| West Wight Potter Owner's Home Port __________________________________________________________________________________________________ |
Back
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
THE BEAR'S BACK COVE STORY
Inukuk Point
Coming down from the northeast the breaking waves ahead of me proved to be the homes of boulders to
avoid. I was now sure of where the entrance should be. I’d been advised correctly but still couldn’t see the
opening. It surely was hidden unless you knew it was supposed to be there. “Supposed to be,” hung in the
mind’s air, unsuspended. The sun sparkled on the seas, a gentler wind held in the shelter of the island.
Peapod was pushed toward the shore of the island. Straining to see, I gave it up, lowered the sails and got the
binoculars out before starting the little Honda.
At dead slow, I snaked Pea pod through the boulders. I was again grateful for the crystal clear water that let
me see the boat eaters. They went hungry that day as the way opened before me. I had found the very narrow
channel between gravel and rocky banks that led into the cove. Proceeding very carefully through the
entrance, I suddenly saw a small Inukuk on the eastern edge of the stone littered shoreline. It had been built
too low for it to be easily seen helping to keep the opening hidden. Boaters are building Inuksuk in league
with ancient Inuit who marked places of rest, good hunting, portage trails, and simply to be a friend to the
travelers in the wild lands.
Easing gently into the cove I mentally marked its dimensions. Eight feet wide and into a bowl-like pool,
shaped like a child’s bent spoon, it appeared to be about forty feet in diameter and maybe three feet deep.
The bottom was littered with logs, tree trunks, branches and minnows over sand. It was still as a mill pond and
open a tiny bit to the northwest. I wondered how safe it would be in a northerly blow. The shoreline didn’t
show any wave action residue so I figured the worst might be a rise in water level of a few inches when the
water was forced into the pool. I stepped out of the cockpit when the motor was set to neutral. Peapod nuzzled
my flank and the shore weeds came to the water’s edge. They were a bloom of colors, a riot of colors, a variety
of plants, all wild and all gorgeous. There were ox-eyed daisies, asters, white field daisies, tick weed, some
rushes, Wake Robert, Queen Anne’s lace, rushes, sedges and grassy seed heads of wine burnished copper
tossing in the breeze that didn’t even ruffle the water.
After setting the bow anchor in the sand ashore, I set up the rode on the side cleat leading back from the bow
chock. This lets me adjust where the boat floats from the cockpit. I can let out scope and haul Peapod into or off
shore at will. The Potters are beachable with two flat “runners” molded into the bottom. Otherwise her hard
chine hull is mostly flat. I don’t like to let the hull scrape or grind on the sand, plus I like to have her off shore
at night to help keep critters like raccoons or mice or bears away.
I had lowered and set my stern anchor about half-way across the pool as I came in. It set well in the sandy
bottom but I wasn’t sure about the logs and branches. I walked out across the pond-like cove and double
checked the anchor’s position. I got lucky when it fell in an opening between two logs and the chain draped
neatly across one of the logs. It was in good position for security and retrieval. I double checked the stern
cleat where I had tied the rode. I stripped off my clothes and took up the mask and snorkel to explore the pool
and swim. I wanted to see the entrance better.
The bottom was not so soft nor so sandy as I got nearer the entrance. The gravel deposit increased in size and
so did the stone sizes. There were a million zillion minnows and a few signs of crawfish. When I drifted over
the entrance the depth in the middle of the vee it was as deep as it was wide, somewhere around eight feet. It
shoaled in a gravelly sand bank to three feet or less as the pool opened up. The sides of the vee were steep to
and gravel mixed with stones, some of fair size. There were granites, gneiss and limestones among others.
The water was a much loved color of teal mixed with dark marine blue almost the color of old glacier ice. I
swam out into the boulder field where the warm pool water ended in some much colder temperatures. The
boulders were mixed and of various colors. Water action was apparent as there was little slime on them. It
was very beautiful but I was ready for some hot tea by then so swam back to Peapod.
I had my tea and a snack before going ashore on foot to see what I could find. There was a campfire ring in the
trees on a bed of limestone, all carefully laid in neat interlocking rows. Out on the shore was another fire pit
somewhat larger and totally exposed to the weather. The wind had increased while I was having my afternoon
break. I went back into the cedars and wondered around wondering if we were in for a blow or storms.
Thunder storms are not uncommon in the warm months of summer up in the North Channel. “The cove would
be a fine place to wait out a storm,” I thought. “All these trees are far taller than Peapod's mast, and there is
wind protection all around.”
That night I awoke to shushes of wind in the fir trees and slashes of rain on deck. The awning was rigged as a
cockpit tent. It drummed with rain. Peapod gently rode the gusts. I slept on until morning. It rained hard all
night, and was still pouring down. I read, napped and watched the storm. It was an intense low according to
the AM radio report I was able to get on my tiny multi-band radio. The next day it backed to the northwest
and the rains quit. Then the wind really piped up. I was careful to keep a sharp eye on the anchors just in case
I wasn’t as protected as I thought. It turned out to be useless worry.
The trees heaved, and swept the sky all day, creating the noise of wind in the wilderness. I double checked to
be sure I wasn’t in the path of a falling tree! From time to time I would hear a tree crash or a big branch fall
down in the old forest of the un-logged island. I never saw a tree come down but I sure did hear several. I
hiked parts of the shoreline and built a sturdy Inuksuk higher up on the rocky shores using limestone slabs.
The little man figure pointed to the cove entrance. I tried to hike along the shores around the island but found
the slabs too unstable and wobbly to go far. I didn’t want a turned ankle or broken one, thank you!
Waves beat the shores in loud explosions yet the surge into the cove was stopped dead by the sand in the
pool. Peapod tugged at her lines gently. I took another nap smiling myself into a snug sleep. I ended up
spending three nights secure in my little cove where a blue heron fished twice a day and ignored my boat
and me. A king fisher used a nearby tree to sit on between dives for minnows. Bullfrogs croaked at evening
time. It was a good place to ride out the squally weather.
Anne Westlund
westlund@lighthouse.net
