Saltspring 2012

August 8, 2012, and on our way to Saltspring Island to visit Savannagh's best friend Arlene, our first trip longer than an overnight. It was cold and wet and grey and WINDY; it felt more like November than August. This was not my preferred day to cross the straights. I have to admit, as I was walking down the dock, I had serious thoughts about calling it off. But Arlene's work schedule was pretty tight and didn't leave a lot of time for visiting. Plus, we'd already booked for the night at a marina on Thetis Island, so off we went. We fueled up first, and while doing so, chatted with the old salt at the gas bar, explaining we were off to Saltspring. "Today?" he asked. "Braver man than me". Thankfully Savannagh was out of earshot. Here she is, my sailor girl, still believing my story that "it will be fine". Far off is Porlier Pass, and even a wee bit of blue sky ahead. We're 2/3 of the way across, about 4 hours in. No pictures taken between home and here because just HOLDING ON took two hands. The sun is coming out and most of the big water is gone; no more big waves crashing over the bow. It's still pretty windy though; click here for a video.
We're through Porlier Pass and heading up the west side of Kuper Island. No pictures of Porlier because lots of concentration is required. Even though we went through at the slack, there are MANY underwater "issues"; rocks and reefs. GPS is a big help, but as the pass was pretty busy (as it always is at the slack), most navigation was done the old fashioned way; charts and landmarks, HOPING that what I was lining up on was actually what I was looking at on the chart! A beautiful and clearly popular little bay; have to remember this place. And into Thetis Island Marina, picked largely because the website listed a pub! It was here that the most amazing thing happened. Shortly after tying up, a couple approached us, Mary and Henry, informing us that they recognized our boat. Not "Windwards" in general, which would be unusual enough, but OUR boat, First Edition. They knew the original owner Ewing McGuire, who was also the builder. Apparently, he bought the hull and deck and moved it to a warehouse on 4th avenue, where he contracted a European carpenter to finish her. Drinks on board First Edition turned into dinner at the pub and a delightful end to a day that started out VERY iffy. 100 0132
100 0133 August 9th, leaving Thetis Harbour and headed south to Saltspring. An absolutely calm day; no sailing for a while anyway. 100 0139 100 0148 The Gulf Islands are truly stunning.
And here's the Salt Spring Island Sailing Club, where we stayed by the good graces of an old friend Hugh Preddy. SSISC is a club, meaning most all maintenance is done by the volunteer labourof the club members. It seemed pretty clear to me (and was confirmed by most that I spoke to) that Hugh did the majority of the volunteering, and it showed. This was a nice and clean and tidy and organized a facility as I've ever set foot on. 100 0154 It was pretty hot, so I rigged up some shade. Savannagh promptly plunked herself down with a Real Estate guide. 100 0155 And Sunday we were on our way home. Here we're passing Galiano Island. And this is Valdez Island. On the right is Porlier Pass. However, at this point, the current is still running pretty strong. Rather than wait around for a couple of hours for the slack, we would continue north to Gabriola Passage. If my calculations were correct, we would hit that pass at the slack.
