El Fin

We’re home tonight, Sunday the 15th of September, so this will be the last post of this blog until I post the address of the next.

We left Parks Bay yesterday morning and motored on glassy water in light wind for ten hours to Kingston Harbor.  It was an uneventful day in which we made a lot of good mileage toward home.  Kingston is a ferry town providing a thoroughfare to the Olympic Peninsula by way of Edmonds.

This morning we crossed the sound to Shilshole and did the transit of the Ballard Locks to park Quijote in her slip and bring the 2018 summer’s trip to an end.  And a fine summer’s trip it was.

USCG

We made an unexpected stop at Friday Harbor on Friday. Petar woke with a feeling that his heart was beating irregularly and he was experiencing chills with a tingling sensation in his finger tips. 

Not wanting to take a chance with heart problems, I called the US Coast Guard for advice, not hoping for much more than the phone number of a doctor with whom we could consult. They asked a lot of questions and then said they'd meet us with a doctor in 25 minutes. What service! The Coast Guard crew arrived as advertised and Petar was given a quick look-over. Whatever they saw convinced them that it would be prudent to have a more thorough check by emergency medical professionals.   The immediate plan was to escort us to Friday Harbor, but that was taking too long, so they revised their thinking and put Petar on the Coast Guard boat. Then they charged off ahead and we made our way to Friday Harbor at Quijote speed. 

After being admitted to the hospital, they gave him a medication to stabilize his heart beat and monitored his stats for a few hours while he rested.

We docked to boat and walked up the hill to the hospital.  If you’re going to have medical issues in the San Juan Islands, it’s a good idea to have them near Friday Harbor, since they have the only full service hospital on the islands.  We found him resting comfortably, but the docs hadn’t released him, and there wasn’t much we could do, so we gave them our contact info and headed back to tend to the boat.  When they finally did give Petar a clean bill of health, we met him in town for dinner.  It was a whole lot of excitement without a very satisfying outcome.  They couldn’t tell him much except that it’s fairly common. I didn’t talk to them, but they apparently didn’t have a very good explanation for him.

After dinner we returned to the boat and made good use of what remained of our daylight: we motored across the channel to Parks Bay, the last anchorage of the trip.

Lighthouse Hiking

We've enjoyed some nice hiking the last couple of days. First in James Bay, and then today on Stuart Island.

James Bay is in the Canadian Gulf Islands and was our last night in Canada.  The hike goes around the bay and out to Peile Point. 

Yesterday's hike was six miles round trip, up and down a dirt road to a lighthouse.  It was a brief foray into small town island life. Actually there was no town.  Just a handful of folks living on Stuart Island together. They have a small schoolhouse and an airstrip

The unoccupied lighthouse is a time capsule to a time when lighthouses needed manning. You can sit on the porch and look past the lighthouse out to the channel beyond. The home is even still furnished. Or poke your nose into the smokehouse and let the smell of char take you back to times of smoked salmon and cod. It was a lovely excursion to stretch the legs.

Crossing to Silva

On Monday, while Sam was playing planes, trains and automobiles, we headed out into the remnants of what the locals were calling the first big southeasterly.  The wind made a mess of the Strait of Georgia and we had a rather long way to go to get across it. We considered other options, like waiting it out a day, but decided to go rather than spend another day in the marina, however nice the showers and Wi-Fi. 

It wasn't a bad decision, but the crossing was somewhat rough. At times there was so much water crashing over the deck, it was finding its way down into the cabin through the companionway. That's a path I'm going to have to figure out how to staunch. After plowing through the worst of it, it took us a while to empty the bilge. We pumped out a lot of water. 

After the crossing, we spent the night in Silva Bay on a comparatively peaceful evening.  Silva Bay is well protected, but it's downfall is its popularity. With the marinas and all the mooring balls, there isn't much room for folks like us that just want to swing on an anchor.  We set the anchor well with a lot of chain out and then pulled in a fair amount so that if the wind shifted we wouldn't be blown into a boat tied to a mooring ball.  In most bays the boats all blow around and keep the same relative separation, but it doesn't work so well when some boats are on a ball and others are on an anchor.  I would never try to anchor in Silva Bay in the middle of the summer. It must take on the feel of a demolition derby.  With so little chain out, we survived the night intact largely because it was such a peaceful night.

