Here is one of the cruising stories I brought back from Canada.

Toba Wildernest


We motored slowly up Homfray Channel, where despite the late August
date and the Desolation Sound location we encountered no other boats
for over two hours. The wind was fast asleep, and the seas perfectly
unperturbed. Our passage was like sliding across a black, silver, and
cerulean mirror, with the gentle ripples of our wake forming a long,
crisp, perpetual V. We glided through the shady canyons between craggy,
dark green mountain peaks girdled with tumbling layers of crinoline
clouds, and it seemed as though the world had been drawn afresh for a
moment, and especially to our taste.

The nearly vertical mountains flanking our course were lofty summits
indeed, born in almost equally deep caverns in the world of silent
blackness under our keel. Peaks near Pt. Foster are taller than
Snoqualmie Pass. Just beyond the abandoned village at Homfray Creek,
Mt. Whiledon sports a NE glacier at an elevation approaching 6000 feet
(higher than Denver, Colorado). Our sounder confirmed the predictions
of the chartplotter, measuring depths of 1500, 1700, and finally
surrendering the effort as the bottom dropped below the 2000-foot limit
of the device. From our vantage point in the channel, no roads, farms,
or villages could be seen. Our view was much like that of the early
Spanish and English explorers, or even the first nations that preceded
them.

Our destination was a remote marina, Toba Wildernest Resort, where
Pryce Channel, Homfray Channel, Waddington Channel, and Toba Inlet
converge. (At the dock, our GPS read 50.19.479 N, 124.47.71 W). A
booming, blinking, blasting and blaring "sell you a condo?" resort
would be preposterous here, but we would discover the Toba Wildernest
to be a low-key, rustic, and relaxed facility that enhanced, rather
than spoiled, one of our "perfect days" in Desolation Sound.

Toba Wildernest is well off the beaten path. No roads reach the marina,
and the only access is by boat or seaplane. Jan asked the marina owner,
Kyle Hunter, whether there were any neighbors in the vicinity. "Do you
mean year 'round? During the winter months, there is a family with a
fish farm that lives partway down Waddington Channel. They are only a
few miles off, and that makes them the closest neighbors."

We arrived at Toba Wildernest early in the afternoon, and initially
were the only transient boat on the sun-bleached wooden float. We
hailed the marina on the VHF as we approached, but got no response.
(Kyle later concluded that he had probably been running a chain saw
when we called). Kyle met us at the dock positioned us at the extreme
end of the float to maximize available space. As the afternoon matured,
a half dozen additional boats straggled in to fill most of the
remaining space, but another boat or two could have been accommodated
with just a bit of additional shuffling. Overnight moorage at Toba
Wildernest is $1 per foot. There is an unlimited supply of pure
mountain stream water at the dock, but no shorepower. A stainless steel
fish gutting station and sink occupies one end of the main float and
reportedly sees frequent use.
Depths of over 100-feet are a modest cast away. "If you want to drop a
jig off the float you're likely to catch a bottom fish for dinner,"
said Kyle. "We have even had people catch salmon while standing on the
dock."

While going ashore at Toba Wildernest one immediately notices a few
indicators of the resort's general character. The gangway from the
float to the shoreline consists of two large logs, with a series of
planks nailed between them. The logs have just the slightest "spring"
underfoot. A hand painted sign welcomes boaters ashore. The path to the
office is lined with a canvas shaded porch swing, a casual table, and a
chunk of vengeful firewood wrapped entirely around the handle of an
axe. A wooden swing rigged with bright yellow poly rope dangles from a
timber nailed between two trees.

Facilities ashore are basic. The marina office sells blocks of ice, and
keeps a few groceries. Items available for sale are listed and priced
on a chalkboard, and as each runs out it is crossed off the list until
the next boatload of supplies arrives at Toba Wildernest. A
fastidiously clean restroom and shower accommodate visiting boaters,
with lights and hot water provided by a stream-driven electric turbine.
Toba Wildernest includes a group of rustic cabins available for
vacation and holiday rental, and all appeared occupied during our
visit.

