Midsummer Sailing - A Boating Vacation

For the last 15 years, my summer vacation schedule has revolved around my employer's fiscal year end of July 31.  I work in sales so the run-up to year end is sometimes frantic and necessitates limited time off in June and July.  While others are relaxing I am working deals and struggling to find ways to get contracts with Fortune 500 companies through our legal process.  It's exhausting but the payoff is comes with a bang on August 1.  August is the warmest, most reliable month of the year here in Vancouver and I have learned to love the sense of release that comes with leaving the office behind on July 31 and taking most of August to relax and for the first time this year, sail.

We planed a 5 day trip to start off our vacation that featured stops on both sides of the Georgia Strait.  Our first stop was one of my favourites so far, Long Bay on Gambier Island.  It's an almost fiord-like spot, cutting deep into the island to form a cozy, almost insular anchorage.  At the end of the bay there is a public dock that is little used even in the height of summer that serves as a jumping off point for exploring the many trails that criss cross the island.  We made a point of rowing ashore and doing that on our first full day at anchor and it was great to get the exercise.  Later on we relaxed on the boat for a while nursing a Dark n Stormy and some cheesies as a reward.  (Yeah, I know...)

Relaxing with a Dark n Stormy after the hike

As idylic as it was in Long Bay, we were getting antsy so before long we pulled up the anchor and motor-sailed to Gibsons, BC, home of Molly's Reach (of CBC's Beachcombers fame) and my favourite local spot, Smitty's Oyster Bar.  I was hoping to pull right up to the public dock that is owned by the restaurant but this time of year space for a 34ft boat on a public dock is pretty rare.  Instead we anchored just off shore and rowed the dinghy ashore for a plate of Oysters and an ice cold lager.

We knew that a good friend of ours with his own beautiful 40ft sailboat would be out sailing this same weekend.  Turns out he was just across the bay in Plumper Cove so he came across with his brother and sister in law in their dinghy to join us.  She had just caught a nice 5 lb salmon off the back of their boat and before long we had an invitation to come back for the night to Plumper Cove and enjoy their catch with them for dinner.  This we did.  Sitting on the flying bridge of their 50ft power boat in broad comfy chairs, it was easy to see the attraction to the "dark side" of boating - under power.  Plumper Cove was packed with boats and the beautiful Cape-Cod style homes along the shore were packed with beautiful people partying well into the night.  Between the revellers on shore and the little marine park packed with boats of every description, this was like the nautical equivalent to a KOA campground.  It was a pleasant night but I made a mental note to avoid Plumper Cove in high season.

Our friend motoring out of Plumper Cove right behind us

The next morning we were up early and preparing for a quick departure.  We agreed to sail with our friend across the strait to Porlier Pass and on to Clam Bay on Thetis Island as our next stop.  We needed to leave early in order to enter the strait through the appropriately named Shoal Channel which becomes perilously shallow at low tide.  I'd never used this route before but I felt comfortable following the lead of our experienced friend.  Just as we were both ready to haul up our anchors he called with a glitch.  Neither of us had thought to check the currents at Porlier Pass.  I turned out that Porlier would be flooding at close to  7kts when we planned to arrive which would make it impossible to transit.  We debated powering down and waiting until noon to make the crossing but in the end we were both ready to sail so we decided to leave anyway and kill time on the other side waiting for the tide to change.

After feeling our way through Shoal Channel and sweating a bit with only 12ft of depth at one point, we raised the main and started to sail.  There was a decent puff forecasted so we reefed the main before leaving Porlier.  This turned out to be a great idea.  With about 12kts of wind we had a spectacular sail most of the way across, averaging 6.5kts and a perfectly balanced boat.  I was amazed at how little heel we had given our speed and I made yet another mental note of the importance of good sail trim.

We reefed the main and still made 7kts

Sailing side by side across the strait - until
he left us in his wake!

