My husband and I have a love/hate relationship with Port Neville.
We love it for the shelter it offers. Reaching more than five miles in from the open water, Port Neville is a welcome sight for us during the long trek up Johnstone Strait. Many times it serves as an essential duck-in when we feel the wind rising and seas steepening – or when we’re just too tired to go any further that day.
I also love Port Neville for the photographic feast it provides. Despite a considerable amount of logging over the years, the mountains and shoreline vistas around the inlet can appear sublime. There’s good paddling opportunities too, usually in calm waters, and an occasional bear to be seen on the beach.
But I confess: we have also grown to detest Port Neville. It’s because of what happens after dark.
You’d never know it from the photos I’ve taken, but once the black of night has closed around us, this seemingly tranquil “port” has become a whirling wind tunnel on too many of our stopovers. Despite dropping our hook in a number of different spots over the years, Port Neville has gifted us with long nights of anchor watches, worry and sleep deprivation.
Still, once daylight breaks again and that infernal wind drops, those golden moments can make Port Neville feel pretty mellow.
Even so, I’m not sure I want to hang any of my photos of this place on our wall at home.