I just realized I never finished last year’s posts (I didn’t even finish any videos!). I will fill things in, I promise, but we are back aboard enjoying some time in Victoria. Short trip this year, only a month—and two weeks of that in Victoria. But enjoyable so far nonetheless.
Here’s what our mornings looks like this week.
And our new custom cutting board courtesy of my brother. I still haven’t decided if we will leave it on board or not.
Or, I suppose, “Back at the helm once more…”
Three years (minus about 3 weeks) since we’ve seen our boat. I have to admit it was a a bit of a shock as, unlike when we purchased it, the rosy glow had worn off and she looked a bit more… well… her age.
Luckily it didn’t take long for the critical eye to go take a header off the starboard side and we nice more settled into the happy, familiar and comfortable home away from home we remembered. Still, there is a lot of brightwork that needs attending to and the canvas is a bit too green for my taste.
I am writing this post pretty much real time because we are back at the marina. Here’s a rundown of the first few days:
Wednesday: flight and ferry ride in and a quick grocery shop to tide us over one night (coffee, breakfast etc.)
Thursday: Our new main showed up so we put that up. Then we hauled our stuff out of storage, L prepped her class and taught. Pub for dinner.
Friday: Still pretty worn out. We finally did a big shop. Stopped to book a rental car and chilled at dock with a lovely ribeye steak for dinner.
Saturday: Walked up the hill in the rain to pick up the rental car and drove to Alberni. We stopped in Cathedral Grove to enjoy some rainforest, visited L’s Mom and brother and then headed back.
Finally time to cast off! We started the engine and … lo and behold … no tach (or engine hours). Sigh. So we called in, made arrangements to come back the next day and headed out to sail around Protection Island for fun.
There was a south wind and we need to make a greater than 90° turn into the wind, so that wasn’t particularly auspicious or convenient and on top of that NYCSS’s chase boat Gotcha was tied up just off our bow — so there was no room for error. So we walked the midship down to the end of the dock with a long line on the bow so we could swing it south into the wind.
A friendly neighbourhood Dutchman gave us a hand when we needed it and we managed to get the boat pivoted without hitting anything or impaling our hull on the end of the dock. And then we were off.
We headed out into 10–15 knots and unfurled the (brand new to us but it had been used by a previous charter) jib, killed the engine and sailed peacefully along slowly regaining our sealegs and more importantly our sea brains. After about a half hour we tacked back to shore and, as the wind was down to 8 knots or so, finally rolled out the main for the very first time. Crisp. Very, very crisp. 🙂
Then the wind started to play mind games. Between the various islands and inlets and big cargo ships at anchor we were sailing in wind that literally rotated 180° in less than a minute and dropped from 10 knots to 2 knots and back up again in the same time frame. Great practice and more than a little frustrating. But we toughed it out and didn’t resort to the engine even though our speed through the water was 0 knots more than once.
Eventually we emerged from behind Gabriola, caught the outflow from Northumberland channel and had a lovely beam reach into the harbour, dodging ferries all the way. We sailed into the anchorage, dropped anchor and settled in for the night.
Around 8:30 pm we heard a thump on the hull and a scruffy young fellow who was living in a nearby anchored boat somewhat belligerently stated we were anchored too close (we weren’t) and kept passive aggressively stating he didn’t care but he needed a new paint job so it was up to us. I tried all of 2 minutes to convince him it was all good and then said we were happy to move if that’s what he wanted. Repeat statement about paint. Sigh…I think he is going to be very unhappy camper when summer comes and the anchorage is actually busy. Speaking of which, it was empty. As far as I could tell there were one or two other transient boats at anchor and the rest were permanent or permanent moorages.
So we pulled anchor and decided just to grab a mooring ball rather than fuss with the anchor. Only one other person moored as well. And then it was back to Jeeves and Wooster.
So we woke up to rain and cold (around 11°C) and I decided to fire up the heater. We had tested it at dock and it worked fine but now it just wouldn’t fire up. I really really hate that thing. Anyway I figured out the error code was low voltage so I tried firing it up with the engine running and it finally caught. I let the engine run for 10 minutes before shutting it down and the heater kept running fine. I suspect new batteries are in our future.
Then it was back to our slip (with the wind from the north which makes it way easier and Rob was there on dock to diagnose the tach problem. Which was a disconnected wire. Easy peasy.
We headed up the chandlery and bought some canvas cleaner and a new fender, picked up our old chartplotter to see if I could repair it and settled in to wait out the rain.
It’s still a crap day and we missed slack Dodd Narrows, so the decision is we will charge up the batteries and take off tomorrow morning. I will update this all again when we hit Victoria after Saturday. Probably it make it more intersting too, with details and stuff and actual drama and storyline and… then again, maybe not.
Regardless, its good to be back.
It’s been sooooo long! And so much has happened. The last time I saw our boat was June 2019. Three years ago!
Actually the last time we “saw” the boat was in the winter as a friendly neighbourhood YouTuber (Sailing Floating Freedom) was nice enough to send me some pictures. They share the dock with us at Stones. Looks like winter was a tad chilly!
As it’s been so long and we were due to do some maintenance so I knew we would have to do some work. Just how much work was a bit of a surprise.
When we bought the boat I had fully intended to do most of the work myself because a) there is no better way to learn and b) it would be way cheaper. That lasted for the year we were aboard but as soon as we became long-distance owners that went out the window. Which really bums me out.
Just a note: at this point I have seen none of these upgrades/repairs. Sigh.
Back in 2020 the seals on our windlass finally gave up the ghost and, as usual, parts were no longer available. We knew this was coming but it burned me to replace a perfectly functional windlass just because it leaked water into the the v-berth. then again I don’t sleep in the v-berth 😉
What we replaced it with was a Lewmar Windlass CPX3 Gypsy/Drum for 5/16” g4/bbb (~$2800). This gives us a drum to use—although I am not sure what to use it for other than maybe hauling the dinghy on board :-). The “downside” is they had to cut a hole in anchor locker lid to fit the drum. I will have to wait and see to judge how I really feel about that.
As previously mentioned we had to get a new tender. I picked up a Highfield 290 UL (with aluminum hull for less than $3000, which I consider a steal.
This was scheduled. We were going to replace them in 2021 but the dinghy took precedence, so this spring I started looking around for a sail loft. I started with the ever popular Precision Sails (they have an awesome marketing department). They are local to Vancouver Island although sails are produced overseas and they are the favourite of all the most popular YouTube channels. Then I looked at a bunch of local lofts: Leitch and McBride, Ballard Sails and a couple who didn’t get back to me.
I finally settled on Zoom Sails who are associated with Jamie Gilford, husband of author Behan Gilford, and the owners of Sailing Totem. They are another overseas loft but distance didn’t actually seem to be much of a barrier time-wise. Partly it was a trust thing and partly it was a price thing. The price was pretty darn good. I am told the sails look good too, but no pics so far. In total the cost was ~$5000 cad for main and jib (fwiw, the highest quoted price was $7500).
I will write a bit more about the process after I have a chance to see—and use—the final product. Stay tuned.
I mentioned at the end of our last trip back in 2019 that I had to replace our old e80 chartplotter as the screen was dying. I purchased a refurbished unit from eBay for ~$400. Unfortunately it didn’t last. I had reports last year of it stopping working and, in the middle of a cruise and learn this spring, it died again. You can imagine the instructor thought this was unacceptable.
After talking to the technicians at Stones and doing a bunch of research we decided to forgo replacing it with the brand new Axiom MFD (multifunction device) that is its natural successor and go for a cheaper Raymarine ELEMENT 9S for around ~$1400. It does most of what the old e80 did but is missing the touch screen and fancy network integrations, most of which would be useless unless we replace all the instruments as well. As far as I can tell the big thing I will miss is that that radar does not overlay the charts and I will have to use it in split screen mode.
The big downside is that none of the new plotters will work with my old analog radar. So that meant upgrading that as well. So we also ordered a new Quantum digital radar (~$2200). Sigh.
Of course all the old system ( AIS, instruments, GPS etc.) is on Seatalk 1 (NMEA 0186) and the new stuff is Seatalk ng (NMEA 2000). So we will have to get a bunch of bridging hardware and hope and pray it all connects. More on that after we get it all installed and running. The device does have WiFi but I am currently unclear if I will be use an app to access it. So much to learn.
I do now how a perfectly functional e80 with a bad screen and a less than functional e80 with a good screen. The spring project will be to see if I can make one functional e80 chartplotter.
More inconsequentially, since the guys are going to have to run some new cables to the binnacle I thought they could run few more wires and add a USB outlet so we can power our phones/tablets etc. in the cockpit. It’s something I keep meaning to do but haven’t actually gotten around to. So that will be nice.
So who’s counting. Since 2019, not including regular maintenance items we have forked out around $14,500 for a boat we haven’t been able to use. I will say that Covid, after a rocky start in 2020, was a big windfall for the charter industry and bookings have been really, really good. So how much this actually costs me out of pocket remains to be seen—but it won’t be anywhere near that, thank goodness. And of course hoping that nothing else breaks.
In the next bunch of years these sorts of things are going to keep poppin’ up. Off the top of my head:
By which time the cycle will start all over again… The joys of owning a boat 🙂
Oh, and btw, our flights are booked. We will be back aboard at the end of April, and if all goes well, we might actually have 2 months aboard to make up for the all the non-sailing years.
W00t.
Not completely, but nevertheless it’s a sad day for us. The West Marine 310 RIB we lovingly called Laughing Baby has reached the end of her working life and it’s time to put her out to pasture. (What’s the marine equivalent of pasture…lagoon?) She still floats and as of today doesn’t leak at all. But the wood transom is starting to go and it makes us nervous to put the big 8hp on her these days and worse, the dinghy guys say the vinyl is nearing end-of-life. And since we charter her and the Never for Ever as a team… well she just isn’t up to snuff anymore.
We’ve been keeping an eye out for a good used RIB but haven’t seen anything come on the market that was suitable. Oddly enough there are lots of inflatable bottomed tenders, but the sharp rocks and oyster-filled shallows of the PNW make that just a bit contra-indicated.
I was checking out kijiji in BC the other day and came across a Highfield 290 UL for under $3000. That was way more than I had in the budget, but the more I looked at it the more intriguing it was. The UL stands for ultralight which means it had an aluminum bottom which was both tougher and lighter the fiberglass of the current boat. At 9’7″, the 290 is about 7 inches shorter that the current RIB and comes in at 86 lbs vs the 113 lbs. But it will still handle the 8HP and fit 4 people comfortably.
I figured if buying new might now be on the table, then I should do my due diligence and call around. At the time I assumed the 2021 Vancouver Boat Show was off (turns out it now is being held virtually in late February) so it thought waiting for a show deal was off the table. I checked out a bunch of dealers and talked to Nanaimo Chandlery — which is run by the same people as Nanaimo Yacht Charters — to see if they could get me a deal but it seemed this Highfield’s price was as good as it first appeared.
So I called SG Power in Victoria to get the scoop. Turns out it was a 2020 floor model and yes, it was still available. So I bought it.
So now I had a problem. Actually a couple of them. I was in Alberta, the marina was in Nanaimo and the new tender was in Victoria. And we weren’t going to be on the coast before May at the earliest — and even that was up-in-the-air with the Covid situation. The fellow at SG Power was, rightly so, reluctant to commit it to commercial shipping as it was out of the box and it would be hard to ensure it made the trip intact. He did however volunteer to store it for me, even after I told him worst case was us not making it out until spring. Great service and a pleasure to deal with these guys.
The other problem was I really didn’t think Laughing Baby deserved to be unceremoniously discarded as she still had a lot of life left, albeit perhaps not zooming around at high speeds. So now we had two dinghies.
I talked to a few friends on the island but none of them had the facilities or vehicles to help with the problem and the people at NYCSS didn’t have any trips to Victoria planned—although they did generously offer us use of the truck when we finally made it out. So we had a fallback plan but I was hoping to get it dealt with earlier. Then I sent a note off to Matt from Gudgeon to see if he knew anyone. Matt is back in Victoria after he left his boat in Mexico Sadly she is now for sale). He said he would ask around and actually sounded semi-hopeful. I offered a trade of transportation in exchange for Laughing Baby just in case someone with a truck was looking for a cheap dinghy. Fingers crossed.
In the meantime I am talking to a few other contacts/friends and if I have to, I will pay for a rental truck—although that solution still leaves me trying to find a home for the old dinghy.
