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

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

Major Concerns

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

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

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

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

Storage is always at a premium onboard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lagoon Cove

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

Costs

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

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

Perks

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Next Few Days (August 6–17)

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

Winding Down? (August 19–23)

Enjoy!

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

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

Lagoon Cove, West Cracroft

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

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

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

A Few Challenges

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

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

A String of Rapids

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

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

What You Need to Understand Is…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Make Your Choice

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

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

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

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

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

Approaching Dent Rapids at slack.

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

Big Bad Johnstone Strait

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

Johnstone Strait on a good day.

So What I am Saying Is…

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

As Nike is wont to say, just do it.

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

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

Marine Wind and Weather Warnings

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

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

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

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

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

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

Our Sailboat

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

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

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

20 Knots: Need a Reef

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

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

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

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

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

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

If There Are Two Boats Then It’s a Race

Never for Ever under motor

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

Never for Ever just starting to heel

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

The race is on

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

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

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

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

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

This is us taken from R Shack Island

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

Stowage Leasons Learneds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  

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

A Start

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

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

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

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

Stowage & Supplies

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

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

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

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

More Bills

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

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

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

Granville Island & Fireworks

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

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

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

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

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

Nanaimo Harbour and Newcastle Island

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

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

Propane Tanks, Parents, and Special Hexes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Last Day

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

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

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

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

Stay tuned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Our 2-week circumnavigation of Vancouver Island on Tim Melville’s Baltic 42 may have been a tad disappointing due to a total lack of wind. but we did learn a ton of stuff that should help us in our own adventure. Some of it is pretty obvious and some is just knowledge we already had but needed to actually experience.

Stowage

6 people on a boat for 2 weeks with no shore leave and no real stops changes how you approach galleys and storage. We tend to maintain an impeccable galley with everything stowed out of sight and away. But Donna didn’t have that privilege with so many supplies. Instead laundry baskets and containers were often left out but wedged in tightly to prevent movement. Every nook and cranny in Baltic had something in it and was arranged for maximum efficiency. This is definitely something we are going to have to work at.

Preventers

I’ve read a lot about preventers, but never had the opportunity to rig one. It was actually pretty simple. A preventer is simply a method of preventing the boom from swinging (crashing really) back towards the boat when it has been let out. Many of the systems I had read about were complex and involved running lines forward through blocks and back to the cockpit. But on the Northern Passage it was a simple as tying off a line from the end of the boom to the toerail. The downside with this simplified system is you had to go out on deck to tack or drop the sails. But given the light winds (when there was wind) it wasn’t an issue.

Spinnakers

We got the spinnaker up  on one of the days. It was a full symmetrical and a real beauty. But it was a pain to get up, a pain to sail with and a pain to get down. I can see how an asymmetrical or even a gennaker would be a much better investment.

The issue is that with a loose foot, you need to pole it out and the pole, baby stay and forestay all had to play nice.  Then it became extremely important to maintain a course relative to the wind so it wouldn’t collapse; which meant that your actual heading was less important than where the wind shifted to.. On top of that, it’s a huge sail and managing it with less than the 4 we had would have taken a lot of practice and technique. But it was fun while it lasted.

Wing on wing

So instead of the spinnaker, we generally ran wing-on-wing downwind. So much easier when you have a preventer rigged and the winds are holding steady. Those two little things made the whole exercise a whole lot more comfortable than the awkward attempts we have previously made.

Close hauled vs beam reach

They say a  broad reach (running 90° to the wind) is the fastest point of sail. But close hauled (running about 30° to the wind—as close as you can get) always seems a lot faster. That’s because you are generally heeled over and the waves are screaming by 6 inches from your ass. What they also say and I never quite internalized is that not only is beam reach (or better yet a broad reach) faster, it is also way more comfortable. It really is. We would be sailing along on a broad reach with a following sea and it felt like we were standing still. But we were actually zooming along at over 6 knots.

But that also makes it more dangerous as you can be way over-canvassed without necessarily realizing it, as the effects of the wind are much less noticeable.

Crab traps

I’ve always disliked crab traps. The ones cluttering up the ocean, not the idea of crab traps themselves, but now I have a positive hate on for them. During the trip we had tons of close calls, especially at night but it was when I ran over one that had a tiny, dirt-encrusted float and wrapped it around the rudder that I got mad. This was a commercial trap—which are huge—and the weight of it brought our boat to a standstill. Luckily it was only around the rudder and we were able to cut it free. But with a bit more bad luck it could have wrapped itself around the propellor shaft and that might of meant having to dive to cut it free.

I am now a huge fan of introducing some legislation making them use big orange floats. Stupid crab traps.

