Reading of the Sea

Settling in to another work week with rain in the forecast, sailing is on hold for a while.  This is easier said than done. Tonight I found myself at home scanning the bookshelf for something nautical.  I pass over a few cheesy novels, stop at an old gem and thumb to the first page.  I can't help but smile -  I've found a great way to spend the next few rainy nights.

“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.”

Herman Melville

Wind: Feast or Famine

Since we brought the boat home we've been frustrated by weekends of fog, rain and most of all, light winds.  Even our best sails have been no more than a couple of hours before we were becalmed and had to motor home.  But we've had our fair share of time on the boat over the last month so neither of us had plans to go out this weekend.  Then the wind came.  Near the end of the week we were finally seeing real wind in the forecast - 20 - 25 knots and more out in the strait.  The forecast for Saturday was sunny skies and brisk winds so we decided to use up a little more goodwill from the ladies and head out.

The forecast for the day - ominous

Oddly, on Saturday morning there was no wind - in spite of a gale warning issued by Environment Canada.  We decided to take it on faith and we met at the boat at about 11am.  Even then there was only 2 knots of wind indicated at Point Atkinson.  It seemed the most gorgeous sailing day yet as we left the marina - the sun warm in our faces.  The breeze picked up as we turned toward First Narrows and it seemed certain we'd get a decent sail this day.

Current conditions - calm before the storm

It quickly became apparent how seriously we had underestimated the weather that day.  As we neared the bridge we started bobbing over ponderous rolling waves that were coming in from English Bay, almost like the wake from a large ship that was nowhere to be seen.  Once out in the bay, these rollers became more regular and pronounced.  Before long we were pitching quite a bit and occasionally burying the bow in water.  Looking around there were no other sailboats on the water.  These waves began to remind me of a similar day a few years ago when, on a training course, my boat was knocked down by a gust of wind.  We toyed for a few moments with the idea of flying a small headsail but soon thought better of it and turned the boat around.  The ocean spit us back into Coal Harbour at about 8 knots and we motored back home with a mixture of disappointment and relief.

The Chandlery

The traditional name for a marine supply store is a chandlery.  According to Wikipedia the name is derived from centuries ago when candles were such a big item that entire businesses were dedicated to their manufacture and sale.  Apparently boat parts went hand-in-hand with candles so it became common practice for candle sellers to stock marine supplies as well.  Then again, using that logic they would also sell beer.

Before learning to sail I was always fascinated by chandleries.  There's an unexplainable feel about them that is something between a hardware store and a book store.  You can wander for hours looking at various gadgets and ropes, imagining what their practical use might be.  Now that I have a boat you might think the novelty would be diminished but far from it.  David and I take advantage of every excuse to make a visit, except now we stride in with the confident sense of purpose that only Boat Owners possess.  In truth, we still don't know what half of the stuff is for but we make far more educated guesses.

In Vancouver there are lots of Chandleries to choose from, ranging from the little one in our Marina to megastores like West Marine.  Quickly becoming my favourite is one that David introduced me to called Martin Marine in North Vancouver.  Unlike the megastores, it has the small, cozy feel that bookstores used to have before Chapters and Barnes and Noble came along.  The floor undulates, seemingly with the ground beneath it, and is made variously of either cement or old 2x12's that look like they were taken from a dismantled pier.  One of the charms of places like this is the eclectic mix of commonly used modern items and other more dated items that look to have been there for a very long time.

The other day, David and I were looking at our dock lines and fenders and realized that they were rather old and tattered.  Safety issues aside, they suddenly seemed quite unsightly and we concluded they had to go - lest we look like amateurs.  We made a trip to Martin Marine and picked up some new white fenders and packages of fresh blue line to tie them to the boat with.  We also bought some new dock lines.  As a bonus, the guy who sold them to us also showed us a quick way to make a clove hitch.  We listened intently.

New fenders

New dockline

David also purchased 100ft of rope specifically to use for raising the dinghy with his block and tackle.  He was determined to figure that particular problem out.  The next day we went to the boat at lunch and   replaced the dock lines and fenders with the new ones.  We stood back and assessed the boat - it looked decidedly more professional.  Later that day, with the help of David's friend Ed, we rigged the block and tackle with the new line and shortly thereafter we were celebrating the marvel of Mechanical Advantage, having lifted the dinghy into the air with ease.  I imagined that the people on the deck at Cardero's were watching us approvingly.  Pleased with the day, we went below and toasted our accomplishments with a bit of single malt.