First world problems: another conundrum is what we name the new tender? The original was a compromise, because we thought Laughing Baby wouldn’t play as well on the VHF as Never for Ever, so the I suggested we assign that name to the tender. And that deal still stands. But do we keep the name as is? Add a “Two” or “II” to the end (or “Too” as some people go for.)
I guess we will wait and see—these boating rituals are sometimes a puzzle.
So that’s that. Hopefully we have some fun oaring ahead of us and maybe even a bit of zooming. Finally here are few final images of the adventures we’ve had with the original Laughing Baby over the years—and if you know anyone who will give her a good home, let me know.
It’s late August and I have yet to go sailing.
There is a small, small chance we will get out in September, but that will mean working remotely and frankly I am still up in the air about whether that might be more stressful than enjoyable. So maybe it will be a year without cruising.
As we all know it’s Covid times. While it has provided hours of amusement speculating online about the short- and long-term effects and watching sailing YouTubers scramble to a) establish a new lifestyle and b) try and make that lifestyle viewable, I think we can all say it’s been a less than optimum spring and summer. For myself it has been mildly stressful at times but I mostly think of us sailing our condo and the lifestyle hasn’t been to oppressive. Less visually interesting, but not as oppressive as some have felt it.
However classes start in a few weeks and L is back to work, and the University experience isn’t going to be what it has been up to now. So how that will affect spirits and optimism, well, we shall see…
Our boat is in charter. In a usual year we sail anywhere from 2 weeks to 2 months— mostly in the shoulder months and then the boat is chartered out by our friends at Nanaimo Yacht Charters. The revenue from the charters mostly pays the bills of boat ownership, give or take a few thousand here or there.
This year? Not so much. Given the timing of Covid, not only did we not get to sail but all of our booked charters were cancelled. In fact all of NYCSS’s booked charters were cancelled. The bills (moorage, insurance etc.) however were not cancelled. Really roughly, the boat costs us around $14000/year to own. That includes the above-mentioned costs, maintenance, repairs, shore power and storage of our stuff. In a regular year, NYCSS covers the costs out of revenues and come year end we settle up with the party owning taking care of surplus or shortfall. But this year with no revenue coming in and the marina (landlord) and insurance companies not willing to defer payments, it fell to us owners to fork out the money when it was due—June-ish.
An unexpected $10,000 bill can come as a nasty surprise, let me tell you. And it wasn’t done as we were now on a month-to-month basis for bills due and it was likely more expenses were coming down the pipe.
This was made worse by the fact that we decided (back in February) it was time to finally replace our leaky windlass. So while we have a spiffy new Lewmar CPX3 windlass, we also had $3000+ expense that we had budgeted for, but at the expense of our “emergency” funds. And then there was the emergency. And no funds. Sigh.
Worse, we had a brand new windlass and no time to use it. Ok, maybe not worse, but darn frustrating…
Butt thankfully BC eventually started to loosen its lockdown and NYCSS spent a lot of time marketing to Canadians and BCers in particular. And bookings for July/August started to slowly come back. Eventually we had clawed our way back to almost the number of bookings that had been cancelled. It was a pretty slim year year—our slimmest since the year we put her into charter mid season—but it was not quite as “devastating” as we had brought ourselves to expect.
Again, all this and it is highly likely we won’t even see the boat this year. But at least some people are getting to enjoy her.
Better times…
My final winge is that I have been following along with a bunch of boaters I know and because the US/Canada border has been closed, all my favourite haunts in Desolation have been virtually empty even in high season. I have seen pictures of Prideaux in mid July with 3 or 4 boats in it. It looked glorious. It would have been the perfect year to go sailing if you enjoy the isolation part more than the socializing part. And we do…
So all in all not the best year…but it could have been worse and a lot of people are a lot more frustrated than we are: picture a Canadian boater who stored his boat across the border in Blaine—totally inaccessible but only a mere hundred yards away. Talk about maddening!
Final accounting will have to wait until year end, but I have a small hope that I won’t owe anymore money and maybe, just maybe see some of the cash spent so far come back to us. But I am not counting on it. These days with Covid and all, I am not counting on much of anything.
Years ago when we first started chartering I created a Filemaker database to track our voyages and sea miles. A lot of charter companies want a “resume” and I had heard if I ever wanted to get some really advance certification that one needed minimum numbers of recorded miles as crew and captain. So I used the database to track miles etc. At the end of each trip I would diligently add in all the days, miles, notes and lat/long if I had happened to note them.
Fast forward a bunch of years and my version Filemaker now no longer runs reliably on my updated OS. And since I no longer have any need for it, buying a new license doesn’t seem like a reasonable expense. Luckily I had both a printout of the contents and was able to export the data from the files between crashes. But it was time to acquire a new database tool.
A bit of sniffing around the internet and it became clear that building a MySql database was going to be the likely successor. But unlike Filemaker, it has no graphical interface—so that meant if I wanted it to be at all user friendly I would need to build a custom php website to add, view and edit the data. Since my knowledge of both MySql and php was cursory to say the least, it looked like an impossible task. But nothing ventured, nothing gained…
MySql text interface
To cut a very long story short (or at least shorter) I managed to find a nice tutorial for building a CMS (content management system) and then began the painful task of hacking it into my new Cruising Log. Along the way I have learned tons and tons and have thoroughly enjoyed the exercise. As a work in progress it probably took me around a year to get it to the state it’s in now—although a lot of that was back-tracking to do things over so future changes would also work. I am a very dangerous coder.
The original design was based on the idea that I would get home after a cruise, grab info from the official ship’s log and then type it all in manually. But I use Farkwar.com to post updates on a daily basis while I am cruising which updates our position by means of an email formatted in particular way:
Enter text and/or notes here. ----- At 04/24/2020 10:40 (pdt) our position was 49°50.1068′N,124°31.6473’W Destination: Nanaimo
It occurred to me that my site could also parse the email and potentially update the database automatically. So I rejigged the email in a way that allows Farkwar to ignore the extra information and leaving me able to enter what I wanted to. Next I wrote a python script to parse the email, extract the relevant data and output in a format that MySql will understand. Then when I send it to my secret Farkwar email, I cc it to a personal secret email—Farkwar will post the position and update its map, and my python script will parse and post it to the database. So now the email looks like this:
Log Entry We decided to go. It will be an arduous journey but I have faith we will survive it mostly unscathed. Whales will be looking forward to our visit ----- At 05/21/2020 10:40 (pdt) our position was 49°50.1068′N,124°31.6473’W Destination: Nanaimo From: Edmonton To: Nanaimo Distance: 0
…and this results in a posted entry that looks like this:
But before I could really get going I had to build the website, connect it to the MySql database in a more or less secure way and start formatting various pages. Another long , hijinx-filled story I won’t bore you with. So after a few farcical fits and starts, the site now consists of a front end with two pages (an overall view and a detail page for each cruise):
…and an admin backend that allows me to add/delete/edit boat lists, crew lists, and the cruises themselves.
Of course it is never that simple, and a lot of extra things needed to be built along the way—like a login screen, a database table to hold users and some truly convoluted MYSQL statements to be able to display and edit the information I wanted in the way I wanted it. (And, as I just discovered, a way to delete an entire voyage.) But in the end I got it done.
I also realized that since I had the latitude and longitude nicely formatted it wouldn’t be hard to build a link to google maps: https://www.google.com/maps/place/49%C2%B0%2030.8916%20N+123%C2%B0%2057.8196%20W so I could visually see the various locations each entry was made. So I did.
The last piece of the puzzle was the ability to print a nicely formatted pdf version of the log as a whole. I started off experimenting with some php to pdf utilities but in the end decided to design a nicely formatted webpage and then print direct to pdf.
After all that, I decided not to schedule the updating script and rather I will just run it when I get home —at least for the first few trips to ensure everything works in real world conditions. That is if we ever get to go cruising again 😉
The very last thing I did was port a copy from my personal server to the server where NeverforEver.ca is situated and try and set it up as a sample. Which, after a long battle, you can now find here: Cruising Log. If anyone is interested in the back end, let me know and I might send you a temp admin password.
It’s been a great learning experience and makes me want to do more development. Apparently Swift is pretty close to Python, and Swift is the official language of iOS development. Maybe I could make it into an iphone app next? If this COVID thing goes on long enough, well, who knows…
P.S. As a side note, according to my fancy new cruising log, not including inland water trips, I am officially at 6218 nm total cruising.
P.P.S. I will likely post at least the python code over at macblaze.ca, but probably not for a few days as it will take a bit of cleaning up.
We’ve owned Never for Ever for almost exactly 5 years now. And its been a pretty damn pleasant experience so far. Will our luck hold? Time for an update…
If you’ve haven’t gone through the whole blog, here is a little bit of how we came to own our trusty 2003 Hunter 386.
When we started this process 2014 we wanted a boat to own for one year while L had her sabbatical. The intent was to sail the PNW, overwinter in Victoria while living aboard and then sell her after we had to come back to real life in July 2016. Which is what we did. Except for the selling part. In the end we just couldn’t part with the lifestyle and we decided to keep her and put her in charter with Nanaimo Yacht Charters to provide guardianship and help defray ownership costs.
The year-long sabbatical meant we wanted a turnkey boat that we could board and sail away without any extra major investment, or worse, time delays. A lot of searching ensued and as luck would have it we landed on what has been the perfect boat, at first for the living aboard, and then for putting her into charter.
The initial survey
Other than the initial purchase price, we’ve done well. There was a bunch of cash we spent right off the bat before we even set off, but the largest costs of ownership since then have been fixing leaks. And that high number mostly stems from paying people to do it as we are 1000+ kilometres away from her 80% of the time.
Initial expenses:
Major things we spent money on since then:
Shiny new chain!
Ongoing ownership costs include:
I’m not going to dig up all the figures but none of these items (except for the %^&$# motor mounts and associated costs) were more than several of hundreds of dollars—and it has been divided over 5 years.
Oh and the windlass. The windlass was just replaced and I don’t have the final bills yet although the estimates had that pretty price—close to a couple of boat bucks (~$2000). What sucks about that is it worked perfectly fine but since Simpson Lawrence has gone out of business, we couldn’t source any seals (we tried for almost 2 years) and it was leaking a ton of water into the forward compartment. So we bit the bullet and replaced it.
All in all, a pretty short list considering the tropes of boat ownership are BOAT: bust out another thousand (dollars) or Cruising: the experience of fixing your boat in exotic places. We definitely lucked out in our choice of vessels—especially considering our naiveté in boat buying matters.
Up on the hard while the motor mounts are repaired
We’ve spent a lot…a lot… less than I had anticipated over the last 5 years.
The charter option has worked out for us. Being a 2003, the boat already had its maiden dings and dents far in the past and no charterer has inflicted any damage that wouldn’t be accounted for under the heading of normal wear and tear. NYCSS has done an outstanding job in the guardianship department with annual (or more frequent) haul outs, polishing and even a bit of varnishing here and there and making sure everything worked in tip top shape.
With this arrangement we’ve done darn good — even made ~$100 last year — and, excepting the year I backed over the tender’s painter and broke the motor mounts, our annual cost of ownership has been around one to two thousand dollars. That includes moorage, repairs, maintenance, guardianship and insurance. And we’ve been able to sail anywhere from 27–67 days a year. It may not be for everyone and certainly you can’t have the same kind of pride-of-ownership, but having Never for Ever in charter was the right decision for us. I doubt we would have sailed even a quarter as much if we’d sold her and had to charter ourselves.
As much as we love her, Laughing Baby’s days are numbered.
So as it stands, after 5 years, Never for Ever is pretty good condition still—excellent even. According to periodic checks of Yachtworld, she would likely sell for near what we paid for her. There is a bunch more wear on the sails and we are currently in the market for a new tender so there are still a few things to keep our eyes on. The enclosure canvas is still good but the side panels might need new clears soon, although as they are taken up and down so often they would just get scratched again. Other than that she is still a fairly turn-key vessel with no other major expenses in the foreseeable future—which is a good thing because with Covid-19 and decreased charter revenue, our ownership costs this year are likely to skyrocket, and, what is much worse in my eyes, with potential zero usage by us.
So It’s been a grand 5 years. And I look forward to a whole bunch more and maybe, hopefully, we can get back out and live aboard again for another year — or maybe even longer.
(Disclaimer: as previously noted somewhere in this blog, I am a notorious rounder of figures. The above was just meant to say that overall the cost of owning this particular boat has been pretty affordable. Your milage is definitely going to vary.)
As is almost everyone in the world right now, we are stuck and are having difficulty even imaging getting out on the boat in the foreseeable future. So to amuse myself I have been looking online for that future “forever” boat.
