A New Gadget - and a Rant

A week ago David and I had an "interesting" morning on the water learning to bring Ge'Mara to heel under less than perfect conditions.  That day was cut short due to weather but I wasn't too worried because spring is here and along with it longer, warmer, sunnier days.  My Monday afternoon I had plans to go out after work on Wednesday afternoon with a colleague.  Unfortunately that plan fell through  and I ended up at the pub.  This was a disappointment because now I'm flying to Atlanta for the week so it will be a while until I get back to the boat.

So in the absence of sailing what is there to do?  The answer of course is hang out at the chandlery and look for something cool to buy.  This week it was the WindMate 200.

Ge'Mara doesn't have a wind speed gauge built into her as many new boats do.  Most experienced sailors are quick to dismiss the need for a wind gauge, invoking all kinds of wisdom about "feeling it on your face" or "after a while you just know."  The irony is that most of these guys have wind gauges.

For David and I, the primary value of a wind guage is to validate our terror when we're in over our heads.  The theory is, when the wind is really blowing and we're in trouble, we'll simply break out the WindMate 200, hold it up into the wind and bingo - hard data to back up our harrowing stories back at the dock.  Of course, this plan comes with the risk that the WindMate returns a less than impressive reading and confirms that we're not only neophytes but worse, pansies.

The WindMate 200

The more practical application for this little gadget is to help us understand what a given amount of wind really feels like.  We're still learning how much wind is too much wind, and at what point we should consider reefing.  Our experience with wind forecasts here is that they are wildly inaccurate given all of the variables so we need a little more hard data on what we're actually experiencing so we can better judge in the future how to prepare and react.

A Bit of a Rant
On the subject of boat improvements, I've shared already that we are still looking to do some upgrades, a new anchor light chief among them.  The one guy we've had down to the boat has been pretty good but he was quick to tell us that he doesn't go up the mast under any circumstances.  He explained that for that job we need to find a rigger.  We quickly got a referral to a guy who is reputedly one of the best  around and we gave him a call - and left a message.  We would soon discover this is standard operating procedure with marine service guys.  Nobody, under any circumstances, is immediately available to talk.  When we got a call back we told him what we wanted and he assured us he could do this without breaking a sweat but he couldn't guarantee when he could come.  We said no problem we can wait.  After about a month of waiting we started looking for someone else.  I found some professional looking websites that promised all manner of marine services and I made a few calls.  In every case I got either an answering machine or a service that featured a young lady who, between bubble gum chews, explained she had no idea what I was asking about and that I'd have to leave a message.  This I did and several days later we're still no closer to securing someone to replace our anchor light.

Apparently the marine service business in Vancouver is very good indeed.

A Little Excitement, A Little Learning

After what seemed like forever, I've been able to get Ge'Mara back on the water this week and she's more the happier for it.  I'm pretty pleased as well.

On Tuesday of this week I returned from Chicago with a new team member that I hired.  The plan was to arrive in Vancouver about noon and work for the afternoon.  I discovered at some point that he grew up sailing on the South Florida coast so we quickly made the connection and determined to at least introduce him to Ge'Mara some time during the week.  As it happened, the weather for the week peaked on Tuesday with beautiful sunny skies and rain in the forecast for the balance of the week.  I made a command decision and used what was left of Tuesday to take him sailing.  Not only was it a great time but it signalled that weather permitting we can start taking advantage of weekday evenings to get a little more sailing in.

After a few days of wind and rain the weather seemed to break a little bit on the weekend.  Sunday morning found David and I down at the boat at 8:30 and busy preparing for a day on the water.  We were expecting a nice puff to be left over from the previous days storms and with an early start we hoped to get as far as Gibsons for lunch.  I noted with satisfaction that we're getting used to the boat and our preparations for sail proceeded in a businesslike fashion.  Our follies with raising the dinghy seem like a distant memory and these days the entire process takes less than 5 minutes.

We were greeted in English Bay by the traditional rollers that we've come to expect if the wind has been blowing for a while and we had fun motoring through them on the way to slightly smoother water beyond the bridge.  We didn't need to look at our wind indicator this day to know what we had to work with and after a brief discussion we decided to leave the sail ties on the main and begin with a reefed genoa to test the waters, as it were.  It wasn't long before we were making 5 knots under nothing but a well-reefed jib.  As I've mentioned before, the wind most commonly blows from the NorthWest directly into English Bay.  This day was no different and we tacked back and forth, clawing our way closer and closer to Point Atkinson.  The seas were larger than anything we had ever been in but we had the boat nicely under control.  The waves crashing over the bow were exhilerating.

