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.