Sailing in Canadian Gulf Islands

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Sailing Vacation - 1997

When Nancy arrived home from work Friday, August 29, we packed her car with gear, clothes, food, etc. for our voyage to the Canadian Gulf Islands. We dropped my car off at our West Bay marina in Olympia and drove two hours north to Port Townsend, a port city which is the gateway to the Strait of Juan de Fuca at north Puget Sound. My friend Pete Janni and I took our sailboat Le Sauris, a 28 foot Newport, from Olympia to Port Townsend Marina the previous weekend.

We had a nice dinner in old downtown Port Townsend. Afterwards we went to the marina and transferred all of our gear from Nancy’s car to the sailboat. I checked and verified that the waypoints in my Garmin GPS were accurate for crossing the Strait from Port Townsend to Cattle Pass in the San Juan Islands, which is a 23 mile voyage in open water. We turned in, excited about our adventure.

Fog gripped the marina the next morning. Hopeful that it would quickly burn off, after a small breakfast in the cabin of Le Sauris, we made the boat ready for passage. This included unfolding and installing the seats in our new Porta-Bote which we were going to use as a dinghy. The Porta-Bote is a little over ten feet in length and folds flat to about six inches. It is made of four sheets of polypropylene that are joined and hinged at the keel and chimes. The flexible hull is a two piece, concave-vee planing surface which absorbs the impact of chop and waves. At less than seventy pounds, I can man handle it alone with some effort. A 28 pound Nissan 3.5 horsepower motor scoots it along at planing speed if you are tired of using the oars.

We cast off and headed for Point Wilson where Admiralty Inlet at north Puget Sound joins the Strait. The gray wall of fog was a barrier that forced us to turn back before loosing sight of land. We motored back to Port Hudson Marina, about two miles north of the Port Townsend Marina. So Saturday was a two mile day.

With time on our hands, we tried the dinghy and motor for the first time. What fun. We zipped along the coast to Point Wilson light house and verified our decision to turn back because of the fog. It was vacation and we spent a relaxing day at Port Hudson. Nancy went for a walk along the beach line while I began the novel London.

Sunday, there was less fog, so we again headed for Point Wilson only to be foiled by the heavy fog still hanging in the Strait. As we wavered about what to do, we noticed another boat, with RADAR, attempting to make the passage. With about a fifty yard visibility, we decided to ride this other sailboat’s coat tail. The name of the other boat was Heaven Sent, which seemed appropriate.

Heaven Sent was slower than our Le Sauris, but seemed to be on an erratic course compared to the one I had entered into the GPS. At one point, it appeared that Heaven Sent was going to circle back. I put my motor into neutral to give them room to make a turn. When they didn’t turn, I pushed into forward gear and nothing happened; the boat stayed in neutral. Heaven Sent began to disappear into the fog. We tried to raise them on the radio.

This is when Nancy sent out her first ever “Mayday” message on international VHF. As soon as she declared Mayday, I shouted, “No, not Mayday.” Too late. The radio crackled and the voice of Vancouver Station replied to the Mayday call. “This is Vancouver Station. We are responding to your Mayday call. Please describe your location, and your situation. Over” All other communication on channel 16 ceased and ears listened intently. The “ears” are eager for the drama of a Mayday call. I took over the radio and explained to Vancouver Station that the term “Mayday” was a mistake; an inaccurate description of our situation, and that we were not in distress. They took the name of our boat, and we are now a matter of record.

After this, we learned that the boat won’t go into forward gear at a fast rpm; by reducing the engine speed to idle, I was able to engage forward gear. Nancy spied the upper mast of Heaven Sent off the port side and we were able to reacquire our piper. It wasn’t long after that however, that we realized that Heaven Sent was not going where we wanted to go. Our desired destination was Cattle Pass between San Juan Island and Lopez Island, and according to the compass, Heaven Sent appeared to be heading in the direction of Victoria.

