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I’d been intrigued by descriptions of Princess Louisa Inlet. Who could resist these words from Erle Stanley Gardner (best known for writing the Perry Mason detective novels) in his book ‘Log of a Landlubber’:

‘There is no use describing that inlet. Perhaps an atheist could view it and remain an atheist, but I doubt it’

‘There is a calm tranquillity which stretches from the smooth surface of the reflecting water straight up into infinity. The deep calm of eternal silence is only disturbed by the muffled roar of throbbing waterfalls as they plunge down the sheer cliffs’

‘There is no scenery in the world that can beat it. Not that I’ve seen the rest of the world. I don’t need to, I’ve seen Princess Louisa Inlet’.

High praise indeed, so when Paul suggested I look up some places to visit as we continued along the route to Sointula, it was the first place I mentioned. The beauty of Back Eddy would be hard to beat so our expectations were high as we motored past forested, snow-peaked mountains on the foggy morning that Paul turned 60.

By the time we reached Jervis Inlet, the views had grown steadily more breath-taking, aided by the afternoon sun’s rays and a clear blue sky.

The waterfall that features in so many of the descriptions lies at the head of the inlet. Called Chatterbox Falls, it’s the result of the Loquilts River tumbling its contents 120 feet over the top of the granite-walled gorge. The noise of it grew louder as we approached the jetty; it was a truly spectacular sight – not enough to convert us to religion but certainly awe-inspiring. A bride and groom were posing for pictures as we tied our lines – the seaplane they’d arrived on, which is the only other way to access this paradise, was just in front of us. There were only three other boats apart from us but the place gets very crowded during the summer months.

We took an early evening walk along the short woodland path through thick trees covered with moss to have a closer look at the falls, and naturally took the opportunity to take plenty of photos. The fine mist created by the torrent coated us in a layer of water as we stood by the rocks at the bottom. A sign nearby warned against climbing the rocks and provided stark statistics about the number of deaths that resulted in those who had failed to heed the warning. It was made all the more chilling by the fact that the number could be easily changed if others died.  A memorial pavilion in honour of James Macdonald provides a small circular area for visitors to light a fire with facilities for barbecues and picnics.

All this was made possible by the legacy of the man who bought the land surrounding the falls in 1927. Viewing himself only as a mere ‘custodian’ of the ‘beautiful, peaceful haven’ James F Macdonald loved the place so much that in 1953 he declared his wish that it should never be commercialised. He stated that the property should be turned over to yachtsmen of the Northwest so they could carry on enjoying the beauty ‘unspoiled by the hand of man’. It’s thought that the name Louisa was in honour of Queen Victoria’s fourth daughter Louise who had spent three months in Victoria, British Columbia in 1876, but the actual source is uncertain.

We met a Canadian father and son on our way back to the boat in the dusky twilight. It was their first visit too and they told us they planned to sit on the pontoon with their portable camp fire and consume a few drinks far into the night. All in all not a bad place for Paul to spend his milestone birthday.

The following day, we were invited onto a super-yacht called ToyBox 2 by two British ladies who had clearly spent the afternoon enjoying more than a few drinks. Melanie, an ex-pat from Nottingham had won the trip, complete with captain, in an auction and as her friend Sue from Preston was on a visit with her husband, they had joined her. All the other visitors on the jetty had been invited. It was a good chance to have a peek at the luxurious interior of such a huge yacht and to chat to the other people. The drink carried on flowing and after a couple of hours it was suggested we walk to the memorial pavilion where the captain had lit a fire and we could sit and drink in the warmth of the flames. A lovely experience, especially walking through the dark wood using our phones’ flashlight to see our way. I think Paul and I remained the most sober of the whole group. On the jetty we all stopped to look at the wonderful sight of the phosphorescence in the water. It was just like fairy lights moving underwater – an amazing sight.

We went back through the picturesque Malibu Rapids to return to Egmont on the 20th September. Paul was keen to do the forest walk to the delightfully named Skookumchuk Rapids that Jim (who would be looking after Sister Midnight in the winter) had told us about when we’d met him in Egmont the previous week.

We ended up rafting up to the same boat Jim had rafted to on a drizzly, chilly afternoon that had a definite autumnal, or fall, feel to it. The rain carried on through the night and as we didn’t have to leave until 3 to see the rapids at their best, I hoped it would have stopped by then. It didn’t. We set off anyway and once under cover of the trees they provided adequate shelter. The walk was fabulous. We found ourselves in an atmospheric, fairy-tale forest that was just wonderful. The trees were tall, thick and lush, their branches covered in hanging green moss that made them look for all the world as if they’d been dressed in felt ribbons. The path was littered with fallen trunks and the intricate patterns formed by the roots were fascinating. Ferns and moss with their varying shades of green on the forest floor added to the spectacle.

A frog startled me when it leapt across our path but the only other wildlife we saw were small birds – oh and a Garter snake held by one of a group of students we met on the trail who was trying to scare one of the girls with it.

Paul had asked the guy in the shop about the risk of bears but he said that although they are in there no sightings had ever been reported in the forest. Nevertheless it was easy to imagine one in that setting. It would have been nice to walk in late afternoon sunshine but the drizzly, misty overcast weather did create a great forest atmosphere.  We emerged an hour later from the shelter of the trees onto a rock-covered shore where the rapids were in full flow. A few other people were there taking pictures and clambering over the rocks for a closer look. A lady we’d met on the way had told us that there was a sea lion leaping around in the waves and that was what I set off to look for. I spotted it almost straight away jumping around in the foamy water, searching for fish I expect. A couple of motor boats crossed the swirling mass; it was clear they needed a fair bit of power to avoid being tossed around by the force of the water.  The rain began to fall heavily as we stood and watched and people slowly drifted off until we were the only two left. The rain was starting to seep through my clothes so I waited under the trees until Paul had finished filming. By the time we reached the boat, it was beginning to get dark and we were soaked through and feeling cold. Luckily the heating had been left on so it was wonderfully warm and welcoming inside.

The rain fell all night and after a brief respite, began again late morning as we made our way to the small town of Lund. Lund reminded me of highland villages in Scotland I’d visited in the 90s, and strangely enough there was a poster advertising a ceilidh in the hotel, due to take place that night. It wasn’t long before we heard the musicians practising for it as the sound of bagpipes tuning up reached our ears. The band were all female and dressed in full Scottish regalia. It made for quite a surreal sight and sound in the tiny Canadian resort. Lund’s claim to fame is that it’s the northern terminus of the world’s longest highway. The Pacific Coastal Route (101) stretches an impressive 25,000-kilometre route along the western coasts of the Americas to its southern end in Puerto Montt, Chile. Some pics below of quaint Lund.

On we journeyed, to Prideaux Haven and Pendrell Sound via Desolation Sound, a place that definitely belies its name, which was taken from Captain Vancouver’s description in 1792: ‘Our residence here was truly forlorn; an awful silence pervaded the gloomy forest, whilst animated nature seemed to have deserted the neighbouring country.’ This had more to do with his discouragement at the number of dead-end inlets he had recently explored than the surroundings, however. We found it pleasing and pretty, with no sense of desolation in the view from our anchorage. In fact, all the anchorages we spent the night in were beautiful, as the pictures show. We explored the shore in Pendrell Sound and came across a house that had suffered from the weather at some point as half of it had collapsed. A drawer and other household items were floating in the water so it was clearly recent but there was no sign of anyone in the house. On the shore itself, there was evidence of fires from the blackened tree trunks and piles of ashes we saw.

At Teakerne Arm on the 25th September we took a stern line ashore as the water is far too deep to anchor. Two magnificent waterfalls dominate the view in this bay and we were the only visitors on a warm, sunny and clear afternoon. There was a trail leading to the top of the cliff so we were able to sit and watch the water tumbling down perched on the edge of an alarmingly sheer drop.

Our next stop was at a place called Blind Channel Resort and it soon became high on my list of the most beautiful places I have seen on my travels so far. To get there we had to cross no less than four sets of rapids and timing was crucial for each one. There was also the added hazard of huge stray logs in the water which we were keen to avoid, so I took position on deck to watch out for them. The fourth crossing was Greene Point which felt decidedly more turbulent than any of the other rapids; I felt the boat pulling away from the direction Paul was steering in quite a few times. Paul told me later that he’d forgotten to factor in that one so we’d actually crossed them at full flood!

Blind Channel,  presumably named because of the blind spots on either side of its bay, came into view about 3pm on 26th September and grew more attractive the closer we got.

We spent three great days here, making the most of the natural surroundings by strolling on the beach and following the woodland trails to look at the 800 year old Big Cedar, supposedly the largest tree in Canada with a staggering 16 foot diameter. The path winds its way through a magnificent 90 year-old second growth forest of various tall tree species, lush forest plants and babbling brooks.

Jonathan Raban had stopped here in the 90s and remarked that it looked like classic bear territory. He had walked along a forest path to look for a phone ringing his boat bell to scare them away. We had in fact acquired a couple of ‘bear bells’ by now but we still haven’t used them. Anyway the only wildlife we saw during our walks was a squirrel, a woodpecker (amazing to watch it pecking at the tree trunk), and a tiny field mouse. Later, from our pontoon we spotted a sea otter basking on the wood of the opposite pontoon and crept slowly towards it to get a better look. Paul took some great video shots of it for his blog post. I loved the peace and natural surroundings of Blind Channel and I liked the resort owners, too. It would have been easy to spend more time there, but we were aware there would be more to see further along the Inside Passage.

We anchored at Forward Bay on the 29th September on water so still it was like a mirror. A huge bird sat on a branch on the nearby shore and seemed to be watching us from the time we anchored at 3o’clock until just before sunset. I had been watching to see it fly away but typically it flew while I was otherwise occupied and I missed it. Bears have definitely been spotted in this area according to Paul’s anchorage guide; alas, we didn’t see any.

