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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

I knew we were in for some lively company when Paul called down to ask if I was decent because we had company, and I heard a rich Canadian voice loudly respond ‘can’t I wait until she’s not!’ Two young guys stumbled on board, one of them literally, cursing when he caught his foot on the side deck shackle after taking his shoes off. Down the steps and into the cabin came Keith and Frank who had been on a Friday afternoon drinking session at the marina pub before returning to their respective boats near to ours in French Creek Harbour. Admiring Sister Midnight, they’d got talking to Paul about our journey and were interested to look inside the boat that had crossed the Pacific. They proved to be entertaining company, recommended some places to visit and told us about their boats. Keith had (we think he’d inherited it) a huge motor launch that he’d been trying to sell with little success. Frank (a fisherman, his boat stern to stern with ours) told us he’d been trying to persuade Keith to keep it. He’d told him of the fun they could have on it and how it was big enough to host some great parties. These guys loved to party from the stories we heard and would have no doubt loved it if we’d hosted one then and there but sadly we had places to go. After answering all their questions about the trip and asking a few of our own regarding the nearest shops, they sloped off, presumably to sleep away the rest of the afternoon.

We’d arrived in French Creek earlier that day after three days spent in Campbell River, a fair-sized city on the east coast of Vancouver Island. Paul had developed a heavy cold so we had extended our stay until he felt fit enough to carry on. We didn’t do a lot there, apart from a walk along the waterfront and pier on our first evening, and a visit to the museum the following afternoon. The museum had plenty of information about the region’s First Nation history, as well as some exhibits about fishing and logging in the area. I particularly loved the detailed replicas of a pioneer cabin and a 19th century hotel lobby that looked as though they were straight out of a Western film set. We also watched a fascinating film of the actual blast that destroyed Ripple Rock at Seymour Narrows in 1958 in order to make it safe for crafts to pass over. As we drew closer to America we needed to use up any fresh produce on board because it’s forbidden to take any in from Canada, so I found myself making vegetable soup for the freezer on one of the hottest afternoons we’d experienced since arriving in the country. It made shopping easy though: we just stocked up with drinks and bread, having enough of everything else to last us until America.

We’d spent the night before French Creek at anchor at Hornby Island. Known as The Hawaii of the North due to its golden sandy beaches (most of the beaches here have greyish-coloured shingle instead of sand) and warm waters, it was the busiest anchorage so far. Yachties flock there to go canoeing, kayaking and paddleboarding in the calm bay and at this time of year the beach was predictably crowded with families. Neither of us felt like going ashore. Paul had bought a fresh fish in Cambell River and inspired by the smells wafting over from beach barbecues and from neighbouring boats, he decided to use the barbecue in the cockpit. We need to cook more things on it – it smelled delicious and I don’t even like fish!

Hornby Island to French Creek was only a three hour trip and we arrived there just before 2pm.  It’s another fisherman’s wharf so we had to raft up to another boat which is a simple enough thing to do, except that a guy watching us from the opposite pontoon saw fit to point out that we were breaking the rules by being three abreast (the boat we had rafted to was rafted to one next to the pontoon). The man who had helped us in told him it wouldn’t matter that much, at which the other guy threw his hands in the air and declared it was none of his business, he was merely pointing out the rule displayed on the signs. He was so insistent that it was nothing to do with him that he effectively suggested it was personal. Anyway, after he’d motored off we did in fact move so that we were only two abreast and could finally take a look around. I’ve come to prefer staying at the working fishermen’s wharves or commercial marinas as opposed to public marinas for their friendly, informal atmosphere and the hive of activity that is usually going on in them. French Creek was no different, and at the recommendation of our friends earlier, I suggested we have a drink in the pub on site. It really didn’t have much to recommend it once we were inside. Televisions were playing various sporting events all around the bar and it was crowded, noisy and soulless. We took our drinks outside and didn’t stay for another. A much more sober and quieter Frank chatted with Paul from the stern of his boat that evening. I have a feeling he asked the same questions as those from the afternoon but at least he had a chance of remembering them this time.

From French Creek, we headed for Nanaimo on a very choppy sea with the rain pelting down and a decidedly cold wind. Poor Paul was up above the whole time. We had the sails up and the journey was extended because we had to tack a few times. It was a seven hour journey all in all and we pulled in to Nanaimo Yacht Club at 5pm, by which time the weather had improved considerably. The yacht club had been another suggestion from the French Creek guys and was much appreciated because it was cheaper and had good wifi. We walked along the prom in the evening and I saw buildings that although not quite skyscrapers, were the tallest I’d seen since Japan. The city of Nanaimo has one of the largest shorelines in Canada and is popularly known as The Harbour City with enough attractions for visitors to warrant a few days’ stay. We would only be spending one full day there so had to choose and slot in our activities beforehand. On the way back to the boat I spotted two second hand bookshops and resolved to check them out before the planned excursion across the water to Newcastle Island.

