Hello Dreamer…

July 22, 2020. Dodger Channel, near Bamfield

The forecast held true, and we woke up to a foggy, rainy morning, with wind out of the south. It was cold on the boat, at about 13 C. We’d had an uneasy night, with the ongoing slight swell making it’s way in from the open ocean keeping the boat active enough that neither of us slept well. Part of being on the boat is getting attuned to all the sounds, normal or otherwise. It is rarely completely quiet, and listening to the boat becomes second nature. As you get used to the normal creaks and ticks, they become reassuring, and you know everything is alright.

Last night, though, the sound of the chain dragging across the bottom as the boat moved in the wind and the waves, and the extra moaning of the rigging, or odd clanging of a halyard makes it hard to fall deeply asleep. In addition, the surf of the ocean as it crashes on the rocks not far from us is clearly audible, and never stops here. There is also a low hooting sound that comes periodically. I think it is from waves and swell pushing air through the rocks. I heard the same sound in Nuchatlitz when I was anchored close to the outside. It is a plaintive, haunting kind of sound. It’s beautiful, but with the low skies and grey, rainy weather, it tends to bring down the mood a bit.

Anyway, we both woke up feeling tired. I was up first, and knowing we weren’t going anywhere, I thought I’d liven up the day with pancakes and bacon for breakfast. We have some fresh blueberries, too, so we had a morning feast of blueberry pancakes, with Aunt Jemima syrup and bacon. I guess that will be a historical reference soon, as I think Aunt Jemima now exists on the wrong side of a political barrier, and will get re-incarnated as something more appropriate soon. Perhaps something appropriately Canadian, given it’s Maple Syrup. Aunt Anne of Green Gables, maybe.

After breakfast we had a little energy, so we set about doing some minor boat jobs. We probably could spend a week or more working on boat projects if we wanted, but we limited ourselves to a couple of hours. We made water, and I set up a mount in the cockpit for my tablet. I’m thinking of using it as a secondary GPS/chart plotter. I’ll have to see how I like it. It is pretty remarkable that for a few dollars, I can have a full featured chart plotting app on my tablet. To replace the dedicated marine systems on the boat would cost thousands. Having both is great, as neither is perfect, and it’s nice to be able to cross reference if I need to.

The Spectra watermaker

While I was working on the tablet mount, Sara made pumpkin muffins, which turned out to be a delicious way to warm up the cabin. We actually had them for lunch, as neither of us felt like putting out any more effort. In fact, we both feel a bit groggy and headachy today. We are wondering if we are actually suffering some minor sea sickness with the constant boat motion. It is minimal, and certainly nothing like we have encountered out on the water, but it’s more consistent than we have encountered as well. At least on this trip, we’ve never been constantly rolling for more than 6 or 8 hours. We’ve now been in this anchorage for more than 24, and it may just be realigning our inner ears a bit. I seem to remember feeling like this when we were out on the Caribbean for days at a time.

Pumpkin muffins

After lunch, we read and napped, pretty much until dinner. Somewhere in there, Outbreak, who avid readers will recall I shared an anchorage with up in Hot Springs Cove, pulled into Dodger Channel, and anchored near us, but quite a way back up the channel. We are wondering if they are planning to head south tomorrow as well. It would be interesting to see them out there. I sailed around Estevan Point on the same day as they did as well, and watched them on the AIS all day.

Reading in the cockpit

Dinner was smokies and buns, with salad and carrot sticks. It’s all cleaned up now, and we are sitting in the cockpit with the enclosure up. The wind and swell is dying a bit, and we are planning our trip towards the Juan de Fuca Strait tomorrow. Pretty soon, we’ll be closing the loop on this journey along the open coast, and heading back to the inside of Vancouver Island.

Soundtrack: Hello Dreamer by Laikipia.  You’re still waiting for the sun to come along…

Looking out to the open ocean from Dodger Channel

Home.

July 21, 2020. Joe’s Bay to Dodger Passage. 12 NM.

 

It was a very different morning in Joe’s Bay today. A low fog hung over the anchorage, and a cool breeze blew in from the south. The fog wasn’t so thick that we couldn’t carry on our way, though, so we made ready to go. Before we left, we emptied the diesel jerry cans into the forward fuel tank, which was now partly empty. We anticipated going into Bamfield today, so we figured we’d get a little extra diesel on board while we could.

Close neighbors in Joe’s Bay

We wiggled our way out into Imperial Eagle channel, and were surprised to see three other sailboats coming out of the Broken Group, heading off in more or less the same direction. As we got into the channel properly, though, we all split off heading different ways, so our little armada didn’t last long. Around the same time, we saw our first whale of the day. Off in the distance, we saw the white plume of his blow, which at first we thought was a sail. It soon disappeared, though, and where it had been we saw the unmistakable shape of a tail flipping up in the air, then disappearing as the whale dove deep.

