Friday, June 14, 2019

Ballet Bay, off of Blind Bay off of Nelson Island, B.C., Canada

     This is a pleasant spot with islands helping to protect the bay from some winds. We arrived last night and the wind was coming from the west, blowing strong in here. Still this place has better holding for laying anchor than the place the night before last. The other place had lots of rock on the bottom. It took us three times to drop the anchor and finally have it set properly. Because the bottom was so much rock we heard the anchor chain scrape every once in awhile on the bottom during a windy night. The guide book said it was protected from the northwest and northeast. It was protected from wave action but the wind came up around dusk and made plenty of noise in the rigging during the night. All in all not a very restful night. There is a bonus to wind in an anchorage for us. The wind generator spins and recharges the batteries which in turn make it possible to run radios, navigational electronics, and a mall refrigerator. 

     The wind from the night before, continued all day yesterday, so we had a wonderful day of sailing with the wind at our back, (downwind), in the morning and in our faces, (upwind), in the afternoon. The wind was just right, so we were moving between 5 and 7 knots of speed, which is as fast as we go with the engine. We probably could have sailed into this bay but it was starting to get late and the wind died down at one point, just when we were debating to continue sailing or take the sails down. Transitions are often a challenge. 

      Kieran is on the boat with us since the 4th when we rendezvoused  in Campbell River with him. Our first day out on the water with him was also an idyllic sailing day. We went back to Melanie Bay for a couple of nights and for Kieran to experience the beauty of it all. The first afternoon he went for a sail in our dinghy. The clouds had been around off and on all day. They clumped together and started to pour rain from the sky just as Kieran got within a hundred yards of our “home” boat, Pinniped. He was soaked by the time he arrived. We almost never use the hot shower on the boat but it was just what Kieran needed on this day. That and hot coco. 

      There is something special about watching raindrops falling on a large body of water. If they are big enough they make a great splash! I love to watch it happening. Even though I didn’t want it to rain that afternoon, there was this unexpected pleasure in seeing the raindrops hit the water with so much exuberance!

      So we are gradually headed south, visiting new places along the way. This place is great for sailing the dinghy around the little islands that help create the shelter for the bay. We took turns taking the dinghy out, each on our own throughout the day. We had a sunshine and just enough breeze. After dinner, still enough breeze to sail the dinghy, Mike and Kieran went out together and then Kieran and I. The sailing was much more exploratory because it was high water. We went in and around islands we couldn’t during low water earlier in the day.

Wednesday, June 19, Vancouver, B.C., Canada

     We arrived here on Monday afternoon in False Creek by Granville Island. This is a creek that acts as a harbor as it flows into Burrard Inlet. We came so Kieran could catch his flight back home to Carbondale early Tuesday morning. We decided to spend yesterday here so we could buy some much needed groceries. At 5:15 this morning the high winds forecast for midnight made a late arrival. A small sailboat had come in and anchored rather too close to us during the night. With that first big gust of wind Mike was up on deck checking things out. Luckily so was the young couple in the little sailboat. They managed to get their anchor up just in time so as not to run into us. Pretty exciting to wake up to another boat only a couple of yards from our boat. 

     So we are still here in Vancouver, waiting for the wind to subside. The wind will have calmed down by tomorrow and we will get an early start crossing the Strait of Georgia one more time to the Gulf Islands. From the Gulf Islands we will head south to the San Juan Islands in the States. If some old friends are available in Friday Harbor we will visit with them for a day or an evening. Our time on the water is fast coming to a close. We have another week and a couple of days left before the boat will be hauled out of the water until next year.

Once in the boatyard we will be on the boat for another couple of weeks. We will clean all the salt off the boat, take the sails off the boat, take off  the running rigging (all the ropes used for controlling the sails), empty the water tanks and dry them as much as possible, put away cushions, bedding, life jackets, emergency equipment, (life raft, survival suits, survival bag), then put it all in storage. There will be laundry to do,  tools and clothes to be packed into the truck for the drive back to New Mexico. The dinghy will be lashed to the top of the truck. To do lists for next spring will be made. For example, what will need repairs, need  replacing, what if any new project will be planned, etcetera. 

