mimosas on deck with our classic seafood cakes and salsa.