We were reviewing the options for where to spend the night, and decided that instead of heading into Bamfield, we would try an enjoy another night in a more wilderness setting. We flipped open our trusty guide book, and started to read about the anchorages in the Deer Group of islands. Dodger Passage looked appealing. In addition there are some old waypoints on our chart plotter that show that Norm and Beth, who used to own our boat, had anchored in Dodger Passage several times. With the amount of experience they had in this boat, and the number of times they had come to the open coast, we value their opinion highly, and it is a good sign if they have been somewhere before. So, we headed for Dodger Passage.

As we got closer to the open ocean, once again the swell built up. The morning fog lifted a bit, and for the most part the swell didn’t bother us, as we were heading straight into it. When we turned south into Dodger Passage, though, the swell hit us side on, rolling the boat side to side, and crashing into the rocks of our port side. It made for a dramatic entrance. It was short lived, though, as we were soon in the passage, and the ocean waves were blocked by islands to our starboard side. We motored up the narrow channel, and dropped the anchor in about 20 feet of water. The sound of the ocean waves crashing on the islands just to the east of us was clear. There is a slight swell in the anchorage as well, gentle, but just enough to remind us that we are very close to open water.

Rolling in to Dodger Passage, with waves crashing on the rocks nearby

Once safely secured, we headed down below for lunch. It was still cool and cloudy, so toasted bagels and quesadillas warmed us up, and running the stove warmed the boat up. After lunch, we started to get everything ready to get the dinghy off the deck and head into Bamfield. We knew it would mean crossing a mile or so of open water, but the wind was gentle, and we figured we could handle the ocean swell if we just went slowly.

It took a while to get the dinghy off the deck, the engine attached, the gas tanks, oars, and seat in place, as well as loading up our back packs with walking shoes and extra warm clothes, but eventually, we were ready to go. As we got in the dinghy, we saw another whale tail flipping out in Trevor Channel, which we were about to traverse. We headed out anyway, staying close to our side until we were just across from Bamfield, then heading across the open water to the other side.

As we entered Bamfield inlet and were just passing the Coast Guard station, the engine died. The MV Frances Barkley was docked right there as well, and she started to pull out. I quickly pumped some gas in the bulb, and the engine fired up again. We joked that we were glad it hadn’t happened out in the middle of Trevor Channel, and didn’t think much more of it.

Bamfield government dock

The next couple of hours were spent exploring Bamfield. We filled our jerry cans with diesel, and topped of our dinghy gas at the fuel dock. Then we headed over to the government dock on the west side, and tied up there. We walked along the boardwalk for most of the distance, but felt guilty since we didn’t have masks with us. There were signs all along that said masks were mandatory. We didn’t see any other people, so we kept going, but as we neared the end, there were a few folks around, so we headed up into the roads off the boardwalk, and walked back on them, to avoid the inevitable close contact with others that the boardwalk would have imposed.

Some of the sights along the West Bamfield Boardwalk

Coming back to the dinghy,we hopped in and headed across to East Bamfield. It didn’t take long to look around there. Our main discovery was a small grocery store, where we stopped for ice cream, and topped up on chocolate, which is one of the dwindling resources on the boat.

Haagen Dazs in East Bamfield

It was about 1600 when we got back down to the dinghy to head back to the boat. The fog had rolled in again, and there was light misty rain falling as well. As we motored back out Bamfield Inlet, the fog descended completely, and it wasn’t long before we couldn’t see land in front of us, or behind us. I pointed the dinghy in the direction I thought we should be heading, using the wind and waves to help determine the direction. In a few minutes, we still couldn’t see land on the other side of Trevor Passage. We looked at each other, and Sara pulled out her phone to fire up the navigation app. Sure enough, we were headed up Trevor Passage, more or less directly away from the boat.

We quickly corrected course, and turned back into the waves, using the app to direct a better course. The rain was a bit stronger, and the fog was still thick, so we were almost on the land on the opposite side before we could see it. We turned to run directly along the shore of the islands across the passage, feeling a bit comforted that we could see something in the fog.

Then, the engine cut out again. The wind and waves were pushing us backwards, in the direction we had come. I tried to get the engine going again, pumping more fuel into it. It briefly ran for a second, then cut out again. Try as I might, I could not get it running again. Just as we decided to pull the oars out, to at least arrest our backwards course, we heard a blow a few hundred feet off our port side, and looked to see the unmistakable arch of a humpback within a stone’s throw of us. The absurdity of being disabled at sea in a small dinghy, with fog all around and a whale close enough to smell his breath struck us both. We nervously laughed at the situation, and I started to row. Progress was slow against the wind, but we seemed to be gaining ground again. The whale blew again, and once more slowly arched his back. A few minutes later, and he came up again, this time flicking his huge tail in the air before he dove deeply. I kept rowing for all I was worth. We knew we could make it, but were likely at least an hour away, rowing into the wind and the waves.

