Our journey from Vancouver to Telegraph Cove took us through part of the Inside Passage. Our daily hops were dependent on the current, leading to some early mornings and a few long days. Mountains on both sides made it a very scenic voyage. Each night we'd find a little bay to anchor in, sheltered from the north westerlies and roaring tides.
We left Vancouver at 6 am to make the most of the tides. After a full day of sailing we stopped at Scotty Bay at Lasqueti Island. This community revels in its isolation. There's no car ferry, and life there is off the grid. I'd have loved to explore, but our visit was short and sweet- supper, sleep, then up anchor and off towards Texada. Here we had a wonderful surprise- a humpback whale. She was quite a distance away, and soon swam off on whale business. We pressed on, entering Quathiaski Cove but leaving without anchoring- the wharf looked busy and though it is possible to anchor here, the strong current rushing through made us feel that Gowlland Harbour, a few miles to the north, would be more secure.
Gowlland Harbour was very pretty, and is somewhere I'd love to go back and spend more time. There was a healthy seal population, who spent their time in pursuit of the plentiful fish. My harbour seal sightings have usually been sedate, so it was exciting to see them porpoising out of the water and splashing about. I also saw my first loon, with graphic black and white plumage. I made a quick sketch with the help of binoculars- one day it will become a larger painting! Legend says that Loon lost her voice when she tried to steal the sun back from the ice giants. Her throat was crushed as they threw her from their frozen fortress, and to this day she cannot sing but gives a haunting cry when the sun goes down. The sun was finally rescued by that trickster, Raven, whose white feathers were burnt black in the attempt. Loon appears on the Canadian dollar coin, which is affectionately known as a loonie. There seem to be less puns about this than I would have thought.
My sketch of Gowlland Harbour was hastily done, and resulted in a splodgy mess which at least captures the colours of the golden islets. These were named with a sense of whimsy- Mouse Islets being the smallest, working up through Wren and Raven to Fawn, Doe and Stag. I think a return to this lovely sheltered anchorage is in order.
On we went, through the treacherous Seymour Narrows (less terrifying in these days of GPS and tide tables). In the Johnstone Strait we met another humpback, who was in an acrobatic mood with a series of breaches and tail slaps. Then he got in motion, but didn't seem to be on a schedule. Prism ticked along at her lowest speed and we enjoyed half an hour of hanging out with the whale, who would pop up at varying distances, sometimes swimming parallel to the boat (at a nicely whale-friendly distance).
The wildlife watching continued at anchor. We stopped in lovely sheltered Billy Goat Bay, and watched seals jumping and hunting as the sun went down and the temperature dropped to the stage where I don't have enough jumpers to stay outside.
We were then able to wind down a bit. We were almost at Telegraph Cove, and had a couple of days to enjoy the area. The region around Johnstone Strait and the Broughton Archipelago is paradise for whales, and today we were not disappointed. Five humpbacks were swimming through, seeming relaxed and in no rush to be anywhere. They took turns surfacing, so there was usually someone on the surface. It was hard to tear ourselves away, but lunch was calling and we wanted to see if the orca were in Robson Bight Ecological Reserve. The pod was there- along with some fishing boats. Tourist and recreational boats are not allowed in the reserve- but purse seiners are, if they have a permit. We saw the orca hunting- then were shocked to see two purse seiners pay out their nets just a short distance away. The orca vanished and I was fuming, my sketch of the bight abandoned half way through. We turned of the engine to sit and eat and rant. We drifted a few metres over the edge of the reserve- keeping to the boundary seemed less important now that we'd seen people taking fish from the whales' mouths and I was too angry to care about regulations. But other people did- a zodiac with two wardens arrived to ask us politely to move. We moved- politely- whilst making our displeasure at the fishing known. The reserve feel like a bad joke. I abandoned my ideas of sketching orca as inspiration hit. “The race to catch the last fish” became a theme for a series of paintings- with ideas for more to come.
On our first night we found a secluded anchorage where I finally heard Loon's mournful farewell to the sun. The next day we passed the First Nations settlement of New Vancouver with its Big House and brightly painted totems. Continuing on to 'Mimkwamlis (Village Island) we stopped at Mamalilikulla. This was a walk through history. The village was abandoned by 1972, left for the forest to reclaim. Massive posts for an unfinished long house still stand, vast trilithons staring out to sea, the decorative axe marks still clear in the wood. Two standing poles have nursed new trees, the old life giving way to the new as roots grow down through the ancient trunks and aged wood splits from the pressure of the vibrant life growing within. Nearby, a fallen totem provides a home to ferns and saplings, its carvings now unrecognisable as it returns to the earth.
Jim told me of a wolf carving he remembered from younger days. I set off down a narrow trail, between the salal berries and the brambles. The trail narrowed , closing in, the blackberry-rich scat of a large bear warning me to go no further. If the wolf was indeed this way, prudence suggested I left him and his guardian in peace.
I didn't make the trek to the residential school, a relic of the days when native children were torn from their families, banned from speaking their language, barred from the dances, stories and rituals of their culture. First Nations artifacts were stolen along with the children, scattered between private collections and the museums of the world, relics of a culture being slowly strangled. I preferred to sit quietly with those huge beams being reclaimed by the forest. They gave me more hope. They belong to their people once again, and they are home to Bear and Raven through choice, part of a tradition where old things are allowed to fade and join again with the soil. The village may be abandoned but the people are nearby- with their brightly painted Big House and their colourful, confident totems carved with pride.
