Barkley Sound - Adventures in "Fogust" - Part IV

Note:  For earlier chapters in this trip log please scroll down or choose from the index on the left

It may sound a little naive but when we woke up in Robbers Passage after our first night in Barkley Sound we earnestly hoped the fog had all blown away.  I was yearning for that "sense of place" that could only come through seeing the Broken Islands arrayed in the distance on one side of us and the endless open ocean on the other side.  It's a bit like climbing Everest and summiting in the clouds;  you know in your head you've made it but there is no vista - no satisfying visual cues to confirm it.

After going for another walk and exploring a small cave on the far side of the island, we said our goodbyes to the folks we met at Port Alberni Yacht club and motored away.  The sky was partly cloudy and there was no fog in Robbers Passage but as we left we could see that fog still obscured some of the outer Broken Islands.  Our plan today was to head to Effingham Island.  Anyone looking at a chart of the area would likely identify this island and the large protected Effingham Bay as the most obvious place to anchor in the Broken Islands.  A look at the cruising guide confirmed this and being our first night at anchor here we didn't want to try anything to risky.

It was a brief, cloudy sail to Effingham Island

We motored across Imperial Eagle Channel and angled towards Effingham Island.  For a while we had the sails up but before long we had arrived and needed to maneuver through the shallow north entrance.  We puttered slowly through into the bay and found it to be satisfyingly sheltered - and empty.  We made our way to the furthest, most sheltered corner of the bay and found only one other boat anchored there - a sailboat.  There were no signs of life on the boat but a dinghy was pulled up on the shore nearby so we reasoned they were ashore hiking.

This was a lazy day.  We had left Robbers Passage much later than usual and we had only been an hour or so crossing the channel.  As a result we found ourselves anchored again in the early afternoon and restless.  I had read about a trail on the island that led to a beach that was supposed to be the site of an old native village.  We laced up our shoes, hopped in the dinghy and went ashore to explore.  Before we left, the family from the other boat returned in their dinghy and we chatted with them for a bit.  They had quit their jobs and pulled their son out of school in order to go sailing for a year or more.  We would see more of them as our trip progressed.

Effingham Island - our anchorage for the night

We had an enjoyable hike to the far side of the island.  I had forgotten my day hikers and was using my smooth soled boat shoes, which made it hard to keep up with David who was powering through mud and uneven terrain at full stride.  The trail opened up to the placid rocky beach that was littered with huge old growth logs that had become massive articles of driftwood.  The tide was down and we spend a while beach combing and checking out the many tidal pools.  I never tire of doing this and was pleased to see a bunch of anemones on the rocks.  We don't see these near Vancouver for some reason.  I had a blast poking around the pools to the extent that David got tired of it and laid down against a log to take a nap while I explored.  As I jumped from rock to rock peering down into the pools I remembered that my first serious career ambition as a child was to be a marine biologist.  Somewhere along the line I became a lot more pragmatic.

The remains of a wrecked boat sits amongst the driftwood

Eventually I returned to where David was sitting and staring contemplatively out at the water.  He saw me coming and together we hiked back to the dinghy, glad for both the exercise and an hour or so of pure serenity.

Back on the boat we were at loose ends for a bit, reading and puttering with things until it was time to have a drink before dinner.  I had been carefully rationing my Goslings rum and Fever Tree ginger beer to last for the entire trip and carefully poured my daily allotment.  100 years ago in the British navy this occasion would have been known as "Up Spirits" - the time when a ration of rum given to each and every sailor on the ship.  Unfortunately, while in Victoria, I had decided to "splice the mainbrace," which is to say, pour a double ration.  As a result my rum supply was dwindling faster than anticipated and this was the cause of no small amount of angst.