Out of the fog, we heard the sound of an engine, and soon a fishing boat was jetting past us, heading for Bamfield. They looked over and saw us rowing, and came to see if we were all right. We told them what was happening, and they kindly offered to tow us back to our boat. By motor, it was only a few minutes away. Sara handed them our painter, and we were soon under way again.

As they towed us slowly along, I kept working away at the engine. I kept pumping fuel through the bulb, but couldn’t seem to get a good flow going. Suddenly, I noticed the arrow on the one way bulb, and traced the line back to the gas tank. The fuel line and one way bulb were installed backwards! Every time I pumped fuel, it was trying to pull it out of the engine and back into the gas tank! I quickly flipped the ends, pumped the bulb a few times, and fired up the engine. I whistled, and the fishermen in the tow boat saw that we were up and running again, and cast our lines off. We thanked them, and motored back to towards the boat.

As we turned into Dodger Passage, at first we couldn’t see the boat at all, but to our relief, it appeared out of the fog. We were soon back aboard, safe and sound, and much relieved.

Home appearing out of the fog

The rest of the evening was spent putting the dinghy back on deck, then checking weather and making plans. It looks like tonight will be rainy, and tomorrow may be another foggy day. If it is, we probably will sit tight before heading back out into the open ocean, and making our way south. We have some big days ahead of us, with fewer options to stop, so want to make sure the weather is in our favor.

Dinner was seared tuna with pasta and a salad. We put the enclosure up in preparation for a wet night, and sat in the cockpit, looking out at the fog as we ate, happy to be home and safe on our boat.

Soundtrack: Home. Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros.

Go Your Own Way

July 20, 2020. Joe’s Bay, aka Turtle Island, the Broken Group, Barkley Sound

If you imagine what a sailboat vacation around Vancouver Island is like, you probably picture a lot of days like today. It’s taken us about 6 weeks to have that imaginary day, but it was a great one!

We were both really tired after yesterday, and arrived hungry and irritable in Joe’s Bay. We went to bed as soon as we had the boat tucked in, but it was still well past cruiser’s midnight when we fell asleep (it was about 2230). The anchorage was quiet and still all night, and we slept well for the first time in a few days, absent the fishing boat wakes and loud music of the Tofino Resort.

We took it easy this morning. Sara slept in, and I got up at around 0700 and read my book, enjoying the stillness. Once Sara got up, we had a late breakfast of tea, cereal and fresh blueberries. Then, we set about the main project for the day, which was to get Sara’s paddle board out of the lazarette, inflate it, and go for a paddle.

Still morning in Joe’s Bay (Turtle Island)

Getting the paddle board out was a bit of a feat. We have a deep lazarette on the boat, with a huge amount of storage space. We had put the second paddleboard right at the back, not anticipating that Sara would be back so soon. We had to empty the space of everything in front of the board before we could haul it out in it’s bag. With two of us doing it, though, it really only took a few minutes, and we soon had the board out, and everything else put away.

I took the board up to the foredeck, and we inflated it on top of the dinghy, which is still up there. As we do more and longer paddle board trips, the dinghy is becoming less necessary, and hasn’t been off the deck since North Harbour in Quatsino Sound.

Eventually we had both paddleboards set up, and in the water. We put together a picnic lunch, and headed out to explore. We realized last night as we were coming in to Barkley Sound that we are actually anchored not far from the beach we camped on in 2015 when we came kayaking here with our kids and friends. That seems forever ago now.

Sara likes to wear her best dress for paddleboard outings

We paddled over to the same beach, and pulled up on it for a walk and a look around. It seems smaller now than it did 5 years ago. Maybe because we don’t have little kids to watch out for. Or maybe because the tide was up. Anyway, it is a beautiful little beach, and it was a nice stop. It was still too early for lunch, though, so we paddled back to Joe’s Bay.

Willis Island kayak beach

On the way, I realized that I had a phone meeting of ICU administrators scheduled at 1300. Since we have cell access here, and we weren’t in a hurry, I called in to the meeting, sitting on the paddleboard in the middle of the bay. Unfortunately, no-one else seemed to dial in, so after waiting for ten minutes, I hung up and we kept going. It would have been cool to take a meeting out on my board.

We paddled around the back of Willis Island. Turret Island was a mile or two across the bay, with another beautiful beach that we could see from the end of Joe’s Bay. It was all upwind, but we started to dig our way across the bay, and in 30 or 40 minutes, we managed to get across and out of the wind.

Coming on to the Turret Island beach

We pulled up on the deserted island, and sat and had a lovely lunch, looking back across the sunny bay. The warm, soft sand felt great between our toes, and it was at that point that we realized we were actually having the imaginary “sailing vacation” day. After going for a walk on the beach, we set out back towards the boat. The paddling was much easier downwind.