Beyond lazing around the boat, kayaking in the cove, sampling the ice
cream bars, testing the swings, doing some reading, writing, resting,
and possibly even some casual fishing, recreational options at Toba
Wildernest include a very memorable hike up to the base of a nearby
waterfall. The 25-30 minute trek is more demanding than just a casual
walk, so some serious shoes (no flip-flops) and a moderate level of
physical fitness will prove useful.

The trail to the waterfall begins as a wide path at the marina office.
The path crosses a short bridge across a rocky creek bed, just up from
the mouth of the stream. As the driest weeks of summer drew to a close,
there was still a spirited flow beneath the bridge. The width of the
streambed and the expanse of barren rocks foster the impression that
during the rainy months there is a rampaging torrent here. The first
left-hand fork in the trail leads to a service area for Toba Wildernest
and is closed to the public. Setting off up the second left-hand fork
will begin a continuous climb to the waterfalls above the marina. The
trail is well marked and has been heavily traveled, but roots, stones,
and uneven footing in places require a modicum of deliberation
traveling to or from the falls.

While huffing and puffing up the steep trail, there are a number of
excellent opportunities to stop and examine aspects of the Toba
Wildernest's water supply system. A plastic pipe carries water from
near the base of the falls to a large, steel tank perhaps 1/3 of the
way from the summit of the trail. Another plastic pipe carries water
from the tank to Toba Wildernest, and the overflow spills away to
rejoin the stream surging through an adjacent ravine. I was grateful
for the interesting study in engineering, as it provided a dignified
excuse for slowing the pace a bit and recovering my breath. Near the
top of the trail, there is a wrecked cement mixer corroding away in the
bushes! (I was later told that it was hauled up there with pulleys and
cables, not packed in by hand).

A second bridge, far more dramatic than the short span across the mouth
of the creek, traverses the stream along the trail to the falls. Two
tree trunks were felled across the boulder strewn creek bed, and joined
by a series of cross ties. While the cross braces are about 8 feet
wide, only a 2-foot wide section has been planked to create a walkway.
All of the foot boards were once covered with roofing shingles to
provide traction, and in most places quite a bit of this covering is
still in place. Some of the planks appear extremely worn, but none
seemed actually rotten. A handrail fashioned from 1 x 4's prevents
hikers from tumbling off the single-file bridge decking into the rocky
tumult 10-15 feet below.

As the climb continues, the sound of falling water becomes increasingly
louder; a windy spray and splashing sound that harmonizes perfectly
with the gurgling shush of the swirling rivulets tumbling past the
rocks, the logs, and the short ledges in the stream.

Near the base of the falls, two sections of the trail would be almost
impassable except for the presence of some strategically placed
climbing ropes. The first rope assists hikers in scrambling up a
vertical stack of roots, with just a few very tenuous footholds. Jan
often leads our hikes while I trail along behind making mental notes
and taking pictures. She had started up the first rope when a
suspicious thought occurred to her. "I assume you're not back there
even thinking about taking my picture from that particular perspective,
are you?"

I shoved my camera back into the bag very quickly. "Oh no, dear. Of
course not. I mean, I wouldn't think of it. But this rope climb has
pretty good story value, so what do you say you stop about halfway up
the rope and I'll see if I can find an even more flattering angle from
which I might get a photo?" So she did. (Jan is such a good sport).

The second rope climb is longer, and slightly trickier than the first
as it crosses a curving expanse of barren rock where the footholds are
nothing more than fissures, cracks, and wrinkles along the surface. On
a rainy day, the second rope climb is probably quite slippery. On a dry
day, one is still keenly aware that a complete stranger of a climbing
rope is the only variable between a safe arrival at the falls and
falling down the rock to possibly serious injury.