Nan and I huddled and made a strategic decision to break off from Heaven Sent. The GPS waypoints were verified for our desired route. I had calculated them conservatively to avoid the rocky shoals of Smith Island, which was about midway in our crossing. Off into the fog we turned following our electronic highway. After a couple of hours, visibility started to improve. About five miles from Cattle Pass we began to see land. Within three miles, we broke into clear skies.

Our passage through Cattle Pass was with a flood current of about three knots, which made for a bumpy ride through a moderate rip current. Even with at 28 feet, the water holes of 2 to 3 feet jostled Le Sauris like a frisky bronco.

From Cattle Pass, we motored up the San Juan Channel past Friday Harbor. The sun was out and the waters of San Juan archipelago greeted us with reflections of blue skies and magnificent vistas of the islands. Our destination was Deer Harbor at the south west side of Orcas Island. Since it was the middle of the three day Labor weekend, the harbor was fairly crowded late Sunday afternoon. With our big Bruce anchor, we swung on a secure hook. It was toddy time after a long day.

Every evening, as part of my captain duties, I review the charts for where we want to go the next day. I establish a route by setting waypoints for which I calculate the degrees and minutes of longitude and latitude and enter the waypoints into our GPS, which runs from either batteries or from a plug inserted into a lighter socket similar to what is in an auto. The GPS saved our sweet seats in the fog earlier in the day, and I use it as a tool to help determine our position. Nevertheless, it would be nice for someone to post signs at various locations on all of these islands indicating their names. Even with all of these maps and waypoints, it sometimes gets tricky trying to figure out where in the heck you are.

Monday, we entered Canadian waters. We were going back to Bedwell to clear customs, where we had to give up some delicious red Washington apples and some oranges. We did remember not to bring not more than two bottles of wine across the border. We stayed at the marina in Bedwell Harbor to enjoy the shower facilities. Before dinner at an onshore pub, we launched the dinghy and cruised the shoreline.

Bedwell is located on South Pender Island which is separated from North Pender Island by a small channel that goes under a bridge connecting the two islands. This was our third visit to Bedwell, once by land and twice by sea. If you received our ‘95 and ‘96 vacation reports, you will remember these Pender sisters and our attraction to them.

We motored the dinghy through the narrow channel which had a surprisingly quick current, to Browning Harbor. The Porta-bote dinghy turned out to be a delightful addition to our cruising experience. With the little outboard motor, we were able to access and explore watery nooks that were inaccessible to our fixed keel sailboat, and that were beyond comfortable oaring range.

Tuesday was new frontier day for us as we nosed Le Sauris into new territory. We went north through Swanson Channel, yielding to huge ferries going through Active Pass, on their way to and from mainland Vancouver, BC, and Sidney, the marine terminus gateway to the lovely city of Victoria on the southern end of Vancouver Island. Proceeding north along Captain’s Passage, we located an inlet, in Glenthorne Passage, on the northern side of Prevost Island.

We slowly navigated past two small islets, Owl Island and Secret Island, past Glenthorne Point to a protected cove and dropped big Bruce among three other boats nesting in the anchorage. After settling in, it was dinghy exploration time. There were a couple fjord like inlets, Annette Inlet and Shelby Cove, to explore on this island and we had an enjoyable afternoon of it. Before dinner, I rowed the dinghy around the cove to poke around the hard rock walls of the anchorage. These islands are mountain tops which don’t level out uniformly at the waterline. As the tides measure up and down the sides of the verdant mountains, layers of rock formations reveal an interesting geological history. For those who take time to see, all is punctuated with the glory of nature, past and present.

The nights were adorned with what seemed to be jeweled blankets of shimmering points of light. I was ready to rename this spot, “Bush Points”. George would be pleased. How impressive to contemplate whether some of the light arriving now from these distant suns may somehow be linked in time to the events that created this magnificent waterscape so long ago. Am I chilled out or what? After toddies, we fired up the barbee which hangs off the stern of the boat for a grilled chicken dinner. I brought along a cribbage board and cards for the trip, but Nancy had not expressed much interest in playing, so I decided not to suggest cards. We luxuriated under the anchor shade, talked, read books and enjoyed the wonderful view.