As we prepared to leave for Port Neville, the engine, which had given a few warnings of its possible failure, refused to start and Paul had to take it apart to see if he could fix the fault. My role was to pass things to him in the manner of attendant to surgeon. This was tricky when he called for things like ‘mole grips’ and ‘long-nosed pliers’ and I had no idea what they looked like. I listened to his various cries of triumph, despondency, frustration and enlightenment and wondered if we would be staying another night. Finally, three hours later than intended, we motored off in drizzly, grey, cold weather for the three hour trip to Port Neville arriving at 3pm. There is a visitor jetty there and only one boat was tied to it so with Paul instructing me, I took us slowly in and Paul jumped off to tie the lines. It’s only the second time I’ve done that bit and I was pleased it went so well. The rain was heavy by the time we were settled and the deserted shop on Port Neville looked eerie in the rainy twilight. I couldn’t help imagining what it must be like in the empty rooms. There are quite a few other dwellings on the island but all empty now the summer season is over so totally uninhabited. I think if the weather hadn’t been so awful I would have been sorely tempted to have a wander around.

Alert Bay was our final stop before Sointula and we spent a couple of nights there. I will always think of it as Raven Island although it’s actually on Cormorant Island and claims to be ‘Home of the Killer Whale’. Ravens were everywhere, and very vocal, too. Their piercing cries compete with those of seagulls and crows to create quite a cacophony of sound. Alert Bay is home to the Namgis and Kwakwaka’wakw (try pronouncing that word!) First Nation tribes and they form the largest population on the island. There are over 40 totem poles on the island and a leaflet we picked up in the visitor centre lists them all with detailed explanations. We saw a fair few of them during our walk and made a point of seeing the world’s tallest one at 173 feet high. A visit to the U’mista Cultural Centre provided an invaluable array of information about the culture, history and future of First Nation Tribes and an interesting display of traditional and contemporary masks and other artefacts. It had a great gift shop too.

The other highlight on the island was the ecological park. This is a natural swamp fed by an underground spring. Trees were killed when a dam built to store water for the cannery caused the springs to flood the area. The tall, naked trees now provide perches for bald eagles and ravens and is a paradise for birdwatchers and botanists. There is a boardwalk enabling people to walk across the swamp which made for an enjoyable excursion and a closer look at the ecosystem of the swamp.

We were in Sointula on Malcolm Island by October the 4^th where the boat will now stay until Spring next year. As I type, it’s almost time for us to leave Canada and fly back to the UK. We have grown very fond of Sointula in the week that we’ve been here. It’s been made all the more special by the warm and friendly welcome we’ve received from Jim, who will be looking after the boat during the winter, and his wife Ivana. They kindly invited us to their thanksgiving dinner last Sunday where we enjoyed a delicious feast and met two of their friends in their lovely home on the waterfront. I can honestly say I love it here and will miss it when we leave. That said, I’m looking forward to catching up with family and friends in the UK next week. It’s good to know we’ll be returning here in 2019.  I just hope I get to see a bear next time! Final pictures for this year from me below, of gorgeous Sointula.

 

We made the most of having a car for a couple of days before we left the marina in Seattle’s Elliott Bay. Our gas canisters got refilled in a place about 20 miles away which meant we got to see a bit of rural Seattle on the way. Anything else heavy and bulky was bought, loaded up or dropped off for repair, while weighty provisions were bought and stowed on the first day we had it, so that we were free to drive to Snoqualmie Falls the following day. Snoqualmie was recommended as an excursion in the ‘Mountain Getaways’ section on my Kindle travel guide. Described as a location the Native Americans regarded as sacred, the falls are 268 feet high and mark the place where the Snoqualmie River begins its descent to the sea. With breathtaking views from an observation deck and short hikes in the surrounding woodlands, it sounded very appealing.

We arrived there around noon on a hot, sunny day after driving about 30 miles east from Seattle. Again, it was a delight to drive through Washington State’s countryside, especially as we drew nearer to Snoqualmie where the forest was thick, colourful and lush and the Cascade Mountains loomed in the distance. The Falls were a tremendous sight, it was almost hypnotic to stand and watch them – a timeless and totally natural spectacle. We took a lot of pictures and read all the information boards before setting off to attempt the recommended hike to the lower observation deck. Here, we met with disappointment, however. Although Paul was lots better, he didn’t feel up to the effort the sign (pictured below) warned of, and since it was very hot by then, neither did I!

We compromised and walked down a small part of the trail until we could see just how steep the descent was – the path wound a long way down in a spiral pattern. Two ladies on their way back were getting their breath back on a bench and one look at their faces showed the trial they’d experienced. The thought of climbing that hill in the heat was off-putting and I was relieved to turn back towards the obligatory gift shop. Inside, the products on sale reminded me of the other claim to fame in the area. Nearby, the sumptuous Salish Lodge and Spa, served as the ‘Great Northern Hotel’ in David Lynch’s popular television drama ‘Twin Peaks’. I hadn’t watched it but Paul was a huge fan, so when we learned that the location for the show’s enigmatic introduction (a sign bearing the words ‘Welcome to Twin Peaks’) was a few miles away we thought it was definitely worth the trip to see it. The route took us through a quaint little town with signs advertising The Northwest Railway Museum and as it was well past lunchtime we stopped to have a bite to eat and check out the museum. The ‘museum’ was spread out along the street with some fascinating, iconic locomotives, freight cars and railroad artefacts to look at. It was possible to board a few of the trains and I loved climbing into the engine compartment of a ‘Casey Jones’ (for anyone who remembers that show) one, and several others that were familiar from vintage American TV programmes and films.

We found the exact spot where the Twin Peaks sign should have been but a bit of internet searching revealed that the sign had been removed. Like the ‘Penny Lane’ sign in Liverpool, fans kept stealing it! Still, the bend in the road was easily recognisable and we took some pictures to compare online later. Further along the road, it grew more scenic with steep, forested hills leading down to shallow streams where people were paddling and picnicking. We stopped for a while to dip our feet in the cool water and admire the pretty setting.

I had a rather ungainly entry to Port Townsend a couple of days later, when I went to jump off at the fuel dock pontoon to tie the midship line. I caught my hip on the wooden fender board on the port side and fell onto the pontoon at the feet of the guy who had come to assist us! The only injury sustained was to my pride I’m pleased to say. Port Townsend hosts a Wooden Boat Festival each year and we would be staying at Boat Haven Marina for three days to see as much of it as we could.

It was early evening and drizzling with rain on our first night there. The festival would be closing for the day but we thought it would be good to walk there and have a look around. Halfway along the long, straight road we were asked if we wanted a lift to town by an elderly lady driving a golf cart type of vehicle. We gratefully accepted, thinking it was a free shuttle laid on for the festival. She was very chatty and full of local information and questions about our plans and travels. She gave us her card and told us to call her if we needed a lift back…and then asked for the $6 dollar fee! She will do well with the festival-goers I think. The festival’s first full day was winding down when we got there so we didn’t have to pay to walk in. There was still plenty to see, and the live music tent had a band playing with a bar selling beer, wine and soft drinks. Some stalls were still open and several food shacks were serving so we had a slow amble around getting a feel for the place.

Some of the boats were open and available to look around but we thought we’d save that for daylight. We bought festival food and ate it listening to the band and watching the dancing. The atmosphere was great, despite the inclement weather and I looked forward to a full day there the next day. We walked back in the dark following the main street through the centre of town. It was lively with bars and restaurants, well-lit shops and some historic-looking buildings…and some large bookshops.

We caught the much cheaper festival shuttle bus the following morning. The rain had stopped and it looked set to be a fine day. Once we’d paid the $20 admission fee we agreed to wander separately around the site and meet up later. There were a few talks on that interested Paul that wouldn’t do much for me, and I could spend as long as I wanted looking at ‘stuff’ on sale. There was plenty to look at, watch and listen to – and that was before we walked the pontoons to look at the wooden boats. It was great to see the replica of Joshua Slocum’s boat ‘Spray’, which turned out to be a lot larger than I’d imagined when reading his account of his solo round the world voyage in 1895. The rain held off until early evening which was lucky for stallholders and festival goers alike as it would have been damp, chilly and muddy underfoot as the site had few places to shelter.

On Sunday 9th, the festival’s final day, we decided we’d seen pretty much all we needed to see on the site and since it would be winding down at 3pm it seemed wasteful to pay another $20. It was cold and drizzly too, so an ideal museum-visiting day. The town’s museum was offering a discount for festival goers and even though we didn’t have proof of our attendance the previous day, the friendly staff member let us in at the reduced price. The museum was a delight, despite its small size. Housed on the main street in an old building that used to include the town jail, it was built in 1891 and had a wealth of fascinating photographs and information about the town.  I was thrilled by the fact that a favourite writer of mine, Jack London, had once cavorted drunkenly down the streets and ended up spending a night in one of the cells.

 

Several other establishments and sites had a colourful history associated with their locations. The Palace Hotel used to be a ‘rooming house’ (brothel) and The Rose Theatre, built in 1907 as a vaudeville house still hosts plays, ballets and operas and also operates as a cinema, or movie house as they are called here. Point Hudson, on the southeast corner of the town was a Native American seasonal camp and also the site of Captain Vancouver’s 1792 landing; it is now Port Hudson Marina and R V Park.

The Rose Theatre was a lovely looking old building that just cried out to be explored further. We looked at the films being shown on the display boards outside and on impulse, decided to see one later that evening called ‘Crazy Rich Asians’. Making a real night out of it, we had a drink in a bar overlooking the harbour, went for a walk along the hilly path above the town and then had dinner in a Thai restaurant before the film. The interior of the theatre was stunning. It was a real treat to sit on comfortable sofas with a glass of wine –  served in a glass, not disposable plastic – instead of the impersonal and often confusing layout of multiplex cinemas. It was even possible to stretch your legs out on the chairs and sofas. The film was good, too in an ‘Asian romcom’ way.

We both loved Port Townsend. Paul said he could happily have spent weeks there. It’s a haven for boat owners, with its specialist marine workshops and chandleries. The shops were charmingly unique and the day before we had to leave, I spent a whole afternoon browsing them and the bookshops as well as picking out the old buildings described in the museum and imagining them as they used to be.

