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In my, albeit limited, experience, boating/cruising in the PNW has seemed so far to come in three distinct varieties. The first, the kind the beginner most often sees and the vast majority of our experience so far, is the short cruise. Hop on your boat (or charter), tour the Gulf Islands or visit Desolation Sound and then be tied up at home a week or two later. The second variety is the long trip. Stock up on provisions and head out for a few months or even the whole season and you’ll be back when you are back. And our newly discovered third boating experience is life at the dock. It’s cold, you have to work, or you just plain don’t want to be away, so you are tied up and enjoying all (most) of the conveniences of home. We have been lucky enough to experience all three of these varietals this year — one and a half weeks in the gulf islands in the spring, 2 months Vancouver to Victoria via the Broughtons in late summer and 2 months and counting tied up at the inner harbour in Victoria. So I thought I would do a bit of compare and contrast.

Planning

Short You’ve only got a week and you want to make the most of it. So you spend time online and with the cruising guides and either come up with a specific plan and loose itinerary or schedule the bejeezus out of each and every day before you ever get to the boat. If you are chartering, you even factor in departure and arrival times to maximize your dollar. You know where you need to be and how far from home you are, and despite inevitable changes, you are pretty much committed to sticking to a plan.

Long When taking off for the season, the planning is just as intense, if not more so, but the execution is a lot more fluid. Maybe you just have a direction and a list of wants. You need more charts and more cruising guides and anchorage books, because who the hell knows where you will end up this time. You might meet someone and decide on a bit of buddy boating and then there goes any preplan out the window. So plan hard and remember the old adage, “the most dangerous thing when cruising is a schedule.”

At the Dock Well, you need to do you research, do some cost analysis and look into the location of amenities like groceries, propane and the all-important liquor store, but after that it is just the little things that you may or may not care about. I will say a little effort put into researching slip location and prevailing winds isn’t a bad idea and taking a look at available coffee shops and libraries can make stormy days a lot more enjoyable. The biggest question for us was: could we get high speed internet at the dock?

Power

Short The boat has batteries right? And a way to charge them too? Then don’t worry about it. Most charterers don’t even get a lecture on battery conservation or power usage beyond “it isn’t advisable to use the microwave at anchor.” On a short trip you are invariably at the dock more often and motoring between locations every second day. And when you are on the dock you will pay up for power with very little thought. It’s a short trip, and power’s cheap. We rarely paid much attention to power beyond minimizing light usage.

Long This is the trip where a little learning is a dangerous thing. The things you hear: NEVER run you batteries below 50%! Your puny alternator can’t top up the batteries fast enough! Anchor lights are a huge draw! All lights are a huge draw! What do you mean you didn’t replace them all with LEDs? Turn down your fridge! Sure, the iPod speakers are crappy but they use less power than the boat stereo, Sheesh! No you can’t recharge your laptop today! Did you check the specific gravity of you batteries yet? Sure it’s a diesel heater, but the fans consume power…are you sure you are cold?

The advice you get in respect to your power usage is plentiful and often terrifying. And if all you have is a voltmeter, trying to figure out the state of your batteries to avoid the ever-looming 50% level is impossible, yet all-consuming. Don’t let the batteries dip below 12.2v. But don’t trust the meter reading if the batteries haven’t rested for x hours with no load. You just kind of get caught up in trying to balance the flaky math and visual input and are never sure of just where your batteries are until you’ve been at dock and plugged for a full 24 hrs. Personally, our battery monitor was the best couple of hundred bucks we ever spent. Unfortunately we did it near the end of the trip.

On a long trip you need to conserve cash and an anchorage is your best friend. Power is expensive in some of the out-of-the-way marinas (up to $20 for 30amp service), so even if you do tie up to reprovision or top up the water, chances are you might forgo the expense. Day to day you don’t go more than a couple of hours without thinking about power consumption, generating more power and which light is on and for how long. It can be stressful, especially if some of the crew aren’t on the same page. You also might find yourself buying very expensive LED bulbs or pricing out generators in faraway places to try and relieve the strain of constant worry.

At the Dock How long is your power cord? And how much amperage do the two heaters use, because we hate tripping the damn breaker. That was pretty much it. We still maintain some discipline when it comes to how many lights are on at once, but the fridge and freezer are cranked up to high and the stereo is on whenever we are aboard. And after a couple of weeks of this you even start using the microwave. But then again, we still turn the breakers for the lights off every morning…

Water

Short You start the trip with a full tank. You will likely top it off once during the trip. You fill it up when you dock the boat at the end of the trip. That’s pretty much that. Chances are you will pay for showers at the marinas and swim a time or two. And it’s likely you will pack along some bottled water to drink, but we’ve never actually managed to drink it all on a short trip. And with all the motoring and staying on docks, hot water is rarely an issue. Just be sure to shower while the water is still hot before you go to bed rather than in the morning when it’s cold.

Sunny afternoons at the dock are a perfect time to scrub the boat and cool down and the dodger is always clear of salt spray and bird droppings. Sure the occasional marina might try and restrict your water usage, but what the hell, there’s another one just 10 nm down the channel.

Long Water usage is another one of those constant worry points. Not as complicated or arcane as power, but still fraught with its own idiosyncrasies. To start with, a long trip often includes visits to places and islands that other have no supply available for visitors or, if it does, it’s potability is usually suspect. So right off the bat, you have to start thinking about water vs. drinking water. And once you’ve “contaminated” your water tanks, you pretty much have to empty them again before trying to go back to using them for a drinking supply — which seems like a horrible waste since you’ve been doing everything you can to conserve water.

Because you probably will have to conserve, especially in the drought-prone islands of the PNW, you find yourself filling up old 2 litre pop bottles and milk jugs “just in case.” And don’t even think about washing the boat. Just don’t. Dishes once a day, baby wipes not washcloths, and maybe I will just skip the shower since the $5 the marina wants just isn’t worth it.

One of the first things we bought was a solar shower. Then we bought another. Our head has a shower stall with an opening hatch right above so the solar showers were great for nights two and three… at least until it got to cloudy. The baby wipes turned out to be the preferred alternative to the not-quite-freezing, barely-warmed output of a solar shower on a cold day in the PNW. And due to the power costs mentioned above, we often didn’t have hot water even at dock. I actually took to washing up right after we got underway. The motor would have run a little bit even if we mostly sailed, and then it would reheat whatever I used to be saved for others or dishes.

Marina showers cost money and again, the further off the beaten path you go, the more they cost. Still a hot shower and shaving with hot water are treats to be enjoyed despite the cost.

At the Dock Once again, a lot of our conservation habits stayed with us at dock but are generally much more relaxed. We still don’t fill the sink to wash dishes and showers are still a two stage process to conserve water. But we fill the tank about once a week from the dock and don’t think much about it. I still have back-up bottles of water stashed away in case it freezes and the dock water is cut off unexpectedly, but it’s more of an emergency back-up than anything we are likely to need.

Hot water is plentiful and we’ve taken to actually showering on board more often than we did when cruising. Showers at the marina are $1/3 minutes so they aren’t much more luxuriating than being on board. And walking up the dock before you are entirely awake is ok I guess, but why not just stay in your PJs and lounge around the boat with a coffee. That’s not to say I don’t load up with loonies once in a while and indulge, but that just makes it a special treat—who needs a spa anyway?

Provisions

Short Short trips are often a provisioning nightmare, especially if you don’t own the boat or your trips are too separated in time to keep much aboard. For us, being without a vehicle, the location of a grocery store and access to liquor was always part of deciding where we would charter from. Nanaimo Yacht Charters was pretty distant from any convenient grocery stores, but they had a loaner car free to use. Granville Island had a great market within a stone’s throw, but it was a longer slog to make it to a store for buying staples. And without a car, groceries (and booze) can get pretty heavy, which often necessitates either a cab or several trips.

And then there’s the meal planning, the available sizes of products and the waste at the end of the trip. It’s hard to justify a 5 lb sack of flour or a 500ml bottle of syrup but what’s cruising without pancakes? And a short trip means you should try and account for every night aboard, even though you don’t know how often you will eat out. You plan for the best and keep your fingers crossed. And keep in mind a short trip doesn’t always involve a lot of urban stops, so resupply sometimes won’t be as easy as you think if you’ve forgotten something.

We liked to make sure we brought things like spices and dried goods like pasta or rice from home, even peanut butter (in a small container) was a good thing to pack if we had room since it was unlikely we would use enough to warrant buying any. I’ve taken to premixing my dry ingredients for pancakes so all I need is eggs and milk. But resign yourself to tossing food at the end of the trip. It’s especially sad when you didn’t get around to eating those salmon steaks or pork chops, but even tossing half a pound of sugar or a three-quarters full box of granola seems like such a waste.

Long I think provisioning things for a long trip is actually the easiest of the three. If you make sure that the beginning of the trip has several stops near grocery stores, you buy provisions in smaller increments and, since time is on your side, making a run to the market every day—even if you have to get there by dinghy—is more of an adventure than a problem.

And since you are stocking up for the long haul, what you buy is determined more by storage than anything else; so go for the jumbo bags of flour and rice and don’t worry about it. We did have to balance meat and bread against freezer space and power consumption. The freezer never really kept things completely frozen when we had the power dialled down. If possible we would buy meat when we were at the dock and crank the freezer up to freeze things, and then they would stay frozen longer after we dialled it down again.