Our anchorage, with the skies finally clear for the evening

Getting ready for an epic sunset

After another hearty dinner I went up top and looked out of the bay to the east as the sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon.  The cruising guide had indicated Effingham Bay is an outstanding place to watch the sun set and it was easy to see why.  I suggested to David that we drag the folding deck chairs up top and enjoy the show while we finished the last of the wine from dinner.  However I could see this would be a losing battle.  As I've alluded to earlier, once David is finished dinner he has one eye on his bed, regardless of how early it is.  This irritates me to no end as I very much enjoy good conversation in the evening, especially in a spectacular environment like this.  Somehow, diving into your bunk with the sun still up not only seems impolite but an abdication of a fundamental responsibility to your fellow man.  Royally miffed, I sat alone on the deck and snapped pictures until it was dark.  Oddly, at some point I realized I had cell service way out here on the far side of nowhere.  I called Brenda and talked with her at length about the trip, glad to have some company after all.  Happy now, I drifted off thinking of one of the more stunning sunsets I've seen in a long
time.

Barkley Sound - Adventures in "Fogust" - Part III

Note:  Scroll down or use the index to the left for earlier posts in this trip log

I woke up to the deep rumbling sound of a large nearby diesel engine.  As I cleared the cobwebs I realized that the first of the commercial fishing boats was getting underway and leaving Port Renfrew.  It was dark.  I laid there for a while longer and soon I began to hear other smaller boats, from further away.  Soon Ge'Mara started to rock in the wake of the departing boats.  Salmon fishing season was underway.

David and I stumbled around the cabin rubbing sleep out of our eyes.  While he put some coffee on I went up top and took some pictures in the gathering dawn.  By the time I got back to the boat we were being buffeted against the dock by a steady succession of waves from the departing fishing boats.  It was only going to get worse.  We had another long day in store so with a nod we agreed to untie and bolt.

Dawn at Port Renfrew Community Dock

As we left the harbour I poured the coffee and looked back.  The little fishing boats just kept coming, all of them roaring at top speed toward whatever spot they had in mind, lest all the fish be caught before they got there.  The sun rose directly over Port Renfrew and I snapped a few more pics.  It was breathtaking.

Sunrise as we leave Port Refrew.  A few fishing boats were still coming out

Heading back into the fog

Once out in the ocean we went a little further away from the coast in an effort to avoid more of the fishing boats.  We had already disappeared back into the fog so it was hard to tell where they had all gone.  That as a little scary in itself.

That morning was pretty much just long and boring.  There was absolutely nothing to see in the dense fog but one of us needed to be watching intently at all times for logs, crab traps and other vessels.  Thankfully we only had one scare.  A small sport fishing boat came tearing out of the fog at full speed headed directly for us.  Upon seeing our lights he veered wildly to one side, passing to our starboard. He then slowed to a stop and sat dead in the water.  At first we thought he wanted to talk to us bus he made no move to come back around.  In hindsight he was probably tending to whatever havoc he caused to his passengers and materials by making such a harsh turn at full speed.  Or maybe he was just changing his underwear.  I didn't think to look to see if he had radar but if he didn't I can't understand why he would be traveling so fast in the fog.  This was a discussion that would be revisited several times with multiple people during our stay here.

We passed the time that morning by spelling each other off in one-hour increments.  We had been on the water for long enough now that we no longer made a pretense of keeping each other company.  It was just nice to go below and read a book with the heat on.

Continued motoring in the fog

Our first look at Cape Beale at the entrance to Barkley Sound

At around 2pm we were staring alternately at our chart plotters and off to starboard.  We knew by the GPS and by the sound of the waves, that we had made Cape Beale at the entrance to Barkley Sound.  We gave this point and it's treacherous rocks a wide berth and made a broad arc into the sound.  To our vast relief, as we headed further and further in the fog seemed to be lifting.  Before long we could make out nearby land on both sides of the boat and soon we could make out blue sky above the mist.  Eventually the sun emerged into full sunshine and to our amazement the water was a gorgeous turquoise colour.  The last time I had seen water that colour was in the Florida Keys.  I looked back towards the open ocean and all I could see was dense fog.  I was disappointed not to be able to look to the horizon and see nothing but ocean but turning around it was at least great to be in the sun.

