by Howard WhiteRereading this book after fifty-odd years, I was worried about what I might find. When I first read M. Wylie “Capi” Blanchet’s slightly fictionalized story of a single...
Foreword
by Michael Blanchet and Judy ReidThe author of this book, Muriel Wylie “Capi” Blanchet (1891–1961), was our grandmother, and we are delighted to endorse this expanded new edition from...
Author’s Foreword to the First Edition
This is neither a story nor a log; it is just an account of many long sunny summer months, during many years, when the children were young enough and old enough to take on camping holidays up the...
On board our boat one summer we had a book by Maurice Maeterlinck called The Fourth Dimension, the fourth dimension being Time—which, according to Dunne, doesn’t exist in itself, but is...
Lakes
Sometimes during the long summers we would get a longing to soak the salt out of ourselves. Charts are concerned only with the sea—they are not interested in what lies beyond the shores. They...
Shiners
I left the children lying on their stomachs on the float, fishing for shiners with thread and a bent pin. Shiners are little glittering fishes that like to congregate under wharfs or floats. They...
A Fish We Remember
We had tucked into the little cove at the north end of Denman Island for the night, with no intention of staying over the next day. We had made a fire on the northeast beach, the only place there...
Cougar
We never started off at the beginning of the summer expecting trouble or exciting things—at least, not after the first couple of years. Then, I think, we were looking for adventures. Later, when...
Desolation
We bucked a strong tide and west wind, and ran for ten hours that day before we finally turned in by Sarah Point. From there we set a straight course for Mink Island, where there is good shelter...
Mike
The first time we met Mike must have been the very first time we anchored in Melanie Cove. It was blowing a heavy southeaster outside, so we had turned into Desolation Sound and run right up to the...
I throttled down the engine, lifted John up on the steering seat, and left the boat to drift idly under his care, while the rest of us unrolled the chart and tried to discover just where...
Northward to Seymour Inlet
The end of July, we anchored overnight just inside the western entrance of Wells Pass, in Kingcome Inlet. We wanted to make an early morning run up the open coast to Seymour Inlet. The entrance to...
Sunday Harbour
Next morning we headed south. Great heavy clouds hung low and white, covering the still-sleeping hills and mountains like a downy comforter. Up we rose on the long swell, and then the smooth...
Karlukwees Village
It was dusk before we dropped anchor in Karlukwees Bay. It had been slow work feeling our way through the kelp-choked passages, and now it was too late to explore. Dimly above its shell beach...
The Skull
It was John who found the skull, or rather the bone that led to the skull. He was playing on the beach over in the corner near the waterhole, underneath a great old fir tree that grows on the edge...
Mamalilaculla
It was far too windy to venture up Knight Inlet that day. After studying the chart we decided to put in the time by wandering through the maze of islands over towards Village Island. There is an...
It was still blowing too hard for us to start on the long Knight Inlet trip, but it was time I got my crew back on camp fare. We had all just finished making up my mind that, unless the weather...
Fog on the Mountain
I suppose it is the confined quarters of a boat and the usually limited amount of standing room on shore that makes the idea of walking or climbing so enticing. Which, being so enticing, makes one...
Speaking of Whales
Where do you come from? Where are you going? I would wave a vague hand behind me. “Oh, from the south,” I would say evasively, or, “Oh, just up north—nowhere in particular.”What did it...
The Nimpkish
It was up near the Nimpkish River that I whistled the little duck to bed. John must have been very small that summer, for I had rowed him out to the boat to put him to bed. Friends had come over...
Engines
We had just got through Lewis Channel, between Redonda and the north end of Cortes Island, and had hardly worked round Bullock Point and got out of the tide which was bothering us—when the engine...
Old Phil
Phil Lavine, the old French man in Laura Cove, was full of calamities when we ran in to see him in July. He had had a bad winter. In the late fall he had something wrong with him, and had to go...
Coastwise
Someone at Bliss Landing, hearing that we were going up Toba Inlet, asked if we would leave a message for two brothers who had a small place on Homfray Channel, which was on our way to Toba. We...
We scoured the shallows for a month that summer trying to find a seahorse. It seems a most unlikely thing to find in this latitude; but I read somewhere that one species had been found as far...
Mistaken Island
It was a fisherman who led us through the reefs and hidden dangers into the little anchorage in the middle of the Winchelsea Islets. We had been hanging round the edge of the Gulf of Georgia since...
Trouble
It was one of those sudden unplanned things. I had called in to see some friends of mine on my way up from Vancouver, late in September. The weather had been perfect and I was reluctant to cross...
A Whale . . . Named Henry
The Coast Pilot at times either terrifies us or else gets us into trouble. Quite naturally, I suppose; for they have big vessels in mind—and what does or doesn’t do for a big vessel isn’t...
The Gathering In
You just said suddenly, “We’ll probably leave for home tomorrow.” You started off . . . and you arrived. It wasn’t really quite as simple as that. You probably decided suddenly because the...
Little House
I remember when we first found Little House, lying all by itself in the middle of the forest. It was June-time. Everything was covered with the roses in bloom—on the paths—in the...
Seven Acres
After a big storm we always had expeditions and explorings to find out how many trees had blown down and what had been cast up on the beaches—the choice depending on how strong the wind...
Taking the Caprice around the West Coast of Vancouver Island
For years there has been debate about whether or not Capi actually took the Caprice up the rugged, storm-and-fog-bound west coast of Vancouver Island. Well, she did, and she wrote this...
“Capi” Blanchet
Edith IglauerOriginally Published in Raincoast Chronicles 8One of the most insightful and best-researched character studies of M. Wylie Blanchet was written by journalist Edith Iglauer and published...
Capi’s Last Letter
Capi Blanchet kept up an energetic and elegant correspondence with her grown children and grandchildren as they dispersed around the world, paying scrupulous attention to their lives while saying...
About the Author
Muriel Wylie Blanchet (1891–1961) was born and educated in Montreal. At eighteen she abandoned a promising academic career to marry Geoffrey Blanchet. In 1922, the family moved west and settled...