Sailing in a busy harbour has it's challenges and one of them is dodging the up to 20 massive freighters that are anchored in the bay.  These things are so large that they create their own wind patterns, further frustrating a sailors efforts.  In one case we were beating close to the wind on a course to just barely clear the anchor chain of a large tanker.  With the wind pushing us slightly sideways we got close enough to smell the anchovies on the tanker captain's sandwich before we gave up the attempt and tacked away towards West Vancouver.

Another phenomena I should be used to by now is the difference in wind speed between the East and West side of the bay.  As we tacked to the East side of the bay towards West Vancouver we were making up to 7.5 knots, now under a full genoa.  We had unfurled the rest of the headsail because on our last tack to the east the wind seemed to lighten.  I can't say how many times I've been fooled by this and after another tack towards the west the wind strengthened and we were soon over canvased.  We struggled to manage the boat this way for a while, sailing closer and closer into the wind in an attempt to keep from being overpowered.  However it wasn't long before we were blown well over a couple of times, an experience made all the more unnerving by the large waves hitting us abeam.  We started the engine and got the boat under control long enough to reduce the genoa again and settle back in on a port tack towards Point Atkinson but soon it became apparent that with the strength of the wind we might need to tack yet again in order to clear the point.  Enough was enough.

We turned the boat back towards the Lions Gate bridge and let the headsail well out in preparation for a broad reach.  Immediately the boat calmed down and we set ourselves to the business of following the wind and surfing the rather large rollers that we're coming off our stern.  Even though Ge'Mara's hull has a physical speed limitation (hull speed) of 7.5kts, we were effectively surfing now.  With much of the hull being lifted out of the water with each large wave we averaged about 8 Kts all the way home, with peak speed of 9.3Kts.  Fun :)

Back at the dock we had buttoned up and sat below listening to the wind howling in the rigging.  The weather had taken an unforeseen  turn and the wind was now blowing hard from the East - 180 degrees from it's original direction.  Had we stayed out and made Snug Cove for lunch we would have had a long, miserable upwind sail home in the rain.  We toasted our day and good fortune with our old friend Glen(livet) and went home to restful afternoon and a hot meal.

Landlubber Blues

It's Friday morning and over my coffee I'm pondering my second consecutive weekend - and second consecutive week - of no sailing.  There is a window of opportunity tomorrow but after Easter weekend I'm no longer quite as stoked to go out in marginal weather.  The forecast is calling for rain with sunny breaks in the afternoon and a high of 10 degrees or so.  Even if I was up for it, David has bowed out due to illness and the weather definitely won't meet Brenda's minimum standards.

I've even run out of stupid questions to ask on the sailing forum, and people have long since finished answering the ones I asked a while ago.  So here I sit, Googling obscure sailing terms and eyeing the boats out my window in False Creek.  I suppose for a while longer I'll have to be satisfied reading about other people's adventures.  Here's a couple of examples:

Cruising Lealea:  A retired couple cruises between the west coast and Hawaii on a 27 ft sailboat
http://www.youtube.com/user/vega1860/videos?flow=grid&view=1

Another blog about sailing to Hawaii
http://macsinvan.blogspot.ca

Wish List

After a stellar Easter weekend, Vancouver weather has reverted to type.  Rain, cloud and occasionally heavy winds are the order of the day.  A couple of months ago David and I would not have been deterred by a little rain but with all the sailing we've done recently we are both content to occupy ourselves with other things for a while.  With that said, the boat is not far from my thoughts.

Our first three months of sailing have been a huge learning experience for us, as many of my blog posts would suggest.  As we're getting to know the boat we're beginning to identify and mentally prioritize various upgrades.  I'm learning this is a disease common to all boaters.  As if general maintenance and upkeep isn't expensive enough, every boater wants more stuff.  It's not by coincidence that owners define a boat as "a big hole in the water you throw money into."  Some even say that the word BOAT is really an acronym, meaning Bring Out Another Thousand.  In fact, in the parlance of boat owners, $1000 = 1 Boat Unit.  Even if items appear to be much less expensive than that, somehow things add up and before you know it, your quick and inexpensive upgrade ended up costing you a Grand.