Steamed oysters

And finally steamed oysters. I have learned to really enjoy raw oysters since our first foray two years ago, but every time I have tried them cooked it has left a bad taste in my mouth — literally. But when Tim et al. collected a bunch in the Broken Group we popped them on the BBQ and steam cooked them. A bit of garlic butter and they were scumpdillyicious!

~~~

Hopefully there tons more things for us to learn. But for now, we are just a few days from casting off and the waiting is killing us.

 

Finally in possession of our boat, we had a date on Thetis Island to attend the 2015 Hunter Rendezvous at Telegraph Cove. This 4 day event is hosted by the broker we bought our boat from, Specialty Yachts. For those of you not “in the know,” a rendezvous is a bit like a car meet where owners of certain brands of boats gather to hang out in one place. This affords everyone an opportunity to snoop on one another’s boats, learn new things and generally make the acquaintance of like-minded people.

This year’s Hunter Rendezvous consisted of 85 boats and well over 200 people. The boats ranged from some smaller ones in the high 20-foot range to a few 50’s. There were a few brand new boats to tour and the oldest I saw was from the mid-80s. Suffice it to say there were a lot of boats and we got to wander through a few.

Back at the Beginning

We cast off at Poet’s Cove after filling the fuel tank and headed north. The plan was to grab some supplies at Chemainus and then scoot over to Thetis Island a day early to avoid the potential embarrassment of having to dock a new-to-me boat in front of a crowd.

The wind had shifted (of course) and we were still going pretty much straight into it. So we motored along and played with as much of the boat’s features as possible. This meant mostly running out the foresail and main every time the wind shifted and zooming in and out the chart plotter.

Eventually we turned westerly between Kuper Island and the northern tip of Saltspring and managed to sail for 5 whole minutes. Then we called ahead to Harmon, who is the wharfinger at Chemainus to see if he had room for an hour or so. He said he could probably fit us in but was expecting a big 60-footer so we might be pressed for time.

In the end we tied up on the outside by the ferry and trooped up the hill to 49th Parallel grocery. Unfortunately it seems that since we were here two years ago they had built another location more in the center of town and the remnants were more like a bad cross between a 7-11 and a Home Hardware. Pickings were slim and we were mindful of Harmon’s time frame so did the best we could and headed back to the dock.

We stopped to chat about the sad state of grocery affairs with Harmon on the way down the finger. He was actually a bit worried. Chemainus is a popular stop for resupply with boats being able to stop for 20 minutes or so and grab groceries. Now they were going to have to go into town and that 20 minutes was likely to stretch to an hour or more. He didn’t think he could reasonably let people tie up for that long.

But since his big yacht was still MIA he let us dump our groceries and head back into town for some beer and wine. In case you haven’t figured it out, Harmon is a great guy.

Hunter Rendezvous 2015

A short motor across Stuart Channel and we were backing into a berth at the nearly empty Telegraph Harbour Marina. Being early snagged us a coveted stern-in spot on the main dock. It also meant we were there for the duration because by the time the weekend was i full swing there were boats crammed in like sardines. And as a bonus we got some Hunter flags to run up our topping lift for the duration.

Then it was chore time. I unshipped the dinghy and filled her up with air. There is a slow leak somewhere, but a half an hour with soapy water failed to reveal its location. We also dismantled the BBQ and started scraping and degreasing. It had been put away last fall without a cleaning and was mouldy and disgusting. We made a mess and ruined a couple of washclothes and sponges, but finally it was spic and span.

Next up was a start on removing the lettering from the boat. I still harboured hopes of renaming her on this trip, but first the old name had to go. I started on the transom and the city name came off pretty easily, so I optimistically moved on to the name on the stern.

Removing vinyl

Before leaving Edmonton I had done some research. Seems the easiest way to remove vinyl is with heat. But since I knew I wouldn’t have access to a heat gun or even a blow dryer I needed another solution. What I came up with was this: Vinyl-Off. This was a spray-on product that supposedly penetrates the vinyl and the glue and allows you to peel off the letters easily. Well it worked pretty good on the transom’s city name but when I tried it on the boat name it didn’t work as well. And when moved next to the side of the boat things got harder. I don’t know if this was older vinyl or perhaps the location had made it more vulnerable to the harsh elements but the going suddenly got bad. The vinyl came off in bits and the glue remained stuck to the gelcoat.

I also got frustrated and started using more of the Vinyl-Off (specifically advised against by the instructions) and the vinyl itself started to dissolve leaving a blue smear across the gelcoat. I don’t think it helped that I was also working in the shade (but given the temperature was approaching the high 20s, I wasn’t about to try working in the sun).

Eventually Barry from the Hunter 376 (I totally have forgotten the name of his boat) directly in front of me took pity on me and lent me his “plastic” razors, a cool scraping tool that allowed me to go to town on both the vinyl and the glue residue without marring the surface. The job took a couple of hours of lying on my side on the dock, but eventually I was done and you could see only the faintest ghosting from the sun. Good enough.

Sadly by this time, another 376 had tied up to our starboard side and I couldn’t access the lettering on that side. So that put paid to that job, which was a good thing because I really needed a beer. So no renaming this weekend.

