Vancouver to Desolation Sound - Part 1

Exultation is the going

Of an inland soul to sea - 

Past the houses, past the headlands,

Into deep Eternity!

Bred as we, among the mountains,

Can the sailor understand

The divine intoxication

Of the first league out from land?

Emily Dickinson

We had planned to take GeMara further afield than ever before at the end of the summer.  The decision seemed to be coming down to either Desolation Sound or Princess Louisa Inlet.  The latter is guaranteed to be a lot of motoring given it's location at the far end of windy Jervis Inlet so we opted instead of the somewhat simpler route directly north up the strait.  David has a friend who owns property and a few cabins on Read Island so this became our ultimate destination.  Along the way we had some other friends to visit on Nelson Island so our itinerary took shape around these stops.  Ultimately it was as follows:

Day 1:  Secret Cove
Day 2:  Nelson Island
Day 3:  Lund
Day 4:  Read Island, Desolation Sound

We decided to leave the route home up in the air based on the wind and other factors.  This would make for interesting conversations later in the trip.

Preparations
Whenever I think of taking big trips I always envision extensive and thoughtful planning.  In David's case this was true for the most part.  Mine, not so much.  The week leading up to the trip was the only week I was to be in the office for the month of August so I was caught up on work and assured myself that David was covering off all important details.  On departure day we still hadn't fully provisioned so we met at the local Safeway to finish buying food for the week.  $250 later we trundled out of the store with a kings bounty of provisions including T-bone steak, rack of lamb, ample bacon and eggs and enough chips and cheesies to satisfy any sea-bourne craving.  Like fire, thirst is the enemy of the mariner so we were extra careful on this front as well, to the point that we needed an extra cooler strapped to the deck to accommodate the beer, water, cranberry juice and ginger beer needed for the trip.  The refrigerator in the cabin was reserved for perishables.  Dry goods were stowed in GeMara's ample space along the sides of the cabin and the rum and single malt were carefully stowed in the locker reserved exclusively for this purpose.

We had a new idea this trip for storage of delicate fruits and vegetables that are subject to bruising.  I had seen in pictures and videos that people making long ocean passages use miniature "fruit hammocks" to store produce.  When hung properly these swing harmlessly back and forth with the waves without making contact with anything and freeing up valuable stowage space for other items.

The new hammocks were great for the fruit.  Can you guess
which one is hung correctly?  Didn't take us long to figure it out.

Day 1
The weather forecast for our trip was consistent.  The hot, dry weather that had dominated July and early August had finally run out and we knew we were in for some cloud and rain, particularly towards the back half of the trip.  The wind for the entire time blew out of the southeast, directly up the strait.  And so it was that on day 1 we would have 20 knot winds at our back to push us on our way.

It was great fun but a little tiring as we were on a deep broad reach with quartering waves constantly trying to twist the boat off our intended course.  The wind continued to build as well as the waves which we later heard were between 6 and 8 ft at times.  This was made all the more exhilarating by the fact that we opted not to reef or change the headsail from our current 150% genoa.  We reasoned that unless it's a gale, downwind shouldn't require reefing.  Technically this was true but with the large following seas we found that when the waves occasionally knocked us far enough broadside, our sails would feel the full fury of the wind and we would eventually broach.  We soon realized that our thrilling downwind ride in big winds could quickly get ugly if we needed to use a different point of sail.  

It was about this time that the dock master at Secret Cove marina called David's cell to warn us of big weather and suggest we consider delaying our departure.  Not only was he concerned for our welfare, we found out later he was short on dock space given that his existing tenants were reluctant to leave when they were supposed to because of the weather.  We thanked the man for his concern but assured him we would be arriving soon, in fact well ahead of schedule.  We were blasting North along the coast at 7 - 8 knots, almost double our normal speed.  (Later we would calculate an average speed for the day of 6.5 knots).

Realizing we were probably being a little reckless we decided to put the nose into the wind and I crawled up onto the deck to reef the main.  On this subject I will simply say that I will not try again to reef the main at sea in 6ft waves any time soon.  When I finally collapsed back in the cockpit my right hand was completely cramped from the exertion of trying to tie the reefing lines with the wind trying to blow the excess sail to windward.