I referred to some early upgrades in a previous post, such as new lifelines, new water heater, stereo etc..  These we deemed basic necessities.  The only item on that list still outstanding is a replacement anchor light.  This light is at the very top of the mast and must be left on at night when at anchor so other boats are aware of your presence should they be maneuvering in the dark.  Ours is burnt out so we plan on replacing it with an efficient LED model that will draw fewer amps from the batteries.  Unfortunately this requires someone going up the mast.  David and I have decided to leave that task to a pro.

New lifelines

New clutches

New stereo with I-Pod jack

The items I'm thinking of now are net-new, in the sense that Ge'Mara has never been equipped with them before.  Here's a few things I'm currently coveting:

Anchor Windlass
One of the best parts of coastal cruising is finding peaceful little places to anchor and relax, perhaps eating, drinking or even spending the night.  Setting the anchor is a pretty simple process but bringing it back up can be hard work and a little unpleasant at times.  A sailboat anchor typically has about 30' of heavy chain, followed by a few hundred feet of rope.  On Ge'Mara, this must be retrieved manually.  The lucky person who gets to haul it in is not only in for a bit of a workout but will also get quite wet in the process.  An electric windlass will do all of this work for you, such that brining in the anchor is a simple matter of pushing a button.  The windlass winds the anchor rode back up and lets it fall into the anchor locker.  It's not always a seamless process but most certainly better than retrieving it by hand.  Cost:  $400 - $1,000

Typical examples of anchor windlass 

Autopilot
This may seem like a bit of a luxury but when you spend the entire day sailing or motoring it can get a bit tiring to always have to be at the helm.  Even with more than one person on the boat there are times when the helmsman might wish to take a break or attend to something that needs doing.  For boats that make long passages and require 24 hour attention to the helm, autopilots or wind vanes are considered a necessity.  Another advantage of an autopilot is the opportunity for single handing.  While I'm not ready for that just yet, I can see wanting to try it in the future.  Cost:  $1,000 - $1,500 installed.

An autopilot setup, consisting of the control head and the bit that attaches to the wheel

Whisker Pole
Most people find sailing downwind to be the most pleasant point of sail.  The boat isn't heeled over, the wind seems to disappear and yet you are making good speed.  In light air however, it can be difficult to make the sails behave.  Often the genoa (headsail) will be flapping around in want of a bit more wind to keep it full.  A whisker pole essentially holds the sail out into the wind and prevents it from collapsing when the ship roles on a wave or the wind momentarily dies for any other reason.  This simple device, combined with a preventer rigged to secure the mainsail boom from swinging, makes downwind sailing  much more pleasant.  Cost:  $124 - $400

An example of a whisker pole in use

Here Comes the Sun: Day 2 - Sunday

After a great Good Friday sail with David the time was long overdue to turn my attention to the home front.  Brenda had generously arranged her weekend to accommodate my Friday trip and in return the rest of the weekend belonged to her.  We spent a nice afternoon walking in the Easter sunshine and made an Italian meal for ourselves that evening.  Across that day we speculated about how to spend Easter Sunday.  To my surprise, Brenda wanted to go sailing.

On Sunday morning before leaving we considered the question of lunch.  (I'm a bit like a Hobbit - issues of food are of paramount concern.)  After my gushing description of the bacon cheeseburger at Bowen Island Pub, Brenda was anxious to try one.  Given her tiny appetite and the fact I'd just had one two days before, we agreed to split one.  Thinking further, I remembered how packed Snug Cove was on Friday and suggested we bring some buns and lunch meat just in case.

The wind had been blowing nicely the weekend and the forecast called for winds potentially over 20 knots.  David suggested we put in a reef before we left the dock and after mulling it over I decided he was right.  In the calm of Coal Harbour Marina the reefing procedure went smoothly and quickly, to my immense satisfaction.  I imagined that the man and woman sitting on the seawall nearby were impressed with my expertise.  Fortunately they weren't around when later in the day I tried to raise the main fully without releasing the reefing lines.

Leaving the dock that day, the sun was warmer than even Friday, with the forecast for 20 degrees.  We agreed this was more like the May long weekend than Easter.  With only a t-shirt on we rounded Burnaby Shoal and let the ebbing tide pull us out into English Bay at over 8 knots.  To our surprise and delight we found wind right away and as soon as we were at a safe distance from Stanley Park the sails were up and we were on a comfortable close reach across the bay, pointed for Jericho.

