East of Eden

Midsummerdays in Pirate's Cove, 25 degrees, not a cloud in the sky, nary a whisper of a breeze, barometer falling of the cliff - I am enjoying this late summer delight until the next gale arrives.
I decided to prolong my stint here in Pirates Cove for a few more days. The low tides at my next planned stop (Conover Cove) would have Millennium sitting on the bottom at least once a day - here I stay afloat.
The Friday entertainment consisted of watching a crew of men on a huge barge replete with a crane. Their task consisted of replacing decrepit dinghy docks and rotting ramps with new ones made of concrete slabs and aluminum. Lots of sledge-hammering, whacking, hoisting and industrial strength swearing going on - but dock not yet in place. The crew, apparently strictly working to rule judging by their precise punctuality leaving the job via tug on the strike of 17:00 hours, will return on Monday. Blessed silence until then - one hopes.
But then arrives the other entertainment.
As soon as the work crew left, a sizeable trawler style boat, without flag, name or number (maybe a rum-runner or MJ runner??) dropped anchor at high tide above the middle reef of the Cove with thirteen semi-inebriated and semi-nude people crowding the uppermost deck. Engine off, stereo going flat out, screaming and swearing, and hoisting of brewskies, they started diving head first into the water near the reef, firing up the barbie for their hamburgers, and generally 'disturbing the peace'.
The 14th crew, a big Yellow Labrador dog, resigned himself to wisely staying out of the way on the foredeck.
All and sundry of the anchored vessels was on deck - observing.
A few boaters shouted to me - the 'park host' - that they appreciated someone 'keeping an eye on them'. Well, things stayed marginally under control, and eye-keeping was enough.
Come sunset when a little chill set in, they noisily departed - direction Gabriola Island. Everyone settled back into the cozyness of belowdecks.
However, a deafening racket illuminated by blue neon lights was just warming up beyond a little isthmus in the adjoining bay.
Pitch black by then, except for a sky glittering with myriads of stars. Trouble in Eden again - I was not about to row a mile around the exposed dark island to check things out.
Turns out next morning that a vessel called 'Beach-House' with a whole bunch of really boozed up men turned the quiet bay into a den of disquieting iniquity.
Camped Kayakers told me that nobody slept.
A boater at anchor was too afraid to aproach the offending vessel (activity there sounded somewhat violent, probably drugged up on something) for fear of being thrown into the water or worse.
Another boater didn't know if or whom to call for interference. (Coast guard call may have propelled the water based RCMP this way).
Apart from that annoying upset in paradise, fortunately extremely rare, the place still is what it is - paradise.