Gradually improving visibility...

... Revealing amazing turquoise water

Our first order of business was to head into Bamfield to resupply on coffee and ice.  We turned into the narrow inlet just inside the sound and motored toward the community dock.

In the book "The Water in Between" Kevin Patterson tells of making landfall after a month at sea single handing his sailboat back from Hawaii.  He landed in Bamfield, I'm pretty sure at the same dock I was looking at that moment.  Our journey through the fog the last couple of days could not compare to his crossing of the Pacific but when I considered how good it felt to be here I had a new appreciation for the relief he must have felt.  I made a mental note to try yet again to connect with him on the way home.

The public dock at Bamfield

**********

Having restocked our ice we headed out of Bamfield in search of an anchorage.  We had planned to go first to Effingham Island but it was still shrouded in fog so we looked for an option deeper in the Sound where the sun was shining.  I had been reading our cruising guide and the author had mentioned a little marina located in in a narrow inlet between two islands called Robbers Passage.  This was the Port Alberni Yacht Club.  Given that Port Alberni was located miles inland from here it was tempting to think of this as an outstation but in fact this was the actual club.  The channel seemed a bit challenging for a sailboat but we decided to try it.

Robbers Passage, home of Port Alberni Yacht Club

We motored carefully into Robbers Passage and once inside saw the yacht club nestled inside a small bay.  There were a few boats near the main building but another long dock extended outwards and was completely empty.  We headed for it, not sure whether our information was up to date.  Presently a woman walked out onto the dock and waved.  "Welcome!" she smiled.

We tied up at the dock and chatted with our new host.  She confirmed that the club was indeed open for business and was not restricted to members.  She pointed out the amenities which were few, but saved the best for last.  "We've tapped into a very pure spring here on the island.  We have unlimited clean water.  Feel free to fill your tanks.  You can even have an unlimited length hot shower for only two bucks!"  She gestured at a small out-building at the end of the dock.

Her pride was understandable.  To traveling boaters, an ample supply of clean water to drink is highly prized.  And even very modern marinas typically charge a buck or two for only 3 minutes of hot water in the shower.  An unlimited hot shower for $2 was the mother lode.  We all stood around smiling.  She was happy to have some paying customers.  We were just happy to have reached our destination for the night with the prospect of a hot shower.

Port Alberni Yacht Club

The unlimited hot shower for $2.00

There was a small network of well-groomed trails on the island and our host gave us a pamphlet with a map.  It was evident we were to explore them.  David and I were thinking of hot showers and happy hour but we both needed exercise after an extended stay on the boat so we put on some shoes and tromped around the island for a half hour.  The trails were very well taken care of and led to the far side of the island to a beach.  For some reason I was thinking of how much my Dad might enjoy this.  Wherever he lived he liked to cut trails in the forest so he and his guests could stroll in the woods.  I imagined he would approve of the Port Alberni Yacht Club and their efforts.

A nice pic of Ge'Mara from up in the trails

On the far side of the island

The entrance to Robbers Passage

Back at the boat I grabbed a towel and walked up the dock for a wonderful hot shower.  Shortly after David and I were having happy hour and feeling very good about everything, the memory of dense fog and errant fishing boats fading into memory.

Barkley Sound - Adventures in "Fogust" - Part II

Note:  To read part I of this trip log, click here

We knew that in summer the wind always blows down Juan de Fuca Strait from the ocean and on the trip up we would be facing into it so we settled in for another long day of motoring.  As we left Victoria behind we took turns peering through the binoculars at a blockish mass on the horizon with a tower on top.  At first it almost looked like a container ship but on closer examination we realized it was Race Rocks.  Race Rocks is at the very southern tip of Vancouver Island and represents the east entrance on the Canadian side to the Juan de Fuca.  Because of its important (and once dangerous) location, the British built a lighthouse here in 1859 and it has been in operation in one form or another ever since.  The rocky islands are also now home to a protected marine park of some significance.  Wildlife of all varieties gathers here both above and below the water because of the fast moving currents and the abundant organic life comes with them.  As we passed between the mainland and the rocks I could hear the sea lions barking in the distance and suggested without too much conviction that we go over for a look.  David dismissed the idea in favour of soldiering on up the strait.  This miffed me a little bit even as I acknowledged that he had a point.  I held my tongue.