We were back in Canada by the middle of September. Previously, we had stayed at Sidney Spit in the Haro Strait, but this time we spent a couple of days in the town of Sidney itself. Both of us found it a bit lacking in something. I think ‘manufactured’ is the best word to apply to it. We had probably been spoiled by the elegance and history of Port Townsend. It did have some very impressive bookshops though, so I can forgive its characterless gift shops and uninspiring hotels and restaurants. The Haunted Bookshop was an especially wonderful place. On the showery morning I visited, the shopkeeper and I were the only people inside, but unfortunately I didn’t see a ghost.

For my birthday on the 14th, we moved to Tsehum Harbour for a stay in Van Isle Marina. It’s a pleasant, family-owned operation with a restaurant, an office, a few workshops and little else since Sidney Town is less than a mile away. Luckily the restaurant had a good menu and we booked a table for the evening. Paul enjoyed a seafood meal and they kindly adapted the vegetarian option into a vegan curried squash and lentil meal which was delicious. We ate with a view overlooking the marina just as the sun set.

Our next port of call was the intriguingly named Pirate’s Cove – straight out of an Enid Blyton story! No pirates spotted, just more rain and a warning in our ‘Best Anchorages of The Inside Passage’ guide that it would be a tricky and challenging task to anchor, involving tying a stern line to the shore. Other deficiencies mentioned were: an entrance guarded by a long narrow reef with a rock that juts out which has grazed the hull of many boats, strong NW winds that could make for an uncomfortable night and oozy mud that causes many boats’ anchors to drag. Thankfully, the ‘charismatic occult leader’, Brother XII who set up a commune on DeCourcy Island in the 1930s, and who used to shoot anyone who dared venture near his island uninvited is no longer in residence. He apparently deserted his followers, after having liberated them from their money and gold (in true pirate fashion) and took off for a life Switzerland. Anchoring was unproblematic and there was no NW wind to trouble us. We did tie a stern line to the shore, but gratefully accepted the help of a neighbouring yacht owner, who saved us the task of getting the dinghy out. The rain continued all evening, so with the heating on and the temperature dropping we had an autumnal meal of burgers, mash and beans and a cosy evening in.

From Pirate’s Cove we motored to an anchorage at Boho Bay via Dodd Narrows and from there to Back Eddy Resort, watching the surroundings grow evermore picturesque as we drew closer to the mountains. Initially intending to stop just to get fuel, Back Eddy turned out to be such an attractive place we decided to stay the night. The tiny village of Egmont was a short walk away and the lady who checked us in told us it has the smallest Post Office in Canada so naturally, that had to be checked out. It was a clear and sunny afternoon after the recent rain, and the light was beautiful as we walked around the harbour. As always, the photos don’t quite capture the beauty of the place but they give a good idea.

Paul’s birthday was the next day, but as we planned to be at anchor, we had his birthday meal in the pub/restaurant opposite the pontoon.

Our journey along the Inside Passage would continue with stops at more destinations with storybook names. We were bound for one which has several claims to be the most beautiful setting of them all: Princess Louisa Inlet.

 

Sunset last night

Starter Motor Problems

If you’re not likely to get excited by Starter motors or Rust, you can skip this post altogether as it’s really dull

A couple of times in the last week the starter motor failed to start the engine. The Starter motor whirred away very fast, but wasn’t connecting to the engine, so the engine couldn’t start.

The bible on such matters, Nigel Calder’s maintenance book suggested tapping it with a hammer, I had already tried this without any luck, but he wisely suggested to do it while the starter was turning. This worked on two occasions, but today it had no effect.

Being anchored in a very quiet deserted calm bay, with no phone signal, no harbours within 20 miles we were basically stuffed, the only option being to put out a pan pan on the VHF and hope one of the passing boats 15 miles away in the Johnstone Strait would hear. I could just make out the weather forecast on the VHF and they were predicting a gale for later in the day so I had hoped to be at our next port before then.

So it was that I started the task of extracting the starter motor from the engine. Mr Calder had explained the principle of the spiral grove that the cog runs along so that centrifugal force causes it to engage, and that I probably just needed to clean that up and all would be ok.

I took a photo of the wiring, so I could put it all back together, removed the connections, and unbolted the three bolts holding it in. Of course it wouldn’t come out, I tapped it with the hammer, tried to rotate it, but all to no avail. Back to Mr Calders book, and sure enough he says if it won’t come out, give it a ‘smart tap with a hammer to free it’. Obviously I must have been doing ‘dumb taps’. So I returned with the hammer and gave it the smartest tap I could muster and sure enough it moved a little and I could easily yank it out. At this point I could see a trail of dried saltwater/rust all the way from the salt water cooling pump down to area around the starter. I had not been able to see this from other angles, but assumed it was related to the small leak I had spotted on the front of the pump the other day. Minor, but I planned to fix this when I do the engine service next week.

Next my favourite part, stripping it down. I love taking mechanical things apart, but usually this is only when they are disposable, as I can rarely put them back together properly. This time I was careful to mark what went where and to take pictures where there might be doubt / memory loss later.

Looking at the motor it was clear what the book said about rust being the problem. The engaging mechanism, I think this might be called the Bendix, was quite rusty, as was the whole area that sat under the engines big cog (Flywheel?). Mr Calder explains that sea water in the bilge under the engine can splash up and the flywheel can squirt it all around and in particular into the starter motor. More on this later.

I was able to take it all apart quite easily, clean it up, and with a combination of WD40, oil then grease, have the cogs that had initially seemed almost seized, to be whizzing around now with no problem.

It only took 3 attempts to reassemble, just because bolts can all look the same doesn’t actually mean they are!

I was feeling quite confident the job was done, next I had to fit the starter back into the engine, lots of jiggling and it eventually was back bolted to the engine, now the big problem was what to do with the wires. Looking at the photo didn’t help, it didn’t cover the area I needed. There where two studs coming out of the back of the starter that didn’t seem to have wires connected to them, yet I had removed the nuts off them so they must have connections, oh dear. Lots of staring at them, reading manuals and checking in the bible didn’t enlighten me, so I connected the wires I was sure about, i.e. the big red ones that go to the solenoid, and tried the starter.

Voila, the engine spun into life, I shut it down, and then I realised there was a sound of trickling water, as if the tap had been left on, Kathy could hear it as well from the other end of the cabin. Looking into the engine, water was trickling from under the water pump and down the side of the engine. So now I knew the cause of the starter motor rust problem, and felt happier, but what was wrong with the pump?

The Water Pump.
This guy pumps sea water around the heat exchanger which cools the fresh water pumped around the engine, and he was leaking a lot.

I decided to leave it until we reached another port where I could get to help if needed, I figured it had been leaking for a few days, the engine was staying cool, so we could continue.
Once we arrived in Alert Bay, with wifi and shops/ferry to a big town, I had a go at repairing the pump. As always there’s always one fastener that won’t budge, and it was a big bolt that had previously had its head rounded off. It took me an hour to get this out, then I found I didn’t have a spare so had to fabricate one from some studding.

The pump cleaned up ok, but it took a while to find the correct pump in the workshop manual as there are two different types used depending on age.Further inspection revealed that I didn’t have any spares, even though I couldn’t see any wear on the rubber o-ring that was in there, and the diagram didn’t show any other seals. I filled the chamber with water and nothing dripped out. I wondered if perhaps the pipes feeding/taking water to the pump were leaking at the join and the water being squirted to the back of the pump. Unlikely, but it was my only hope for a quick repair.
Before refitting the pump I tried to clear up the areas the salty sea had been spraying. Cleaning the hose that feeds water into the transmission oil cooler saw water squirting out, closer inspection revealed a hole in the cooler, caused I expect by the leak above.

For now I have put some tape over the hole, I’m going to have to replace the cooler at some point soon.
Once it was cleaned and re-assembled I started her up. Usually it takes a while to prime, but this time the water was flowing rapidly out to the exhaust, however it was still running out of the back of the pump as well.

I’m going to have to take the next trip to Sointula, our final destination this year, carefully. When I return in April next year I shall bring a new pump and cooler.
I may need to start thinking about a new engine, but that’s a pricey game I don’t want just yet.

Alert Bay is a fascinating place with a great First Nation Cultural centre, More on that in another post. The town is old and the harbours have some very interesting boats, and a lot of very sad neglected ones too.

Paul Collister

After our trip to Princess Louisa Inlet we returned to Egmont, this time to the public wharf where I messed up the mooring, I had assumed that as the tide was flooding I would be pushed away from the boat we were rafting to, so got really close, as it turned out the tide was running the other way, so my bow was pushed onto the boats quarter, and my stern was soon pushed onto the boat behind him. How embarrassing, I thought I was getting better at this. However the tide wasn’t strong and we pushed off, the fenders prevented any damage, but as always some part of my boat wanted to leave me for the other boat, and in this case it was the barbeque that was trying to merge with some steelwork on the other boat. A good push and we were all sorted. The reason the current was the opposite to what I expected was due to it reversing direction near the shore, I should have considered this especially given the name of the marina next door ‘BackEddy Marina’.
The other thing I have learnt here is that often the top of the water, sometimes a foot or more deep can be freshwater that doesnt mix with the saltwater below, and this can cause confusion in currents. Logs can also float on the saltwater and be a foot or more under the surface, but this boat has such a large and deep underwater surface, that it really can grip the currents there that you often don’t see on the surface.

We decided to spend an extra day and visit the Sechelt/Skookumchuck rapids, which were going to be running at 14 knots, if I couldn’t motor through one, at least I could watch it.
It was a great one hour walk through a forest to get there.

The rapids were impressive, and a few fast motor boats were racing back and forth through them, I guess it can get boring around here.

From Egmont we headed northwest to Lund, the only place with a decent grocery store and fuel supply before we headed into Desolation sound.

Like most places we visited, being in the shoulder season it was quiet and we had a whole pontoon to ourselves. For some reason I don’t understand, there was a Scottish Ceilidh planned for that night in the pub, you can see the musicians with their bagpipes below. We opted for a lovely restaurant the other side of the cove and sadly missed the bagpipes 😉

We stayed an extra night here as well as it was so peaceful and relaxing, but soon enough we were on our way to Prideaux Haven in the area known as Desolation Sound. This is considered to be one of the most beautiful areas in the whole of the inside passage, certainly it looked lovely, but I think we had already been spoiled by princess Louisa inlet. 