This was one of the few times I've been able to sail all the way out of English Bay from Stanley Park.  The wind was perfect so we didn't really need the reef but it was nice to know, for Brenda's sake, that we were prepared for stronger winds should we encounter them.  Besides, even with the reef we were consistently making 5 knots and occasionally 6.

A couple of hours later we motored into Snug Cove, hungry for lunch.  A quick scan of the government dock revealed not a single empty slip.  Sheepishly I hailed the marina on the radio, knowing full well they were booked this weekend.  Having received the answer I expected, we motored out of Snug Cove en route to our alternate.

Seymour Bay is a small cove at the South end of Bowen Island that offers protection from all but East winds.  We were visiting here for the first time on the suggestion of a friend and I'm glad we did.  This was my first time anchoring this boat outside of practice and it went very well.  Brenda and I had done this before on a charter boat so there was no drama at all.  Once securely anchored we enjoyed bunwiches packed with fresh ham, tomato and cheese, along with a bowl of chicken soup.  While we were lunching a couple of other boats anchored nearby.  One was a small but very well equipped ocean going sailboat, complete with a wind vane setup for long voyages.  As he passed close to us on the way to his anchorage I greeted him with hopes of pummelling him with questions about his boat and experiences.  Perhaps he sensed the onslaught because as soon as he was securely anchored he went below and stayed there.

Being anchored on a nice day in a secluded cove is a purely wonderful experience.  In truth, moments like this on rented boats are a large part of what prompted me to buy one of my own.  We hung around for a while, soaking up the beauty of the area and the unusual warmth of this early spring day.  A look at my watch broke the spell and soon Brenda was tidying up below and I was shaking the reef out of the mainsail.

Out of the bay we had a brief period of wind that shot us across the outside of English Bay on a beam reach at 7.5 knots - our top speed.  Unfortunately after a few exhilarating minutes of this the wind died. We turned downwind and tried in vain for a while but it was clear that the sailing part of our day was over. Reluctantly we started the engine and the long motor home. 

As we puttered along at 5 kts Brenda noticed another boat to starboard flying a colourful spinnaker.  As we watched it soon became apparent this vessel would overtake us even though we were motoring.  I was having none of that and in short order the sails were out again and we attempted to fly wing-on wing - the closest we could get to a spinnaker configuration without having one.  For a while it looked like we might put up a fight but in the end the little boat beside us left us astern on her way to wherever she was headed. 

A spinnaker beats no spinnaker every time.

With this minor humiliation finished we received a text with a late invitation for a barbecue at a friends place.  Once again we brought in the sails and motored home, looking forward to a sunset barbecue to end a terrific weekend.

Here Comes the Sun: Day 1 - Friday

One of the advantages of buying and sailing a boat in winter is that your expectations are quickly tempered.  I hear talk of people learning to sail in the Caribbean and I can only imagine what that's like.  I have no idea what it is to sail on my boat in just shorts and a t-shirt.  And so it is that with the arrival of a sunny Easter weekend, I feel blessed.  I should say that this was no ordinary weekend.  Easter in Vancouver is often quite nice but this year we were treated to glorious sunshine and temperatures approaching 20 degrees.

My first sail was on Good Friday with David.  We had contemplated taking advantage of the long weekend to do something more than day sailing but both of us were overdue for some quality time with our ladies so day sailing it was.  Friday morning was gorgeous.  Then again, as we sail deeper and deeper into spring, each outing seems to top the last.

We motored into English Bay to find the West side filled with sails of all descriptions.  At first I thought this was just a random boaters taking advantage of the first really nice weather of the year but David explained that it was the start of a yacht race called Southern Straits, sponsored by West Vancouver Yacht Club.  They start at Dunderave pier in West Vancouver and depending which course they have chosen, sail to Nanaimo or further North and back to Halibut Bank.  These were serious boats with sails made out of some kind of high tech material.  The dudes all seemed very serious as we passed the starting point and I was just as happy not to be among them.

After fiddling around near Lighthouse Park trying to spot a friends house on the shore, we raised the sails and tried to find wind.  For a while it was slow going but we consoled ourselves by noting another sailboat off our bow that was similarly bobbing around.  Soon though, the wind freshened and with a few tweaks to the sail trim we were clipping along nicely.  We quickly overtook our nearby friends and passed them with a wave and a friendly comment - one of the little pleasantries that boaters observe (although more so it seems, on sunny days).  As we left them astern we were more than a little pleased with ourselves at having actually passed someone while under sail.  Maybe we are starting to get the hang of this...