The dinghy on the foredeck with David's block and tackle attached

Training and Sailing

It's safe to say that after a frustrating wait, I had my fill of boat time this past week.  First, David and I took the day off on Wednesday to sail, reasoning that it would be the only nice day for a while.  By the end of that day we had made arrangements to have an instructor from Cooper Boating to spend the day with us on Saturday.  We spent the morning in False Creek reviewing anchoring procedures.  This brought the boat home even more for me, given that I live on False Creek and watch the boats mill about every day.  I have dreamed for years of being out there and looking back up at our condo from the water.

We tied up at Granville Island for breakfast and lunch - another milestone.  For most people, part of the attraction of Granville Island is watching all of the boats that tie up there.  It was kind of novel to see Ge'Mara tied up at the docks and the tourists taking pictures of her.

In the afternoon we did some more anchoring in English Bay.  The weather turned out to be spectacular for February.  The skies cleared and 10 degrees C.  We spent the balance of the day running through miscellaneous procedures that needed some practice such as reefing the main and heaving to.  I called Brenda from the boat and asked her to pick up some steaks for and red wine for dinner.  What more can you ask for in a day?

At the beginning of this blog I mentioned a good friend who convinced me to learn to learn to sail with him.  It's a little ironic that I turned out to be the one to buy the sailboat in the end.  Strangely, after having the boat for a month or so he still hadn't been out so he and I spend Sunday together sailing in light winds and celebrating every time we broke 5 knots.  When the wind finally died we were off Pt. Atkinson.  Instead of immediately motoring home we hove to and bobbed around for a while, pondering the future to come - me with my boat and he with twins only weeks away from being born.  There's something about sitting quietly on the water that is very conducive to reflection.

As I type this Monday morning I can still feel the movement of the water, a testament to how much boat time I had this weekend.  Time to re-focus on work and my very patient girlfriend.

A Good Day

So I really needed a day of sailing to get the bug out of my system and allow me to focus on other things.  I'm pretty sure Brenda and my boss would wholeheartedly agree.  That day came on Wednesday this week.

David and I booked the day off and made a beeline for the boat first thing in the morning.  I made a stop at the store and bought some eggs and garlic sausage so we could have a bit of breakfast on the boat.  Somehow this is a novelty to me and it just might become a tradition.

I arrived to find David struggling with the dinghy once again, this time armed with a block and tackle which he had confidently advised me would solve the problem once and for all through the wonders of physics.  However either Mr. Newton had taken the day off or we rigged the block and tackle incorrectly because the damn thing seemed just as heavy as it swung at a crazy angle from the spinnaker halyard.  We looked at each other and without another word, lowered it down, untied it and manhandled it over the side.

Shortly thereafter we were motoring out of Coal Harbour with Brenda waving and texting from her office window.  The tide was ebbing so we shot out from under the Lions Gate bridge at a blistering 7 knots, only to find the same glassy seas that Brenda and I had encountered a few days earlier.  Fortunately we found wind a while later at Point Atkinson and enjoyed some great sailing for a few hours.

We discovered a difference between us in sailing philosophy this day.  At the start of the day we had agreed to sail to Snug Cove on Bowen Island.  When I sail, I like to go somewhere - a destination.  And generally when I get there I like to eat.  To me this lends purpose to the trip.  That is precisely why there is a least one pub at every marina.  You sail for a bit, tie up and have a burger and beer.  Then you continue on.  David on the other hand, had no desire to stop.  Admittedly, after all the motoring we had only been sailing for 90 min or so.  He pointed out that we had several cans of chunky soup down below and a stove with a gimbal.  At that point the wind had come up and we here well heeled over.   I wasn't enthused about attempting to cook chunky soup at that point but I was enjoying the ride so I relented.  I found out afterward that Doc Morgans, the pub at Snug Cove, is closed now.

In the mid afternoon the sun came out and we shed a layer of clothing and enjoyed the warmth and blue sky.  It was pretty perfect for a while but then the wind died and reluctantly we headed back toward home.

Finally...

So on Tuesday morning I told David I was done thinking about sailing until spring because the weather just isn't cooperating and I'm tired of being disappointed.  He said that was too bad because tomorrow (Wednesday) there is going to be a break in the cloud for a day and more importantly, some decent wind.  A quick look at the marine forecast confirmed this so we both booked off work for the day and planned for a day of sailing.  I assured my boss that this would be the ticket for getting my mind off the sailboat and back on work.  He looked over at the 5ft high nautical map of the inside passage that I bought for my office wall and said "uh huh..."