Too Much of a Good Thing

It’s a windy day today.  We started off early out of Dol Bay because the winds were forecasted to gust to 40 knots in the afternoon.  We didn’t have far to go to get to Pender Harbour where Sam Needed to be before 1pm to catch his flight back to Seattle.  At that time the winds were blowing 10-15 with seas 1-2 feet with some swell that made life exciting now and then.  An hour or two after we arrived, it really kicked up and showed us the forecasters know their business.  It was nice to be able to watch the flags tearing themselves half to pieces from the comfort of the pub while watching the US Open Final.

Unfortunately for Sam, his flight was cancelled due to the weather, so there was some scrambling to work something else out.  It sounds like he’s got it figured out.  For our part we’re trying to decide if we want to plow across Georgia Strait tomorrow in the remnants of the storm or wait for smoother conditions.  I guess we’ll wait until tomorrow to see how things look.

In the mean time, John Henry Marina is quite comfortable.  We can fill our tanks, take showers, and reprovision.  We have less than a week left!

Hiking in the Rain

We rode into Princess Louisa Inlet on a sunbeam and rode out in the rain. They predicted the rain, but the weather was so spectacular cruising up the Jervis Inlet, we had a hard time believing that rain was on the way. But rain it did. And does. Two days ago we were out on deck admiring constellations.  Tonight we were out getting wet oohing and ahhing at the bioluminescence in the water. If you let your eyes adjust to the light, you can see a flair of luminescence with each raindrop. 

Our time in Princess Louisa Inlet was as gratifying as it always is. OK, it rained most of the time, but we didn't let that stop us from doing the hike that takes off from the dock at the head of the inlet. It's a very steep trail that gains 1600' or so in a couple of miles. The signage at the bottom recommends against doing it at all, but we weren't to be denied our workout, wet or not. We straggled back to the boat like drowned rats, feeling much better for the workout after so much time afloat. 

Now we're in Dol Boy. Stern tied close to shore and have the place to ourselves. Tomorrow we drop Sam off in Pender Harbour. The weather forecast predicts gale force winds, but we don't have far to go, so hopefully they'll blow through while we're safely tied to the marina in. We're down to the last week!

Thunder Bay

We're in Thunder Bay tonight, staged to make our way up Jervis Inlet tomorrow.  It will be a 45 mile day, but should be well worth the mileage to spend a couple nights in Princess Louisa Inlet. Today was a long day too, but the sun was out and the company is good.  The smoke is back, unfortunately, has been for a few days, coming and going as the wind shifts. It's not so bad that you can smell it, but it takes the sparkle out of what would otherwise be awesome views. 

Minor Crises Averted

I'm happy to report that the temporary fix to the throttle cable has been working quite well. A couple more problems have popped up though. It turns out a valve that needs to be open when filling the water tanks wasn't open so the tanks weren't filled properly. Four years in, you'd think I'd have these kinds of operational procedures down, but I'm still learning. Part of the problem is that I never met the previous owner, so there are a lot of things I had to figure out the hard way. For a long time I didn't even know that valve existed. It's hidden near the hull under the nav station.

Today the door latch to the bathroom broke. It seems a spring sprung.  I tore the mechanism apart and tightened things up, so at least the door will latch, but the handle doesn't spring back. I'll have to order the part from Sweden when I get home. 

We motored over to Heriot Bay today and pleaded to refill our tanks. The guy at the government dock had no potable water, but suggested we try the fuel dock.  Russell at the fuel dock was super friendly and happy to help. So our tanks are full again. That feels good. It was a sunny, windy day by that point, so we opted to do some sailing before dropping the anchor in Drew Harbour around the corner. It was a perfect way to end the day. 

Suffering Succotash

We suffered a bit of a setback today. We left Thurston Bay in time to meet slack at Seymour Narrows and continued on up Discovery Passage. Shortly before passing Campbell River southbound, the engine suddenly quit. Or so it seemed. It turns out it was still running, but at idle. My first thought was that we'd neglected to switch tanks and it had run out of fuel.  But since we'd just filled our tanks in Port McNeill, that was clearly not the problem. I opened up the engine room to have a look at the throttle lever and found that the cable connected to the throttle lever had become disconnected. As soon as I put a finger on the linkage, a part popped off and rattled across the engine room, never to be seen again. Well, alrighty then. 

Next I wondered if the propeller was still pushing the boat forward. It was. So at least we weren't dead in the water. I pulled the throttle lever up until the engine rpm was at cruising speed and tied it in place with a piece of cord. We were back in business, although unable to easily control the engine speed. At one point, while passing the Campbell River ferry terminal, the ferry darted out in front of us and, having no way to quickly slow the boat, I turned in a circle instead.  The ferry boat captain must have wondered if a crazy person was at the helm. 