Browsing in the bookshops the next morning while Paul had a coffee in the café opposite, turned out to be a good move because by the time I emerged, the murky, overcast morning had developed into a clear, warm early afternoon; just right for a nature trail.

We caught the 2pm ferry for the short journey over the water, along with several people who were carrying an impressive array of heavy camping gear. Sporting heavy, cumbersome rucksacks, they transported their stuff down the jetty with the aid of wheelbarrows and ferry staff helped to load it on board. Newcastle Island is clearly a popular spot for camping breaks. The island is a marine provincial park, and a sacred site of the unpronounceable First Nation Snuneymuxw people, who know it as Saysutshun Island. The name Newcastle came about from the discovery of coal on the island in 1849 and took the name from the mining town of Newcastle-upon-Tyne when the British needed good quality coal from North America for their steamships. It boasts rustic and pristine beaches, playgrounds, family-friendly camping and a 22km hiking trail. We chose the shorter, outer loop trail that took in some of the coastal path. At the start of the trail was a sign warning that a cougar had been sighted a few weeks previously. As for bear-confrontations, the advice is to make yourself bigger and to roar at the animal. You most definitely should not run away. I’m all for standing up to bullies but I’m not sure I could follow that advice! Two cute raccoons were what we spotted first anyway. A group of people ahead of us were pointing upwards and there they were. First, we saw one clinging to the trunk and staring wide-eyed at us and as we got ready to photograph it, a smaller little black and white face popped out from a nearer tree as if to see what all the noise was. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a raccoon before let alone in its natural state. It still gives me a thrill to think of it now.

The walk was wonderful. Unlike our treks in Asia I didn’t have to worry about leeches or millipedes. There was no humidity or swamps and every now and then a cool breeze refreshed us from the afternoon heat. The various trees in the interior forested landscape were interesting enough in themselves. They were huge, gnarled and very tall Douglas fir, Oak and Big Leaf Maple trees. The colours were beautiful, and must be a glorious sight to behold in the autumn. We saw a deer nibbling at the leaves of a fallen tree near a beach, but we didn’t come across the cougar. At the end of the two hour walk we were going to have a drink in the bistro but it had closed a few minutes before we got there –at the early hour of 5pm! There were several families camping nearby and it seemed such a wasted opportunity for a restaurant to miss out on making money from holidaymakers and visitors at the height of the summer season. We caught the 5 15 ferry back to Nanaimo and had a slow walk back along the waterfront to the yacht club.

Prevost Island was our next stop on 13th August. This passage would take in another notorious narrow pass called Dodd Narrows. It’s the narrowest pass in the Gulf Islands and subject to swift currents according to Joe Upton, the author of my guide to the Inside Passage. He tells of the time in 1982 when he was towing a gill-netter with engine problems and failed to heed the warning to avoid passing through it against the tidal stream. He ended up swerving violently back and forth in the current while the guy he was towing had a tough time steering to stay off the rocks. Apparently he’d become so alarmed during the crossing he’d bitten his cigar in half! Needless to say Paul had done his research on the best time to go through, and when we arrived at the entrance, several other vessels were stationary, presumably waiting for the ideal time slot of midday. We heard boats from the north and south entrances on VHF broadcasting their intentions to go through and for any concerned vessels to radio back. We sped through it at 11 15! I think Paul was hoping for a bit of a ‘white water’ thrill. The gap looked very narrow from a distance and once we were going through I could see it would be tricky for wide boats to pass each other comfortably. Looking up at the holiday resort on the hill above us I noticed a bench that looked as if it had been placed for the sole purpose of watching the boats traversing the channel: a prime position to film or snap any drama. Two people were sat on it looking down as our group of boats motored past. Apart from more of a swirly sea, it was hard to know we’d gone over any rapids, although Paul said he felt the steering ‘pull’ a bit.

Annette Bay was a picturesque little sheltered bay to anchor for the night. Paul’s guide had mentioned river otters frequenting the banks but we didn’t see any. There were a couple of intriguing floating houses in the bay that I would have loved to look inside. I’d never seen anything quite like them before.

Our final place in Canada before we crossed the border to the US was Sidney Spit on Sidney Island, part of the Gulf Islands National Park. After trying unsuccessfully to anchor on the slippery kelp seabed, we picked up a mooring buoy. As it was early afternoon we launched the dinghy, parked it at the jetty and walked the length of the narrow sandy spit and back. It hadn’t looked very inspiring from the boat, being so flat and colourless but the sand was littered with enough things to delight any beachcomber. We saw all kinds of pretty shells and stones, fishing debris, unusual plants and washed-up logs, but thankfully no unsightly rubbish or plastic bottles.