The Weekend

It was a great weekend and I am glad we went. The social aspects were largely informal and low-pressure: a few happy hours, dinners and some music and dancing on two evenings. But it was all out in the open and everyone was free to wander and enjoy as it suited them. The off times consisted of lots of walking the docks and everyone was super friendly. Expect I guess given the nature of the event. All you had to do was ask one question and likely you would be invited aboard for a tour. Leslie and I failed at this on our own boat, but we really weren’t prepared for visitors and were still getting into the swing of the event. Next year.

There were also seminars. I attended one on Green Boating which discussed the impact of boaters on the environment and how to minimize damage to sensitive habitats. Cleaners can be nasty stuff. There was also great one on a roller furling Gennaker system and another on tuning your rig. Not things I am about to use but good to  have a basic introduction to.

I made Leslie attend the one on diesel engines. I figured since neither of us knew anything about it two brains would learn twice as much. Well, we still don’t know much, but it was good to listen others and to learn about to potential issues and basic gotchas. Ben Cook from Stem to Stern gave the talk and I tried to book some time with him afterwards but he had to leave much too soon for him to make it around to everyone who wanted his attention.

I also made Leslie attend the one on Espar heaters. We have a Webasto, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. Again, it was a lot of information, but I think we gleaned a few  tidbits about the care and feeding of our heating system.

  

The Race

Other than that, there were a few social type events. We skipped the scavenger hunt and the  pajama yoga. It was so hot I don’t think I would have survived the hunt and the young ones were chewing up the event with their youthful lack of oldness. But since we had come all the way and didn’t want to be too stick-in-the-mud, I figured we should try the blindfolded dinghy race. I took Laughing Baby (to be) out to give her a spin and see how she handled. She tracked well, the oars were in a good position and I figured since I could row a fairly straight course with my eyes closed, we might have a chance. Couple that with the fact we were below the average age  by a big margin and I decided we had an opportunity to make C proud and “win & crush.”

Anyway the appointed hour arrived and Leslie and I settled in dockside. The temperature was high and there was a strong crosswind so the competition was pretty small. I think there were only 6 or 7 boats in total. The biggest competition was going to be the young kids, but they had a pretty small (thus slow) dinghy, and the older couple in the lovely rowing skiff which you knew was going to go like hell. The race was straight out, around a moored trawler and then straight back, but as I said there was a strong crosswind we would have to compensate for. Lawrence counted us down through his megaphone and we were off and rowing to the cheers of the crowd.

In very little time Leslie was signalling me to start my turn (we had worked out a system where she would tap my knee rather than yelling right or left—I don’t actually know my left from my right). Then all of the sudden she was warning me about another boat and for a few minutes we were tangled up with oars banging and hulls scraping. An interesting experience when you are blindfolded. Then just as suddenly we were free and making the last turn back to the dock.

It seems the skiff had taken off like a shot and left us all in the metaphorical dust. But as they rounded the boat and were hidden from view, they had broken and oar and stalled. We ran straight into them. But after we freed ourselves from the tangle they were stranded and helpless and we were in the lead. We simply had to avoid the anchor rodes and docking lines as we rowed upwind and moments later we bumped into the dock in first place.

The comic relief came when, as I was sitting on my wooden seat with my blindfold still on and breathing heavily, the seat suddenly broke and I landed on my ass on the floor of the dinghy. Laughing, I rolled onto my back and lay there giggling to myself. But, while it was funny to me (and I assume Leslie) all the people on the dock saw was a man who had over-exerted himself in the heat, fall back, hit his head and then not get up. A bit of reassurance was necessary.

Finale

The final evening had another delicious meal (a pig and beef BBQ roast) and some prizes. Leslie and I won a 5 gallon bucket loaded with boat care products for our triumph in the dinghy race. Bilge cleaner, boat wax, fibreglass cleaner, vinyl protector, sponges and more… all things we needed. Great prize for us. I have a feeling it was cherry-picked.

Afterwards there was a general draw. Apparently there were enough prizes for everyone. Up for grabs were such great prizes like Sea-B-Qs, hand held VHFs, and we scored a folding seat. These things are worth around a hundred bucks and I had just been coveting one earlier int eh weekend. Awesome.

It was a great trip and we met some great people. I tried to keep track of everyone as best I could but I am so bad with names. I jotted down as many as I could as I learned them; here isa sampling some of the people (and boats) we met and spent some time chatting to:

Geoff (from Wales) Welsh Dragon Hunter 320
John Laing Spiritus II  Legend 40
Dave and Brett Capricorn Hunter 36
Ian and Linda Passion Hunter 356
Carson & Janet Island Dreamer I Passage 43
Rick and Karine (with a French accent) Lotus Hunter 40
Barry & Kathy Funk  (I forgot to write down the boat name…sigh) Hunter 376

The only other thing of note occurred when we met Dave and Brett from Capricorn; they had mentioned that they had initially wanted to look at Rainbow Hunter when it was up for sale. Lawrence had mentioned the first time talked that he had potential buyers “flying in from Ontario” to see the boat. Well it turns out that it was Dave and Brett he had been talking about. Since we snagged Rainbow Hunter right away, they eventually settled on a slightly smaller boat and were now also experiencing their maiden voyages.