I think the biggest issue for me was bread. I like bread and I like it fresh (i.e. not Wonderbread or it’s ilk). At home I always keep bakery bread frozen and defrost as I use it but aboard a boat this methodology doesn’t work all that well. We therefore usually buy the preservative-laden “wonder” breads that I grew up with or heavier breads like raisin bread and eat a lot of toast after things start going stale. But that doesn’t help with BBQ staples like hotdogs or hamburgers and I think we ended up eating a lot less of those sorts of things. I did eventually learn to make a fairly easy no-knead bread, which helped me get my fix of fresh bread.

Still, the long trip was easiest to handle provision wise as you tailored your expectations and forwent fresh produce when it wasn’t available and pigged out when it was. We had whales after all, so who needs fresh spinach? And I lost 10 pounds so that was a bonus.

At the Dock The problem of living on the dock is the temptation of all the local restaurants and the expectation that you can eat like you always have ashore. But as spacious as our boat is, it still doesn’t have the pantry or refrigerator of our condo. And the budget really doesn’t stretch to eating out every night…at least after the first few weeks have gone by.

One of the downsides of our Victoria winter location is the three major grocery stores are all approximately 1.5 km away. And since we have no car it makes buying a lot of supplies a challenge. So we bought a small two-wheeled cart and try and to shop several times a week; but bags of flour, cases of beer and jugs of juice all weigh enough to start to make it a bit of a grind. We are constantly balancing what our eyes and taste-buds want, with what we can manage to cart back to the boat on any given trip. Overall it’s not much different from short or long trips but after a while the frustration kicks in and it seems a bigger deal than it actually is. But perception is everything…

Laundry

Laundry is the same chore on a boat as it is everywhere else. You just do it with a different attitude. In all three scenarios, the common factor is that you likely only have a quarter of your normal wardrobe and tend to conserve and reuse much more than you ever would at home. The big difference is in the perspectives.

Short Laundry? Just wash a pair of shorts in the sink, don’t wear socks and don’t worry about it.

Long Have I worn these socks two — or three — times? Hmmmm, maybe one more go…

At the Dock Laundry? Again? Sigh. Let’s go buy some more socks.

Garbage & Recycling

Short Simple. Find a place to stow it temporarily and then dump it all each time you get off. Most marinas offer at least a free bag of garbage along with moorage, so why sweat it.

Long Like water and power before them, garbage is the bane of the long trip. We try not to throw anything besides chicken bones overboard but occasionally the composting goes as well. Marinas in out-of-the-way places can be reluctant to take any garbage they can’t burn so sorting becomes an issue. And stowing garbage for weeks starts to take up valuable space in cockpit lockers.

Even recyclables with deposits can be hard to get rid of once you are out in the Broughtons. Cans over bottle, boxed wine over glass—it’s far easier to cope with if you make better choices before you leave the store.

At the Dock The marina has garbage cans, recycling bins and even a compost bin so managing it is pretty easy. The only predicament is do we wander around in search of a bottle recycler or just donate them to one of the many, many, local collectors that wander the wharfs. So far, we donate, but that might change as the purse strings tighten.

Gear in General

Short What you bring along on a short trip is usually based on what you can carry and what you will likely need giving the season or cruising grounds. Some warm clothes, hats, maybe one pair of hiking shoes, an inflatable pfd if that is your thing, a knife maybe, and a camera. I have also been known to lug along a small inverter just in case the charter boat doesn’t have one.

Long The long trip is a three-way balance between transport, storage, and stowage. How much can you carry to and from the boat? Is there room on the boat for it? And can you find a place for it that will survive 30 knot winds and a 30° heel?

We brought quite a few things along that we had plenty of room for — for example books — but soon discovered that they flung themselves around the boat cabin because we couldn’t find a place to secure them. And while I wanted to bring my entire tool kit, there was no way to actually get it to the boat, even though I had ample locker space to store it. And where do you keep all those expensive charts you bought which is both away but accessible—especially if you are using half a dozen different charts a day?

On a long trip, electronics was surprisingly high on the list of must-haves. Two cell phones, a camera, an iPad for secondary navigation, two ebook readers, a laptop, and external hard drives with movies and music seemed like pretty basic equipment. We also brought several headlamps, safety gear, comfortable pfd’s, several extra pairs of shoes, extra warm layers, the aforementioned books, cruising and nature guides, our recipe books, spare sheets, spare pillows, extra blankets, some nice clothes, and a host of other things that seemed necessary for an extended trip.

At the Dock We have tried to get out sailing even after reaching our winter home, so the addition of clutter has been minimized — but it creeps in. More books, another laptop (because we don’t share so well), more clothes and jackets, some new cookware, heaters and the day-to-day detritus like piles of paper and casual purchases are among the few things that have appeared around the boat since we docked in October. We might add a dehumidifier as it gets wetter and more blankets if it gets colder.

We’ve lost two pillows to mildew so far—they were stored/pushed up against the cold hull for a few weeks without moving—so we have tried not to just shove things in the v-berth like a giant garage—which is the daily temptation—and with such a small space , the necessity of putting things away every day makes any accumulations of stuff pretty noticeable and easy to contain. But I recognize it’s early days yet…

Propane

Short Did you fill the tank(s) before you left? Don’t worry about it.

Long Are both your tanks still certified? No. Oops, well that is going to be a problem. The only thing harder these days than finding a place to refill your propane tank is finding a place to recertify your tank. Luckily local family members with a mini van were able to drive us from Nanaimo to Chemainus and Viper Fuels: the only place I could find on anywhere even close to our route who could do the work.

Refilling tanks these days is a huge pain. All the local gas stations have gone with the exchange system so they don’t have to get training for their staff. And that means the places that can do refills are usually not anywhere easily accessible. Luckily, in more remote areas like Port McNeill there are still some facilities near the docks where you can top up your tank. But in populous areas like the Gulf Islands or the Sunshine Coast? Forget about it.

We have two 10 lb tanks, one of which was used for the BBQ. But after the first tank ran dry and we were literally weeks before I could refill it, I started using the disposable 1 lb bottles on the BBQ and kept the second tank as a spare for the stove. It was that or stop baking, and I like baking.

At the Dock So far we haven’t had to fill up, but according to Google there is a place about two kilometres away that will do it. I guess we will load up the empty tank in our cart and wheel it there. One of out dock mates suggested if I could round up enough tanks that needed filling we could get a truck to come down, but I don’t think that kind of coordination is likely. And I stuck with the 1lb tanks on the BBQ so I am confident we won’t run out of propane at an inopportune moment.

Maintenance

Short Check the oil. Every day. Keep half an eye out for worn or wearing bits and just enjoy.

Long Be prepared. If you are new at this like we are, be prepared to buy things. Stainless slit rings, bolts and screws, a rebuild kit for the head, glue and sealant, new light bulbs, some line, even a few tools. We tried to prepare ourselves as best we could, but there are always projects and time to do them. We definitely found it easier (and cheaper) to tackle multiple small things as we went then to pay for the big things once we were back.

And if you are away long enough in our wind-less summers be prepared to change the oil. Which means you need more tools, buckets and a place to safely dispose of the used oil.

At the Dock Maintenance is more of a intellectual problem than a physical on once you are on the dock. You have to budget time and money and prioritize. Since a lot of the thing you need to work on won’t affect you if you stay at the dock there is a tendency to put them off. Ever seen the skit on Sesame Street where Ernie doesn’t want to fix the window https://youtu.be/JBDlQJMkOlw ?

And if you add up the costs of all the projects you need/want to do, I guarantee you will find it exceeds your budget. So I find myself second guessing where I want my limited funds to go. I think this is the point where the reality of boat ownership really starts to hit home. The definition of a boat is often stated as “a hole in the water you pour money into.” I am starting to believe it.

Downtime

Short On a short trip there generally isn’t much downtime. Or depending on your perspective, it’s all downtime. You flit from destination to destination and relaxing is as simple as the cold beer after the sail with the occasional brilliant sunset thrown in. Staying more than 2 days in one place is a waste of good cruising time so let’s cast off and do it again.

Long I think, in this regard, that long trips are basically a bunch of short trips strung together with downtime scheduled in between. We found most of our down days were spaced about one or two weeks apart where we would end up spending several days tied up in one spot, doing chores, cleaning up and generally enjoying ourselves.

Oh we did deliberately stay at a lovely anchorage for two or three days to soak in the atmosphere but oddly enough it was the multiple days at the dock that that were the most pressure-free. Some of it had to do with monitoring batteries and water and some of it had to do with the imperative to make the most of the opportunity. I think we will have to take even longer trips (4 months+) to truly be able to get relaxed just hanging on the hook.

At the Dock Unfortunately, being on the dock is way too similar to being at home. And being workaholics, we tend to want to move right back to 10–12 hr days, 7 days a week. But the benefit of the boat is that with shorter daylight hours it’s easier to make a point of turning off the work and enjoying a game or some tv on the laptop after dinner. So in reality we work closer to standard business hours and try and reserve the weekends for non-work activities. So far, it’s working out pretty good. But I would still rather be cruising.

