Why Jedediah Island is a Must-Visit for Adventurers

It took us two tries to get here, but it was worth every minute.
July 10, 2025

Our First Attempt? Let’s Just Say… Goats: 1, Us: 0

Jedediah Island has been on our “must-visit” list for years. The first time we tried, it was December. We were on our way to explore the Broughton Archipelago and figured we’d anchor for the night at Jedidiah.

Big mistake.

The weather turned, the waves kicked up, and we spent the whole night rolling with zero sleep. Couldn’t even get the dinghy off the roof. I remember staring at those goats on the cliffs in the morning, swearing they were laughing at us. “Nice try, landlubbers.”

Round Two: Success in Boho Bay

This time, though? We made it. And it was everything we hoped for.

We dropped anchor in Boho Bay—perfect for a big boat like Tangaroa. Only a couple other boats were around, and we had plenty of swinging room. We let out 250 feet of chain, and when Blaine backed down, the anchor dug in so well it popped off the wildcat. Solid set.

Lunch was Annie’s shells and cheese—because sometimes you just need a bit of comfort food before setting out on an adventure.

Why We Came to Jedediah in the First Place

We’d seen other cruisers share videos—Sailing Magic Carpet did a lovely one—but we weren’t here just for the views.

We were after the grit. The stories. The abandoned echoes of a life once lived.

Jedediah sits in the Strait of Georgia between Lasqueti and Texada Islands. It became a BC Marine Park in 1995, but its human history goes way further back.

In 1890, the Foote family bought it. They cleared land, planted orchards, and built a homestead at Home Bay. Then in 1949, Al and Mary Palmer arrived. Mary ended up living on the island full-time until 1972.

Imagine that. Living year-round on a tiny island before Instacart, drones, or even regular ferry service. Just you, your animals, and whatever you could grow or carry by boat.

Eventually, the province bought the island to keep it from development. And what’s left behind? That’s what we came to see.

Exploring the Island’s Past

After anchoring Punga, our 15-foot aluminum dinghy, we packed some granola bars, water, and Maggie in her harness and headed ashore.

There’s a BC Parks sign near the trailhead with a map and some history—but that wasn’t what we were there for.

Every step on Jedediah feels haunted by purpose. There are fields where hay once grew, trails cut by goat hooves, and collapsing sheds filled with rusting gear. This wasn’t a fantasy island. It was a working one.

We found a rope swing and couldn’t resist a few swings. Then the trail opened into a wide field and past an old irrigation ditch. Deeper in, we found the main homestead.

Weathered. Mossy. Still standing, but barely.

You can’t go inside—it’s wire-meshed and rotting—but the front porch still faces the bay. You can imagine tea being poured, dogs barking, maybe even the sound of a radio on a summer night. The cedar shakes, the broken roofline… it’s all a quiet whisper of the lives once lived here.

Will the Horse: A Quiet Legend

The Palmers didn’t take everything when they left. One of the things they left behind? A horse named Will.

Will lived out the rest of his life roaming the island—loved and spoiled by visiting boaters. When he passed in 2003, those same boaters buried him and built a memorial beside the trail.

There’s a handmade cross, a carved wooden headstone, a horseshoe, and even a little horse figurine. It’s humble and beautiful.

We stood there for a while. It felt special. Quiet. Almost sacred.

The Goats—and Their Impact

Jedediah still has goats and sheep—descendants of the Palmers’ livestock. We didn’t see any this time, but we’ve seen them before, clinging to those cliffs in winter like mountain climbers.

There are signs of them everywhere: droppings, worn-down trails, chewed shrubs. Researchers are studying how these grazing animals are changing the landscape, fencing off test plots to monitor native plant recovery.

Forgotten farm animals have become part of an island-wide ecological experiment.

Would We Go Back?

Not on this run. We’re heading north now—full steam into the Great Siberian Sushi Run. But we’re glad we made it this time.

Jedediah is more than a pretty anchorage. It’s a time capsule.

If you get the chance, go. Step on shore. Walk the trails. Visit Will. Swing under the trees. Hear the echoes.

And if you want to see the video from our visit, click above or head to our YouTube channel Onboard Tangaroa – Exploring the World.

While you’re there, visit our website at www.onboardtangaroa.com and consider joining our online crew.