Casting off

Sunday morning came around and the docks started emptying in a mass exodus of Hunters. I fired up the diesel with the intention of hitting the gas dock before we left. But when I checked it was occupied and it looked like the big Carver power boat was queued up next. So I headed back to the boat to cast off.

When I got back Lawrence was there and warned me against leaving the boat in idle at such a debris-filled berth. He said that with so much crap in the water it was more likely that something could get sucked into the raw water intake and cause a blockage. His advice was to back it up against the dock and leave it in reverse. That way the prop wash would keep the debris clear. I don’t know if this was prophetic or not but…

As we exited the harbour I started revving up the diesel. All the material that had been left in the boat, indeed even a small label over the tachometer, said not to exceed 2400 rpms. At this point we hadn’t. But I believed, based on my limited reading, that this was too low for a cruising speed. And one of the questions posed to Ben at the diesel seminar had elicited the response that you should run your diesel full-out for a limited period every once in a while, especially if you generally ran it at lower speeds. Cruising speed should then be noted at around 80% of full rpm.

So I ran the engine full out to around 3500 rpm and we started motoring along at a good clip. Right off the bat a puff of blackish smoke came from the exhaust as we blew out some of the carbon accumulation. But, after less than 5 minutes passed, alarms started shrieking. It took me a few seconds, but I finally realized it was the idiot lights on the binnacle (I hate idiot lights), and a few more seconds to equate the alarm with revs and with overheating. I shut down the engine. There was a bit of a breeze, so we hastily unfurled the jib and set a course out into the channel. Then I went down and checked the raw water intake. It seemed like water was coming in and I cleaned the scum from the filter but there were no major obstructions apparent. I fired up the engine again but the alarm was still going. I did note that water was indeed coming from the exhaust though so the intake couldn’t be completely blocked. I shut it down again and called Lawrence’s cell and left a brief message detailing the events. In the worse case scenario there was tons of help just around the corner.

As it turns out we sailed on the jib for about 15 minutes and then tried the diesel again. All good. No alarm and no obvious issues. I called Lawrence and left another message. Then we altered course towards our destination and waited. Another 15 minutes passed and the engine ran fine at 2800 rpm, so since the wind was up, we shut the engine down and raised some sails. It was a great beam reach and we sailed all the way to Ruxton Passage by Decourcey Island. We hit close to 6.5 knots at one point. Our first big sail. W00t!

Pirates Cove & Degnen Bay

We stern tied at Pirates Cove for the night. There was a cross breeze so it took some wrestling to get the boat stern in but we managed.  Then rowed ashore and hiked a bit in the park there. We also chatted with a few fellow boaters (one couple had also just left the Rendezvous) and enjoyed a nice rain, which was great after the last few days oppressive heat. I like the full enclosure. It makes the cockpit a nice place to hang.

The next morning we called Tim Melville on Gabriola and invited ourselves over. Exiting the cove we tried to sail but the wind just wasn’t there for us and we gave up after about 20 minutes of doing 2 knots. Twenty minutes later we hit Degnen Bay and swung around and  there was Tim to help us raft up to Northern Passage on his docks.

He got a tour of the boat and we chatted about a few of the systems. He even helped me tighten up our stuffing box which was leaking a bit too much. (The stuffing box is the place where the propellor shaft exits the boat. It is meant to leak a little bit to help with lubrication but ours was leaking a bit too much.) Afterwards he headed back up to the house to do some chores and we followed to say hi to Donna. Greetings done and an invitation to dinner extended and accepted, we headed back to the boat to relax for the rest of the day.

I wanted to try the outboard since we hadn’t had an opportunity at Telegraph Harbour so we dropped it down onto the boat using the handy motor hoist and fired it up. Ran great. Leslie and I grabbed our life jackets and went for a tour of the bay.

The 8-horse gets the dinghy up on a plane pretty quickly and top speed it is a bit faster than I am likely to be comfortable with, so it looks like we have a winning combination. Now all we need to do is officially christen her and we are set.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon in the dinghy with my feet dangling in the cool water stripping the vinyl off the starboard side. A couple of hours effort and I finally mastered the technique on the third or fourth last letter. Isn’t that always the way. But I am set if I ever have to do it again.

Dinner was great. A cold Corona and some homemade wine with a spectacular view of the bay. And great company. A nice way to end out trip to the Gulf Islands. Tomorrow we were off through Gabriola Passage on a 9:30 slack and then across the Strait to Vancouver.

Home?

Next morning Tim and Donna came down to see us off and we set out on the last leg of our maiden voyage. The winds were forecast as 0-5 knots so it looked like we were going to be motoring across the Strait. And we did. 4 hours later we motored into English Bay and started manoeuvring through tankers, day sailers and boats heading out.

We were supposed to head (finally) for our berth at Mosquito Creek. We had shelled out over $2000 for the privilege of using it and to this point the boat had never actually occupied its slot. But when I called Lawrence to tell him we were heading there he instead directed me to come back to Granville Island and  said he would give us a few days free moorage and move the boat himself later. Turns out he had to rush off to an Xray and couldn’t make it to Mosquito Creek to show us our berth.