Special Considerations: Heat and Condensation,

Short Short trips are generally in the summer, at least for us, and keeping cool is more of a consideration that keeping warm. But most boats in the PNW have heaters to take the edge off in the morning if you really need it.

Long We ran the heater about once a week for an hour or two on especially cold mornings. You tend to try and endure the cool temperatures to avoid firing up the noisy heaters when you are anchored in those lovely still coves. But some mornings are just too damp and cold. And since you are on the move, you get plenty of ventilation and air movement and moisture in the cabin is pretty much a non-issue.

At the Dock We are currently using two electric heaters and plan to start supplementing that with the built in diesel heater when the temps start to dip below freezing. The electric heaters are fine except both of them running at full blast (1500 watts) will soon overload our 30 amp service and pop a breaker at 3 o’clock in the morning leaving you with a cold, cold boat.

And you need to keep dorades and hatches open to allow fresh air in to keep the humidity down. As I mentioned we’ve already sacrificed two pillows to mildew. Actually, since I started composing this post a couple of days ago, the total count is now up to three. Spare pillows just seem especially susceptible. So far it hasn’t been to much of a struggle and we have yet to give up the onboard showers, but special care and consideration needs to be taken. We also have started lifting the mattresses occasionally and letting air flow into little used spaces like lockers.

In Conclusion

I am sure that there are tons of things I have missed and plenty of experiences I have yet to encounter, but it’s been interesting to try and enumerate the differences we encountered in the types of boating we did in 2015. I think, as in most things in life, boating is most enjoyable when expectations match the most probable outcomes; it’s just a matter of figuring out what those are. We probably have one more big cruise in store next spring before we are back to real life and having to make do with shorter trips, but after re-reading this post, I guess that doesn’t seem to bad, does it…

And there’s always the chance we might get to sail!

 

I finally got around to amalgamating all my tracks from this summer’s cruise using Google’s My Maps feature. I had to email all the tracks to myself from the Navionics app  on my phone then download each KML file. Next I uploaded each file to a separate layer to Google My Maps and had to keep amalgamating the layers as My Maps will only allow you a max of 10 layers.  Occasionally I had to go in and edit the KML track if it had failed to record a bit or I didn’t start the track right upon departure. There has got to be a better way…

In the interactive map below you can select individual tracks and get some info about it, but beware, sometimes it isn’t all that accurate.

The Trip

As I have written before, if you haven’t made the trip to the Broughtons, then you should, even if you don’t think you have the time. Here is the 2 week itinerary we basically followed on last year’s trip. This year we departed on July 26 from Granville Island, Vancouver and returned to Victoria’s Inner Harbour a little over two months later on September 29 and it could have (would have) been longer if we had the time.

Here is the link to the larger Google version.

Here are a few stats

66 days in total
32 travel days
170+ hours of boating
1389 km (750 nm)

Longest day: 76.5 km (41.3 nm)
Days we sailed: 9
Days with some sailing: 4
Days we tried to sail but had to give up: 5
Highest winds: 26 knots, gusting to 29

Nights at a marina: 32
Nights at anchor: 34

Orca spottings: 6 times
Humpback spottings: 6 times
Dolphin/porpoise spottings: 2 times
Bear spottings: 1 time

I didn’t shoot a lot of video on our trip to the Broughtons this summer although I did start out with the intent to become the next YouTube star and live off the profits. That idea lasted about 5 minutes—it’s a lot of work. But what I did shoot I decided to edit down to three short videos.

Whales, orcas, dolphins, otters, I shot them all. Other than that, mostly just a lot of beautiful scenery and some not-so-exciting sailing shots.

Enjoy!

Part 1: from the survey on Granville Island to our arrival at Echo Bay in the Broughtons.

 

Part 2: from Echo Bay, our trip with Nikki van Schyndel, to arriving at Port McNeill just ahead of the big September windstorm

 

Part 3: from Port McNeill, back south to Portland Island just off Sidney B.C.

I promise to write a long entry on life at dock in Victoria, but for now I offer up a weekend trip in mid-October.

Getting Ready

We tied up at wharf street on September 28th and since then haven’t moved the boat at all except for one aborted attempt to try out a different slip. It was time to get out again. So the first thing we did was make a list of what needed to be done to make the the Never for Ever sailable again. We’d added cable internet, a fitting for the pumpout boat and tied down or otherwise secured a lot of lines and running rigging, all of which needed to be reset. But down below it seems we had still kept everything fairly reasonably stowed, so it wasn’t all that much effort to get us going again.

I did experience a small issue with the tachometer when I fired the diesel up after three weeks of inactivity. The revs were registering much higher than the engine was actually doing for a few minutes but then it settled down again. Yet another (probably expensive) boat thing to look into.

We cast off around 9 am on Friday to try and make the 10:30 slack at Baynes Channel. We made good time but the tide was with us, so I wasn’t worried overly about the passage when we got there early.  The plan was to head up to Portland Island and await word if R Shack Island was going to be able to meet us. If so, then we would head to Genoa Bay the next day for a nice dinner. If not then we would find some other options. The winds were forecast to be light, climbing to 10-15 knots for the next couple of days and then up to 20-30 on Tuesday, so we figured we would head for home on Monday and avoid the chance of getting stuck out too long.

As is so often the case, the wind was right on the nose as we headed east down Juan de Fuca and then they swung with us to remain pretty much on the nose all the way up Haro Strait. We contemplated raising the sails anyway after transiting Baynes, but on cue the winds died down to 5 knots and we decided hiking Portland was a better goal than a bunch of hours beating in such light winds. It seems to be the curse of the Salish Sea that the wind only blows in the wrong direction, but someone must be getting the wind… right?

Portland Island

A few hours later we pulled into Princess Margaret Cove on the south side of Portland Island and anchored a bit away from the only other boat there. By the end of the evening there were  a total of 4 other sailboats at anchor— two of them under 24′. One of those, a MacGregor, had four people aboard, so it was no surprise that my first glimpse of them when I stuck my head up the hatch was of someone urinating off the bow pulpit. I guess there was more privacy there…

After a few minutes of tidying up we jumped in Laughing Baby and Leslie rowed us to shore. At this time of year the visitor’s dinghy dock has already been removed, so we opted to land on the rocks and tie up to one of the stern tie rings. Then we could scramble up to shore and Baby should be secure. But after a bit of consideration and remembering it was a rising tide, we moved the dinghy over to what was left of the wharf and tied off to one of the rails.

We had last been on Portland just before heading to Victoria, but had stern tied on the north side in Royal Cove. We hadn’t been in Princess Margaret since our very first cruise-and-learn many years ago. And we hadn’t completed our circumnavigation of the island on foot so there were plenty of paths to explore. We checked out the old apple orchard (the ground was devoid of any apples at all—nature has some good clean-up crews). Then we headed east along the shore, stopping along the way to admire the plentiful and varied mushroom crop (I really wish I knew more about mushrooms), stare out at the beautiful vistas and to kick around in the huge piles of leaves. Fall is such a beautiful time and it’s a pity we don’t get out into nature more when we are in the city. Yet another great thing about our liveaboard sojourn.

Eventually we circled back to the boat and I camped out under the canvas to enjoy the warmth and setting sun. Dinner was French toast and that was strictly Leslie’s bailiwick so I was off the hook with no mandate except to to drink a beer and relax. October is an odd time of year. An afternoon of sunlight on the canvas and the cockpit was like heated room, but the moment the sun dipped below the tree line, the temperature plummeted and, by the time the light faded, I was driven below and contemplating firing up the diesel heater.

 

We hadn’t used the heater much. It is a Webasto hydronic heater, which means a small diesel-fed boiler heats up water (actually it’s coolant like in your radiator) and circulates it through 3 electric fan units. You have the option of a high or low speed on each of the fans (one in the salon, one in the v-berth and one in the aft cabin) and with all three going full blast the boat heats up pretty quickly. There are a few downsides though. One is that when warming up, the heater sounds like a jet engine and since it is in an aft locker, it makes sleeping in the morning almost impossible if you want to heat the boat before you get up.

Another is that both the heater and the fans consume battery power. But since we’d actually added a battery monitor finally, we were able to track it. Turns out with all three fans going full bore (which we never actually used in practice) the consumption after the initial warm-up period was around 6.5 AmpHrs (it ran as high as 12 during the warm up). Which is right around what the fridge uses. And since the heater (at least in mid October) probably ran for less than four hours in a 24 hr period, all in all it wasn’t too bad.

So we ran the heat for a while to warm up the boat and then ate dinner. Afterwards we watched some West Wing episodes on the laptop and then ran the heat again—this time in the aft cabin— while we did dishes, just before hitting the sack. This turned out to be our basic pattern: an hour (maybe two) in the morning to warm the boat up, an hour or so when we returned from the day’s activities if the temperature warranted it, and another hour to warm up the cabin before bed. It was a good system.

The next morning we found out R Shack was not going to make it and so, after a bit of humming and hawing, we settled on Butchart Gardens as our next destination. They have free mooring buoys there and we had never been at this time of year. Again the winds were almost nonexistent so we motored of towards Saanich Inlet. Along the way we spotted a few sea lions out fishing and Leslie caught the tail end (pun intended) of a humpback diving just off our bow. By the time I arrived back on deck he was gone but we did eventually see him again with another, off in the distance, but only by using the binoculars.