Who am I kidding; I am always looking online at boats. But what I have done is work on a project that fixes an annoyance of mine.
Some time in the recent past YachtWorld, which is the de facto standard for listing boats, decided to redo their website. And one of the outcomes of that is that you can no longer search for boats in multiple places at the same time. And seeing how I desire to buy a boat in the PNW (which used to be a selectable search category) and the PNW ostensibly includes British Columbia, Washington state and Oregon, I now had to perform three separate searches with no way to “save” a previous search and be able to compare. A definite downgrade if you ask me.
I had recently started to learn how to scrape websites using python because I wanted to be able to post a “books read” page on my personal site. Web scraping is a method of visiting a site and stripping the data from it. It occurred to me that I could apply the same procedure to YachtWorld and retrieve and aggregate all three searches to one output. So off I went.
My initial method was to build a python script that output the data to a php web page. After a lot of trial and error it worked. But this meant every time I wanted to do a new search I would have to run the terminal command again and enter in the price range (which were the only variables I included). This produced a database file which the php page could then display. This was pretty onerous, particularly because I kept forgetting the proper commands :-). I also held out some hope that eventually I could share this with other people. There had to be a better way.
So I investigated further and discovered Flask, which is—simplistically put—a way to turn a python script into a web app. After a lot of fiddling (which I will detail soon over at macblaze.ca) I came up with this:
The new version added the options for Canadian vs. U.S. currency and length and the ability to sort the results. It is all one compact, self-contained unit and works 100% from a web browser. The search returns most of the details of the boats and links back to the official YachtWorld result so you can dive deeper into any particular boat. If you ask me it turned out pretty good.
A qualified success.
I am stuck now though. It currently runs on my testing server and when I went looking to deploy it, discovered that my official web host doesn’t provide python support. I would either have to switch providers or get an additional (paid) account at another web host. I did find pythonanywhere.com, which offered free, albeit limited, python/flask hosting and was excited for the full hour it took to set up and get it running. You can find it here (http://btk.pythonanywhere.com/) but unfortunately the free accounts won’t let you scrape websites that don’t have official api’s (application programming interface)—which YachtWorld does, but it isn’t free so I don’t have access to it. So while the app is running it won’t actually deliver any results.
So now I am faced with the choice to either open up my testing server to the world (which I am not likely to do), change providers (and I just paid for the next couple of years) or sit on my little project and declare it for personal use only. I haven’t given up yet, but the prospects look dim*.
So here I sit, a vast distance from the boat and any prospect of cruising and a weeks worth of work sitting on a computer with no way to share. And I am now getting tired of running the search over and over again. Sigh.
Anyway, if any of you experience the same frustration with YachtWorld, I sympathize and want you to know that there is a way around it with a bit of time and even less knowledge—which is something we should all have in abundance right now.
*(May 2020) I managed to start a vm (virtual machine) to run the program. And I’ve added Sailboatlistings.com into the search as an option. The link (for now—it will likely get taken down at some point) is here: search.neverforever.ca. At this point I am still adding features but i assume I will eventually get bored or, if I am extremely luck, actually go cruising…
If you’re interested, this github repository has the whole flask app now.
I finally got around to editing all my video footage from April 2019. It really only needed 3 videos to cover the trip but I wanted to do the week-plus spent travelling with the Calgary Yacht Club as a separate video, so I ended up making 4 with the last one mostly just a round up of the last week, easing back into the real world and cleaning up.
I also thought I would publish a bit of background on the vids themselves. Some of the online forums I participate in are filled with curmudgeons that insist that YouTube is filled with freeloaders and people with no, or bad, work ethics. If the amount of effort I put into my — admittedly bad — videos can be taken as a measure, then those who weekly produce high (or even medium) quality videos for their sailing channels are in no way suffering from work ethic issues.
All 23 of my videos can be found here on the Never for Ever channel. It has a whopping 21 subscribers, half-a-dozen likes, and 6.8k views lifetime. The most views at 1.7k is a short, mostly unedited video of our second solo transit through Dodd Narrows on a Bayliner 38. I guess people just want to see what all the hype is about? The least amount of views (not counting the new ones) is 62 which is Part 6 of our 2017 trip to Desolation—I guess people were getting bored by then as Part 1 has 222 views.
For those who have never been to the channel, here is a summary of what you will find:
Why do I make these? Successful YouTube channels have a hook or theme—something to attract and retain viewers. Me? Not so much. I got to thinking about it during the last round of editing and realized my imagined audience (the enormity of sadly ignorant people who really should come to know and love the PNW) and my real audience (family and friends) were worlds apart. Given the videos I do create, I would guess my subconscious realizes this, as I would definitely characterize them as a “travel log” for people who know us.
To expand the channel by any degree I think I would have to make the leap to official travelogue. This format has a long and storied history in the world of television but it would take a bunch more research and filming to really show the essence of places we visit. And it’s not really feasible for me to move into the vlog world. At the very least, that would take a more cooperative (and less camera shy) partner and a lot more talking to camera…or even any talking to camera. Hmmmm…
And there is no way we could really be a true sailing channel — not with all the motoring we do 🙂 I can just imagine the scathing comments.
One of the main reasons I make the videos is to practice and sharpen my software skills. My “Map” is a perfect example of this. I needed a map to display routes and rather than steal (and it actually is stealing) one off the internet I decided to make my own based on various sources. I traced a detailed outline into Adobe Illustrator and then modified and added layers to it. This was then imported into Adobe After Effects, routes added and animated and finally placed into the main Premiere video file for integration with the rest of the footage. It is labour intensive and complex and I end up learning something new every time I attempt it. Good practice, lousy efficiency.
The 3 videos I did to promote Nanaimo Yacht Charters were very much done for practice and proof of concept. It started when Water Dragon, a 2017 42 Lagoon, was going into charter and had done some videos to promote the boat — and I really hated his splash screens. So I volunteered to see if I could add something to it.
This:
Became this:
Then I redid an interview video he had done, tweaking the audio and lighting and played with a sample cruise itinerary of the Gulf Islands, which incidentally is my second-most viewed video despite the fact that it is beyond horrible.
I have also discovered subtitles recently. When I took my one brother for a tour through the Broughtons I checked to see if YouTube had CC (closed caption) capability (he’s deaf). Turns out they have an automatic captioning tool that, like most “autocorrect” type features, produces some awesomely funny results. Fortunately there is an ability to edit and add your own captioning, so I have started to add that to all my videos.
Hardware-wise I mostly use my iPhone 7 (or iPhone 5 in past videos), a Nikon Coolpix L80 with 28x optical zoom for long shots, and an SJCam (which is a cheap GoPro knockoff) for wide angle, timelapse and underwater shots. I long for a drone but keep talking myself out of it. At home I use my 2015 Macbook Pro to edit and last year invested in a 32-inch Samsung monitor after my old 21″ burned out.
As you can see, one of the “hardest” things about cruising is giving up all that delicious screen real estate for the puny 13″ monitor on my laptop. 😉
I am lucky enough to have the full Adobe Creative Suite so I use After Effects for animations and titles, Audition to prep and balance the audio and Premiere to put it all together. This year’s videos feature a lot of colour grading, which is a new skill for me, and a little experimentation with 2.33:1 anamorphic aspect ratios. I will usually open Photoshop and Illustrator at least once during a project to tweak an image or build some sort of graphic like the compass rose.
I had originally meant to say something about time invested and work ethic, but I think I have blithered on enough. Suffice it to say I shot these videos in April and it is now December. The rest I will leave for a future post. So, without further adieu, here are the four 2019 videos.
Part one is YEG to Lund.
Part two is Desolation Sound: Lund to Shark Spit.
Part three is a loop through the Discovery Islands with my brother and the Calgary Yacht Club‘s annual flotilla and our return to Smuggler Cove.
Part 4 is just our trip home from Smuggler, an encounter with the start of the VanIsle 360 and cleaning up.
Happy Father’s Day!
I know I have blogged the whole trip with overly-lengthy and oft boring trip reports but I thought I would add a wrap-up for those who just couldn’t stomach all those words. And a map of course…
“Local knowledge” is the term used when a boater navigates a dangerous area using prior experience (and not through ignorance). The image above was taken in the Copeland Islands. The pass which this Bayliner just transited is completely dry at low water and this image was shot about mid tide. We were holding our breathes as we saw him come through anticipating some sort of horrible scraping as he bounced off the rocky bottom. But fortunately he motored casually through, barely slowing down. Extraordinary.
We’ve almost kicked the marina habit. Without the flotilla and good management, I bet we could have gotten our total number of nights at a marina down to 5 or 6. And that really makes my wanting to shell out $1000 for a portable generator a non-starter. Oh well.
And once again we reaffirmed our decision to sail in the early season—awesome weather, minimal mosquitos and rarely too hot & sweaty. And, except when we sought out the company (the CYC flotilla), minimal crowding at some of the prettiest anchorages around.
Not tons of wildlife this trip but some interesting new anchorages (Ballet Bay, Tenedos Bay, midway down Von Donop and Pendrell Sound). And I learned a lot about sail trim from watching the other boats on the flotilla. So all in all a great trip. Hopefully enough of one to last me until next year…
As always a jpeg of the map in case Google ever gets mad enough at me to block my access:
All alone at last. We were now on the clock before getting L back to civilization so it was time for some serious relaxing. We pretty much decided, between available time and battery charge, we would spend a few days in Smuggler Cove then scoot back to Nanaimo, spend a day (or afternoon) recharging our batteries at Stones and finish off the week in Mark Bay.
There were a few things I forgot to mention in the last blog post. One was the appearance of these totally cute tube-snout fish (Aulorhynchus flavidus) on our swim ladder in Pendrell Sound. About 4 inches long, these funny looking things are closely related to seahorses.
The other was just how much I learned about sail trim from sailing close proximity to other sailors in the same conditions.
As an example if you compare the trim on the two headsails you get a wonderful example of what air spilling out the top of the sail really is in terms of sail shape. It doesn’t necessarily tell you what will work on your boat, but by observing and comparing others you start to get a better sense of what all those many words of advice you read mean in a practical sense. Very useful and I learned tons.
What a lovely hot and sunny day.
We decided to take a trip in the dinghy to Thormanby Island and visit the beach there. It was deserted except for one set of intrepid campers, so we had the whole place to ourselves.
We wandered around for a bit, although my foot was giving me a bit of trouble so there was a lot of standing in cool water and sitting on logs. Later in the day I did run into this fellow who was living aboard his smaller boat (30 feet maybe?) with his wife and two kids. His outboard had died so he was traveling everywhere by sail only. It had taken him over 8 hours to get to Thormanby from Halfmoon Bay the previous evening having to tack back and forth. My Navionics app tells me that is around 2.5 nm, less than a half hour motor for us.
At one point I was standing in the slowly receding water watching all the clams spit and thought to myself, “I wonder if I can dig one up?” I used my handy-dandy walking stick and started scratching in the sand until lo and behold I found a small clam. At first I was convinced it was dead, like every other clam we had ever seen, but I noticed it was still shut pretty tight. So I plopped it back in the water and watched in fascination as it slowly dug its way back into the sand.
Turns out this was a Varnish clam or Savory clam (Nuttallia obscurata). Not native to our shores, it is an import from Japan and considered an invasive species. I sped the film clip up 4x so you wouldn’t have to sit through all his shifting around.
Back on the boat we cracked a chilled bottle of white to go with the fading heat of the day and enjoyed a lovely sunset.
Overnight the winds came up. Once again I had to get up in the middle of the night because I forgot to secure the boat. This time it was the spinnaker halyard banging against the mast. I have to say, one thing about full-time cruising was we got used to these noises and were much better able to sleep through them. Now I have to learn to get used to them all over again every year.
It was a windy and cold morning, but the forecast said it would be nice by noon. We were planning on heading to Nanaimo as the batteries were getting low. So we decided to wait. At 2:30 p.m. it was still 20 knots off Merry Island and gusting. The forecasts are always so reliable (he mutters sarcastically). Well the batteries were sitting at 55% and we’d wasted most of the day waiting for the weather to warm up, so we decide to make the 3 nm trip and tie up at Secret Cove instead.
There we were finally able to dump the garbage we had been carting around all month—the aft locker was getting a bit stinky—and do all the recycling. A few places along the way had had limited options for recycling but garbage is pretty hard to get rid of unless you want to pay for it. Since we had the storage space we figured why bother.
We tied up alongside Drumbeat, a 70+ foot racing boat that had been fitted out for cruising. It was massive. I spent half an hour just tracing all the lines and halyards. You could adjust literally everything on this gorgeous sailboat.