At one point in the crossing our friend, who was well ahead of us in his bigger, faster boat, turned around and came back towards us.  It seemed like he wanted to come close enough to hail us and we were worried that something had gone wrong on his boat.  To our relief he simply wanted to take some pictures of us under sail.  These I will include in this post as soon as he sends them to me.

As we came to the end of our crossing the cloud that had been dogging us finally cleared and left us with glorious sunshine and heat.  Unfortunately we also lost our wind but it had been a great sail so we were happy to start the engine and motor the last little bit to Porlier Pass.  Our friend had decided it was safe to transit the pass but with our smaller boat and inexperience we decided to wait for an hour or so before our attempt.  We pulled into a small bay at the mouth of the pass, dropped the anchor and made some lunch.  We were on the Northernmost part of Galiano Island.  Nearby there was a family relaxing on the beach, the kids splashing in the water.  We sat in the cockpit enjoying overstuffed sandwiches and cold beer.  What could be better?

After an hour or so we left our little bay and headed into Porlier Pass which had now spent most of her energy and put up only a modest challenge.  Soon we were through and threading our way through the few small islands between us and Clam Bay.  Still smarting from our humiliating encounter with a rock in this area earlier this year I kept a close eye on my charts and depth sounder.  Before long we came to Clam Bay, a large placid anchorage that was once again filled with boats but was large enough not to feel too cramped.  We located our friend who was already lounging at anchor and took up station nearby.  No sooner than I had set the anchor and jumped in the water for a dip, someone from a nearby boat started calling over to us.  He was rafted to another boat and planned to add a 3rd to their little party and he was concerned that I was anchored to close.  At first I was miffed at the affront but I moved the boat further away and on reflection I had to admit that he was probably right.  Later that evening I dinghied our friend over from his boat and we all enjoyed happy hour followed by an ample dinner of barbecued steak and salmon.

The next morning we said our farewells to our friend as he headed off to attend to his own plans.  In turn we left Clam Bay and enjoyed a gentle sail down the East side of Wallace Island.  We were due at Telegraph Harbour Marina later that day so I thought we would explore the popular anchorages on Wallace and surrounding area before heading to the marina.  I was disappointed to discover how cramped and crowded these anchorages were (at least at this time of year).  All of them required a stern tie, which means that after anchoring someone has to dinghy to shore with a line from the stern of the boat to wrap around a tree and bring it back to the boat.  This seems like entirely too much work for the privilege of packing in like a sardine beside other boats so I ruled this out as a future option, at least in high season.

Later that day we pulled into picturesque Telegraph Harbour and tied up at the marina.  There is a balance that exists between the allure of life at anchor and life at the dock.  A night at anchor offers seclusion and quiet (most places) and is free of charge.  On the other hand, the marina offers the promise of a hot shower, power to run the refrigerator non-stop, fresh water to refresh depleted supplies, the ability to get on an off the boat at will and the opportunity to socialize with others at the dock. We took full advantage of all of these luxuries and soon we were relaxing with a drink on the boat feeling fresh from a shower and ready to meet our dock neighbours.

We decided that for a change we would walk to the other side of the harbour to the pub and have dinner off the boat.  We enjoyed the beautiful walk around the Island but found the pub menu lacking for our tastes so we returned to that boat and cobbled together a dinner of fresh guacamole and chips along with barbecued smokies on Portuguese buns.

A shot of pastoral Thetis Island near the ferry terminal 

By the next morning we were both feeling like we'd had enough of boat life for this go around and were ready to head home.  The tides at Porlier Pass dictated that we leave in good time anyway and before noon we shot through into the strait and began our crossing.  It wasn't quite as thrilling as our trip over but it was pleasant and uneventful, just the way Brenda likes it.  The last third of the trip home we needed to motor, which got me thinking.  An autopilot really is helpful.  There is nothing quite so boring and frustrating as having to stand vigil at the helm of a boat under power, doing only 5kts, for hour after hour.  I contemplated the next planned sail with David, this one 7 days, towards Desolation Sound.  Whereas before an autopilot seemed like a luxury, now it seems like a necessity.  As we pulled into our home berth in Coal Harbour I made a mental note to chat with him about it.

