Of course, that short trip came with drama. What started as a calm sail quickly turned into a full-on retrieval mission when our dinghy wheels went overboard. Of course, the wind decided to ramp up to 25 knots just as we tried to fish them out. Yes, we had all the sails up. After 45 frantic minutes, we managed to retrieve the wheels—along with the realization that if either of us ever goes overboard, we’re probably not getting rescued.

Late-night goat calls, chonky feral sheep, and an abandoned homestead. Jedediah Island is one of those remote anchorages in BC that feels like it exists outside of time. For anyone cruising the BC coast, it’s an unforgettable stop.

Ah, slow mornings with coffee and a book, long beach days, sunset views while gently bobbing at anchor, and wrapping it all up with a beach fire. Just another day in paradise, right? Old salty sailors say cruising is about sacrifice over comfort. They’ll tell you about surviving a summer in the Sea of Cortez with nothing but a spray bottle and a fan. Instagram definitely tells both stories - the luxe sunsets and the down and dirty boatwork.

We may have lingered in town a bit too long. By the time we got back in the dinghy, the wind had picked up and the bay had turned… sporty. One of us bailed water as waves poured over the sides, while the other tried to steer around the worst of it. We arrived back at the boat soaked and salty. Lesson learned.

British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast and Gulf Islands offer some of the most underrated sailing anchorages on the Pacific Coast. While many cruising guides highlight dramatic destinations like the west coast of Vancouver Island or the glacier-fed inlets of Alaska, savvy boaters know there’s something special about these more sheltered local waters.

We left our anchorage the morning after a lively carnival celebration—slightly hungover but eager to sail. A nine-hour, 30-mile trip south sounded like the perfect hangover cure.

“Apparently Cabo Corrientes can be a little sporty,” I said, reading from the cruising guide while we sat at anchor in Chacala. The bay was calm and still, with hardly a ripple—hard to imagine anything “sporty” about it. “Tomorrow looks like a good time to go.”