As we drifted dead-stick out into the Strait of Georgia, I could think of at least three reasons to be thankful. The first was that our engine had quit as we left Porlier Pass and not as we entered it. The other scenario would have been much more dangerous. Second, there was a bit of a breeze and we were, after all, a sailboat. Lastly the visibility had improved significantly since we left Telegraph Harbour and the sun was even trying to peek out in places.
Without waiting to tinker with the engine I immediately set the guys to raising the sails and soon we were underway. Once the boat was under control we played a bit more with the engine but soon it was apparent that sailing was the only way we would be getting home. I thought of a fourth reason to be thankful: Earlier that year David and I purchased a one-year membership with C-Tow, which is sort of the nautical equivalent of AAA. Once we were across the strait I would give them a call and someone would tow us back to our marina. All we had to do was sail across the strait.
The course we were on was north of the one I had plotted to Pt. Grey, thanks to the direction of the wind. I wasn't too concerned about this as we had all day to get home so we aimed Ge Mara's bow for roughly Gibsons and planned to tack back towards English Bay when we got about half way across.
In time the wind freshened and we were having a good sail. We had one more good meal left for the trip and it was passing noon so Sean went below to prepare it. He had promised us a sort of panini made with nearly-fresh focaccia bread, an assortment of ham and cured meats, fresh basil and boconcini. I was at the helm while Sean worked on lunch below and soon he started to protest about being heeled over too much. Things were starting to slide off the counter and he was having a difficult time controlling all of the ingredients he had laid out before him. Sure enough, the wind was continuing to strengthen and we were heeling over even further. Tom and I made further adjustments to the sail trim but we had two things working against us. First, I had not been able to turn in to the cove to reef the main so we had full canvas up. Second, I was flying my 150% genoa, a sail that was already much to large for the worsening conditions. For the moment however, all was under control.
Soon the guys were scarfing down lunch and washing it down with our last bottle of wine. They had fun taking pictures of their wine glasses with the boat so far heeled over. I took my own turn to eat a short while later and with Tom at the helm. After a while as we were cleaning up the lunch dishes, Tom called from up top. He was having trouble keeping the boat on course in the growing wind and we were starting to heel precariously in gusts. It was time to make some adjustments.
Normally my procedure in this situation is to start the engine, head the boat directly into the wind and partially furl the genoa so we wouldn't be overpowered. Unfortunately we couldn't do this as we had no engine. I knew we needed to shorten sail but as new squalls blew through and the boat felt less and less under control, I began to fear that without an engine to fall back on I might be headed for trouble. I elected to call C-Tow, as much for advice as to request a tow.
The man who picked up the phone at C-Tow asked me a few questions about the boat, the crew and our situation. I explained that I had a fairly inexperienced crew and that I might be needing assistance sooner than I had planned. Rather than working with me to this end, the guy asked me if I had a spare fuel filter. To my embarrassment I said I wasn't sure and that I wouldn't really know what it looked like anyway. He seemed aghast that I might be underway with no spare fuel filters and doubly so that I wasn't familiar with the procedure to replace one. He went on to explain that the fuel filter was likely my problem and to essentially lecture me on the folly of not knowing more about engine maintenance. I was speechless.
I gave up trying to get assistance from C-Tow and instead went back to the cockpit and proceeded to partially furl the genoa. With this done the boat was a little more under control. I considered trying to reef the main but remembering my last experience with trying this while in a stiff wind I elected not to.
Before long the weather threw a new challenge at us. Just as fast as a big squall would come through and very nearly put us on our ear, the wind would die completely and we would lay becalmed. Initially this lasted only a few moments but as the afternoon wore on the dead stretches lasted longer and longer. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the guys glancing at their watches and eying the horizon for signs of the Vancouver shoreline. I needed to get us home.
I re-dialed C-Tow and updated them on our situation. At this point I informed the gentleman that in addition to being concerned about the squalls, we were for the moment becalmed and in all likelihood we would need a tow. To my great surprise he was very reluctant to send someone out. He explained that a tow for that distance would be very uncomfortable and would cost the local operator a lot of money. I was flabbergasted. Losing my patience I asked him just what good my annual membership was for if, while I was becalmed in the strait, I would have to argue with him to get a tow. Shortly after he relented and said someone would be on the way.
As fate would have it, no sooner than I ended the call the wind picked up. We pointed the boat back towards Vancouver which was now visible on the hazy horizon. For the next two hours we manhandled the boat in the gusting winds toward English Bay. The wind direction had changed again and we were now making great time, although the ride ranged from exciting to terrifying. Occasionally we had to furl the headsail again when things got too hairy, only to need it all back out a few moments later. It was all rather exhausting. Along the way we came up with another sailboat of similar size. He was heeled over dangerously, showing us more of his bottom then I'm sure he cared to. It was obvious he too was having trouble with the weather and together we sailed closer to home.
In due course we approached English Bay and it was clear we were going to make it most of the way back without the aid of a tow. I was happy about this but irked in another way that there was no sign of our assistance from C-Tow. Finally as we sailed into the strait a distinctive orange boat motored up to us and a very good natured young guy hailed us. He was a refreshing change from the man on the phone, sympathetic to our plight and eager to help. We still had wind so we sailed for a while longer while he motored nearby. After a while the wind died and he came along side and rigged us for a tow. As this was going on we doused Ge Mara's sails for the last time that trip, thankful to be done with the wind. As we sat in the cockpit while being towed in towards Coal Harbour I relaxed for the first time since that morning.
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| Getting a tow into Coal Harbour |
As we approached the marina our attendant once again came along side and explained that as we got closer to the marina he would have to raft along side rather than towing us. I was concerned about this because there are some large yachts tied up along our dock and it might be tight for the two of us to maneuver towards my slip tied beside each other. I convinced him to take me to the tip of the dock and untie us while still under power. This would give us the momentum we would need to glide along the dock and ultimately into our slip. He was concerned about this but ultimately agreed and executed the maneuver perfectly.
As we ghosted along towards our slip I felt like this last challenge of docking without the aid of the engine would go ok. We had just enough momentum to get there. But then, incredibly, a new challenge presented itself.
As we approached our slip I realized that it wasn't empty. The marina is allowed to rent out the space when we are gone but we were very clear about our return time. Now as we glided in with no engine with which to maneuver or reverse, we couldn't turn in and were headed instead directly for a brand new Boston Whaler tied up at the end of the finger. A collision was inevitable.
One of of us must have done something good that day because, thank God, another slip was open very near the end. We would be taking someone else's space but at least we could bring the boat in safely and without incident. I turned in towards it and the guys stepped off onto the dock and had her tied up nicely a moment later.
I was so incensed about my slip being occupied and the collision that very nearly occurred as a result, I didn't wait to walk to the marina office but instead raised the night watchman on the VHF radio. When I told him there was a large powerboat from Oregon in my slip he asked me to stand-by. A moment later after checking the register he confirmed that yes, there was a boat in my slip and that it was scheduled to be there for a few more days. I stared at the radio speechless and then after moment I started to smile and thanked him for confirming what I already knew. There would be time to deal with the Marina's administrative bungling later. For now I was just very glad to be safely home.
I gratefully accepted a rum and coke from one of the guys and sat down exhausted. It had been a long day full of lessons that I would later think about in great detail.
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