Thankfully by the time we arrived at Merry Island and Welcome Passage the sea had abated and we were scooting along at close to 10 knots at times, thanks to the continued tailwind and a 3 knot current. Not long after we arrived at our destination and tied up safely at Secret Cove Marina, our scare with the wind and waves already fading into memory, waiting to be reconstituted at a later time for the benefit of our friends with a suitable amount of embellishment.

One other note on day 1:   A few guys sat in a weather-worn sailboat in front of us at the dock during our stay.  After we arrived, one of them sauntered over and offered up some unsolicited advice, saying that we should NEVER connect to shore power until we have finished securing the dock lines.  We thanked him for his wisdom but afterward David and I agreed that we had in fact secured the boat first and only made a minor tweak to one of the lines a few moments after the power was connected.  I realized then that while learning is important, it's also important to know the difference between good advice and meddling by know-it-alls.


Day 2
This would be a shorter day in terms of progress towards our ultimate destination but full in the sense of activity.  We were headed north to Nelson Island to visit two sets of people.  First we would enter Quary Bay to meet with our friends Peter and Jan at mid-day and then we would head to the far side of the Island to Vangard Bay to meet with David's friend Ed, his wife Diane and some other guests.

The Southeast wind continued this day but minus the big seas.  Thus we had a quick and enjoyable sail up to Nelson Island with nothing of note to report.  We first headed slightly away from the island in order to turn exactly downwind and head wing-on-wing directly into Quarry Bay.  As we entered the bay we saw Peter scooting out in his dinghy to meet us half way in.  It's always a great pleasure to meet work friends for the first time in their personal element and Peter was grinning ear to ear in his little boat, happy for the chance to introduce us to what must be his favourite place in the world.  He guided us into a mooring buoy positioned right offshore from his cottage.  We tied up and hopped into his dinghy for the short ride to the dock where Jan was waiting for us.

GeMara at anchor in Quarry Bay

We spent a pleasant couple of hours with Peter and Jan, sipping a cold beer and getting the grand tour of their cottage and the surrounding properties belonging to friends and family.  While David and I don't own cottages, we recognized their pride in their summer getaway as a version of our our own pride in GeMara and together we toasted the happier moments in life.  We learned about the many ways that people exist "off the grid," using tried-and-true practices augmented by modern technology in the form of solar panels, battery banks, propane and a good generator.

Peter and Jan outside their cottage

Soon we left them to their holiday and after a short lunch continued on to Vangard Bay.  Here we were met by Ed and his friend Brian on the dock and once secured we walked up to Brian's place for another tour.  The cottages here were also right on the water but rather than the ocean they were perched above a placid body of water known as West Lake.  We admired the abundance of beauty they had here that they could enjoy the benefits of a trout filled fresh water lake only minutes from Vangard Bay and the ocean.

Later that evening David and I sat on the boat with a scotch and pondered a clear black sky packed with a million stars that we never see in the city.  This led to the sort of quiet contemplative conversation that only late night stargazing can invoke.  Before retiring we both stepped onto the dock for a quick pee over the side.  To our delight the water exploded in light as the plankton in the water responded to the disturbance with glowing phosphorescence.  I knew this was a common phenomena but in my entire life I had yet to experience it until this moment.  For a few precious seconds we were young boys once again, doing our best to distribute the beer and wine we had consumed earlier in spectacular fashion across the waters of Vangard Bay and being rewarded with a light show that  rivalled a fireworks display.

The next morning dawned clear and sunny.  It was to be the nicest day of the trip weather-wise.  After saying our goodbye's to David's friends we motored away from the dock on glassy waters, en-route to Lund, BC - the gateway to Desolation sound.

At the dock in Vangard Bay

Motoring out in glassy waters

Day 3
The tradeoff for having blue skies and warm sunshine was no wind.  That was ok with us as we had been treated to two days of exciting downwind sailing and somewhat chilly weather.  We quickly fell into our routine of spelling each other off at the helm and enjoying the scenery.  The waters and wind remained quite calm as the temperature rose and soon we were back in t-shirts and shorts, feeling like summer had returned.  The calm weather also meant that whoever wasn't at the wheel had the chance to relax and read or putter around the boat without being tossed around by the waves.  At some point I noticed that the deck had accumulated quite a bit of dirt and bird droppings so I pulled out our deck brush and began scrubbing the deck, stopping to rinse the brush in the passing ocean at regular intervals.  We were motoring up Malaspina Strait, the strip of water between the BC mainland and Texada Island.  The time passed pleasantly as we took turns scrubbing the deck, saying high to passing boats and enjoying the sunshine.