So we fuelled up under Granville Bridge and headed for Specialty’s docks. We tied up alongside a new Hunter 36 and that was that. Sarah the service manger came down to finish a talk we had begun back at the Rendezvous and she agreed to check the batteries, wind indicator and AIS system while the boat was still at Granville. And to look into the overheat.

That night we tried out the BBQ on some jumbo dogs and it worked pretty damn good. Then it was packing up and hitting the sack as we had to be at the airport pretty early.

Conclusions

Well all-in-all it was a pretty damn good shakedown cruise. We discovered a few deficiencies, learned a few habits of the boat (although there was never enough sailing time) and had a great time at the Rendezvous. We would do it again if the opportunity arose. But now it is back to Edmonton and work for a few more weeks before the real adventure begins.

The keystone to our plan for 2015-16 was the idea that we could overwinter in Victoria.  If we could find a comfortable place to stay when the weather turned cool, well then who needs the tropic eh? The winter climate in Victoria is supposed to be the best on the West Coast, it’s a small, walking city, Leslie and I have a fond history with the city and it has a university with all the academic accoutrements so Leslie can get some work done. So I set out to find what the liveaboard options for Victoria were.

And of course, the Inner Harbour is right downtown.

There are two main options. Both the GVHA (Greater Victoria Harbour Association) and The Coast Victoria Harbourside Hotel & Marina offer packages with their off-season moorages. There are a few more liveaboard options like West Bay on the other side of the harbour or a few up in Sydney but they are farther away and don’t offer any particular off-season packages.

The Coast Victoria Harbourside Hotel & Marina

The Coast has a fairly small marina just west of Laurel Point. They offer 7-month package from October 1st to April 30th at $13.45/foot. So at 39′, Never for Ever would cost $524.55/month or a total of $3671.85. This includes power and the hotel amenities like shower, pool and exercise room. It’s a bit of a walk downtown, but they offer a shuttle and still well within walking distance. But we would have to be gone by the end of April.

Contacting them was a bit of an issue since there is not clear contact info on the website and I ended having to go through central booking. But eventually I got in contact with Josh who is their marina manager. When I contacted him back in March there was already a waiting list so I signed up right away, before we had even settled on a boat. This marina was my preferred choice but the waiting list makes me nervous.

We stopped in to see him when we were there in late May but he seems to only work from 3pm onward so I have only had a few brief email exchanges..

Josh Ramsdale
j.ramsdale@coasthotels.com
or call the front desk 250-360-1211
Website

GVHA

The Great Victoria Inner Harbour Association has 4 main marinas. FIsherman’s Wharf is just west of the Coast and offers berths for commercial fisherman and year-round liveaboards. The Causeway is directly in front of the Empress Hotel, Ship Point is the long straight dock just north and is mostly reserved for bigger boats like luxury yachts and Wharf Street which is a bit more north again, just after the seaplane base. The last three all have low-season options.

Causeway and the Empress

Causeway from the street

GVHA offers a Low Season Moorage 8-month package from October 1 to June 20th. 30’–44′ boats are charged at $8.45/foot which is $329.55 /month. Power is extra (30amps is $70/month) and there is a $104/month liveaboard fee for a total of $503.55/month and $4044.40 for the whole 8 months.

There are showers right near Wharf Street with washers and driers and you are literally right downtown. Wharf Street would be our preference of GVHA’s offerings with proximity to everything, a locked gate and away from the tourist bustle of the Causeway. The only downside is the seaplanes if that sort of noise bothers you (it doesn’t bother me). They also offer a free pumpout service — a small boat that comes around once a week and pumps out your holding tanks.

The GVHA doesn’t take new applications until the end of May. They give their current customers until mid May to renew and then start in on the new applications, so although I had contacted them originally in March, we have had to wait to apply.

Wharf Street

Taris Walter (Marina Services Administrative Assistant)
TWalter@gvha.ca
250-383-8326
www.gvha.ca

Rates in General

For comparison purposes the GVHA’s year-round rate is $12.70/foot (with all the extra fees as well) and transient moorage is $28.80/foot so the $8.45 rate is pretty good. Vancouver moorages can run upwards of $13 even without liveaboard privileges. Blaine, Washington’s annual moorage is around $7.80 foot (usd) so you can see it doesn’t cost all that much to be living in the center of everything.

Ship Point

Where are we now?

Well, we stopped in Victoria on our way home from our Circumnavigation and visited the Coast and the GVHA. The Coast still looks like a great option, but unfortunately Josh wasn’t there to talk to about the state of the waiting list. On the other hand, when we arrived at the GVHA office, Taris was right in the middle of working on the lists. I mean we could see her actually working on the dock layouts.

So we asked a few questions and then applied on the spot. At Wharf Street, there were openings on the outside of D-dock and the inside of C-dock. During our stay there a few days earlier aboard the Northwest Passage we had rafted up to a boat on the inside of C-dock and it seemed nice so we (I) picked there. We answered a bunch of questions and voila, we had a berth pending a successful application. Once our application was accepted we would be on the hook for a cancelation fee but up until then we would be free to cancel anytime. Leslie really like this spot and actually prefers it over the Coast Harbourside so cancelling now seems unlikely.