Shortly after we got off the beach, a boat came roaring through the bay. We braced ourselves for their wake to hit us, but as soon as the occupants of the boat saw us, they slowed down, and altered course to come right at us. We weren’t sure what that was about, and as I’ve said before, it’s intimidating to have a big power boat with twin 100 horse power outboards heading toward you on when you’re on a paddleboard, but they came slowly and carefully.

It turned out they were park rangers. They haven’t seen people that far out on SUPs in the area, and thought it was cool, so wanted to come over to say hi. We chatted for a while, and I asked why there were no kayakers on any of the beaches. Apparently the Pacific Rim National Park is still open, but there is no camping allowed, so no kayakers. It seems like this would be a pretty safe place to avoid COVID, even if you were out with a group of kayakers, and I know there is camping going on in more populated places, so I’m not sure of the rationale. I’m sure there’s a reason, though.

Heading downwind back to Joe’s Bay

We paddled around Joe’s Bay on the way back to the boat. By the time we finally got back, we had been out for almost four hours. It was a long paddle, and we were both pretty tired. I had a nap, while Sara read in the cockpit.

This evening, we barbecued chicken and zucchini, and roasted some potatoes in the oven. After dinner, we watched a Beneteau First 435 come into the anchorage. He motored all the way from the entrance, across the entire bay, which is nearly empty, and dropped his anchor a couple of hundred feet from our boat. In any crowded anchorage, it would be a totally reasonable distance, and it doesn’t really bother us. It provided us with the eternal cruising entertainment of watching another boat anchor. It’s just funny that he came so close to us, and to the boat in front of us, when there is so much empty space around. It seems to be a pretty common practice, though. Maybe something about safety in crowds. After all the empty anchorages I have been in, it is even more remarkable. We’ll have to get used to more people as we head south again, though.

Soundtrack: Fleetwood Mack – You can Go Your Own Way. We’ll keep trying to do that…

Lots of empty space in Joe’s Bay

Escape can’t be the only way…to escape.

July 19, 2020 Tofino Resort and Marina to Joe’s Bay, Walsh Island, Barkley Sound. 35 NM

Escaping from Tofino proved to be close to the limits of what was possible for us in a single day.

After another poor sleep, with fishes being gutted on the dock next to us until 2200, then music thumping from a boat down the dock until 0200, I was keen to get moving this morning. The wake from sport fishing boats exiting the harbor woke me up around 0630. There is a significant current that flows through the marina, making it hard to maneuver boats on and off the dock. Today, the slack current was at 0700, which was low water slack, and 1320, which was high water slack.

I knew it had been shallow getting into the marina, but even at low water slack, the charts showed we should have enough water to get off the dock. So, I got up at 0630, checked the depth, which showed 5 feet below our keel, and looked outside at the weather. It had rained overnight, but the day was starting off clear, with a bit of low cloud, but no fog. I knew we had a fairly long day today, so I decided we should try for an early start. We could eat breakfast on the way.

Sara got up shortly after me, and we quickly had the power unhooked, the garbage offloaded, and the water tanks filled. Then, we untied, and slipped off the dock. The current was just starting to flow, but I used it to help push the stern around as we left the dock, so that I was pointing forward out into the channel. Then, we started to head off.

We had gotten about 100 feet, and were moving slowly, at just under a knot, when there was a sudden shudder, and we stopped. I thought the engine had died, but realized it was still running fine. It took me a second to realize we had run aground. Fortunately we were going slowly when we did it, and weren’t hard aground. In fact, between the current and a little bit of reverse engine, in first gear, we slid off the low spot back into slightly deeper water. I checked the chart again, and it looked like we should be fine, with enough water to get through.

This is as far as we got.  Just a few feet off the dock, and we were on the bottom.

Sara was on the bow, and we decided to try again, closer to the dock, where the chart showed even greater depth. We crept forward, but once again, we slowed, and felt the bottom of the keel rub against the muddy sea floor, stopping our forward progress.

I slipped into reverse again, and we pulled back easily. By this time, the current had increased a bit, and it was getting harder to steer the boat. It was shoving me around as I was moving slowly, and didn’t have much steerage. I let the boat slide back into the deeper water near where we had started, and Sara quickly flipped the fenders and lines to the port side from the starboard. Then, crabbing against the current, we slowly brought the boat back to the dock where we began. We hopped off and tied her up, then sat down and took stock.

My adrenaline was pumping for a while, but overall, I knew intellectually that we were moving very slowly, and the bottom was soft, so the likelihood of any significant damage was minimal. I checked the bilge for any signs of new water, and saw none.

We sat down and had a cup of tea, and slowly the nervous tension faded. We decided to get off the boat and go for a walk, since there was no way we were going to get going again before high water slack in the afternoon.