All tied up, the weather was suddenly sunny and a lot warmer and we had a quiet night.
We woke to a calm morning. Too calm. It didn’t look like we would be sailing at all today. That’s what you get when you choose comfort over sailing I guess.
It was overcast as we cast off. As we headed down Welcome Passage we kept the radio on the weather channels to see if Whiskey Gulf was active. It was. This was the first time we had ever had to change our direct course to Nanaimo to avoid it. Whiskey Gulf is a military exercise area that is often closed to transit. It’s a rough trapezoid shape in the middle of the Strait roughly from Entrance Island near Nanaimo up to almost Parksville. So we headed east along Merry Island, checked out the lighthouse and weather station there and eventually turned south towards Gabriola. Later we could see some sort or warship stooging around near Ballenas Island but it was too far away to identify.
On the last leg of the trip we finally got to roll out the sails and had a nice bit of sailing for an hour or so. As we came around Gabriola the traffic started to pick up and we were squeezed between two big huge Seaspan carriers, one following us and one coming out. And just as we cleared those, the Duke Point ferry started coming up on us from behind and we could see two Departure Bay ferries behind him crossing each other’s course. All safe, but a little nerve wracking…
Then, after all that, the Gabriola Island ferry crossed just in front of us just to keep us on our toes.
We dropped anchor in Mark Bay. The anchorage was nearly empty (if you didn’t count the private moorings—and there were a lot more private moorings than last year…sigh). We opted to grab dinner and some cider at the Dinghy Dock Pub since that would save us from having to shop for one more meal—we were almost bang on in our plans to use up all the provisions. After that it was a warm calm night and we drifted off to sleep.
A sunny, warm morning. I spotted a smaller sailboat sporting the white ensign on one of the park mooring buoys and then noticed the crew were all wearing the same sort of uniform. Then I noticed another just behind it. A quick google and it turns out they were the Royal Canadian Navy’s STV Goldcrest and Tuna (Royal Canadian Navy Sail Training Vessels). These are two CS-36s that were bought back in the 80s to provide hands-on small craft sailing experience to Navy personnel.
Then I figured out they were here for the VanIsle 360 which is a big international race around Vancouver Island. I posted a pic and Matt from Gudgeon let me know they also had one of the Orca class Patrol Vessels as their support vessel. Too cool.
The previous evening I had spotted a mast in the cut between Protection Island and Newcastle so we rowed over to check it out. It looks like someone was caught out by the drying reef and foundered. It couldn’t have been there too long (a couple of months? more?)althugh it had been stripped pretty thoroughly. But I wonder just whose responsibility getting rid of the wreck is going to be.
We spent the day resting and later went for a lovely walk around Newcastle. Then, just before dinner, I managed to smash my pinky toe while walking down the deck. I had been babying my feet all week in preparation of hauling all our gear and then I go and turn one of my toes a vivid purple. Smooth move…
Another sunny and calm morning. The harbour really is empty except for permanently moored boats. We will probably be in for a huge surprise the next time we come back in high season, we are getting so used to the low volumes of boaters at this time of year.
While L was still around we started packing up bins, recording the inventory on our spreadsheets and sorting the laundry. We got it all done in about a half-day.
Then we motored in by dinghy to Stone’s where L’s parents picked us up and we headed to Tim’s for doughnuts, coffee and a nice visit.
Back on the boat we spotted our first Lions mane jellyfish south of Desolation. Didn’t get a good picture though. I wonder if that’s normal?
We woke up bright and early and started to raise anchor. It was time to head into the marina. Turns out though, the VanIsle 360 was about to start—so we took our time and drifted around the anchorage for a while so we could see the start of the race. Talk about a whole lot of money in sails and technology circling around like hungry sharks. Neat to see and it made a whole lot more sense than it might have otherwise with our brief introduction to racing with the flotilla.
Snuggly tied up in our slip, we walked over to the BC Ferry terminal and dropped L off for her trip to Vancouver. Then I moved bins into storage and generally cleaned up a bit. Later in the afternoon I found the new (used) chartplotter I had purchased on ebay and had shipped to NYCSS and sat down to install it.
It was a straight swap: Raymarine e80 for e80 so wiring wise, pretty simple. I got it all done and setup except for tuning in the radar. There was just too much signal in the marina and it looked like I would have to take it out into open water to calibrate it. So I left it for the NYCSS guys to do. Nice to have a working screen again. Now I have to decide if I will send the old one away to get refurbished or not. I’ve since found out the backlight issue is fairly common on these models and there are places that will swap out the fluorescents for new LED technology.
And that was that.
I spent the last day cleaning and doing laundry.
I noticed after spending an hour or two scrubbing canvas, trying to get the moss out, that after it dried, it still wasn’t looking very clean. That’s when I realized I had purchased Mold and Mildew Cleaner… moss…mold…it’s the same thing right? Not.
Around mid-morning an old friend from Hole’s swung by for tea. Liz had been at a family thing in Nanaimo and saw on Instagram that I was here as well. She wandered over while she was waiting for her ferry. Super great to catch up.
I hauled the clean laundry up to storage and dealt with the last of the chores before watching a bit of West Wing and heading to bed.
I was up early. Turns out it was too early. 1 hr too early. I have a lot of trouble with rounding sometimes. Anyway, I was off the boat and chilling in Seair’s terminal before 7 a.m. waiting for my 7:45 flight. We were on the Cessna again —I miss flying in the Beavers — and landed in south terminal YVR 15 minutes later.
The Entrance Island lighthouse.
Coming up to the docks at south terminal, there was a strong current and the dock boys screwed up their lines. Turns out it was their first time doing it alone and didn’t get a wrap fast enough. Then they couldn’t sweat the line to bring the plane onto the dock. The pilot had to cast off again and bring her around a second time, this time a bit closer to the dock. Alls well that ends well, but its nice to see that the pilots have troubles sometimes too.
2 minutes later one of the Turbo Beavers came in and and that pilot slotted it into a tiny spot with just enough clearance. I would have hesitated to do that in a boat. Show off. Back at the terminal, one of the taxis then backed into a bus. An exciting morning! We took our shuttle into the main terminal and that was it for Cruise 2019. I did learn that if we call Seair from the terminal next time we fly in we can often grab a ride on the shuttle if it happens to be heading back. Good tip.
I will write up something a bit more numerical for the official roundup but I will finish this by saying it was a great cruise. At the end of the trip I was eager to head home to my own bed for once, so I think that meant I had my fill of time aboard which makes the length just perfect. And we saw some great spots, met some great people and had some great experiences. So that makes the trip just perfect too.
I’m a weird guy: shy, misanthropic and anti-social combined with a strong aversion to being alone, intensely curious (or snoopy if you prefer) and sporadically “afflicted” from FOMO… you could say my relationship with the world is complicated 🙂 My brother OTOH is a people person. He collects friends wherever he goes and is never shy about forming bonds with anyone he comes across, no matter what any particular social code may say about that. I guess that’s why the guy without a boat and in a wheelchair is the one who got me out cruising with a flotilla and not vice-versa.
So there we are, cruising around Desolation Sound with a diverse group of people. And not just people: racers! Will drama ensue? Fights over who won what? Secret midnight commando attacks to sabotage other boats? Spoiler Alert: it was plenty ‘o fun! And chock full of details so brace yourself for a long one…
The morning started with a skipper’s meeting. The current right outside Blind Channel (where, if you remember, we were currently docked), while not particularly dangerous was going to be running at 5 knots around 9 a.m. which incidentally was the time we would need to leave to catch the midday slack at Dent Rapids. While we did see three boats slowly make their way up the channel against the current, it was agreed upon to wait out this current, head to Shoal Bay for an afternoon break and do the 7 pm slack.
We cast off first. I am still a bit agog about how nervous the other skippers were and how blasé we now are about the various currents and rapids. I think Waggoners puts a bit of a scare into everyone with their “worst case scenario” approach (although I appreciate why they do it). Be that as it may, we bucked a couple of knots current for a few minutes and then emerged into Cordero Channel with absolutely no wind.
A bit later L spotted a sea lion eating a largish fish. He would pop his head out of the water and thrash it violently until the fish went flying off leaving a nice hunk in his mouth to swallow. Then he would fetch his fish and repeat the whole process. So determined was he to choke down this meal that he sunk out of sight as a powerboat passed right over him and then immediately resumed the process. We watched him in the binoculars for quite a while: onboard entertain at it’s best.
The wind came up just as Shoal Bay came into sight and we could see the rest of the flotilla way behind us raise their sails but we opted to just settle in to the bay. As its name suggests Shoal Bay shoals out quickly. Drop your hook in 50′ of water and you can find your stern in 8 feet or less. It took us 3 anchor attempts to be sort of satisfied (either it was too shallow or the anchor kept skipping) and immediately decided our earlier offer to Teka to raft alongside us was not going to work. 30 minutes later Teka showed up and rafted alongside us — how’s that for decisive.
L went for a row to rescue a fancy fender that was drifting out of the bay; turns out it belonged to one of the powerboats tied up at dock. Then, as it turns out Jean on Teka was a bit of an amateur bird enthusiast and I had mentioned to her we had spotted some stunning Violet-green Swallows here last year, Leslie was drafted to take the budding ornithologist out to see if one could be spotted. Alas to no avail as the silly things wouldn’t hold still.
It was a pretty lazy afternoon as we all just hung out and visited. Later L and I went ashore, watched the crew of Rainbow’s End and Time Warp play horseshoes and watched a horde (around 10-12) of hummingbirds zoom around the feeder at the little pub. I really do like Shoal Bay.
Some of the fleet cast off early — leaving us and Teka behind. We took the time to have a tour of this classic old 80s boat and then reciprocated by giving Larry a tour of Never for Ever. Some very different design aesthetics from two very different eras of boat building.
Then Teka let go her lines and we started to raise anchor. At this point we actually started to pay attention to our surroundings and it turns out that at some point in the last 20 minutes or so (during the tour) our anchor had let go and we were hundreds of feet away from where we used to be. Not only that but we had about 80 feet of chain out and were now in 90 feet of water. Umm… Turns out later our drifting had not gone unnoticed but the crew had failed to make connections between our movement and the fact that we were no longer anchored to the bottom. Oops. Oh well, no harm done.
We motor-sailed for a bit until we caught up (and passed) Teka and then killed the engine and sailed downwind just on the jib. The rest of the flotilla was still ahead of us, having been out gybing back and forth and having a good sail as they all waited for slack at Dent. We really have to take a page out of these guys’ book and raise the sails more often.
When we arrived it all looked good so we surged ahead of the fleet and entered Dent about 15–20 minutes early. It was a flood turning to ebb so we got a good push and actually had to try and slow down to not be too early for Gillard. Once Gillard was safely transited we motored to the community docks at Big Bay and tied up first at the otherwise empty docks. Everyone else slowly slotted in and an appie pot luck was declared for one hour hence. I had made some boule on the sail down and popped the focaccia that I had also prepped into the oven so our contribution was fresh bread with some oil and vinegar.
I also gave a few more boat tours to some of the other cruisers while L was stuck socializing with the group at large. And that pretty much ended the day. So far socializing with other people hadn’t killed anyone yet — fingers crossed.
It was a sunny morning. Big Bay on Stuart Island is situated right between the Yuculta and the Gillard rapids so we had to wait until noon before we could cast off. Our destination was supposed to be the Toba Wildernest (which we had attempted to visit two years ago but were turned away). But a last minute email de-invited us to tie up at their docks — they really don’t like spring cruisers there I guess. So we had a skippers’ meeting aboard Norfinn to settle the day’s plans. It was decided that we would head to Walsh Cove and along the way have a little pre-race race to see how each boat and crew could perform.
Apparently the charter companies don’t like their boats participating in racing — and having seen the mindset of racers in action I have no problem understanding why :-). So the CYC members were careful to refer to any competitive sailing as “the Parade.” They weren’t fooling anyone but the forms were followed and that’s all that counts.
The plan was to gather at the 40°N mark south of the Yucultas at 2:30 pm and head around Raza Island and up Pryce Channel. The halfway mark would be just abeam of island north of West Redonda around 165°W with the finish between of the light at the top of Waddington Channel and Beam Island on the north shore of the channel. I asked what we would do if there was no wind and the others were confident that wouldn’t be an issue . Heh heh heh…
The rapids were a bit swirly as we cast off but no big deal to transit about half an hour early.