David was up for another Burger at Bowen Island Pub and I wasn't about to argue so after a couple of hours of fine sailing we pulled into Snug cove and found one of the last spots at the government wharf. We later learned that Union Steamship Marina in Snug Cove had been fully booked for months.  90 minutes later we slipped our moorings and headed toward home.  Davids eyes had been bigger than his stomach so he was groaning and complaining about how full he was but he refused to go below for nap.

As usual, on the long downwind run back toward the Lions Gate Bridge we both settled into our own thoughts and stared off to the horizon, contemplating the growing cityscape before us and the snow-capped mountains to our left, bathed in the waning sun of another perfect day.

Training Day: VHF and Digital Selective Calling

It was a sunny day today but this weekend's boating activities were restricted the classroom.

Most boats over 20ft or so have a VHF radio.  For coastal cruising in the age of cell phones it's tempting to think of the radio as unnecessary but it is actually an important safety tool and as such, worth knowing how to use properly.  VHF radio is also the basis for more advanced and very useful technologies such as Digital Selective Calling (DSC) and Automatic Information System (AIS).  Not everybody cares about such things but in the end, you need to have a radio on a boat our size and you need to have a permit to operate it so hence David and I we found ourselves in the classroom today.

We learned that there is a hierarchy to for the types of calls one can make/receive on a VHF radio.  In order of priority they are:

1) Distress - Boater is in immediate danger.  Radio hail: Mayday, Mayday Mayday
2) Urgent - Boater is in difficulty but not immediate danger.  Radio hail: Pan, Pan, Pan
3) Safety - Weather or navigational hazard.  Radio hail:  Securite, Securite, Securite
4) Everything else

We have been hearing all of these words and terms on the radio while sailing but it's nice to know now what it all means.  More importantly, we know how to use the radio properly in case of an emergency.  Beyond that, the really cool part is the spinoff technologies such as AIS that are becoming commonplace.  Vessels equipped with AIS use the VHF radio to continuously transmit information about their location and heading, along with general info such as vessel size and MMSI number.  This new tool has made it possible for boaters to see all commercial boating activity around them in order to avoid close calls or even collisions.

A vessel the size of Ge'Mara doesn't need an AIS transmitter but we can still benefit from seeing what everyone else is doing.  For this we don't even need a special piece of equipment - there are I-Phone apps that display AIS data from ships in the area superimposed on a map.  So for example, when we leave Coal Harbour for a sail we can check our "Shipfinder" AIS app and see what tugs, freighters or tankers are heading under the Lions Gate Bridge and make plans to avoid them.

All in all it was day well spent.  I was happy enough with the 83% mark I received on the test but mildly perturbed that David beat me by a point.

A New Challenge - Day 2

In my experience, everything always looks better in the morning and this day was no exception.  The night had been reasonably quiet.  Even though we could hear the wind howling in the rigging, the water in our little cove remained relatively calm.  In the dead of night on a boat you become acutely aware of everything that is not properly secured and the wave action produces a symphony of creaks, bumps and other noises made by loose items.  These must be systematically dealt with, lest they drive you completely mad or at the very least, keep you from a decent nights sleep.  After getting up several times to make adjustments I settled in to what was quite a restful night except for the occasional bumping of the dinghy against the transom.  This was mildly irritating, not just because of the noise but because we had taken care to properly secure the dinghy before retiring.  Demonstrating to David some skills I learned in my sailing classes, I tied the dinghy tight into the transom by both the bow and stern, leaving three fenders in between to act as a buffer.  Foolproof I thought.

Anyway, with the diesel heater humming and the coffee pot gurgling I opened the hatch and peeked outside to find a beautiful blue sky.  Such a relief after the night before.  I went below again to pour a cup of coffee and returned the to the cockpit for a good look around.  Morning is my absolute favourite time of day and for long moments I sat and contemplated our beautiful surroundings, disturbed only by the sound of the dinghy bumping the boat.  I still had no idea what I had done wrong until David mentioned that two of our brand new fenders that we had tied to the transom were gone.  In my haste I had used simple clove hitches to tie the fenders to the stern rail - great knots for temporary use and quick release but apparently not so secure.  Only one of the three remained.

We briefly contemplated a light breakfast, given the feast of steak we had enjoyed not that many hours earlier.  We dismissed this thought quickly and David made an excellent spread of bacon and eggs, supported by leftover potato and onions from the previous night.