So, we went for a long walk out to Tonquin beach. We could see from the lovely white sand beach that a thick fog hung over the open coast, so it was maybe just as well that we hadn’t gotten out there in the morning.

Tonquin beach, with fog out to sea.

After the beach, we headed back through town. We grabbed a couple more groceries at the Co-op, and I had a bite of breakfast there, as well. This time, we managed to both get in the store at the same time, by lining up separately. We were there by 1030, and there was no one else in the store anyway, so it didn’t seem to matter.

Back at the boat, we took advantage of our extra time to have showers, wash the boat a bit, do some more computer work with the fast internet, and prepare once again for our departure. At 1300, the depth at the dock had come up from 5 feet in the morning to 13 feet. With an extra 8 feet under our keel, we felt confident to try again. We waited for the rapid current to diminish, and for the Harbour Air plane to leave. At just after 1300, we headed off again. This time, we were already pointed in the right direction, so we slipped slowly forward, over the shallow that had caused the problem in the morning.

I didn’t want to hit anything at any kind of speed, so we ticked along in first gear. We were going so slowly that kayakers were passing us. There are several shallow patches leaving the marina in Tofino. It really isn’t set up for sailboats, or boats with any kind of draft. Eventually, we got out into slightly deeper water, with about 20 feet under our keel, then 30, then 50.

We motored slowly out into the open ocean, but even as we left the main body of Vancouver Island behind, the water stayed shallow, consistently less than 75 feet for a long way out. I guess that is why it’s a good surf spot. The waves come up as the ocean swells come from across the Pacific, and then hit the long, shallow shelf off of Tofino.

Unfortunately for us, that meant that those same swells were built up high as we motored out to sea. We were riding over 8 to 10 foot waves, about 5 seconds apart. The rule of thumb is that comfortable waves should have a period of double the wave height. Less than that means a bumpy ride. We were seeing a period of half the wave height, so they were charging in fast and steep.

Eventually we were out deep enough to turn downwind, and put the waves more behind us. We couldn’t put them directly on our stern, though, as this would have brought us back to land. So they were on our starboard quarter. For the most part, they were OK, but when the big ones rolled through, the boat rolled side to side, and we could hear things in the cupboard bashing around. It was all very similar to our trip through Nawhitti Bar and around Cape Scott. The big difference was that the day was warm, and it wasn’t raining, so at least we had that going for us.

It doesn’t look it from this picture, but we  had big following waves.

It was an uncomfortable ride down past Long Beach and Wikanninish to Uclulet, though. We alternated between surfing down the waves with them on our stern, to turning back out to the ocean when we started to get too close to land again. Despite all the wave action, there was minimal wind, and we were stuck with the motor on for the whole trip.

Finally, after several hours of taking turns hand steering so we could surf the waves safely, we turned into Barkley Sound, and came behind some islands that cut the swell. It was around 1830, and the wind was up a bit, so we pulled out the genoa, and picked up some speed with the help of the wind. As we got deeper into the sound, the wind died, and we motored the rest of the way in blissfully calm water, with the sun starting to glow as it got lower on the horizon.

Finally some calm in Barkley Sound

We turned into Joe’s Bay after 1900, almost 12 hours since we first tried to get underway. We were both exhausted, but took the time to motor around the bay, and find the best spot to drop the anchor. It is a lovely, big bay, and there were 6 other boats already anchored. That sets a new record for this trip of other boats in an anchorage. As we head south, we expect to see more and more people. Right now, it’s kind of nice, as there is lots of room in here, and no one is too close, and everyone is being very quiet.

It’s nice to be at anchor with other boats nearby.

We had a quick dinner of chicken, potatoes and Greek salad from the Tofino Co-op deli. Sara wisely grabbed something easy for tonight, as we knew we would be late. Now, the sun is setting behind the islands, and we are feeling ready for bed. The anchorage doesn’t have a breath of wind or a ripple, and we are looking forward to a quiet night and a good sleep.

Soundtrack: Dan Mangan, Road Regrets

You’re my best friend…

July 18, 2020. Tofino Resort and Marina

Well, there goes my peace and quiet! And for the most part, I couldn’t be happier.

Here’s what I mean by that. Sara arrived back at the boat today, and it is wonderful to have her here. She is the best partner in life and as crew that I can imagine, and I feel like a weight has been lifted off me since she arrived. She is also keeping up her end of the conversation quite ably, which is one of her greatest talents.

Unfortunately, the peace and quiet actually started to disappear before she arrived, and that part is not so great. The fishing boats started coming back into the marina at about 2100 last night, and they all cleaned their catch at the station literally right next to my boat. They were out there until about 2230, hanging out drinking beer, smoking and gutting salmon, with seagulls all over my solar panels waiting for a morsel. I’m not sure if they knew anyone was on my boat, but when one of them tried to climb aboard, I came up into the cockpit. I didn’t have to say anything; they all backed off a bit, and I’m not sure which one was getting on the boat, but nobody tried again after that. I’m not sure if cruising boats are simply so rare in Tofino that no-one understands the etiquette, but I’ve never been in a marina before when someone tried to climb on my boat, at least when I was on it. Around 2230, a boat down the dock started to play come loud music (for which they apologized today). At that point, though, I was exhausted, so I put in some ear plugs and fell asleep by 2300.

