Jean is the 80-year-old owner of Lagoon Cove.  Or as noted below, the almost former owner now that Jim Ryan has bought the property and will run it as of approximately September of this year.  She and her late husband, Bill, acquired this property back in 1992 and have built it and the great reputation it enjoys today.

Ann and I had the very good fortune of being able to chat with her yesterday and learn a little bit about her life.  Jean insists that Bill was the entertaining one but we were mesmerized.

I can’t do justice to the whole story since I wasn’t taking notes, but we were enthralled.  So here’s a sketch of what we learned, with the caveat that it’s our interpretation, not a fact-checked bio.

Jean was born in Romania and emigrated to the US in 1951.  At the time – post WWII with the beginnings of the Cold War well under way, Jean’s father correctly realized that unless they wanted to endure under communist, or as Jean noted what they called at the time Bolshevik, rule they had better emigrate.  As Jean tells it, they left Romania  in 1946 for Switzerland from which they could seek the required sponsor who would give them the ability to seek citizenship in the US.  It took four years in Switzerland before they found a sponsor.

At the time of their voyage to the US, Jean was 16 years old and the only member of her family of eleven who spoke English.  So at 16, she became the family translator, getting them processed through Ellis Island, into New York, and on a train to Cincinnati where their sponsor lived.  We clearly understood Jean’s family’s good fortune when we heard her tell that her sponsors were from the Taft and Chase families.  Taft and Chase as in relatives of the former president and of the financial empire.

But the sponsors, while generous people to be helping immigrants who were looking for a better life, obviously weren’t providing long-term support.  For that of course her father needed a job and Jean told of going with him to job interviews where she translated between her father (who was a woodworker and builder) and the prospective employers.  In one such interview Jean told of the prospective employer’s objections. “Why should I hire you?  You use metric measurements and tools, and you don’t speak English so we can’t tell you what is to be done”.  His response, “You have blueprints don’t you?  I can read blueprints”.  After more objections her father finally said, “It is Friday.  You are looking for someone on Monday.  I will come in Monday with new tools and you give me the blueprints of what to build.  If at the end of the week you are not satisfied with my work, you do not have to pay me and all you will be out is for the materials I use”.  He not only got the job but he built a successful career there.

We heard so much other fascinating detail of a family who came here with nothing and built successful lives through hard work and determination, that we just had to get the thread of the story down so we can share at least a very small portion of a wonderful person’s fascinating story.  As Jean self-deprecatingly told it; “But, you know, everyone has a story”.

Getting here looked like it was going to be another one of those “character building” voyages, somewhat like the rapids we have occasionally traversed on our way north.

On the chart, you can see a very narrow, three mile long traverse from Havannah Channel, where we were, to Minstrel Island and another very narrow channel called “Blow Hole” (more on that one in a minute) that drops you right in at Lagoon Cove.

The first channel is called Chatham Channel.  On the chart it is about 1/16″ wide  😉  and looks terrifyingly narrow.  Well, it turns out to not be as bad as it looks.  We went through a little before slack low tide with depths of around 24 feet (the current gets up to 5 knots at max tide – almost fast than Charisma can go).  Although you could see rocks and mud flats on either side, there are “ranges” at both ends and as long as you keep them carefully lined up, you have no problem although I still breathed a sign of relief as we exited the channel into deeper, wider water.

Then there’s Blow Hole.  Sounds much more ominous.  As we turned the corner from Chatham into Blow Hole we could see numerous rocks jutting out and a blast of wind hit as if a warning shot across the bow.  However after some light hyperventilation I settled down and worked our way through.  Again, not a big problem, you just need to pay attention.

Some character building navigation, but at the end, like the proverbial rainbow is the treasure of Lagoon Cove.

Couple days ago we made the move from Matilpi to Lagoon Cove.  We wanted to get to Lagoon Cove because everyone we’ve talked to says it’s “classic Broughtons”.  A low key, family run establishment that exists because it caters to folks cruising in these waters.  The issue though has been that there have been rumors it is closing.

Let me be clear to any cruisers reading this.  LAGOON COVE IS OPEN AND DOING WELL.

Now that’s covered, here’s the news.  Jean, the 80 year old owner has found a buyer and is transferring ownership as I type this.  The good news is we have met the new buyer – Jim – and he is a wonderful man with a vision of carrying on here as it has been in the tradition of Jean and her late husband Bill.  And it’s going to continue to be family run.  Several of Jim’s children (in their 40’s) are going to live here and run it while Jim and his wife with stay involved as well.  And rest assured they are still doing a daily prawn feed and pot luck that everyone comes to at happy hour!

Ann and I spent an evening with Jim just talking about his plans and it sounds like this place is in very good hands.  An extra bonus on our evening – Jim and I played some music down on the dock with an audience of some of the cruising folks here (spoiler alert: those present said we should put out an instrument case so they could make donations for the entertainment so I guess we did OK)  Turns out Jim plays a mean banjo.  In fact he also made it himself.  It’s a beauty.  I won’t go into detail although it deserves it, but suffice to say, for the round body, he repurposed an old antique “grain measurer”.  Apparently this is a circular wooden box, joined with copper “clinch nails” that he cut in half to make two banjos out of.  It’s a work of art.

We didn’t play together.  Turns out his banjo is tuned differently that my uke and he is taught in an Appalachian style of finger picking (think the soundtrack to “O Brother Where Art Thou”).  He therefore doesn’t read musical chords.  I am too novice to play by ear, so we did the next best thing.  He would play a song from his repertoire (he’s been playing for something like 17 years) and then I would play a song from my songbook/binder I have put together and he would sing along with me.  Other’s joined in when they knew the words and we all had a good old time down on the dock in the twilight singing and just enjoying being out here in the land of eagle, salmon and bear.  And that’s what this is.  While there is a pier here with a dock, couple sheds and a house, most of the rest of the island is pure forest.  In fact, a sow grizzly was seen here with her two cubs a week or so ago, so we have been taking our noise-maker, air horn and pepper spray on our hikes.

Fun, fun, fun!