The Unofficial Drink of Sailing? Works for Me

To our delight, when we brought our friends down to see Ge'Mara for the first time many of them came with a bottle to acknowledge the occasion.  David and I enjoy a nice single malt so most of them came with scotch.  However one colleague from work who used to serve in the Canadian Navy walked into my office one day and plunked down a bottle I'd never seen before.  It was Goslings dark rum.  He explained that rum is one of the oldest of modern spirits and the one most closely associated with the sea and sailing.  This I knew.  What he also said was that the Dark n Stormy is the unofficial mixed drink of sailing.  This I did not know.  But having been turned on to the charms of a properly made rum and coke by my friend Sean several years ago, I was eager to try it.  Later that week we made one in my office at the close of the business day and it was delicious.  Since that time I've been drinking them on the boat and at home and I have to say, I'm hooked.

It tastes best on the boat but I enjoy the odd one at home too

The Dark n Stormy is a simple drink made with 3 ingredients:  Ginger beer, Goslings rum and a bit of lime.  Devotees hotly debate which ginger beer is the best.  The favourite seems to be Fentimans, which I haven't been able to find yet but for my tastes any ginger beer with with a strong, spicy aftertaste works fine.

One thing that isn't up for debate is the type of rum to use.   It must be Goslings.  Apparently they have the rights to the name "Dark n Stormy."  I tend to agree that Goslings rum tastes good in the drink but I've taken to using Mount Gay Extra Old instead.  I like how it works in the drink but frankly it's a much better rum for any other application, including drinking neat.

On the matter of preparation:  Apparently the preferred way to assemble this drink is to first fill the glass with ice, then add the ginger beer and then softly pour 2.5 oz of rum on top.  If done properly the rum acts as a floater and forms a dark cloud over the comparatively light ginger beer.  I have no time for this nonsense.  I prefer to mix the drink perfectly prior to presentation so that the imbiber, be it me or a guest, doesn't have to mess around before taking the first sip.

A Milestone - and an Update

Today marks a milestone in the life of my little sailing blog.

Most mornings I wake up and after showering and ironing a shirt I sit down with a cup of coffee and check to see if anyone has commented on my blog.  Today, at long last, someone has.  Actually, this is technically the second bit of feedback I've received but the first was from my girlfriend after I asked her to post something just to make sure it worked.

On my post from February 20 of this year entitled "The Chandlery," somebody going by the pseudo "Pirates Cove" said "Great post!"  

And just when I was thinking of retiring my virtual pen.  They say nothing happens by accident and clearly that is the case here.  So to Mr/Ms Pirates Cove from somewhere in the UK I say, Thank You :)

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I haven't posted anything in a while but that isn't an indication that Ge'Mara hasn't been busy.  In fact quite the opposite.  We're having an unusually stellar summer here in Vancouver and the warm weather has kept us out on the water and at dockside regularly.  Most notably I went for a weekend trip with my friend Tom a few weeks ago and had a terrific time.  As odd as it seems, I had never taken the dinghy ashore anywhere while sailing.  Tom and I did that one morning on Gambier Island and had a great morning hike.  I realized after doing this how important exercise is to the boating experience.  Cruising is largely sedentary hobby and when you factor in rich food, drink and maybe the odd cigar it could be a less than healthy pursuit if some shore time isn't added to the mix.

I won't recount this trip in great detail but here are some of the lessons/highlights

• Waking up on day 1 to a glassy Long Bay achnorage
• Discovering Dean Fraser (thanks to Tom) and enjoying a smooth jazz take on Bob Marley on a sunny day
• Deciding to leave the BBQ on the rail at bedtime with a loose mount, only to find it upside down and open in the morning with all the grates at the bottom of the bay
• Paying for a slip at Gibson's marina so we could re-charge the batteries and go to Smitty's Oyster Bar only to find that:
• I left the power cord back at our home slip
• Smitty's has ample free moorage right outside the restaurant.