I painted the view, then crunched along the shell-strewn beach to the dinghy. As well as the shells, this midden was full of shards of crockery and broken glass. It's forbidden to take anything or excavate, but interesting to see what has floated to the surface and wonder what stories they could tell if they could talk. Above the beach, wooden poles are all that remain of an extensive boardwalk which would once have stretched in front of a row of longhouses.
We launched the dinghy and were rowing away when I saw something black moving on the foreshore. The bear was foraging for supper. She was big- grown fat on her summer diet of seafood and berries. She turned over hefty logs and big rocks, intent on gobbling the crustaceany goodness underneath. Sometimes she'd hear our oars and look at us, but we were of no concern to her and she continued munching her way along the pebble beach. Jim thought the water was a decent barrier between her and us and kept trying to get us close- so near that I could hear her snuffling- but I did point out that, because of the way he angled the dingy, I was closer to her than he was! With a bit of encouragement and the threat of no dinner if he didn't behave, he finally paddled us a little farther out. Oblivious to all this, the bear continued to ignore us until the beach ended and she padded off into the forest, perhaps to rustle up some berries for dessert.
The next day, Telegraph Cove was just a short skip away. We were given a berth on the fuel dock, tucked out of the way of the busy tour boats, then made the most of fresh carrot cake and the chance to catch up on laundry before we caught the bus down to Parksville to see Jim's mum and enjoy a family wedding.
When I was asked if I'd like to test and review the full range of Van Gogh watercolour paints on behalf of Royal Talens North America and Doodlewash, it was a bit like Christmas had come early. Van Gogh are made in the Netherlands by Royal Talens. They are intended for 'the serious artist', filling a niche for affordable quality paints that are less expensive than their Rembrandt Professional range but of a higher quality than student paints. I received an empty 24 pan plastic palette and 40 pans of colour. The brown box of delights caught up with me on Island Prism during our family invasion of Telegraph Cove, and the family were happy to help me unpack.
First out of the box was the plastic travel palette. This is sturdy (an essential feature as it will be spending its life on a boat), and I found the curved design very appealing. The mixing area is large, and easy to clean with a cloth or by gently detaching it at the hinges to rinse. Like most plastic palettes, it gets stained by a couple of the pigments, but the marks are easy to remove with a tiny bit of cream cleaner. The sponge is a nice feature- perfect for removing excess moisture from a brush.
I'm inclined to keep this as a studio palette rather than using it out in the field. There's no thumb hole or ring, suggesting that it's intended for table-top use rather than to hold. The palette is a bit on the large side, although that is one of the things I really like about it. The size allows the colours to be nicely separated, reducing the chance of the pans contaminating each other. The pans are a little loose, and fall out if the palette is carried on its side, though this is easily solved by popping a bit of blu-tack on the bottom (I'd imagine double sided tape would work too). If I was looking for something to carry in my bag all the time, I'd pick the metal palette or pocket palette also available from Royal Talens.
Fifteen of the colours are single pigments. This means that the colour is pure- ideal for mixing. The remaining shades are created from two pigments. Potentially this increases the chances of creating muddy colours when mixing, as it's best to have no more than two or three pigments in a mix. However, Royal Talens have thought carefully about their pigment selection- for example, the blended yellows and greens mostly use PY154, giving a good success rate when it comes to mixing these together. I was also happy to find that the viridian and phthalo greens are both single pigment, meaning I could use these as a base to mix more realistic shades from.
I was very happy with the overall results. Most of the colours were bright, intense and translucent. After moistening them, it was easy to lift pigment from the pans and quickly get a rich colour. The yellow ochre and red iron oxide were opaque, as was the cerulean blue. This last pigment was made from phthalo blue blended with white. Although the pan had a slight white bloom when wet, the paint didn't appear chalky on paper. The colour is very intense and needs to be well-watered down for skies. The one disappointment was the phthalo blue pan, which produced a faint and insipid colour, although the Prussian blue made up for it with its warm intensity.
Once I'd tried out the shades individually, the mixing fun could begin. As I often paint the ocean, landscapes and wildlife, I wanted to make sure that I could mix a good range of greens and obtain mud-free neutrals. I started off by choosing some of the primary shades to make triads and see what happened as I mixed them together. Then I moved on to some less orthodox groups of three. I was delighted to find that the Prussian blue and burnt sienna created a wonderful sea foam green, and raw sienna made great greens when mixed with viridian or cobalt.
I was extremely happy with the results- these paints let me create bright secondary colours, and I was also able to make gorgeous grays, rich browns and beautiful deep blacks. It's great to know that I'd still be able to mix a huge range of colours even if I was using a more limited selection of pans.
Then it was decision time. I loaded the palette up with the two single pigment yellows, and azo deep was a must-have as it's the same colour as the boat! Permanent red light created some beautiful warm and cool greys when mixed with different blues, and I'd fallen in love with the gorgeous quin rose and permanent red violet. Of course, I needed a good selection of blues and a few convenience greens, then raw sienna and a range of browns.
Finally the really fun bit- painting! First I tried the paints out on a pair of hummingbirds and a duo of seals. The paints flowed well, kept giving me the clear bright colours I expected from my trials and were fun to use. The browns gave me a little granulation in the kelp, and the colours of the hummingbirds glowed.