We anchored in a deserted spot at the end of the bay, whith a couple of yachts off in the distance.

The next day we headed over to Pendrell Sound, this is supposed to be one of the warmest waters around. Partly as it isn’t flooded by the pacific waters every day, also as it’s a dead end, but has a shore, the water heats up more. I needed warm water as I planned to dive on the boat and clean the prop and bow thruster, the prop is not working 100% and the bow thruster hardly works at all. I did dive, and I don’t know who said the waters were warm, presumably an eskimo, as it was freezing. I couldn’t find my wetsuit which didn’t help. The prop didn’t look too bad, but was too deep for me to work on in the cold, so I focussed on cleaning the bow thruster prop with a bent teaspoon which allowed me to get around the back of the prop blades where all the growth was. That worked out well and I have a lot more thrust from it now.
The hotter and very clear water is great for oysters and besides the oyster farms lining the coast here, there were zillions of shells covering the shoreline rocks.

I was worried about slicing the dinghy on them when we went ashore, but it wasn’t a problem 

We dinghied around the head of the inlet amazed at how deep and clear the water was. The cliffs are very fiord like and go down to the water quite steeply and continue down just as steep.

The next day we headed off to Teakerne Arm, Captain Vancouver spent two weeks anchored here recuperating from the horrendous time he was having in Desolation Sound, he gave it that name more because of his mental state at the time, we thought it was a fantastic place, but it was sunny for us, he was there in storms, and couldn’t find anywhere to anchor, eventually getting into Teakerne Arm. My main reason for for visiting this Arm was simply because if he spent so long here, it can’t have been that bad. As it turned out it was a great spot with wonderful waterfalls at the head.Anchoring was fun, three boat lengths from the shore it is 60m deep, two boat lengths off it’s 20m. so we dropped the hook in 30m and reversed until the anchor gripped the side of the near vertical wall below us. We ran a stern tie ashore, tightened up on the chain and the anchor seemed happy. 

We had towed the dinghy for the first time since Malaysia, and headed off to explore a trail that leads to a large lake up above  that feeds the waterfalls, it was a good climb and at the top of the waterfalls we spotted this winch, used, I presume, for pulling logs from the lake over the top of the waterfall and down to below to be rafted up in log booms.

In a small cove beside the waterfall we spotted a house that seemed to be in trouble.The following morning we pushed on to Blind Channel, this was slightly challenging as we had to pass through three sets of rapids, Yaculta, Gillard & Dent, each about 2 miles apart. We were going against a flood tide, so to make the first rapid at slack water meant we would be 30 minutes late for the last rapid. So we aimed to get to the first on the end of the ebb, and race through arriving at the middle rapids just before slack and the final and most dangerous rapids at Dent at slack water. I spent an hour working out tides and passage planning, we ended up having to leave at 07:30 and we arrived just 15 minutes early at 11:38, we dawdled for 10 minutes then went for it. Everything went well right up until the last set of rapids, Dent, featuring the scarily named ‘Devils Hole whirlpool’, which the pilot says “Those who have looked into the Devils hole won’t ever want to revisit it”. Just as we approached I saw a tug emerging but couldn’t yet see its tow. The tugs rarely are pointing, or even travelling in the same direction as their tow, and require a very wide berth. I had to steer to starboard a lot to miss him and that put our course directly over ‘Devils Hole’, looking through the binoculars I couldn’t see any holes in the water so we pushed on, I was soon able to scoot around the back of the tow and hugged the coast, just missing the hole, which just looked like flat water to me. Yet again, my timing worked out well, except for the fact we had another 2 hours of sailing to go, and when I looked on the chart 2 hours later, I saw Greene Point rapids coming up in a few minutes. I hadn’t even realised they were there. Kathy took the helm, slowed us down, while I scanned the pilot books and found out they can be quite dangerous on spring tides, and we were bang on the highest tides and arriving at maximum flood, the worst time. I couldn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about as we approached and decided we should give it a whirl anyway, we turned into the turbulent waters and headed for the resort we could see in the distance. Everything worked out well, besides one bit of a shove and a splash of waves on the boat we were through. It was only later that I worked out the chart was wrong and the rapids were over to our starboard side as we turned to port, missing the worst of it.

Arriving at Blind Channel was easy enough, despite a strong current from the rapids running through the pontoons, the manager here helped us with our lines and we were soon tied up and basking in the lovely hot sunshine. The resort is family run and you can see they have put a lot of love and effort into making it a gorgeous relaxing place. The restaurant was shut as we are well and truly off season now. One other yacht was stranded here waiting for a water pump to be shipped, but besides them we had the place to ourselves.

A walk along the beach revealed this old winch, again used for logging. A trip through the forest led to a 600 year old cedar tree. I sent a postcard to an old friend from here, and the very next day the postman turned up in their plane to collect the mail and deliver new mail. We really are in the middle of nowhere here, It’s a big island, but has no electric, water or telephone. Electricity comes from a generator and a water powered turbine that makes use of the strong currents here. Water from a brook. Amazingly the internet is very good, but I think that is via satellite. I had wondered how you tie up a plane to a dock?It seems a round turn and one half hitch is all that’s needed!

We saw a few creatures on the way here and around the marina. I dropped them into a little video below.

Tomorrow we head of towards Siontula, taking in a few more towns and anchorages on the way.

Paul Collister

Fishermen’s Terminal was always going to be our first place to visit in Seattle. Locations mean so much more after you’ve read about them and had your interest ignited. We’d both read Jonathan Raban’s book about travelling to Juneau, Alaska along The Inside Passage, when his journey had begun at Fishermen’s Terminal in the late 1990s. We set off early on Tuesday morning August 21st on our bikes. Seattle is great for cyclists; it has designated cycle paths and there were only a few hills on the route to Elliott Bay. We called in to Elliott Bay Marina on the way, to book a berth there for two weeks. It’s another huge one with a great view of the Seattle skyline. We stopped for lunch in the restaurant there, trying not to grimace too much at the cost for a bowl of clam chowder, a portion of chips and a coke and glass of wine (we didn’t eat there again).

 

Fishermen’s Terminal looked like a great place to stay. Paul had enquired about a berth there but there was a huge demand this year and they were totally booked up; preference is naturally given to commercial vessels. We had a look at the memorial and read the information boards about its history. The bronze and stone memorial commemorates over 500 people who lost their lives while fishing in Alaska. Flowers and hand-written tributes are sadly constantly in place relating to most recent losses.

The port is home to the huge boats that have featured in documentaries such as ‘Deadliest Catch’. Jonathan Raban was here in the month of April and he watched boats being fitted out for their spring migration. He described the hive of activity involved in the work, with generations of families taking part and concludes that the place felt older than the city itself. I could understand that and also what he meant about the past being ‘alive and usable’, when looking at the old and well-used vessels around me; all their modern navigational aids were hidden from view below. Wooden tables and chairs outside the main building were in use by people eating food from the kiosks and drinks from the bar, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. Nearby were a couple of seafood restaurants and a shop selling organic produce and artisan gifts – all predictably expensive.

Cycling on, we arrived at the outskirts of Seattle, getting ever closer to the Space Needle. It was a hot afternoon and the hills were steep in the city centre. I was flagging badly on one extremely steep one as we pushed the bikes up so Paul did the gentlemanly thing and pushed both of them to the top. The Museum of Pop Culture is right next to the Space Needle (which, after looking up at it and then checking the admission fee of over £70 for the two of us, we unanimously decided to omit from our itinerary).

The museum, however, was a definite on my list of places to visit. Knowing it would be too late to enter and do it justice, we went in to have a quick look around. There was plenty of information about what was on, including a recently opened exhibition celebrating 80 years of Marvel comics and one on the music and gigs of Pearl Jam. These, and a lot more were all available to see for the princely sum of £22. The museum promptly went on Paul’s list of things he could do without seeing ;-). I resolved to return another day on my own. We had a drink in the venue’s café before cycling along the waterfront to find a store called Fred Meyer, one of the US’s ‘everything under one roof’ shops. It was here that Paul began to feel the pain of the infection that he described in an earlier blog post. It had been a long day of cycling around and we put it down to that at the time, little realising it was the beginning of another visit to a hospital in a foreign country. Pics from our cycle ride round Seattle below.

Despite the pain and discomfort, Paul felt up to moving on the next day. We left Shilshole Marina late in the morning for the hour’s journey to Elliott Bay. It was hazy when we left with what we thought was fog but later discovered to be smoke from all the fires on Vancouver Island.  Entering our new marina, I was thrilled to spot several seals basking on the rocks at the bottom of the breakwater (hard to spot in the pics but they are there).

Once settled in the berth, Paul gave in to the need to rest and as time went on, it became clear that moving around for any length of time was painful and uncomfortable for him. We decided to wait until after the weekend and seek advice if he was no better. In the meantime, I made any necessary trips to the marina office or the shops.

I liked Elliott Bay. The Seattle skyline was a delight to see at night when it was clear enough, and it was very peaceful there. Walking the pontoons I often saw seals popping their heads up, and several large pink and purple starfish could be seen in the clear water, clinging to the metal under the pontoons. On Saturday, Paul felt up to a trip to Pike Place Market on Seattle’s waterfront. An Uber taxi dropped us there and we had a slow amble around as Paul was finding walking painful by then. Pike Place Market was established in 1907 when citizens, outraged by the middlemen hiking up prices for fresh produce, demanded a solution, which came in the form of a public market. Over the years, it’s grown into a vibrant place with lots of homes above the storefronts – the majority of whom are low-income elderly people or people living with disability. As well as the usual market stall there are speciality shops, artists and craftspeople, buskers and an abundance of cafes and restaurants. It was predictably busy on a summer Saturday, especially as visiting cruise ships had disgorged passengers into downtown Seattle, and although the historic buildings and winding alleys were attractive and intriguing, we didn’t want to risk Paul feeling worse by walking too much.

