Here we were, The Big One (Part 2) – the journey home. For a dozen days in September 2025, the four of us (Mark, Ric, Vance, and myself, Cliff) took on the challenge of returning Tyra from the Broughton Archipelago to her home in Burrard Marina—a trip of nearly 250 nautical miles. We drove from Vancouver to Port McNeil and exchanged Raymonds car (he was kind enough to supply for the trip) for Tyra, the Viking’s cruise boat, to explore the Broughtons (a first for all of us), through the rapids of the Discovery Islands, back through the more familiar waters of Desolation Sound, then along the Sunshine Coast and the northern Georgia Strait back to Vancouver.
The Timeline: Port McNeil to Vancouver
September 5: The Preamble
The trip technically started with an early morning ferry from Horseshoe Bay to Nanaimo. After a hearty BC Ferries breakfast onboard, Mark took on the yeoman’s work of piloting us from there to Port McNeil, some 350 km to the northwest. After checking in with the first crew, who were busily swabbing the decks, we enjoyed lunch at Devil’s Bath Brewing, reviewing our potential route using their giant map. Then we picked up provisions at the IGA (in truth, mostly liquor from next door), and some last-minute additions to our wardrobes at the Second Look Thrift Store. Anticipating an early start on the morn, we slept onboard – nestled between the After Eight and a Klondike Ice-cream logoed yacht out of Big Lake, Alaska.
September 6: Nothing to See Here
We awoke to the sound of horns with fog all around. Anticipating it would burn off later in the morning, we chose to board a ferry to check out Alert Bay.
Along with the fascinating U’mista Cultural Centre, we were reminded of the bygone era when fishing and whaling sustained a thriving community, which once boasted “the most cars per mile of road”.
Back in Port McNeil late in the morning, despite the lingering fog, we decided to set off. Eyes peeled, we headed east for Farewell Harbour on Berry Island, forgoing a more ambitious trip north deeper into the Broughtons. As the fog burned off, we were rewarded with a plethora of life, including a close encounter with a Minke whale, its maw wide-open as it scooped up herring which boiled along Tyra’s starboard. Arriving at Farewell Harbour we again encountered the After Eight. Settling in, we could just spy the gigantic cruise ships bound for Alaska traversing the Johnstone Strait.
September 7: Silent Lucidity
After overnighting in the silent lucidity of Farewell Harbour, it was east again to Echo Bay on Gillford Island for lunch hook. While I am sure the place is bustling in the summer, it looked like they had just shut down for the season. For there it was on to Kwatsi Bay, past the waterfall that adorns the cover of recent editions of the Dreamspeaker guide to the Broughtons. Unfortunately, the afternoon potluck dinner in Kwatsi Bay talked about in earlier editions of Dreamspeaker is no more; instead, you are greeted with “Go Away” signs spray-painted on the dock.
September 8/9: A Tale of Two Ports
We pulled into Lagoon Cove Marina for lunch and, seeing salmon jumping, tried our hand at fishing to no avail. Indeed, Mark and I spent the next 20 minutes untangling the line. From there it was on to the working harbour of Port Harvey. There, floating work camps are prepared for use by the lumber and fish-farming industries.
The next day, Ric demonstrated his skills getting us on the dock at Port Neville in spite of inclement wind and current. The Port Neville general store, which also served as the first post office for the region, and the surrounding buildings have been preserved for tourists.
That night was spent at the Blind Channel Resort. We were joined for dinner by “Martini Mike”. He was heading south after single-handing his Beneteau from Seattle up to Alaska, thus anxious for company. He passed on a few of his wisdoms, including, “Do what you say you are going to do. Do it to the best of our ability. And don’t be an asshole doing it.” We wished him well for his “internet arranged” rendezvous in Campbell River at the end of the week.
September 11: Into the Rapids
After a trip up Frederic Arm for a hike and lunch drifting off Denham Bay, our calculations took us through the tidal Dent rapids past Devil’s Hole Whirlpool and into Big Bay at exactly slack current.
Unlike our predecessors two weeks earlier, we took our good fortune for granted and decided to take a short trip over to see the impressive Senora Resort.
After a quick chat with the girls who greeted us on the dock, we were shocked by how quickly the current had come up; a ten-minute trip over became an hour-long ordeal fighting past Whirlpool Point and back over to Big Bay Marina for the night (rumours have it an overnight at Senora will run you $1,200).
That evening, we chatted with Super Dave, a stunt pilot who flies for Kyle Washington in the summer and a Saudi Prince in the off-season. He regaled us with some awesome tales, which I will not repeat lest he get “disappeared”. This year, he is headed south, flying in Antarctica!
September 12: Desolation Sound
In the morning, we traversed Yaculta Rapids and then, following the Calm and Lewis Channels, a straight run to Lund. After a short stop off in Squirrel Cove (the Trading Post is awesome), we got into Lund before onshore dock space was all taken. While some restaurants were closed for the season, and despite the chaos of a wedding dinner, we were given the best seats on the pub patio from which to watch the sunset. After resupplying with drinks and fuel, we were ready for the home stretch.
September 13: Texada – The Working Man’s Island
I have often sailed along the vast expanse of the mighty island of Texada, making miles up the Sunshine Coast to the northeast or nipping in to familiar haunts such as Jedediah, Lasqueti to the southwest—this time we took in Texada, the largest island in the Salish Sea. Crashing through the fresh headwinds, first was a lunch stop in Blubber Bay, a whaling station that is now home to the island’s primary gravel docks – quiet on a Saturday. About halfway along the eastern shore is the Texada Marina that abuts the island’s largest town of Van Anda. There, at the Texada Island Inn’s pub, the four of us engaged in the longest pool game in history, much to the amusement of the locals.
September 14: Special Treat
In the morning, from Texada, we headed to Secret Cove and partook of their best-kept secret – La Bettolina. Mark and I had overnighted in Secret Cove two years ago. When he was making the moorage reservation, he was asked if he would like reservations at the Marina Cafe for dinner. “Why not?” said Mark. Upon arrival, we were shocked when fellow cruisers asked how we had managed to obtain such sought-after bookings, and then if we would be willing to share or sell our reservations. Later in the restaurant, we understood why. While pricey, we spent more on that dinner than on provisioning for the week, it is quite the experience.
Over two years and several attempts later, we managed to obtain reservations on the last night of their season – a table-de-haut five-course Italian repast, which featured a main dish of lamb served four ways. Delish.
September 15: Back to Ye Olde Stomping Grounds
The next day, we headed past the active sea lion colony of White Islets and into the familiar waters of Howe Sound, tempting fate yet again by traversing the shallows south of Gibsons. While familiar territory for three of us, it was great to witness through Vance’s eyes – the fascination of Gibsons memorialized in childhood memories of Beachcomber episodes – and the idyllic setting of Plumper Cove on Keats – being able to take a walk in the woods and a dip in the water on a sunny September afternoon.
September 16: Home Sweet Home
I must admit, after ten days of wilderness adventure, returning to the mayhem of False Creek, on a warm sunny afternoon, was a bit of a culture shock!
Closing Remarks
What a trip. Tyra, our home away from home, performed admirably. There are a lot more photos and videos to share, but I’ll leave it here for now. All this to say, ten days of rapids, wildlife, and great company made for a rewarding getaway. The Broughtons really felt like an expedition, despite the charts, the mist, rapids and plethora of passages made us feel like explorers – absolutely incredible. 💯would recommend!