I then put them to the test in my Fabriano watercolour sketch books, colouring some whales I'd drawn. Viridian and madder lake deep created great blacks for the orca, whilst Prussian blue, phthalo green and indigo gave me the perfect shades for the ocean. The following day I took the set outside to paint as we cruised through Green Point Rapids. I mixed up a wide range of greens from viridian. The paints layered well without creating mud. I did fall into the trap of over-saturating the sky when I failed to water the cerulean down enough, but that was user error!
In conclusion, I was very happy with the results I obtained from the Van Gogh paints. Their quality pigments, uniform price and high lightfastness make them a fantastic starting point for students, beginning artists or for artists on a budget. They are far superior to any student line I have tried, which are often weak, chalky or impure. The use of standard artist quality pigments also means they will behave well with other artists' watercolour ranges.
I really enjoyed the range of colours I could fit in the 24 pan, but the ease of mixing means that even the smaller travel set is very flexible. I'm not about to cast aside my Daniel Smiths (their vast range of pigments and beautiful granulating paints mean they're still my favourite), but Van Gogh does represent a vastly different price point and makes quality watercolour very affordable. I'm certainly going to enjoy playing with this set more in the future (and have in fact reached for it quite a few times whilst preparing this review)!
Whilst I was given the paints to review by Van Gogh, I have not received any payment in return for testing them. The opinions contained within this article are wholly my own!
You can find out more about Van Gogh paints here on the Royal Talens North America website.
They are available from art stores including Opus, Amazon and Dick Blick.
Victoria is often described as being the most English of all Canada's cities. It definitely retains a strong British colonial feel, evident in the architecture of buildings like the Empress Hotel. There is a wealth of things to sketch, but my time in Victoria was busy and my sketchbook mainly stayed in my bag. Instead I painted my way through a pair of exciting commissions, and filled in a pile of much less exciting paperwork.
I managed a couple of quick drawings of the little water taxis which ply the harbour and the stag which reclined on the front lawn. One day we cycled into the city, past lovely beaches and views across the Juan de Fuca Straight to the USA and snow-capped Mount Baker. Once upon a time Mount Rainier was visible too, but is now unsketchable- Bill said that these days it's always obscured by Seattle smog. In the heart of Victoria I made the most of a five minute break to sketch the state legislature, and grabbed time for a few quick drawings of the totems by the museum downtown. A young heron in the park modelled for me beautifully, though the older birds in the nest above made me nervous- the white state of the pavement suggested that I shouldn't linger too long.
I managed to snag a few hours to visit the annual Moss Street Paint Out. The entire length of this street is closed to traffic for the day, as cars are replaced by hundreds of artists, many of whom were painting in situ. Maybe one day I can join them!
I knew I hadn't given the city justice, but I'm sure we'll be back and perhaps then I can explore more thoroughly. After dinner with Peter, Jen, Bob and Leslie- four cruisers who we first met up in Tofino- we hauled the anchor and sailed overnight to reach Steveston, just south of Vancouver. The grand plan was to be there for breakfast with Harold and Dan, two of Jim's favourite partners in crime.
Currents provide the greatest challenge to cruising between Vancouver Island and the mainland. Vast quantities of water enter the straits between the two land masses- and then gush out again when the tide changes. It's a bit like the passes of Polynesia's atolls- if there's too much water going the wrong way, you're going nowhere fast, as demonstrated by our experience the week before near Race Rocks. Jim had checked the currents and tides before we planned our departure. But the best laid plans can go awry- we thought we'd get a nice push as we sailed out of Victoria, but the current was no help and we pottered along at our usual 5.5 knots. Shortly after entering Active Pass the current was against us, and we had to hug the shore and use back eddies to make progress. Our chances of making breakfast became increasingly slim.
Things didn't get any better as we made our way to the Fraser River. Herons, eagles and seals provided a much needed mental boost as we struggled along, rearranging social engagements and wishing we'd had more sleep. Finally we chugged into Steveston's marina, tied up and went to find Dan, Diane, Harold, Jenny and some much-needed caffeine.
Steak pie and coffee at the Buck'n'Ear soon perked me up, and Diane managed to sweet talk the waitress into bringing me a pre-birthday slice of sticky toffee pudding. The British pub grub left me feeling appropriately ship-shape and Bristol fashion, and we had a great catch up, reminiscing about the various ways Jim, Harold and Dan got in trouble back in the day (thankfully they have Diane, Jenny and I to help them behave themselves now).
Steveston was a great town, with charming buildings and lovely walking along the dyke trails. We ended up extending our stay another night so that Jim could go and get into more trouble with the boys and I could stop and sketch. The buildings were tempting but the dykes really caught my imagination, with beautiful wildlife, intensely-coloured plant life and wide blue skies. Mountains fringed the flat landscape and I was spoiled for choice of what to draw!
Casting off the mooring lines, we headed north to Vancouver. This time the tides were on our side and Prism reached 9 knots as she smoked along the Fraser River. From there we puttered through English Bay to False Creek where we would be anchored for the next few days.
Vancouver is a vibrant city. Like any place with a large population, there are places you don't want to venture on a dark night (or even a moderately gloomy day), and the signs of homelessness and drug use were heartbreaking. But Vancouver has a lot of good points. Like Auckland and Sydney, you're never far from the water and there are lots of charming, arty neighbourhoods. And art stores. Yes, I was happy. We moored Prism at Granville Island for three free hours, had lunch and found the art store.