The fleet was divided into two divisions: the two big boats (Gloman Magic 42′ and Norfinn 49′) and the most experienced racer (Rainbow’s End 36′) in Division One. The other division was us (completely new to racing), Teka (theoretically a big old barge of a boat) and Time Warp (who at 32′ would technically be among the slowest of the boats). At the start the wind was clocking in around 3 or 4 knots so Teka and TIme Warp decided to cheat by rolling out their asymmetrical spinnakers. So here’s the thing. Our Hunter, with it’s weird-ass B&R rig, sports a tiny 110% jib. Both these other boats already had us out-gunned with their 130%+ genoas, but that wasn’t enough for them. The lightweight colourful spinnakers are huge and meant for kind of light winds we were currently experiencing. Luckily they are a pain to raise and fussy to keep filled in these slow drifting conditions.
So we took off like a shot (well ok, more like a slightly inebriated slug with a bad sense of direction) and gained substantial distance on our division-mates before they even crossed the line. We slowly drifted past both Norfinn and Gloman Magic (who eventually stalled in a dead spot and gave up on the race entirely) and that put us second overall and first in our division — Woot! Apparently we also came up on Norfinn on the windward side and stole what little wind they had. Who knew I was a race tactician on top of everything else?
The view from 5th place Teka.
About an hour later Rainbow’s End, who had read the conditions right and had been sneakily drifting towards the opening of Hole in the Wall, caught a nice breeze and took off at a bazillion miles an hour leaving the rest of us looking like rubber ducks bobbing in a bathtub. Eventually, one by one, we all caught the breeze and had a lovely beam reach sail into Gaza Passage. Where we stalled. Like I mean really stalled. So stalled our dinghies were passing us because they were lighter and drifted faster.
Now one might think this would be extremely boring and frustrating. And I suppose on one level it was. But at one point when we were drifting faster than Rainbow’s End and Norfinn (who had reached the passage before us), it looked like we would actually take the lead of the “parade.” At .25 knot boat speed, our adrenaline surged as we urged our vessel forward, determined to capture the overall lead. But alas we caught a back eddy and lost all the gains we had made. An hour later at 5 pm they called it. We had a few hours to go to our anchorage and had moved less than a dozen meters in the past hour. Division Two ended up almost perfectly all line abreast so who “won” remains in much dispute. (Although I think our claim that we stalled first secures us the win.)
After that it was a glorious motor-sail to the head of Toba Inlet and Walsh Cove with stunning views and loads of sunshine.
We stern-tied in 50’ at Walsh Cove and had a bit of an issue with the anchor not catching. But eventually we ended up in 12 feet of water with our stern about 10′ off the rocks: easiest stern tie ever. All settled in we rowed over to be social aboard Teka and had a glass of sparkling wine to celebrate Larry and Tracy’s 36 anniversary. Look at us…being social…
Quite the day.
Oh what a beautiful morning… 17° C. Coffee in the cockpit and some serious lazing is a great way to start the day.
For some reason I was being mobbed by bugs. Small black flies that didn’t bite or anything but I ended up with half a dozen drowned in my coffee. Blech. And what’s with this bug sense they seem to have? There appeared to be a consistent number and density of bugs annoying me but no matter how many I killed or drowned there seemed to be replacements waiting in the wings. Is there some sort of infinite supply that mandated to maintain the proper level of bug density? If there are actually infinite bugs why am I not drowning in the pesky buggers? Curious minds want to know.
L and I went out for a row to explore and check out the petroglyphs on nearby rocks. Quite nice examples of the form. We also spent some time peering underwater and watching the Oystercatchers that were wandering the shore. Really cool looking birds. In turn, a snoopy seal spent quite a bit of time checking us out.
Eventually we took off had a great sail tacking through Waddington Channel and then turned to go up Pendrell Sound where the flotilla had decided to stop for lunch. We made it about a quarter of the way up on sail before the wind died altogether and then we motored the rest of the way.
The fleet had been maintaining a watch on VHF channel 68 for inter-boat communications but as we started tacking back and forth across Waddington it turned out the Waggoner’s Alaska flotilla was also on 68. So we were treated to a bit of a guided tour of Desolation Sound with some interestingly insecure boaters asking all the good noob questions… ah, those were the days.
We dropped anchor about 3/4 of the way up Pendrell. Three boats were already there rafted together and splashing about in the water. Apparently Pendrell Sound has the warmest water in Desolation, which in turn has the warmest water in the PNW. On the surface it was running about 72° (22°C) that day. Of course about a foot lower it was much, much colder. Still, it was bearable and much splashing and swimming ensued.
Pendrell is a beautiful place, surrounded by snow covered mountains and rolling hills. Jean and I watched an immature bald eagle who spent its time watching us. Its identity was in doubt for a while (immature bald eagles do not yet sport the distinctive white head) but eventually her bird book and some high-powered binoculars confirmed the ID.
After lunch we all headed off for Grace Harbour. It was calm until we hit Desolation Sound proper and then the wind climbed into the 20s with some pretty nasty gusts. We were just about to roll out our headsail when Time Warp, who was just ahead of us sailing on their genoa, got nailed by a huge gust and rounded all the way up. Then Norfinn tried to raise their main and almost immediately dropped all their sail again. We decided to just motor the rest of the way, although everyone but Gloman Magic eventually managed to find a nice balance and sailed it. Apparently Rainbow’s End and Teka — way behind us — had a great sail, managing to hit hull speed (their theoretical maximum speed through the water).
The current was running in Malaspina Inlet and we hit 9 knots over ground in a few of the narrower spots. Eventually we all trickled into Grace Harbour anchor in fairly close proximity. We enjoyed a late supper, some tea with Teka and relaxed in the setting sun.
Morning came around grey and cloudy and we lounged around until 11 am. Brian had dinghyed by to let us know today was race day. The “parade” would go from between Sarah Point and Kinghorn Island to Major Islet (the rocks just off the Copelands where we had seen the sealions).
Raising anchor proved that perhaps we had anchored in a bit too close of a proximity to each other and Gloman Magic‘s anchor came up with Rainbow’s End‘s chain. A quick tug from the dinghy and it was all good.
Coming out of Malaspina Inlet the winds were fierce and most everyone was throwing in reefs and we were contemplating bailing altogether — but once we got out into the Sound proper they settled down and it looked like a long downwind sail was what we had in store. And right after the start of the race everyone with a reef shook them out and we were off.
As previously noted Hunters are not known for their downwind performance so we decided to check out the rumour that gybing back and forth in long broad reaches is actually faster. So we watched as the other boats headed downwind towards the finish line and we sailed westward towards Vancouver Island. We had just turned back towards the line and, at 6+ knots, it looked like we might actually rejoin the pack in a good position, when Time Warp asked permission to raise their spinnaker and then “poof,” Teka had theirs up in a shot as well and any hope of catching them was gone.
Teka won. We think it was unfair. Mostly because we lost. We were the underdogs and so should have won…right?
I had been worried about pulling into Lund so late in the day but the wharfinger did a fantastic job of squeezing us all in (along with the Comox Yacht Club who were there as well). We were rafted up to Rainbow’s End and Time Warp ended up rafted alongside Teka and everyone else got a nice spot at the docks with no one relegated to the breakwaters.
Dale had been looking forward to a good shower after a few days of being stuck on board but it turned out the handicap shower was out of order. But they made do. He also popped a tire in his wheelchair—but a patch kit and a borrowed air pump made short work of that. As if cruising isn’t already full of work that needs to be done. All cleaned up and presentable we all headed up for dinner and presentations at the newly reopened pub at the historic Lund Hotel.
Most of Teka’s crew, looking smug as they’d already eaten while the rest of us wasted away.
Growing pains made dinner for 20-odd people a long, slow process and the thought of presentations was abandoned since half the people were ready to go before the other half had even been served. Our table managed to score free drinks as an apology and we had a nice evening chatting with the American contingent of the flotilla.
It was rolly in the harbour overnight and a squeaky fender between us and Rainbow’s End threatened to keep me awake after I woke up in the middle of the night. So I dragged myself out of bed and liberally applied some dishwashing soap to the fender to lubricate it. The bright blue Dawn soap made for an interesting “stain” the next morning.
We gathered on the dock for presentations. We came in third in our division and scored a lovely bunch of smoked oysters. I think were were robbed and should have gotten second (I guess I really wanted the 2nd place bunch of smoked oysters). It was obviously a high-level conspiracy and we had failed to grease the right palms (wasting all our lubrication on the fender). I figure this means we will just have to come back next year and exact our revenge.
Teka came out of it as leader of Division Two and overall winner. Apparently they managed to lowball expectations and sandbag to a point where everyone had expected them to barely be able to cross the line with their handicapped crew and overweight brick of a boat. Hah! We weren’t fooled, even if they managed to pull the wool over everyone else’s eyes.
Watch out Teka…we are watching you now…
After that we all started to pull out for our respective destinations. Gloman Magic and Norfinn were due back at the charter base in Comox and Teka had crew to drop off at the same place. Rainbow’s End and Time Warp were headed back to Sidney and we were going to start our slow way back to Nanaimo.
Rainbow’s End was off like a shot and we kept company with Time Warp while they broke out their spinnaker again as we sailed downwind around Harwood Island. Then they opted to head further west and we gybed back towards the Malaspina Strait.
Later we lost the wind and motored south in calm waters eventually deciding to keep going until we hit Smuggler. It was a long day but we had a glorious few days of doing nothing ahead of us so decided to get it over with.
Morning found us stern-tied back in Smuggler. It was a the start of a lazy, lazy day. All that socializing takes a lot out of a guy. And we really weren’t used to the constant movement from one place to another. We really hadn’t done much of that since we got our own boat.
I wanted to take the dinghy into Secret Cove to pick up some FSR (to start on the brightwork) and some Doritos — running low on snacks can be a grave issue. So we did. And that was the sum total of useful things we did that day.
A very west coast sunset.
What a week. We had tons of fun and there were enough people and enough separation that we could all find some time a space to hide when it got to be too much. I have to say I think I really could start to like the idea of flotillas. At least with a groups of interesting and friendly people. And almost uniformly boaters seem to be interesting and friendly people. So there you are. I’m glad my brother invited us along and we will be sure to join in again if schedules align.
And I found out apparently, because of the last minute presentations, we were cheated. Cheated out of our traditional right to winge and moan good-naturally about our failure to win. I knew it.
This racing thing might be addictive.
All in all it was a slow week. We finally settled into the groove and got in some relaxation time. So that means this will likely be a pretty short entry. I think. Lucky you.
Rain in Von Donop Inlet. We knew it was coming so it wasn’t much of a surprise to wake up to the sound of rain on the deck. It wasn’t raining too hard so I still got my morning coffee in the cockpit and the inevitable and annoying drip from our overhead traveller didn’t start until I was almost done. And then I pretty much stuck it out there for the rest of the day, shuffling around to avoid the various drips. L, on the other hand, didn’t emerge at all; I think she popped her head up maybe twice all day. She at least spent the day productively, working away on her project.
I spent the morning finishing last week’s blog and enjoying the sights and sounds of a rainy PNW day at a beautiful anchorage. At the risk of encouraging even more people to visit at this time of year, rain really can be a positive rather than a negative if you just adjust your mindset.
It was still a pretty warm morning (15°-ish in the cabin). The cove was pretty sheltered and there was absolutely no signal so I have no idea what the weather was actually like elsewhere — but we were treated to glassy, still water and lots and lots of precipitation. It rained pretty much non-stop all day.
Last night as we explored the anchorage by dinghy, L picked up some cell signal and we got a text from my brother. Apparently he is already aboard Teka and heading north to Comox, expecting to arrive in a few days. Since he was supposed to board in Comox, I have no idea where he actually started from. We tried to get a note off letting him know we would likely meet him in Gorge; if we were lucky he got it.
At one point, when the rain slacked off to a mere dribble, I did grab my rain pants and jacket and rowed out into the main inlet to try and get a cell signal. I picked up one bar and a wet ass. Seems the waterproofing on my rain pants has held out pretty well in every area except the ass — something I hadn’t expected. So, pants and underwear…not so dry.
And that was the day.
Two nights was all the batteries had so we decided to head to Quadra Island. It was a beautiful day for a sail, so we motored the whole way to try and get as much charge into the batteries as possible. We even motored slowly to maximize charging time. Although the initial plan was one night on the hook and one night at Taku Resort, we were thinking if we could jam enough amps into the batteries to stick out two nights on the hook then we could skip the fees at Taku since we were subsequently booked into two nights at Gorge Harbour.