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

Van Donop Inlet, on Cortes Island, British Columbia, Canada

     We just arrived here in the early afternoon today. This inlet is part of a marine park. There are trails to be hiked up mountains and lakes that can also be hiked to. It wasn’t so far from where we spent four tranquil days in Melanie Cove off of Prideaux Inlet in Desolation Sound Marine Park. We had to motor to this park because our house batteries had gotten too low while we were in Melanie Cove. We could have sailed but the batteries needed charging and the only way that could happen was to use the engine to get here.

Two days later: We are here in Von Donop for a second full day. The weather has been lovely these last eight days or so. The water up in the northern parts of the Salish Sea,  are not so cold. We’ve gone swimming a number of times. Earlier we spent two days at Manson’s Landing. This bay had a gorgeous large lagoon that could be walked along to a fresh water lake famous for going skinny dipping. We walked to this lake. The water wasn’t too cold, just the wind that day made getting out of the water a challenge.

        Von Donop Inlet is so long, almost three miles, it is possible to hike across the island to a small settlement called Squirrel Cove. We did this today. We walked through sun splotched woods. Most of the trees seemed to be second growth. Ferns grew on both sides of the path. At the start of the hike was a sign saying this is wolf country but we didn’t see any wild life on our walk. Lots of bird calls I didn’t recognize. This isn’t unusual for me because the only bird song I know is the Robin’s and the Chickadee’s. Oh, I guess I know the Raven’s call as well. Last evening as we ate dinner in the cockpit of the boat we watched a Bald Eagle swoop over the water numerous times in hopes of catching a fish. It was amazing to watch. Mike got it on video with his i-pad.

Sunday, June 2, 2019

Gowlland Harbor, between southern Quadra Island and Gowlland Island, B.C. Canada

     We are almost just across the channel, (called Discovery Passage) from the town and river called Campbell River. Actually we are three miles north of there. We arrived here around 10:30 am after leaving Gorge Harbor at 6:30 am. You may be wondering why we left so early in the morning. There were two reasons. First we left early because yesterday in the afternoon the wind became rather blustery, with gusts up to 22 knots. On the marine weather channel (which we try to listen to dutifully every evening before the morning of a place we are leaving) was predicting more of this wind by mid morning. Although Gorge Harbor, where we spent the night, is protected from any wave action, it does have wind. As I said earlier in the blog, wind while at anchor can be very annoying to me. That is one of my challenges this summer, to overcome the sense of insecurity the wind blowing in an anchorage creates in my mind. It isn’t like the wind one sails through with waves all around and a sense of purpose to it all. After all, the wind while under sail is making it possible to reach our destination without burning any fuel. No, when we are anchored I don’t want to be worrying about how the wind may cause our anchor to drag, which in turn could lead us to going aground or ramming into another boat. I don’t want to hear the wind whistling through all the rigging and making our flags flap wildly, creating a sense of unease in my mind, senseless restlessness. No, I don’t like the wind in these circumstances, but I can’t control the wind, only maybe, eventually, my response to it. But I’ve strayed from why we left so early in the morning. I was glad to be leaving that darn anchorage. It had blown all night, off and on and woke me up every time it picked up from a respite of calm. 

     The second reason for leaving so early was also very important. It turns out that Discovery Passage has an incredibly strong current, up to 9 knots at it’s peak. (This is very important information to know since our boat’s motor can only do 6.5 knots and while sailing our record speed has only been 7 knots.) How did we know the current would be so strong? Well we would have known the first time we went to Campbell River, two weeks ago, if we’d examined the chart like we usually do. Like we’re supposed to. On the chart, it accurately shows the channel having a current up to 9 knots and in red print it states for all chart readers to see:

                                     Tide Rip

With flood stream and strong southerly winds, a dangerous tide rip forms off Cape Mudge, often extending across the entrance of Discovery Passage. Extremely steep waves may be encountered under these conditions which are a serious hazard to small vessels.