All too soon, it was time for Jim to drag me out of Opus (an art store big enough to get lost in). We motored a little further and dropped the anchor just a short dinghy ride from the city. Perhaps not the quietest of anchorages, but the traffic noise was tolerable and we enjoyed watching the daily parades of water taxis, dragon boats, kayaks, seals and floating barbecues. It was easy to get ashore and the city has a great bus network, so our first expedition was to the Museum of Anthropology at the university. We spent hours in the Great Room alone, surrounded by incredible First Nations carvings and learning about the history of the west coast. It was a sketching paradise!
Jim's niece Katherine and two of her friends joined us for the Symphony of Fire. This is an annual competition where three countries explode things to music over three nights. We motored out to English Bay. There were hundreds of yachts already at anchor, and a number of people who thought they owned the entire bay (“You can't anchor there! Your mast will get in my photos even though I'm a huge launch and tower above your deck!”). Eventually we dropped the hook and fell back to a spot where we were not annoying the overprivileged too much. The fireworks were spectacular, ranging from exuberant to beautifully subdued depending on the music. My favourites looked almost like leaping fish, with pretty showers of glitter a close second. I've come a long way since I was a small child who used to cry at the noise!
I was also lucky enough to meet Bob Altwein. He's a local urban sketcher who had offered to show us a bit of the city- he's also a very kind and knowledgeable man, and fascinating to talk to. He introduced us to Jesse, who is 24, not at all Millenial and sailing his 19' sailboat round the West Coast. We enjoyed dim sum, then a leisurely drive around the neighbourhoods of Chinatown and Strathcona. Cantonese-style buildings made Chinatown feel like I was back in Hong Kong, and Strathcona had a great feeling of community. The residents have worked hard to regenerate this area, which is green and full of neatly painted heritage buildings. We had coffee and delicious bakery treats at the Union Market- and were amazed to find that this charming little cafe and grocery was also very reasonably priced. No wonder it was busy! Jim and Jesse talked about sailing whilst I drew the cafe and Bob drew me. We were having so much fun that we invited Bob and Jesse to help us move Island Prism over to the Vancouver Rowing Club, where we were going to enjoy two nights of hot showers and Stanley Park.
After mooring and a hasty change of attire, we met Diane for a pre-birthday dinner at Prospect Point. It was a lovely evening, the mussels were amazing and suddenly we were the last diners in the restaurant.
The next day was my birthday- the dawn of a new decade (I think I'm still in denial). We celebrated with an adventure to Whistler. The drive along the Sea to Sky Highway flew by with an endless procession of gorgeous views. In Whistler, we bought lunch from the grocery store to eat on the mountain. $58 let us explore the lofty heights by gondola and chair lift. The views from the top were stunning on such a clear day, and the suspension bridge at the peak emphasised quite how high up we were. The Peak to Peak gondola took us to Blackcomb, with a great vista of the lakes and little town nestled far below us. It's almost tempting to come back in winter- so long as I don't have to ski. Jim also wants me to tell you all about the white wine cocktail he bought me. Bright pink and in a glass as big as my head- I was merrily 'trundled' (to quote my hubbie) as we got the bus back to Vancouver.
Stanley Park was our only real disappointment. On our previous visit I'd loved the totems and we'd spent a great day exploring. It seems like summer at 10 am is not the time to go- the tourist hordes had descended with selfie sticks in hand and all atmosphere had vanished. We cycled away from the crowds, but you're not allowed to pull over on the cycle path and take photos, even if no other bikes are coming (really- I got yelled at by a custodian when I tried). We didn't want to cycle the whole of the park but the entire cycle system is one way. Eventually we braved the custodian's wrath and peddled the wrong way to the Aquarium and its beautiful Bill Reid Killer Whale, before making our escape back to Prism and returning to the relative calm of anchoring at French Creek. At least the only people yelling at us there were the geese. A visit to the art gallery to spend a few hours gazing at Emily Carr's beautiful paintings was a good antidote to park insanity, and soon it was time to begin our journey north, up to Telegraph Cove.
The Broken Isles are aptly named. There are certainly plenty of them, nestled together as if a butter-fingered giant dropped a larger land mass from above, then left the shattered pieces where they lay. This creates a sheltered cruising ground, and a great area for rowing and kayaking.
We took Island Prism into Effingham Bay on Effingham Island. The bay was a sheltered chip in the island's east side, shared with a couple of other boats and a very curious hummingbird, who returned numerous times to inspect us, my bike and the rigging. It also seemed to develop a fascination with the fire extinguisher in the galley, and I was worried it might have formed a bit of a crush. The anchorage was calm, and if the forecast of strong north westerlies was correct, we didn't notice a thing.
Jim had declared the Broken Group to be rather dull, but I think this trip changed his mind. Seals regularly came into our little bay, and our excursions in the dinghy took us to tiny islets teeming with starfish, mussels and sea birds. Exploring the south east coast of Effingham took us to an enormous sea cave, dripping with lush green ferns. We discovered rock arches, and found the site of a First Nations village. The shoreline in front of it was studded with tide pools, and I spent a happy hour reliving childhood holidays to Tenby, looking for fish, anemones and crabs.