As we passed the entrance to Hoskyn Channel, L spotted a whale watching boat headed our way and then, a few minutes later, the telltale long black dorsal of an orca. They were about 200 meters off and headed straight for us. We killed the engine just as they dived and they must have passed below us because we didn’t spot them again for several minutes before the reappeared off the port side, again a few hundred meters away. With another whale watching boat coming, a small powerboat circling back, and the Whaletown ferry barrelling straight for them, we decided to just float there and watch them swim away rather than altering course to keep them sight. Sometime I feel mighty sorry for them—it’s a wonder if they get a moment’s rest. Anyway, we estimated 4–6 in the pod although its always hard to get a good count and they were diving for longer periods than usual between breaths.
As we rounded the spit, there was one other boat at the north end just dropping anchor so went a bit east and dropped in 40’ of water and backed on to the shore to settle in about 17’ with our bow facing south. There were supposed to be little to no wind and pretty protected from the north, so we figured we were good.
We ate and went for a walk around the spit and enjoyed a lovely evening soaking in the relative calm and the gorgeous views.
The calm before the storm.
We enjoyed that lovely evening until around midnight. Then L and I were woken by winds howling, gear banging and the anchor chain creaking like a medieval torture device. The forecast had called for calm winds out of the north west, but what we got was strong winds out of the southeast — the direction we had absolutely no protection from. Thankfully we had anchored bow to the south so not only was your anchor set that way, but all the chain was already out that direction and there was no question of us swinging further toward the rapidly shallowing shore.
What we did have was an awful racket. I had not secured anything since we weren’t expecting wind. I made several trips up on deck to tie back slapping halyards and lines, snap down flapping canvas and finally to readjust the snubber so the loud creaking sound of the chain banging on the seafloor stopped being transmitted right into the cabin. But by that time we were wide awake. And also kinda freaked out by the violence of the swing and the plethora of creaks, groans and bangs. So we slept in the salon for most of the rest of the night, keeping an ear out and eventually moving back to our cabin in the early morning.
When we finally got up, we overheard that the Truant 36 who had dropped anchor beside us (but set it 180° to us) did drag a bit but no one else seemed to have suffered any other consequences.
Around 11 am L had her conference call while I hung out with her in the cockpit. That bit of work done, we headed into shore to buy some supplies. We finally found some skim milk so that big crisis was averted and we also picked up some snacks and sundry other things.
The rest of the day was walking the shore and relaxing. I spotted some beautiful fritillarias and explored the massive piles of driftwood ever-present on Rebecca Spit. We did find a halibut head in the dinghy after returning from one of our strolls. I have no idea how it got there except maybe a passing eagle or seagull dropped it. Gross anyway you look at it.
We kept an eye on the battery monitor and it looked like we would be good until morning without having to run the motor.
We awoke to cool, grey weather and a state of charge of 52%. Time to “get up and go little dinosaurs!” (inside joke). An hour or so later we were negotiating Uganda Passage purely with charts at low tide. Not having a functioning chartplotter was really honing my chart reading skills. This involves a bit of a serpentine in a narrow channel threading amongst three buoys. It always seems a lot more difficult than it actually is.
It was not quite 11 a.m. when we emerged from the passage alongside Shark Spit — which is a long sandy spit south off of Marina Island that necessitates the Uganda passage transit. It’s a popular place for locals, picnics and lunch stops but we’ve never actually stopped. Since the tide was out and the entire spit was exposed we decided it was time to give it a try.
I had Leslie drop anchor when we hit 20’ but by the time I had the boat in reverse we were down to 4’ under the keel. Oops. So we pulled it back up and moved out to 40’ of water and tried again. Success. We rowed ashore and beached the dinghy in the mud flats that were exposed. A bit to the north a local had their shoal keel sailboat completely beached so they could work on the bottom while the tide was out. Handy.
The spit was a lot of fun. We collected oodles of shells and sand dollars (the first we’d seen in this area) and walked all the way out to the end of the spit. We were maybe 100’ from the green buoys we had just passed. When the water is up those buoys look like they are in the middle of a huge pass. We also found some huge spiral shells that were broken and it was hard to guess what they were. Later when back aboard we figured they were Moon Snails, which can grow up to 2 and half inches. We also spotted what I thought was plastic or rubber refuse but turned out to be Moon Snail egg collars. I wish I had known so I could have checked them out more closely. Next time.
We made lunch as the winds started to build out of the south and by the time we raised anchor they were doing pretty well. It was only 15 minutes to Gorge so we motored along spotting 3 dolphins off the starboard side for just a few minutes before they disappeared.
We headed to the fuel dock but had to wait while they got a power boat tied up in the increasing winds. After we filled up we moved out, switched our fenders to the starboard and headed into our slip. Luckily the by now strong wind was blowing us on to the dock so it wasn’t much of an issue, but that was the first time I have ever entered a finger with the boat in reverse and still making too much headway.
The rest of the day was watching boats arrive and the shenanigans associated with a strong wind on exposed docks. The Calgary Yacht Club flotilla gradual assembled. Rainbow’s End, a Dufour 36 was already at dock when we arrived. Teka, the Kelly Peterson 44 my brother was aboard snugged in behind us. Then Norfinn, a Jeanneau 49 from Desolation Sound Yacht Charters showed up to everyone’s consternation. A bit of miscommunication had listed it as a 38’ boat and they were not prepared to accommodate an extra 12 feet of boat on one of their busiest weekends of the season. They made it work by rafting up Time Warp, a Catalina 32 to Rainbow’s End. Last in was Gloman’s Magic another Jeanneau from DSYC, this time a 42’ DS (deck salon). And that was the group for the next week. I gradually met most of them over the next few days.
We were stern to the wind, and while Teka blocked some of the waves, it was a loud bangy night in the aft cabin as the waves slapped up against the transom. It’s one of the worst features of the design of our boat and if the wind had been just a little less, I would have backed into the dock to avoid that particular flaw. Still, we eventually managed to get some sleep.
Visiting aboard Teka.
The morning started with a coffee with my brother aboard Teka and a skipper’s meeting aboard Norfinn. It was weird being one of the more experienced skippers there. I would guess most of them were probably better sailors than I was, but they hadn’t been through these waters much and only Larry (Teka) and I had been through the rapids multiple times. The plan was to head north through Surge Narrows to Octopus Islands; transit Upper Rapids the next day to work our way to Blind Channel; and then come back through Dent and Gillard to Big Bay. Then the next morning we can scoot through the Yucultas and then it’s a couple of days in Desolation before we head for Lund.
I don’t know if I have ever mention my brother is in a wheelchair. I was anxious to see how he negotiated the problems of moving around a sailboat. Larry et al. had devised a great portable ramp system and the low center cockpit of the Kelly Peterson made it relatively easy for him to haul himself off and on the wide side decks. It really wouldn’t work on our Hunter.
The Cortes Island Seafest started at 11 and everyone headed up to enjoy it. We opted to do laundry. Shellfish and I and not currently on speaking terms. That and the fact that until this point we have spent a sum total of $34 in moorage (at Lund) and had just been hit with a $150 touch for two nights — have I mentioned that Gorge Harbour is a pretty high-end resort? I was still in shock and another $50 to sample seafood that would likely be a literal pain just seemed silly.
Seating was open to the public however, so we joined in, listened to music and met a few more flotilla participants in between laundry loads. L went back aboard to finish off the last of her presentation so she could send it away while we still had some internet access. Later she came back with a bag full of cider. Lucky me.
That night the band moved down to the deck overlooking the marina and we were treated to front row seats from the comfort of our own cockpit.
I was up pretty early but the flotilla were up even earlier. We planned to get off the dock around 9:30 but as the boats strutted casting off one by one that shifted closer and closer to 8. L was not impressed when I came down and shooed her into the shower since all the other boats had already taken off and we were last at dock.
Eventually we cast off and headed out. There was more turbulence in the gorge than I had ever seen before. Nothing to fuss about but still a new phenomenon. We spotted three dolphins as we turned west to head for Uganda. Maybe the same ones we had seen coming in?
It was a long sunny motor up to Surge Narrows where we caught up to the other boats who were milling around. Eventually someone pulled the plug and we all transited through a swirly Beasley Passage like ducks in a row.
A short while later we dropped anchor in Octopus Islands and set up a stern tie. We were first in as some of the others hung back and the rest opted to go thought the rockier (but ostensibly deeper) back passage. We had hit the narrow pass into the islands at low tide and a few were wondering if their deeper keels would be a barrier. There was never less than 13 feet of water so I really don’t think this was a real issue.
Eventually everyone showed up in the inner cove with 4 boats lined up in a row and the two others on the other side. Rainbow’s End opted to stern tie to a boulder that eventually ended up well below the surface of the water. It’s really not something I would do, but it all worked out for them. Still…
Some people headed off to hike to the lake at the far end of the bay, but we opted to hang and I rowed around the cove for a while.
I heard the others raising anchor at gawd-awful o’clock but didn’t bother to crawl out of bed to see, instead just rolling over and drifting back to sleep for a few more hours. You see, there were two possible slack at Upper Rapids that day. One, just before 6 a.m. would give you a push up Johnstone; the other, at noon, would have you bucking the flood tide. I wasn’t going to get up at 5 just for a knot or so push.
At around 7, I crawled out of bed, made some coffee and hit the cockpit for some peace and quiet. Four out of six boats were gone with only us and Norfinn opting for a more civilized beginning to the day. The sun was still out and shining brightly but it only lasted about an hour until the south winds brought in clouds and the occasional drop of rain.
L rolled into consciousness right around then and we started our morning by doing pretty much nothing except watch a family of Canada Geese showing off their rock climbing skills. And we emptied out main propane bottle. Luckily Blind Channel can refill it for us. Eventually we started prepping and raised anchor in a light drizzle before slipping out into Okisollo Channel to poke our heads into the rapids. We transited about 20 minutes early and Norfinn tucked in about 5 minutes behind us.
It was a grey, calm day and we motored the whole way. A few points displayed some interesting currents and we varied between going 8 knots and 3 depending on what the water was doing. Eventually we tied up at Blind Channel and despite both a warning by the staff and prior experience, I almost got caught out by the ever-present current. It just sneaks up on you at the last minute.
We opted not to enjoy opening night at the restaurant and visited a little with Teka. The flotilla had started out pretty well although the constant movement each day was something we haven’t done since our chartering days. Still it was fresh and interesting and maybe we would actually sail with the fleet at one point 🙂
When last we blogged we were tied up in the Copelands starting to get into the cruising groove. We have been binge-watching a lot of Episodes lately which was Matt Le Blanc’s Showtime series about a fictional Matt LeBlanc. It stars Tamsin Greg and Stephen Mangen who I just adored on the British series Green Wing. If you are at all into absurd British humour you really need to watch Green Wing. Episodes always starts with a Previously… so… This week: Desolation Sound!
Another beautiful day. The morning was again work for L and after lunch we took off to explore. I see a pattern emerging. We motored up to the cove in the central island that seems to be the popular anchorage of the Copelands. It is however open to all the wakes from boats transiting Thulin Passage so it doesn’t really appeal — but the approach is much less nerve-wracking than our little hidey hole.
Speaking of nerve-wracking, we are still having some low, low tides left over from the new moon. and when we putted out the entrance of our cove at low tide we could see a large metal spar actually poking above the surface of the water by a few inches; it emanated from the charted wreck that lies along the east shore. I never realize just how close to the surface it was. The wreck is directly below a large conifer up on the ridge and lies about 20 feet off the shore at low tide; closer to 30 at high tide. Be aware. That still gives you 30–40 feet before you have to worry about the rocks on the west side of the narrow passage. While I still recommend entering this anchorage at low tide so you can see said rocks, maybe it might be better to do it a couple of hours earlier or later.
There was one boat anchored in the centre of the cove we headed for, eschewing any of the new fancy stern-tie chains that have been recently installed — seemingly all over Desolation Sound and the Sunshine coast; there must of been a government grant or something. We did a slow reconnaissance to check out the chains for future reference and then used one to tie up the dinghy and head ashore. There a bunch of easy paths to follow that wind around the south portion of the island but couldn’t find anything that led to the north portion.
On the way back we check out the southern-most island and it looks like it has a bunch more trails so we will have to head over one day. Next trip though, as our batteries look to be around 55% tomorrow and it is time to think about a recharge.
Out in the Passage we had got enough signal for me to discover that SV Violet Passage has tied up in Campbell River. A quick Instagram message confirmed they are ready to head north so it looks like we definitely missed them this year.
I awoke to a very loud, very bossy eagle. And a couple of equally noisy Canada geese. What a racket! I thought these hideaways were supposed to be peaceful.