The Olympia Mountains on the far side of Juan de Fuca 

Race Rock Light

**********

Social Dynamics of Sailing
Many people ask me how it works to be in the same confined space with another person for days on end.  My answer is that generally it's fine and mostly enjoyable.  With that said, there are moments, as one would expect, when logging repeated 12 hour days of sailing/motoring without stopping.

One issue that we have begun to encounter is that of command and control.  Now that both of us feel completely comfortable with sailing and navigation, we both seek to have a say in ongoing operation of the boat.  This can lead to some interesting exchanges.  For example, one of us might say "Maybe we should turn another 10 degrees to port.  The other person, who happens to be steering the boat and is quite happy with the current course then looks up with a slightly strained smile and agrees to make the correction.  A while later another 5 degree course correction is suggested.  The person at the helm now has a pained look and pushes back.  "On our current course we will just nicely go to starboard of that marker."  The observer then purses his lips, consults the GPS on his i-phone again and adopts a look of concern.  There is a strained silence.  Finally, with a look of exasperation the man at the helm enters a 5 degree course correction into the autopilot and looks at the other guy as if to say "There - happy now??"  Sometimes these interactions devolve into a war of the GPS chart plotting apps.  In this regard I hold the high ground since I have purchased the official Canadian Hydrographic Service Charts whereas the app that David uses has far less detailed and unsanctioned charts.  Official trumps knock-offs anytime.  But I digress.

The good news is that we act as a kind of margin of error or redundancy for one another.  Occasionally being questioned can be irritating but it keeps us both in line.  Also, I have found that we both have aspects of boat operation we are really comfortable with.  David is a detail guy so he always has the tides and navigational details down pat.  On the other hand I am getting better at sail trim and balancing the boat in bigger winds.  Neither of us are experts by any stretch but in the end it works.   More about onboard social interaction later.

**********

As we headed up the strait past the Sooke Basin, we were introduced to one of the irritations of our trip: recreational fishing boats.  It was Sunday and the water was chock full of 22 foot fishing boats filled with eager, if hungover, fishermen waiting for that big lunker to bite.  If we were in a powerboat we would have simply headed well out to sea to skirt the whole lot of them.  Unfortunately as a sailboat we can only motor at 5kts so we couldn't afford the time it would take to motor around them.  Most of these guys were fine and some waved sociably but some would gesticulate madly if they felt you were too close to their lines.

Fishing boats and crab traps were everywhere.  

Fortunately we eventually left them in the distance.  But just as this challenge was put behind us another one loomed ahead:  Fog.  About half way to Port Renfrew the horizon became obscured and we entered a huge fog bank.  We expected this and were happy that there was at least 100meters of visibility in all directions.  The temperature dropped dramatically and before long we had donned fleeces and sailing jackets to compensate for the damp chill.  After we got used to it we were fairly comfortable and could still make out potential hazards such as crab traps, floating logs and of course boats.  We don't own a radar on Ge'Mara and this has been cause for concern in these conditions.  However I consoled myself with the knowledge that at our slow rate of speed we can turn to avoid most any hazard in plenty of time.  This also applied to another sailboats.  The big commercial traffic stays in the shipping lanes in the centre of the strait and the commercial fishing vessels stay pretty far out as well.  So all we needed to worry about is the 22 foot recreational fishing boats that seemed to have only 3 speeds:  Dead stop, slow troll or a million miles an hour.