David scrubbing the deck on our way to Lund

We arrived in Lund around 3pm but were undecided if we would stay.  Lund is the last major marina before entering Desolation Sound and we needed fuel, water and ice.  Unfortunately the marina there is a bit small to meet the summertime demand so rafting (tying boats together at the dock) is often required.  We had no interest in doing this as it is akin to staying in a hotel and having an open door to the room next to you.  Not only is there no privacy but the people on the outside boat have no option but to walk over your boat to get to the dock.  The Copeland Island Marine Park is just north of Lund and looked to be an excellent anchorage so we determined that we would go there if the marina couldn't arrange for a slip with power and no rafting.  Fortunately they accommodated us in the end and we tied up in the last available slip that was large enough for GeMara.

Lund Marina is a very pleasant stop, with a well stocked general store for provisions, a restaurant and the famous Nancy's Bakery.  It is also known as the northernmost point - and origin - of highway 101 which extends all the way to South America.  We took some time to explore and buy provisions, including some of Nancy's famous cinnamon buns which we kept for breakfast the next morning.  (This turned out to be a rookie mistake as you can buy them fresh from the oven at 7am rather than eating day-olds).

Looking back at the marina resort from our slip

The marker indicating mile zero - the start of highway 101

The famous Nancy's Bakery

It was at this point that David and I had our first test of conflict resolution for the trip.  When we were done re-provisioning and looking around the marina we headed back to the boat.  It was 5pm and I was hot so I announced it was time to relax with a well-earned drink.  I went below and happily mixed a Dark and Stormy just the way I like it with a bit of extra rum and lots of ice.  I settled into the cockpit with my drink and a bowl of Hawkins Cheesies just in time to see David hauling that spare sail out of storage and onto the deck.  He declared he was going to change our 150% genoa out for the high-cut jib which would be a much more appropriate sail for the following day when strong winds were forecast.  There was no arguing with the logic of changing the sails but his timing was horrendous.  I glanced at my icy cold drink and back at him and declared that I wasn't moving and we could do it later.  In response David manhandled the sail bag onto the deck and said he would do the job himself.  This was ridiculous as changing the sail is a 2-person job.  For a while I sat stubbornly sipping my drink listening to David grunting and flailing around the deck, first feeding the sail onto the forestay and then running back to pull on the jib halyard a little bit, only to have to rush forward again.  This was painful to watch and after a while with a roll of my eyes I put my drink down and went forward to assist.  After a while the job was done and I collapsed back into the cockpit and turned my attention back to my now watered down Dark and Stormy.  It was then that I realized my sunglasses were missing.  These are costly Maui Jim's with special reader lenses built in to the bottom.  A search of the deck where I remembered leaving them revealed nothing and it became apparent to me that as we were manipulating the sails on the deck at some point they were swept overboard.  Now I was really ticked.

Sensing a bit of tension, David offered to unpack the 150 to see if they had gotten caught up in that sail.  With a groan and a few expletives I helped him in this task, only to come up empty handed.  As we re-packed the sail I started to cool off and realized that it was no big deal and I had a spare set of sunglasses so I let the matter drop.  For his part, David didn't get defensive about it, nor did he make the obvious point that we wouldn't have felt like doing the sail later after a big dinner and a bottle of wine.  Shortly after I reconstituted my drink, David cracked a beer and the matter was over.  Later that evening David found the my sunglasses where they had fallen down underneath the dodger from where I put them down.  They had never been on the deck at all.  He handed them to me without comment.  We ended the evening by sharing a meal with a friendly couple in a big trawler across the dock and hit the sack.

The next morning we reefed the main in anticipation of a windy day and left the marina.  Most of the other boats that were leaving were turning left and heading south, as the weekend and their vacations were drawing to a close.  It felt good that we were turning north toward Desolation Sound, with lots of adventure still in front of us.