David and I are finishing out our fiscal year-end at work so this is a busy time but come August 1 we will be busy on the boat.  The month has a number of outings planned and I look forward to sharing them with all of you, especially Pirate Cove from the UK :)

Waking Up In Paradise

The view from our anchorage off Gambier Island this morning. Pretty alright.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Greater Vancouver,Canada

GoPro: DeepFlight Submersible - Searching for Whale Song

This is such an amazing video I thought I would post it.  Not sailing strictly speaking but a different and equally beautiful way of moving through the water.

Fun Without Wind

So after suffering through a week of November weather in June, the forecast for the Canada Day weekend and beyond is nothing but sun.  Unfortunately as the sun arrived, the wind left.  Saturday morning I was amped to go sailing but instead I was staring at the flat water out my window and feeling sorry for myself.

Brenda quickly suggested her go-to alternative, hiking.  For a while I agreed but it just seemed like too nice a day not to be out on the water.  Then I had a thought:  We live on False Creek right next to David Lam park where this weekend there is free live music as part of the Vancouver Jazz Festival.  Already I could see the boats taking up station near the park and the owners rowing ashore to enjoy the music.  Normally we would just walk down and participate or listen through the window but I envied the "sail-up" approach the other guys were taking.  So... in the end we walked to Coal Harbour where Ge'Mara is and motored out and around to False Creek to join the party.

Perhaps this seems like a bit of an odd thing to do but it gave me the chance to try getting in and out of the dinghy in calm friendly waters - something I should have done long ago.  After a 90 minute motor from  Coal Harbour we anchored just off David Lam park, ambled down into the dinghy and rowed ashore.  Piece of cake.  We didn't even have to tie up at the water taxi dock because the tide was so low.  We just pulled the dinghy up on the rocks and walked up to the music.

Ge'Mara "on the hook" in False Creek

Rowing in.  

As we were sitting enjoying a latin band I was starting to dream about a nice steak for dinner later on.  I suddenly remembered we were completely out of propane for the barbecue.  By the time we motored all the way back to my marina, walked home and went out to get propane it would be too late for a big dinner.  The answer?  Brenda went to get the propane and steaks while I single-handed the boat back to her slip.  I've been wanting to try this for some time.

I rowed out solo back to the boat and after some minor challenges maneuvering to the ladder I climbed up and prepared for departure.  I was a bit worried about getting the anchor up solo because there was a bit of an onshore breeze and I thought the boat might get blown into very shallow water while I was messing around with the anchor at the bow.  I put the boat in forward gear but idle rpm's and scrambled to the bow to haul in the rode.  At first the anchor was a bit stuck and I thought for a moment that I might run too far forward  but it came free and in a few more breaths I was back to the wheel and motoring out of False Creek.

After a very pleasant ride back on my own I had only one more challenge:  Docking.  The plan was for Brenda to meet me back at the slip to help me come in but I secretly wanted to beat her there so I could attempt it on my own.  Sure enough, she wasn't there quite in time.  Fortunately there was barely a breath of wind.  As I approached the marina I flipped the fenders back over the side and brought the long forward springline all the way aft.  This way when I brought the boat to the slip I could step off with both bow and stern lines in hand.  And that's pretty much how it went.

As I walked away from the marina I thought about how much fun the day had been and realized that wind is important - but not essential - to a fun day on the boat.

Midsummer Pause...

With the summer solstice just barely past, one could be excused for thinking that these long days would be the perfect backdrop for sailing, even on weekdays.  Unfortunately here in Vancouver the summer is generally slow to start and June weather can be maddeningly uncooperative.  Such is the case this week as I contemplate the thick grey cloud and falling mist out my window.  For as much as I longed for warm summer days while sailing midwinter, I would almost trade today for one of those crisp, sunny, 5 degree days on the water with good wind and no competition for dock space at Snug Cove.  But in reality this is just a short pause and soon enough Ge'Mara will be a busy lady.