This lovely pilothouse is almost exactly where our tentative berth is.

The Process

A few days after we got back from our trip, I got an email from Taris and the GVHA:

Good Afternoon,

We are pleased to announce that there is space to accommodate you in our 2015-16 Low Season Program, pending approval of your moorage application. In order to submit a moorage application we require the following documentation:

• Proof of Ownership (Bill of Sale)
  Proof of Registration
• Proof of current insurance:
  Minimum $2 million protection & indemnity (liability)
  GVHA must be named as an additional insured OR, we require a letter of undertaking from your insurer (see below)
• Two photos of your vessel : One of side, one of stern
• Two References:
  One professional (preferably from a previous marina)
  One personal (not a family member)
  *Note: this can be a letter of reference OR contact information for your reference

Once we have received this documentation, and approved moorage, I will send you a moorage agreement, and we will process a security deposit in the amount of one month of moorage to secure your slip. Also at this time we require that GVHA be named as an additional insured OR a letter of undertaking provided from your insurer. This ensures that GVHA is notified of any policy changes or cancellation.

Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns; we look forward to having you with us next fall!

So now I am in the process of collecting the documentation and will hopefully fire it off in a short while. The only outstanding thing is the photos and I suppose I can use old ones and photoshop out the old name.

We are really excited and this confirmation is another worry lifted from our shoulders. Now we just have to actually start the trip.

We just completed a circumnavigation of Vancouver Island aboard Tim Melville’s Baltic 42. This is something he has done the last couple of years with his wife Donna as crew and cook and a select few, paying passengers/students. It’s a whirlwind trip around the island done in only two weeks. We had booked the trip well before *Never Forever* came into the picture and while I might cringe slightly at the cost now that I have a boat of my own, I learned a tremendous amount that will serve me long into the future.

You can read a day-by-day account in my blog (macblaze.ca) but I thought I would sum up the more boat-ownership type details here for posterity.

The relationship between captain and crew

I’m not really captain material. In fact Leslie has more leadership skills (kind of obvious given her experience). With just the two (or three…sigh) of us it is no big deal, but it gets important when a coordinated effort among new crew is necessary. Things like tacking and gybing can be done half-heartedly in most scenarios but docking at night or in crowded situations, keeping a lookout, reefing etc. all work better and safer if the responsibilities and relationships are clear. And that takes communication. And good communication, much to my chagrin takes a reasonable amount of leadership. You need to clearly and effectively outline goals, tasks, responsibilities and outcomes before you start, not trust that it will all come together. This is a flaw in my leadership style I have always known, but on a boat, the potential outcomes of my laissez faire, come-what-may, we’ll-deal-with-it-later style becomes a bit scary.

But I did score well on the “not getting too excited” side. While my inside voice may have said jesus-muther-f8ckin-christ more than once, I don’t think it slipped out even in my demeanour. Or maybe I am fooling myself.

Diesel engines

Diesel engines are simple. They say they need only two things: fuel and air. Having said that there seem to be a lot of ways that those two simple things can be a problem.

We ran out of fuel by accident; we had switched to the small tank and forgot to switch back. This meant the old Perkins needed to be reprimed which entailed opening valves all along the fuel system and bleeding the air out of the fuel lines. If that sounds complicated, well it was. At least on a Perkins. The key factor we learned was that once you get to the the other side of the injector pump you are in a high pressure system and you need to crank the engine to force the air out; there was simply no way to do that by hand. And if you have run your battery down by trying to start it before the injectors are bled, well, you should thank your lucky stars you are a sailboat. It didn’t get that far with us and after a lot of consultation we got the system bled and the motor restarted but still…

The spring that reset the shutoff solenoid also broke at one point. This meant when we went to start the motor the next morning it wouldn’t. Tim traced all the systems until he reached the broken spring. It hadn’t disengaged the shut off solenoid and so no fuel was reaching the engine. a manual reset, a pair of pliers and some wire bending and it was good to go. Simple, if  you can find it.

Tim had also recently replaced his 55 amp alternator with a 100 amp Balmar. It was 100 amps because that is all the single v-belt on his engine could handle. In reality, with 6 people aboard and a lot of power use  it turns out the single belt couldn’t handle it. The alternator’s regulator would demand all the power the alternator could churn out right on start up and the belt was slipping or wearing or something until it finally gave up. As a result we ended up blowing the belt. The big deal there was Tim’s spares were all for the old alternator, which with much effort he was able to make use of until we hit a town with spares.

A later phone called revealed a belt saving setting that controlled the load that the regulator demanded upon start up. Things worked better after that and we eventually switch back to the original spec belt.

Since I also want to add a 100 amp alternator, this is good stuff to know. The other solution is to change out the pulleys and use a serpentine belt that is better able to handle the load. This of course adds big $$ to the project.