GeMara at the dock in Lund just before departure

Next Stop - Desolation Sound

It's been a relatively busy summer between sailing and other vacation activities but David and I wanted to make sure we got one truly epic sail in before September arrives and our attentions turn fully back to the office.  So tomorrow we set sail for Desolation Sound.  Many cruisers would not consider this destination to be in the "epic" category but it represents our longest journey to date.

This week is my only week in the office for the month of August so unfortunately our planning has been frustrated by the need to earn a living.  Fortunately I have a 6ft high nautical map of Georgia Strait pinned to the wall in my office so we can typically grab a few moments here and there to debate our route.  Perhaps telling is the fact that our conversations are dominated by talk of provisions (how many times is it reasonable to eat bacon and eggs in 5 days?) and choosing which marinas to stop at along the way.

I started to prepare a picture of our route with the various waypoints mapped out but I realized I couldn't do that because we haven't figured it out yet.  So this is it for now...

Splicing the Mainbrace

Today's post finds me further away from the water than I've been in a while.  We're spending the 2nd part of our summer vacation in Whistler, BC for some alpine hiking.  For locals, if you've never done the alpine hikes at Whistler, you really must try them.

Anyway, the most nautical thing about my stay here in Whistler has been the sumptuous Dark n Stormys I've been drinking in the afternoon.  In an earlier post I spoke about my fondness for this drink.  As I sip one now I've been contemplating the relationship between rum and life at sea.  I've always found it interesting (and redeeming) that the British Navy served rum to its' sailors every day until the year 1970. Around 11am, the time known as "up spirits," the captain gave the order to issue a tot of rum to the crew.  Occasionally when circumstances warranted, the captain would issue the command to "splice the mainbrace" which was a euphemism for authorizing  a double ration. I had first read about this in an excellent book on the history of modern spirits called "And a Bottle of Rum" by Wayne Curtis.  Hungry for a bit more detail, I found more information on Wikipedia.  For your edification I share it with you now.

An excellent book on the history of rum and other spirits

From Wikipedia:

The rum ration traditionally consisted of 70 millilitres of rum given out to every sailor at midday.^[1] It was sometimes supplemented with splice the mainbrace. The rum ration was often served from one particular barrel, also known as the "Rum Tub" which was often ornately decorated and sometimes was reinforced with brass.^[2]

Sailors when boarding their ship were asked if they were members of the Temperance movement. If they said they were, it was noted in the ship's records and they were given three pence a day instead of the rum ration.^[3] The time when the rum ration was distributed was called "Up Spirits", which was between 11 am and 12 noon.^[4] Sailors under 20 were not permitted a rum ration.^[5]

History[

The rum ration was originally beer with a daily ration of 4.5 litres per sailor until the 17th century. In 1655, rum replaced beer as the sailor's daily alcohol ration because of the capture of Jamaica from Spain. This change was made because beer would often spoil on long voyages. The ration of rum was half a pint per day, and originally issued neat; sailors would "prove" its strength by checking that gunpowder doused with rum would still burn (thus verifying that rum was at least 57% ABV.)  <Thus the use of the word "proof" to describe alcohol content to this day - Doug >   In 1740, to minimize problems caused by drunkenness and hoarding of rum, the Navy adopted the practice of diluting rum with water in 1:4 ratio and splitting the ration into two servings, one between 10 am and noon and the other between 4 and 6 pm. In 1756 Navy regulations required adding small quantities of lemon or lime juice to the ration, to prevent scurvy.^[1][6] The rum itself was often procured from distillers in Jamaica,Trinidad & Tobago and the British Virgin Islands.^[5] Rations were cut in half in 1823 and again in half, to the traditional amount, in 1850.