We spent two nights at Sidney and on the second day we went on another nature trail. Having spotted picnic tables the day before, we took a packed lunch with us and after parking the dinghy, set off through the forest. The only wildlife we saw was a solitary deer in a classic ‘deer in the headlights’ pose in the centre of the path. It was a lovely walk though, and the tall, red-trunked cedar trees gave off a wonderful aroma. We ate our lunch near a campsite by the old brickworks. Surprisingly, from 1906 until 1915 the Sidney Tile and Brick Company operated a thriving brick making service utilising the island’s clay. There are still lots of red bricks littering the area. Children from the campsites build towers and structures with them now.

Back on the boat that evening, Paul was on the coach roof with binoculars looking at whales in the distance, their blowholes spouting water – a bit too far away to see properly but great to see nevertheless. We also saw seals diving and resurfacing in the flat calm water. I could still smell the gorgeous aromas coming from the forest on the evening breeze. No air freshener could ever capture that unique fragrance. It was a fitting evening for our last one in Canada for a while. The next day we would be travelling on to the United States.

Kathy

 

Monday morning
We left Port Ludlow in a most relaxing manner, not an early start, but with a little wind blowing us onto the dock I thought it was a good time for Kathy to try springing us off using the prop walk. This is the way many big boats often get away from the dock when space or wind is making it difficult. Basically if you are port side too, as we were, you put the wheel hard to port, full ahead with the throttle and basically try to run over the finger, but before the boat makes any real headway, the stern has swung out, and you slam it into reverse, wheel amidships and back you go. It works a treat when you have the room for the bowsprit to swing over the finger, and not take out the mooring pile.

Once away we were out into the foggy waters of Puget Sound. Many other yachts and motor boats appeared and were all heading roughly the same way. We crossed through the Traffic Separation Scheme at one of the roundabouts and just a few hours out of Port Ludlow we were hanging out the fenders for Shilshole Marina, Ballard, Seattle. I hoped when we arrived, to find a shop with a lady selling shells, so I could point her out to Kathy and remark that “She Sells Sea Shells in a Shilshole Shop”, but we didn’t find one 🙁

Shilshole Marina is on the northern shores of Seattle City, on the edge of a district called Ballard. It’s a huge marina, hundreds of berths with some interesting boatsand is next to the entrance to Lake Union and Lake Washington, which you access via the Washington Ship Canal after passing up the Ballard Locks. 

We easily tied up, checked in for two nights then set off to get provisions from the local Safeway. My local supermarket in the UK was a Safeway until they went bust and Morrisons took over, so I was keen to see if this Safeway did the 6 brown rolls for a pound offer. Again I was disappointed, however they did have a stunning array of Artisan bread, but I’m past paying $4 for a loaf. On the way to the grocery store (as they call it here) we stopped by the Ballard locks, there’s a good chance we might be going through them soon, and watched some boats pass into the lake side, it all looked pretty straightforward. We also watched the salmon in the salmon steps making their way home. A special underground viewing spot has been built to allow you to watch the salmon trying to get back to their birthplace. You can also see outside the locks, many salmon waiting to enter the passage with the steps. This is a man made version of the rocky rivers and waterfalls they would normally be tackling, all built by the US Army when the canal was first created.

My first job was to get SIM cards for us and get some data connectivity. Seattle doesn’t seem too hot on giving away free internet, and most of the marinas don’t have it, but in Shilshole you can subscribe to a fancy service. However for $45 with AT&T we each got a month of free calls/text and 6gb of data, which isn’t bad, a lot better than Canada, but nothing like Malaysia where 1gb of 4g costs 50 cent.  We now have AT&T US numbers and are up and running on the net.

We popped into a bar on the way back and Kathy enjoyed her glass of wine while I spent an hour trying to get my SIM card to work. (It looks like they like the stout here)

I’m taking my time to get used to the American gregariousness, one one level, I’m sure the checkout staff at Safeway don’t give a monkeys about whether I have a good day or not, and I guess when you have said it/ heard it a million times, it probably loses its meaning anyway, on the other hand we meet some very friendly helpful people, who genuinely do seem to want me to have a nice day. Being a normally reserved Englishman, it’s a little confusing. A smile is usually sufficient 😉 Things are pricey here in Seattle, as they were in Canada, I could just be getting too miserly, if I divide the cost of everything by 2 then everything seems fine, but that plan has a long term flaw. Also we are coming from a few years in SE Asia where $3 gets you a very nice dinner.  It’s great to have a good choice of quality produce here, also I love the sights and sounds, big trains, pulling never ending cars (They call train trucks cars here). The whistle of the locos and the sounds of the police cars make me think of Casey Jones and Hill Street Blues!

Yesterday we headed downtown, we took in the Elliot Bay marina on the way as they had an offer for longer term visitors I wanted to check out. The city have made great bike trails here, but sadly for us the Seattle port Authority made a new cruise terminal dock on top of the trail, at least that what it looks like on google maps, so we had quite a detour to get to the marina.However once there we signed up for 2 weeks berthing. We cycled onto the space needle area, as we planned to spend a few hours in the Pop Music Museum there, however when we arrived it was getting late and I was surprised to see the admission fee was nearly $30 each, and I don’t even like grunge. $30 buys a lot of shackles! So we decided that Kathy would come back later in the week and spend the whole day there to get her moneys worth while I took my $30 down to the docks to see what I could find (In the chandleries).

