{"id":29305,"date":"2026-09-01T19:57:27","date_gmt":"2026-09-02T03:57:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/?page_id=29305"},"modified":"2026-09-01T21:07:53","modified_gmt":"2026-09-02T05:07:53","slug":"sunday-at-the-arm-a-refuge-cove-pioneer-story","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/bc-waters\/sunday-at-the-arm-a-refuge-cove-pioneer-story","title":{"rendered":"Sunday at the Arm \u2014 A Refuge Cove Pioneer Story"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The rain arrived in sheets the day before they reached Teakerne Arm \u2014 the kind of Pacific Northwest storm that turns the sky to pewter and makes the granite walls of the Discovery Islands look older than time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Two boats pushed north through the chop: Marlin\u2019s Wake, crewed by Tom and Eleanor, and Blue Cedar, with Ray and Margaret aboard. Their dogs \u2014 Pip, a wiry terrier with more opinions than fur, and Moss, a gentle spaniel who disliked rain on principle \u2014 huddled under blankets as the storm hammered the canvas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The couples had been cruising together for years, but this trip was different. They\u2019d decided to spend a weekend \u201clike the pioneers,\u201d tracing the old rhythms of the Union Steamship era: anchor on Saturday, gather on Sunday, and provision at Refuge Cove just as the early families once did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The storm before the arm<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

By late afternoon the rain softened, turning to mist that clung to the cedars. The boats rounded the last point before West Redonda Island, and Teakerne Arm opened before them \u2014 a long, narrow corridor of stone and forest, its cliffs rising straight from the water like the walls of a forgotten cathedral.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Cassel Falls thundered in the distance, swollen by the storm. Pip perked up at the sound; Moss buried his head deeper into Margaret\u2019s lap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cLooks like the lake\u2019s overflowing,\u201d Ray said, watching the plume of white water spill into the fjord.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cPerfect,\u201d Eleanor replied. \u201cThe pioneers would\u2019ve loved this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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⚓ Anchoring like the old-timers<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

They eased into the anchorage pocket south of the falls, found the 12\u201318\u202fm shelf, and dropped their hooks. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The stern\u2011tie lines went ashore \u2014 Tom scrambling up the rocks with Pip trotting behind, while Ray secured Blue Cedar to a ring bolt hammered into the granite decades earlier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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By evening the fjord was silent except for the waterfall\u2019s steady roar. The storm clouds drifted away, revealing a sky streaked with silver.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The couples gathered on Marlin\u2019s Wake for dinner: salmon, potatoes, and a bottle of wine they pretended was \u201cpioneer rations.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Moss slept at their feet. Pip begged shamelessly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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They talked about the families who once lived in float houses, who rowed miles for Sunday gatherings, who danced on docks lit by lanterns and kerosene lamps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u201cImagine anchoring here in 1925,\u201d Margaret said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n


\u201cNo chartplotter,\u201d Tom added.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n


\u201cNo weather forecast,\u201d Eleanor said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n


\u201cNo hot showers,\u201d Ray finished, raising his glass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Sunday in the arm<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Morning arrived clear and bright. The waterfall glowed in the sun, and Cassel Lake shimmered above the cliff. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The couples hiked the short trail, dogs leading the way, and stood at the lake\u2019s edge imagining the early families who bathed, fished, and washed clothes here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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By midday they returned to the boats, raised anchors, and pointed their bows south toward Refuge Cove \u2014 the same route pioneer families once took for Sunday gatherings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Provisioning at Refuge Cove \u2014 then and now<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

Refuge Cove appeared around the point like a postcard from another century: weathered docks, cedar\u2011shingled buildings, and the quiet bustle of boaters arriving for fuel, groceries, and conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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The couples tied up at the dock. Pip and Moss trotted ahead, tails high, greeting everyone as if they owned the place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Inside the store, the shelves were a mix of modern necessities and old\u2011coast charm. The descendants of the pioneer families ran the counter, just as their grandparents had run the float\u2011camp supply boats.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Tom bought fresh bread. Eleanor found local jam. Ray filled Blue Cedar\u2019s tanks. Margaret chatted with the caretaker about winter storms and summer dances.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re here on a Sunday,\u201d the caretaker said. \u201cGood timing. That\u2019s when the old families used to gather.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Outside, a few guitar notes drifted across the dock \u2014 a boater warming up for an informal afternoon jam. The couples sat on a bench, dogs at their feet, listening as the music echoed across the cove.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

It felt like stepping back into the Union Steamship era, when the arrival of a boat meant news, friendship, and celebration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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Cruising back in time<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

As they cast off later that afternoon, Eleanor looked back at the cove.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s funny,\u201d she said. \u201cWe came here to feel what the pioneers felt. And somehow\u2026 we did.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Ray nodded. \u201cStorms, anchoring, Sunday gatherings, provisioning at the cove. The rhythm hasn\u2019t changed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Tom scratched Pip behind the ears. \u201cMaybe that\u2019s why this place still feels alive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Margaret smiled as Moss curled up beside her.
\u201cSome places don\u2019t just hold history,\u201d she said. \u201cThey keep living it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

And with that, the two boats slipped south toward Cortes Island, carrying with them the echoes of dances, steamship whistles, and the quiet resilience of the families who once called Refuge Cove home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The rain arrived in sheets the day before they reached Teakerne Arm \u2014 the kind of Pacific Northwest storm that turns the sky to pewter and makes the granite walls of the Discovery Islands look older than time. Two boats pushed north through the chop: Marlin\u2019s Wake, crewed by Tom and Eleanor, and Blue Cedar,…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":29365,"parent":2688,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-29305","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/P4nQeu-7CF","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/29305","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=29305"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/29305\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":29366,"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/29305\/revisions\/29366"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/2688"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/29365"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.eskimo.com\/~mighetto\/murrelet\/Wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=29305"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}