Happy Birthday Ge'Mara

This past weekend marked exactly one year since we sailed Ge'Mara home to Vancouver from Nanaimo.  It seemed fitting that we take her for a run.

After a 3-month respite from sailing David and I were ready for some time back on the boat. Our day trip to Snug Cove a few weeks back didn't really cut it so we used Ge'Mara's "birthday" as an excuse to head out a little further and drop the anchor for a night.  Even though we still weren't going very far I was interested to see how comfortable it would be in the near-freezing temperatures of mid-January.  We reflected that it was March last year before we spent the night at anchor so this seemed like a little bit of an adventure in the middle of an otherwise dull winter month.  Normally we rely on the electric heater at the dock in the dead of winter but for this trip we'd be limited to Ge'Mara's on-board diesel heater.

As usual Saturday morning we met at the local Safeway to provision.  We were determined to reign ourselves in this time and not go crazy on the food.  For the most part we succeeded...  But no matter what, you can't scrimp on the meat so we had the butcher cut us a couple of massive rib steaks for our main course.  We then considered breakfast for the next morning and briefly thought about skipping the bacon, given the size of the dinner we had planned.  We quickly dismissed that thought and picked up a pack of the extra thick, smokey kind.

After a brief delay caused by me forgetting my sleeping bag at home we left the marina.   Unfortunately once again there was no wind to speak of so we settled in for a long motor and talked.    Just like last time when we turned the corner around Pt. Atkinson we were met by the Howe Sound outflow and we raised the sails.  We had about half an hour of very pleasant sailing but once we turned out of the Sound towards Long Bay and Gambir Island, the wind died.

David at the helm on the way out

A while later we were comfortably anchored in Long Bay.  We surveyed the area and took note of the two other boats who were anchored nearby.  We stared at the long evening shadows forming over the water and the beauty of our surroundings, shivered and retreated to the warmth of the cabin.  It was 4:30pm.  Safely ensconced below, we poured ourselves a drink and chatted for a bit. At 5pm David asked if he should start the barbecue.  I gave him a pained look.  I could see the whole thing taking shape in his mind...  David has the ability to go to bed at an incredibly early hour and leave me sitting with a full glass of whisky and nobody to talk to.  Now he was trying to get dinner started early and I'm sure he was thinking if all went well he could crawl into his bunk at 7pm.  I was having none of it and suggested he crack another beer and relax.  We could start cooking at 6pm.  I put out the cheese and chorizo I bought for the occasion (we're not barbarians after all) and we snacked and drank for another hour.

Happy Hour - Beers and a Dark n' Stormy

We had decided to let the cabin heater run non-stop since before we left the dock and it was really quite comfortable down below.  Before long we had our sweaters off and were happy just in t-shirts.  I put on a sweater and went up on into the cockpit just long enough to grill the two slabs of meat and then we settled down to a huge dinner of steak, potatoes and onions, and salad.  It was a delicious meal but way, way too much food.  David wisely left half his steak to wrap up.  I demolished mine.

Beef.  It's what's for dinner

I looked at my watch after we'd enjoyed a scotch and somehow we'd made it to 8pm.  With the cabin positively toasty David collapsed contentedly into his v-berth for the night.  I was ready for this and had downloaded a movie onto my MacBook to occupy me for the rest of the evening.  It was Hunter S. Thompson's "The Rum Diary" and I crawled into my own cabin, with a tot of rum for good measure, and settled in to watch my movie.  I was asleep by 8:20pm.

As I crawled out of my little cabin the next morning, turned on the heat and put the coffee on I resolved once again to exercise a little restraint on these boat trips.  I'm the smartest guy in the world at 7am.  With the previous nights' sins still weighing on my mind (and stomach) we decided to skip the bacon at breakfast.  However I did cut up David's steak and fried it up with the leftover potatoes and 6 scrambled eggs.

Morning

I wish I had some fun sailing to report on the way home but it was not to be.  We got the sails up for about half an hour and other than that it was motoring all the way home.  I wanted to be back to watch the Seahawks game at 3:30 and we made it in plenty of time.  We agreed that Ge'Mara's heater was more than up to the task of keeping us warm in the dead of a Vancouver winter, so long as she had a bit of a head start.  This gives rise to all sorts of new winter sailing opportunities.  Can't wait.

Back on the Water

As my blog posts will attest, Ge'Mara sat idle in her slip from mid-September until the new year.  David and I would occasionally stop by to say hello and ensure nothing had frozen or broken but other than that she sat unused.  After a long and eventful summer of cruising it was probably time for a break.  Work demanded our attention once again and fall storms swept in from the Pacific, further dampening any lingering enthusiasm for being on the water.  But now it is January - one year almost to the day since we purchased our lovely boat and sailed her home.  Almost on cue, we've both been feeling the itch once again to get back to the water.

It started with David's birthday in late December.  After celebrating in the usual way with family he declared that he would also like to mark the occasion by grilling some steaks on the boat.  At the time there was a prolonged winter storm blowing through, which in Vancouver means almost nonstop rain.  But that's what he wanted and I was sort of looking for an excuse to get back to the boat so steak it was.  It ended up being a great evening.  David and I hadn't spoken much given distractions with business travel, family and the holidays.  We enjoyed catching up over a rich California cabernet and a couple of succulent New York strips, followed by a nip or two from the bottle of 18 year old scotch I'd brought as a birthday gift.