The fog began half way to Port Renfrew

By now we were well into the Strait of Juan de Fuca and if we didn't know this from the charts we would know it from the ponderous, meter high swells that we were now riding.  To my relief, ocean swells are not nearly as uncomfortable to ride as the wind waves we are used to.  In fact, it was sort of mesmerizing to stand staring ahead, arms folded on top of the dodger, peering into the fog.  The only thing we could see for long moments at a time was the next swell emerging from the mist.  Without thinking we learned to shift our weight subtly while standing to ride the swells without losing balance or needing to grab for handholds.

At times like this, the only reprieve from the monotony of hours of motoring is a hot lunch.  I am the ships' cook and I know the importance of hearty food on board.  The ubiquitous lunchtime food on the boat is deli meat piled high on a Portuguese bun or bread of some sort.  But for colder days such as we were now experiencing hot food is important too.  A more recent favourite is grilled ham and cheese sandwiches.  Add to this steaming mugs of chicken noodle soup and the mood is guaranteed to improve.  Other new favourites are Kraft Dinner, ramen noodles and of course hot tea when lunch is over.  On this particular stretch I can't remember which of these we had but both the preparation and the consumption were a welcome distraction.

An example of a hot meal being prepared while underway

As evening approached we knew by the GPS chart plotter we were getting close to Port Renfrew.  Being careful to avoid the treacherous rocks at the entrance that we could hear but hear but not see, we made our turn into the bay, still effectively blind.  Then gladly as we came closer to the government dock at the end of the bay, the fog opened up enough to let the evening sky show through and illuminate our day's destination.

Our destination for the night in Port Renfrew.

The atmosphere here is all business.  Port Renfrew community dock is first and foremost a working fishing dock but it does have limited transient moorage.  There was an open stretch of dock available but some numbskull had tied up his dinghy right in the middle of it, preventing us from getting in.  We debated anchoring out but in the end we just called out to some fishermen on the dock and asked them to move the dinghy for us, which they did.

When we tied up we had a bit of de ja vous from a year ago.  The commercial fisherman who helped with the dinghy said "You might not want to tie up there broadside to the waves.  Boats leaving early in the morning scream out of here and the waves will pound your boat up good against that dock.  So inconsiderate" he added, with a look of disdain.  I felt a momentary kinship with him in my unfounded dislike for the sport fishermen.   A year ago in Desolation Sound we ignored similar advice from a similar kind of guy and paid the price for it.  But we were tired and anxious to go up to the pub for a beer and something to eat so we elected to deal with the issue later.

We were told to talk to a man named Perry up in the pub about the dock space.  We went inside and surveyed the customers.  The pub was actually quite modern looking but the clientele were pretty much as you'd expect.  When we came in they all turned looked at us, in the way that locals always look at visitors who walk into their pub.  We walked to the bar and asked the barmaid for Perry.  She indicated he was in the kitchen flipping burgers.  When we didn't go away she eventually disappeared into the back.  A few minutes later a guy walked out from the back and introduced himself as Perry.  He looked exactly like I thought he would.

We walked together toward the dock so he could see where we had tied up.  After looking it over he grunted his approval and motioned us back to the pub for some dinner.  "Sorry to keep you waiting" he said.  "Had to bring things down to a dull roar back there."

I asked what we owed him for the dock space, even though as a community dock it wasn't clear to me that there should be a charge at all.  He turned quickly and said "Fifty bucks."  David produced a 50 dollar bill and Perry stuffed it in his pocket and strode into the pub.  Apparently our financial transaction had concluded.  I guess a receipt was out of the question.

Back inside we each ordered pints of pale ale and huge plates of halibut and chips.  We dove into them hungrily but ran out of gas before they were finished.  The waitress later explained "Most of the people who come here have been out fishing or hiking the West Coast Trail.  They're always hungry."

A bit later as we sat digesting our food the waitress came over with a couple of shot glasses filled with a dark liquor that I guessed to be Jaegermeister.  "From Perry" she said.  We looked over and Perry smiled at us from behind the bar waving his own shot.  A few of the locals were chatting with him at the bar and they were also armed with shots.  "It'll warm your insides!" he said with gusto and downed his shot.  David and I downed ours and waived our thanks.  It turned out to be Black Sambuca and tequila.  Not something I would order but not entirely disagreeable after a day in the fog.