Butchart Gardens

The entrance to Butchart Cove is just below Brentwood Bay and you have to weave your way in through all the moored boats. Then you arrive in this tiny cove just off the entrance to Tod Inlet with five mooring buoys spaced close together. You have to grab one and then stern tie to the provided rings ashore to avoid bumping your neighbour. So we dutifully grabbed a ball and then I rowed ashore to loop our stern line through the provided ring. The shore is quite close so there was no problem running our 200′ of line back to the boat so I could avoid having to go out tomorrow and untie.

After we had tied up and everything was stowed, we rowed over to the dock. The Gardens close at 4 pm and they boot you out around 5 so we only had a few hours. Their dock hosts float planes, tour boats and whale watching boats during the high season but we had it pretty much to ourselves. A quick walk up the ramp and you give them a call on the intercom (it is manned full time in the high season) to be admitted through the gate. A pleasant young man took some info on our boat and dispatched someone to take our money (around $25 ea) and let us in.

One of the joys of visiting by boat is that you come in away from all the crowds and parking lots and the first thing you see is the spectacular — in any season — Japanese gardens. It really make you feel special to be able to avoid the hustle and bustle of the tourist-oriented main entrance. I highly recommend it to any one.

If you have never been to Butchart in the fall, then go. There are plants and colours you will never see at any other time of year and the effect is spectacular. Everywhere you turn there is something to see, from brilliant purple berries to salmon-coloured Japanese maples that, at any other time of year, aren’t to be seen. There are even roses still in bloom. Imagine, breathing the heady scent of an English rose in October. Really unthinkable in Edmonton.

The sunken garden

The apparent shadow beneath this tree was not formed by light but by a perfect circle of fallen purple leaves.

We wandered the gardens for almost three hours before they came to kick us out. And again we got to leave through the quiet back entrance, with one more pleasant walk through the Japanese Gardens. It leaves a much softer and pleasant memory when you the last thing you experince is a quiet wooded path down to the dock rather than a crowded gift shop and parking lot full of people with places they need to get to.

I BBQ’d some burgers for dinner and we settled in for the night. After a bit of discussion we decided to head to Roche Harbor in the San Juans tomorrow and find an anchorage there. From there it is only a bit over three hours back to Victoria so we could sleep in and relax.

The next morning we cast off and headed back up Saanich Inlet. Along the way we encountered two of the RCN’s Orca class patrol/training boats. They were number 55 (the lead boat in the class and thus called the Orca) and number 66 ( the Moose, and the newest of the class). Their decks were crowed with sea cadets and they were obviously out doing training exercises. In fact we saw the Orca start to maneuver oddly and soon enough they had launched their RIB and zoomed off to pick up a “man” overboard.

San Juan Island

One task necessitated by our visit to the U.S.-owned San Juan’s was to check out our galley for prohibited foodstuffs. I tossed some green onions (they were a bit off anyway) and decided to “hide” the bananas in a batch of banana bread and muffins. It was one of our first attempts at baking underway and turned out pretty damn good. Nothing like warm muffins for lunch. Other than that, according to the list of import regs I downloaded, everything else was good.

We got the sails up for an hour or so on a broad reach crossing Haro Strait starting at about 15 knots, but the winds kept dying. But we persisted and gybed our way to the entrance to Roche Harbor, finally dropping the sails in less than 5 knots of wind. Then we checked in at the Customs dock in Roche (which has moved from the outer dock to the port side of the docks, down by the fuel dock) and I cleared us in while Leslie waited aboard. Afterwards we walked the boat over to the fuel dock and pretended our Canadian dollars were at par. Fuel sure is cheap here when you do that. All topped up, we headed back out to the outer dock and tied up again so we could visit for a while. I picked up one bottle of wine in the store to drink that night as there are no exemptions on visits less than 48 hours, and we walked up to the sculpture garden to explore for a while. We didn’t have a lot of time as it was getting late but we saw a bit more of the resort than we had on our last visit before we had to head back to the boat. We will definitely need to come back and stay for a while.

It is about a 20 minute cruise down Mosquito Passage to Garrison Bay. It was empty except for two other boats that appear to be permanently moored there—at least they had also been there on our last visit. We dropped anchor and fired up the heater. It’s pretty shallow here (less than 10 feet below the keel) but the tide was only dropping 7 feet that night so we were good. And we’d got a bit chilled wandering around Roche.

I think it was our windiest night since we picked up Never for Ever and I certainly heard a lot of new noises throughout the night. The most annoying one, which I got up to  fix (twice), was the flag halyard — where we were flying out small American courtesy flag — banging on the mast inner stays and setting up a chain reaction that sounded like pots clanging together when you were down below. Could not hear a thing when you were on deck, but down below it was really annoying. I eventually solved it by lowering the flag for the evening.

The next morning we slept in and lounged around reading and enjoying the scenery. It really is a pleasant and peaceful place with the historic buildings of English camp peeking out through the mist. Then around 1 pm, we raised anchor and headed back out into Haro strait to cross the shipping lanes on our way back to Victoria. I spent the trip practicing using the AIS to track ships. Those tankers move at up to 20 knots and can really appear from out of nowhere, so if visibility is poor you want to be able keep track of their whereabouts. Otherwise the trip home was quiet although we had the tide against us most of the way. We hit Bayne Channel a bit before slack and motored against the 2 knot current along with a few other boats.

Soon enough we were in Victoria Harbour and tying up at the Customs dock by Fisherman’s Wharf to check back in. It is not manned at this time of year so you have to report in by phone. A nice young man soon cleared us after laughing at my reaction to the question of whether I was carrying more than $10,000 in cash—don’t we all wish, and we cast off for the short jaunt home. Rounding the outer dock on Wharf Street we saw there was a new boat beside our assigned moorage, but he had left plenty of room for me to easily get to our spot.

Then came trying to get all set up again for life on dock. And readjusting once again to a stationary lifestyle. But hopefully we will get out again soon.

 

As we begin to move south after our extended visit to the Broughtons, it seems appropriate to do a round-up of the wildlife we’ve seen. It truly is extraordinary.

• raccoons
• black bears
• bald eagles (mature and juvenile)
• ravens, crows, and jays
• Canada geese
• cormorants
• loons
• osprey
• kingfishers
• herons
• auklets
• various other birds, particularly gulls and ducks
• orcas
• humpback whales
• Dall’s porpoises
• harbour porpoises
• Pacific white-sided dolphins
• sea lions
• seals

Still waiting…

• otter (B and Z saw four! but I haven’t see one yet)
• wolf
• cougar
• grizzly bear

… and all the other sea life that complements the basic setting of trees and rocks, such as clams, oysters, cockles, mussels, barnacles, starfish, jelly fish, and fish.

If this round-up looks like a tick list, I suppose it is. Or maybe a wish list. This trip has underlined how much I value the opportunity to view animals in their natural habitat. Some of our encounters on this trip have been mind-altering.

If you have the chance to visit the Broughtons, go: it’s a fantastic trip. Prepare to be changed!

We are now in week four of our trip to the Broughtons and will have to start heading homeward sometime in the next week or two. It’s been grand, and the people, the countryside and the whole ethos of the place are simply stellar.

But that’s not to say it’s any more a Garden of Eden than the next destination. There are always some snakes in the grass.

Major Concerns

Most of these issues can be dealt with by a quick trip across Queen Charlotte Strait to Port McNeill, but a sailboat like ours isn’t fast and the Strait is one of those bodies of water that isn’t always cooperative. So we left that trip until after our third week here.

Garbage
The biggest issue for us, in that this year the opportunities to get rid of garbage and recycling are extremely limited. Most marinas will take burnables, but if you didn’t pre-sort that’s a bit of an icky challenge; and, frankly, most burnables are recyclables these days and we’d like to try to pack most of that out. And even the burning has been iffy with the dry summer this area has been having this year.

A few places wouldn’t even take pop or beer cans. It’s just too trouble much for them to haul them, and the Boy Scouts are no longer picking up.

Although it’s frowned on, we did get rid of a few organics like chicken bones overboard, but that still leaves enough that after four weeks I am running out of space in the aft locker.

Storage is always at a premium onboard.

Water
Water is also a bit of an issue. We started the trip with a full tank of potable water, but eventually it ran low. Last year in June the spring water at Sullivan Bay was great, but apparently the dry spell meant it ran dry in early June and they have been on filtered lake water ever since. Port Harvey was limiting water altogether. Shawl Bay’s water was clear but still posted with a boil water notice

Most of the places we’ve visited have a filtration system and a mix of people who will and will not drink it. Most places also have to use ground water that is colored by cedar bark tannins and is an odd and, to some, unpleasant tinge. So once you’ve filled your tank, you are going to want empty it before adding anything potable.

There are boil water warnings at all the marinas. Talk on the dock is that they have to post the warnings even if the water is good because provincial rules demand frequent samples and testing (which must be done in Vancouver) and it’s virtually impossible for these small, isolated marinas to comply. At least that’s the talk.

Fresh Food
Expensive and rare. And you need to time it right so you hit a marina right after they’ve made a run for the best choices. Oh, and only a few marinas like Pierre’s Port Harvey and Sullivan Bay have a store. The rest stock pop or candy bars if you are lucky; otherwise you are on your own.

Fresh food means it’s time to get cooking again.

