W.T.H. IS PIRATE’S COVE?

An enchanted pirate hideaway? Or a hobo super-fort? Reved uncovers Pirate’s Cove.

QUESTION: Why does it take pirates so long to learn the alphabet? Because they spend years at C.

Ahoy, matey!—next time sailing the mighty Eagle River, drop yer anchor at this here lagoon west of Revelstoke. Pirate’s Cove is a fine place to visit with your favourite wench or coxswain and scrape the barnacles off of your rudder. Whatever that means.

Jeff Erwood built the hideout as a treehouse for his son Andrew. The crowsnest lookout tops out at 56-feet-high. “He is some kind of a dad. He can do anything,” says Jeff’s dad Gary. “He is a pirate-y pleasure himself and a friend to all,” says Heidi Bryant-Gannon. Arrrrrr you up for a round of golf? Or maybe a cannonball off the dock into the chilly wa- ter—shiver me timbers! And, to the rotten scallywags who loot from Pirate’s Cove, a word of friendly warning: “Respect our property and you can hang out at the beach all day,” says Andrew. Aye!

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