Needless to say we learned this the hard way; but that’s another story. This time, we were not going to be caught by surprise. We made sure the wind would be out of the north and the tide would be ebbing. However, to meet those conditions, we had to have our anchor up by 6:30 this morning.

     We had an interesting time coming over here. We came out of Gorge Harbor and the water was glassy calm. We were motoring. As we came out from the protection of an island, the wind started to pick up. We thought we’d be ahead of the game and just put out small amounts of sail in anticipation of strong winds. The strong wind never materialized. Then, at one point it appeared the wind was building when it gusted up to 17 knots and we scrambled to put a reef back into the sail only to have the wind die down again and have to let the entire main sail fill with the meager wind. 

     We’ve never been to this harbor before so out of necessity we were both alert, paying attention to key landmarks, matching what is seen on the chart to this new place we were coming to. In general, more often than not, when arriving in a new place, there are rocks to be avoided, marker buoys to be located, as well as taking into account, always, (Ha!) wind and tide direction. So for me I find myself having to curb my imagination at these times. I guess one could call it the fear of the unknown, the new. I find myself becoming anxious beyond what is reasonable. It’s like there are two of me. The person who wants everything to be just fine, no surprises, no unknowns, all the time wanting everything to be predictable. Then there is this other me who wants to explore new places, have new learning experiences, expand my horizons. From the very beginning this season of sailing has been a challenge in a new way. I guess it always is, only this year, since the very first day or because of the very first day, I have had to do mighty battle with the part of me that fears. Finding the guy in the cold southern waters has been part of it. Mike’s inability to move without pain in his hips on some days, which meant he couldn’t do things on the boat that came easily to him in the past, and carelessly sailing into a rip tide, all these things have put me in touch with the me who is afraid. This manifest itself outwardly as a kind of sadness, tinged with anxiety, and bordering on depression. Going to Prideaux Haven in Desolation Sound where wind does not penetrate the anchorage, walking to the fresh water lake to swim in the nude, hiking in a northern rainforest, almost two whole weeks of pure sunshine, meeting other sailing couples our age who were very friendly and generous, all of this has restored my confidence in this sailing adventure.

      Now it has begun to rain. They need rain up here in the Northwest. Although down south in Washington they had quite the snowfall and moisture this winter, further north, in British Columbia, they haven’t had their usual rainfall. It has been relatively dry. I say relatively. Their dry is nothing like our New Mexico dry. 

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

Van Donop Inlet, on Cortes Island, British Columbia, Canada

     We just arrived here in the early afternoon today. This inlet is part of a marine park. There are trails to be hiked up mountains and lakes that can also be hiked to. It wasn’t so far from where we spent four tranquil days in Melanie Cove off of Prideaux Inlet in Desolation Sound Marine Park. We had to motor to this park because our house batteries had gotten too low while we were in Melanie Cove. We could have sailed but the batteries needed charging and the only way that could happen was to use the engine to get here.

Two days later: We are here in Von Donop for a second full day. The weather has been lovely these last eight days or so. The water up in the northern parts of the Salish Sea,  are not so cold. We’ve gone swimming a number of times. Earlier we spent two days at Manson’s Landing. This bay had a gorgeous large lagoon that could be walked along to a fresh water lake famous for going skinny dipping. We walked to this lake. The water wasn’t too cold, just the wind that day made getting out of the water a challenge.

        Von Donop Inlet is so long, almost three miles, it is possible to hike across the island to a small settlement called Squirrel Cove. We did this today. We walked through sun splotched woods. Most of the trees seemed to be second growth. Ferns grew on both sides of the path. At the start of the hike was a sign saying this is wolf country but we didn’t see any wild life on our walk. Lots of bird calls I didn’t recognize. This isn’t unusual for me because the only bird song I know is the Robin’s and the Chickadee’s. Oh, I guess I know the Raven’s call as well. Last evening as we ate dinner in the cockpit of the boat we watched a Bald Eagle swoop over the water numerous times in hopes of catching a fish. It was amazing to watch. Mike got it on video with his i-pad.