It was then an easy cruise to Bamfield. This remote community is only accessible by boat or logging road, but is worth the effort. An inlet splits the east and west halves of the village. With no bridges, the endless flow of weaving boats and water taxis keeps the community stitched together. We called in at the East Arm to top up with water and grab some provisions, then took Prism round the corner to peaceful Grappler Inlet. We dropped the hook near to the jetty and enjoyed watching herons, eagles and river otters from the comfort of our cockpit. This was Jim's departure point when he and Island Prism left Canada back in 2007. It is also home to his friends Cliff and Laura, who waved him off on his voyage and were now waiting to celebrate his return.
We enjoyed great company for four days. From Cliff and Laura's elevated deck, we watched black bears foraging on the shoreline and eagles perched in nearby trees. We walked to a stand of pristine forest and paddled kayaks around the inlet, enjoying home smoked salmon after our adventures. Laura and I visited Kixiin, the remains of a First Nations village at Execution Rock. Our native guide, Whisky, shared the history of the site. His chants brought the past to life, and his commentary was interesting and insightful. He showed us fallen house posts and conjured back the long house, the whale chief's house and the dramatic events of bravery and betrayal which took place over a century ago. The Huu-ay-aht Nation places great value on their history, and is also playing a central role in the regeneration of Bamfield after many of its key businesses were purchased and run down by an unscrupulous businessman. The tour is currently complementary- you can find out more at kiixin.ca/
South of Bamfield lies the Graveyard of the Pacific, final resting place of scores of ships battered against this inhospitable coast. Once again we thanked modern weather forecasting and GPS- we had a smooth passage, where the only excitement took the forms of seals and sea lions. The dramatic currents of the east coast began to make themselves felt- passing Race Rocks took half an hour as we battled a strong current, finally finding the back eddies that allowed us to make progress. We'd been hoping to anchor in Oak Bay, but the anchorage was taken up with mooring buoys and it was hard to find a suitable spot. A kindly local pointed us to a sturdy buoy which would be vacant for the rest of the week, so we tied up and dinghied ashore to spend a week with Jim's brother Bill.
Victoria is often described as being the most English of all Canada's cities. It definitely retains a strong British colonial feel, evident in the architecture of buildings like the Empress Hotel. There is a wealth of things to sketch, but my time in Victoria was busy and my sketchbook mainly stayed in my bag. Instead I painted my way through a pair of exciting commissions, and filled in a pile of much less exciting paperwork.
I managed a few quick drawings of the little water taxis which ply the harbour, the stag which reclined on the front lawn and the young heron we saw in town. I made the most of a five minute break to sketch the state legislature, and grabbed time for a few quick drawings of the totems by the museum downtown.
As World Watercolor Month Artist Ambassador, I've created two new tutorials over at Doodlewash. Create colorful summery cards using a wet-in-wet technique or learn about value and make mini landscape paintings. You can read the tutorial over at Doodlewash- click the banner above to get there! Keep the kids entertained this summer or get inspired yourself!
This is also the last day I'll be donating 10% of all sales to the Dreaming Zebra Foundation- visit the Store section of my website or click the button below to make a difference and bring art and music to kids who need them!
Depending on your hemisphere, your kids are either enjoying long summer holidays or a chilly, soggy winter... what better way to keep them entertained than by playing with watercolors?
I've put together a tutorial for a fun color mixing activity that will help your kids learn basic watercolor techniques as they explore a magical underwater world- and there are ideas for expanding the activity too. You can check it out on the Doodlewash website
If you want to help disadvantaged kids to access their own creativity, as an Artist Ambassador for World Watercolor Month I'm giving 10% of all sales in July to the Dreaming Zebra Foundation. Treat yourself or a friend at my Etsy shop- and help change a child's life!
Our sail from Ucluelet to Tofino was more of a motor trip. We peered through the thin shroud of fog as Prism rolled over the Pacific swell. Amphitrite Lighthouse was glowing away, a reassuring supplement to the clanking navigation aid and our trusty GPS. As visibility improved, we could see the stretches of golden sand that form a series of surf beaches, separated by rocky headlands. Mist hung about them even as the sky cleared- the spray tossed up by the rolling breakers obscures these beaches slightly no matter how bright the day is.
I was hoping to see a sea otter, but Jim told me this was very unlikely, These shy creatures were slowly building up their population on the west coast, but didn't venture as far south as Tofino. We turned away from the Pacific to begin our approach, past the lovely Chesterman Beach, where houses cling to rocky peninsulas, perfectly placed for storm watching in the winter season. I saw something in the water. A seal? Or a sea lion? It looked pretty big. Jim passed me the binoculars- the long whiskers, golden sideburns and characteristic incredibly cute floating-on-its-back pose were unmistakable. It was a sea otter! It watched us as we motored into the island-filled inlet leading us to the town.
We'd been assured that there would be space on the public dock, but this turned out to be rather optimistic. Once again we needed to raft up to another boat. The visitor's pier, E dock, housed two other sail boats and a flotilla of small craft. Slowly cruising past, we confirmed that there were indeed no spaces, but some of the small boats didn't appear to move much- we could raft up to the cruising yacht at the end of the dock, move a small barge and create enough space for Prism to fit in, out of the currents in the channel. I checked the depth sounder and started to turn. Nothing happened.
Jim told me I was stuck- but the depth sounder showed 2.5 meters of water beneath us. We draw less than two meters so there shouldn't have been a problem- but Jim was right. Whatever the depth sounder was telling me, I wasn't going anywhere.