One thing I hadn’t really appreciated about Seattle was the amount of hills around, for some reason I had always thought of it as a coastal town on a strip of coast in the NW of America, but looking at a map it’s a complete mess of mainland, islands, islands that are actually connected to mainland by spits, canals and lakes.Once again I find myself in a place where I think I need a year or more to fully get to know the geography and a bit of the culture.

After the Museum recce we headed back hoping to take in one of the other big supermarkets here. It was going to be a ‘Fred Meyer’ or ‘Trader Joe’, both great names I thought. We followed the shoreline of Lake Union on the way back.Then over to Ballard across the Ship Canal. There is no shortage of homeless people sleeping on the sidewalks and in tents on grass verges here.

We ended up at a gigantic Fred Meyer, that was like a B&Q and Tesco in one. Good prices too, so stocked up we headed back to the boat.

This morning (Wednesday) we slept in, and at 11:30 slipped our berth in Shilshole and motored the 4.9NM West then South East to Elliot Bay Marina where we are checked in for 14 days. It’s lovely here, very peaceful,  It’s about 25 minutes to cycle into the centre of Seattle from here, so I expect to be doing a bit of that, also it’s close to Ballard where there are stacks of marine companies that can help me get some of the boat jobs completed.

Plenty of boats sending out AIS signals here.

 

Paul Collister

 

We left Nanaimo at a decent time, around 10:00 to make the 90 minute passage to Dodd Narrows. At full flood the currents here are over 10 knots and this is considered one of the most treacherous passes in the region.

Slack water was around midday and we actually arrived an hour early.  I watched a yacht go through using my binoculars, it looked a little bumpy but I figured we could make it. We had the ebb tide with us giving us about 4 knots of push, and by going now it was less likely we would meet any boats heading in the opposite direction. It has a bend in it so you cant see the exit. There were a lot of other yachts and power boats hanging around for slack water. We put out a ‘Securitie’ announcement on channel 16 for any concerned vessels to contact us before we entered the narrows then headed in. I would soon see how difficult it could get, there where whirlpools all around us and standing waves in places, but right in the middle it looked calm. This didn’t stop the water from yanking the boat off course several times and I had to be quick with the steering to get us back on course. It only took about 5 minutes in all to get through then we were into boring calm waters again. We proceeded south towards America, next stop Prevost Island and a little bay called Annette bay. This was another lovely wooded calm spot, but quite popular with other boaters. There was a floating holiday home in the bay which was tied to a mooring buoyLater in the day the tide turned and we got to see a different aspect of the house. For the people sitting on the deck in their loungers it must be great for the view to be changing all the time.It was a very peaceful evening there and early the next day we were up and off to Sidney spit, a small nature reserve just of Sidney, Vancouver Is. 

There was a small jetty and mooring buoys. The chart and guides show anchoring locations around the buoys so to save a few pounds we dropped the anchor, first time failed and I recovered the anchor completely covered in Kelp, we motored to the other side of the mooring buoys and tried again, this time it set but then under a good pull from our engine the hook jumped out and I recovered the anchor to find an old rope wrapped around it.  By now I was thinking we were going to struggle and boats were arriving fast with only a couple of free mooring buoys left, so I motored over to one, Kathy took the helm and expertly brought us alongside one buoy which I hooped a rope through and that was it, job done, retire to a diet coke for me and a Pinot Grigio for Kathy.

We stayed for two nights here, the first night we walked the length of the spit along a shingle beach, the next day we walked the forest trails around the island.

Next we headed off to Port Friday which is in the USA on the Island of San Juan. This was a little stressful as we knew we had to go through the US Customs and Border Protection officials to be allowed in. We had already got our mandatory visas in London last year, and had phoned ahead to inform them of our arrival, but having heard of some problems people have had at airports when they are in anyway ‘different’ from your regular joe, and stories of passwords being demanded so they can search your phones, facebook accounts etc, we wondered how this would go. Another worry was to do with what food we could bring in. We still have a few dozen tins of tuna, beans, custard etc, some cheese and soy products. The website is quite vague and refers you to other departments that suggest you contact them if you’re not sure. For example most animal products are banned, but that doesnt cover cheese or chicken, but does cover beef.
As it turned out the worry was all for nothing, the biggest problem we had was getting alongside on the customs dock. When we arrived it was full with two huge superyachts, once they moved a queue of returning american power boats jostled to get in, we waited for them to clear, but we had to be careful as the water off the dock was also the airstrip for the float planes, which seemed to be taking off and arriving every 5 minutes.
Once ashore the CBP lady explained the procedure to me, I had to fill in a form, much like you do on a plane, she inspected the boat by standing on the dock and looking at it. She asked if we had any goods to declare, I said cheese, she said “CHEESE IS OK” and we were done,  She was probably the most no nonsense lady I have ever met, I had thought about being jovial, but decided against that. We got 9 month visas and given a cruising permit to make our lives easier when travelling around.