The abolition of the rum ration had been discussed in Parliament in 1850 and again in 1881 however nothing came of it.^[7] In 1970, Admiral Peter Hill-Norton abolished the rum ration as he felt it could have led to sailors failing a breathalyser test and being less capable to manage complex machinery.^[8] This decision to end the rum ration was taken after the Secretary of State for Defence had taken opinions from several ranks of the Navy. Ratings were instead allowed to purchase beer, and the amount allowed was determined, according to the MP David Owen, by the amount of space available for stowing the extra beer in ships.^[9] The last rum ration was on 31 July 1970 and became known as Black Tot Day as sailors were unhappy about the loss of the rum ration. There were reports that the day involved sailors throwing tots into the sea and the staging of a mock funeral in a training camp.^[1] In place of the rum ration, sailors were given 2 cans of beer a day and improved recreational facilities.^[10] While the rum ration was abolished, the order to splice the mainbrace remained as the command for it could only be given by the Monarch and is still used to recognise good service.^[11]

Midsummer Sailing - A Boating Vacation

For the last 15 years, my summer vacation schedule has revolved around my employer's fiscal year end of July 31.  I work in sales so the run-up to year end is sometimes frantic and necessitates limited time off in June and July.  While others are relaxing I am working deals and struggling to find ways to get contracts with Fortune 500 companies through our legal process.  It's exhausting but the payoff is comes with a bang on August 1.  August is the warmest, most reliable month of the year here in Vancouver and I have learned to love the sense of release that comes with leaving the office behind on July 31 and taking most of August to relax and for the first time this year, sail.

We planed a 5 day trip to start off our vacation that featured stops on both sides of the Georgia Strait.  Our first stop was one of my favourites so far, Long Bay on Gambier Island.  It's an almost fiord-like spot, cutting deep into the island to form a cozy, almost insular anchorage.  At the end of the bay there is a public dock that is little used even in the height of summer that serves as a jumping off point for exploring the many trails that criss cross the island.  We made a point of rowing ashore and doing that on our first full day at anchor and it was great to get the exercise.  Later on we relaxed on the boat for a while nursing a Dark n Stormy and some cheesies as a reward.  (Yeah, I know...)

Relaxing with a Dark n Stormy after the hike

As idylic as it was in Long Bay, we were getting antsy so before long we pulled up the anchor and motor-sailed to Gibsons, BC, home of Molly's Reach (of CBC's Beachcombers fame) and my favourite local spot, Smitty's Oyster Bar.  I was hoping to pull right up to the public dock that is owned by the restaurant but this time of year space for a 34ft boat on a public dock is pretty rare.  Instead we anchored just off shore and rowed the dinghy ashore for a plate of Oysters and an ice cold lager.

We knew that a good friend of ours with his own beautiful 40ft sailboat would be out sailing this same weekend.  Turns out he was just across the bay in Plumper Cove so he came across with his brother and sister in law in their dinghy to join us.  She had just caught a nice 5 lb salmon off the back of their boat and before long we had an invitation to come back for the night to Plumper Cove and enjoy their catch with them for dinner.  This we did.  Sitting on the flying bridge of their 50ft power boat in broad comfy chairs, it was easy to see the attraction to the "dark side" of boating - under power.  Plumper Cove was packed with boats and the beautiful Cape-Cod style homes along the shore were packed with beautiful people partying well into the night.  Between the revellers on shore and the little marine park packed with boats of every description, this was like the nautical equivalent to a KOA campground.  It was a pleasant night but I made a mental note to avoid Plumper Cove in high season.

Our friend motoring out of Plumper Cove right behind us

The next morning we were up early and preparing for a quick departure.  We agreed to sail with our friend across the strait to Porlier Pass and on to Clam Bay on Thetis Island as our next stop.  We needed to leave early in order to enter the strait through the appropriately named Shoal Channel which becomes perilously shallow at low tide.  I'd never used this route before but I felt comfortable following the lead of our experienced friend.  Just as we were both ready to haul up our anchors he called with a glitch.  Neither of us had thought to check the currents at Porlier Pass.  I turned out that Porlier would be flooding at close to  7kts when we planned to arrive which would make it impossible to transit.  We debated powering down and waiting until noon to make the crossing but in the end we were both ready to sail so we decided to leave anyway and kill time on the other side waiting for the tide to change.

After feeling our way through Shoal Channel and sweating a bit with only 12ft of depth at one point, we raised the main and started to sail.  There was a decent puff forecasted so we reefed the main before leaving Porlier.  This turned out to be a great idea.  With about 12kts of wind we had a spectacular sail most of the way across, averaging 6.5kts and a perfectly balanced boat.  I was amazed at how little heel we had given our speed and I made yet another mental note of the importance of good sail trim.