With batteries almost dead we now had basically two choices. We could find a marina and plug in or go for a long motor and try and pack as much juice back into them as possible. With topped up batteries we have 3 or 4 nights power but ft we just rely on the engine to recharge we can’t usually get them past 90% (which will take 5 or 6 hours of motoring) and that leaves us with only 2– 3 nights on anchor.
Batteries
For those that are interested we use about 15% of our total batteries capacity in one 24hr cycle. Our lead acid battery bank holds 450 amp hours at 12v, only 50% of which is available to be used (lead acid batteries don’t like to be drained less than 50%). That means we use around 67 amps a day—the majority of which goes to powering our fridge and freezer and running the stereo.
I would love to pick up an alternate power source, but solar panels aren’t really appropriate for a charter boat and I waffle over the cost effectiveness of a small generator. They are worth around $1200 — the equivalent of around 20 visits to a marina. Since we usually see only 2 or 3 marinas a trip, that’s a lot of years of amortization.
After some back and forth we had a plan. We decided to head to a marina, which meant Lund, Gorge Harbour (which we were visiting next week anyway) or across to Quadra Island and Taku Resort. A bit more consulting of the charts and calendar and we decided to head to Lund for a night. Then we could spend a week in a couple of anchorages (tentatively Tenedos Bay and Von Donop Inlet) and make our way around the back of Cortes to Taku where we could reprovision, do laundry and top up on power and water. That would leave us in a good position to meet up with the flotilla either in Comox or Gorge by the 16th.
As we puttered around getting ready to cast off I noticed our two loud goose friends on the cliff behind us. Then I noticed the six goslings also scattered across the cliffside. Let me tell you watching tiny little yellow fluff balls scale cliffs is another pretty nerve-wracking activity. And mom and dad didn’t seem to even notice…someone should call social services…
Speaking of wildlife I had forgotten to mention the 6-inch squid who spent quite a bit of time checking out the yellow paint on our chain rode way back in Smuggler Cove. I have never seen one before; according to the guide book he (she?) was likely a Loligo opalescens also know as an Opal Squid, or a Market Squid, or even more commonly known in a restaurant near you as calamari. Mmmmmm…calamari…
We left on a rising tide and both the wreck and the rocks were invisible. All this was made a bit more sketchy by the fact the chart plotter is still pretty dim, almost unviewable in dim light. But no objects were hit. I spent a few minutes once we were clear of the cove looking at my macerator. I don’t think it is operating properly, but luckily enough I have two. We switched over to the back-up and were “rewarded” with a blast of…well…crap. Now we can empty the holding tank later on.
Lund had a slip for us on the north side of A dock. (Slips can be at a premium at Lund and it is a strictly regulated first-come first-served. They won’t even give you slip assignment until they see you approach the breakwater.) We tied up, plugged in and walked up to the harbourmasters office to check in. $34 later (which is a real deal) we were all registered and decided to go pick up a few provisions at the store. And since we were spending money anyway we indulged in lunch at Nancy’s Bakery — I had a most delicious grilled Monte Cristo — and later again in dinner at the Boardwalk Restaurant.
Back on the docks, I noticed we were tied up alongside a 50-ish foot Ocean Alexander and right behind them, a huge 64-foot Northern Something-or-other. 10 feet in boat length makes a huge difference in overall boat size. We felt positively puny. Cruising never fails to remind me about the relative scales of wealth.
We grabbed a last shower with our newly heated water (such luxuries at dock), before topping up the tank and unplugging from the dock with fully charged batteries. There was no wind to speak of as we motored north through thulium Passage. We had definitely decided on Tenedos Bay as our next destination. It’s another of those “popular” anchorages in Desolation that we had yet to visit, so we decided to give it a try since it was more likely to be empty at the time of year. As we rounded Sarah Point we finally “officially” entered Desolation Sound and the view, as always, was stunning. I took etc same pictures and video I take every time although you would thin by this time I would have realized it was nothing new. And the water was empty of boats other than one smaller powerboat fishing off the point. The wind did come up a bit but we’ve already fallen into the trap of laziness and didn’t bother to raise the sails for the short trip. I think we are going to regret that when we finally join the flotilla which I predict will be stuffed with landlocked sailors desperate for a breath of wind. I predict we will get our asses kicked in the inevitable racing.
Tenedos had a large expedition type yacht on the hook in the main anchorage off the mouth of the stream. It had to be 60–70 feet and had the look of something more likely to be found in the Arctic than cruising around here. Unfortunately it was gone the next day when we took out the dinghy so I never did catch a name other than the OP emblazoned on the side of the forward superstructure. Other than that we had the place to ourselves. We anchored in the west arm on the north side of the bay just off the tombolo that joined the small island to the mainland. We dropped in about 40 feet of water and just swung in the middle of the small cove rather than fussing with stern lines.
Later I finally got to row the dinghy — stealing control from the oaring fanatic I travel with by the simple expedient of jumping in the boat first before she noticed. We toured around the anchorage spotting hundreds of the small red starfish (leather stars?) and lots of the purple and pink ones as well. Two small deer were wading in the shallows off the point and back at the boat we discovered that the rocks on the north side of us were apparently a favoured haulout for about 15 harbour seals. They remained around us for the entire stay, coming and going with the tide and occasionally, when basking in the sun like a loud pile of cats, all came crashing back into the water when some loud noise startled them.
We did discover a few more items on my “Oops I forgot pack that” list. Earlier the amount of mosquito bites on my ankle pointed out our complete lack of bug repellant (I usually pack it though we’ve never used it before but…), and my rapidly reddening forearms pointed out that leaving the sunscreen at home on the counter was a dumber mistake than leaving my good kitchen knife behind.
Late that night we were joined (although off in the centre between the two arms) by a 50-ish foot Meridien named Bad Habit. They were pretty good neighbours except for the generator. They only ran it in the late mornings though, so that was all right.
What a warm sunny day. [Insert sigh of contentment here] We spent the day mostly relaxing and watching the seals noisily fight over the best sunning spot on the rocks. Later on a nature watching boat came scooting over the submerged tombolo with a load of eager junior naturalists and paused briefly by the pile of pinnipeds… they didn’t even budge. I guess they are used to being an attraction, because every time we even sneeze they all go crashing into the water as if we had set off a bomb.
Later in the day we were joined in our cove by a small trawler-type with 4 men and their toys. They were ok neighbours if you had to have neighbours. L suggests to me that my article in Pacific Yachting encouraging people to take in Desolation Sound during the early season worked…which is a bit of a bummer, albeit an ironic one.
We mounted the outboard and scooted over to the trail head for a hike to the lake. It was more of a walk and all of 7 minutes long. Disappointing. We did back track and take the more “rigorous” south trail which consumed another 15 minutes and was a bit more interesting as it terminated on some sunny rocks with a nice view and a rocky “beach” one could wade or bath in —something one of our trawler buddies was currently doing. When the sun got too hot he meandered back and spent a half an hour of so sitting on the rough bridge over the stream enjoying the miniature rapids and noisy babble of the lake water slowly emptying into the sea. “Everyone should be quiet near a little stream and listen.” This is a quote from Ruth Krause that was illustrated by Maurice Sendak and I use it as one of my desktop pictures. Every one really should…
Back at the trailhead there is a campsite and we chatted with a nice couple from Colorado who had just kayaked in. He helped me drag our dinghy back into the water as it had receded a good 30 feet and heavy and awkward when the 8hp outboard is on it. They were out for week and then heading north by car to Alaska. Watching them unload was fascinating. Two adults and a dog is cargo enough but the amount of stuff they unpacked from the two person kayak was kind of astounding.
Heading back to the boat we were flagged down by a couple on a trimaran wanting to know about the “hike.” It turns out they had driven out from Montreal to buy their boat in Comox and were taking a few days to explore Desolation before they trucked it back to Quebec to cruise the east coast. Apparently the current exchange rate made a west coast purchase and subsequent trucking way more affordable than buying something from the eastern States.
Wake up. Drink coffee in the morning sun. Bake muffins for lunch. Go for an afternoon motor to tour the bay. Relax in the sun. Drink some more coffee. Sigh.
The only highlight of the day was the departure of trawler boys and the early evening appearance of Swell. She’s a 60-something foot converted ocean-going tug that we had been docked near in our last few weeks in Victoria. They do excursion tours from Victoria all the way to Haida Gwaii. While it was nice to see her, the fact that she didn’t turn her engine off at all was a bit annoying and our peaceful anchorage was no more. I know, I know, first world problems…
Cooler and less sunny, yet somehow one of the warmer mornings so far with the temperature being 15° in the cabin when I crawled out of bed. I bet if we hadn’t gone back for the heater repair it would have been a solid 11° all week.
Swell was gone when I emerged from the cabin, but a commercial prawn boat was anchored across the bay and they leave the engine running all the time to keep their catch cool so you could still hear a rumble echoing across the anchorage and drowning out that early morning serenity. Still, it was a bit quieter than Swell had been and we had the seals anyway.
Coffee and leftover muffins ensued.
The batteries were down to 57% (which was a bit lower than I expected — I suspect we are playing the stereo a bit more than usual) so we got ready to raise anchor and depart. We were off by 9. The chart plotter is almost completely useless now, but I have gotten a confirmation that the new one has cleared customs so it should be there by the time we get back. There are a series of shallow spots and drying rocks at the entrance to Tendedos that I normally would have woven my way through, but this time I opted to just go around — better safe than sorry, eh…
An hour and half later we tied up at the public wharf at Squirrel Cove (in a spot that was vacated mere moments before we arrived). We wandered up to the store in search of skim milk for someone’s morning tea —supplies were getting critically low and bit suspect. We had checked at Lund and now at Squirrel Cove and there has been absolutely no sign of skim milk. 2%, homo, half-and-half there was plenty of but absolutely no skim or even 1%. We have concluded that Central BCers either hate skim milk with an all consuming passion and thus the stores don’t dare carry it or they absolutely love the stuff and the stores can’t keep it in stock. The truth remains a mystery.
Then we headed north. We fired up the inverter to charge the laptops and as soon as the water was hot I had a nice shower and shave and broke out some clean clothes. Life is good. The weather had been nice enough that we have managed a couple of solar showers over the previous week, but the forecast has the wind turning southerly which usually brings cooler temperatures and rain so the likelihood of another water-warming day is pretty low. Take the showers when you can get them.
No whales in The channel this trip. We’ve been lucky there several times before. As we passed the cove midway down Von Donop we noticed it was a) empty and b) very calm. We turned hard a-port and wandered in to check it out. The depths were 11-12 feet (below our 5-foot keel) with the tide predicted to drop another 6 feet. After some maundering and negotiating (I was voting for our usual anchor at the end of the inlet) it was decided to give it a try. And wouldn’t you know it, the anchor was being fussy, and for one of a few very rare instances kept dragging rather than setting right away. That’ll teach us to try something new. But after a few tries we got it stuck in and both of us satisfied that we wouldn’t move. So here we are, for a few nights at least.
There is zero cell signal and the batteries only managed to get up to 82%, so I think two nights will be our max and we will head off to Herriot Bay or Taku a day early for laundry and the opportunity to visit a fully-stocked grocery store. At this point I doubt we will make the long sail south to Comox to meet up with my brother, so it will be only a short hop across to Gorge on Friday.
It been a good week. We’ve had plenty of good weather (although that is predicted to end tomorrow) and some beautiful scenery to enjoy. We’ve also added a few creatures to our ever growing list of west coast wildlife which is always good.
We’ve got a few days until the flotilla to kick back and then it will be go, go, go for a week.
And we are off. We had planned on heading to the coast on the 25th but unfortunate circumstances meant we had to cancel our flights last minute (Ouch!—but it’s only money right?). A couple of extra days and we got everything fixed up and took off on the 29th.
The plan was to cruise Desolation for a few weeks and meet up with the Calgary Yacht Club’s annual flotilla. My brother had joined them last year aboard his friend’s Kelly Peterson 44 which apparently had enough room for him and his wheelchair—something our Hunter just can’t manage. The flotilla was heading north from Comox, up to Blind Channel and then circling back by way of Toba Inlet. It looks to be a pretty busy agenda, so hopefully we will get our relaxing in first. And I imagine they will all be keen to actually sail.
We left Edmonton around 9 am, abjuring our usual seaplane flight from Vancouver to Nanaimo in favour of a flight into Nanaimo’s airport because that got us on the boat about 4 hours earlier. Ian from Nanaimo Yacht Charters picked us up at the airport and we had a nice visit on the drive in.
