Prelude

Jack said we just needed to set a date. So he did. May 15th. If you don’t, you risk never casting off those lines. We were up before dawn and soon off.

Upon arrival at every new anchorage or dock, Jack faithfully took his little notebook from the nav station drawer and logged the essentials. Initial paragraphs are his. I was sloppy about taking notes. I jotted thoughts on nautical charts, stickies, and tiny legal pads, trusting photos to remind me where we’d been and what happened.

Precious little writing. Blame the carefully curated stack of books that kept calling me. Plus, an initial post was cautionary and de-motivating: I’d captioned some photos but was uninspired about producing text. With departure from a rare location with Internet scheduled within the hour, I signed up, signed in, and assigned the task to ChatGPT. It was done in less than a minute!

Finally back home, I wrestled with a single post covering 76 days, before breaking it into stages. So here we go. Comments and corrections are welcome!

Monday 15 May 2023 – Maple Bay Marina  0550 Departure from Port Townsend 1543 engine hours, Point Wilson smooth on strong ebb,  Slow customs at Sidney BC Van Isle Marina,  Arrival 1530 at 48º 47.7’ N 123º36’ W.

Blissful sleep in home port. Up at 4:20 AM to fill water tank and secure scooter on board.  Lines off and by 5:50 as we head out into a blinding sunrise. I hold my hand close to my face to protect my eyes but no boats are moving, the ferry has just docked, and the sea is smooth.   

Perfect crossing. We pass several harbor seals heads turned, big doe eyes looking at us and a loaded “bird boat,” –  a log with seven double-crested cormorants, and a lone California gull.  

Bird boats are reminders to stay alert for big logs we don’t want to hit; but there are none.  Perfect crossing. Passed a loaded bird boat –  a log with seven double-crested cormorants, and a lone California gull – and several harbor seals heads turned, big doe eyes toward us.

Rather than pass Canadian Customs at Bedwell Harbor with its customs kiosk up a steep ramp, we continue on to Sidney. We scoot around the spit, tie up to the extension of the fuel float right next to the customs phone!  Alas, the phone doesn’t work.  Jack tries his cell phone and is put on hold. The noon sun is unrelenting so the heat shuts down the cell phone.  I pass Jack a bowl of ice and a sandwich bag to revive the phone plus a folding chair and a hat so he can wait for someone in Ottawa to pick up.  He’s told to wait for the local rep, who checks us and our border passing history out on the phone rather than traipse down to the boat in the lunchtime heat.

We head up Satellite Channel and through the lovely Sansum Narrows, the peaks of Saltspring Island to starboard. We pass up Cowichan to check out Maple Bay.  

Maple Bay would be “bulletproof” in a storm, to use a common term meaning “360º protection from wind and waves.” However, the docks are rickety, the AC power distribution questionable, and the place has the vibe of a used boat lot. Marina staff is obviously new and getting the hang of it, the docks guy doubling as an employee of Harbour Air, whose float planes provide regular service to Vancouver, Victoria, and neighboring islands. Restrooms. showers, and laundry are fine, with maintenance outsourced to a Vancouver Island firm.

Northward passage to Nanaimo means arriving Dodd Narrows at slack so there’s time to read  The Guardian and the New York Times and, when the Weekly Local 20/20 Announcements rolls in to see the meetings and events that won’t clutter my calendar for months. We turn in early as usual. Only later do I read that the boat shop-turned-pub at the top of the docks doubles of as a museum and was a favorite of John Wayne. 

Tuesday 16 May 2023 – Nanaimo 1100 departure for slack at Dodd Narrows. 1500 Arrival at N 49.1º W 123º56’  

Seasonal return to a favorite place. Spring has come late and suddenly. Nanaimo is  a cauldron warmth and joy. The harbor master assigns us to the mostly empty float adjacent to the fishing boats. 