Port of Friday Harbour is a massive place, with a great range of vessels berthed here

We spent one night here and left at 5:50 AM the next day for Port Ludlow. We had to leave early as the forecast was for stronger winds in the afternoon and adverse currents, as it turned out the currents were bad enough and the weather forecast was wrong again. Still we got to Port Ludlow in 9 hours.On the way we saw many luxury houses set back in the trees along the coast. They looked wonderful and I mused on the fact that I might have had one if I had been born in Seattle. I was writing software for a word processor, much like Microsoft Word , back in the 80’s. Had I been in Seattle, I might have been on the Microsoft team writing Word, and by now be head of word processor hyphenation and line wrapping, or some other wonderful title. My small allotment of company stock might have bought me one of these waterfront mansions, and as I said to Kathy that I might also be on my third young blonde leggy wife by now too. She pointed out that if that was the case, I probably would be broke and have lost the house by then!

But back to reality and a sharp lookout had to be kept, these are busy shipping lanes, but fortunately they were quite quiet for us, however we could hear naval activity on Ch16 and the local VTS (local traffic management) channel, I couldn’t figure it out until I saw a submarine and escort vessels approaching us. We were planning to cross the traffic separation lane soon and they would be in my way, so I crossed early,  basically at a right angle to their path, which won’t have looked good to them. They weren’t transmitting AIS so I couldn’t work out how close we would get, but we were over the separation zone long before they got anywhere near, so I was a bit disappointed that a high speed coast guard rib was dispatched to tell me to watch out as there was a submarine passing by, Duh, and that I would be ok if I kept my course, which I thought was fairly obvious. Talking to a local later in the day I heard this is very normal, and in fact they will buzz any yacht in the vicinity and chase them ‘into the hedges’ as the guy explained.Arriving into Port Ludlow saw the wind drop to zero, and the sun come out, the fog left and it became a glorious day. Port Ludlow is a small community town, with a few shops, a marina which is part of a Golf course resort, and a few holiday homes and ‘condos’. 

This was our last deadline, the Bob Perry Rendezvous, we have no more deadlines other than a desire to fly home mid October. The Perry rendezvous happens every year and is a getting together of all boats and/or owners that were designed by Robert Perry. These are Tayanas, Babas, Pandas, Tashibas, some Hans Christians, Passport Yachts, and a gang of others. Boats mostly arrived on Friday and we spent Friday night walking the docks and meeting the owners, swapping tales and checking out the differences in our boats. I met some lovely people here. Saturday Bob had organised talks by two people, a professional boat delivery skipper, and a Rigger from Port Townsend Rigging. That was fun, later we had a big potluck dinner in the pavilion here, followed by a performance from the ‘Perry Rendezvous All Star Band’ which was six guys in the form of Crosby/stills/nash&young/Eagles/Stones with Bob Perry himself playing Bass guitar.  They were pretty good I must say, not my kind of music, I was born just a little too late for that, but Kathy loved it. Bob is on the far left of the pictures.

I got chatting to one of the guys sitting on our table during the meal, he was very friendly and keen to offer me tips on moorage. He, like many there was a friend of Bob’s and he also had a boat, but not a Perry one. But he also had a truck, which was quite a beast. I was keen to see his boat, which turned out to be just as impressive, and had me thinking of what kind of boat I would like next. Something small, fast and maneuverable, but mostly, something that looks great.Finally I’m in a cold place, at night here with clear skies the temperature drops. The waters here are quite cold and consequently the sea breezes are very chilling, so at long last, after many years I was able to put my Irish sweater into service. It’s doing a great job, thanks to Tim and Asta who bought it for me as a present, some time ago. Tomorrow (Monday morning), we leave around 8am for Seattle propper, we are booked into Shilsole Marina, just north of Ballard, once there we will have to find somewhere affordable to stay for the next four weeks as the daily rates are too much for us. Thankfully the people at the rendezvous have been really helpful with tips and suggestions, and a few have offered to meet up with us in town and show us around.

Paul Collister.

I met a couple of guys who had boats next to us in French Cove, one was from Nanaimo and suggested we try to get a space at the Yacht club there, so I phoned and found out that we could stay there as we were members of another yacht club (RYA & CA), but because we didn’t have a reciprocal agreement we would have to pay $30 a night, which was pretty good, and only a little more expensive than a mooring buoy.