Sunday, June 2, 2019

Gowlland Harbor, between southern Quadra Island and Gowlland Island, B.C. Canada

     We are almost just across the channel, (called Discovery Passage) from the town and river called Campbell River. Actually we are three miles north of there. We arrived here around 10:30 am after leaving Gorge Harbor at 6:30 am. You may be wondering why we left so early in the morning. There were two reasons. First we left early because yesterday in the afternoon the wind became rather blustery, with gusts up to 22 knots. On the marine weather channel (which we try to listen to dutifully every evening before the morning of a place we are leaving) was predicting more of this wind by mid morning. Although Gorge Harbor, where we spent the night, is protected from any wave action, it does have wind. As I said earlier in the blog, wind while at anchor can be very annoying to me. That is one of my challenges this summer, to overcome the sense of insecurity the wind blowing in an anchorage creates in my mind. It isn’t like the wind one sails through with waves all around and a sense of purpose to it all. After all, the wind while under sail is making it possible to reach our destination without burning any fuel. No, when we are anchored I don’t want to be worrying about how the wind may cause our anchor to drag, which in turn could lead us to going aground or ramming into another boat. I don’t want to hear the wind whistling through all the rigging and making our flags flap wildly, creating a sense of unease in my mind, senseless restlessness. No, I don’t like the wind in these circumstances, but I can’t control the wind, only maybe, eventually, my response to it. But I’ve strayed from why we left so early in the morning. I was glad to be leaving that darn anchorage. It had blown all night, off and on and woke me up every time it picked up from a respite of calm. 

     The second reason for leaving so early was also very important. It turns out that Discovery Passage has an incredibly strong current, up to 9 knots at it’s peak. (This is very important information to know since our boat’s motor can only do 6.5 knots and while sailing our record speed has only been 7 knots.) How did we know the current would be so strong? Well we would have known the first time we went to Campbell River, two weeks ago, if we’d examined the chart like we usually do. Like we’re supposed to. On the chart, it accurately shows the channel having a current up to 9 knots and in red print it states for all chart readers to see:

                                     Tide Rip

With flood stream and strong southerly winds, a dangerous tide rip forms off Cape Mudge, often extending across the entrance of Discovery Passage. Extremely steep waves may be encountered under these conditions which are a serious hazard to small vessels.

Needless to say we learned this the hard way; but that’s another story. This time, we were not going to be caught by surprise. We made sure the wind would be out of the north and the tide would be ebbing. However, to meet those conditions, we had to have our anchor up by 6:30 this morning.

     We had an interesting time coming over here. We came out of Gorge Harbor and the water was glassy calm. We were motoring. As we came out from the protection of an island, the wind started to pick up. We thought we’d be ahead of the game and just put out small amounts of sail in anticipation of strong winds. The strong wind never materialized. Then, at one point it appeared the wind was building when it gusted up to 17 knots and we scrambled to put a reef back into the sail only to have the wind die down again and have to let the entire main sail fill with the meager wind. 

     We’ve never been to this harbor before so out of necessity we were both alert, paying attention to key landmarks, matching what is seen on the chart to this new place we were coming to. In general, more often than not, when arriving in a new place, there are rocks to be avoided, marker buoys to be located, as well as taking into account, always, (Ha!) wind and tide direction. So for me I find myself having to curb my imagination at these times. I guess one could call it the fear of the unknown, the new. I find myself becoming anxious beyond what is reasonable. It’s like there are two of me. The person who wants everything to be just fine, no surprises, no unknowns, all the time wanting everything to be predictable. Then there is this other me who wants to explore new places, have new learning experiences, expand my horizons. From the very beginning this season of sailing has been a challenge in a new way. I guess it always is, only this year, since the very first day or because of the very first day, I have had to do mighty battle with the part of me that fears. Finding the guy in the cold southern waters has been part of it. Mike’s inability to move without pain in his hips on some days, which meant he couldn’t do things on the boat that came easily to him in the past, and carelessly sailing into a rip tide, all these things have put me in touch with the me who is afraid. This manifest itself outwardly as a kind of sadness, tinged with anxiety, and bordering on depression. Going to Prideaux Haven in Desolation Sound where wind does not penetrate the anchorage, walking to the fresh water lake to swim in the nude, hiking in a northern rainforest, almost two whole weeks of pure sunshine, meeting other sailing couples our age who were very friendly and generous, all of this has restored my confidence in this sailing adventure.