Sullivan Bay and Port Harvey boast restaurants. Pierre’s has scheduled potluck pig roasts and prime rib nights. Other marinas will also occasionally throw potlucks like the deep-fried turkey night we encountered at Shawl Bay. So there is always food to be found.

Bread and Wine
A corollary to the above point about fresh food is the availability of some luxury items. Bread is at a premium, with availability very sketchy. Port Harvey bakes pretty much every day so if you pre-order you can get some there, and Shawl Bay had fresh bread, buns and pies for sale in the morning. But liquor was available only at Sullivan Bay, and the $32 price tag for the two six-packs of beer made me choke a bit.

We found English muffins and raisin bread to be our favorite baked goods since we always toast them and they last longer than even the famous Wonder Bread. As for booze, well, we just had to start rationing.

Fuel
Fuel is available at Pierre’s and Sullivan Bay, which are inconveniently close to each other and Lagoon Cove which is a bit south. Given the lack of wind, we have done too much motoring for our druthers, but that’s summer in the PNW. Luckily both Pierre’s and Sullivan Bay occupy bays that are sort of crossroads in the NE part of the Broughtons so we passed them a few times during the trip.

Lagoon Cove

Gasoline for the outboards was actually a bigger concern. A lot of exploring and a dearth of places to store jerry cans has meant we had to keep close track of our fuel levels.

Costs

The other thing to be aware of is the high cost of things that come cheaper in the south. Overall moorage is cheaper, ranging from $0.95 to $1.25 per foot. But the extras are all much higher. Some 30-amp power can be as high as $20 a night and showers can be upwards of $7.25 each. Washing and drying were frequently over $5 or $6 each, making a load of laundry cost over $11.

Because all the water is scarce and the power generated, these costs are not unreasonable, but we have taken to showering aboard and doing without shore power if we have just been on motor or when we know we will be motoring the next day. These decisions have helped when we’ve been at marinas several days in a row.

Perks

But there are lots of perks. The people are terrific, always bending over backwards to help. Freshly made cinnamon buns & danishes can be found at most of the marinas, and Shawl Bay even offers free pancakes every morning. Happy Hours are a tradition on the all the docks with everyone bringing appies, and potlucks, as I mentioned, pop up here and there.

And the anchorages are sublime. There literally dozens if not hundreds of small private coves that offer stunning vistas and peaceful sunsets. The anchorages are the number one reason to visit, and when you get tired being by yourself the hospitality of the marinas is a welcome relief.

Just remember, none of this should deter anyone from considering the Broughtons a premier destination; it’s quickly becoming one of my favourites.

It’s been busy, busy, busy and while I have a bunch of stuff started for The Chronicles, nothing is actually done yet.

I have managed to do a few trip reports for macblaze.ca if you are interested in our trip to the Broughtons and the first month or so living aboard. It’s much more of a casual diary, so don’t expect too much.

Go North Young Man… Even If You’re Old (August 1–5)

The Next Few Days (August 6–17)

What Day Is This? Oh, Turnbull Cove! (August 17–18)

Winding Down? (August 19–23)

Enjoy!

We are now heading north toward the archipelago and surrounding cruising area know as the Broughtons. Generally this area is considered to encompass everything northwest of Campbell River and Desolation Sound and southeast of the northern tip of Vancouver Island, even though the Broughtons proper is just the collection of small islands northeast across the Queen Charlotte Strait from Port McNeill.

The area is made up of islands both small and big, and long inlets and channels winding in and around the mainland. It’s sparsely populated with few places that house a full-time population. But it’s also home to some stunning scenery, fantastic fishing, and the most fascinating collection of marinas and resorts you will find anywhere.

Lagoon Cove, West Cracroft

Now when I say resort, you might picture huge spa-like edifices with all the amenities, or quaint “rustic” hotels tucked away in a pleasant cove with all the services. But while there may be one or two resorts vaguely similar to the latter, dedicated to kayakers and fisherman, I’ve seen no sign of the former. No, a resort in the Broughtons is generally one small group of buildings on shore and a collection of docks and floating buildings. In some, all the amenities are on the water and there isn’t anything on land to speak of. But they are all tucked away in beautiful picturesque coves.

And the communities are great. They host happy hours and potlucks, have pig roasts and shrimp feasts, or are simply known for their hospitality and free pancakes. The boaters tend to be veterans who come again and again, and the collegial atmosphere is a lot of fun.

It sounds, and is, idyllic. But many, many of the boaters who habituate the southern Gulf Islands will never venture north.

A Few Challenges

It’s a long way, and intimidating on paper. There are a lot of obstacles to making the trip, and I think many people believe they are insurmountable, or at least too difficult to justify the reward. But that’s just not true…at least in my opinion.

Now to be fair, we first ventured up to the Broughtons in a flotilla organized by Cooper Boating out of Vancouver. And their two-week itinerary started out of Powell River (Westview), so it cut some of the distance out of the process. For ourselves, we left from Vancouver and took an extra week to get used to our charter boat before we met up with the flotilla. Nonetheless, I am a convert and think all the rushing was absolutely worthwhile.

A String of Rapids

The second, and arguably larger, deterrent to heading north is that it is impossible to get into the Broughtons or anywhere north of Desolation Sound without hitting a major set of rapids or a narrow channel with a major current.

I have read countless posts and sidebars and guidebooks explaining how best to negotiate these watery roadblocks, but frankly I think they have the opposite effect. All the ‘helpful’ advice just a serves to make the process sound daunting. I have made passage through the area five times so far and am starting to wonder if there’s not a conspiracy to keep the Broughtons to ourselves.

What You Need to Understand Is…

The incoming tides in the PNW sweep around Vancouver Island flowing south from the Queen Charlotte Strait in the north and flowing north up from the Strait of Juan de Fuca. They meet basically at Desolation Sound. But because south of the Sound is fairly open you only see strong currents in the few passes in and around the Gulf Islands.

North of the Sound is a maze of channels and passages and all of them have narrow points here and there that force the water to speed up.

Now I admit to not having an tremendous amount of experience in general when it comes to boating, but it’s a curve and I am working my way up it. My opinion is that if you are boating in the PNW, and especially the Southern Gulf Islands, then you need to learn to deal with currents. And if you’ve learned to negotiate Dodd Narrows or Porlier Pass, then you have all the experience and knowledge you need to keep going north.

For those of you who don’t already understand, let me break it down. The reason that the currents and rapids occur is that the tides force billions of litres of water back and forth four times a day. Roughly every six hours the tides shift from ebb (going out) to flood (coming in). In a nice open body of water like the Strait of Georgia, the effect of this shifting can range anywhere from negligible to creating three or four knots of current. When all this water is forced into narrow choke points in narrow passages, the current can exceed eight to ten knots. Given that the top speed of my boat is seven knots, you can see that I wouldn’t have any hope of going though a pass against that kind of current. And the narrower the passage, the more likely the water is to boil up into actual rapids. Skookumchuk Rapids near Sechelt are the kind of rapids that are like candy to whitewater kayakers. All caused by the tide.

Still, if you transit any pass at slack tide, the point at which the tide is neither ebbing or flooding, the current virtually disappears, even at Skookumchuk. Slack can last from a few minutes to half an hour, and you generally have some time on either side when the current is starting to build, at which point current is not much of an issue — especially if you are transiting the passage in the same direction as the new tide; then it just gives an extra push.

All of this is something you need to learn to boat safely in the Gulf Islands and that knowledge, ans the nature of the rapids, doesn’t change just because you are going north.

Make Your Choice

Each of the three major routes you can take has its own challenges. I have yet to transit through Seymour Narrows near Campbell River, but it has its own idiosyncrasies that the above-mentioned writers have produced tons of info about. It is the only route that has just one portion of fast water to worry about — Seymour Narrows itself — but you also have to contend with all the big ships and the longest passage through Johnstone Strait, which can get a bit bumpy at times.

Going north, the middle route, up along the east side of Quadra Island takes you through Surge Narrows rapids and then the Upper Rapids about 6nm later. But if your boat is too slow or the timing just doesn’t work, then the Octopus Islands are right in between and are a spectacular anchorage every boater should visit at least once. So it’s win-win.

After you transit Upper Rapids you follow Okisollo Channel until it dumps you out into Johnstone Strait.

The third way, and seemingly most popular, is up through the Yucultas. This route takes you north of Desolation Sound and past Cortes Island. You proceed up Calm Channel until you hit the Yucultas, which are the first of three sets of rapids: the Yucultas, Gillard, and Dent Rapids. Between the Yucultas and Gillard is Big Bay and the Stuart Island Community Marina, which is well worth a stop if you don’t want to run all three. A nice little store and a clean shower, but no power on the docks.

To transit all three it is best to go with the current, but I’ve seen sailboats go against it, too. The decision comes down to preference and confidence. If you are ok running Dodd Narrows an hour early or late, then these three will be fine at slack. Anyway there is plenty of advice online about timing. What I want to add is that, based on what we have been through, I have wondered what the big deal is. I mean to come back one day in a powerful speedboat and see what the rapids are truly like when they are running. But with Never for Ever I am content with the ripples and eddies I have experienced.

Approaching Dent Rapids at slack.

