Planning: In Pursuit of the Epic Trip

Now that David and I are in the peak of our 2nd sailing season with Ge'Mara, we've fallen into a sort of pattern.  We each sail on our own across the year with friends, family, etc, but we make sure to carve out time every few months for what we now refer to as an "epic" trip.  By this we mean a trip  that pushes our existing boundaries of distance, time and sailing skills.  The first of these was our week-long sail to Desolation Sound in August 2013.  The next one was our fairly recent sail to Princess Louisa Inlet this past May.  The nature of the epic trip dictates that by definition it must get bigger and/or more adventurous every time.  To some this may not seem sustainable but for me it keeps the element of excitement in the boating experience, lest we fall into a pattern of "camping on the water."  And if this gradual escalation of adventure means that ultimately we'll be circumnavigating the globe in a blue-water boat one day, so be it.

We are scheduled to depart for our next big trip on July 31 or August 1, depending on tides, schedules etc.  David is finishing his year end run at work so there will be no sailing for him until the end of the fiscal year at ACL.  The destination we are considering is Barkley Sound on the western side of Vancouver Island.  This will be a bit of a stretch given the time we have allotted (10 or 11 days) but it meets the criteria for "epic" in several ways.

• Most distance we have traveled in a trip.
• First time to spend a night tied up in Victoria Harbour
• First time in the (often temperamental) Strait of Juan de Fuca
• First time in the open ocean and far side of Vancouver Island
• First time to Barkley Sound and the Broken Island Group

And as a possible bonus (as if one is needed)

• First time taking Ge'Mara into a US port.  (David has already purchased a US courtesy flag)

One proposed route to Barkley Sound

The initial few days of the trip will be pretty much business as usual.  We'll begin by crossing the strait and heading into the Gulf Islands with the goal of staying in Ganges Harbour on Saltspring Island.  It's not clear yet wether we'll make the easy crossing to Porlier Pass and proceed south inside the Islands or make the longer crossing to Active Pass, which would constitute yet another "first" as neither of us have yet transited Active Pass.  The former plan will be more leisurely and include a potential stop at Clam Bay on Thetis Island.  The latter will involve quite a bit more sailing and will save precious time.  From Ganges we will proceed South to Victoria and tie up in the inner harbour, most likely at the Coast Hotel as it has a marina.  We are looking forward to bringing a decent set of clothes and going ashore that evening to see what kind of trouble we can find in Victoria.  This will likely include but not be limited to, the venerable Sticky Wicket Pub.

The Sticky Wicket Pub & Restaurant in Victoria

Upon leaving Victoria will have a big decision to make.  If the weather outlook for the Strait of Juan de Fuca is foul for the foreseeable future, we may need to abandon our hopes of getting to Barkley Sound and instead make for the San Juan Islands, home of two famous sailing destinations, Roache Harbor and Friday Harbor.  But assuming the best, we will continue south past Race Rocks and into the Juan de Fuca (often referred to as Juan de Puka, because of it's reputation for high winds and rough seas).  We will likely head up the strait as far as Port Renfrew where we will take refuge for the night.  From here it isn't clear where are next stop will be.  The route I have charted in the map above calls for crossing the Strait and making for Neah Bay.  This mostly commercial harbour is the last stop before heading into the open ocean and is often a point of refuge for boats of all description that are either running from, or waiting for, calmer seas and better weather.  From Neah Bay it is pretty much a direct run northwest to Barkley Sound.

Barkley Sound is reputed to be a nature lovers paradise.  By all accounts it is at least equal to Desolation Sound in beauty but benefits from its remote location and shallow waters, making it less of a haven for the mega-yacht vacationers.  Inside the sound is the Broken Island Group, which as its name suggests, is a tightly clustered group of islands which hold endless possibilities for exploration by kayak or, more carefully, by sailboat.  This is one of the unfortunate ironies of this trip;  Our timeline dictates no more than a day of exploration in the sound before we will need to turn around and head for home.  Even at that we will be running the risk of possible delays for weather which could result in some very long travel days getting home.  I have a flight to catch to the BC interior for a fishing trip the day after our scheduled return so there is no wiggle room.