I’d forgotten our keys (among other things) and so I grabbed NYCSS’s set from Beth and we started hauling our gear on board. A few hour later we were mostly moved in and took a break to lunch with L’s parents who had driven in to meet us. Then we finished unpacking and headed off to the grocery store to provision. Eventually everything was done and we kicked back to try and relax after a long day.
Speaking of forgetting things. So far, because I got cocky and didn’t consult my pre-departure provisioning lists, I have realized I didn’t bring: a long sleeved button down (useful for cool evenings), my good kitchen knife, my gorilla pod for the go-pro knockoff, the aforementioned boat keys, my radio license renewal and enough long sleeved t-shirts. That’ll teach me. Or not.
We woke up to 10°C — a cold start to the day. We had intended to be off dock early but you know, one thing or another… Eventually we did cast off and headed across the Strait for the Sunshine Coast and the start of this year’s adventure.
We discovered right away the bearings on the wind transducer were shot. In what was obviously ~15 knots of wind, the wind instrument was reading from -1 knots up to a peak of 3 knots. I found later this was probably due to a big storm early in the year which had abused a few of the boats in the fleet. As per usual, after a year of being off the boat, we were a little off balance and since we opted to head straight out rather than have our normal couple of days at anchor in Nanaimo to settle in, we were a bit jangling. So the lack of accurate info about the wind and an initially bouncy ride led us to decided to motor sail rather than sail. I know, I know… we’re so weak-willed. What can I say…
I also discovered that the issues we had been having with the chart plotter last year were worse. I had assumed last year it was a battery/power issue which we had dealt with at the end of our cruise; but the screen was still dimming as time went on and the faint odour of ozone could be smelled. It got so bad that by the point we were ready to transit the narrow, rocky entrance to Smuggler Cove I couldn’t see the screen in the sunlight and decided to fire up Navionics on my phone to double-check our position.
But we made it in safely, dropped anchor and took out a stern line to the fancy new chains that had been installed. L took the line out in a change of our usual procedure. Seems she was tired of me yelling instructions from shore on how to maneuver the boat. So she had to put up with me yelling instructions from the boat on how to run the stern line. Some people just can’t win…
After dinner we discovered a horrible fact that almost ruined the whole trip. There was no kitchen drain plug! We searched high and low but to no avail. Horror! We quickly started researching places to head off to in order to find a replacement. In the meantime I McGyvered a temporary fix out of Press-and-Seal and a side plate. Disaster averted and dishes were duly done.
We were treated to about 3 hours of helicopters repeatedly coming by and dipping their buckets in the south cove. The fire couldn’t have been too far away as they were back every 4 minutes or so. Exciting stuff.
We awoke to 11°C and moored in the shade of a cliff which meant there was no hope of warming sunshine for at least 3 hours. Since 13° is our cut off for firing up the heater, I decided to fire up the heater. What I got was a horrible noise. Long time followers of this blog will note that my relationship with our Webasto Hydronic heater is not the best. In fact I would estimate that at least 50% of the time that I have gone to fire up the bloody thing it has failed to satisfy my need for heat. It again did not fail to disappoint me.
As soon as I flicked the breaker a horrible noise came from the aft locker. I glanced over at the thermostat control and noted it was already on (this is not good in my experience as it means it wasn’t shut down properly). I shut it all down after a few minutes and tried again. After my third try the thermostat control now started giving me an error message in the form of a series of indecipherable coloured blinks. And that was that. I wasn’t going to go through another whole cruise with no heater—it was now a matter of principle. Besides, we need a new drain plug.
I called Ian, let him know we were headed back and asked him to have a technician on standby. He thought it might be the bearings in the pump and cautioned that a replacement might be several days away. But I stuck to my guns and said were gonna get it fixed. I can get stubborn about the oddest things.
It was glass calm as we motored back across. That will serve me right for not sailing when I had the chance. I also noticed on the way back that the stitching on the Sunbrella edging of the jib had frayed and was now flapping a bit. That was a bit of a problem because given a little bit of wind, it was sure to get a lot worse.
Back at NYCSS, it became apparent that the issue was the recirc pump. Unbeknownst to me (I have been mystified by the setup of that bloody Webasto from day one and no one has been able to explain it to me) our install had an external pump—which is apparently just your typical freshwater pressure pump—plumbed in to pressure up the system. This pump turns on as soon as the breaker is turned on, before the Webasto’s internal pressure pump is actually fired up. Apparently the logic is that because the Webasto Diesel system is originally designed for trucks, there might not be enough oomph in the built-in pump to deal with the elevation changes and length of runs. An external pump ensures that airlocks are less of an issue.
So we swapped out the pump (which was still working and “probably” would have lasted the whole trip) but unfortunately the new pump had manufacturing defect and we had to put in a cheaper one. This means I can now hear the recirc pump running, but since the whole system generally sounds like an airliner running up its turbines, I figured it wasn’t much of a big deal. And the error code had reset itself. We successfully fired up the heater several times. Success! Of course in the week or so since we had it fixed the mornings have all been pretty good and I have yet to have had occasion to actually use the stupid thing. Sigh.
After a quick consult, we decided to haul down the jib. A & M canvas is just up the hill and theY agreed to do a quick sew job; we had it back in just a couple of hours. In the process we did notice that the foil that the jib slides into was loose and then had to find a couple of new set screws to get that taken care of.
I also decided that the chart plotter was unacceptable as it was. We will be okay because I had both my phone and my iPad to use and frankly I prefer using paper charts except for very narrow entrances and exits. We talked it over and decided that anything newer risked having to replace a lot of other instruments that talked to the chart plotter and that it could quickly run to almost $10,000 if we got carried away. I found several refurbished Raymarine e80’s on line and decided that for several hundred dollars it was worth it. So I bought one and it should be waiting when we finally get back. Hopefully it will be an easy swap.
All in all it was a busy and expensive day. Oh, and Beth found us a replacement plug…but it wasn’t as good as the original constarn it… We cast off and a few minutes later dropped anchor in Mark Bay around 5 pm. Then we dinghy’d over to the Dinghy Dock Pub for dinner and some cider.
These will get shorter, I promise. In any case we awoke, phoned the municipal dock to see if we could tie up for an hour instead of having to lower the outboard off and on. They said yes and we headed in. At first we were supposed to raft onto some crabbing boats but they were already getting pretty dense, so the harbour guys had us tie up in an empty slip normally occupied by the Spill Response boat.
I screwed up that dock. I wanted to reverse in but the wind kept catching the bow and swinging me out. As usual I got stubborn before I got smart and at one point even touched my anchor to the rail on one of the aluminum boats. Eventually I smartened up and just went in bow first. Easy-peasy. We dropped off some mail, bought some batteries and found another replacement drain plug (which still wasn’t as good as the original) and cast off again.
The winds were lighter but we managed to sail for for 40 minutes or soon until they died and we were left only making 2 knots of boat speed. Really starting to regret not sailing that first day…
A few hours later it was windy stern tie in Smuggler and there a lot of shenanigans until I was satisfied. It’s not as quiet as it was two years ago at this time of year. We shared the anchorage with 3 boats the first night (with two more in the back cove) and there was never less than 2 the entire time we were there.
The next morning Leslie wrote a proposal for a conference that she had left to the last moment. Around noon we managed to scrabble together enough internet signal to send it off. I on the other hand, discovered the shelf life of FSR is about 4 years. My wondrous blue rust-eating jelly was now a watery pink. So much for me spending some time working on the inevitable creep of rust stains.
So I let L row me around the anchorage. Eventually we tied up to the north shore and went for a hike out to the point—something we’d never done. Dinner was the first pizza of the year!
Another lazy morning followed by a longer hike that pretty much covered all the available trails. Lots of tourists and local availing themselves of the sunny day and beautiful scenery.
I wanted to get north, so we headed out with the intention of making Sturt Bay or maybe even Lund. One of my objectives is to try an meet up with S/V Violet Hour. Violet Hour is a C&C 38—if memory serves me—that Patrick and his partner (whose name completely escapes me at the moment) bought right around the time I was researching our own purchase. Them, Matt (on Gudgeon—who we finally met up with last year in Von Donop) and us make up a trio of sailors who all bought boats and started blogs right about the same time. The three journeys make an interesting compare and contrast for anyone contemplating life on the water in the PNW.
They were a couple of days ahead of us heading north at the time of our first abortive attempt to cast off and now were already exploring Desolation. As their intent was to head further north I wasn’t sure if they would still be around when we eventually arrived in Desolation.
The forecast called for 10–15 knots from the N and as usual the Malaspina was uninviting. We could have sailed but once again wimped out and decided a straight line was more efficient than spending the day tacking back and forth. Just outside Pender Harbour I spotted a dorsal fin and we were treated to a pod of 8 or so orca about 300 feet off the port side. We killed the engine and drifted alongside for 15 minutes or so as they headed south.
In the end it turned out that banging into the waves was not to our taste and we aborted our northward journey and decided to duck into Blind Bay. We had been to the Hardy Island anchorage there before; Dave (R Shack Island) had meant to take us to Ballet Bay on the south side one day but we’d never made it. So we decided to give it a try on our own. We arrived a low, low water and anchored in 20 ft surrounded by rocks. Six hours later the rocks had completely disappeared and suddenly all the warning in the guide books about approaching with caution made a lot more sense.
I am still refining my anchoring distance sense — we settled in slightly off centre in the small bay and I would have sworn there was barely enough room for us. An hour or so later another boat came in and dropped anchor a comfortable distance off our bow. Later when we went for a row we realized there was probably enough room for a couple more boats as well. So much for getting better at judging distance…
The winds were gone again. So we motored out of the bay and headed north up a much calmer Malaspina Strait. A bit later we spotted a sailboat on the AIS gaining on us. Eventually it turned out to be a Hunter 38 (pretty much the same boat as us but a few years newer). We had been running at close to 2500 RPM this trip which is much higher than our normal 2200 “Dave speed.” But these guys were beating us by almost half a knot in what was pretty much the exact same hull. L wouldn’t let me speed up. She’s mean.
We followed the other Hunter into Lund about 20 minutes behind. I tried to stern into the fuel dock and lost my bow to the wind. Again. That’s three times already. You think I’d learn. Anyway we backed out and came in on the other side after the the other boat had finished refuelling and cast off. Much easier. Then we picked up some more cider, topped up the water and took off again.
By this time I was just looking to find someplace to settle into for a few days. Violet Hour was supposedly heading for Cortes Bay but that didn’t appeal. Apparently according to our spiffy new 20919 Waggoners there were a bunch of new chains in the Copeland Islands and that was barely 2nm out from Lund. So we decided to give them a try.
The wind had picked up out of the northwest and our chosen anchorage looked a bit choppy so we bailed and went back to our cozy nook in the south islands for 2 years earlier. The entrance is a bit nerve-wracking but it was low tide and at least we could see the rocks instead of guesstimating where they were. We passed over one section where there was less than 2 feet under the keel but then passed into deeper (8 feet under the keel) water. Since we were about 3 feet above low tide we figured we were good for a few days.
As soon as we settled were greeted by the local seal. Later dinner was interrupted by a trio of noisy otters transiting the cove with their own victuals and we watched a bald eagle catch and consume a fish just off our stern. Idyllic. Leslie went for a row.
L spent the morning working (she is delivering a paper at the Learneds June 3 in YVR and still hasn’t finished her paper). I relaxed and thought about cleaning rust. Then we lowered the outboard and went for a cruise around the various islands in the group. The strait was dead calm so we crossed over to Major Islet and killed the engine just to the west of where the sea lions were gathered. We slowly drifted past these loud pinnipeds, managing to not disconcert them too much (although they did object to us when we attempted to row a bit further out…loudly). We also spotted some seal pups sunning themselves on the shore. Seriously cute.
We finished the day up with some shore exploration by drifting along the rocks: tons of starfish, sea cucumbers, anemones and all sorts of unidentified sea creatures—guide books are not as helpful as one would suppose. A quick hike next to watch the waves off the west side of the island and it was back on board for dinner and some episodes of Episodes.
That pretty much wraps up our first week aboard. A bit more hectic than we could wish for but an improvement on the rush of try to head to the Broughtons that we went through last year. We have about 10 days before we meet up with the flotilla boats—either in Comox or a day later in Gorge. We haven’t decided yet. Everything in Desolation is pretty close to everything else so hopefully we can get in some sails without worrying about schedules.
I’d also like to find a chandlery and buy some cleaning supplies. The canvas could use a good scrub and the stainless needs some work. But our options are limited and I’m not that committed to it yet.