We sought out a coffee bar to check whether Seattle’s reputation as a coffee capital is justified. The first ever Starbucks, which opened in 1971 is located at Pike Place but I’ve never been a fan of the chain so we found an independent one in a side street and shared pumpkin cake to go with it (both very nice).

From there it was a short walk to the city public library, a huge, shimmering glass and steel building which has 11 levels. It was a very impressive library and I was pleased to see it was well attended on all the floors. Level ten was a viewing floor with great views across the city, and was also the reading room where we spent a pleasant half hour reading books about Seattle’s music and history and looking at old photos of the city.

A short cycle ride was necessary the next day to buy a part for the electricity shore power connection, having been told off for not having the correct fitting earlier in the day. That short ride confirmed that Paul was getting no better and first thing on Monday morning we set off to seek medical advice. The hospital experience was very fast and efficient and it was such a relief when the experts diagnosed and prescribed treatment, as opposed to our guess work and online research. The cost of the medicine nearly gave me health problems of my own when the chemist told me the amount! The pills, along with days of rest would at least ensure his recovery, albeit not a quick (or cheap) one.

I took myself off to the centre of the city a couple of days later for the promised visit to the Museum of Pop Culture. As well as the Marvel and Science fiction exhibitions, there was one entitled ‘Scared to Death: The Thrill of Horror Film’. I sat and watched clips of the 100 scariest films in a setting with blood on the floor and ‘bodies’ hanging in a serial killer’s lair. Among the exhibits, I was particularly thrilled to see what is claimed to be the actual axe Jack Nicholson used in one of my favourite films, ‘The Shining’. I browsed the grunge music section to my heart’s content and looked at the clothes, instruments and memorabilia of Seattle’s Jimi Hendrix, then finished off with an entertaining look at the ‘Fantasy: Worlds of Myth and Magic’ room. Some pics of the visit below.

It wasn’t until a week later that Paul felt up to venturing into Seattle. We had a list of places we wanted to see and the first of these was The Klondike Gold Rush Historical Park. It was located in the historic district of the city; picturesque Pioneer Square which, as location of the heart of the gold rush era had some fantastic old buildings. The museum tells the story of the late 1890s stampede to find gold in the Yukon and after watching a short film outlining the timeline of the period we both enjoyed a slow walk through the exhibits, reading and listening to fascinating first-hand accounts about the event and looking at old photographs. All for free, too!

The Elliott Bay Book Company was next. It was our intention to walk there, but the map I’d used turned out to be completely out of scale and was way too far to walk to. We were in Chinatown by the time this was discovered but didn’t have time to linger long there. We did stop for a while to watch a guy playing an instrument similar to a violin while a couple had fun playing pavement chess.

An Uber taxi took us to the book store. He dropped us right by the Jimi Hendrix statue, which ticked off another attraction on the list.

Elliott Book Company’s claim to be ‘a must for bibliophiles’ was spot on. A huge store, on two levels with an obligatory coffee shop, it sold a mix of new titles along with a sizable section of ‘reduced in price’ stock. I had a long browse while Paul sat in the café. Next door I’d spotted a likely bar/restaurant for a late lunch and we walked through its door just after three. The hours between 3 and 5 was ‘Happy Hour’, the guy who greeted us explained. Unfortunately this didn’t translate to any discounts or two for one, as other establishments offer during these hours, it meant that they only served some of what was on the full menu so that they could concentrate on getting ready for dinner service. As he went on to explain the permutations in further detail I couldn’t help thinking they had overcomplicated things: I had to keep asking for clarification until he produced a little slip of paper listing what was on offer. A somewhat dubious interpretation of Happy Hour in my opinion. Still, the bowl of chips and glass of wine for me and meatball sandwich and coke for Paul were welcome refreshments.

We strolled through a small city centre park after that, en route to get the Seattle Center Monorail. This mode of transport provides a fast route between downtown and central locations, and along with several other Seattle landmarks, was built for the 1962 World’s Fair.

The Space Needle, where we got off was another one and we sat on the grass for a while watching it whisk people up to its top observation deck and down again at stomach-lurching speed. This was Labor Day weekend, the equivalent of Britain’s May Day Bank holiday weekend, and alongside the park a festival called Bumbershoot was taking place. This is a three day event when performers from all over the world converge for concerts, theatre productions, independent film screenings and literary events. Apparently it’s permitted to smoke pot in there and we watched a queue of people having their bags searched, presumably for weapons or drugs that weren’t cannabis, before entering the gates to join in the fun.  I mention weapons because signs on the doors of quite a few premises bear the words ‘no firearms or weapons permitted inside’ – words that are somehow simultaneously worrying and reassuring.

With Paul now well on the road to recovery we decided to brave another bike ride on Labor Day Sunday. Paul had found a park that he said didn’t look too far away or too strenuous. At least it wasn’t far away! It’s a shame that the steep hills hadn’t shown show up on the map, however. It had started off well; a cool breeze, long empty roads, interesting upmarket neighbourhoods with pretty and unique houses to look at as we cycled effortlessly along. Further on, we had to ascend in order to reach Discovery Park. It had got hotter by then and the hills were much too steep to cycle up. We ended up pushing them for most of the way – I thought the hills would never stop coming (I think I may even have whined about that a little bit ;-)).  The park was well worth the effort, though. It was fascinating. I knew little about it until afterwards but we came upon such beautiful, big, empty cream-coloured houses as we rode through. They looked like the sort of houses used for American movies, particularly in supernatural ones, such as The Amityville Horror. The pictures show what I mean. There were several of them but none seemed to be occupied. I would have dearly loved to look inside. Signs indicated they were military-owned but it wasn’t until I looked online that I found out they were part of the US Army’s Fort Lawton base. Apparently some of the territory had been sold to the city but part of the park is still used for training and officers’ accommodation. I spent an inordinate amount of time just staring at those enigmatic houses in the late afternoon light.

We took a slight detour on the way back, to visit Fishermen’s Terminal for refreshments at the pub there. I love sitting on the high stools in American bars where they place a coaster in front of you on the counter with a flourish before you’ve even ordered a drink. To our left were three guys who had clearly been there for quite some time. When we took our seats, one of them moved his belongings from the one next to us and we had a polite and humorous interaction about it being ok to sit there. At least, I hope it was polite and humorous because I couldn’t make out what he was saying to me due to the background noise and the less than sober words he spoke – but he chuckled a lot so I took that as a positive sign. Paul tried the pub’s clam chowder and we shared some fries with ranch and barbecue sauce (a new one to us, and very tasty). As we ate, the conversation between two of the three guys next to us gradually changed from a tone of amiable chat to one of goading confrontation.  I could hear it building up beside me, with phrases like ‘I’m just stating my opinion – didn’t intend to cause offence’, and ‘we’re having a discussion, it shouldn’t need to turn into an argument’. Thankfully the third guy, who I guessed was the captain of the fishing boat they had come from managed to calm the situation before it turned into a classic bar room brawl.

No doubt there was plenty more of Seattle that we would have loved to see if we’d had more time and, more crucially, money but we felt we had seen the parts we wanted to and had definitely soaked up the vibrant atmosphere of the city. The car we had booked for the next couple of days would allow us to explore locations further afield.

 

 

Tuesday the 11th of September saw us leave Port Townsend for Canada. We crossed the Straits of Juan de Fuca and headed into the safety of the San Juan Islands. These are a group of islands close to the Canadian border, they belong to America, but could have easily have been Canadian if the circumstances had been slightly different. I believe the USA thought of them as a very strategic place to control the waters around the straits and the routes north towards Alaska.
We anchored in Parks Bay, a lovely secluded spot and very secure from wind and waves, however there is nowhere to go ashore, as in so many places around here, the land bordering the water has been bought up and built on. I think there may be a right to access below the high water mark, but that would just allow you to walk up to the “PRIVATE- GO AWAY” signs you see along the way. To be fair, both Canada and the USA have an amazing amount of very well kept public marine parks in this area.

From Parks bay we left the San Juan islands and motored over to the Canadian coast on Vancouver Island to the town of Sidney. Here we could clear into the country. We had checked on the restrictions again for what food is allowed in and what is restricted, potatoes being the main problem. Kathy always travels with a few handy spuds, so these had to be consumed. We ate a lot of potatoes that morning. Kathy was also a little over on the wine quota so she put a good effort into that issue the previous night. As it turned out, we arrived, called customs on the dock phone and was asked a few questions and then told we were cleared in and to enjoy our stay. No visits, no searches, Job done. (Just realised I’m repeating a bit of the last post)

I loved this boat, looked like it had sailed through a time vortex into this century from some distant past.

They like to keep their boats out of the rain here in SidneyAfter two days in Sidney, a town with a lot of book shops, we had to leave as the marina was booked up for a regata, we had gone there to have a break and enjoy Kathy’s birthday, we had hoped to find a good Indian restaurant, but the only one there had closed down. So we had to move along the coast to Van Isle marina which was also quite a posh affair, but a few miles out of the main town. It did have a lot of marinas and boat repair yards, I wandered around and found two chandleries, one with a load of Sikaflex (Marine Sealant) at a silly low price, I had to buy two tubes, even though I don’t think I can use them before their ‘use by date’

That night we celebrated Kathy’s birthday in the plush restaurant overlooking the marina.

The next morning we left early and headed out to Pirates cove marine park which I had hoped to be a bit deserted as it’s a very small area and quite shallow. when we arrived it was chocca, we motored around pondering what to do, passing between the anchored boats so close that we had a few conversations with those sitting enjoying the peaceful surroundings from their cockpits. Eventually I decided we should try out the new rope I had bought specifically for this scenario where we need a stern tie. This setup can be achieved in several ways, but we decided to drop our anchor, get it to set, then reverse over to the shore and tie the boats stern to a metal chain and ring thoughtfully provided by the park. Some people do it the other way around, but I can see problem with ropes getting tangled up that way. The big problem was getting the anchor to set, there was so little room to manoeuvre, and a boat lay just in front of us and another already stern tied on our side that we could only get about ten metres of chain out in 5 metres of water with about 2 metres for us to reverse and test the anchors set. We did this but I was not convinced how well we had set. Thankfully our neighbour jumped in his dinghy and motored over and took our line ashore, passed it through the ring and returned it to us, saving me the bother of lowering our dinghy. here you can see how close to the shore we got, at low water the next morning we were about ten foot from the shore, with about 40ft in front to the anchor, yet we held, even with a good breeze in the night.