The view outside my window is grey this week

My friend Tom will be visiting for the weekend this July 4 weekend and he's stoked for a sail.  He likes to keep active so the plan is to combine sailing with hiking.  The Gulf Islands provide many opportunities for this.  Bowen Island has the Mount Gardener hike and only slightly further away, Gambier has Mount Artiban.  With that done we might cross the strait and visit Silva Bay or Telegraph Harbour.

My business schedule dictates that August is the month for vacation.  With that in mind I have two sails planned.  Brenda and I are long overdue for a real excursion on the boat and that will happen early in August.  Later in the month David and I are planning our longest journey yet, a trip to Nelson Island where his friend has a cabin.  In between I suspect there will be shorter outings with friends and family.

Someone said that in each life a little rain must fall.  So today I say bring it on.  We live in the shadow of a rainforest after all.  Soon enough we'll be on the water and wandering beneath lush ferns and furs, enjoying the sunnier side of a rainy climate.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Further Afield - Part II

The Hunter Rendezvous we attended last weekend had the effect of making us feel young and Ge'Mara feel old.  That is to say, the event was filled with retired couples of at least 10 or 15 years my senior and beautiful boats that were at least 20 years newer than ours.  In hindsight it seems logical but sailboat cruising is a hobby dominated by retirees with money.  Fortunately they all seem to LOVE happy hour so all was not lost - at least after 5pm.

Lots of boats in the marina
The ones with red flags were brand new on display

The first presentation of the day was on the maintenance of marine heads (toilets).  Sadly, this is a compelling subject for all boaters.  Marine heads are notoriously unreliable and frustrating.  There is nothing quite so irritating to a boat owner when trying to impress friends and family as when a smelly, malfunctioning head is the most memorable thing about their outing.  We learned that you should pour cooking oil and/or vinnegar down the head once a month to discourage crystals that form when seawater mixes with urine.  We also heard from a guy who found out the reason why he couldn't pump seawater into the head was that a minnow was caught in the intake line, effectively plugging it.  An audience participant volunteered to dismantle a sample head in front of everyone just to show how easy it is.  David and I left the crowd and made a note to call the marine mechanic.

The rest of the day was spent listening to other seminars and walking around the grounds of the marina.  There was a couple setting up an entire hind of beef and pretty much a whole pig on spits.  These roasted and turned all day, making most of us hungry and the vegans more than a little nauseous.

Pig (or most of it) roasting on a spit

Towards the late afternoon the sun came out and we heard it was a nice walk around to the far side of the harbour to the other marina where there was a pub.  We needed a little exercise so we took the opportunity and had a very pleasant stroll through the pastoral hills of Thetis Island.  Life in the Gulf Islands is much different than in the city and nowhere is that more evident than here.  We came upon a shop with a small collection of groceries and crafts (handmade crafts are the engine that drives the Gulf Island economy).  No one was minding the shop and payment was on the honour system - simply pick your items and deposit cash in the lock box in the corner.  We picked out a few items and very deliberately counted out the correct amount of cash, erring in favour of the proprietor of course.  There is a feeling in these situations that there is a hidden camera somewhere, either literally or spiritually.  I am not the sort to ever short change anyone but in this moment I feel particularly virtuous and I secretly hope someone somewhere is watching and nodding with approval.

Things that make you go hmmm...