Cleaning fish right next to the boat.  Tofino Resort and Marina is far more about fishing than about cruising boats.

Today dawned foggy and grey. I was a bit concerned that Sara’s flight might not get in, but the fog burned off around 0900, and I was sure she would make it. I spent the morning working like crazy to try and get caught up on all my chores, and get the boat ready for her arrival. I used the decent internet here to log into the hospital computer system, and ground my way through all the PFTs in my inbox.

Then, I started with boat chores. I flushed the watermaker while we have access to fresh water. Then, I cleaned the bilge. While I was in there, I noticed that the hose clamp for the bilge pump had rusted off, and the hose was barely attached. Given that that is a potentially life saving piece of equipment, I set about replacing that. As per usual, it was a three handed job at full reach of my arms, with no visibility, but eventually, I got it done.

Then, I cleaned the floor and the rugs, filled the water tank, did the dishes, made the beds, etc. I felt like Cinderella! Once I had everything looking presentable, I had a shower, and got the blog all uploaded to my latest post.

Harbour Air lands about as close to the boat as it possibly could

The flight came in right on time. About the best thing I can say about this marina experience is that it is awfully convenient to Harbour Air. The plane landed at the end of the same dock I am parked on, and Sara came off with all the other mask wearing passengers. It was so great to see her! I couldn’t stop smiling.

Unloading the plane.

We quickly got her on the boat, and unloaded her stuff, then went for lunch up at the restaurant above the marina. After lunch, we went for a walk into Tofino to get groceries for the next week or so. We had a bit of a run-in with the bouncer at the front of the Co-op. She wouldn’t let us both go in the store, even if we went in separately, and split up the shopping. I had to wait outside while Sara shopped. She wouldn’t even let me get back in line and go in as an individual when it was my turn. Quite the tight system they have here in Tofino. I guess you can afford to be a bit more authoritarian when you are the only grocery store in town. We haven’t run into this level of rigidity in any store we’ve been in this summer. Oh well, I guess she was just doing her job.

Waiting to get into the Tofino Co-op

Tofino is incredibly busy. There are people all over town, and it looks like full on tourist season. All the restaurants are full, and have people waiting outside, and the sidewalks are packed. Most of the people in town appear to be twenty-somethings, presumably here for the surfing, the nature, and all the other millennials. It’s not really my scene, and I think I’ve aged out of this kind of place. I’ll be glad to be headed out to a quiet anchorage as soon as possible.

We headed back to the boat, and unloaded all the groceries. Sara had a nap, and I caught up on the last of my work. When she woke, we walked back in to town to get our last necessity, a couple of bottles of white wine.

Nothing better than a couch nap on the boat

We had originally planned to go out for dinner, but given how crazy things were in town, we elected to have a stir fry on the boat instead. Afterwards, I went out and did a little boat cleaning, trying to get some of the seagull offings off the solar panels and bimini. Just when I’d finished, another fishing boat came in, and the seagulls started landing all over the boat again. I hung around outside for about 45 minutes shooing them off the panels, but the fishermen are still out there now, an hour later, and another fishing boat has just come in, so I’ve finally given up. I’ll try to clean things again in the morning before we go.

Song of the day – when I was cleaning up earlier, Queen came on with You’re my Best Friend.  It really hit the mark.

Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had
I've been with you such a long time
You're my sunshine and I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you
Oh, you're my best friend

 

The crew is complete, once again!

Ooh La La

July 17, 2020. West Whitpine Cove to Tofino Resort and Marina

 

It was a calm night and morning in West Whitepine cove, and I slept like I was in a house, and not on a boat. I raised the anchor in the warming sunshine, and motored out into Millar Channel, past the marine farm, reversing my course from yesterday. There was no sign of yesterday’s fog, though, and I could see across the channel to Ahousat clearly. I could also see their cell tower. Since I had time to spare, I idled the engine and drifted in the warm morning while I phoned my parents and Sara to update them on my position.

Heading for Tofino

The trip into Tofino is complicated, and not well-suited to deep draft sailboats. There are lots of shallow passages with rapid currents flowing through them, and my speed varied from 4 to 7 knots without changing the RPMs on the engine, as I turned each corner into a new channel, and a new current. I was trying to time my arrival for about 1200, which was slack current at the marina. The marina staff had warned that was best, when Sara made my reservation, as otherwise, docking can be tricking.

