Further Afield - Part II

The Hunter Rendezvous we attended last weekend had the effect of making us feel young and Ge'Mara feel old.  That is to say, the event was filled with retired couples of at least 10 or 15 years my senior and beautiful boats that were at least 20 years newer than ours.  In hindsight it seems logical but sailboat cruising is a hobby dominated by retirees with money.  Fortunately they all seem to LOVE happy hour so all was not lost - at least after 5pm.

Lots of boats in the marina
The ones with red flags were brand new on display

The first presentation of the day was on the maintenance of marine heads (toilets).  Sadly, this is a compelling subject for all boaters.  Marine heads are notoriously unreliable and frustrating.  There is nothing quite so irritating to a boat owner when trying to impress friends and family as when a smelly, malfunctioning head is the most memorable thing about their outing.  We learned that you should pour cooking oil and/or vinnegar down the head once a month to discourage crystals that form when seawater mixes with urine.  We also heard from a guy who found out the reason why he couldn't pump seawater into the head was that a minnow was caught in the intake line, effectively plugging it.  An audience participant volunteered to dismantle a sample head in front of everyone just to show how easy it is.  David and I left the crowd and made a note to call the marine mechanic.

The rest of the day was spent listening to other seminars and walking around the grounds of the marina.  There was a couple setting up an entire hind of beef and pretty much a whole pig on spits.  These roasted and turned all day, making most of us hungry and the vegans more than a little nauseous.

Pig (or most of it) roasting on a spit

Towards the late afternoon the sun came out and we heard it was a nice walk around to the far side of the harbour to the other marina where there was a pub.  We needed a little exercise so we took the opportunity and had a very pleasant stroll through the pastoral hills of Thetis Island.  Life in the Gulf Islands is much different than in the city and nowhere is that more evident than here.  We came upon a shop with a small collection of groceries and crafts (handmade crafts are the engine that drives the Gulf Island economy).  No one was minding the shop and payment was on the honour system - simply pick your items and deposit cash in the lock box in the corner.  We picked out a few items and very deliberately counted out the correct amount of cash, erring in favour of the proprietor of course.  There is a feeling in these situations that there is a hidden camera somewhere, either literally or spiritually.  I am not the sort to ever short change anyone but in this moment I feel particularly virtuous and I secretly hope someone somewhere is watching and nodding with approval.

Things that make you go hmmm...

Telegraph Harbour Marina as seen from
the pub on the other side of the Harbour

At the urging of a local brochure we also stopped on the way back at the famous Pot of Gold Coffee Roasting Co., a Thetis Island success story.  Were were almost out of our bland Tim Horton's coffee on the boat and I was looking forward to drinking something a little more interesting the next morning.  We walked into the fragrant shop and admired the packages of coffee that lined the shelves, waiting for our turn to order.  After a while we spoke to a very gracefully aging woman who, upon hearing that we wanted coffee, looked around and said she was afraid she might not have any after all of the mail orders were filled.  I looked at her for a moment, not quite sure what to say and eventually offered to come back the next day.  She said "Would you?  Apparently the wheels of commerce turn a little more slowly here.

Coffee, coffee everywhere but apparently none for us :(

That night we enjoyed a huge plate of pork and baron of beef with some red wine to wash it down.  We took up with an older couple that owned a brand new beautiful 47ft Hunter that seemed palatial compared to Ge'Mara.  We bribed ourselves on board with Single Malt scotch.  Oddly, for all the fortunes these seniors spent on their boats, they couldn't fathom parting with the cash for a decent bottle of whiskey.  As a result David and I were minor celebreties with our bottles of 18 year old malt and generous dispositions.

The next morning we said our goodbyes to the people we'd met and slipped our moorings.  We had one more day and night left on our excursion. That morning we sat over (Tim Horton's ) coffee and discussed where we should go.  A brisk wind had come up overnight and there was a strong wind warning in the strait.  We debated the merits of making a fast and exciting crossing and spending the night on the Vancouver side of the strait and we even went the point of reefing the main at the dock.  In the end however we elected to head north to Silva Bay on Gabriola Island.

One of the nicest little marinas I've ever been to.

We left Telegraph Harbour, this time coming back north up the West side of Thetis.  The wind was coming from the northwest and we had hoped to sail at least part way to our destination.  Unfortunately the wind was stronger than we had hoped and was blowing directly on our nose.  We had to make Gabriola Passage by slack tide so we had no choice but to motor the entire way.  On this, all I have to say is that long distance motoring in a sailboat is painful.  At times we were fighting wind and current and were down to 2.5kts of boat speed.  I was so frustrated that at one point I convinced David to let me bring out a reefed headsail in hopes of helping our little Yanmar diesel along.  This was a mistake.  The fabric on the trailing edge of our headsail (the leech) has come unsewn and the line that runs down the leech (the leech line) to keep it taught had pulled out of it's pocket and was trailing back from the sail.  The genoa flapped wildly as we were too close the wind and shortly I was furling it back in.  Maddeningly the trailing leech line had tangled our lanyard at a height beyond reach.  So now we had the genoa flapping violently  in the headwind and no way to bring it in because of the fouled leech line.  Attempts to rectify the problem were frustrated by the jib sheets whipping back and forth across the deck.  After getting the "I Told You So" look from David I went forward and took a beating for 20 minutes or so and finally got the genoa furled.

By the time we transited Gabriola Pass and arrived at Silva Bay I was tired and cranky.  We had reserved a slip hours earlier by phone and now I was on the radio calling for assistance.  The kid at the marina had warned us to be careful as the winds inside the harbour were still pretty high.  Docking a sailboat in windy conditions can be an adventure.  Fortunately for the bored fisherman who were sitting on their boats at dock, badly in need of entertainment, I was able to provide it.  The kid had assigned us the worst possible slip given the direction of the wind.  Even with two people on the dock to receive us the boat swung wildly away from the dock with the wind and I was madly working the engine trying to keep from ramming in to something.  In the end I brought her close enough for David to toss the lines over and the guys were able to reign her in.  However I managed to punctuate my sad docking effort by  ramming Ge'Mara's bow into the dock.  All around, other boaters were watching with expressions that ranged from amusement to pity.  I paid for the moorage and on my return David sympathetically handed me a cold beer.

The rest of that day was uneventful and a little frustrating.  The dock position we were assigned had the wind blowing directly into our cabin.  Meanwhile I had forgotten to apply sunscreen - yet again - and was feeling the effects of too much sun.  I was crabby in a way that cold beer couldn't fix and eventually David retreated to his V birth for a nap and I went for a walk on the Island.  Later that evening I was still sulking but the wind died down so David put some burgers on the barbecue and soon we were eating and chatting with our boat neighbours.

The next morning we ate a hasty breakfast of cold cereal and prepared to leave.  We were both ready to get home to our ladies and comfortable beds.  The wind had died somewhat from yesterday but was still brisk.  We left the shelter of Silva Bay, pointed Ge'Mara on a broad reach back to Vancouver and headed home.  We started with just our still-reefed main and made reasonable speed but after a while we shook the reef out and improved our performance.  In the end we pulled the genoa out and freed the leech line from it's tangle.  Now under full sail we raced a following boat back to Coal Harbour.  Before long we were trudging up the hill from the marina looking forward to being home.