While he was below cooking I stepped onto the foredeck and confronted the problem of reefing.  In the light of day and with the help of caffeine I realized my problem:  I had attempted to reef without releasing the mainsheet or boom vang.  These both create downward pressure on the boom and must be eased in order to put in a reef.  After breakfast David and I came back up top and put in a double reef and tied up the excess mainsail at the bottom with the reefing lines.  As I was doing this I realized that this is where you're supposed to use a reef knot.  It was all coming together.  Then I looked up and saw a boat fender floating out of the cove.  For a brief moment I thought it was one of the ones we lost the night before but to my dismay I realized it was the third fender that hadn't managed to work its way loose.  After loosing two brand new fenders we didn't have the sense to properly secure the third one.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Not long after we slipped our moorings and headed out of the cove to start the return trip using a reciprocal course from yesterday.  We knew to expect heavy wind but we were reasonably confident having pre-reefed the main.  After motoring for a few moments into the middle of the channel we tentatively raised the main in the blustery wind and found it more than manageable.  Today would be mostly downwind which any sailor will tell you is a much more comfortable point of sail.  As we gained confidence we used more and more of the headsail and eventually settled into a beautiful downwind run at 6 knots.  As is the case when running downwind, you'd have thought we were standing still.

The winds in the Gulf Islands of BC are notoriously fickle as they are influenced by so many factors.  After a fun and relaxing downwind run between Bowen and Gambir Islands we turned the corner into Howe Sound and died.  I've heard that the trade winds in the Caribbean blow continuously day after day in the same direction and velocity.  I look forward to experiencing that.

We motored through Queen Charlotte Channel past Snug Cove and prepared for the last leg of our trip.  We knew that the wind was blowing at close to 25 knots from the Strait of Georgia directly into English Bay.  Brenda had e-mailed me a picture of a sailboat that had already gone aground in the bay and her message wasn't lost on me.  We ventured out into the strait with our double reefed main and very limited headsail.  At this point the wind and waves were on our beam and I prepared for heeling well over but our preparation paid off and the boat was well under control.  We headed well toward Point Grey before we made our turn downwind toward home in order to optimize our point of sale.

Once we made our turn it was like riding a restless but benign race horse.  The wind pushed us effortlessly to our boat's top speed of 7 knots, even with a reefed main.  Quartering seas made it a challenge to keep the boom on one side as the boat rocked with each big roller that passed beneath.  It was great fun.

As we neared the Lions Gate bridge it was a great temptation to continue sailing right under the bridge but that isn't allowed so reluctantly we turned her nose back into the wind and doused the sails.  Another trip over, a few more lessons learned.  Some minor, some significant, all valuable.

A New Challenge - Day 1

It's mid-March and we've had the boat for over two months now.  Over that time we've had quite a few day trips that offered a mixed bag of sailing.  But the last few day-sails have been terrific, with sunny weather, reasonably good wind and the discovery of possibly the best bacon-cheeseburger ever made.

Buoyed by our successes, David and I decided to take on a bigger challenge.  Time for an overnight trip.  Let me just say at this point that spending the entire night and the better part of two days on a boat is best done with one's wife/girlfriend, for obvious reasons.  Unfortunately neither of our partners are particularly keen on venturing out on the boat for any length of time much before the month of June.  So a guys trip it is - and just as well.  It turns out we have a few more kinks to iron out before we formally introduce the ladies to the pleasures of sailing.

The forecast for the weekend was rain on Saturday, a bit of sun on Sunday and lots of wind the whole time.  In fact there was a gale warning for the overnight hours.  For some reason this didn't worry us half as much as it probably should have.

We headed out just after lunch on Saturday afternoon with lots of wind blowing on shore.  That same West wind blew directly in our faces as we arrived at English Bay and we knew we would be in for a long and time consuming series of tacks to get to our first waypoint and turn away from the wind.  We opted, for different reasons this time, to motor directly to Point Atkinson.  The plan was to go behind Bowen Island, past Gambier and around the back side of Keats Island, finally settling in Plumper Cove, a little marine preserve just opposite Gibsons, BC.