More of the amazing erosion. Somewhere the realization sets in that at one time, the water level was MUCH higher than it is now ... 100 0161 100 0167 100 0169 100 0171
100 0172 Bye-bye Gulf Islands .. we're approaching Gabriola Passage. Gabriola Passage has no underwater dangers to concern one's self with. But it is DARNED narrow, as can be seen here, and so the currents are amazing. Man I hope it's slack because land is awefully close ... 100 0183 100 0184
100 0185 And we're through, and approaching the Straights again. Once past this island, we enter the Straights. And here the adventure begins. All along I'd been monitoring the weather channel on the VHF radio and all along, the forecast was winds from the northwest, 5 to 15; absolutely perfect. So what's with all these crashing waves? Back to the weather channel. "A small craft advisory has been issued for the Straights of Georgia south of Nanaimo, with gale force winds and 2 to 3 meter seas expected. All vessels in this area are urged to remain in harbour." Once past this island, we enter the Straights. And here the adventure begins. All along I'd been monitoring the weather channel on the VHF radio and all along, the forecast was winds from the northwest, 5 to 15; absolutely perfect. So what's with all these crashing waves? Back to the weather channel. "A small craft advisory has been issued for the Straights of Georgia south of Nanaimo, with gale force winds and 2 to 3 meter seas expected. All vessels in this area are urged to remain in harbour." They weren't kidding. We immediately hit about 7 to 8 foot seas and started to crash and roll around. No more motoring, we need to get some sail up RIGHT RIGHT NOW. Now Savannagh had lobbied to get the sail up in the calm waters inside the Gulf Islands, but I had decided against it; I didn't want the wind to be able to move me around in the narrow confines of the pass and the weather forecast said that there'd be no problem getting the sail up once we hit the Straights. In hindsight ... "OK, Savannagh, point her into the wind, I'll get the main up". Grabbed the mainsail halyard, still attached to the aft end of the boom (to keep it from slapping in the night) and crawled forward to attach it to the sail. BIG wave knocked me off my feet and almost overboard, one hand clutching the main being the only thing keeping me from going for a swim. (Mental note 1: must make better use of the D rings on the PFD; that's why I paid extra for this model of PFD after all). Sadly, while being tossed about, I let go of the halyard, which was now swinging wildly. "OH NO!" I shouted. Thankfully, it did not sky; there may be some value to old blocks heavy on the friction. I was eventually able to recover it and unwind it from the backstay, which it had wrapped around a few times, and get the main up. The second reef seemed a more than adequate amount of headsail. I now turned to Savannagh to take back the tiller and found her FREAKED .. sweating, shaking, unable to speak, FREAKED. (Mental note 2: Don't shout "OH NO" when your wife is already terrified.) She did her job though, in pretty extreme conditions, the boat alternately reaching for the sky and then going for a nose dive; she kept a heading into the wind. I might have to keep the girl. However, I am also mindful that this is three trips into the Straights with her and three good blows each time ... I added a wee bit of headsail, about the size of a towel, and we were soon sailing along at 6 knots on about as much cloth as hangs in my bathroom. Savannagh quickly regained her composure, settled, I suspect, by planning a suitable punishment for me for what I'd just put her through. Couple of hours in, the wind settled down to 15 to 20 and I thought about adding a bit more sail. (This is new; 20 knots of wind and ADDING sail) I tried hauling up the main to the first reef and got most of the way there and then stopped. OK, maybe the wind is holding it steady, I'll winch it up. Winched hard and then heard a metallic creaking. That's not good. Looked around and finally figured out I had not undone all the wraps around the backstay earlier on. The mailsail halyard was now JAMMED in place, fouled on both the topping lift as well as the backstay hardware. OK, more headsail it is, but poorly shaped, which gave a bit of weather helm. By this time, the seas are pretty big and I'm seeing 8 knots as we surf/broach down the sides (hull speed is about 6.6), the weather helm making this a bit hard to control. About an hour out of Vancouver, the winds started to really pick up again, worse than earlier in the day, while it clouded over, cooled off and got dark. OK, back to two reefs. Wish I had three reef points though, it's REALLY windy. Oh yeah, the mainsail halyard is jammed, I can't lower the sail. Crap, nothing to do but ride it out with about triple the sail I should have. About a mile from Passage Island, I decided to make for the back side; maybe in the lee of the island, I could work on lowering the mailsail. I didn't welcome the idea of trying to moor in this kind of wind with a lot of sail up. No dice. It took a whole hour and then some to fight our way that last mile, only to discover it was not really any quieter. So I slid as much of the sail as I could off the boom, tied it up in a big mass and called it a day. Motored into Thunderbird and found .. dead calm, sunny, hot and clear. It was NUTS, like walking into another room. A couple of hundred yards and a completely different climate; it was an "Alice through the looking glass" feeling. We tied up uneventfully and even though I was bagged, right away went up the mast to free the halyard. I was unwilling to ask Savannagh to do so; I'm foolish, but not stupid. Thankfully, no apparent damage was done. I'll want to have a closer look at the top backstay mount though .. that creaking is a bit of a concern. (Mental note 3: I have three spare headsail halyards and not a single spare mainsail halyard. I should probably correct that.)