Telegraph Harbour Marina as seen from
the pub on the other side of the Harbour

At the urging of a local brochure we also stopped on the way back at the famous Pot of Gold Coffee Roasting Co., a Thetis Island success story.  Were were almost out of our bland Tim Horton's coffee on the boat and I was looking forward to drinking something a little more interesting the next morning.  We walked into the fragrant shop and admired the packages of coffee that lined the shelves, waiting for our turn to order.  After a while we spoke to a very gracefully aging woman who, upon hearing that we wanted coffee, looked around and said she was afraid she might not have any after all of the mail orders were filled.  I looked at her for a moment, not quite sure what to say and eventually offered to come back the next day.  She said "Would you?  Apparently the wheels of commerce turn a little more slowly here.

Coffee, coffee everywhere but apparently none for us :(

That night we enjoyed a huge plate of pork and baron of beef with some red wine to wash it down.  We took up with an older couple that owned a brand new beautiful 47ft Hunter that seemed palatial compared to Ge'Mara.  We bribed ourselves on board with Single Malt scotch.  Oddly, for all the fortunes these seniors spent on their boats, they couldn't fathom parting with the cash for a decent bottle of whiskey.  As a result David and I were minor celebreties with our bottles of 18 year old malt and generous dispositions.

The next morning we said our goodbyes to the people we'd met and slipped our moorings.  We had one more day and night left on our excursion. That morning we sat over (Tim Horton's ) coffee and discussed where we should go.  A brisk wind had come up overnight and there was a strong wind warning in the strait.  We debated the merits of making a fast and exciting crossing and spending the night on the Vancouver side of the strait and we even went the point of reefing the main at the dock.  In the end however we elected to head north to Silva Bay on Gabriola Island.

One of the nicest little marinas I've ever been to.

We left Telegraph Harbour, this time coming back north up the West side of Thetis.  The wind was coming from the northwest and we had hoped to sail at least part way to our destination.  Unfortunately the wind was stronger than we had hoped and was blowing directly on our nose.  We had to make Gabriola Passage by slack tide so we had no choice but to motor the entire way.  On this, all I have to say is that long distance motoring in a sailboat is painful.  At times we were fighting wind and current and were down to 2.5kts of boat speed.  I was so frustrated that at one point I convinced David to let me bring out a reefed headsail in hopes of helping our little Yanmar diesel along.  This was a mistake.  The fabric on the trailing edge of our headsail (the leech) has come unsewn and the line that runs down the leech (the leech line) to keep it taught had pulled out of it's pocket and was trailing back from the sail.  The genoa flapped wildly as we were too close the wind and shortly I was furling it back in.  Maddeningly the trailing leech line had tangled our lanyard at a height beyond reach.  So now we had the genoa flapping violently  in the headwind and no way to bring it in because of the fouled leech line.  Attempts to rectify the problem were frustrated by the jib sheets whipping back and forth across the deck.  After getting the "I Told You So" look from David I went forward and took a beating for 20 minutes or so and finally got the genoa furled.

By the time we transited Gabriola Pass and arrived at Silva Bay I was tired and cranky.  We had reserved a slip hours earlier by phone and now I was on the radio calling for assistance.  The kid at the marina had warned us to be careful as the winds inside the harbour were still pretty high.  Docking a sailboat in windy conditions can be an adventure.  Fortunately for the bored fisherman who were sitting on their boats at dock, badly in need of entertainment, I was able to provide it.  The kid had assigned us the worst possible slip given the direction of the wind.  Even with two people on the dock to receive us the boat swung wildly away from the dock with the wind and I was madly working the engine trying to keep from ramming in to something.  In the end I brought her close enough for David to toss the lines over and the guys were able to reign her in.  However I managed to punctuate my sad docking effort by  ramming Ge'Mara's bow into the dock.  All around, other boaters were watching with expressions that ranged from amusement to pity.  I paid for the moorage and on my return David sympathetically handed me a cold beer.

The rest of that day was uneventful and a little frustrating.  The dock position we were assigned had the wind blowing directly into our cabin.  Meanwhile I had forgotten to apply sunscreen - yet again - and was feeling the effects of too much sun.  I was crabby in a way that cold beer couldn't fix and eventually David retreated to his V birth for a nap and I went for a walk on the Island.  Later that evening I was still sulking but the wind died down so David put some burgers on the barbecue and soon we were eating and chatting with our boat neighbours.