Just then we noticed that the guys sitting at the table next to us had a pile of life preservers next to them.  They turned out to be the guys that owned the sailboat anchored in the harbour and who left their dinghy in the middle of the dock.  We explained that we had moved their dinghy forward and all was good.  We determined that they too were heading to Barkely Sound.  I figured out which one of them owned the boat and chatted with him about my concerns for the next day.  "I'm worried about the fog and big wind coming up"  I said.  He shrugged his shoulders and said "It's a challenging sail."  I waited for some sage advice but none was forthcoming.

We walked back over to Perry to get the bill.  "Oh hey" he said, "I can't buy you another shot until next hour."

"We'd just like the bill thanks Perry."

"Oh sure, of course."  He looked a bit deflated.

We walked out of the pub feeling slightly ill from the pile of deep fried food, beers and the shot.  When we got to the boat we agreed to take our chances with the waves.  According to the fisherman, the problem was primarily from the armada of small fishing boats that leaves early in the morning.  We reasoned that we would leave even earlier and beat them out.  Problem solved.

We were asleep in seconds.

Barkley Sound - Adventures in "Fogust" - Part I

I'm not going to lie.  There were moments on this trip that made me question my interest in sailing or at least in the idea of the Epic Trip in a sailboat.  But there were great times as well.  On balance I think it will go down in memory as another winner.

Our departure date of August 1 was right in the middle of a heat wave in Vancouver and the forecast indicated nothing but sunshine and warm/hot weather for the duration of our trip.  Outstanding.  We knew that the Strait of Juan de Fuca is known for fog patches this time of year and naively I thought that the odd fog patch might be a welcome reprieve from the relentless sun.  Little did we know just how big that patch would be.

I arrived at the boat a tad late due to a chance late-night encounter with a drunk man, his 120ft yacht and a cigar.  But that's another story.

We slipped our moorings at 8:30 and motored out against a mild flood tide.  Once under the bridge we chose to forgo the normal tacking back and forth out of English Bay because we were on a mission to get across the strait to Porlier Pass by just after lunch.  We motored directly to the Point Grey bell buoy and raised the sails.  There was a brisk breeze that morning and soon we were heeled over and making 6 - 7 knots across the strait.  David was feeling a little wobbly on the boat after spending a month stuck ashore paying attention to fiscal year-end business, so I had the sailing duties which suited me just fine.  It was a fine crossing and we reached Porlier ahead of schedule.

One of our abiding concerns for this trip was the timeline.  I had flights booked to go fishing on August 14th and I would need some time in between trips.  We knew that the weather might be unpredictable on the far side of Vancouver Island so we wanted to get there as soon as possible in order to buy some wiggle room if we needed it.  As a result, we had planned long travel legs for the trip up, all between 40 and 50 nautical miles.  (We average about 5kts and occasionally less - you can do the math...)  So today we didn't stop in Clam Bay but proceeded south after transiting Porlier Pass towards our destination of Ganges Harbour on Saltspring Island.  We expected the northwest wind to continue and push us south toward Ganges but naturally it switched to blow out of the south and we had to motor against if for hours.

Ganges Harbour was a convenient stop for us but I had another motive for going there.  I had recently discovered that the author of one of my favourite books lived there.  On a whim I reached out to him and asked if I could buy him a beer and ask him some questions.  He graciously agreed and we were to meet that night.  I don't generally get worked up about meeting celebrities but I was really looking forward to meeting him.  Something about his book "The Water in Between" had touched a chord with me and I actually surprised myself at how eager I was to meet him.  As it happened, we couldn't connect.  Owing to a dinner party he had to attend, no e-mail or phone connectivity and an early night  to bed on my part, it didn't happen.  I was disappointed but we agreed by e-mail later in the trip to try again at some point.