The following week the skies cleared and with just the weekend between us and the return to work and routine we decided it was time to take Ge'Mara out for a run.  We decided a trip to Snug Cove on Bowen Island would be just the ticket, enticed by the fantastic bacon cheeseburger they serve up at Bowen Island Pub.

The forecast earlier in the week had been for 10 - 15 knot winds but when the day arrived winds were calm, other than a brisk outflow in Howe Sound.  I queried David first thing in the morning about the point of motoring all the way to Bowen but he wanted to press on and I'm thankful for that.

When I arrived before 10am David had already been there for some time and had started to prepare the boat.  I set about taking down the Christmas lights I had hastily put up for the benefit of those walking by on the seawall.  I had lifted the 120ft string of lights from the middle up to the top of the mast with the main halyard.  After releasing the halyard clutch, a light tug on the lights should pull it all down again.  Unfortunately when I tried it wouldn't budge.  I suspected this might be the case with the cold and the halyard not being used for a while.  I pulled a little harder on the string of lights and then - SNAP - they broke and part of the string came crashing down on top of me.  The rest of the lights remained aloft along with the halyard.  At this point I cursed, realizing that if the same thing happened with the other side of the string our halyard would be stuck at the top of the mast and nothing short of hauling someone to the top would retrieve it.  Until then there would be no sailing.

As I gingerly played with the remaining string, David inspected the lines and suggested that if I released the actual halyard rather than the mainsheet (which is what I had inadvertently released), things might go more smoothly.  Sheepishly I released the proper line and the lights and halyard pulled down smoothly.

A short while later we cranked the engine and despite the cold she started gamely without much protest.  Both David and I were feeling a little rusty with our pre-launch checklist so we paused an extra moment to make sure all was ready and then set off.  Sure enough there was no wind to speak of  and even though we had removed the mainsail cover there was no attempt to actually sail.

Heading out for the day.  Calm seas and no wind.

After a while we both realized that it was actually quite cold.  We were remembering last year's winter sails but on reflection, most of those took place in temps that were above 8 degrees Celsius.  Today it was hovering around 3.  When we rounded Pt. Atkinson and turned towards Bowen we felt the Howe Sound outflow in our faces and there was certainly enough wind to sail but by that point we were both too cold to care.  We motored on towards Snug Cove and resolved to put he sails up on the way home, once we had warmed up and filled our bellies.

As we approached the dock we had to stand off to allow the BC Ferry loaded with people and cars to depart for the mainland.  With a deafening blast of the ships "whistle" the ferry departed and as soon as we deemed him safely out of his slip I pulled in behind him and attempted to line the boat up to dock.  Big mistake.  The substantial thrust from the departing ferry immediately started pushing us broadside into the dock and I was forced to quickly turn into it and gun the engine just to keep from being slammed into another boat.  Even after the ferry was well away and I lined up for a second attempt I had to again maneuver away due to the lingering effects of the ferry. When the artificial current had finally subsided and I brought us close to the dock we looked up and saw a sign that said in bright red letters "BEWARE OF FERRY WASH."

The dock was covered in frost and we gingerly stepped off and tied up, wary of how slippery frosty docks can get.  I had just about brained myself and taken a swim earlier in the day on a slippery dock at Coal Harbour.  We walked briskly up the hill to the pub, trying to put feeling back into our frozen toes but it wasn't until we had been seated at our table and eating before we felt completely warm.

On our return to the boat we saw two guys loading what looked like fire logs onto their sailboat and we realized that they were wintering on their boat and had a furnace inside for warmth.  David commented that their boat looked like it hadn't moved for some time.  What a contrast this was from the hour-by-hour competition for dock space in the summer.  Sailing in the winter is truly different experience.  It may be cold but it's much more peaceful somehow.

The dock at Snug Cove was frosty

As we left Snug Cove I expected to feel the outflow breeze again and contemplated the effort of raising the mainsail.  David was at the helm so I knew it would be me doing the work this time.  I should have been looking forward to it but the chill had sapped my enthusiasm for the short sail to Pt. Atkinson and I was secretly relieved when we discovered that the outflow wind had died.  We settled in to motoring home.  We had done most of our catching up so we amused ourselves watching the massive tankers and container ships steaming out from under the Lions Gate bridge towards some far off destination.

A while later we approached Coal Harbour marina and it was David's turn to bring the boat in.  Out of an abundance of caution, having had a few months off, David slipped the boat into neutral about 100 meters from the slip.  It is customary to do this when approaching so as not to have too much momentum when approaching the dock but this was a little further out than normal.  I waited on deck with the bow line as we crept slowly towards the dock.  The GPS registered zero knots.  I slept for a little bit I think.  But finally we made the turn into the slip and David was rewarded for his patience by stepping lightly off the boat and tying the stern, so little movement was left in the boat.  We joked that it was the slowest docking ever for our boat but in reality, with an icy dock and rusty docking skills, it was a prudent decision.

We buttoned up the boat and paused for 5 minutes to enjoy a wee dram of Glen Livet to toast the day, as is our custom.  It was good to be back on the boat and to revive both her and ourselves from our winter doldrums.