So we untied and headed out of the government harbour to make the short 4 hour passage to Nanaimo. as we turned the dog leg at the exit I shouted to Kathy to get the revs right up, I could see the big waves crashing into the marina entrance and our gentle motoring wasn’t going to get through them. A few minutes later it was like being back in the ocean, 15 knot headwinds with big waves and the bowsprit getting soaked by the waves. I knew the forecast was for strong winds, but this was more than expected and from the wrong direction. We motored south for a while but the wind was building as were the waves and as soon as our speed through water dropped to 3 knots I put up the mainsail with a double reef and 75% staysail and we started to tack our way towards our destination. Now I dropped the revs on the engine right back and we sailed close hauled for the next 5 hours until we reached Nanaimo.The sky turned black and it started to rain, but just before we arrived the weather moved on, the wind dropped, the sea calmed and into Nanaimo we motored to look for our berth. by the time we tied up the sun was out and I was pleased to be there, but had quite enjoyed the sail.

You can see our planned route in blue, our actual track is in red, not a bad angle on the wind really. There is a dotted/dashed trapezoid shaped box on the chart known as “Area Golf Whisky” This is a military  exclusion zone, you can see I tacked over the western end, then across the middle. I could see the Patrol ships on the AIS but they didn’t bother me. I had read somewhere that they only use it on weekdays. It’s used for testing torpedoes, apparently they launch them at one end of the zone towards the other. All along the seabed of the zone they have sensors to record the progress of the torpedos, data is fed back to the base on Ballena island, which we tacked around.

Arriving into the marina down the narrow newcastle strait we had to watch out for seaplanes and ferries that use the area a lot. The seaplanes are very common around here.

The next day (Today Sunday) we took a short ferry ride over to newcastle island, and walked along the nature trails. No sooner had we started the walk than we saw a couple of lovely racoons staring at us.

Next we saw a deer just off the track, which was a releif to me, as I figured the cougar would much prefer deer to human.

The rest of the island was trees and beach, No real sign of it’s industrial past as a big coal mine. 

It is amazing the driftwood you get here on the beach! In the morning we head south, we need to leave about 09:30 to reach Dodd Narrows with plenty of time before slack water.

Paul Collister

 

Before reporting the delights of this lovely part of Canada, here are a couple of pictures I didn’t get a chance to put on the blog during the passage – my veggie pasties and one of the better loaves of bread I baked. There was little else to photograph, with the outside being a uniform grey or off-white for most of the weeks.

After five weeks at sea, we had the best of all welcomes as we drew closer to land. It was exciting enough to see such things as trees (and there are lots of those here) and hills and buildings emerging through the fog, but when Paul described seeing ‘bear-like’ creatures lying on their backs with ‘scrunched up old man’ faces, as he put it, I knew they would be sea otters. There were lots of them, and they could be seen clearly through the binoculars in distinct little groups –diving and surfacing with their little front paws drawn together on their chests. It seems we were privileged because we haven’t seen a single one since then. Closer in, I spotted spurts of water rising some distance away near the coastline on the starboard side, like bursts of steam. Paul said it would be a whale, and sure enough, a huge black and white hulk broke the surface, then disappeared under the water, its distinct fanned tail showing for a few seconds before repeating the process. It was fascinating, especially after so long at sea without seeing any sign of life apart from birds. I wasn’t quick enough to photograph it but thankfully Paul managed to film it before it disappeared.

We spent a fabulous week at Fisherman’s Wharf in Port Hardy, named as I’d guessed, after Nelson’s Vice Admiral on The Victory, Thomas Masterman Hardy. The marina was full but this turned out to be a bonus because the pontoons at the wharf had a great community atmosphere. The place couldn’t be described as streamlined and neat but its chaotic, higgledy piggledy layout served to make it informal and welcoming. Lots of people stopped to chat. Our courtesy flag, the only one flying, indicated our visitor status and we had the story of our passage off pat after several times of repeating it to curious passers-by. People were always impressed and had lots of questions about the trip from Japan and our future plans. Karl, a solo sailor from Latvia who befriended us, expressed alarm on learning our intention to traverse the Inside Passage down to Seattle. He told us he would be far too nervous to do it. I wondered why but Paul said he was just being over cautious. It seems all that is needed is to get the timings right for when you enter each strait, passage and river along the route. I could understand Karl’s anxiety once Paul explained about the intricacies involved with the planning and tide times in order to avoid hazards. It would be akin to getting on a roller coaster, which once underway, had you committed until the ride ended. Karl was also travelling to Seattle but would be taking the Pacific Ocean route. We hope to meet up with him in Seattle and swap journey notes.

The forested landscape and coastal mountain range surrounding Port Hardy makes it ideal for outdoor pursuits and nature trails. Information in the harbour office, advertised hikes, wildlife tours, fishing trips and great surfing spots to name but a few. For our first evening back on land, all I wanted was a glass of wine and a bowl of chips. We’d had to wait on the boat for hours after arriving because of a mix up over customs, who thought we were in the city of Vancouver as opposed to Vancouver Island. By the time this was sorted out it was fairly late and the local pub had stopped serving food (last orders were at 9 30). The Inn further down the road had a 30 minute longer time limit and we sat at a table overlooking Hardy Bay watching the sun set enjoying the first meal someone else had cooked in weeks. The drink was most welcome too.