We wound our way through Desolation Sound and arrived at our anchorage in the early evening where I removed the cord on the throttle arm and we idled in. The engine still goes forward and backward at idle, so we were able to anchor without much fuss. 

This morning I managed to rig up something a little more elegant with the hope that we'll have control of the engine speed with the throttle arm. We'll see. We'll leave to meet up with Sam in Mink Island Cove in about ten minutes. 

Remarkability

Today was remarkable. It started by sleeping in. Then breakfast. We were off to a good start. No sloth though: we had to wait for slack in Chatham Narrows.  We got going earlier than we needed to, more out of impatience than anything else.  We killed time at the entrance to the narrows by sailing in wind and sunshine.

At the documented time for slack, Petar helmed us through, nimbly avoiding patches of kelp. The kelp is plentiful in late summer.  Once through, we retraced our steps out to Johnstone Strait and set sails in 15-25 knot winds. For once the wind was blowing in the right direction and we plowed our way down the passage going full speed ahead for over three hours. I even deployed the new Hydrovane self steering unit for most of it. The gear performed well. It steers the boat, keeping it at a constant angle to the wind with an auxiliary rudder. In sailing as in life, it's always good to have rudder redundancy. (What does that even mean?)

Owing to the late departure and long day, we arrived at the anchorage rather late. The current outside the cove was turbulent and running fast. It slewed the boat around as we made our approach, but once in the cove all was as quiet and placid as an alpine lake. The water was still and there wasn't a breath of wind. It was a one boat anchorage with birds and seals playing nearby. 

Kay cooked a terrific stuffed green pepper dinner and we closed out the day by watching the sunset with a glass of wine.  

Remarkable. 

Just Ducky

We're across the bay from a fish farm today. Otherwise we have  Duck Cove to ourselves. After a lovely day of cruising among the islands, we arrived mid afternoon with time to read and relax a bit. Bbq chicken dinner, a box of wine, and fine company. Then off to bed.  Tomorrow we get to sleep in and Kay is making her oatmeal pancakes. Awesome!

Crummy Crab Pots!

Short day today.  We only came about ten miles from O'Brien Bay to Viner Inlet. When we got here, the snug little coves that the book gushed about so amply, were full of somebody's crab pots. How rude! So we found a small indentation in the shore line and set up another stern tie. It has been so quiet the last couple of days - no wind to speak of, hardly any people, just us, the birds and the trees. 

Kay and Petar are out exploring with the dinghy, leaving me to blog and enjoy my music. We have sausage pasta sauce on tortellini planned for dinner with a loaf of bread warning in the oven. Yum!

Optimal Anchoring in O'Brien Bay

After exchanging hugs and farewells with Judy at Sullivan Bay, we retraced our steps today and wound our way back out Sutlej Channel and past Walker Point. We motored by Stackhouse Island, down Penphrase Passage, Cruised by Wishart Peninsula, Pollard Point, Deep Sea Bluff and wound our way into Simoom Sound.  While all are just (rather interesting) names on a chart to us, each has its own history of exploration, discovery, and exploitation by people before us who no doubt lived hard lives. If the hills could talk. 

Our objective was Macintosh Bay, named for God knows whom, but the two coves that make up the bay are tiny and we found them filled with motor-yachts. Plan B  it was. 

Plan B, O'Brian Bay, was occupied as well, but we found a corner that accommodated us by dropping our anchor and tying the stern to shore. The cove we're in is small and deep, which don't tend to complement each other very well. When an anchorage is deep it requires a lot of chain to keep the anchor from dragging, but with a lot of chain the boat will swing in a large circle, so I feared getting blown into shore. By running a line to shore from the back of the boat we are able to keep the boat from swinging. We have over 200 ft of chain out and the back of the boat is about fifty feet off the rocks on the shoreline.  That left us with 25 ft of water depth for a six foot keel, which sounds like plenty until you consider that the tide will go out and we'll lose ten feet of that. The loss of depth will also create slack on the anchor line with which the boat can move closer to shore. We're probably okay, but I'll get up around 5:30 anyway, an hour before low tide, and check on the  depth and distance from shore.  The only alternatives were to shorten the chain or move the anchor into deeper water; both would compromise the anchor's holding power. So we're optimally situated I think, but it means keeping an eye on things as the tide goes out.