The next morning we ate a hasty breakfast of cold cereal and prepared to leave.  We were both ready to get home to our ladies and comfortable beds.  The wind had died somewhat from yesterday but was still brisk.  We left the shelter of Silva Bay, pointed Ge'Mara on a broad reach back to Vancouver and headed home.  We started with just our still-reefed main and made reasonable speed but after a while we shook the reef out and improved our performance.  In the end we pulled the genoa out and freed the leech line from it's tangle.  Now under full sail we raced a following boat back to Coal Harbour.  Before long we were trudging up the hill from the marina looking forward to being home.

Further Afield - Part I

Not long after David and I purchased Ge'Mara we decided that we needed to plan a 3 - 4 day trip in the spring that we could work towards.  It feels like we have a handle on the boat now but back then it was all so new to us - crossing the strait, navigating tidal passes threading through shoals and islands in unfamiliar waters...  We knew we'd need a specific trip to work towards, lest we get lazy and keep sailing in the same familiar local waters.

The excuse we needed came in the form of the 2013 Hunter Rendezvous.  We've learned that boat owners have their own little "conferences" on the water that are generally known as a rendezvous.  These are specific to a type of boat, in our case Hunter.  It's an excuse for boat owners to get with their own kind and compare notes on similar craft.  It's also an excuse for the manufacturer (who is generally the sponsor) to show off their latest models and sleuth out potential upgrade candidates.  In the end it's an equal measure of eating,  drinking, congenial conversation and sharing of information.

Our event was being held in Telegraph Harbour on Thetis Island, a more picturesque place you'll never find.  We departed Vancouver on Friday May 31 under clearing skies - the first after a week of cloud and significant rain.  It was a beautiful crossing, if not a bit mellow.  There was a gentle 5kt breeze blowing that kept just enough wind in Ge'Mara's sails to justify not starting the engine.  As exciting as it is to be healed over and flying across the water, there is something to be said for placid, drama free sailing in light winds.

We plotted a course from the Pt. Grey bellbuoy to Porlier Pass at the North end of Galiano Island.  Having made the crossing, this would be our next challenge.  The tides in BC waters are quite pronounced and in the Gulf Islands there are only so many navigable passes between the Georgia Strait and inside the islands.  These passes concentrate the tidal waters and during full flood or ebb can be tricky if not downright hazardous.  When traveling in a sailboat it's important to check the tide and current tables to ensure you are transiting the pass during slack tide, or at least before the ebb/flood becomes unmanageable.  In the end, Porlier Pass was a non-event - thankfully.  We went through near the slack so there was almost no noticeable current.  All we had to do was keep an eye on our chart so as to avoid the rocks and shallow areas which are for the most part all on the North side of the pass.  Another irrational fear bites the dust.

Porlier Pass at slack tide - no big deal

Once through Porlier it we motored quietly to the south, threading our way through small islands en route to the south end of Thetis Island.  It was now dinner time and the calm waters and picture perfect views in every direction lulled us into long spells of contemplative silence.

The reverie was broken by a sudden lurch and loud bang.  As we were rounding the marker at the south end of Thetis at what we thought was a respectable distance our keel hit a rock.  David and I looked at each other with wide eyes.  The depth sounder was now reading only 5ft of water but we didn't need that data to realize our folly.  All around us the bottom was clearly visible and rocks reached up at us menacingly.  Ge'Mara draws 6ft. under her keel.  For a long moment we cringed and braced as I steered the boat further away from the marker, waiting for the inevitable crunch of our next contact.  Thank God, we made it back to deeper water without further incident.  Once we were safely away from the shallow area David went below to inspect the bilges for signs of water.  Nothing was evident and once we calmed down we realized that we probably just grazed the top of the rock.  In the case of a direct hit it's not the iron keel that will give, it's the hull where the keel is bolted.