By taking it one channel, and one set of markers at a time, I slowly made my way into Tofino. There were whale watching and fishing boats zipping past all over. The whale watching boats, in particular, seemed to carry their load of orange coated tourists at random. At one point, I thought one of them was trying to come over and talk to me, as they were driving towards me full throttle. Then, suddenly, they stopped a few hundred yards away. I couldn’t figure out what they were doing. I looked for the whale they were watching, but saw nothing. I couldn’t afford them too much attention, though, because I had to focus on the shallow passage I was transiting at the time.

Eventually, I came into Tofino, and worked my way carefully along the docks along the waterfront. It is very shallow in here, too, and I threaded my way carefully between patches of skinny water. I approached the dock right at 1205, which was a bit of a miracle, as my speed had varied so much en route that there was really no predicting when I would get there.

I radioed in on 66A, to see if I could get some help with my lines. Sara had assured me that they had lots of dockhands available to help. No one answered. I radioed again after a couple of minutes, and still no answer. I was getting close to the dock, but didn’t know exactly where to go, so I turned around, right over a shallow patch, trying to juggle the radio and steering at the same time. I tried my cell phone instead, and got the restaurant at the marina. They transferred me to the marina, but still no answer. I tried a third time on the radio, and then a second time on the phone, and finally got through to someone. After being put on hold twice, she found my reservation, and said someone would meet me on the dock.

I executed another tight turn, avoiding a 2 foot deep spot marked on the chart, and slid onto the dock, right in front of an RCMP boat. A very pleasant young fellow named Ethan helped with my lines. He is 19 years old, and has just moved down here from Smithers. He really seemed to be enjoying working on the docks, and his chatty and relaxed air made up for my frustration getting some help. He explained that the girls in the marina were busy, as the Harbour Air flight was on it’s way in. In fact, the flight landed a few minutes after I tied up. It comes to the same dock I am on, which will be really convenient for picking up Sara tomorrow.

This is how close the Harbour Air flight lands.  Tomorrow, it will be Sara getting off that plane!

After the flight landed, the marina manager Megan chatted with me for a bit, and helped me move my boat back into the space vacated by the RCMP boat. I breathed a sigh of relief at finally being tied up securely in here, and went up to the marina office to check in. Unfortunately, they were busy with tourists that were going out on a whale watching excursion. So, I popped over to the pub next door to get some lunch, but they had people waiting too, and couldn’t say how long it would be for a table.

I headed back to the boat, and dug into my dwindling rations to stick with the old standby, a cheese and meat quesadilla. I am getting in the mood for something different, but I was so hungry and tired at that point, that anything would do.

Once I had some food in me, I felt better. I went back up to the marina office, and tried to check in. The staff there were pleasant, but seemed very new. They didn’t know the wifi password, or how to get into the laundry room, or really anything. They tracked down Megan, and she hooked me up with a key to the laundry and a wifi password, so I was set for the afternoon.

I went back to the boat and logged in to wifi, then sat down on the hospital email to catch up on work. I then caught up on my laundry, updating the blog while I waited for the cycle to complete. With a full bag of clean clothes, I headed back to the boat, did some more PFTs, and then went in search of dinner.

Tofino is a marked contrast to any town that I’ve been in recently. It is sort of a cross between Venice Beach in L.A., and Whistler, with a West Coast flair. It’s busy, full of young people here for surfing, fishing, and wildlife outings. It’s loud, with muflerless motorbikes running up and down the main street. I found it all pretty overwhelming in relation to the empty coves I have been frequenting over the past weeks. I stopped at a pizza place, and had a delicious pizza for dinner. Between the waiters and the chef shouting at each other and the loud music, I ate as quickly as I could and then went for a walk around town.

 

 

 

 

I guess maybe I should have been taking tourists with me.  Big business in Tofino

 

The grocery store had a long lineup, so I left that for tomorrow, and grabbed some milk at a convenience store for breakfast. I’m back on the boat now, having logged back in to the hospital system and worked through some more tests. Sara called, and we chatted and confirmed plans for tomorrow. I can’t wait to see her!

I have a feeling it might be a bouncy couple of days on this dock. I’m at the outside of the marina, which is pretty much the only place in town that can accommodate my draft. The fishing and the tour boats are zipping by pretty much constantly. They seem to ignore the “no wake” sign, and there is a fairly consistent wash against the boat. Hopefully it will settle after dark.

Rod Stewart is singing Ooh La La on the stereo. I wish that I knew what I know now when I was younger…

I’m really lucky, underneath it all…

July 16, 2020. Bacchante Bay to West Whitepine Cove. 16 NM.

 

After a beautiful couple of days, the rain came back last night and today. I guess nature is reminding me not to get too comfortable. I woke up early with the rain on the cabin top, and I couldn’t get back to sleep. After I anchored yesterday, I read in one of the guidebooks how one boat had reported getting their anchor fouled, somewhere in the same area that I had dropped. It occurred to me that if I got my anchor fouled this far away from civilization, with no cell phone or other contact, it might turn in to a bit of an ordeal, so I was eager to make sure I could get the anchor off the bottom.