      Now it has begun to rain. They need rain up here in the Northwest. Although down south in Washington they had quite the snowfall and moisture this winter, further north, in British Columbia, they haven’t had their usual rainfall. It has been relatively dry. I say relatively. Their dry is nothing like our New Mexico dry. 

Tina’s Sailing Blog 2019

Friday, May 18, 2019

       I am sitting close behind the dodger (a canvas cover that cuts out some of the wind in the stern or back of the boat, and keeps large waves from splashing into the cockpit). We are anchored in Gorge Harbor on Cortes Island ( the Canadians must of Angla-sized Cortez, changing the z to s in Cortez). The wind is blowing making the flags on the boat flap and the wind generator spin very fast, (good for keeping the batteries charged). We are at the very northern end of the Strait of Georgia. The sun is partially shining, there are also many gauzy white clouds in the sky as well. I have to be grateful to the wind, it’s because of the wind that we have this sunshine I suppose.

     This morning was spent looking over charts and consulting guide books about the next leg of our journey north to Seymour Narrows and beyond.

     I need to back track all the way to May 2, the day we left Port Townsend and crossed the Strait of Juan de Fuca. That day has colored much of our trip so far. We were making nice time sailing with gentle winds. We had just finished lunch and were feeling sleepy when I heard a voice over the water. That caught my attention. In the same moment Mike saw someone floating in the water with a yellow life jacket on and draped over another arm a bright orange traditional life jacket. As we turned the boat in that direction we could hear a man’s voice call for help. We were about a mile to a mile and a half off shore. There were no boats, paddle boards, nothing to tell us how that man came to be there in the water. In hindsight we realized we should have called the Coast Guard first, lowered the sails, turned the engine on, and motored over to the man.

However we didn’t think things through but responded on pure instinct, which in the long run was not the best strategy. We arrived close to him very quickly. We allowed the sails to luff in the wind but the breeze filled  the sails just enough that the boat would move away. We threw a life sling to him, The sling floats and is attached to a line that is attached to the boat. The man was unable to move towards the floating life sling so we could pull him onto the boat. Mike turned on the engine. We were close to him right away, almost too close. Even with the engine running the sails kept catching wind and making the boat drift away. So Mike furled the jib and I lowered the mainsail. Finally I thought we were going to get him on board when we were able to give him the jib sheet to hang on to. We needed our boat hook to grab him quickly before he let go. The boat hook was buried in the lazarette (a compartment in the cockpit of the boat), Mike couldn’t find it and a few seconds later the man let go of the line! At that very moment a large power boat came along and asked if we needed help. We answered yes as the man drifted over towards their their boat. They did call the Coast Guard immediately. By doing this the Coast Guard was able to put out an alert to the area. All boats have radios that are always tuned in to channel 16, the emergency channel. I doubt that the people in the power boat would have been able to get the man on board either since their deck was even further off the water than our boat. But a small fishing skiff was nearby and heard the man overboard alert. They saw our two boats and came speeding up to help out. There were three large burly guys on the boat. One grabbed the man with their boat hook and the three men managed to pull him onto their skiff. After a minute they began taking off their extra clothing to try to keep the man warm and sped off for shore where an ambulance met them, took the guy to the hospital where a helicopter met the ambulance, in order to airlift him to a special hypothermia hospital unit in Seattle. After the skiff left, Mike was talking to someone on the radio from 911 or the Coast Guard. Everyone was trying to figure out how he had ended up in the water all by himself. Did he fall off a tug or a barge, did he fall out of his fishing skiff, did his boat sink for some reason? We will never know those details. We were able to learn some time later in the week that he had survived his ordeal. 

     I was pretty shook up by this experience. We were both relieved that other people had arrived to help out because we were having a difficult time doing anything effective. At the time I felt like a total failure. Mike pointed out to me that sometimes one just can’t help another person the way one wants to. I didn’t sleep well that night. I kept going over everything that had happened and what we should have done differently, what we could do differently if it ever happened again. We were anchored in Friday Harbor for the night and were going to leave in the morning. I was still upset and so instead we spent half the day going over emergency procedures. This is stuff we usually review the first week out on the water. I think we will do this review before we go out from now on.