We learned some valuable lessons from this.  First, being on the correct side of a buoy does not guarantee your safety.  Without the benefit of local knowledge, extra vigilance and a wide margin of error is prudent.  Second, we did not have the depth alarm on our sounder turned on - something we immediately rectified.  Jittery from this experience, we motored hyper-cautiously into the very shallow Telegraph Harbour and called the marina on the radio.

The entrance to Telegraph Harbour - very shallow

We were among the last to arrive at the rendezvous and the marina was packed.  At first it looked like we were going to need to a "Mediterranean tie", which involves dropping your anchor, backing towards the dock and tying up at the stern.  This is a method of accommodating a large number of boats in a small space.  Neither of us had done this before.  Fortunately they found a more traditional space for us elsewhere and before long we were tied up and lounging in the cockpit with a much needed beer, chatting with the other boat owners.  More about those guys in part II

Up the Mast

So we're heading off this weekend for a sail and overnight anchor on Gambier Island.  This reminded me of our burnt out anchor light.  Located at the top of the mast, it is rather inaccessible.  We've been pounding our heads against the wall trying to find someone to go up the mast and fix it for us but this is the busy season for marine mechanics and riggers so we've had no luck.  Fortunately a friend and avid sailor offered to help.

Once on the boat, my friend and I briefly debated who should go up the mast.  At 230lbs I didn't seem like the obvious choice but it was an excellent learning opportunity and he seemed ok with doing the hard work at the winch so the choice was made.

We needed to do a little fiddling with the main halyard.  The winch I normally use for the main that sits under the dodger is a little small for the job and isn't self-tailing (it doesn't hold the line in place and keep it tight on the winch).  As a result we needed to bring the halyard back to the larger self tailing winch located further aft on the starboard side of the boat.  At first the line kept fouling on the winch and we realized that the angle it was coming from was wrong.  We re-routed the line through the block normally reserved for the jib sheet and we were in business.

It was slow work going up and I soon realized (after some mild protest by my man at the winch) that I would need to help in the process by pulling myself up the mast as much as possible in order to take some weight off of the halyard.  This made the going much easier.  Fortunately we had good gear to work with, thanks to my friend who loaned me his bosun's chair.  The chair was almost like a harness and it immediately felt secure with multiple buckles and a strong hoisting point.  As an extra measure of security we used the spinnaker halyard as a second line, with David taking up the slack as I went aloft.

Reaching the top I was surprised at how comfortable I felt - both physically in the chair and mentally, given my slight fear of heights.  Once established at the top I removed the safety line and sent it back down to the deck so the guys could attach a canvas bucket with the tools I would need.  Shortly after I was unscrewing the anchor light from the mast and taking it apart to get at the bulbs.  The consequences of dropping a screw were not lost on me and I was relieved to get the screws out and into the bag so I could remove the bulbs.  I promptly sent them down to the boys to look at and determine if the matched on of the many spares we carry on the boat.  Murphy being Murphy, none of them did.  David called up that he was going to check the chandlery for replacements and I was left to my own devices up at the top for what seemed like ages.  I used the opportunity to take pictures - not just of the view but also of the mast top, to act as a reference for the next time I need to know how things are rigged.

In due time David strolled back, apparently too exhausted from his conversation at the chandlery to move any faster.  Murphy was still with us - the store did not carry our replacement bulb.

The old anchor light

After coming back down to the deck the guys informed me that it's not such a big deal right now as an anchor light is not actually required unless you are in a place "where boats don't usually anchor."  That was news to me and I was briefly irked by having gone to all the trouble but on reflection it was a valuable experience.  The good news is that I had purchased a brand new LED anchor light and at first blush it looks like it will fit in the same screw holes as the other one.  So rather than searching for replacement bulbs I'll just replace the entire fixture with the much more power efficient LED light.