The main reason for going to Pirates cove was that it was just an hour from Dodd Narrows, as I mentioned before, a quite scary pass where the currents run fast and dangerous. we needed to pass through around 9am so this was a great spot to leave from. As it turned out, there was no drama, passing through at slack water makes life very easy.

From there we scooted north west to Boho Bay on Lasqueti Island. A beautiful picturesque spot. very calm and shallow so I was able to anchor in 5 metres of water between a rock face and a big rock with a fish farm thing just off to the side.

Early the next morning we were on the move again, Lasqueti is about half way across the Strait of Georgia and we needed to get right over to the North eastern side in order to visit Desolation sound and the other back channels that we had heard so much about. Around this time I asked Kathy to check out if there was anywhere she really wanted to see, or could find any ‘must see’ places on the net, she quickly came up with the idea to visit Prince Louisa Inlet, a small inlet of outstanding beauty with a giant waterfall at the head called Chatterbox Falls. Looking at the chart, this was an easy diversion from here, so we headed north and cut through the Agamemnon channel up to Jervis Inlet which lead to our inlet.
Going up  Agamemnon meant we had to pass under two sets of overhead high voltage power cables, the chart said 35 metres clearance, now I need 14 metres so there’s no problem, unless I’m getting confused and I need 35 and they were 14, and what about the height of the tide. I knew there was no issue, yet I still checked my numbers and then double checked, it was only the next day that I read you should leave at least 5 metres gap as the voltage can jump that far from the cables to your mast. The idea of the mast hitting 100,000 + volt cables doesn’t bear thinking about.  As we passed under the cables they just seemed to get lower and lower, I really don’t think I could ever do the intercoastal waterway up the eastern side of the USA as so many of the bridges there are just a little bigger than my mast and I think I would freak at each one. However we passed through and looking back felt a bit silly as for some reason now they seemed to be about a mile up in the sky. Around here we passed another sailing boat who was making about 1 knot under sail, there was next to no wind. I admired him for not rushing and burning fuel like us. He was sitting in his boat saying to himself “Sister Midnight, I know that name…??”

Turning to starboard at the top of Agamemnon we made to the government wharf at Egmont, thinking it would be the cheapest option. I took the time to check the pilot books about entering the bay and was shocked to find it right next to the Sechelt rapids or Skookumchuck Narrows, a very serious stretch of water as I will explain later. I checked my tables and saw that the current would be flowing at ten knots through the rapids and wondered how bad the current would be at the wharf. Sideways currents can be a pain when docking. We were passing a small marina / resort in Backeddy with fuel just before the wharf, so pulled over to fill up, while there they told me they were in the ‘shoulder season’ now and rates dropped, so we tied up there for the night and walked down to Egmont which had a shop, and the smallest post office in Canada. On a side note I have noticed a tendency for many countries to have multiple instances of the smallest whatever all over the country, I have visited the smallest house in England while in Cornwall and also in the lake district, I’m sure there are other contenders too. While we were at Egmont checking out the wharf we had intended to visit, we saw a yacht arriving, in fact the one we passed under the pylons. I watched to see how he would cope with the pontoons being full and nowhere to raft on the public visitor side. He wandered around a bit then rafted to a fishing boat in the private area. We went to the shop and waited for it to open to get some supplies. kathy sat outside on the bench which seems to be a bit on the ‘well made’ side.We headed down to the pontoons to see how it all worked when we met the sailor heading up to the shop, I stopped and asked him if he was the skipper on the yacht that just arrived, he said yes and we chatted, I told him we had passed him under the pylons and he told us he  was down from Sointula and I explained that we were heading up there. At this point he realised why he thought he knew Sister Midnight, he asked my full name, then introduced himself as Jim the guy I had been emailing with over the last few months as he was going to be looking after our boat while we returned to the UK. he had just sailed down here for a few days exploring. Quite a coincidence. We bumped into him later in the grocery store, but that was less of a coincidence as the grocery store was the only shop for 5 miles and there was nothing else to do 🙂

Walking around the dock we saw a lot of very sad neglected boats.

We walked back to Backeddy and had a lovely meal in the resort restaurant.

When we arrived it was lovely and sunny but in the morning the fog had descended and I worried if we would be ably to make the 35 miles up to Princess Louisa Inlet, but a local arrived in a small skiff and he told me the fog was only around the marina and was caused by the colder water you get around the rapids. We set off and sure enough the fog was very isolated around the marina, the pic below is looking  back to the marina from about a mile away.

We now headed north up Jervis Inlet, a long 35 mile fiord like passage that ends in a small bay. Captain Vancouver had traversed this route in the late 18th Century looking for the north west passage to the Atlantic. He was disappointed yet again, but he also missed the inlet to the Prince Louisa Inlet which as you can see below is not very wide. The entrance leads to the Malibu rapids, again not recommended at full flood. We arrived at slack water and passed through into an even more striking fiord like passage. 

 

Hard to believe this fills and empties through that little opening

At the head of this inlet is the famous chatterbox Falls, in June the sheer mountainside vertical walls all along the inlet are flowing with waterfalls We found space on a public dock maintained by the park authorities. I’m not used to having to moor next to planes but I just treated it like a boat and all went wellThe small float plane had just arrived with a bride and groom and photographer for some wedding shots in front of the waterfall, after those shots they pranced around on the pontoon for ages before shooting off in the plane. Watching the plane go round and round in circles to gain enough height to clear the mountains made me realise just how high these granite walls reached. The next day a big motor launch $4.5Million dollars worth, arrived and I helped the skipper by taking his stern lines, we chatted and he had seen my “Liverpool” reg on the hull and explained his guests on the boat were two ladies from the UK, so later we were surprised when two giggly northern women turned up, banging on our hull and insisting we join them for drinks on the mega yacht, one of them was from Preston, the other frm Nottingham. We had a nice time chatting with them and a few other guests on the boat,  a very luxurious affair, I noted the kitchen was way better than my own, and I’m talking about the one in my house!

Later that evening we all went over to the hut on the shore, set-up for people to have barbeques, the ship’s crew built a great bonfire, using lots of petrol on the wet wood they found.  Today we left Princess Louisa Inlet early to pass the rapids at slack water, this time at low tide, making the channel even narrower. On the way out we saw some new waterfalls that had been dry on the way in.

This time we went back to Egmont Public wharf, and tied up to the same fishing boat that Jim had tied up to when he was there. One reason he had gone there was to take the 5 km hike to the rapids from the wharf, he had timed it to see the rapids flowing at 12 knots, we are going to do the same tomorrow, but the rapids will be running at 14 knots and the wind will be up so it should be impressive. Many lives have been lost in these rapids, just a few years ago the local search and rescue volunteers, an organisation like the RNLI did some exercises in the rapids and lost two of their crew when the boat capsized and the two women were trapped underneath. More details are here .

Oh I nearly forgot, I celebrated my 60th birthday in the Inlet to the sound of chatterbox Falls, with some lovely presents from Kathy.

Paul Collister

 

I was sad to be leaving Seattle, I was getting used to the ‘in your face’ friendliness of the locals, or Seattelites as they are known, and had been bowled over by how helpful and friendly some of the people we met had genuinely been. It seemed like the whole of the sailing community there worked well together, with shops happily recommending competitor shops to me when they were out of stock. But having spent all my money on bits and bobs for the boat, it was time to move on. We had planned to get to the Wooden Boat Festival for Friday, but the mainsail repair delayed us so we would miss the first day.
Friday morning saw us heading north to Port Townsend, there was no wind, but we had good currents pushing us along and made good progress. The biggest drag was another submarine was heading out, the coastguard escort came and told me I had to clear the exclusion zone, and escorted me towards the beach, in almost the opposite direction to where we were heading, we were already a couple of miles from the subs CPA (Closest point of approach) but that wasn’t enough.  We took 8 hours to cover the 37 NM, arriving at 4pm, once we checked in we headed down to the festival as I read that bands were performing until late each night and we were pleased to find the gates open and free after 5pm, so we wandered around the stalls, mostly closing, bought some french fries and watched the bands performing on the music stage.  There were about six different stages setup for demonstrations and talks each day with maybe a hundred different talks all in all. Over the next two days I attended a talk on sharpening tools, this came from a guy who said he will sharpen his chisel maybe every ten minutes during a serious bit of boat building! I was thinking it was more of an annual thing. I also watched an impressive lady talk about varnishing tips, she had been varnishing for 31 years in Port Townsend, and really knew her stuff. I missed talks from Nigel Calder, a god in the boat maintenance world, and Brion Toss, a master rigger, both of these guys books have been on my bookshelf for many years. What was a bit worrying was that Brion was hobbling around in a plaster cast on his arm and leg, making me wonder if something had gone wrong while he was up a mast?

The festival consisted of scores of wooden boats, mostly quite old, demonstrations on the stages, a boat building competition, where 4 teams competed over the three days to build boats from scratch, launch and race them, live music, sea shanties, trips on the water on classic yachts/ tall ships and loads of other activities for kids. All in all it was a great festival, and I wished I had got there a day earlier and got to the festival earlier each day. In the harbour that held the festival there is an adjacent school of boatbuilding where demonstrations of woodworking were going on.

Some pictures from the festival are below.

“La Boheme is one in a series of William Atkin designed double-enders. This one is the Eric. Modeled after Norwegian rescue boats at the turn of the century, the Eric is said to be “the best boat for the worst weather”. La Boheme’s keel was laid in 1926. She was completed and launched in 1938 out of Victoria, BC and has plied the waters of the North West ever since. Constructed of Port Orford cedar on oak frames, La Boheme is stout, sea-kindly and extremely comfortable as cruiser.”

Boheme comes from the same Norwegian heritage as our own baba / tashiba boats, except those plank lines are for real.