The waterfall above Toba Wildernest is high, very vertical, and
dramatic. If the waterfall were a musical instrument, it would be a
bagpipe. Against a steady and perpetually droning cascade, random shots
of crisp white water break loose and leap from an upper ledge. The
globs soar into space and break into groups of drops. Notes against
tone are as water on stone- the exuberant non-conformists fall for a
few seconds and then rain with a soft percussive tap on the naked
parapet below. The August stream gathers in deep, clear, cauldrons
among the basalt escarpments nearby, as though the water needs to catch
a breath before plunging into the rocky channel and completing the last
leg of a journey to the sea. The collected pools are gold, and grey,
and green. A fawn colored log is tossed across one corner of the lowest
pool, where it waits for the next high water to flush it farther along
the stream. During these low water months, sightseers at the falls
often venture out onto the same steep, slippery crags that will be
reclaimed by a spring surge. The visitors erect small cairns of stones
to commemorate their odysseys.

When the rains come and the waters rise, the feeble cairns raised by
the last summers' visitors will be swept aside by the raging, renewing,
torrents. Perhaps the rise and fall of these temporary cairns
illustrate a principle that allows Toba Wildernest to remain a special
place, where visiting boaters can find some genuine hospitality but
where each summer begins anew, afresh, and delightfully unspoiled.

Great story.....great writing. Glad to see you back safe and sound
Chuck....and hope you are not too sore from the workout. ;-)


wrote in message
oups.com...
Here is one of the cruising stories I brought back from Canada.

Toba Wildernest


We motored slowly up Homfray Channel, where despite the late August
date and the Desolation Sound location we encountered no other boats
for over two hours. The wind was fast asleep, and the seas perfectly
unperturbed. Our passage was like sliding across a black, silver, and
cerulean mirror, with the gentle ripples of our wake forming a long,
crisp, perpetual V. We glided through the shady canyons between craggy,
dark green mountain peaks girdled with tumbling layers of crinoline
clouds, and it seemed as though the world had been drawn afresh for a
moment, and especially to our taste.

The nearly vertical mountains flanking our course were lofty summits
indeed, born in almost equally deep caverns in the world of silent
blackness under our keel. Peaks near Pt. Foster are taller than
Snoqualmie Pass. Just beyond the abandoned village at Homfray Creek,
Mt. Whiledon sports a NE glacier at an elevation approaching 6000 feet
(higher than Denver, Colorado). Our sounder confirmed the predictions
of the chartplotter, measuring depths of 1500, 1700, and finally
surrendering the effort as the bottom dropped below the 2000-foot limit
of the device. From our vantage point in the channel, no roads, farms,
or villages could be seen. Our view was much like that of the early
Spanish and English explorers, or even the first nations that preceded
them.

Our destination was a remote marina, Toba Wildernest Resort, where
Pryce Channel, Homfray Channel, Waddington Channel, and Toba Inlet
converge. (At the dock, our GPS read 50.19.479 N, 124.47.71 W). A
booming, blinking, blasting and blaring "sell you a condo?" resort
would be preposterous here, but we would discover the Toba Wildernest
to be a low-key, rustic, and relaxed facility that enhanced, rather
than spoiled, one of our "perfect days" in Desolation Sound.

Toba Wildernest is well off the beaten path. No roads reach the marina,
and the only access is by boat or seaplane. Jan asked the marina owner,
Kyle Hunter, whether there were any neighbors in the vicinity. "Do you
mean year 'round? During the winter months, there is a family with a
fish farm that lives partway down Waddington Channel. They are only a
few miles off, and that makes them the closest neighbors."

We arrived at Toba Wildernest early in the afternoon, and initially
were the only transient boat on the sun-bleached wooden float. We
hailed the marina on the VHF as we approached, but got no response.
(Kyle later concluded that he had probably been running a chain saw
when we called). Kyle met us at the dock positioned us at the extreme
end of the float to maximize available space. As the afternoon matured,
a half dozen additional boats straggled in to fill most of the
remaining space, but another boat or two could have been accommodated
with just a bit of additional shuffling. Overnight moorage at Toba
Wildernest is $1 per foot. There is an unlimited supply of pure
mountain stream water at the dock, but no shorepower. A stainless steel
fish gutting station and sink occupies one end of the main float and
reportedly sees frequent use.
Depths of over 100-feet are a modest cast away. "If you want to drop a
jig off the float you're likely to catch a bottom fish for dinner,"
said Kyle. "We have even had people catch salmon while standing on the
dock."