Jim tied a line from Prism to the dinghy, hoping that we could pull Prism off the sand bank. Rowing gave him a great workout, but Prism couldn't be persuaded to leave her nice comfy sandbank. There was nothing to do but wait a few hours for the tide to finishing ebbing. Slowly and gently, Prism laid down, much to the entertainment of everyone on the dock. Cooking became interesting as we heeled over. The rice worked fine, but as the gradient of the stove grew steeper, I found myself having to hold the frying pan to stop it slipping off- and even then it was impossible to get an even heat. It was not my most successful curry ever, but thankfully it was vegetarian, and eventually I decreed it to be warm enough to eat.
Time passed, the tide changed, and we slowly worked our way back to an upright position until we were finally afloat. I was glad it was dark, though I'm sure my cheeks were glowing as we took Prism in to the dock. The other liveaboard residents were waiting to help us with our lines, and to share stories of their encounters with my little sandy hillock. Thank you Bob, if you read this, for helping my poor bruised ego!
Safely moored on the public wharf, we were able to set about exciting things like taking warm showers (at $1 for 2 minutes, I may have achieved a new personal best for speed showering). The weather was wet, but this isn't unusual on the West Coast, and the town and its surroundings were still beautiful. I was excited to find that Tofino now has an art supply store, and once I'd purchased some much-needed paper I wandered around the downtown galleries to absorb some creative inspiration.
Built out of cedar, the Roy Henry Vickers Gallery is an olfactory experience as well as a visual one. The rich, warm scent of the wood greets you as soon as you open the doors. Inside, benches and sunken seating throughout the long house invite visitors to linger amongst the artwork, and massive wooden carvings enhance the indigenous setting. My favourite paintings are Vicker's sunsets, often complete with his magical 'shadow images'- shimmering designs which appear as the viewer walks past. These shadows often depict native imagery, and add a spiritual side and a sense of history and culture to the wonderful land and seascapes. Just down the street, the Mark Hobson Gallery delights in realism, full of hunting eagles, luminous waves and twisting seaweed. Photographing the work is encouraged, and Mark was there, apron on and paints set up, hobnobbing genially with visitors.
Tofino is relatively bike friendly, and when the sun came out we decided to make use of the multi-purpose path that heads out of town to the Botanical Gardens. Around the cafe are pretty cottage-style flower beds and a community garden, along with a beautiful lily pond. The garden path soon enters woodland, full of native trees and plants. As the forest grows denser, the trail becomes a boardwalk, full of little side paths with views over the Clayoquat Sound. The tide was out, but the sun had transformed the mudflats into an expanse of sparkling silver, with stripes of vibrant green seaweed and blue water. We found a pebbly beach to enjoy the vista whilst hummingbirds and dragonflies buzzed round us. Finally hunger set in, so we returned to the cafe and munched croissants whilst listening to a talented jazz pianist.
Jim's brother Bill drove out to join us on Prism. His car gave us all the chance to explore further, so we made expeditions to Chesterman Beach, Wickanninish, Combers Beach and the suitably named Long Beach. Bill and I walked along the sand whilst Jim rode around on his little fold up bike, which worked really well on the hard sand close to the water. The ocean spray cast its usual magic, reflecting the sunshine and creating a light mist across the golden sand. We strolled the length of the beach and crossed the headland to poke around the bustling tide pools of Combers Beach, which were full of darting scalpins, lumbering crabs and a host of colourful starfish and anemones. We could have stayed there all afternoon, but hunger set in so we drove to Ucluelet for a late lunch.
After five blustery days, the weather calmed. We provisioned up and took Prism out to spend a few days on Flores island. We motored through swirling mists and thick fog, thankful for our GPS which let us know exactly where we were. Strong currents ran through the maze of channels. They played havoc with our speed, accelerating us to six knots before slowing us down to four. It didn't matter- the sun was slowly increasing the visibility and we were too busy watching the jaunty flocks of rhinoceros auks and looking out for sea otters to mind a little bit of a slog.
Five otters later, we turned into the long inlet which cuts into Flores Island. A few small fishing boats whizzed past us and a sea plane buzzed overhead. We passed the little village of Ahausat, with its century-old general store, and poked about the various arms of the inlet until we found a place to anchor. It was a secluded spot- away from any signs of habitation. The ravens greeted us with a chorus of 'ki tok's, and the bald eagles seemed to be giggling about something, as bald eagles often do. Our hopes of seeing bears at low tide were not rewarded, but a seal came to visit and one of the eagles gave us a display of how to fish bird style.
Bill and I tried to follow a walking track through the woods. We were well-armed with bear bells, a bear horn and bear spray (which apparently ISN'T for helping to style their fur). Sounding a bit like Santa's reindeer, we jingled our way along a twisting trail which was a clamber rather than a walk. Over and under fallen trees, through swathes of sticky mud which tried to steal my boots- it felt a bit like we'd fallen into 'We're Going on a Bear Hunt'. Eventually we decided we'd had enough of scrabbling through the mossy forest and bushwhacked through to the beach. This was slightly easier going, though the muddy patches shared the kleptomaniac tendencies of their forest cousins and insisted on trying to relieve me of my footwear. We crossed the foreshore and wandered through crab-infested grass to a shallow lagoon where three herons were keeping their eyes open for afternoon tea. We called for our taxi (also known as Jim in the dinghy), and tried to wash off the worst of the mud before we returned to Prism.
