June 10, 2020. Nanaimo to Pender Harbour. 32 NM.
What a crazy time to be resuming the blog. We are 3 months into COVID-19, with some signs of slowing in B.C., but yesterday the WHO posted a headline saying that worldwide, we had reached a peak of new cases. Who knows where it will all end up? So, with that background anxiety, Sara and I have started out on what may prove to be a vacation, or even an Adventure!
We spent the last 3 days in Nanaimo getting the boat ready for a possible extended trip. We ran around like crazy, back and forth to grocery stores for provisioning, and in and out of Lowe’s and Home Depot for odds and ends to finish up a bunch of boat projects. We got the new Engel freezer secured, and filled it up with food. We ran the water maker, installed a corner wheel on our dock, and set up the new Dixon BBQ on the rail. I’m sure we did a bunch of other small projects, too, but left a bunch undone.
Nanaimo is cautiously emerging from the worst of the COVID lockdown, but people are still wearing masks, and social distancing. Most of the stores are limiting the number of people that can be inside at any given time, so line ups outside of people waiting to get in are common. It all has a weird pre-apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic feel to it, and made me very uneasy to be out and about, even though the official word is that there aren’t any active cases of COVID on Vancouver Island right now. B.C. has had no new deaths in the last 5 days, and our numbers are consistently falling. The world is sitting up and taking notice of Bonnie Henry, our fearless, and inexhaustible Chief Medical Officer of Health, who has steered the ship thus far. We are faring much better than other places.
So, that leads us to this morning, when we felt we had done enough boat projects to cast off the lines, and leave the dock. It was the first time since February that I had moved the boat, and I still feel extreme anxiety doing it. Sara and I talked today about how hard it is to leave a safe harbour and venture out into the unknown. Even as I write this, I still have some residual anxiety, although less than this morning.
As always seems to happen, the anticipation far outweighed the actual event, and getting off the dock was no problem. We motored over to the fuel dock, noticing a fair bit of white smoke from the engine, which we assumed was due to us not running the engine for a while. We got onto the fuel dock in the Nanaimo Boat Basin without much trouble, although came in a bit hot – nothing a strong burst in reverse couldn’t cure. After topping up ½ of both tanks and two 5- gallon jerry cans for a bit over $100.00, social distancing the whole time, we headed off again.
Getting underway, in full winter gear
As we got the engine up to speed, we really were making a lot of white smoke. I had done engine checks before we left the dock, and thought maybe we had water in our diesel, but it was getting a bit out of hand. There was water coming out with the exhaust, as per normal, and the engine temperature seemed OK, but I went below to investigate. I checked the water intake strainer, and sure enough, only a trickle of water was getting through.
I then looked at the through hull, wondering if something had gotten stuck on the outside, or mussels or something had grown into it. I’m not sure what I thought I could do from the inside of the boat, but wouldn’t you know it, the through hull valve was closed! I had moved it when I checked the engine earlier, but I must have moved it from open to closed! Which means last time I was at the boat, I had left it open, which I try to never do. Two stupid mistakes! I beat myself up for a few minutes for that one, but thankfully, opening the through hull and letting water back into the engine solved the white smoke problem, so visions of needing a diesel mechanic in Powell River didn’t come to fruition.
We proceeded across the Strait of Georgia, heading downwind in 10 to 15 knots of wind and moderate waves. Part way across, we saw a large plane flying low, and thought it was strange, given that travel with COVID is so diminished right now. We were further surprised when the plane veered and flew right by us, close enough for us to see its Navy insignia. It continued to circle us, and made three low passes, clearly checking us out. Around that time, we realized we were transiting Whiskey Golf, the torpedo testing range off of Nanaimo. We hadn’t heard anything about it being active on the VHF. Usually they make some kind of announcement, or sometimes specifically advise a boat to get out! We tried to figure out why the plane was so interested in us. We thought maybe he was making sure we weren’t Americans, who had crossed the border illegally during the COVID closures. We grabbed our Canadian flag, and put it in its holder on the stern, but by the time that was done, the plane had lost interest. We were also exiting Whiskey Golf about the same time, so we weren’t sure if he was just giving us a strong hint, or simply flying a pattern out of Comox. Anyway, nothing came over the VHF, and we continued on our way.
Seeing a little sunshine in the Strait of Georgia
We pulled into a gusty Pender Harbour around 1 p.m., but Gerrens Bay, where we had found a lovely anchorage last year, was full of derelict boats, spaced just close enough to make anchoring awkward, so we headed over to Garden Bay. It, too, had limited anchoring space. There were actually only a few anchored boats, but there were enough boats on mooring balls to leave little space for another boat. We ended up dropping anchor right at the entrance to Garden Bay, where we proceeded to swing hard on the powerful gusts coming down out of the mountains for the next few hours. Fortunately, the forecast for easing winds overnight seems to have proved right, and we are more settled right now. We aren’t far from the Seattle Yacht Club docks, which are, of course, empty due to COVID and the border closure. It might have been nice to tie up there, but somehow, I suspect even with empty docks they still wouldn’t want non-members there. Maybe I’m wrong.
Anyway, we are securely anchored. Sara has just made a delicious dinner of butter chicken on rice, which she got from the deli prior to our departure. We topped it off with vanilla yogurt and canned peaches. Simple, but it really hit the spot. I don’t usually feel like eating much when I’m first on the boat, but I’m feeling better now with some food in my stomach.
Sara seems to pick up her spirit and energy when mine is down. With little sleep, and anxiety about getting underway, I’m at a bit of a low point right now, but she is powering me through with great food, and keeping me going. She also spent the evening planning the rest of our trip. We are going to keep pushing north, with the possibility of a week in the Broughtons, and Sara flying back from Port Hardy, or, if we want to keep moving, we might start around Vancouver Island, with Sara flying back from Tofino. She has three weeks, where I have pretty much the whole summer before I have to be back in the ICU, so the current thought is that I will keep going alone when she heads back.
We’ll have to see if I have the nerve and the sense of adventure for that. It’s what I’ve been dreaming of all winter, and my plan with this boat was to make it so that I could single-hand it. The fatigue of getting ready for this simple trip has dampened my spirit a bit as of right now, but I’m sure it will pick up as we get more comfortable, and I get more sleep!
Right now, we have “the House of the Rising Sun” playing on the speaker over Spotify. The wind seems to have settled, and the inside of the boat is finally quiet, and comfortable. I think I’ll sleep better tonight, but will surely have one ear open for unusual noises. The anchor alarm is set, though, so if I can trust in that, I’ll be rested and ready to push on tomorrow.
Good night blog! Here’s to a good sleep, and less stress tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment