BWSIn the slim flash of time before we
slipped into the pass, too far in to
change course now, a bald eagle set
to flight above us from its tree-top
perch on the southeast shoreline of
Mudge Island, dwarfed only by the
sudden acrobatic dartings of the crush
of swallows that flew overhead, oblivi-
ous in their whimsy to the weight of
our bravery.
Water chortled along the hull as
we graced our way into Dodd Nar-
rows. During the ensuing 20 minutes
we ghosted past rock bluffs that rose
around us, dappled with the gnarled
ferruginous limbs of arbutus treesgrasping outwards amidst thick
stands of virescent fir and cedar that
smothered the narrow shorelines on
either side of us to create a stunning
enveloping silence. Silence lay atop a
moving scape of west coast wilderness.
Into this silence, we sailed.
And then, we were through. We
sailed out of Dodd Narrows into the
protected waters of the southern Gulf
Islands. We did it. We had sailed
through our first ocean pass. As the
tension of the task slipped away, my
grip on the tiller relaxed and my eyes
took in the previously hidden trea-
sures of the islands laid out before us.The wind had dropped to a whisper.
Skibo sat becalmed. Michael and I left
our respective posts, stood together in
the embrace of Skibo’s small cockpit
and gripped one another in a thrilled
embrace. This was our victory.Kate Gilgan is a writer, mother and
hesitant adventurist. From a life aboard
their Contessa 26 to a rustic wilderness
cabin to life with two toddlers in Bali,
Indonesia, Kate and her husband Mi-
chael delight in family style discovery
and exploration. When not adventuring,
they live a quiet life in the mountains of
southern British Columbia.Skibo underway in Dodd Narrows; below, view of Gulf Islands from the south side of Dodd Narrows
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