Our Route from Vancouver to Plumper Cove

Past the point we picked up a bit of wind in Howe Sound next to Bowen and decided to raise the sails.  We made decent way downhill until it was time to turn the corner and then, WHAM!  Even though we were only flying a partial headsail, the boat heeled way over in protest.  Normally this would be our cue to douse the sails and motor, but not today.  I hove the boat to in preparation for reefing the main.  As I was taught I backwinded the genoa and applied full opposite rudder.   The boat frustratingly spun around for a bit but finally settled and we were hove to.  I set about trying to reef the main but something wasn't working.  Meanwhile we were drifting into the ferry lane and the Queen of Surrey was bearing down on us fast.  Reluctantly I gave up on reefing and we started the iron sail once again.

We had gotten a late start so even though the wind seemed manageable at times we decided to just motor on to our destination to ensure we had plenty of daylight to secure a mooring buoy and settle in.  We spent what seemed to be a very long time motoring on through a strong headwind, growing seas and rain.  Somewhere along the way we realized that this was the start of what the gale warning was forecasting.  It occurred to us not for the first time that this may not have been a great plan.

By the time we pulled into Plumper Cove the rain was driving hard and stinging our faces.  There were a few boats already tied up at shore and a few people huddled under cover looking at us like they wondered if we knew what we were doing.  Fortunately I had done this before.  Catching a mooring buoy is like landing an airplane:  You come in on a downwind approach, turn crosswind and then make your final approach to the buoy into the wind so you won't get blown off course.  David huddled on the bow with the boat hook ready to snag the buoy and both of us willed him not to miss it.  Fortunately he caught it like an expert and had the bow line secured in no time.  The people on shore turned back to what they were doing, their disappointment at our success obvious.  We went below and made a cup of tea and drank in silence - neither one of us wanting to be the one to suggest this was a bad idea.

After calling a knowledgeable friend and confirming that no, the mooring buoy would not break free in high wind, we decided to settle in for the night rather than bolting across the channel to Gibsons.  To our great relief the wind seemed to change direction.  Initially it seemed that the full force of the forecasted 35 knot winds would be blowing directly into our little cove but after a while it shifted and while we heard it howling in the trees at higher elevation, Plumper Cove was blessedly calm.  We were even able to fire up the barbecue and grill the ridiculously large steaks I had purchased for the occasion.  A bit later we chewed our beef and drank red wine with droopy eyes.  Not long after that we were ensconced in opposite ends of the boat, snug in our sleeping bags and snoring fiercely.

More Great Sailing...

...And more things to fix.

Once again the forecast called for outstanding weather on Saturday March 9 so I made plans with my buddy for a day on the boat.  All in all it was uneventful but fun - the best kind of day.  Unlike last week with David when the wind was a bit hairy and the VHF was full of reports of people running aground,  this was the perfect wind.  English Bay was once again glassy but I'm not getting fooled by that anymore and we found the forecasted wind just past Point Atkinson.  We had good fun playing around off Bowen Island and when we got hungry it was a beautiful downwind run into Howe Sound right up to the entrance to Snug Cove.

English Bay was like glass as usual but good wind was on the horizon

Unfortunately we had a bit of a snag.  When I went to drop the main, the halyard wouldn't release.  The clips that secure the main lines coming into the cockpit are an older type that I had never seen prior to seeing Ge'mara.  Neither David or I are huge fans of them but they seemed to be working - until now.  We had turned 180 degrees back into the wind under power to get the sails down and now we were slowly motoring further and further away from Sung Cove and my burger and beer while the halyard stubbornly refused to release.  I finally went below, fished out a screwdriver from the toolbox and was able to "encourage" the clip to release.  As I set about doing this I noticed that the wheel that bites into the line had been scored by something.  None of the other clips bore these marks.  I realized then that someone before me had been forced into a screwdriver intervention.  Likely we'll have to replace the clips - the ability to quickly release the main halyard is not a convenience, it's a safety issue.  I'm glad we encountered this on a nice day rather than during a sudden squall when we needed the main down in a hurry.

The main halyard clip (right) is starting to jam and will need to be replaced

We got the main down soon enough and enjoyed another great lunch at Bowen Island Pub.  Heading back out we were greeted by that same South wind blowing into Howe Sound and we were able to bring Ge'Mara's sails up in record time. We settled into a perfect point of sail for us to round Point Atkinson and head for home.  Nothing had changed in English Bay since the morning so we ran out of wind once we came around the point.  No matter, it had been a great day.  So with the help of the screwdriver I once again released the main halyard and doused the sails.  We motored in and enjoyed the view of snow capped mountains against a backdrop of brilliant blue skies.  What's not to like?