The trip home will be pretty much a reversal of our route with one possible exception I plan to suggest to David.  I lived for 20 years in White Rock and spent many leisurely hours walking along the White Rock promenade and the famous pier that extends for almost a kilometre into the shallow bay.  Years before I had done any sailing on my own I would linger at the end of the pier looking at the sailboats there, including the ones that might stop at the public dock for a brief visit with friends.  It would be fun to close the loop and pay a visit of my own on Ge'Mara and invite some mutual friends to visit for lunch or dinner on the boat.  We shall see...

The White Rock Pier

Tonight David and I will meet to plan the final details of our trip.  I can tell he's taking it seriously because he suggested we shun the usual steak barbecue and immediately get down to business.  He is, however, bringing a bottle of wine.  We're not barbarians, after all.

More Solo Sailing

It is surprisingly difficult to actually force ones' self out onto the water alone.  There's always a reason to stay integrated into daily life and remain in the company of others.  Lunch dates, appointments and to-do lists all conspire to keep me ashore, even though they take up very little time.  A single 15 minute phone meeting can interfere with days of sailing if the timing isn't right.  I've only just begun to realize how driven we all are by schedules and events, many of which aren't all that important.  So it took a surprisingly large effort, or more an act of will, to clear the decks and head out again on the boat alone.

I left on a warm Sunday morning, once again racing the clock to provision, pack and get away from the dock while the tide was still ebbing through First Narrows.  Given how calm the water was I elected to defer some of the normal dockside tasks until I was underway, knowing I could set the autopilot while motoring out and step up on deck to remove the sail cover and stow the lines.

There was just enough wind in English Bay for a decent sail and soon I was on a starboard tack towards Jericho beach, listening to Jimmy Buffet on the satellite radio.  This year, with a bit more experience under my belt, I've come to appreciate just how nicely Ge'Mara sails, particularly in light air.  It took only a few tacks to get completely out of the bay and I noticed with satisfaction that I could point higher into the wind than many of the nearby sailboats.  I grinned to myself and wondered how well she would do with our full-sized genoa rather than the little 110 I was currently flying.

In my haste to provision that morning I had been unable to buy a proper supply of drinking water.  Ge'Mara's onboard water is actually fine for drinking but it tastes vaguely like the garden hose we use to fill the tanks and generally we prefer to drink bottled water.  By the time I had rounded Pt. Atkinson, the wind had mostly died and the sun seemed oppressive.  Our little dodger offered no protection from the sun at its present angle and I was pounding back what was left of our bottled water onboard.  With time on my side I made the decision to head into Snug Cove on Bowen Island for a flat of water.  I had also neglected to buy wine, which was an even more serious problem than the water.

I knew from experience that the government dock in Snug Cove would be packed.  A quick inspection through the binoculars confirmed this.  Rather than going to the trouble and expense of checking with Union Steamship Marina, I elected to head into the adjacent bay where there is plenty of room to anchor and row ashore.  Soon I was in the dinghy and headed for the beach, with Ge'Mara securely anchored a few hundred meters off shore.  I walked into town, secured the water and headed back to the beach.  In a rare show of temperance I only purchased one bottle of wine and was just as happy for not having to carry more.  Back at the beach the tide had risen rapidly and the stern of the dinghy was already in the water.  I was thankful to have returned as soon as I did because the dinghy would have been afloat in another 15 minutes.

The dinghy at Bowen Island.  Within 20 min
the tide was threatening to wash her away.

Back on the boat I resumed motoring toward Long Bay on Gambier Island.  Once passing the Northern edge of Bowen and turning west the wind returned and I was able to sail smartly in a series of long tacks to the mouth of the bay, shamelessly singing along to the Al Green songs I had playing on the stereo.  On arrival at Long Bay I doused the sails for the day and motored in to anchor for the night.  Once the boat was secured there was something I was dying to do even more than pouring a cold Dark and Stormy.  I stripped down to my underwear and without hesitation dove off the boat into the water.  After swimming around a bit I climbed back aboard and dried off, feeling refreshed.  I put on some fresh clothes, poured my drink and settled in for the night.

