Secret Cove


The west coast of British Columbia, from about the Fraser River north
to Desolation Sound, (the eastern shoreline of the Strait of Georgia)
is often referred to as the "Sunshine Coast". Of course, pure and
unadulterated Sunshine is a rare commodity in these latitudes for much
of the year, but the term makes sense on a relative basis. A "rain
shadow" created by mountainous Vancouver Island on the west side of
the Strait wrings all but about 40-inches of rain per year from the
soot gray clouds that some ashore from the eastern Pacific. There will
be measurable rainfall here about one day in five during the summer
months, and about twenty days each month during the winter, but
temperatures seldom dip below freezing on the Sunshine Coast. Compared
to the rain forests on the western slopes of Vancouver Island and the
lofty glacial realms of the mountains immediately east, the coastal
communities enjoy a mild and pleasant climate indeed. Much of the
northern portion of the Sunshine Coast is comprised of the Malaspina
Peninsula, while the Sechelt Peninsula is a major component of the
southern half. We often run along the Sunshine Coast, between Texada
Island and the mainland, when southbound from Desolation Sound, and
when weather permits we will continue across The Strait of Georgia to
Silva Bay or Nanaimo.

A late start from Lund and more current than the navigator (yours
truly) allowed for brought us to a mid-afternoon decision on an August
day in 2005. Winds had risen from the low to the middle teens, as the
Sunshine Coast was earning its reputation with warm breeze and ten
thousand fractured solar sparks spread like an undulating carpet on a
steel blue sea. We considered the moderate swells and whitecaps at the
southern end of the Malaspina Strait, and realized that as the
afternoon heat peaked near four o' clock the "thermal" winds
would likely create a lumpy crossing to Gabriola or Vancouver Island.
Environment Canada was broadcasting a prediction for fair weather the
following day, so an early morning crossing would most likely be rather
pleasant. We decided to "hole up" for the evening rather than risk
a beating, and we diverted to Secret Cove.

Secret Cove is a protected anchorage, a few miles north of Halfmoon Bay
and quite near the northern end of Welcome Passage. The Thormanby
Islands diffuse the worst effects of howling southerlies, and the
topography of the cove itself shelters the anchored boats and a variety
of marine facilities from most winds. The Smuggler Cove Provincial
Marine Park is almost immediately south along the Sechelt Peninsula
shoreline, and Buccaneer Bay Marine Park with a beach that just begs to
be explored is only a few minutes away. The fuel dock, general store,
and the restaurant at Secret Cove Marina are near enough to service
boaters enjoying the more rustic environs of the parks. We were looking
forward to a restaurant meal followed by a short walk (rather than a
long row) to "Indulgence", so we chose the guest dock option
instead of anchoring out.

Entering Secret Cove is just slightly difficult, and shouldn't be
attempted without first consulting a proper chart. Canadian
Hydrographic #3535 is a good choice. Make careful note of the location
of the entrance channel, proceed slowly, watch the depth sounder, and
double check your position relative to buoys and beacons once or twice
during the approach. Once past the somewhat narrow and rocky entrance,
the route to Secret Cove Marina is fairly straightforward and passage
should prove uneventful with the exercise of normal caution.

The names on the chart seem to suggest a local history of piracy,
smuggling, and general skullduggery. Secret Cove, Pirates Cove, and
Buccaneer Bay may or may not denote a few decades of rum running,
cigarette smuggling, or transporting illegal Asian laborers to the
Canadian mainland. Perhaps in more recent years boatloads of "illegal
herbs" may have landed in these secluded environs. Just as the
well-sheltered bays will shield a vessel from a variety of weather
conditions, surreptitious transactions could be conducted well out of
sight of any patrol vessels transiting between Georgia and Malaspina
Straits. There are some very old secrets in the district surrounding
the cove, and the history includes a tale of a malevolent entity that
was not only unseen from the surrounding waterways but was invisible to
the entire civilization it decimated along these shores.