We reefed the main and still made 7kts

Sailing side by side across the strait - until
he left us in his wake!

At one point in the crossing our friend, who was well ahead of us in his bigger, faster boat, turned around and came back towards us.  It seemed like he wanted to come close enough to hail us and we were worried that something had gone wrong on his boat.  To our relief he simply wanted to take some pictures of us under sail.  These I will include in this post as soon as he sends them to me.

As we came to the end of our crossing the cloud that had been dogging us finally cleared and left us with glorious sunshine and heat.  Unfortunately we also lost our wind but it had been a great sail so we were happy to start the engine and motor the last little bit to Porlier Pass.  Our friend had decided it was safe to transit the pass but with our smaller boat and inexperience we decided to wait for an hour or so before our attempt.  We pulled into a small bay at the mouth of the pass, dropped the anchor and made some lunch.  We were on the Northernmost part of Galiano Island.  Nearby there was a family relaxing on the beach, the kids splashing in the water.  We sat in the cockpit enjoying overstuffed sandwiches and cold beer.  What could be better?

After an hour or so we left our little bay and headed into Porlier Pass which had now spent most of her energy and put up only a modest challenge.  Soon we were through and threading our way through the few small islands between us and Clam Bay.  Still smarting from our humiliating encounter with a rock in this area earlier this year I kept a close eye on my charts and depth sounder.  Before long we came to Clam Bay, a large placid anchorage that was once again filled with boats but was large enough not to feel too cramped.  We located our friend who was already lounging at anchor and took up station nearby.  No sooner than I had set the anchor and jumped in the water for a dip, someone from a nearby boat started calling over to us.  He was rafted to another boat and planned to add a 3rd to their little party and he was concerned that I was anchored to close.  At first I was miffed at the affront but I moved the boat further away and on reflection I had to admit that he was probably right.  Later that evening I dinghied our friend over from his boat and we all enjoyed happy hour followed by an ample dinner of barbecued steak and salmon.

The next morning we said our farewells to our friend as he headed off to attend to his own plans.  In turn we left Clam Bay and enjoyed a gentle sail down the East side of Wallace Island.  We were due at Telegraph Harbour Marina later that day so I thought we would explore the popular anchorages on Wallace and surrounding area before heading to the marina.  I was disappointed to discover how cramped and crowded these anchorages were (at least at this time of year).  All of them required a stern tie, which means that after anchoring someone has to dinghy to shore with a line from the stern of the boat to wrap around a tree and bring it back to the boat.  This seems like entirely too much work for the privilege of packing in like a sardine beside other boats so I ruled this out as a future option, at least in high season.

Later that day we pulled into picturesque Telegraph Harbour and tied up at the marina.  There is a balance that exists between the allure of life at anchor and life at the dock.  A night at anchor offers seclusion and quiet (most places) and is free of charge.  On the other hand, the marina offers the promise of a hot shower, power to run the refrigerator non-stop, fresh water to refresh depleted supplies, the ability to get on an off the boat at will and the opportunity to socialize with others at the dock. We took full advantage of all of these luxuries and soon we were relaxing with a drink on the boat feeling fresh from a shower and ready to meet our dock neighbours.

We decided that for a change we would walk to the other side of the harbour to the pub and have dinner off the boat.  We enjoyed the beautiful walk around the Island but found the pub menu lacking for our tastes so we returned to that boat and cobbled together a dinner of fresh guacamole and chips along with barbecued smokies on Portuguese buns.

A shot of pastoral Thetis Island near the ferry terminal 

By the next morning we were both feeling like we'd had enough of boat life for this go around and were ready to head home.  The tides at Porlier Pass dictated that we leave in good time anyway and before noon we shot through into the strait and began our crossing.  It wasn't quite as thrilling as our trip over but it was pleasant and uneventful, just the way Brenda likes it.  The last third of the trip home we needed to motor, which got me thinking.  An autopilot really is helpful.  There is nothing quite so boring and frustrating as having to stand vigil at the helm of a boat under power, doing only 5kts, for hour after hour.  I contemplated the next planned sail with David, this one 7 days, towards Desolation Sound.  Whereas before an autopilot seemed like a luxury, now it seems like a necessity.  As we pulled into our home berth in Coal Harbour I made a mental note to chat with him about it.