 

Naturally there were a lot of jobs to be done to get the boat looking shipshape, both inside and out, but we made time to walk and cycle around the area and got to know it quite well. One of our first excursions, to get mobile phone data led us to a popular café, which is also a bookshop and has local crafts and paintings for sale. Café Guido offers free wifi to customers and after learning of the extraordinary high prices for phone packages in Canada, we opted to use public places for internet use. A visit to the supermarket later on revealed that it wasn’t only data packages that were expensive here. Despite the gloriously wide range of choice and the intriguing products on offer there, I had to curb my enthusiasm due to the steep prices even for basic things like bread and fruit and vegetables. Still, it was nice to be able to read the ingredients on the labels and of course, to find ‘real’ bread on display.

We had to continue sleeping on the bunks in the cabin for a couple of nights because water had found its way onto the mattress during the passage. That, along with the usual clothes, bedding and towels had to be cleaned and dried. The weather was perfect for this. One of the first things I noticed on land was the contrast from the Asian climate. When it’s hot and sunny here, it’s dry and clear. There’s no humidity, and in the evenings after the sun has gone down, it’s positively chilly instead of sultry and sweaty.  During one early morning walk up to the office to use the wifi, I spotted the biggest bird I have ever seen outside of a wildlife centre perched on the railings. I didn’t know it then but it was a bald eagle and it was attracting quite a bit of attention so I guessed it wasn’t that common an occurrence. People were gathering to photograph and film it, for which it just remained still, occasionally turning its head from side to side, completely unfazed. One boy of about ten, told me he’d always wanted to see one this close. It seemed all the local wildlife was coming out in force for us then. I wondered when we’d see our first bear! Black bears live in the area, as well as Grizzlies and brown ones apparently. Not very au fait with the differences, a glimpse of any one of them would thrill me to bits – from a safe distance obviously.

We had a wonderful cycle ride along the Quatse Loop and Estuary Trail one afternoon. Info on the leaflet we had stated that resident black bears are often seen ascending from the forest to look for a salmon meal. All we saw were the gorgeous pine forests, clear babbling brooks and stunning views across the bay as we rode through its rural lanes and paths. Like most of Vancouver Island, Port Hardy was home to ‘First Nations’ indigenous communities before the coming of European explorers. The culture and history of the Kwakiutl First Nation are celebrated and told of throughout the town, in the museum, on signs along the boardwalk and trails, and in sculptures and totems on the promenade. There were countless books on sale in the shop relating the stories and histories of First Nation tribes, and much as I’d like to know more about it, it’s too vast a subject to delve into on a visit such as this. I contented myself with a guide to the Inside Passage, just to check out the experiences of others on its whirlpools, rapids and tide rips (for a ‘what could possibly go wrong’ scenario). More than anything, it will be thrilling to be passing by the locations that Captain George Vancouver encountered in his quest to find the Northwest Passage in 1792.

Our first destination along the infamous route was to be Siontula on Malcolm Island in The Queen Charlotte Strait. Before setting off we had to wait to be separated from the boat that had rafted up next to us the day before, and then headed over to the fuel dock to restock. A somewhat chillier trip than the day trips we were accustomed to in Asia, it did at least give me the chance to try out my new hot water bottle up in the cockpit. I didn’t want to miss the stunning views on either side of us by huddling down in the cabin. The sea was flat calm and we motored for all of the five hour journey.

We rafted next to a fishing boat in the small harbour, checked in and set off to check out the town. It had warmed up by then and the walk was a lot longer than I expected. We passed some quaint looking houses on the uphill road to town. One of them had a sign proclaiming the road was called ‘Raggedy Ass’! The tiny town is proud of its eccentric status. Siontula means ‘place of harmony’ in Finnish and was set up by Finnish immigrants at the end of the 19th century. Its aim was to ‘create a society where property was communal; everyone shared; everyone participated and everyone was equal, including women’ – quite a revolutionary concept for the times. Their belief in ‘sound body, sound mind’ included the banning of alcohol and the failure of this first community is apparently due to its leader being more idealistic than practical. There may be a link there ;-). Another leader took the reins and lasted for four years but financial constraints forced the island to be returned to British Colombia’s government.