As far back as the ancestors could remember, the Shishalh band had
lived at Secret Cove.
The first European to spend any significant time in the area is thought
to be Father Paul Durieu, a Catholic missionary priest. Father Durieu
felt that the Shishalh people were godless heathens in immediate need
of Christian spiritual values, and he furthermore considered it his
duty to supplant venerable tribal traditions with a more "modern"
way of life. Unfortunately, Father Durieu brought more than religious
zeal and sincere, (if possibly misguided), intentions to his Shishalh
mission. When Durieu arrived in the 1860's, he discovered a
flourishing culture of almost 5000 people. The smallpox epidemic he and
his priests brought ashore wiped out all but a few hundred of the
indigenous population in 1862. The weary, frightened, surviving natives
may have considered the plague a sign that their spiritual world had
turned topsy-turvy, and they noted that the newly arrived Europeans,
(who understood spiritual matters from a new and strange perspective),
did not seem to suffer from the same illness. In what was hailed at the
time as one of the "largest mass conversions in religious history"
the survivors consented to baptism.

What smallpox spared in that region of the nation that western tongues
mispronounced "Sechelt" rapidly fell victim to the "modern,
civilized" ways enforced by the mission priests. The mix of cultures
continued to devastate the Shishalh people, and even adopting the new
religion couldn't prevent the native population from declining to
just 167 individuals counted in the area census of 1881. Shishalh
children were forced to live in a year round boarding school where it
was absolutely forbidden to communicate in any language except English.
Parents of the students were required to learn English if they wanted
permission to speak with their children. The priests outlawed
traditional music and dance, and established instead a military style
brass band as the "approved" form of musical expression for the
Shishalh. The fire that destroyed the mission school in 1917 may or may
not have been accidental, but the school was rebuilt and continued to
"modernize" successive generations of the Shishalh until the
1960's.

Fortunes have improved for the Shishalh in recent decades. The band was
the among the first in BC to become self-governing, in 1986, and is
experiencing something of a cultural renaissance. Unfortunately, major
aspects of the civilization that was brought down by smallpox and
suppressed by the boarding school are now among the secrets concealed
by the cove. The Shishalh community is struggling to rediscover some
critical aspects and traditions of its own past. The story of the
Shishalh and the disastrous results of the well-intentioned
missionaries lend a bittersweet irony to the local "pirate" names
that tend to romanticize breaking of some important rules that
facilitate equitable social and financial transactions.

The community at Secret Cove today is an upbeat and pleasant place. We
found the Secret Cove Marina a very fine facility. The owners live on
site, and the docks and buildings are clean and well maintained. After
taking on some fuel, we were assigned a slip on the visitor's float
and we were surprised to discover, in August, that the marina was only
about half filled. The marina store is well stocked, and also licensed
to carry beer and wine. There are basic boat repair and maintenance
items available, as well as a good inventory of fishing equipment.
Angling in the nearby waters is said to be uncommonly rewarding, with
several charter companies operating along the Sechelt Peninsula.

We had no difficulty making dinner reservations at the Upper Deck Cafe,
located immediately above the store on the main float of the marina.
Experienced cruisers in these waters are familiar with the phenomenon
of exceptional restaurants tucked away in remote coves or very small
communities, and the Upper Deck Cafe can be added to our list of
personally recommended favorites. Service was prompt, and every time
the bottom of the breadbasket began to show though the piping hot,
fresh baked stack of rolls it was instantly whisked away and refilled.

Jan ordered the braised lamb shank (slow cooked in red wine with
sun-dried tomatoes and black olives), and she enjoyed it so much she
objected to parting with the smallest morsel of a sample. Almost four
decades of living with a woman can equip even the most obtuse male with
the ability to discern certain clues when she is (or isn't) enjoying
herself. In the opinion of this particular obtuse male, Jan was
absolutely sincere as she sang the praises of her entree long after
dinner was concluded and the plates were cleared.

I ordered the cedar plank wild salmon, (glazed with brown sugar in a
ginger-citrus marmalade on wahabi-infused Yukon gold potatoes). Jan was
clever enough to claim her bit of my entree the moment it arrived, as
if I had already savored that delicacy before her fork claimed a
portion of it I probably would have been as possessive as she was with
her lamb shank. The salmon was prepared in a traditional style, and
served on a cedar plank.
I can't immediately remember ever having any better salmon, but I do
specifically remember having to suppress my urge, (once the salmon had
been consumed), to next start in on the plank itself- it was every bit
as good as that.

We watched the sun conceal itself in billowing clouds of brass and
smoke on the western horizon. The wind was down, and soft ripples in
the cove tossed and shimmered to celebrate the folded cumulus reflected
on the surface. The black profile of the hills along the shoreline and
its perfect twin on the surface formed an unmoving double black line
between the fluid mirrors of sea and sky. It was if the universe had
been creased- along the horizontal shoreline of Secret Cove.