A bit further up you will run into the Green Point Rapids, Blind Channel Rapids, and Whirlpool Rapids. While they all have significant currents they really aren’t a threat either, at least not in small tides. This trip we ran Whirlpool with a predicted current of 3.5 knots and hit a top speed of 10 knots as the current pushed us along. Another sailboat that was with us later told us he’s never had trouble there.

Big Bad Johnstone Strait

The last big impediment to people frequenting the Broughtons is Johnstone Strait. It is impossible to get into the Broughtons without spending at least some time in the Strait. And it can get bad — or so I’ve heard. We have had extraordinary luck and have either motored on glassy waters or sailed in 10 to 15 knots. So while there are bad days, just as there are in the Strait of Georgia, watching the weather and good timing can solve that issue easily. And depending on the route you take, you can shorten the amount of time you spend there.

Johnstone Strait on a good day.

So What I am Saying Is…

I am not saying that making your way to the Broughtons is a float on a pond. There are difficulties and some things to be wary of. What I am saying is that if you regularly boat in the Salish Sea, nothing in the trek north should surprise you or overwhelm you. It’s probably best if you have more than two weeks to do it, but even then, why not? (I joined a trip around Vancouver Island this spring that we did in two weeks. It was a lot of miles but thoroughly worthwhile.) The Broughtons’ unique combination of stunning scenery and friendly communities is worth the bit of trouble that getting there entails.

As Nike is wont to say, just do it.

Sailing a new boat is always stressful. Sailing a new boat in 20+ knots is… well… stressful. And we’ve managed to do it twice so far. Up to now, our sojourn into boat ownership was seemingly fated to resemble that of a skinny powerboat with a big stick sticking out of its middle — there had been that little wind — and we hadn’t really given a lot of practical thought to sailing our new toy.

Now for those ’not’ in the know, a knot “is a unit of speed equal to one nautical mile (1.852 km) per hour, approximately 1.151 mph.” You judge your preparations for, and the safeness of, boating on any given day on the speed of the winds.

Marine Wind and Weather Warnings

Weather advisories are based on the following five categories. Only the first two are considered safe for boating.

Light Winds: Light winds are defined as winds with a wind speed less than 12 knots.

Moderate Winds: Moderate winds are defined as winds with a wind speed of 12 to 19 knots.

Strong Winds & Small Craft Warnings: Strong winds are defined as winds with sustained wind speeds in the range of 20 to 33 knots.

Gale Warning: Gale winds are defined as winds with a continuous speed of 34 to 47 knots.

Storm Warning: Storm winds are defined as winds with a continuous speed of 48 to 53 knots.

Our Sailboat

Although the Never for Ever seems quite small in comparison to the ships we regularly share the seaways with, she comes in at 38’9″, or a little under 12 metres, and is not considered a ‘small’ craft — that would be more of an open aluminum fishing boat or a kayak. Our Hunter, while not properly equipped now, is perfectly capable of crossing oceans. This means that the small craft warnings don’t particularly apply to us. Having said that, 30 knots would be quite a ride, but 20–25 is merely exhilarating. Or at least that’s the theory.

There is an inclinometer mounted on my binnacle. It lets me know the amount of heel (the angle the boat is tilted over at) in degrees. It’s a fairly useless measurement. I think some thing like Mild, Worrisome, Scary, Terrifying, and Insane might be a better scale.

It is also important to note that heeling is generally only a problem when sailing close hauled. This is the point of sail going as directly into the wind as possible. And since it’s axiomatic that in the Pacific Northwest you are always going into the wind, it seems to be a fairly common point of sail.

20 Knots: Need a Reef

So a sloop, which is the sail configuration most of us have, consisting of a foresail and a main sail, can easily become overpowered in strong winds due to the large surface area of the sails. So most (all?) of them have a way of reducing the square footage of sail; this process is known as reefing.( As a side note, the reef knot we all know and love is used to tie in the reefs, hence its name.) Reefing a traditional main sail is accomplished by lowering it about three feet and tying down the excess sail at the bottom. If you wish to put in a second reef, you lower the main sail another three feet. The overall effect is to make the size of the triangular sail much smaller, thus reducing the power it generates and the amount of heel it causes. A boat can only go so fast, according to the math, so extra power just makes for a more uncomfortable sail without any speed gains. The two reef points are generally predetermined, with handy grommets to facilitate the process of tying the sail down. Most modern boats have fancy reefing systems using lines that lead to the cockpit so you don’t even have to go out on deck.

This has been the only system we have ever used. In other boats we have, on average, put in the first reef around 15 knots of wind and the second around 19 or 20. Having said that, we have only sailed in 20-plus–knot winds once before.

Alas, the Never for Ever has a roller-furling main, something I have limited experience with and have never reefed. A roller-furling main has a hollow mast and the main sail rolls in and out like a projector screen. In theory (and generally in practice) this is much easier to handle. But I would suggest the first time you try to figure out how to reef, you don’t start with 20 knots of wind. It adds a bit too much spice.

One of the issues is that there are no set reef points. You roll the sail out to a point that is comfortable and engage a ratchet to prevent it from coming out any further. The ratchet, however, is on the mast and comfortable is hard to judge if you are heading straight into the wind with the sails flapping and waves bouncing and you have never done it before.

Eventually I figured out we would have to let the sail out all the way and then bring it back in. I also arbitrarily chose to bring it in about four feet from the end of the mast. At some point I am going to have to break out the Pythagorean math and figure out equivalents.

So we sailed in a diminishing 20-knot wind that eventually settled at 15–16 knots and then dropped to 10. At that point we hove to and let the rest of the sail out and had a nice calm sail. At first the inclinometer should have read Scary–Terrifying, but I wasn’t pointing too high, so that took a lot of pressure off the sails and reduced the heel. We eventually all calmed down and enjoyed the sail. I never actually looked at the inclinometer. It was a bit of a baptism by fire, but we persevered and eventually had fun.

If There Are Two Boats Then It’s a Race

Never for Ever under motor

Two days later in Smuggler Cove, we finally hooked up with R Shack Island, who were to be our traveling companions for the next month or so. When we cast off to head up Malaspina Strait it was dead calm and we motored for a few hours. But as we rounded a small point on Texada the winds came up, and with 11 or 12 knots showing, we decided to sail. Since the winds were racing straight down the Strait, we would be beating to windward: zig-zagging back and forth, trying to point upwind as much as possible to make actual distance.

Never for Ever just starting to heel

About  three minutes after we got the sails out, the winds built even more and started to exceed 20 knots; the boat leaned over like a competitive professional yogi doing downward dog. This, needless to say, put us quickly at Insane on the virtual inclinometer, and we immediately hove to. We talked over the reefing procedure first this time and then brought the boat around directly into the wind. Or tried to. The wind kept catching us and swinging us around again every time we tried to take pressure off the sails. We spun in a small circle three or four times before I finally got the sail reefed — about five feet in from the end of the mast this time. It was a bit of entertainment for any other sailors who were watching.

The race is on

By this time the Shack had blown past us and had a hefty head start. So I pointed high. And the wind pushed us over. At one point we had over 30° of heel, which is Terrifying to Insane. The rail, which is the edge of the topside, was slightly under water and we were screaming along. I started to catch the Shack  slowly and was pointed a few degrees higher. We might just catch them. Of course this we at the expense of the cleanliness of my shorts and the brewing mutiny of both Leslie and Artemis. The poor cat was very discomforted by the sideways boat. So I eased off a bit, slowed my heart rate to something only excessive and continued in a long, slow chase of our mates.

The first tack was a disaster in sailing terms, although I’m not ashamed of it. We lost all way and had to really crank the jib back in, but we got the boat turned and back on course without an incident and just a loss of distance to the Shack. After that, it was matter of finding a good point and getting used to it.

We were still overpowered on the port tack for most of the afternoon. I could probably have taken a couple of feet of sail back in to increase the reef. But the starboard tack was more comfortable and I really didn’t want to stop again.

There was also a Hunter 35 ahead of us and we slowly reeled him in, in a what was now a three-way race. Leslie and I got more and more comfortable and I started to point higher and higher trying to catch the Shack by shortening the distance of my tacks. I never did pass him, but we were almost alongside at one point.

We sailed at a 20–25° heel most of the afternoon (Scary–Terrified), occasionally exceeding 30°. Leslie learned to perch on the side of the cockpit combing like it was a seat and ride comfortably with her bum 12 feet (basically the width of our boat) in the air.

This is us taken from R Shack Island

It was mind-lockingly terrifying and exhilarating and eventually we made peace with it. Not the easiest way to start our sailing experience in the new boat, but we are unlikely to ever be that scared again. Until we hit 30 knots, I guess.

Stowage Leasons Learneds

Stowing gear for sailing involves putting things where they can’t fall and making sure things won’t slide over the fiddles (the lips on the edge of counters etc.). On our first sail we learned through a series of crashes and bangs that stowing for 20 knots is not the same as stowing for 12 knots. On our second big day we learned by way of even bigger crashes and bangs that stowing for 20 knots on a steady port take is not the same stowing for a long day of beating in 20-plus knots.

I think by the third trip down after a big crash everything — and I really mean everything — was on the floor, in the sink or, in the case of the poor cat, wedged between something like the pillows and our headboard.