Sail repair

Most boats I have sailed on came with a sail repair kit, at a minimum some sail tape but sometimes thread, awls, palms (big leather thimbles for your palm) and glue. The genoa’s leech was rubbing on something — although it simply could have been the horrible way his beginner crew were treating the poor foresail — and the stitching around the leech line had started to go midway up. We dropped the sail and performed a tape job to put it back into shape for the rest of the voyage, but Tim’s said it need the tender ministrations of a sail loft as soon as we got back.

So I guess all that’s all stuff I will need to add to the list.

Tows

R Shack Island has had an odd issue with her racor (fuel filter) for a couple of seasons and Dave has told me stories of all the times she has needed a tow back to the docks. It never really struck me how terrifying that must be until we also needed a tow after running out of fuel. Luckily we were towed to the fuel dock at Blind Channel which is out in the open. The tow boat just swung around like a ski boat and let us loose. Our speed was a bit high but there were quality people on the dock to catch the stern line and get a few wraps to bring us to a halt before we had to bail or hit something.

Not a skill I want to practice but I am beginning to believe it’s not an uncommon one amongst sailors.

Rapids & tides

Take them seriously. But not too seriously. If you are going with the tide, tidal rapids of up to 5 or 6 knots are not actually as scary as all that. Or at least some of them aren’t. Up until this trip I have been meticulous about avoiding current except the few times Tim has been with us. But now his respectfully cavalier attitude is beginning to rub off; a current isn’t always your enemy if you give it the right amount of respect.

 Check the tables, know your currents, access the risks and then enjoy the ride.

Keel depth and scope

Northwest Passage had an eight-foot keel. Eight feet plus four feet to the bowroller added twelve feet right off the top to any scope we were allowing for when anchoring. With a 5:1 scope in 20 feet of water that meant we needed 160 feet of rode out. But since a lot of the anchorages were small and the rode was all chain we often left it at 40 meters (130 feet) or less. Chain counts for a lot.

Charts vs chart plotters

It’s official: I like charts. I like north-up. And I like to know where I am. At one point Tim turned off the chart plotter for the rest of a leg and I was 100% more comfortable with the whole process. A chartplotter has too many toys and lulls you into relying solely on it. In fact I think it makes using a chart harder. I am much more comfortable relating the chart to what I see around me than trying to interpret the pixels on a small 6-inch screen. And when sailing around in a fog, tacking back and forth, using course-up gives you no sense of heading or any deviation; the chart plotter is continually spinning. At least (to me) north-up relates to the psuedo-reality of the familar map/chart system.

No one else on the trip agreed with me, although Tim was a big advocate of using the charts for practice. The chartplotter is great, essential even, for negotiating narrow or rock-filled channels in low visibility, but I continually felt without having studied the route on paper, I was still flying blind. Personal preference I guess, but I will stick with the old technology and use the new as a back-up.

Swell and Fog and Night

Ocean swell is a thing. Even with no wind and no waves we were often rising and falling 10 feet in sets of 2 or 3 with smaller swells in between. Depending on what the orientation of the boat to the swell was, this could range from being hardly noticeable to downright uncomfortable. Following seas were definitely the most enjoyable. It also affected visibility in some interesting ways.

Fog is both no big deal and a huge big deal. Going slow, using the light and sound signals and a constant eye on the chart plotter, AIS and radar makes fog a snap. Of course that’s if there are no other small boats out there. They are the wild card because they won’t have AIS, might not make a big blip on the radar and might or might not be sounding their signal. Exciting stuff that keeps you on your toes.

 

The other thing about fog and about sailing at night is that it is four bazillion times as hard to keep a steady course and so very easy to go off it slightly without noticing. One day in the fog I was sailing according to a shifting wind and ended up pointing a completely other direction than I thought I was. If the chartplotter is zoomed in too much or zoomed out to much it is easy to miss the long slow curve. Maintaining a course was easier at night because we were more paranoid and there was the occasional light showing to orient yourself to; just be careful it it isn’t a ship that is also moving.

And docking at night in a strange harbour is a whole ‘nother thing that must be experienced. A powerful light used sparingly so as not to destroy night vision and an attentive crew are musts.

Keeping a watch

In the Gulf Islands it is really important to keep a good watch as there are logs and crab traps everywhere. Keeping a watch at night is more of a crap shoot and I guess you just pray you miss things. Going back to my first point, you would think a crew of six would be able to miss everything, but with all the distractions involved, if there are no clear instructions to keep watch or sing out when you spot something, the risk of hitting something goes up a lot.

Luckily for us, when I did finally run over a crab pot, the engine wasn’t running and the line only tangled around the rudder which we were able to eventually discern and thus confidently cut the line, freeing ourselves. But in retrospect that incident and some of the other near misses are borderline unforgivable. Still, if you listen to the stories, it happens to everyone eventually.

And so…