On 4 Jun 2006 00:34:57 -0700, "
wrote:

Secret Cove


The west coast of British Columbia, from about the Fraser River north
to Desolation Sound, (the eastern shoreline of the Strait of Georgia)
is often referred to as the "Sunshine Coast". Of course, pure and
unadulterated Sunshine is a rare commodity in these latitudes for much
of the year, but the term makes sense on a relative basis. A "rain
shadow" created by mountainous Vancouver Island on the west side of
the Strait wrings all but about 40-inches of rain per year from the
soot gray clouds that some ashore from the eastern Pacific. There will
be measurable rainfall here about one day in five during the summer
months, and about twenty days each month during the winter, but
temperatures seldom dip below freezing on the Sunshine Coast. Compared
to the rain forests on the western slopes of Vancouver Island and the
lofty glacial realms of the mountains immediately east, the coastal
communities enjoy a mild and pleasant climate indeed. Much of the
northern portion of the Sunshine Coast is comprised of the Malaspina
Peninsula, while the Sechelt Peninsula is a major component of the
southern half. We often run along the Sunshine Coast, between Texada
Island and the mainland, when southbound from Desolation Sound, and
when weather permits we will continue across The Strait of Georgia to
Silva Bay or Nanaimo.

A late start from Lund and more current than the navigator (yours
truly) allowed for brought us to a mid-afternoon decision on an August
day in 2005. Winds had risen from the low to the middle teens, as the
Sunshine Coast was earning its reputation with warm breeze and ten
thousand fractured solar sparks spread like an undulating carpet on a
steel blue sea. We considered the moderate swells and whitecaps at the
southern end of the Malaspina Strait, and realized that as the
afternoon heat peaked near four o' clock the "thermal" winds
would likely create a lumpy crossing to Gabriola or Vancouver Island.
Environment Canada was broadcasting a prediction for fair weather the
following day, so an early morning crossing would most likely be rather
pleasant. We decided to "hole up" for the evening rather than risk
a beating, and we diverted to Secret Cove.

Secret Cove is a protected anchorage, a few miles north of Halfmoon Bay
and quite near the northern end of Welcome Passage. The Thormanby
Islands diffuse the worst effects of howling southerlies, and the
topography of the cove itself shelters the anchored boats and a variety
of marine facilities from most winds. The Smuggler Cove Provincial
Marine Park is almost immediately south along the Sechelt Peninsula
shoreline, and Buccaneer Bay Marine Park with a beach that just begs to
be explored is only a few minutes away. The fuel dock, general store,
and the restaurant at Secret Cove Marina are near enough to service
boaters enjoying the more rustic environs of the parks. We were looking
forward to a restaurant meal followed by a short walk (rather than a
long row) to "Indulgence", so we chose the guest dock option
instead of anchoring out.

Entering Secret Cove is just slightly difficult, and shouldn't be
attempted without first consulting a proper chart. Canadian
Hydrographic #3535 is a good choice. Make careful note of the location
of the entrance channel, proceed slowly, watch the depth sounder, and
double check your position relative to buoys and beacons once or twice
during the approach. Once past the somewhat narrow and rocky entrance,
the route to Secret Cove Marina is fairly straightforward and passage
should prove uneventful with the exercise of normal caution.

The names on the chart seem to suggest a local history of piracy,
smuggling, and general skullduggery. Secret Cove, Pirates Cove, and
Buccaneer Bay may or may not denote a few decades of rum running,
cigarette smuggling, or transporting illegal Asian laborers to the
Canadian mainland. Perhaps in more recent years boatloads of "illegal
herbs" may have landed in these secluded environs. Just as the
well-sheltered bays will shield a vessel from a variety of weather
conditions, surreptitious transactions could be conducted well out of
sight of any patrol vessels transiting between Georgia and Malaspina
Straits. There are some very old secrets in the district surrounding
the cove, and the history includes a tale of a malevolent entity that
was not only unseen from the surrounding waterways but was invisible to
the entire civilization it decimated along these shores.