The few remaining residents in Siontula formed a community with their own vision. They purchased land and turned to commercial fishing and logging by hand. Pride of place was the Co-Operative Store, built in 1909, a fascinating building which we came upon as we entered the main street. The posters and flyers attached to the walls indicate the ethos of the town is still aiming for the ‘hippy’ ideal of freedom and cooperation. It reminded me a little of Glastonbury. The focus is on green issues, protecting the environment, organic locally made produce and bringing residents together with seasonal events such as an annual Spring Bird Count, Mother’s Day Plant Sale, a Pet ‘Pawrade’ and Winter Bazaar. Here, local dogs and cats have right-of-way, so if you see one lying in the road you must let it sleep and go around it. Everyone we came across greeted us with a cheery hello or smile. There was a little deer nibbling at a hedge in one of the well-kept gardens overlooking the coast. The place was certainly living up to its Utopian goal. I couldn’t help noticing that one of the signs was for the next meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. Another, was from an outraged dog owner appealing for information about the driver who had knocked over and killed her beloved pet. She’d managed to get a detailed description of his van, but he must have been a visitor because it’s the sort of town where everyone knows each other – and he clearly wasn’t aware of the ‘pets having right of way’ rule. We (ok, I) wanted to go to the local pub which had a grand view of the bay, but as we tried the door, a lady cycling by told us it didn’t open until 4 30. It was too long to hang around, as we’d pretty much done the town by then, and a 30 minute return walk lay ahead of us. I liked Siontula.

Port Neville the following day was a tinier version of Siontula. A Norwegian man named Hansen had settled there in the 1890s. Thanks to his building log cabins there the port became a stop for Union Steamships and Hansen began trading with the local tribes and soon other settlers and loggers arrived. In 1895 he became the first postmaster there and the post office/general store carried on trading until 2010. It was this abandoned building that caught my eye from our anchorage, although I didn’t know it was deserted then. The trip there had been great, with stunningly beautiful snow-capped mountainous landscapes on either side of us. I sat on the sunny coach roof or deck-sides for the whole time watching it all. We’d hoped to spot whales on Robson Bight, an ecological preserve where orcas go to rub their bellies on the flat stones in the summer (no one knows why) but it was sadly empty.

We dinghied over to the still-standing government dock and tied up underneath it. As we got out, a lady on an American yacht that was tied to the jetty warned us that if we were walking in far, to watch out for black bears and for Grizzlies because sightings of both had been reported nearby. I wasn’t sure if I felt elated or scared! I just wanted to have a look at the empty store, which looked so much like the one from the TV programme The Waltons, it was uncanny. There were a few other dwellings but they seemed to be holiday lets. I think the area is uninhabited since the Hansen family left a few years ago. After peering in the windows of the store, which serves as a museum for pre-booked guides, we walked into the wooded area and bravely on to the spot where the woman said the bears had been seen. It was deathly silent and a bit eerie – easy to imagine one springing out from the trees. Apparently you’re supposed to make yourself look bigger, and yell loudly if confronted. I didn’t fancy putting this to the test. We returned to the dinghy to head for our next ‘must see’, the curiously-named Robber’s Nob. This is a cape where the Hansen children through generations used to go to picnic and play and is a notable beauty spot. It took ages to get there but there was plenty to see on the way. The sea was littered with huge triffid-like seaweed plants that we had to be wary of getting caught in the propeller. The buildings on this shore were more like those in teenage horror films set in summer camps, like Friday the 13th rather than the wholesome Waltons. It was decidedly creepy. Very quiet, still, empty and with an abandoned atmosphere, despite one of the buildings looking well kept up. I declined Paul’s offer to stop and explore. Looking it up later, we discovered it became something of a hippy community in the 60s, hence the deserted buildings. I guess the newer one is a holiday let or summer retreat. Ideal for an away-from-it-all break, or if you enjoy complete silence and solitude in the dark woods.

From there we journeyed on to one of the best anchorages I’ve seen so far. Called Small Inlet in Kanish Bay on Quadra Island, it was breathtakingly gorgeous. There was something to delight most of the senses: the aroma of pine and cedar, the sight of the timeless wilderness all around us (and we saw a seal here), the cries of birds and cicadas, and the fish jumping. Once we were anchored at about 2pm, it was gloriously sunny and there were only three other boats in the area. The pictures speak for themselves – it’s going to be hard to beat the tranquillity and sheer beauty of Kanish Bay. It was so still it was hard to tell we were at anchor. We enjoyed a dinghy trip and obviously took lots of pictures. The forest around us looked to me like the ideal habitat for bears, but if they were in there we didn’t see any.

We moved on to Campbell River the next day (Monday 6th August). To get there we had to cross the infamous Seymour Narrows. It’s this location that makes so many mariners anxious, but as Paul has said, it was a bit of an anti-climax when we crossed it. Not that I’m complaining. At full flood it would have been like being on a fairground log flume from his description, and I was happy enough to forego that experience! It’s safe to say I’ve fallen for British Colombia in a big way, despite the steep cost of things. Our next stop on the journey to Seattle, Prevost Island, takes in another notoriously tricky crossing; this one is called Dodd Narrows and it’s imperative to get the tide times right when going into it. Jonathan Raban describes trying to make it ‘before the flood tide turned it into a breakneck slalom run’!

Kathy