I realize two things now that perhaps weren’t as clear before our trip. First, I have a lot to learn about the details. There is minutiae that can make the difference between a confident decision and wild-ass guess work and not knowing a crucial fact can turn an oops into a disaster pretty damn quickly. The second is that I know a lot. The trick, it seems to me, to learning the minutiae is to already know the broad strokes and then refine and repeat over a lifetime of experiencing. Every time I go sailing I cut a wider swath through my ignorance and the small things then come as they may. I will never know everything — Tim certainly didn’t and he has decades on me — but eventually I  might get to his level where I might be able to figure out just about anything the boat throws at me.

I am sure there will be times in the next year I will be absolutely terrified and lost, but this trip has filled out my tool kit a bit and hopefully I will be able to work through whatever the fates (or my own stupidity) has in store.

Although we still haven’t technically taken possession of our new boat, since we were stopping in Vancouver overnight anyway we decided to see if we could stay aboard Rainbow Hunter (which is what she is still called until we can go through some sort of renaming ceremony). We checked with Lawrence and he said sure.

We are in Vancouver on our way to join Tim and Donna Melville to sail around Vancouver Island on their Baltic 42. Hop over to macblaze.ca to read the ongoing report.

This was Leslie’s first actual experience with our new boat. But after 2 days of traveling and negotiating Vancouver traffic and then facing Granville Island on a gorgeous Mother’s Day stuffed full of people, we were a bit frazzled.  So I’m not sure there was any immediate emotional response one way or another. But she didn’t frown so that was good.

Lawrence (our broker) was off on a sea trial so we got someone else to open up the cabin and we snooped around a bit. I found the DVD player that the surveyor had noted but no one else had seen. We read through the old charter manual and generally tried to look like we belonged with little success. Finally we gave up and skipped out for lunch just as Lawrence was coming in, leaving him with a promise to catch up with him after we were sated.

Unfortunately fighting the crowds did little to calm our nerves, but even so we eventually convened back on the boat and Lawrence went over the progress. The water heater had been repaired, most of the rigging done and the Yanmar guys were due Monday.  The webasto guy had the parts but no time so that was starting to look like June. The lift also hadn’t been scheduled yet so that was likely June as well.

We ok’d the bottom paint and discussed the leaky hatch in the head. I was inclined to live with it. After all it was leaking in the room with the drains. But we talked it over and Lawrence invoked the possibility of the water making its way into the core, which is kind of a sailboat bogeyman. So I caved. I’m actually pretty afraid of that particular bogeyman.  That settled, we discussed moving the boat to Mosquito Creek and potential dates for the official transfer. Since we are coming out for the Hunter Rendezvous in June it’s likely we will just come out a few days early and do it then. After that Lawrence turned over the keys to their washroom and the marina gates. He also lent us his parking pass so we could save a few bucks. Then he bid adieu and attempted to escape to his own Mother’s Day proceedings.

So Leslie and I moved the truck and picked up a chilled bottle of Riesling at Liberty Wines and sat back to try and unwind. We broke out the cockpit cushions, a couple of wine glasses and some of John’s oatmeal cookies and broke in our new boat.

The massive binnacle on the 386 is not a plus in my mind, but there’s lots of space to sprawl out and it’s pretty comfortable. We flipped up one wing of the table which should be good enough when there is only two of us.

I’m still puzzled by the mesh sides in the enclosure, but I am guessing Larry (the previous owner) had it done for his Alaska trip to keep the bugs out. But it’s definitely something we will have to do something about before winter. The forward side panels are also a bit awkward since they come back almost to the arch and exiting the cockpit into the side deck is difficult unless they are half undone. No problem when we are stern-in but a bit of an issue if we are exiting or boarding  over the side.

The cabin, which is pretty spacious looked cramped and crowded with all our stuff piled willynilly. We’d brought some pillows and an afghan as well as some sheets. Leslie made up the bed and I tried reorganizing. I guess we’re going to have to learn to put things away. It’s amazing how so little clutter can change the nature of a small space. Something to remember.

Then we went off to dinner. We hit the washrooms in the way back and bumbled off the walls of the boat for a while as the sun set. The water tank was full so I fired up the waterheater and decided to have a shower. We spent some time searching the head for the switch for the shower sump. The manual insisted it was by the bathroom sink but neither I nor Leslie could find it. Eventually I pulled some floor up and found the pump. By running some water down the drain I figured out the sump was on a float switch, so as long as the breaker was on the pump would automatically run. Cool.

Then we hit the huge berth in the aft cabin to crash for the night. My only complaint is that the only lights (out of more lights than you can shake a 10′ pole at) that are useful for reading are way out of reach from anything other than an upright position. Although we have a bad habit of sleeping with lights on, this will be a non-starter when trying to conserve batteries.

Sleep was elusive, between squeaky fenders and too much tension, but we were warm and comfy. That cabin is a great luxury.

Morning had me figuring out the propane system and boiling some water for tea while L tried out the shower. Then we packed up and clicked off all the breakers before disembarking.  See you later.

It was a good first night. And it’s good to learn in small bits. Now we just need to actually leave the dock. I guess that’ll be June.