     In the afternoon we rowed to town to do a few errands, take advantage of the public showers, and drink a beer and watch baseball in a local sports bar. Rowing is a very soothing past time for me. By evening I felt better. We had talked to Marisol the night before because it was her birthday. Of course we told her what had happened. She in turn had told Fiona, who called us that night as well. Then the following evening we talked to Kieran about it too. They were good listeners and wanted to make sure we were okay.

      Saturday morning we headed out again, leaving Friday Harbor and sailing in gentle winds up to the end of San Juan Channel and into New Channel by Spieden Island. Then the wind diminished to nothing and we motored into Reid Harbor on Stewart Island, which is the last island in U.S. waters on our route to Canada. We spent a peaceful evening there. Since then we have gradually been making our way north. Our destination is Port Hardy near the very northern tip of Vancouver Island. If Kieran can join us we will go ahead rounding Cape Scott and sailing south on the western side of Vancouver Island. If Kieran can’t get time off from work we will probably just turn around and head south on the inside. There are so many places to explore up here no matter which way we go.

     Since entering Canada we had one very tiring day of sailing into a headwind from Montague Bay to Telegraph Harbor on Thetis Island. Winds only gusted up to 20 knots but the current was against us so we made poor time at 3 to 3 half knots on average. I also had moved a block (pulley) for the jib sheet and failed to make sure the block was locked into place.  In the middle of a tack the block came flying off and caught on the winch. Made quite a racket. At that point we just had to turn out of the wind and put the block back. We decided to put one reef in the mainsail (shorten the sail). Just as I finished that chore, for the first time of the season, (making silly mistakes, because it was the first time in the season), the wind died completely. So we decided to have lunch, it was past one pm. We each were biting into our crackers when the wind came back. Put away peanut butter and jelly as quickly as possible and continued our upwind slog. At one point we had to decide which anchorage would be less windy for the night. We had to make a couple of turns downwind and what a blessed pause that was from the headwind. We were moving 6 knots instead of 3 and the wind was at our back. The harbor we chose was not less windy at 4:30 in the afternoon. We tied up at an easily accessible  dock for the night and had a beer in the marina pub. By 7:30 pm the wind had fizzled out, thank goodness!

     We spent three days anchored in Nanaimo. Nanaimo is Vancouver Island’s other major city (although it’s not that large). We would row to town every day to check emails at a local cafe, do grocery shopping, laundry, showers, mail a letter, visit the local chandlery, buy some sunglasses for Mike, etc. One evening we rowed over to a pub on floats just off of one of the local residential islands.

     On the morning we were leaving Nanaimo, as I was raising the anchor, I saw a chain draped over our anchor just below the surface of the water. It had been hard to raise our anchor. I had had to do some of the raising mechanically without the use of the motor in the windlass. Now I understood why it’d been so difficult, we were hooked on someone else’s anchor chain! The boat nearest to us, whose chain our anchor had caught, luckily had someone awake on board. Mike was able to get their attention to let them know they would probably need to reset their anchor. As we left the bay I reflected on how there really are very few dull moments when boating. It can be physically very tiring and wondering how the wind is going to behave can work on one’s psyche, but bored is not part of my experience when on the water in a boat. If one doesn’t have to be alert to the sailing of the boat, if we are just motoring, there are always things to see. The different sea birds, seals, dolphins, sea lions, whales, new breathtaking scenery, other boats coming and going, looking at the chart and figuring out where we are, all these things keep me awake and far from being bored.

     Now as I’m writing the wind continues to blow harder in this anchorage. There is no wave action but the noise the wind makes in the rigging, the flags flapping wildly, and the wind generator spinning making a constant whirring noise, are all rather irritating. The sun is in and out of the clouds, which have turned partially grey. I hope the wind quits for the night. If it doesn’t stop blowing I will probably not sleep very well.