Greetings. I've been on hiatus from the Blog for the last few years but back now with some new ideas and entries.
In aviation and other circles prone to discussions on safety there is a term frequently used to describe a human tendency often responsible for serious accidents. It's called "Get-there-itis." Simply put, it is the surprisingly powerful desire to get to our destination that causes us to take risks we might not normally take. In the context of my sailing adventures these lessons have always been rather benign but in aviation they can quite literally be deadly.
This past June/July my girlfriend and I decided to take advantage of the unseasonably hot early-summer weather and head out for a few days sailing. After spending a pleasant but predictable night in our favourite spot on Gambier Island we headed across the straight for a night inside the Gulf Islands. We decided to take the slightly shorter route to Gabriola Pass and then proceeded to sail south inside the islands to Thetis Island. We both love the cozy Telegraph Harbour marina on the west side of Thetis but my girlfriend had an event she needed to be home for the following evening and an early slack tide through Porlier Pass dictated we stay on the east side of the island and anchor in Clam Bay instead. It's still possible to get to the marina from there by way of a mid-island passage called "The Cut" so we figured we could still visit Telegraph Harbour for a walk via the cut and still be close to Porlier for a quick getaway the next morning.
That evening we enjoyed a nice bbq dinner and concluded with me pouring some of David's 18 year old scotch and lighting up a Cuban cigar on the deck watching the night slowly overtake us. A Partagas #4 takes a little while to smoke and soon I was refilling my whisky to keep it company. This led to a chicken-egg scenario of philosophical thinking in the twilight, leading to more whisky, leading to more deep thinking.
They say that one of the stages of grief is negotiation. It is also true that one of the stages of a hangover is grief, often followed by negotiation. In this case the negotiation was with Brenda at 6am on why we didn't really need to catch the early slack in Porlier and how I could still get her home in time for her evening event by catching the late morning slack. I sweetened my argument with talk of a hearty breakfast and relaxation over coffee - all of which was clearly more appealing to me in that moment than her. Nonetheless she relented and we had a splendid morning lounging over breakfast and coffee.
At around 10am I was feeling considerably better and began to focus on how narrow our margin of error had become. Slack tide was at roughly 11:30 and from there in perfect conditions it is 6 hours to Vancouver on the good ship Ge'Mara. Brenda would be hard pressed to get to her event, unless of course we went through Porlier early. The tide was currently flooding so I reasoned we could go in early, shoot through on a 4 knot current and get the sails up. The wind had been blowing 20+ knots in the strait, creating conditions I knew Brenda wouldn't want to sail in but it was supposed to die down by noon. If all went to plan we would get a brisk start to our crossing followed by a steady sail the rest of the way home.
Now that the plan was formed I found myself restless at anchor. I looked at my watch, I looked at the tide chart, I looked at my watch... Next thing you know I was pulling the anchor. Brenda came up top wondering why we are leaving early and I reassured her I knew what I was doing.
30 minutes later we approached the mouth of Porlier Pass. As I looked through the pass to the far side I could see an odd silvery sheen at the surface. A look through the binoculars confirmed my fear. The water on the far side of Porlier was churning. The brisk NW wind was in almost direct opposition to the still-rushing current and that combination produces standing waves at the mouth of the pass. I texted David to see what he would do. He said slow up and wait for an hour until true slack. I looked at Brenda and decided that wasn't an option. We proceeded into the foaming maw of Porlier Pass.
My first surprise was how fast we weren't going. We should have had a 4knot current helping us along but instead we were fighting to maintain 3knots forward speed. Nonetheless we advanced towards the standing waves. The first one or two were fine but the pitching of the bow seemed to increase with each new wave. One second the bow was pointed at the sky, the next it was buried in a wave. Loose items below crashed about the cabin. I began to wonder if I'd made a grave error but eventually we got through.
We proceeded to get the sails up and headed towards home. Brenda looked relatively unfazed by our trip through Porlier. The look of naive trust. I pushed aside my sense of guilt for that decision by reasoning I was now poised to get her home in good time. Unfortunately nature had other plans. Rather than calming, the wind seemed to be picking up. I repeatedly trimmed the sails to compensate but it was clear we were in for a boisterous ride home. Brenda hung on tightly as we took a wave over the bow and asked how long it would be like this. I knew she wouldn't like the answer. Twenty minutes later we tacked 180 degrees and headed back for Porlier Pass. There was no way Brenda wanted hours of those conditions. Being the gracious person she is, she took full responsibility for turning around and thus missing her friend's birthday party.
We motored back through Porlier and by the miracle of nature it was flat and calm. The torrent of only 30 minutes ago was nowhere to be seen. Slack tide.
Postscript
After resetting our expectations of getting home that day we quickly adjusted to the reality of another beautiful day inside the Gulf Islands. Blessed now with ample time we sailed south, thinking we would stay at Montegue Harbour on Galiano Island. On our way we passed Wallace Island, a beautiful but very popular marine park and anchorage. I had never been able to find space there. We passed the two main anchorages and confirmed they were jam packed. Even if there was a single spot available we wouldn't have wanted to spend the night in that sardine can. We proceeded south past the lower tip of the island and I looked back into a tiny bay I knew was suitable for only one boat, fully expecting it to be occupied as well. By divine providence it was empty. There was another sailboat hovering near the entrance but he had decided not to go in because he lacked a stern anchor which is needed in such close quarters to prevent swinging. We have a stern anchor. A short while later we were secure in one of the most beautiful, cozy little anchorages I have ever found. We went ashore for a nice walk and had a very pleasant stay at Wallace Island. The next day we returned home uneventfully on calm seas.
I have read many stories with unpleasant endings about when people succumb to get-there-itis. I'm very glad our lesson was a soft one with a happy ending.