The cockpit wasn’t much better. Cushions, charts, cameras, water bottles and binoculars were strewn across the floor of the cockpit. But eventually everything was wedged or shoved in a corner and the crashing ceased. That probably went a long way to reducing our heart rates right there.

You may or may not know that I am mantaining two blogs.  I have decided to try and keep neverforever.ca as a more boat-specific journal and leave the regular trip reports to macblaze.ca

Hopefully that will keep the noise down and not annoy anyone less interested in what I had for dinner or the number of compliments our cat got. 

My first report 20 Knots and All’s Well has been posted so if you interested in  a report in our first big sail have a visit over there. I hope to post weekly ( or at least regular) links here. 

As for us, we’ve met up with R Shack Island and are starting our trek north to the Broughtons. The current plan is roughly Powell River (Westview), the Yucaltas and then try and stay inside until Johnstone Strait calms down. 

  

It’s been a hectic 7 days for us n00bs. We have moved from our 1900-sq-ft condo in Edmonton onto a 38′ sailboat, transported our poor cat 1200 miles to a new, danger-fraught lifestyle, and had to learn/develop a new routine for just about everything. On the other head we’ve experienced fireworks, seals, lovely rainstorms, and quiet walks along the beach.

A Start

All along our plan was to move aboard and head as soon as feasible to Nanaimo. There is good anchorage there (which means free) along with options for a marina ($1.40/foot or $53.25/night), mooring buoys ($12/night) and even the docks at Newcastle Island ($2/metre or $23 a night). Nanaimo also hosts The Harbour Chandler, a Thriftys, London Drugs, and a BC Liquor store all within a short walking distance of the dinghy dock. Oh and it also has the famous Dinghy Dock pub on Protection Island, accessible only by boat. All this made it the perfect place for us to settle in and provision before we sailed off for parts north.

But still back at Granville Island, we headed up to W 4th Ave and a visit to the No Frills for basic supplies. We had decided to leave the major provisioning until Nanaimo and since we had raided the condo’s kitchen for everything we could think of (except the balsamic vinegar — there were two bottle in the cupboard and I forgot both –sigh!) we didn’t need too much except a couple of days’ meals and some basics.

The walk to the No Frills goes right past the West Marine so we stopped in and browsed our wish list. There were a couple of Mustang PFDs for about $40 so we bought two. This brought our total up to four plus two inflatables. The boat came with six of those cheap, tie around your neck types, but we decided to leave those in the truck. Other than that, everything else looked like it could wait.

Speaking of the truck, I had arranged to keep it at a friend’s house in Surrey until October. Our berth in Victoria would be available October 1, so we were planning on parking the boat for a week or two, and returning home to YEG to finish off closing up the house. So after we had loaded anything extraneous we could think of (extra pillows, used cutlery, pfds, containers etc.), I left Leslie to catsit and drove out to South Surrey. And despite the dubious help of my iPhone’s gps I didn’t manage to get lost. I did arrive a bit early so I checked out the local Canadian Tire for some Velcro wall hangers and a few more small containers. Then Dave gave me a ride back to Granville and we went back to moving in and stowing stuff.

Stowage & Supplies

Putting things away is harder than it seems. First off you need cooperation and consensus. And if you manage to get past that hurdle you also need to remember what you’ve got and where you put it, and then train everyone to put it away in the same space. Living small seems to take a lot of cooperation. We will get it eventually. I hope. Maybe.

I do think an running grocery inventory is going to be necessary. You can’t always see what you’ve got and asking Leslie every five minutes “Did we buy X?” seem to be annoying her; and I can’t afford that until at least week two (or when we are far enough away she can’t abandon ship). And she used to really like lists so…

Another thing we are learning is the importance of usage rates and container sizes. For example, we bought two frozen limades and then ended up going back twice more to get extras. With the heat, we seem to be consuming a lot more of certain things and under- (or over-) estimating what we will use. We have enough pasta to eat until the next century but have run out of granola bars already.

And I figure it will all change as the geography and climates change. Less of a learning curve than a learning cliff. BUt that’s why we are hanging out in Nanaimo to settle in.

More Bills

The amount of money we have spent in this first week is phenomenal. It just goes to show how bad I am at budgeting. I think I set week one’s budget as double a regular week. Well, we are into about 5 times that now. Some of it was unexpected stuff from Specialty Yacht Sales and the work they did on the boat. And of course the dreaded moorage charges. But a lot of it was just underestimating the number of things we would want to add to our cruising inventory.

We’ve picked up things like extra containers, microfiber towels, a solar shower, a few bits of clothing, a popcorn popper, et cetera, et cetera. Very little of it has been extravagant — I’m saving those things for later when Leslie isn’t following me around — and some have already proven their worth (like the solar shower: awesome on Day 3 when the hot water is a distant memory).

But a warning to any readers who are newly provisioning: Week One’s a killer.

Granville Island & Fireworks

We spent the first couple of days at the docks on Granville Island.

Friday A.M. Steve from Jensen Signs showed up to apply the new name. Despite the rain, he got the new graphics applied to the bows and the stern. Later that evening Leslie, Artemis and I gathered on the bow with a bottle of champagne to thank the sea gods for Rainbow Hunter’s good service and to ask them to look over the newly christened Never for Ever. Then we poured them their share and drank the rest. Artemis turned her nose up at her share but that was all right. More for me.

Saturday night there were fireworks in English Bay and we watched them from the cockpit. The bridge obscured a lot of the show, but it was enjoyable and comfortable. We also had a lot of rain over those couple of days and used the enclosure a lot. It doesn’t keep the space really dry — there is leakage where the canvas covers the arch — but it is pretty comfortable and we can set out buckets or something to keep the water contained. Still, if I had $10,000 lying around, I might want to re-design the enclosure.

We also ran into John from Spiritus II. We had met him at the Rendezvous. He was just offloading his visiting kids and grandchild and waiting for his wife. He invited us over for a glass of wine when she (Karen) arrived, and we spent a nice evening chatting. He is another reluctant socialist married to a committed one. We commiserated.

They are also Broughton-bound, so we might run into them again.

Nanaimo Harbour and Newcastle Island

Eventually we cast off and headed across the Strait. As per usual the wind was non-existent and we motored all of the way across. Artemis was a bit put out and spent the entire six hours hiding out in the bow. She had started off in the aft cabin but I moved her forward because it was quieter, and she settled in. She will eventually figure out the best spots, but for now we are shuffling her like new furniture that just can’t seem to find its “right” spot.

We arrived in Nanaimo eventually and tried out our brand-new Rocna (anchor) in the bay. It set first time and we shut down the engine, took a deep breath, and tried not to second-guess everything we had just done. Luckily it was pretty quiet and we had lots of room. There was one powerboat we kept swinging around near but never got closer than about 40 feet. The currents in the bay off Newcastle Island are pretty active and everyone spun a lot. It’s hard to tell where everyone will be at any given moment. The next morning after some of the boats left, we broke out the kellet (Thanks Dave and Margaret!) and adjusted our scope until we were happy and confident. Then we just hung on anchor for three days, enjoying nightly walks in Newcastle Island park and soaking in the ambiance.

Propane Tanks, Parents, and Special Hexes

Nanaimo was fun. The public dock is right downtown and we could dinghy in and shop for groceries, booze, sundries, and boat supplies — all within easy walking distance. Since we are now people of leisure, we decided on lots of small trips rather than staggering around like pack mules on a cross-country trek. First off we had discovered our anchor light wasn’t working, so I picked up a small hoist-able LED and some wire to work on my chart plotter/radio connection at Harbour Chandler, and then we grabbed a day or two’s worth of groceries on the way back. A few more trips over the next couple of days added to our inventory.

Leslie’s parents agreed to come down and visit on Wednesday, so we put our heads together and formulated a plan. Mine clunked hollowly, but hers still seemed a bit full of something. Still it didn’t hurt that much. Rubbing our noggins, we decided that they wouldn’t enjoy the dinghy ride out to the anchorage much, so the plan was to move the boat to the park docks on Newcastle Island. They are free if you are a day visitor and only $2/meter if you stay overnight. I found a nice stern-in berth so everyone could just step through the transom and the climbing and scrambling would be kept to a minimum.

Then we grabbed our two 10-lb propane tanks and headed over in Laughing Baby (the dinghy) to the dock where we had agreed to meet them. Stephen (L’s brother) had come along so the merry mini-van load of us all set off to find a propane place. Apparently the Co-op is the place to go but it is up the highway a bit. We filled one tank, but it turns out our secondary tank (for the BBQ) was out of date and the girl wouldn’t refill it. And the closet place to re-certify it was Chemainus. So we gave up on that and picked up a few disposables for back-up.

We also stopped at Pet Smart for a new harness for Art. The old one was giving us some grief and we wanted an alternative. Then we grabbed lunch at BP.

On the way back we stopped in at Midland Tools. It seems the back of the NavPod that houses the chart plotter was attached using security hexes. These are hex nuts with a pin in the center of the hole, which means you need a special allan key with a matching hole to take them off. Neither the chandlery nor Canadian Tire had any, so a tool place was our last chance. I picked up a complete set of security driver bits for $9.99 (plus PST and GST — I’m still not used to the damn taxes).