Nanaimo has great waterfront design. Has any other smallish town embraced such a distinctive and durable contemporary style? Granville Island and other parts of the Vancouver waterfront do a fine job of bringing together working, residential, and visiting communities in lovely, safe, walkable, and rollable spaces, too. But Nanaimo is its own place.

Trollers” fish and chips is freshly painted and under the new management of a sixtyish South Asian. I enjoy watching him train and encourage his new hires as I sit in the shade across from Morning Light waiting for our takeout order.

A new protocol at Nanaimo is locked gates during the night. I’m stymied in my early morning attempt to access the recycling center on shore. I encounter a young man who’s inadvertently found himself locked off land all night. At 6am someone opens the gate to free us.

Just before we cast off, an email from Jan Steinbock slides in! I haven’t heard from her in ages!  Jan is one of a handful of readers of Baggywrinkles’ Blog. She has just arrived at Shoal Bay, where she’s spending a week!   

Wednesday 17 May 2023 – Boho Bay, Lesquiti Island  0610 departure with 0930 arrival at 49º29.8 N 124º13’ W

Georgie Strait is flat, whiskey Golf inactive, and our passage is passage to Lesquiti Island is joyous. Although located admist the dense populations of Vancouver on one side and Vancouver Island on the other, Lesquiti has been an abode for thoroughly off-grid living for decades. Probably all it took was residents rejecting ferry service.  

Over the past couple of years, I’ve been looking at documentation of off-grid living by Canadian scholars and filmmakers, especially on water, sanitation and electrical generation systems by households, both individual and clustered. Lesquiti Island is always mentioned.  Some year we’ll poke around a bit more. There’s much less information on these technologies in the US apart from the work of the global permaculture community plus the dubious YouTube how-to videos posted by everyday enthusiasts.

It’s in the middle of a birdless stretch of the huge horizontality of Georgia Strait that lies between us and our evening anchorage that we are blessed with the appearance of a raven. It hops onto our forward port rail and then steps up on my paddlebroad to look directly into our eyes! As anyone in these parts can tell you, Raven is omen-ous.

We drop the hook half a boat length from shore, where it will stay put. The historic motor vessel Hecate Ranger  is anchored nearby.  Boho is full of logs and small debris but quiet aside from pair of Canada Geese. The male flies around bay pursuing the female, both squawking noisily. Then they sit unruffled atop the the granite walls of the bay before another round. It’s hot and sultry. I start in on my carefully curated selection of books for summer reading.  

Thursday 18 May 2023 – Hjorth Bay in Hoskyn Channel – 0615 departure for smooth passage on Georgia Strait arriving 1415 at N 50º1’ W125º.  

Smooth passage north toward Seymour Narrows. We realize we’re fully provisioned and have no need to stop in Campbell River and wait for the slack there now after discovering Okisollo Channel last year. The lovely passage wends between Quadra Island to the south and Sonora and Maurelle Islands to the north and west.  At the southeast end lies Surge Narrows with  Beazley Passage, where – our Waggoner tells us – “spring floods set eastward to 12 knots and ebbs set westward at 10 knots” 

So we need to figure out anchorage and time to run Okisollo at slack.  We try the little bay that was once a center of community for folks living in the Discovery Islands. But Post Office is closed, the floats are filled with local boats, the float homes have trees growing on them, and anchoring lacks shelter.  So we backtrack a mile to Hjorth Bay, again dropping anchor a half a boat length from shore. We wallow in the afternoon sun, sleep like logs, and enjoy the dawn. 

Friday 19 May 2023 – Shoal Bay  0945 departure for Beazley Passage in Okisollo Channel with a wait for slack at Surge Narrows. 1400 arrival at Shoal Bay at 50º27’ N 125º 21’ W

The rapids in Breazley Passage are a mere mile from our anchorage.  As usual we allow more time than necessary and end up waiting for the window of slack, said to be a short 5 to 11 minutes.  We circle outside the entrance and while checking the chart, peep in among the small islands and rocks that create the rapids.  Lo and behold there in the middle of the froth are a young man and woman sitting in a small open boat, presumably at anchor!  