 

One for Taffy.

 

 

Back at the boat we took advantage of a giant safeway store opposite the marina to stock up with everything we need for the next few weeks as we will be mostly at anchor on our way back to Malcolm Island.

It’s actually called the boat haven, but I think of it as boat heaven, it’s a decent walk from the haven to town and the other marina of Port Hudson where the festival is staged, but the Haven has everything a boat owner could desire, there are loads of workshops, I counted four travel lifts, a west Marine, a really good cheap hardware store that has a good range of stainless fittings. Shops, cafes, a fish stall and loads of classic and odd ball boats in every direction give the place a very nautical feel. It’s also has a huge area of hard standingBoats like this one above are scattered around the yard, this is an old classic cruise ship. One morning I looked up after hearing some swishing of the water next to us to see this yacht (below) passing by. A fairly common sight here. I think I will bring the boat back here next year to do any big jobs like the mast refurb I’m thinking of.

Kathy got herself into trouble again and I had to go downtown and bail her out. 

Actually it’s one of these cells under the old courtroom, now a museum, where Jack London spent the night once en-route to the Klondike.

Port Townsend was once, in the 1880s bigger than Seattle, and was scheduled for great things, but the panic/depression of 1893 put paid to that and the town went into decline. But not before several countries had built their imposing embassies here, and several very grand buildings were erected on the main roads.
Above one of these buildings we found an old cinema where we watched ‘Crazy Rich Asians’ The cinema was great, you could take a meal in, drink your wine from a glass glass and sit on a very comfortable sofa. The film was also fun as it was set in Singapore and Malaysia, so we recognised many of the locations.

Port Townsend is a lovely place, it seems when woodstock ended, a lot of people left for here to carry on the party, the general vibe is that of a laid back town, full of artists, lovely coffee bars, lots of art and craft shops, and of course this sits well with so many skilled boat workers, carpenters, steel workers etc. They even have a famous ‘forge’ here where you can get any rare kind of boat fitting cast. I could quite easily spend a year or two here.

Sadly we had to leave and start our trek north to Siontula, the days are getting shorter and colder, there’s less sunshine these last few days and I worry we will hit bad weather along the way. So I want to push on.

Today (Wed) we arrived in Sidney, Canada, a large town near Victoria on Vancouver Island. Check-in to Canada was as simple as saying hello , boat name, and no to ten questions, all on the phone, then we were in.

We are here until Saturday when we head over to Desolation Sound and explore the eastern side of the inside passage. We mostly stayed on the Vancouver Island side on the way down here. We will celebrate Kathy’s birthday here in Sidney, hopefully finding a nice restaurant, my birthday follows a few days later, but I’m more than happy with a cheese butty at anchor in desolation sound.

Paul Collister

 

A line from West Side Story, my favourite musical, and one that aptly describes my experience of the US so far. Well, maybe the high prices of things here are not quite so ok by me but it’s still thrilling to be here. My last visit had been way back in 1983, a trip to California that took in Los Angeles and San Francisco – places we’ll hopefully get round to seeing next year. This time we started off in Port of Friday Harbor, or ‘Friday Harbor’ as it’s popularly known. We arrived there on August 16th on a beautiful sunny afternoon after crossing the invisible border from Canada to America earlier that morning en route from Sidney Spit. The sunshine and warmth that greeted us on the approach were welcome after a chilly journey with gusts of cold wind up to 23 knots. Not so welcome was the amount of other yachts jostling for position in the bay. The position we were all after was a space to tie up on the customs dock. We also had to give low flying sea planes a wide berth before edging closer to the pontoon.

After Paul returned from showing our documents in the tiny office that you can see in the pic above, our clean, tidy and legal boat didn’t get so much as a cursory inspection, just a quick glance and a couple of questions relating to fresh produce. Paul began to explain that we weren’t sure if cheese was permitted and was interrupted with a ‘cheese is ok!’ declaration from the seemingly lone officer before she hurried on to deal with the next yacht.

Port Friday is a pretty town. We had a customary walk through its wide main streets after tying up in Port of Friday Harbor Marina (‘where Friday begins’). The shops were typical of those in most seaside places – gifts, souvenirs and artisan products displayed in creative emporiums along with plenty of ice cream parlours, bars and cafes. Spring Street was so neat and picturesque in fact that it reminded me of the manufactured high streets you find in theme parks such as Disneyland.

Naturally, the supermarket was of most interest to me, having used up all our fruit and veg to comply with entry regulations. It didn’t disappoint with its wide range of veggie products and unfamiliar but obviously popular food such as corn dogs, Twinkies, beef jerky and a staggering array of nut butters. Unfortunately it was just as, if not more, expensive as Canada had been. Some examples of basic products: a punnet of small tomatoes is £3.92; a loaf of bread is around £2.20-£4.50, a box of cereal is £4.00 and a bag of salad is around £3.50. Veggie and vegan products are even more expensive. I chose carefully. Pics below show examples of what are very high prices to me when compared with those in Asia and even in the UK, but as Paul says, the wages here are likely to be a lot higher. Luckily we have still got a lot of things we bought for the Pacific crossing which will help stretch the budget.

It was a very early start the following morning for our journey to Port Ludlow. The early morning air had us both donning our thermals with a welcome mug of hot coffee as we left Friday Harbor at 5 50 am. The sun had just risen over a mountain leaving the sky with a gorgeous pinky-orange hue and a grey seal popped its head out of the water just before we hit the open sea. I love mornings like that at sea. I saw my first ever submarine on the passage; a rather eerie, long grey-coloured tube just on the surface of the water, flanked on either side by military escorts. We assumed we were too close to it because a coastguard approached us on our port beam and warned us via a loudspeaker of its presence. We found out later that it’s normal practice for them to let all vessels in the vicinity know there’s a submarine nearby in that way.

Port Ludlow is the venue each year for a rendezvous for owners of yachts designed by Bob Perry. It’s a chance to meet and chat with skippers and crew of the same or similar boats. The leaflet pictured below outlines its aims in a more humorous manner 🙂 Paul got talking to people immediately after arriving.

Port Ludlow Marina has 300 berths and we spotted several Baba and Tashiba designs on the pontoons. There was a small shop and a covered communal area with tables and benches for event hire, which was where the live music would be on Saturday night. We joined our pontoon neighbours, Larry and his friend Monica and another couple at the outdoor seating area for a few drinks that evening until the chilly evening breeze forced us all back inside.

We went for a walk next morning along the main road to the tiny village about 30 minutes’ walk away. There was no obvious ‘sidewalk’, just a narrow lane adjoining the busy main road which was bordered on both sides by thick trees. It wasn’t the sort of walk you’d want to do in the dark. The village store was similar to petrol station convenience stores and predictably pricey. On the counter I noticed a collection box for donations to help pay the medical bills for cancer treatment of one the members of staff. It reminded me how tough it must be to receive such a diagnosis here when you can’t afford the health care.

On Saturday afternoon we joined everyone in the tented area to listen to talks from the guest speakers. I had a great time looking at and fussing the several friendly dogs in attendance. I’ve noticed that lots of US skippers have one or more dogs as part of their crew.

After the talks Paul had a chance to speak to Bob Perry and a few other guys he knew from his online Baba boat group and some of them came on board to have a look around and a chat. Later, we joined Larry and Monica on ‘Gone With the Wind’ (its fenders were labelled ‘Tara’), Larry’s beautifully fitted out Baba 35, for more drinks and chat.

All of this was very nice but I was looking forward to hearing some live music. Bob Perry is part of a six man band called ‘The Perry Rendezvous All Star Band’. Given their ages I knew the sort of music they would play was likely to be the kind I love and I wasn’t wrong. We’d all taken food contributions to the buffet, which was fabulous and plentiful, with drinks laid on for us to help ourselves. It was an extremely enjoyable evening – we didn’t dance, but we tapped our feet and sang along to some great rock, folk and country songs (or maybe that was just me – :-).

Quite a few boats had left by Sunday afternoon. We would be staying an extra day so went to have a look at the totem pole that had been erected in recognition of Native American art and culture overlooking the bay on Burner Point, and took a few pictures up there. A plaque informed us that the imposing 40-foot pole was created from a 720-year-old red cedar tree and the carved figures on it represent the history of Port Ludlow. Later that afternoon we had a visit from Karl, the solo sailor we’d met in Port Hardy. He told us about his trip along the west coast of Vancouver Island which sounded glorious, especially as he’d been lucky enough to see black bears on the way! I’m still hoping to see one before we return to the UK in October.

Our first stop in Seattle the following day was Shilshole Marina, a huge place near the Ballard district. The row of pontoons seemed to stretch for miles, and almost all of them were full.

After checking in we set off to check out Ballard. It was about a thirty minute walk from the marina but on the way we stopped at Ballard Locks, the passageway between Puget Sound and the docks in Lakes Washington and Union, which forms a barrier between fresh and salt water.  Close by is the place where the salmon can be observed on the fish ladder. We spent quite a lot of time in both these places, just watching the action. Locks have always fascinated me with their intricate machinery and construction. I did feel for the woman in charge of the lines on the boat we all stood watching from above as the lock staff issued commands to her and the captain. She must have been hoping nothing would go wrong being under such public scrutiny.

I found it a bit distressing watching the salmon attempt the seemingly impossible task of ascending the stone steps to return to the freshwater area where they had been born. The current was so strong and they had to extend so much effort to leap up onto the next rung, it looked certain they would be flushed back down by the current. We kept losing sight of the one we were watching and it made me breathless just looking at them so I left Paul to it while I looked out for seals in the bay.

Ballard has a distinct ‘new-age’ feel to it. It reminded me of places in Brighton and Hove in parts, with its lively bars and cafes and ethnic gift shops. It’s an old district, the waterfront established in the late 19th century by Scandinavian loggers and fishermen. Their heritage and culture is celebrated in a Nordic Museum which had closed by the time we walked past it at 4 30. Our main mission was to obtain a data plan for our phones, and once this was done we took a slow walk back, taking in a pub on the way – the first ‘pub’ I’d been in for a very long time and it happened to be happy hour so that was even better.