While going ashore at Toba Wildernest one immediately notices a few
indicators of the resort's general character. The gangway from the
float to the shoreline consists of two large logs, with a series of
planks nailed between them. The logs have just the slightest "spring"
underfoot. A hand painted sign welcomes boaters ashore. The path to the
office is lined with a canvas shaded porch swing, a casual table, and a
chunk of vengeful firewood wrapped entirely around the handle of an
axe. A wooden swing rigged with bright yellow poly rope dangles from a
timber nailed between two trees.

Facilities ashore are basic. The marina office sells blocks of ice, and
keeps a few groceries. Items available for sale are listed and priced
on a chalkboard, and as each runs out it is crossed off the list until
the next boatload of supplies arrives at Toba Wildernest. A
fastidiously clean restroom and shower accommodate visiting boaters,
with lights and hot water provided by a stream-driven electric turbine.
Toba Wildernest includes a group of rustic cabins available for
vacation and holiday rental, and all appeared occupied during our
visit.

Beyond lazing around the boat, kayaking in the cove, sampling the ice
cream bars, testing the swings, doing some reading, writing, resting,
and possibly even some casual fishing, recreational options at Toba
Wildernest include a very memorable hike up to the base of a nearby
waterfall. The 25-30 minute trek is more demanding than just a casual
walk, so some serious shoes (no flip-flops) and a moderate level of
physical fitness will prove useful.

The trail to the waterfall begins as a wide path at the marina office.
The path crosses a short bridge across a rocky creek bed, just up from
the mouth of the stream. As the driest weeks of summer drew to a close,
there was still a spirited flow beneath the bridge. The width of the
streambed and the expanse of barren rocks foster the impression that
during the rainy months there is a rampaging torrent here. The first
left-hand fork in the trail leads to a service area for Toba Wildernest
and is closed to the public. Setting off up the second left-hand fork
will begin a continuous climb to the waterfalls above the marina. The
trail is well marked and has been heavily traveled, but roots, stones,
and uneven footing in places require a modicum of deliberation
traveling to or from the falls.

While huffing and puffing up the steep trail, there are a number of
excellent opportunities to stop and examine aspects of the Toba
Wildernest's water supply system. A plastic pipe carries water from
near the base of the falls to a large, steel tank perhaps 1/3 of the
way from the summit of the trail. Another plastic pipe carries water
from the tank to Toba Wildernest, and the overflow spills away to
rejoin the stream surging through an adjacent ravine. I was grateful
for the interesting study in engineering, as it provided a dignified
excuse for slowing the pace a bit and recovering my breath. Near the
top of the trail, there is a wrecked cement mixer corroding away in the
bushes! (I was later told that it was hauled up there with pulleys and
cables, not packed in by hand).

A second bridge, far more dramatic than the short span across the mouth
of the creek, traverses the stream along the trail to the falls. Two
tree trunks were felled across the boulder strewn creek bed, and joined
by a series of cross ties. While the cross braces are about 8 feet
wide, only a 2-foot wide section has been planked to create a walkway.
All of the foot boards were once covered with roofing shingles to
provide traction, and in most places quite a bit of this covering is
still in place. Some of the planks appear extremely worn, but none
seemed actually rotten. A handrail fashioned from 1 x 4's prevents
hikers from tumbling off the single-file bridge decking into the rocky
tumult 10-15 feet below.

As the climb continues, the sound of falling water becomes increasingly
louder; a windy spray and splashing sound that harmonizes perfectly
with the gurgling shush of the swirling rivulets tumbling past the
rocks, the logs, and the short ledges in the stream.