As soon as we enter, an orca suddenly appears in front of us!  Jack turns to starboard as the whale slips to port.  As we exit the turbulence, we share broad smiles with the couple in the boat.  They are the embodiment of “local knowledge.”  They know the ropes – the direction and strenght currents, when wildlife appears to feed in riled waters, where the bottom will catch an anchor, and how to successfully manage maneuvers others would dare not attempt. “Local knowledge” is the official term used in the U.S. Coast Pilot and the Canadian Sailing Directions to indicate what you may observe but shouldn’t do.  It’s a warning not to follow local boats if official charts, instructions, and aids to navigation say otherwise. 

It’s always a thrill to arrive in Nodales Channel, then turn left into Cordero Channel, marvel as vista out across Philips Arm opens up, and emerge expectantly from around the island blocking the view into lovely Shoal Bay.  Will there be a place at the wharf?  We see a single blue sailboat. Not even Bessie, the boat of resident owners Mark and Cynthia is there. We tie up.  

I’ve been out of touch with Jan, a fellow member of the Oregon Women’s Sailing Association, but have had time to ponder why she is traveling alone. Suddenly she is there on the dock.  I jump out and while hugging her, ask, “Is Donnie is still with us?”  She shakes her head and we both start to cry.  

Donnie was so full of life and nourished by a huge sense of adventure.  I’d heard from him relatively recently, the annual invitation to gather with his team at Portland’s annual ALS march.  He and Jan loved to sail and travel. A legendary cruise brought them to the Broughtons, where a visit to the deserted and now protected village of Mamalilicula First Nation – where we’ve never been – was among their most vivid memories. When they drove up from Portland to see us to see us several years, they stayed at The Swan. We had dinner at Doc’s in Point Hudson, with Donnie telling stories between bites of food and gulps of air from his respirator.  

He passed after deciding ‘to stop’, as Jan put it.  The future would no longer allow them to travel together. Mindfully alert, his body was failing. They had a rich life together, surrounded by family and grandkids. I get it about caregiving but was surprised that even for in the ALS community, it’s so hard to find caregivers outside of the family.  Jan’s going to be okay.    She flows deep and calm. It was wonderful to be with her and I look forward to many more reunions. 

Saturday 20 May 2023 – Port Neville  0915 departure for Green Point Rapids, Wellbore Channel, and via Whirlpool Rapids. 1350 Arrival N 50º31’ W 126º 01′

Though I’m reluctant to leave Shoal Bay, engine mysteries have appeared and we are now beyond most marine services. The alternator appears not to be charging. And yes, I feel responsible. Back during my preparatory labors in Port Townsend, it had taken me forever to figure out the wrench-socket-plus-extender needed to remove the cover protecting the fan belt on the engine. (I’m still mad that girls were not allowed to take shop back in the day when boys were learning basic stills.) Not finding the make, model, and serial number of the alternator, I was unable to add it to my lengthy list of parts. Worse, I figured it must be a Balmar, which Nordic Tugs normally paired with our Cummins engine and for which I’d found and printed the manual.   

I favor heading back south to Campbell River but Jack figures we might be able to run the necessary electronics and communications equipment by turning on the generator. Dock neighbor Cecil of the blue sailboat confirms that this should work so the next morning we take off.  It’s a long long way to Port McNeill.

We manage the set of three rapids and get out into Johnstone Strait.  The weather is snotty, green water’s coming over the bow and the windshield wipers are struggling to keep up.  But we persevere and go all the way to Port Neville.  We know anchoring here is a pain in the neck. The Waggoner suggests dropping the hook in Baresides Bay, directly south of the MSh symbol on Charts 3545 and 3564 where you will be in 15 feet of water at zero tide and 200 feet from shore. Excellent holding. Not the most protected but out of the words of westerly winds. So it is. We breathe, have a nice supper, and rock and roll to noisy sleep as the waves hit the bow of the V-berth.