Our stay in Seattle would be a welcome break where we could be tourists for a couple of weeks and my plan was to research some of the attractions the city has to offer. I wondered if we would be brave enough (or more realistically, rich enough) to have a trip up the city’s iconic Space Needle. This is 605 feet high with a revolving glass floor on the top and a lift that shoots you up there in 43 seconds.  There is a lot to see and in the next few weeks we aimed to see as much as we could.

 

Having almost fully recovered from my infection, we have decided to head north to Port Townsend for the wooden boat festival; It’s a lot more than just wooden boats. From there we head north to Malcolm Island in Canada where we will stash the boat for the winter. We will be flying home on the 15th October.

We have made the most of seattle over the last few days, I hired a car so I could get around all the shops and other stores and we used it to get out of town too.

I’m quite warming to Seattle, it’s slightly whacky, and you see everything from the very poor to the very rich walking around in most areas. I would gladly stay put here for another 6 months if it wasn’t for the high cost of keeping a boat here, and the general cost of things. A decent loaf is usually $4-$5.

Halloween has started here, I did like the range of pumpkin on offer at safeway, Morrisons could learn a thing or two here. 

One of the highlights was finally finding a place to get my LPG Cooking gas cylinders re-certified and then filled. I took them to Amerigas down in Kent, 30 mins drive south of the centre. They sent me on to Pacific, anoth 15 mins south where I was told it would take two days for the engineer to test them. When I explained I was leaving in 2 days, early, the engineer came out to say he would test them there and then. Result, but one of the tanks failed the leak test inside the valve, totally safe but he replaced the valve and refilled both tanks. Brilliant, we now have 40lb of propane, that should provide all our cooking needs for over a year.

I also bought a new dual tank switch / regulator and new pigtails for the tanks, so once I fit them we will have a pretty safe setup. However with all the fitting and removing the old gas pipe off the cylinder, it became quite weak. During the evening 2 nights ago, the gas pipe burst releasing a stack of propane gas at very high pressure. Kathy and I jumped out of our skins as a huge roar came from the cockpit. I quickly managed to turn off the cylinder and made sure the gasses had all vented away. Later I tested it by lighting a match in the cockpit, I don’t like doing this as it’s not a fair test, in as much as you know the only outcome you could ever possibly see is the good one. Fortunately the boat design allows gas to escape in the locker and be sent safely on its way.

Today I collected the repaired mainsail from the sail loft. They did a pretty good job patching it up, you can see the latest fitting below. It takes me a couple of hours to get the mainsail on, the full length  battens, which are the 5 long bits of plastic rod, running horizontally across the sail are fitted in a fancy case held together by 4 nuts/bolts. I have adjusted the batten tensions in a hope to make the sail work better.

A few days ago we went to the big West Marine, and now we checked out Fisheries Supply, these are supposed to be less arty farty about stuff, they come from a commercial background rather than leisure. However I couldn’t really see much difference between the two, other than Fisheries is a bit cheaper. It was still like an Aladdin’s cave for me. I spent far too much there.

Later on I was to discover Seattle Marine and Fisheries Company, clevery shortened to Seamar. Now these are more like the real thing, I got the usual “Hi there, see anything I could help you with” type greeting, but did I suspect an underlying tone of “You look like a yachtie/Timewaster who wants to buy 3 1/2 foot of rope”, but that might just be my apprehension of walking into any type of professional setup I don’t belong in. Especially ocean hardened fishermen. It didn’t help that he knew nothing about the underlying construction of his three strand nylon, requests to know if it was three or four part, balanced rope just provoked a look of surprise.
Anyway, it looked the business and the price was 23c / foot, in West or Fisheries this was about $1/foot. So we went off to another warehouse, where they keep the rope, and I was going to get a half drum of 300ft, but suddenly came over all macho and decided to take the full 600ft (200m) drum. I was starting to feel like a real fisherman now. Hopefully I have enough anchor rode now for anywhere I want to stop in the world. Below you can see the anchor rode, a massive drum of polyprop and a smaller drum of 3/16th” wire for the new guard rails. I also bought tons of tins of chemicals, from paint stripper/acetone/thinners through to no-seize paste , locking glues, polyester resins/ varnishes, gloss and matt, engine oil/gearbox oil, cutting oil. I have two extra winch handle holders to make life easier in the cockpit and at the mast.

 

After all the shopping we needed a break so we drove out to Snoqualmie Falls. The fall is a lot bigger than it looks, and provides some power to Seattle from the underground turbines.

A little further along we wandered a country trail down to one of the river beds that feeds the falls.

A bit further on we went to the train museum. Kathy has the pictures of that. Just along from the museum we realised we were in Twin Peaks country land, so we drove out to the back road where David lynch turned up one day and planted the sign below. They took some pictures, pulled the sign and drove off. Much later the city of Snoqualmie put up a replica sign, but it has since been stolen.

So in an effort to immerse ourselves in seattle culture, we have been to , Walmart, Walgreave,Safeway,Target,Fred Meyer but not McDonalds or Starbucks. We have travelled the light railway, done the monorail and taken many uber rides.

The view from the west end of the marina looking west

And a little later the view looking east from our berth.

Paul Collister

Yesterday saw me back in hospital, It’s called ER here, A&E back home. But no sign of George Clooney or Hugh Laurie anywhere.

I’m often seeing stuff on Quora about the differences between US and UK Healthcare so I now had a chance to check it out myself. I might even be able to answer one of those Quora questions.

The problems started after a long bike ride a few days earlier, I thought I must have been sitting uncomfortably, as I had quite a pain later in my groin region. Perhaps that’s all the detail that I need to give, other than there was some considerable swelling.

The swelling continued and the pain increased over the weekend, so a search on google revealed many possible causes, most of them quite serious. Bruising didn’t seem likely.

So we headed on down to an urgent care place, these are like ER but for non life threatening issues, they are also supposed to be a lot cheaper than ER, so for just $125 they should be able to give me an opinion and maybe some treatment. Unfortunately, when I explained the problem they said they couldn’t do anything for me and I should head to ER immediately, which was a bit worrying.
They also said they wouldn’t charge me, which was nice.

So Kathy and I jumped into a cab and headed to ER in Ballard for a very efficient check in process, I do have medical insurance, but I had only just taken it out, and I selected a high excess. This was going to be an expensive day. The check-in process took about 5 minutes, in the UK it’s about the same. Next came triage, which in my opinion should be a fairly prompt process, in the UK this normally happens within an hour, here in Seattle it was right away.

I was taken to lovely examination room, where they took my vitals, hooked me up to some monitors then scheduled a specialist to visit. He came about 30 minutes later and ordered an ultrasound scan, In the UK we might well be in the 3 -6 hour period by now. They also took blood and urine samples.

The ultrasound revealed no serious issues, just inflammation, most probably caused by an infection. The actual diagnosis was Epididymitis, and the treatment was to be a course of antibiotics, rest and loads of painkillers.

After a few hours of being at ER I was discharged with a list of drugs I had to go and buy. However I was now feeling more ill than when we arrived, so a quick uber back to the boat and I went straight to sleep, while Kathy went off in search of the medication.

Buying medicine is a bit different here; in the UK any prescribed drugs will cost the same amount, so 10 antibiotic pills will cost about $10 total, here you have to shop around, we had a discount card from the insurers and their recommended retailers, of which safeway was the closest. Kathy popped out to get the medicine and came back, waiting for the right moment to tell me the pills cost $185!! A bit of googling showed safeway are the most expensive place around here. The pharmacy said the insurer won’t pay for antibiotics, or perhaps I need to make a claim. Still another lesson learned.

I won’t be surprised if the cost of the ER visit is in the region of $1000 (in 2013 the average ER visit in WA costed $1200), the bulk of which I will have to pay.

So to compare systems, well I can’t really on such a flimsy illness, but I’m  sure that the outcome of either an ER or A&E visit would have been the same for me, a course of antibiotics. A&E back home would have had me sitting for a few hours in a noisy room, possibly with crying babies, noisy toddlers and the odd drunk falling off his chair. whereas here I waited for 5 minutes in a very flash foyer / reception area, before being whisked off to a private room. Nurses and Doctors here seemed very professional and caring, just like back home, which is what you would expect. However they didn’t seem as rushed here, in fact that was the main difference I think, here they had plenty of room, and seemed quite laid back. All in all I think I prefer the UK setup, I think the wage deductions for National Insurance (Health care) are way lower than the cost of medical insurance, and even with insurance here, the deductibles and co-pay charges can soon add up. Still one visit and a few weeks in the country doesn’t really qualify me as an expert.

That was yesterday, and I’m already feeling better today, hopefully we can get out again soon. Nurse Kathy has been doing a wonderful job as I haven’t been able to move around much. We had plans to do loads of stuff here, and may stay a bit longer to make up for lost time. Seattle seems like a great place, and for the last few days the smoke has lifted and it’s been lovely and sunny. BTW I thought smoke was a technical term for a light fog, it was on the marine forecasts a lot, but it turns out to be actual smoke from fires. It seems like there are lots of large fires burning on Vancouver Island. One newspaper in Seattle last week reported air quality to be so bad it was equivalent to smoking 5 cigarettes a day. Looks like we were very lucky to have seen as much of the island as we did. In fact I hear most of the western coast is suffering from big forest fires.

Before I got ill I took a trip down to West Marine, which is a short walk from the marina, they have such a great range of marine products, so far it’s the best chandlery I have ever been in, aisle after aisle of everything you could ever need for the boat, in fact I bought quite a few things that weren’t on my ‘to buy’ list. I was enrolled into the West Marine discount club, and was told they will match any price I can get from anywhere else (except eBay), which seems like a good deal. I have also ordered tons of stuff online to be sent here and I’m just pondering if I should buy a load of sunbrella, a fabric used to make boat covers/canopies etc as it’s hard to get in Asia.
I need to visit Fisheries next, as that’s supposed to be a great chandlery and more down to earth than West Marine.

Elliott Bay Marina below with Downtown Seatlle in the distance

Paul Collister