Sunset at Ganges

Dawn in a crowded Ganges anchorage

Ge'Mara tied up in Ganges (on the left)

Leaving Ganges Harbour in Early morning

The next morning we threaded our way through the mass of anchored boats in Ganges Harbour and made for our next destination, Victoria Harbour.  I was looking forward to this stop as well.  I have visited Victoria many times and like everyone else have always been impressed with the view of the inner harbour, framed by the BC parliament buildings and the grand old Empress Hotel.  The thought of revisiting this pretty place from the water was novel to me.  I booked us a slip at the Coast Hotel and Marina, just outside the inner harbour but well within walking distance.

There is nothing much to report about our run down to Victoria other than it was a long day of motoring against wind and tide.  The boredom was relieved somewhat by the fact that we had never been this far south with Ge'Mara before so the sights were all new.  We motored past Sydney and entered the San Juan Islands, noting the interesting differences in geology between these and the Gulf Islands we are used to.  We fell into our usual routine of spelling each other off, one man taking watch while the other attending to something else.  For these long days of motoring, the autopilot was indispensable.

One of David's favourite pastimes was to go below and meticulously record our progress on the large charts he had insisted we purchase.  I have the entire collection of official charts for the BC coast on my computer and my I-Phone and I questioned the wisdom of spending a ton of money on huge paper charts as well.  He pointed out that electronic charts are subject to failure and I couldn't argue that point so now we have the paper ones too.  He couldn't have been happier sitting there pouring over the charts, his recently purchased navigational instruments arrayed before him.  Only once or twice did I point out that he was simply checking the GPS on his i-Phone to find our position and then marking it on the chart rather than taking a fix with a hand bearing compass as the traditional mariner is meant to do.  The contraction didn't seem to trouble him.

David's charts

Eventually we passed Trial Island and approached Victoria Harbour.  We motored in and easily spotted the Coast Hotel next to one of my old favourite spots, the Laurel Point Inn.  The Marina at the Coast Hotel is not effectively managed like a marina.  Rather they seem to treat it like just another collection of hotel rooms.  There was no attendant to speak with, nobody monitoring the VHF radio.  We eventually had to call the front desk and "check in" the old fashioned way.  There was some confusion as to the location of our slip, due to a really stupid numbering system and David and I disputed this issue for a few moments.  In my certainty of being correct I offered David a sizeable wager on the matter.  He gave me a blank stare and then made a dismissive gesture and walked away to show me where our slip actually was.  Given he was still paying off a bet that he had lost earlier I thought later that was pretty big of him.

Once settled in our slip we indulged in our happy hour routine and relaxed.  This was to be one of the best moments of each day.  Happy hour consisted of a strong German beer for David and a Dark and Stormy for me, along with some Hawkins cheesies, which just seem to go perfectly with the drink.  Presently a pretty young lady walked by on the dock and said hello over her shoulder.  Only spilling our drinks a little bit we sat up and engaged her in conversation.  This took very little encouragement as she was very sociable.  She explained that she worked for the whale watching outfit that was based out of the marina and she and her boyfriend lived on the houseboat just up the dock.  She pointed it out and it was a fine looking houseboat.  The roof was a patio of sorts, complete with comfortable deck chairs and a portable gas fireplace.  We ended up joining them a while later on the houseboat along with her boyfriends' brother and his wife, who also lived in the marina.  We had a very good time but it had the potential to be too good, so during a lull in conversation we excused ourselves and returned to Ge'Mara.  We were asleep before dark.

Two of our new friends at the dock

Ge'Mara tied up in Victoria

Before leaving Victoria the next morning I couldn't help doing a quick lap in the inner harbour.  The marina I had chosen was just around the corner so David and I had yet to experience the million dollar view of the Empress Hotel and the parliament buildings from the water.  We made a slow circle, took some pictures and then motored out, stopping briefly at Victoria Marine Fuels to top up on our diesel.  We were eager to head out now into the Juan de Fuca Strait.  In our minds, this would be the end of the leisurely part of our trip and the start of the challenging and exciting part.  We were both right and wrong in that assumption.