The calm waters created a great place to row. Our inflatable dinghy is a little cumbersome as a row boat, but we were still able to poke around in hidden corners and paddle up to the mouth of the tumbling stream which entered the inlet. The clear water gave us a great view of the fishy denizens of the inlet- presumably it helped the eagles too. We all enjoyed the slow pace of life for a few days before returning to busy little Tofino. Once again, the sea otters were out in force. Most of them stayed away from Prism and her rumbling motor, but a few came close. One was busy tucking in to a tasty breakfast of red rock crab, and another was having his morning wash, bobbing along on his back as he scrubbed his whiskery face with webbed paws. A third surfaced a few meters in front of Prism. She was just drifting along in neutral, but the otter quickly turned tail and dove. 14 tons of sail boat was not what the little creature had been expecting.
Our return to Tofino was much less eventful than our first arrival. We tied up to the dock, offloaded crew and took on ice and vegetables. Soon Bill and his little blue electric car were speeding off towards Victoria. Jim, Prism and I were heading that way too- at a more leisurely pace and via the islands of the Broken Group and the inlet of Bamfield.
Don't forget- July is World Watercolor Month and as an Artist Ambassador I'll be giving 10% of all sales to the Dreaming Zebra Foundation! You can view prints, bags, notebooks and original artwork at Andrea England Art on Etsy. Sign up for my newsletter to stay informed of blog updates and arty happenings!
Occasionally, you get to a place and feel like it resonates with something in your soul. Cornwall, Winchester, the Tutukaka Coast and Tofino have that effect on me. I soon felt the same way about Ucluelet. Friendly folk at the Small Boat Harbour, an artsy vibe round town and an abundance of great walks and beautiful views- it's not hard to see why the place caught my imagination.
The West Coast of Vancouver Island is known for its wet weather. It's still beautiful in the rain, with its misty greens and subtle greys, and the rain tends towards a steady drizzle. Very English, really. Mostly, though, the sun came out for me, and I made the most of it, leaving Prism at the marina whilst I hit the Wild Pacific Trail
The trail is in two sections: a loop at the very end of the peninsula and a return track further on. The loop takes in the aptly-named Inspiration Point, Amphitrite lighthouse and a fascinating section of bog, full of twisted trees, thick pillows of moss and sinister sundews just waiting for bugs to fly into their sticky clutches. I love carnivorous plants! The trail was easy, with plenty of viewpoints and lots of information about the flora and fauna. Most of the signs were close to the correct plants, so I soon learned to tell the difference between deer ferns and sword ferns, and could pick out the skunk cabbages- which thankfully had not yet reached pungent maturity.
Plenty of sketch breaks and a few side trails meant it took me a while to complete that section of the trail. The next day I got up early to complete the second section, starting with a peaceful stroll along Big Beach, where I was soon distracted by the lush seaweeds and a crow trying to smash open a tasty bivalve. Having the beach to myself, I tried painting the hazy light and vibrant golds and browns, until I'd filled a spread of my sketchbook and realised that I'd been there over an hour. Time often stands still when I'm making art.
The trail led me through a resort, to beaches strewn with enormous logs carried in by the waves and bleached to bone white- skeletons of the giants of the forest. I followed a series of Artists' Loops, with plenty of benches and viewing platforms over the pebbly beaches and pounding waves. Even on a calm day their power sent spray flying. I could see why storm watching is a popular winter pastime here- though not one I'd like to try from Island Prism!
Of course, it would have been rude not to make the most of the sketching opportunities so kindly provided, and I was keen to try and paint the wonderful light and the many shades of green. My palette holds some lovely mineral greens- green apatite, serpentine, amazonite and jadeite, but I found I was reaching for my blues and quin gold to mix my own. It seemed the best way to capture the distance, depth, light and shade; after years of being a lazy colour mixer I felt redeemed.
Time check- almost three. I completed the Ancient Cedars loop and was determined to make the Rocky Bluffs which mark the end of the trail. This was well worth it. The waves grew wilder and the vistas back down the coast were expansive and impressive. My pen was running out of ink, my water brush was down to its last dribble having already been refilled, and my water bottle was also down to its last few sips. The trail halted and I turned around, pausing only briefly to enjoy my favourite scenic spots and photograph a few banana slugs- which are indeed banana yellow and seem to get browner as they get older. Unlikely as it sounds, the native slugs are rather interesting- including the implausibly athletic-sounding jumping dromedary slug, which presumably are the ninjas of the slug world. They certainly had stealth mode enabled, as I didn't see any.
Ucluelet held indoor attractions too. The Mark Penney Gallery held some beautiful work, and Mark was happy to talk me through his latest work in progress and give me tips on how to paint realistic reflections (in the reflection, the lights are darker than object they're reflecting, whilst the darks are lighter than on the original). Wonderful First Nations creations filled the Cedar House Gallery, and next door the Den housed a studio and a small shop filled with prints, jewelry and weaving. I fell in love with a tactile weaving which was taking form in the studio, and with difficulty tore myself away from the squishy balls of locally spun wool available in the shop. Crossing the street, we moved from art to natural history and entered the aquarium. The fish are all local and everything gets released at the end of the season; fish, octopus, scallops and sea urchins all return home and the aquarium is scrubbed, cleaned and closed until the spring. The staff were all young and very knowledgeable and enthusiastic, answering my questions about sea pens and jellyfish. I watched the wolf eel devouring crabs, tickled a sea anemone (which grabbed my finger with its sticky tentacles) and stroked a starfish- it always amazes me how hard their pillow-like bodies actually are.