As it turned out, it was no problem, and I had the anchor up, covered with stinky mud, by 0730. I motored quietly out of the bay. There were no signs of life from Last Dance, but they seemed to be on a later schedule than I’ve been keeping, so I guess they were sleeping in.

Leaving Last Dance in a rainy Bacchante Bay

The rain kept coming down lightly, and the wind was right on my nose as I motored down Shelter Inlet, retracing my track from the day before. I resisted the temptation to take a shortcut around Obstruction Island down Sulphur Passage. It looked like it might save me a mile or two, but it was narrow and twisty, requiring lots of navigating around rocks and other shallow hazards. With the low clouds and potential for fog, I wasn’t really feeling that adventurous. Instead, I went around the other side of Obstruction Island, down the slightly wider Hayden Passage. It still was tight enough that I had to keep a close eye on my course especially when a couple of fishing boats when flying by, one in either direction.

I came out into Millar Channel, and I wasn’t sure exactly what my destination was going to be. I had gotten off early, and could put a long day in, positioning myself for a short jump to Tofino to meet Sara in a couple of days. On the other hand, I wasn’t in a big rush, and had enough time to spend another night in the wilderness before I descended back into civilization.

The weather made my mind up for me. As I reached the southern end of Mckay Island, the swell from the ocean started to be perceivable, and the wind blew steadily right on my bow. The deciding factor, though, was the wall of gray fog that had reached in from the ocean, completely obstructing my view. As I turned past the south end of McKay Island, it enveloped the boat, and my visibility dropped to a couple of hundred feet. I turned on the radar, and saw it’s reassuring shadow overlay the chart plotter. I watched closely for any radar targets that might be fishing boats zipping towards me through the foggy curtain, but none showed up.

Fog Bank off McKay Island

As I turned away from the ocean, it wasn’t long before I had escaped the wall of mist, and I could see again. I turned into West Whitepine cove, and after nosing around for a bit, looking for a shallower spot to anchor, I eventually dropped the hook in 50 feet of water, as close to the shore as I felt confident. The rain had started again, and I quickly put the cover up over the cockpit, and took refuge inside.

I thought a nice toasted bagel would pick up my spirits, but as I opened the first package, I could see they were well beyond their best days, with bits of green here and there growing on all the bagels. The second package was no better, so I threw them both out. I then had a good look around the fridge, and was struck once again that it was long overdue for a good cleaning. Seeing as how I wasn’t going anywhere, I took everything out, and gave it a good wash with some lysol. I pitched a few older eggs overboard as part of the effort. 45 minutes later, I was finally cleaning up the last of the egg that had smashed on the bimini on its way to the ocean. I had a flashback to an identical experience we had on our catamaran many years ago, and made a mental note to always be careful when tossing eggs off the boat in the future.

With the fridge cleaned out, and no bagels available, I went back to my old standby, and cooked up another quesadilla. The one thing about having Sara on board is that we are never short of cheese. When I cleaned out the fridge, I must have come across seven different cheeses, including bricks, slices and creams. That’s one thing we won’t have to buy when we hit the grocery store in the next couple of days. But we probably will buy it anyway.

The rest of the afternoon was spent on various boat cleaning projects. With the rain still falling, and the wind blowing pretty hard, there was really no where to go. I took the opportunity to watch a movie and have a nap. When the movie was done, I sat in the cockpit and watched another bear grazing on the grassy foreshore.

Another anchorage, another bear grazing on shore

Eventually, dinner time rolled around. I barbecued the salmon I had taken out of the freezer last night, and despite wind trying to blow the barbecue out, it turned out pretty well. It was accompanied by the remainder of the mushy canned peas that I opened yesterday.

A small waterfall could be heard from the boat

Finally, around 7 p.m., the rain settled, and the wind calmed a bit. I hadn’t been off the boat all day, so I threw the paddleboard in the water, and went to check out the small waterfall I could hear from the boat. I then paddled around the small island that borders the cove I’m in. Coming back toward the boat, I decided to step up on the grassy ledge near the creek, which made an easy way off the paddleboard, and gave me the opportunity for a short walk on land. Unfortunately, the remains of some creature had been consumed right where I stepped off the paddleboard. Mindful of the bear I had seen earlier, I made sure not to wander too far. I climbed up on a log in the field for a better view, and was startled by a snake slithering into the recesses of the wood.

Something had eaten dinner right near the spot I chose to get off the paddleboard

At that point, I was all out of adventuresome spirit, and beat a hasty retreat back to the boat. Now, the dishes are done, and it is starting to rain again, so I’m finishing this entry in the cozy cabin, with a reading light on, and the stereo playing “Underneath it All”, by No Doubt.

West Whitepine Cove