We all have our cruising shortlist. Those familiar spots that we visit over and over again, sometimes by intent or convenience, other times by tractor beam happenstance that feels almost like destiny. It all comes together to create a kind of mystique around your favorite stops.
Among mine are Prevost Harbor on Stuart Island, Shaw Island’s Parks Bay, and Medicine Beach at the north end of Bedwell Harbour (when conditions cooperate). For me, though, Winter Cove in British Columbia’s Gulf Islands is at the mountaintop. I just love it. It has wound up on many of my itineraries over the years. It always delivers, and I can’t wait to go back.
Winter Cove is situated at the north end of Saturna Island, formed by Saturna and the southern end of small Samuel Island. It has excellent protection—as its name suggests, this is a solid choice if hunkering down for an offseason blow. It’s not quite as ideal in a hefty northwesterly. My affinity for this place is hardly rocket science or an original idea. It’s a beloved spot for good reason. But I still get to claim it as my fave.
The surroundings are tantalizing. Private homes flank the southwest shore but have never seemed too present in my time there. Gulf Islands National Park Reserve land begins on the southeast shore. To the east is Boat Pass—a narrow rapid leading to the Strait of Georgia. The Samuel Island shore on the northeast edge is private with no shore access, but appears essentially uninhabited from the cove.
As with any great local spot, there’s a bit of… intrigue. For its quality protection, there’s quite a lot of room here, though it’s not all advisably anchorable. Thanks to Boat Pass, through which currents can pump with staggering churn, there is often substantial current effect throughout Winter Cove. Flow is predictably strongest in the northeast portion of the cove, where there are reports of currents exceeding 4 knots. Between the fast-moving water and a few rocks on that side, you’ll seldom see boats anchored there if given the choice. Throughout the cove, it’s common to see boats pointing every which-way. With little breeze and swirling currents, you’ll want to ensure you’ve actually got the swing room you may need. And swirl they do—if you think even a small raft-up won’t spin if you only throw out a single stern anchor, you will be mistaken. Ask me how I know.
The cove is quite shallow throughout, with Navionics showing the vast majority of the depth in the range of 6.6 to 16.4 feet. At middling tides, the sounder has typically read 12 to 15 feet when I’ve dropped anchor. It keeps scope and swing to a minimum. Thanks to the limited depth, the water will warm a bit if you fancy a swim. The shallows extend farthest out on the south shore, and the pair of rocky shelves that flank the park’s dinghy dock can sneak up on you. Portions will dry at low tide. Don’t get greedily motivated for dinghy dock proximity.
Light cautions aside, it’s an easy anchorage. I’ve always found good holding, and there is lots of high-quality room. I’ve only been in the cove one time when it felt even moderately crowded, though it can get very busy at times. The National Park ashore is home to an annual Canada Day Lamb Barbeque, during which the cove can host more than 100 boats. Even at 35 boats, the most I’ve seen, it feels well-populated but entirely manageable. If you’re lucky, you’ll have the experience I’ve had on my last few visits, peering into this sweet little bay after staying north of Minx Reef on the way in, to find with elation that there are hardly any boats in there. I’d estimate I shared Winter Cove with fewer than a dozen boats on my last few visits. When it’s fairly empty like this, there’s oodles of room to spread out.
The aforementioned dinghy dock is your access point to the truly wonderful park. The large grassy area that’s home to the big lamb bbq has been a perfect venue for lawn games with cruising pals and 48° North Rally goers. Park infrastructure includes picnic tables and a bank of (notably clean) pit toilets.
In just about a mile on the figure-eight trail heading east from there, you experience a number of different microhabitats, from boggy saltmarsh to the rocky outcropping near Boat Pass, the familiar madrona forest along the Strait side, and deeper evergreen woods as you turn inland and make your way back. It’s lovely.
If you’re like me, you’ll wile away most of your time on this little hike marveling at Boat Pass. There’s a wide, undulating area of rocks to scramble over or sit on to watch the water and ask yourself… “Could we make it?” The wisdom is generally that you shouldn’t try to find out. From shore, I’ve watched a few fishing vessels power through there at 20 knots with the evident confidence of local pros. The pucker-factor is high even as an observer. In a sailboat it’s a pretty hard “no,” though it is hypothetically doable at high tide slack if you watch out for the rocks on the northern edge outside the pass.
If you’ve stared at the rushing water of Boat Pass to your satisfaction and want a bigger walk, I’ve strolled the island roads that lead all the way around neighboring Lyall Harbour Bay to the southwest. There’s some good blackberry picking as you go, if the season is right. Partway, you’ll encounter the Saturna General Store. It can be good for a cool refreshment if it’s hot, or a warm one if chilly. You’d have to schlep back your wares, but it’s a great little grocery story. On one Winter Cove stay, my pal Peter and I found ourselves well-stocked with scrumptious steak for dinner, but had a dreadful dearth of red wine to pair with it. Off we went for an adventure to the General Store, and we were even generously given a ride by a kind Saturna resident along the way.
If you continue on this walk far enough, you’ll be rewarded with the Saturna Lighthouse Pub near the ferry dock at Saturna Point. It could have simply been a walk-generated appetite—it’s a little over 3 miles to the Lighthouse Pub from Winter Cove—but I remember it as a damn fine burger and a view to match. A dinghy excursion would be your more direct route to the pub, just under a mile-and-a-half each way.
Winter Cove is an underrated sunset spot. Looking on the chart, it’s not really open to the west so it might not seem like it. With the sun in its summertime position on the north side, though, it’s a remarkably full display over Minx Reef. Some of my all-time favorite island sunsets have been enjoyed here.
The twilight hours are particularly magical in Winter Cove. If you’re anchored just so, you can have an unobstructed view to the ethereal city lights of the Vancouver metro in the distance through Boat Pass, the moon rise on the opposite horizon, a speckling of early stars, and the first glowing bits of bioluminescence rippling off your gently bobbing dinghy. Taking in the last light with friends on a trusty vessel in this little nook has given me more “This is why I do this” feelings than anywhere else.
Winter Cove is a near-perfect islands stopover. It’s serene and feels secluded and a-world-away, while remaining fairly accessible both in its location as well as the skill or luck it takes to have a good experience there. As is often the case, when you start visiting somewhere regularly, your connection to the place deepens and the draw to return again gets even stronger. It begins to feel like it is your spot. Or at least, as Winter Cove is for me, your favorite one.
Joe Cline has been the Managing Editor of 48° North since 2014.