We spent the whole afternoon there, with Jim making the most of the well-stocked reading corner whilst I sketched and sketched and sketched. My pen ran out of ink- then committed hara kiri by throwing itself nib-down onto the floor. I managed to straighten it but it wasn't quite the same. Closing time was near, so we thanked the staff and wandered back to Prism.
The weather forecast ahead was poor, and if we wanted to make it north to Tofino we needed to leave before we faced thirty knot headwinds (no thanks). Classic Ucluelet fog and drizzle had moved in, which made the place soggier but gave it a mysterious beauty. I finished a couple of loads of laundry, splurged on a pair of slippers for my poor chilly toes and completed a watercolour sketch of a fishing boat in the mist. Then we cast off from the boat we were rafted to and motored through the thick, still, chilly air to the open ocean, once again watching the bald eagles who soared above the boat.
After three weeks at sea, a hot shower becomes the embodiment of paradise. So it was with great excitement that I grabbed a handful of loonies (Canadian $1 coins) from my loony (erm, I mean from my loving husband) and strode out into the cold armed with towel, shampoo and shower gel. The marina showers cost a dollar for 3 minutes, so I decided to splash out on 6 minutes of delicious hot water, with funds for three more lying glinting on the bench. My dollar coins plunked into the shower timer and I turned on the shower in anticipation of deliciously hot water. What I received was a spurting, irregular gush of liquid just a few degrees off being ice, before turned into a jet of air. I spent three minutes of frustration turning the shower off and on, fiddling with temperature and willing the universe to miraculously fix the only working shower in the marina. Sadly, the universe was otherwise engage. The three minutes were over, my second dollar gone without trace, and I had no option but to rerobe and slink away just as dirty but slightly colder than I was before.
Thankfully Jim had seen a gym nearby. For $4 I could luxuriate in their showers for as long as I wanted. It was the best $4 I'd ever spent, and half an hour later I felt like I had rejoined the human species. Soon our laundry was similarly fragrant and we were ready to pack for our trip to Coombs the next day.
Coombs' main claim to fame is 'Goats on the Roof', a great market with eponymous ungulates. Nearby live Jim's sister Lorraine and her husband Tim, on a lifestyle block with two horses, six sheep, a pair of Portuguese water dogs and an aging cat. Evenings were spent outside, barbecuing and sitting by the fire watching eagles and hoping hummingbirds would flit by the feeder. Expeditions into Parksville gave us the chance to see Jim's mum, catch up with our friends Dan and Diane and organise all those essential modern life things like cell phones. There was lots to sketch too- wildlife, mountains and beautiful birds of prey at the wildlife rescue centre.
The rescue centre is home to animals from all over Vancouver Island. Most of the residents are out of sight- the centre aims to rehabilitate and release where ever possible, so it's vital that the animals don't get too used to humans. Cameras let us spy on the family of black bear cubs, and peepholes into a large aviary allowed us to watch recovering bald eagles who will one day soar the skies again. Two black bears and a number of birds were permanent guests- either too used to humans or too badly injured to be returned to the wild. Owls and hawks looked snootily down upon us, whilst the ravens and blue jays seemed as interested in us as we were in them. Jim's attempts at chatting to the ravens didn't go down well. I wonder if he was swearing by mistake. I made the most of the chance to sketch these birds close up.
Back in Coombs, the owner of the General Store mentioned that he was looking for a piece of art to hang on a nail by the entry. I showed him my watercolour of a Bald Eagle over Mount Arrowsmith, and it was deemed nail-worthy- so if you're heading to Goats on the Roof this summer, make sure you pop in (the Coombs General Store is in a gorgeous heritage building and owner Dale is lovely).
We had a wonderful week of great company, fantastic food (thank you Tim and Lorraine!) and hot showers. But we also had the West Coast of the Island to cruise, so boarded the bus for the beautiful drive back to Ucluelet and Island Prism.
July is World Watercolor Month and I'm an Artist Ambassador for the event!
*Paint a watercolor a day, using the prompts below or your own ideas
*Draw in ink first, use pure watercolor or experiment with mixed media techniques
*Try a limited color palette to develop your mixing skills as you work through the month
There are no rules- paintings can be as big or small as you like. 31 paintings seems too much? Make each picture just a couple of inches tall, perhaps cover a larger sheet of watercolour paper with 31 rectangles or put 6 squares on each page of your sketchbook. Too busy? Why not try a painting every other day or just pick your favourite prompts! Share your work on social media with the hashtag #WorldWatercolorMonth.
As well as encouraging you to get your paints out, World Watercolor Month aims to bring creativity to everybody by supporting the Dreaming Zebra Foundation. For the whole of July I'll be donating 10% from all sales from my Etsy shop to Dreaming Zebra, providing art supplies and classes to children who would otherwise be unable to access them. Choose from original artwork, prints, cushions and bags- and support a great cause!
You can also support Dreaming Zebra with a limited time purchase from the Doodlewash store, including a range of studio pouches from the seven Artist Ambassadors.
An Artist Afloat- Painting the world one anchorage at a time.