It’s February. Since arriving back in the Pacific Northwest in mid-January after our holiday break, the weather seems a tad milder. I’m not freezing every day and there are longer breaks between strong wind storms. I’m knocking off significant work-related deadlines, too, so daily dockside WiFi doesn’t seem as necessary. That also means the perceived security of our Deer Harbor Marina community doesn’t seem as necessary either; perhaps it’s time to leave the dock. After all, we didn’t intend to live on a boat in a marina.
Granted, we’ve left many docks since beginning this adventure in September, but when we paid for a slip in Deer Harbor, there was a place to which to return from our weekend or several day jaunts. This month, however, paying for a slip didn’t seem to make financial sense.
Basically, I’m coming to terms with calling wherever we are “home.” I feel a bit like a gypsy, but one wise friend (thanks, Lizzy!) said I’m like a sea gypsy. That sounds so romantic, so I’m trying to go with it.
But first, back to leaving the security of the dock. It’s much like leaving anything we know…whether it’s an abusive relationship, a job that’s grown stale, you name it. What we know–the familiar–can feel safer than the unknown. But if you can muster the courage to untie the dock lines, you can experience the freedom and life that’s waiting for you.
For us, getting off the dock has meant finding little anchorages that offer protection from prevailing winds. We’ve anchored off the north side of Jones Island and explored its old growth forest. We’ve found shelter in Parks Bay off Shaw Island, which is beautiful, but you can’t go to shore here (it’s all private property), so it rates lower on the scale of preferred places.
An eagle flying over Wallace Island.
Deciding it was time to really lengthen our tether, we added Canada to our immediate itinerary, partly to catch up to our friend Steve Jones on the beginning of his journey back to his home in Craig, Alaska.
We left on Monday, February 8. It was a sunny bright day and looked perfect for making the crossing. We said our goodbyes in Deer Harbor and left the dock.
We mostly motor sailed across the Strait of Georgia. About midway, we saw some sea gulls going crazy. It looked like something was being tossed in the air. We couldn’t decide if it was a seal tossing a fish or a shark tossing a seal. Either way, it was kind of exciting for a few minutes.
We checked into Canadian Customs at Poet’s Cove in Bedwell Harbor on South Pender Island. A simple phone call did the trick. When our family was in Poet’s Cove in July 2011, it was a happening place. Not so much this time of year. A couple of people were staying at the resort, but neither of the restaurants were open. I guess they brought their own food.
The next morning, after a couple of hours of work (it was #2BookTues and Unite for Literacy blog editing day, after all), we sailed to Portland Island. It was sunny and about 60 degrees. The kind of sailing day you read about or imagine. Well, we weren’t wearing bikinis slathering on sunscreen, but Clay may have been wearing his Speedo as a base layer.
Sails took us to Portland Island where we anchored and stern tied for the first time in Royal Cove. It proved to be an enchanting place. I immediately got off the boat and went for a run that I expected to be about 1.5 miles. It turned out to be about 6.5 kilometers. Toward the end, I was running as fast as possible, paired with cautious tip toeing down slippery slopes, to avoid finding my way back to Sundown in the dark. I felt brave and elated from the adventure of being the only human on the whole island!
The next morning, despite light rain, Clay and I hiked the island and then watched Steve motor up Satellite Channel to meet us. He came up from an anchorage he likes in Tod Inlet, a place we intend to visit next time we’re in the neighborhood. We spent a couple of days exploring this delightful little island, which was a gift from England’s Princess Margaret to Canada. One could argue, it wasn’t really her island to give. First Nation peoples lived on this island for centuries as evidenced by the shell midden beaches around the perimeter. To us, it was like a fairy paradise, complete with vibrant green ferns, dense moss, grassy meadows, shadowy forests, babbling brooks, all variety of fungi, birds, seals and sea otters.
A seal party off the coast of Portland Island.
On Friday, February 12, Steve on his Black Bear and us on Sundown left this sweet spot with the intention of going to Otter Bay, where Steve thought he knew the managers of the marina. I called ahead to learn his friends no longer manage the place, so we went on to Montague Harbor on Guiliano Island. Again, our family anchored here the same year we stopped at Poet’s Cove; then, it was full of boats and activity. When Clay and I went to shore this year with the hopes of finding something or somewhere to walk, it was disappointing. We also spent a rather bumpy night at anchor in this bay that didn’t deliver as much protection from the no-predicted northerly blow that arrived.
South end of Wallace Island.
So as not to repeat that somewhat sleepless night, we pulled anchor on Saturday regardless of the forecast of up to 30mph gusts, put up only the genoa and sailed with the wind at our back the short distance (seven miles) to Wallace Island. The water was rolly with four-foot waves. We ducked into Princess Cove on the southwest side of the island to find another sweet spot where we practiced stern tying again. During the three days we called this home, we explored the island from end to end, one day in a drenching rain that soaked us to the bone (an REI raincoat fail). We saw lots of wildlife—eagles, deer (one baby was only about four feet from us), raccoon and otters. We also came across a cabin, which is part of the camp found at Conover Cove, that’s filled with handmade placards from various boaters who’ve visited there in the past. Clay made one for us and we added it to the eclectic collection. We saw one for Bella Star (another Hans Christian sailing couple) and NOLS. It was very cool!
The morning of Tuesday, February 16, Clay and I took advantage of a break in the weather (read, it wasn’t raining), and headed back south toward the states. We said goodbye to Steve, who will continue sailing north to his home in Craig, Alaska. It was a little sad, as Steve is totally off the grid and doesn’t even have a snail mail address right now. We may never meet him again, but enjoyed the time we shared together.
Steve and s/v Black Bear.
We sailed into the weather (the wind was on our nose) all the way to Port Browning on Pender Island and found it to be a charming little place. There’s a pub and café (and WiFi!) at the small marina, and a little town square with all the essentials only a half mile up the road. The people were very friendly and welcoming. We contributed to the Canadian economy daily till we left this morning (Saturday, February 20).
Our intention in leaving today was to catch a favorable wind and tide. While we found those to be true, the sea state in the Strait of Georgia wasn’t exactly an enticing sight. Instead of sailing to weather across the strait, which Clay says would have been a wet ride (due to sea spray coming over the side of the boat), we motored straight into the five- to six-foot white-capped waves to get to U.S. waters, which are only about three and half miles away (but seems much farther when the boat’s rocking and rolling). Friday Harbor, where we checked back into U.S. customs was another 12 miles. We motored on and checked in about the same time a sailboat race was finishing up there. Given it was only midday, we decided to gain more miles towards Bellingham (where we’re going to pick up Blake on Thursday and potentially get hauled out at Seaview North for a below-the-waterline inspection…just because).
With the main and genny up, we sailed east from Friday Harbor out of San Juan Channel toward Lopez Island. Our persistence was rewarded at the junction of Upright Channel when a pod of Orcas treated us to a breeching show! It’s the first one we’ve seen since setting sail and it was amazing! What wonderful creatures they are.
Once the show was over, we decided to finish up by motoring the last mile or so into Shoal Bay to set anchor before sunset. We chose this spot to have protection from tomorrow’s forecasted gale. We hope to go to Bellingham on Monday.
So, lessons learned:
Sometimes you have to let go of what feels comfortable and lengthen your tether to experience freedom.
“Rain gear” is not that unless tested against gulf island rain.
God remains good and shows up in unexpected and thrilling ways…daily.
A rainbow over Port Browning.
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