The plan is to get an early start and sail at least as far as Snug Cove on Bowen Island for a pub lunch.  A more ambitious plan is to sail to Gibsons and have lunch at Smitty's Oyster Bar, a cousin of my favourite haunt in Vancouver, Rodney's Oyster House.  We shall see how the day unfolds....

Ok, this is frustrating

I just finished a long, cold week working in Toronto.  Sitting in boardrooms with views of a frozen Lake Ontario I couldn't help but lapse into thoughts of taking Ge'Mara out past Point Atkinson and up Howe Sound.  The weather forecast called for a break on the weekend with some sun and no mention of fog.  A massive snowstorm hit the North East at the end of the week and for a few moments at the airport I stared out the window at the blowing snow and wondered if I'd be getting home any time soon.  Fortunately we where wheels up a few hours later.  I practiced knots.

Saturday morning came and out our window False Creek reflected the same steely grey skies that we've been seeing for weeks.  I got a text that my sailing buddy for the day had to bail.  I told Brenda that and she started looking around for some place to hide.  A few hours later we were driving to the boat together.  We worked our way around Pacific Avenue and looked out at English Bay.  It was like glass.  Wasn't there supposed to be wind?  The weather buoy at Halibut Bank indicated close to 10 knots.  Then again, Halibut Bank is in the middle of Georgia Strait.  I guess English Bay didn't get the memo.

I told Brenda I had a few things to do on the boat and if things didn't improve we would just go home.  "That's a good idea" she said.  As we walked down the street to the boat it started to rain.  Out of my peripheral vision I saw Brenda put her hood up.

On the boat we made some tea and I puttered, avoiding the real issue at hand.  Our Walker Bay dinghy needed to be hoisted off of the deck where it was sitting and back into the water.  Over the last couple of weeks I had been trying to figure out how to use one of the halyards to hoist it up and over the lifelines but the spinnaker halyard seems to be jammed from lack of use.  I decided to try using the main halyard, even though it was on the wrong side of the mast.  I manhandled the dinghy into a vertical position and lashed the halyard to it as best I could.  Over my shoulder I noticed several people sitting on the heated patio at Carderos watching me.  It occurred to me that this could go very badly with one person.  I called Brenda.  She came up and held the dinghy steady but after I took some weight off of it with the winch it slid sideways and left a distinct mark on the deck.  I disconnected the halyard and we manually lifted it over the lifelines, only partially filling it with seawater in the process.

With this much work having gone into getting the dinghy off the deck, there was no way I wasn't going out.  The rain had stopped and the Canadian flag tied to my backstay was starting to flutter.  Surely this would translate to a nice breeze out in the bay.  We left the dock without incident and motored out past the floating Chevron towards the Lions Gate bridge.  An hour later we were in English Bay.  Still motoring.  Brenda sat underneath the dodger looking very cold.  I didn't want much wind, just enough to allow us some quiet time with out the engine running and to say that we had actually sailed the boat since we had brought her home.  I had left the heat on in the cabin and I suggested to Brenda that she go below and warm up for a while.  She was gone before I had completed the sentence.

Not long after I reluctantly turned the boat around and headed for home.  Even if we did want to head all the way out to the strait to find wind we would run out of daylight.  When Brenda came up top again she was relieved to see the direction we were headed.  I was disappointed but together we enjoyed looking at the city from the water, so beautiful even on this gloomy day.  A while later we were tied up again and driving home.  The sun poked through the clouds.

Waiting...

Not much to catch up on at this point, thanks largely to the weather.  We've been waiting for a decent weekend to get the boat out for a sail but no luck so far.  Either its raining hard and miserable or we get a high pressure ridge but the sun doesn't show because we've had dense fog at ground level.  Soo frustrating to know that at the top of Grouse Mountain it is beautiful and sunny but at water level it's pea soup.

Meanwhile David and I have been down puttering around the boat fairly regularly and we're running out of things to do.  The stereo has been replaced, I installed a new carbon monoxide detector yesterday and today the lifelines are being replaced.  The only other major job is the hot water heater and then we're good to go.

Oh yeah, we took a docking course this past weekend.  One more bit of preparation for the day when we can stop sitting at the dock and start sailing.