Then L et al. took the ferry across to Newcastle and I rode the dinghy solo. Back at the boat I broke in via the forward hatch (Leslie had the key), restowed the tanks, and got ready to cast off. While we were gone a big powerboat had parked in front of us, blocking us in the narrow finger. I enquired as to their willingness to move, and he figured that we would fit in the gap between them and the boat across the finger so there was no need. I expressed doubt in return and he produced a tape measure. So we measured. Turns out there was 14 feet and our beam was only 12 feet 9. Plenty of room (rolls eyes). Anyway, both boats involved expressed a willingness to let us squeeze through and offered assistance, so I agreed.

Once L’s family arrived and was stowed below, she and I fired up and started edging out. The two of us, plus four on one boat and two on the other, managed to hand-bomb the Never For Ever safely through — yikes, there wasn’t even room for the fenders — and we were off and running. Boating is definitely an adventure. Then we invited everyone on deck, and I ran out the jib and killed the engine. We sailed out toward Gabriola in 5 knots of wind making a stately two and a half knots. It was great, great fun.

While we were out After Eight (Pattison’s yacht) pulled out and passed us affording everyone a great view of how the other, other half lives. Seaplanes took off and landed all around us and commercial barges, sailboats, and a stream of traffic coming from Dodd Narrows passed us by. We tacked back and forth a few times in the channel and eventually cruised back to the docks and found a berth on the other side to avoid the squeeze. One and all took a short walk around the park and visited the pavilion until it was time for them to reboard the ferry. Then we said our goodbyes and retired back to the boat.

We decide to pay up and stay the night. The docks at the park are much more communal and family oriented than any others we had stayed at. Lots of day traffic with a bunch of boats casting off around 6-ish. And tons of kids running around and diving off the docks into the warm-ish water. Lots of fun and a completely different ethos than usual when we’ve been at dock.

Last Day

The next morning we called the port to enquire after a berth. We were out of power and short on water and needed to empty the holding tank. They were on a first-come, first-served basis and said there was room, but call again from the breakwater. So we cast off and headed in.

After we were snugged up at I-dock and all plugged in recharging, we headed up to the grocery store for a major provisioning. Between the London Drugs, Thriftys, and the liquor store, we ended up making three trips but eventually were were set for a couple of weeks with a need only to replace fresh stuff at some point.

The dock was yet again another type of community. I have to say it was nice to have power and water, but I much preferred anchoring out when at Nanaimo. It’s just a bit too busy and too commercial. Nothing bad though, just different. We listened to music on the boardwalk, walked down to the fishing wharf and looked out over the harbour, then retired for the night.

So that was our first week. We had watched a couple of episodes of the last season of Gilmore Girls on the laptop and read some books and generally tried to get some stuff done but overall it was busy. It hasn’t been very relaxing yet and we don’t have any firm plans of what we are doing, but all in all it was a pretty successful start. We are waiting for R Shack Island to be put back in the water and make the trip up from Blaine. Then we will head north hopefully to spend most of August in the Broughtons.

Stay tuned.

I may have mentioned that there are three crew initially aboard the Never for Ever. There’s myself (Bruce), Leslie and Artemis. No, Artemis didn’t have weird pro-pantheon parents; Artemis is a cat. She’s part Rag Doll, part Norwegian Forest Cat and all over odd. She’s six and a half and recently lost her life-long companion Samantha. We just never considered leaving her behind.

But what do we know about cats on boats? Well, actually nothing. We’d seen one at anchor on Tumbo Island and there’s a few internet boat cats out there of moderate fame but not a lot of solid resources. Dogs seem to be the boaters’ pet-of-choice. There are a ton of them around and we’ve even met a few. And dog advice just doesn’t translate well to cat advice.

But after a little research and a few more discussions, we decided that we couldn’t leave Art behind on our adventure and set out to transform a life-long indoor cat to a boat cat. Luckily we had started letting her out on our upper balcony a few years ago when we moved to the condo, so she was at least fairly used to street noises and smells. Her only traveling though had been to the vet and back and that had been pretty sporadic. So we borrowed a soft carrier from Pedro the Lion (a neighbour cat) and proceeded to take Artemis out for long walks in the park. We also broke out her old harness and leash and let her walk jingling around the house. We had already decided that — aboard — a belled cat was a safe cat.

There was also the small issue that the boat was 1200 miles away and that was a pretty hefty trip for a beginner driver. So we took Artemis for a few short drives. There was little bit of pathetic mewling but, that really didn’t suit her and overall, it went pretty good if the drives weren’t too long. Then we took Art off to the vet to get her shots all up to date (we have intentions of visiting the U.S.) and get any advice from him he could offer. He was very encouraging; he agreed with most of the reading we’ve done that cats are very resilient. It was starting too look like this wasn’t an impossible mission.

A little research suggested switching her litter to pine pellets to try and keep the tracking of litter to a minimum. She didn’t mind the change and kept on with her business as usual. The pellets have a bit of a pine odour that some might find too strong, but since she didn’t mind, neither did I.

Anyway, as these things do, the day of departure arrived. We reserved the back seat for luggage and cat, bought a small litterbox for the floor, added a small food and water dish and arranged everything for the cat’s comfort. We had debated getting a hard carrier but in the end decided as we weren’t taking it on the boat, it was just an additional expense that wouldn’t do much more than the soft one in terms of safety or comfort. So we loaded up the truck with all our worldly possessions — or at least the ones we thought we would need for the next several months — and then loaded the cat in the carrier and the carrier in the truck and headed off at 4 a.m. for the 12 hour plus drive.

The early morning start was partly because we wanted to arrive in Vancouver during the daylight and partly because we thought driving straight through would be easier on Art than trying to overnight in a hotel. It was a good idea in theory. The problem is you wake up tired and never actually recover. I think Artemis was the only one to get any real rest for the next few days as she proved once again that cats are tougher then humans.

The first 3 hours on the road were filled with pathetic mews sporadically drifting out of the cat carrier on the back seat. Leslie tried putting the carrier on her lap but that just made Art more anxious to get out as she pressed her nose against the mesh trying to muscle her way to freedom. Eventually we stopped for a break and a driver change and I decided to let Art out under the strict policy that the back seat was her domain and the front seat verboten. The theory being it would be less stressful to the cat and the slight chance of an accident was worth risking for her (and our) mental health. After some pacing, and bit more complaining about the quality of the accommodations, she eventually settled down atop the pile of luggage where she had the best views and spent the majority of the next 8 hours sleeping with one eye squinked open. Occasionally she would sneak up and retest the “not in the front seat rule” but eventually she gave up.

After we arrived at Granville Island, Artemis was given the run of the cab as we hauled everything down to the boat This actually seemed to make her madder and she huddled in the foot well of the drivers seat. But eventually it was her turn and a quick ride down the docks in her carrier found her introduced to her new home.

When I mentioned Artemis was half Rag Doll I really meant it. She is the most floppy, mellow cat you are ever going to meet. She gives Freida’s cat a good run for cat most like a handbag. And that means when we let her out on the boat she flopped down on the settee and gave us the look, before having a great big bath and the settling down to catch up on her sleep. The new digs were entirely a non-issue. And that pretty much set the tone for the next couple of days.

She was still pretty edgy, but that is mostly general nervousness. We introduced her to a few cubbies and since the dining room table is currently down, the space below makes a terrific cat cave. But generally she is out and about and demanding scratches and attention. We spent 3 days at the dock and it rained quite a bit so she was generally inside catching up on her zzz’s. But when we went out into the cockpit we carried her out with us, all duded up in her harness complete with bell. She was nervous at first and stayed up near the hatch or ducking back down into the boat, but after the second or third time we were out, but left her below, she eventually decided she wanted to be where her people were and came up the companionway on her own. After that she just got braver and more accomodating.

I took her into the dinghy for a little float and she took it fairly well but you could see she would rather be on the bigger boat. The complexity of the physics involved in launching herself upwards off a floating object seemed to escape her, so I made sure I handed her back aboard rather than letting her jump as she seemed prepared to do. She also came out on deck when we  renamed the boat. Her being named after a greek goddess and all we figured she deserved her own tot of champagne (thanks Earl).

Eventually it came time to fire up the engine and cast off. Leslie went below to be with Artemis when I fired up the big noisy diesel. It didn’t seem to bother her outwardly but you could tell she classed it under just an other indignity to endure! She hunkered down in the back cabin for a while until I moved her forward, letting her know that it was quieter there. Crossing the Strait of Georgia took about five and half hours, motoring all the way (except for an abortive attempt at sailing as we passed the north edge of Gabriola Island) and she hung out mainly on the floor in front of the v-berth the whole way occasionally hiding in one of the cubbies below the mattress. After we had anchored we did discover she had been sick, but since hairballs are a semi-regular occurrence with her, it was hard to tell if the motion got to her or it was her usual intestinal cleanse.

Now at anchor, the boat rules currently consist of no kitty on deck without a harness and a supervisor. No clawing anything but approved and supplied clawing surfaces. And no kitties on the transom. This has, of course, made the transom irresistible. She’s literally toeing the line every time I turn to look. But a few gentle swats and constant reminders have seemed to at least made the rule clear. She’s a pretty smart cat. Absolute obedience is another matter entirely. As I said, she’s a pretty smart cat.

So here we sit at anchor for a few days in Nanaimo Harbour. She’s settling in fine and eating well so everyone is happy. And now we will wait and see what the next phase of the adventure brings.