I paddled past all the beaches along Cow Bay and checked out the ones we passed up on the way out. Some of them looked quite nice, and other people seemed to agree with me. I counted five groups of kayakers camping in this stretch. Plus a few cabins, one of which had a yacht parked in front of it and a dingy hauled up the beach.
Past Cow Bay the coastline became rugged again. Not as spectacular as some we had seen but a pleasant place to explore on a warm sunny morning. I stopped at a sandy cove on the southeast corner of the island to explore a dry cave I saw. The cave dropped down to the water on the other side of the point, so I paddled around to see it from that side.
I was supposed to meet the rest of the group at Ahouse Bay on Vargas Island in the evening, so I turned away from Flores Island and started island hopping across the Russell Channel. Some of the larger islands here are First Nations property and we are not allowed to land there. But one small rock, called Whalers Islet, did allow camping. I crossed over to take a look at it. This islet turns out to be two rocky outcroppings with a huge sand dune trapped between them. I paddled all the way around the island looking at the camping options. If you don’t mind sand there is room for several large groups! This island was supposed to be a popular spot and we expected it to be crowded but it was empty when I saw it. Perhaps it is crowded evenings.
I landed and walked around the island and did not see a lot of marks in the sand. I chose the campsite I thought was the best. This was such an interesting place, I wished I could contact my friends and suggest we stay here the night. I climbed up on one of the rocky outcroppings, ate my lunch and got out my VHF radio. Before I could make the call, I thought I could hear voices coming across the water but dismissed it. Then when I made the call, I discovered that everyone else was nearby, coming to explore this island as well. They were shocked to hear me suggest that we camp on a sandy beach! When they landed for lunch, Don Fleming fell in love with Whalers Islet and agreed we should camp there.
Unfortunately one kayaker was missing. Ken Kelton had gone off on his own and would be expecting to meet us at Ahouse Bay. We looked up and LO! There on the horizon was Ken’s red kayak sail. Since I was rested, I jumped in my kayak and zoomed off to intercept Ken before he went around the far side of Bartlett Island. I told him the new plan and he turned to go to Whaler Islet.
Since I was now spitting distance to Bartlett, I decided to mosey back poking along the northeast shore of this island. When I had seen all I planned to see, Don Barch appeared. It turned out he was the only dissenter and was upset that everyone was quitting half way through the day and settling down. He wanted to continue paddling and convinced me to come with him the rest of the way around Bartlett Island. We went across the south end of the island, through the rock gardens we had seen days before, and back across the north side I had just seen. By then my shoulders were sending disturbing messages to me. Pushing through the thick kelp the last few hours was stressing my shoulders and making them feel like I had a bruised rotator cuff. It even hurt a little while doing the normal forward stroke in clear water. So I turned back towards camp, only slowing down to circumnavigate one more small islet on the way. Don was disappointed to not do anymore paddling and moped around camp all afternoon in his wetsuit as a protest.
Only one other small group of kayakers came to Whaler Islet that evening. We watched one of them catch a huge salmon from his kayak. He invited us to come help eat it. But by the time it was ready we had already eaten a large meal and we were not much help. I did have some so that I could “taste the waters I had been paddling in” and thanked my hosts for that.