As far back as the ancestors could remember, the Shishalh band had
lived at Secret Cove.
The first European to spend any significant time in the area is thought
to be Father Paul Durieu, a Catholic missionary priest. Father Durieu
felt that the Shishalh people were godless heathens in immediate need
of Christian spiritual values, and he furthermore considered it his
duty to supplant venerable tribal traditions with a more "modern"
way of life. Unfortunately, Father Durieu brought more than religious
zeal and sincere, (if possibly misguided), intentions to his Shishalh
mission. When Durieu arrived in the 1860's, he discovered a
flourishing culture of almost 5000 people. The smallpox epidemic he and
his priests brought ashore wiped out all but a few hundred of the
indigenous population in 1862. The weary, frightened, surviving natives
may have considered the plague a sign that their spiritual world had
turned topsy-turvy, and they noted that the newly arrived Europeans,
(who understood spiritual matters from a new and strange perspective),
did not seem to suffer from the same illness. In what was hailed at the
time as one of the "largest mass conversions in religious history"
the survivors consented to baptism.

What smallpox spared in that region of the nation that western tongues
mispronounced "Sechelt" rapidly fell victim to the "modern,
civilized" ways enforced by the mission priests. The mix of cultures
continued to devastate the Shishalh people, and even adopting the new
religion couldn't prevent the native population from declining to
just 167 individuals counted in the area census of 1881. Shishalh
children were forced to live in a year round boarding school where it
was absolutely forbidden to communicate in any language except English.
Parents of the students were required to learn English if they wanted
permission to speak with their children. The priests outlawed
traditional music and dance, and established instead a military style
brass band as the "approved" form of musical expression for the
Shishalh. The fire that destroyed the mission school in 1917 may or may
not have been accidental, but the school was rebuilt and continued to
"modernize" successive generations of the Shishalh until the
1960's.

Fortunes have improved for the Shishalh in recent decades. The band was
the among the first in BC to become self-governing, in 1986, and is
experiencing something of a cultural renaissance. Unfortunately, major
aspects of the civilization that was brought down by smallpox and
suppressed by the boarding school are now among the secrets concealed
by the cove. The Shishalh community is struggling to rediscover some
critical aspects and traditions of its own past. The story of the
Shishalh and the disastrous results of the well-intentioned
missionaries lend a bittersweet irony to the local "pirate" names
that tend to romanticize breaking of some important rules that
facilitate equitable social and financial transactions.

The community at Secret Cove today is an upbeat and pleasant place. We
found the Secret Cove Marina a very fine facility. The owners live on
site, and the docks and buildings are clean and well maintained. After
taking on some fuel, we were assigned a slip on the visitor's float
and we were surprised to discover, in August, that the marina was only
about half filled. The marina store is well stocked, and also licensed
to carry beer and wine. There are basic boat repair and maintenance
items available, as well as a good inventory of fishing equipment.
Angling in the nearby waters is said to be uncommonly rewarding, with
several charter companies operating along the Sechelt Peninsula.

We had no difficulty making dinner reservations at the Upper Deck Cafe,
located immediately above the store on the main float of the marina.
Experienced cruisers in these waters are familiar with the phenomenon
of exceptional restaurants tucked away in remote coves or very small
communities, and the Upper Deck Cafe can be added to our list of
personally recommended favorites. Service was prompt, and every time
the bottom of the breadbasket began to show though the piping hot,
fresh baked stack of rolls it was instantly whisked away and refilled.

Jan ordered the braised lamb shank (slow cooked in red wine with
sun-dried tomatoes and black olives), and she enjoyed it so much she
objected to parting with the smallest morsel of a sample. Almost four
decades of living with a woman can equip even the most obtuse male with
the ability to discern certain clues when she is (or isn't) enjoying
herself. In the opinion of this particular obtuse male, Jan was
absolutely sincere as she sang the praises of her entree long after
dinner was concluded and the plates were cleared.

I ordered the cedar plank wild salmon, (glazed with brown sugar in a
ginger-citrus marmalade on wahabi-infused Yukon gold potatoes). Jan was
clever enough to claim her bit of my entree the moment it arrived, as
if I had already savored that delicacy before her fork claimed a
portion of it I probably would have been as possessive as she was with
her lamb shank. The salmon was prepared in a traditional style, and
served on a cedar plank.
I can't immediately remember ever having any better salmon, but I do
specifically remember having to suppress my urge, (once the salmon had
been consumed), to next start in on the plank itself- it was every bit
as good as that.

We watched the sun conceal itself in billowing clouds of brass and
smoke on the western horizon. The wind was down, and soft ripples in
the cove tossed and shimmered to celebrate the folded cumulus reflected
on the surface. The black profile of the hills along the shoreline and
its perfect twin on the surface formed an unmoving double black line
between the fluid mirrors of sea and sky. It was if the universe had
been creased- along the horizontal shoreline of Secret Cove.