Near the base of the falls, two sections of the trail would be almost
impassable except for the presence of some strategically placed
climbing ropes. The first rope assists hikers in scrambling up a
vertical stack of roots, with just a few very tenuous footholds. Jan
often leads our hikes while I trail along behind making mental notes
and taking pictures. She had started up the first rope when a
suspicious thought occurred to her. "I assume you're not back there
even thinking about taking my picture from that particular perspective,
are you?"

I shoved my camera back into the bag very quickly. "Oh no, dear. Of
course not. I mean, I wouldn't think of it. But this rope climb has
pretty good story value, so what do you say you stop about halfway up
the rope and I'll see if I can find an even more flattering angle from
which I might get a photo?" So she did. (Jan is such a good sport).

The second rope climb is longer, and slightly trickier than the first
as it crosses a curving expanse of barren rock where the footholds are
nothing more than fissures, cracks, and wrinkles along the surface. On
a rainy day, the second rope climb is probably quite slippery. On a dry
day, one is still keenly aware that a complete stranger of a climbing
rope is the only variable between a safe arrival at the falls and
falling down the rock to possibly serious injury.

The waterfall above Toba Wildernest is high, very vertical, and
dramatic. If the waterfall were a musical instrument, it would be a
bagpipe. Against a steady and perpetually droning cascade, random shots
of crisp white water break loose and leap from an upper ledge. The
globs soar into space and break into groups of drops. Notes against
tone are as water on stone- the exuberant non-conformists fall for a
few seconds and then rain with a soft percussive tap on the naked
parapet below. The August stream gathers in deep, clear, cauldrons
among the basalt escarpments nearby, as though the water needs to catch
a breath before plunging into the rocky channel and completing the last
leg of a journey to the sea. The collected pools are gold, and grey,
and green. A fawn colored log is tossed across one corner of the lowest
pool, where it waits for the next high water to flush it farther along
the stream. During these low water months, sightseers at the falls
often venture out onto the same steep, slippery crags that will be
reclaimed by a spring surge. The visitors erect small cairns of stones
to commemorate their odysseys.

When the rains come and the waters rise, the feeble cairns raised by
the last summers' visitors will be swept aside by the raging, renewing,
torrents. Perhaps the rise and fall of these temporary cairns
illustrate a principle that allows Toba Wildernest to remain a special
place, where visiting boaters can find some genuine hospitality but
where each summer begins anew, afresh, and delightfully unspoiled.

Good story Chuck. We were at some moderately remote places this summer
in eastern Maine but nothing compared to your trip.

Know any good ways to get a GB49 from the east coast to the north west
(other than the {Panama Canal of course) ?

wrote:
Good story Chuck. We were at some moderately remote places this summer
in eastern Maine but nothing compared to your trip.

Know any good ways to get a GB49 from the east coast to the north west
(other than the {Panama Canal of course) ?


Watch the global warming. With permission from Canada, you should be
able to do the Northwest Passage route.

On Sun, 11 Sep 2005 00:16:23 -0700, chuckgould.chuck wrote:

Here is one of the cruising stories I brought back from Canada.

Toba Wildernest


Good Story, Chuck.

Reminds me of the "resort" we stayed at coming back from Ocean Falls. It
was just north of Rivers Inlet, and it was called Finn Bay Resort. But it
was a dock, and a house and a garden, and whenever they needed money they
felled a few trees. There was also a floating "Rec-room" area - a large
roof over picnic tables, and in the center, a huge BBQ made by cutting a
large steel bouy in half (we didn't ask where they got the bouy from...)

And on the barby were shrimps. Lots of them. More in a huge bowl behind
us. And if they needed more, they pulled one of the traps up from the dock
and poured it onto the grille. Oh, and beer. Lots of it.

One guy there used to do wooden boat repairs in Vancouver, but kinda ran
out of work, then he discovered how his wife really felt about "for richer
or for poorer". Now he's In Charge of making sure the sun comes up over
there and goes down over there (and he's doing a Damnfine job of it! )

I don't think I've been in a more laid-back place in my life. Aaaahhhhh!!!

Lloyd Sumpter
"Far Cove" Catalina 36