Bishop Bay Hot Springs

Sunday, June 29, 2008: Bishop Bay Hot Springs at last, to Lowe Cove


Marilyn in the inner sanctum of the hot springs

No one at the small dock. We tied up to a little nirvana. A little makeshift enclosure around the hot tub with ropes and small buoys to hang onto and gingerly let your body down into the purity of water’s warmth.

But first, outside on a small, quaint deck, facing the bay with tree boughs overhanging and a bench, the base of which reads ‘silent partner’ is where you wash, shampoo, drink in the coolness of the view. Calm waters, reflection, greenery to soothe. Enjoy the pool inside look out through narrow openings onto the bay. Feel the body let go. Breathe deeply. Watch the swallows dive and the seagulls circle.

The sun is hot and our bodies are rejuvenated. Time for an Indian Pale Ale on board—with lime—and a lettuce-avocado sandwich, cherry tomatoes, cherries. And of course a second beer for the ever-thirsty el Capitan. What happened to water when you are thirsty?? Andy jolly Capp!

"There’s an eagle!" I said. "There are two." High up they perch. Watching the seagull flying low over the water and small fish ripple in front of its path. Then comes the eagle. HUGE. Claws outstretched as it nears the water, as if to put on screeching brakes. It’s wings almost perpendicular. Pow! It gets a fish—maybe? Then up to the heights with the seagull squawking and after it. What an audacity. All noise though and seemingly little steam or precedence.

"Time to go!" Russ said. There are other boats coming and the dock is small.

The sailboat Tangleberry calls us on the radio.

"I’m Graham Shannon. I designed your boat."


Graham Shannon, designer of our yacht Zulu and wife, Shirley, on Tangleberry

Come about and hold up alongside. How amazing to meet the designer of our boat—a one-off design—and out in the Canadian wilderness. He was tall and slender with a snow-white beard and a twinkle of wisdom in his eyes and lines of experience and a smile of accomplishment looking at his handiwork. His smile was constant. A man of the sea, long-sleeved shirt and pants—protection against the sun.

He oversaw A&B Boat Builders build our boat. "They did a jolly good job, eh?" He sang out in the Canadian lilt.

"This is my wife, Shirley."

She was a young and pretty oriental lady. She smiled and took pictures of Zulu. I did, too, of Tangleberry.

"We’re also going to Alaska." Graham said. "We’ll see you along the way."

We sailed away waving on this day of chance meeting.

The mountain snowcaps glistened in the sun, as if softening, melting, and the rock faces wept. Russ brought the boat into the face of a waterfall, cascading down broad angled rock faces—86ft of water below, who knows how many feet above. We tallied awhile in neutral—silent—listening to the sound of water falling. Cleansed.

What is the difference between a sound, a channel, a passage, a reach, and inlet, a bay, a cove. We came up Fraser Reach to Ursula Channel to Bishop Bay back to McKay Reach across Whale Channel to Grenville Channel.

Time for a cup of organic mint mélange tea as I think it through. Russ sips his tea.

"I feel like I’ve gone years for just a day like this!" he said with a sense of fulfillment.