Later in the evening I was sitting in the cockpit at dusk enjoying a whisky.  On such a clear night I was hoping to look at the stars but Gambier is a little too close to the lights Vancouver to offer much of a show.  I heard a splash and a thump and I looked around in the gathering darkness to see what it was.  I thought I saw movement in the dinghy, which was floating at the end of its painter about 6 ft away from the boat.  It was too dark to see much so I went below and fetched a flashlight.  When I pointed the light at the dinghy I was greeted by two glowing eyeballs.  Moving the light around, I realized a River Otter had jumped into the dinghy.  I waited for him to jump out as a result of my flashlight but he just stared into the light for a few seconds more and then settled into grooming himself, apparently satisfied there was no threat.

I've heard stories about otters taking up residence on boats and how their amonia-smelling excrement can leave a permanent stain on a deck.  My swim ladder was still down from when I jumped in the water and I knew this guy was agile enough to climb up into the cockpit.  I leaned over the rail and pulled up the ladder, fastening it into place.  With that done I grabbed the dinghy painter and started gently pulling it towards the boat to give me a better look at my new friend.  Apparently this startled him and in a flash he jumped out of the dinghy and disappeared below the surface of the water.  I was mildly disappointed that I'd chased him away but when I thought of scrubbing otter dung off the bottom of my dinghy I realized it was probably for the best.

The next morning I had a decision to make.  I could either make the short, leisurely sail to Gibsons and nearby Plumper Cove or I could cross the strait to Silva Bay.  The Gibsons option offered the additional attraction of lunch or dinner at Smitty's Oyster Bar, a favourite of mine.  On the other hand, crossing the strait seemed like a better sailing opportunity.  In the end the decision was made when I called Smitty's and found out they are closed on Monday.  Silva Bay it was.

The stretch of water between Bowen and Keats islands known as Collingwood Channel frequently has inflow and outflow winds, similar to Howe Sound.  Today was no exception and I once again tacked up the channel against a brisk inflow, enjoying myself thoroughly.  My wind reports told me that this was just an anomaly and there was no wind in the Strait of Georgia but it seemed difficult to believe as I approached Cape Roger Curtis at the Southern tip of Bowen, heeled over in the stiff breeze.  Sure enough, a mile or so into the strait the wind all but died.  I bobbed around thoughtfully for a few moments, reassessing my decision to cross.  In the end I opted to continue, even if I had to motor.

There was enough wind to sail but not very fast.  When I slipped below 3 knots I started the engine and re-trimmed for motor-sailing.  With the combined efforts of the engine and my small breeze I made excellent time across the Strait.  Before long I was approaching Thrasher Rock and consulting my charts.  The entrance to Silva Bay is guarded by many rock hazards and shallow water.  I was alarmed when I couldn't pull up the appropriate electronic chart on my phone and had to refer to the paper chart to confirm the location of local hazards.  So much for relying on electronics.  Soon, with my passage and entrance to Silva Bay made uneventfully, I was tied up at Silva Bay Marina.  I was sweaty from a day in the hot sun and made a beeline to the showers for some relief.  Later on I opted for dinner in the marina restaurant and then passed the evening sitting quietly on the boat and chatting with the guys on the boat next to mine.  Marina life is very social and provides the ideal alternative to the quiet seclusion of a night at anchor.

Evening in Silva Bay

The next day I enjoyed a relaxing morning in the marina before heading home.  After stopping for fuel I motored out into the strait.  This time I had no illusions about sailing across - I knew the wind would be light.  So I trimmed the boat for motor sailing and settled in for a pleasant crossing in the brilliant sunlight and dead calm seas.  For much of the trip I sat on the deck in the cool shadow of the mainsail, reading my copy of "The Island of Dr. Moreau."

Later that day as I made the turn into English Bay I was treated to a following wind and I was able to enjoy an hour or so of downwind sailing wing on wing.  Later as I doused the sails and prepared for arrival in Coal Harbour I reflected that it may not have been an "Epic" trip, but it had certainly been worthwhile.

Wing on wing towards home