Very nice story. Glad you stayed up late to share it with us. Just makes me
want to spend a couple months on the waters up that way, though.
--
John H

******************************************
***** Have a Spectacular Day! *****
******************************************

JohnH wrote:
Very nice story. Glad you stayed up late to share it with us. Just makes me
want to spend a couple months on the waters up that way, though.
--
John H


Thanks.
A couple of months isn't really long enough to soak it all in. (Soaking
being an appropriate verb for spending time up here, of course). One of
the freedoms that come with my job is the total absence of a fixed
schedule. If I want to write from 10 AM to 2 PM, or 10 PM to 2 AM it
doesn't make any difference either way.

I've got a photo that illustrates that last paragraph. Perhaps I'll put
it on the photo site and come back and establish a link.

Photo link for final paragraph

http://www.pbase.com/gould/sunset_at_secret_cove

(lest you suspect the description could be a less-than-accurate
portrayal of the event) :-)

On 4 Jun 2006 07:00:20 -0700, "
wrote:


JohnH wrote:
Very nice story. Glad you stayed up late to share it with us. Just makes me
want to spend a couple months on the waters up that way, though.
--
John H


Thanks.
A couple of months isn't really long enough to soak it all in. (Soaking
being an appropriate verb for spending time up here, of course). One of
the freedoms that come with my job is the total absence of a fixed
schedule. If I want to write from 10 AM to 2 PM, or 10 PM to 2 AM it
doesn't make any difference either way.

I've got a photo that illustrates that last paragraph. Perhaps I'll put
it on the photo site and come back and establish a link.

Well, when I come up for the ride on your boat, for how many months should
I plan to be out???
--
John H

******************************************
***** Have a Spectacular Day! *****
******************************************

On 4 Jun 2006 07:24:24 -0700, "
wrote:


Photo link for final paragraph

http://www.pbase.com/gould/sunset_at_secret_cove

(lest you suspect the description could be a less-than-accurate
portrayal of the event) :-)

Absolutely gorgeous picture!
--
John H

******************************************
***** Have a Spectacular Day! *****
******************************************

JohnH wrote:


Well, when I come up for the ride on your boat, for how many months should
I plan to be out???
--
John H



Maybe Chuck could set up a tour for the members of this newsgroup. Half
a dozen or more of us could fly out and 'charter' Chuck's boat and
services for the period. Of course he would give us a reasonable rate
and write it off as a working /business trip.

Don White wrote:
JohnH wrote:


Well, when I come up for the ride on your boat, for how many months
should
I plan to be out???
--
John H



Maybe Chuck could set up a tour for the members of this newsgroup. Half
a dozen or more of us could fly out and 'charter' Chuck's boat and
services for the period. Of course he would give us a reasonable rate
and write it off as a working /business trip.
Does Chuck's insurance cover charters?


--
Reggie

That's my story and I am sticking to it.

Reginald P. Smithers wrote:
Don White wrote:

JohnH wrote:


Well, when I come up for the ride on your boat, for how many months
should
I plan to be out???
--
John H



Maybe Chuck could set up a tour for the members of this newsgroup.
Half a dozen or more of us could fly out and 'charter' Chuck's boat
and services for the period. Of course he would give us a reasonable
rate and write it off as a working /business trip.

Does Chuck's insurance cover charters?


Wouldn't be an actual charter. Just Chuck inviting a few 'close
friends' for an outing ;-)

On Sun, 04 Jun 2006 16:26:06 GMT, Don White wrote:

Reginald P. Smithers wrote:
Don White wrote:

JohnH wrote:


Well, when I come up for the ride on your boat, for how many months
should
I plan to be out???
--
John H



Maybe Chuck could set up a tour for the members of this newsgroup.
Half a dozen or more of us could fly out and 'charter' Chuck's boat
and services for the period. Of course he would give us a reasonable
rate and write it off as a working /business trip.

Does Chuck's insurance cover charters?


Wouldn't be an actual charter. Just Chuck inviting a few 'close
friends' for an outing ;-)

Chuck probably wouldn't like political brawls on his boat either. I can't
think of anything that could be much more enjoyable than cruising around
Puget Sound for a month.
--
John H

******************************************
***** Have a Spectacular Day! *****
******************************************