I finish Robin Wall Kimmerer’s Braiding Sweetgrass.  It’s the beautiful Young Adult version chosen for this winter’s Port Townsend Community Read.I feel a profound sense of gratitude, inspired by the Community Read, by the librarian who thrust the free copy into my hands, by shelter from the storm replete with time to read, and perhaps by my new awareness of the non-human people who have inhabited our continent for millennia.

Sunday 21 May 2021 – Port McNeill  0615 departure, arriving 1130 at N 50º35’ W 127º 05’

We just go for it. Johnstone is slightly calmer and Morning Light does her thing. 

Just out of Port McNeil we are waked by three, big fast power boats. Don’t they know that this area serving Telegraph Cove, Alert Bay, and Malcolm Island is filled with local small boat traffic?  We arrive at North Island Marina to get fuel and discover there is no moorage thanks to the arrival of two flotillas. So we move to the Municipal Marina next door.  The weather is terrible. After rocking around for 24-hours, a kindly dock attendant helps us move to a more sheltered slip. It’s Victoria Day and so we have some forced respite before a four day work week.  

On my way to pay moorage on Tuesday morning, I pass a signboard announcing local businesses. What a relief to see this among them: Aussie Marine Diesel – Authorized Cummins Specialists. 

We manage our patience through the long weekend and Jack place his call at 9 am sharp on Tuesday morning. The same day, a guy in coveralls appeared dockside, his right hand on his heart. “Whew. Everybody needs repairs today! I had to cover this up,” he said, revealing the Aussi logo of a bulldog with a wrench in its mouth.

Tyrell confesses that he works mostly on the logging side of the business, which is fine with us. Big diesel engines have huge commonalities across uses and the years. On the first day of the Wooden Boat Festival, I look for the biggest, oldest work boats, knowing I’m likely to get a great story from a seasoned mechanic.

Tyrell is from Port Alice, a tiny town deep in the heart of North Vancouver Island. By boat, it’s only accessible via the Quatsino Sound on the West Coast. By road, however, one can get there by BC Transit! He’s soon checking out all the battery banks, talking all the time so Jack and I follow, his multimeter moving with impressive speed. We loosen the alternator just enough to see it’s a Delco-Remy and decipher letters and numbers needed which model.

Although I have a page and a half of model and serial numbers for other things on the boat, I’d never identified the alternator. I figured it must be the original Balmar installed in 2003 and duly download that manual. So there’s nobody but me to blame – though with the disclaimer that I was raised a girl in the 1950s, swore off car ownership, and spent most of my adult life in places around the developing world where it’s unethical to pick up a wrench if there is someone nearby who knows what to do and needs the business. I’d struggled with how to get the cover off the fan belt for ten days back in PT before learning that hardware stores have extensions for socket wrenches.

Let’s remember that Morning Light came into our lives with the understanding that no one would work in the engine room without my being there. We’d be going to Alaska without a sail! Why not pay good mechanics to take a little extra time and show me the way?

On Friday morning, Scotty-the-boss himself calls and comes. Over the past week, others have confirmed his creds. He’s a big, modestly confident, amiable Aussi, a redhead with a Mohawk, nose ring, tongue stud, and a tattoo of the bulldog logo on the inside of his massive right forearm.

Using Tyrell’s notes he’s figured out our dilemma. It’s got to the weird wire that goes to an external Balmar regulator. Most Balmars have internal regulators but our after-market Delco-Remy doesn’t. And with Tyrell, we’d missed a single sloppy connection. “Automotive, says Scotty scornfully.”

He asks for a kitchen knife to trim the wires and matches to shrink the sheath. He’s old school, young but started early. He doesn’t haul a cart of tools but carries a lot in his head and muscle memory, constantly building on it.