Wednesday was a short hour and a half motor to Ganges Harbor on Salt Spring Island. Ganges is one of the larger settlements in the Gulf Islands. We stayed at a marina with showers. We resupplied our provisions from a local grocery and enjoyed a dinner onshore. We also did a runabout in the dinghy to explore some of the other nearby inlets (Madrona Bay) and the Chain Islands. We really covered some distance with the Porta-bote. After dinner, lounging in the cockpit of Le Sauris, I decided not to mention cribbage to Nancy; I would let her warm up to it at her own pace.

Until Thursday, we had been motoring for the most part. We sailed a little Wednesday afternoon after we arrived at Ganges, but the wind played out after about an hour and we returned to the marina. Thursday was a good wind day, and we set sail as soon as we cleared the harbor area. It was a full sail from Ganges Harbor past Deadman Islands, Welbury Bay, Long Harbor, around Nose Point into Trincomali Channel.

A full genoa and main spirited Le Sauris and our tag along dinghy across the channel where we passed between little Julia Island and Phillimore Point of Galiano Island, into Paine Bay. Turing into the bay, the wind pushed us from astern in a glorious angel wing setting into Montague Harbor.

What a glorious arrival to a magnificent harbor. We found a buoy in the marine park. During our ‘95 Bike vacation, we visited this place and even chartered an afternoon sail on the White Cloud, a huge catamaran sailing vessel. It was a vision come true to return to this glorious retreat in our own sailboat. Life was complete.

We have a huge folding umbrella called an Anchor Shade which we set up on sunny afternoons to keep cool and out of the sun. We used it a lot this trip. Our cruise in ‘96 to the San Juans was overcast and drizzly. This year, the weather was bright, sunny and relatively warm.

Our arrival at Montague was not without expectation or unfulfillment. On our ’95 bike trip we discovered the Hummingbird Pub on Galiano Island, and we were going back. When we day sailed on the White Cloud in ’95, we learned that the Pub had a bus which shuttled patrons from and to the harbor. We caught the 6:00 p.m. juking, jazz slapping, pyropainted school bus that seldom left first gear going up, down and round the curves and hills from the harbor to the Pub. A bulb horn and passenger cacophony greeted everyone who came within our wake of celebration.

We were seated next to the cage of an old acquaintance, a panhandling, morsel smooching cockatoo that preened, postured and danced for treats. The Humming Bird is where we discovered our affection for real apple cider, and we honored the memory of that discovery with several glasses of the libation. Nancy enjoyed fried shrimp and I had fish and chips. We arrived back at Le Sauris just before dark. I thought that we were too full to suggest a game of cribbage.

“What about a game of cribbage?” Nancy proposed. “Well, why not,” I supposed. There are at least two versions of how things went from there. Sometimes, it pays not to say anything while paying cribbage. I was trying to be encouraging, not condescending. I’ll admit that while we really may not have been “neck and neck,” my intent was to be encouraging and indicate to Nancy that she could still win the game despite what appeared to be a, “you can’t even see my butt from way back there” position on the peg board.

I had a lucky lead, but I had managed to blow such a significant lead to Pete Janni when he taught me how to play cribbage when we brought the sailboat from Olympia to Port Townsend a little over a week before.

As I write this, I can feel a wave of support developing for Nancy, even without your knowing her side of the story. No effort of encouragement goes unpunished. And so was the case in our cribbage match. I won the first game. What I can’t recall is whether she cursed me during the first or second game. I remember saying, “neck and neck” during both games. And to prove my point, she did come from behind the second game and race past me to a significant win.

Nancy and I both agree that it was in the second game that she used an unflattering phrase to describe the style with which I played the game. I think it included a gerund, but she insists that it was limited to an adjective. So there you have it. We are tied at a game apiece and she announced at the end of the second game that she will not play again, that cribbage is simply too competitive and intense an undertaking.

We enjoyed our first day at Montague, we stayed another day. We rowed over to the provincial park for a stroll along trails and beaches. We took the dinghy for a runabout. We enjoyed a relaxing day sans cribbage.

Saturday morning, we navigated from Montague down Trincomali Channel to the intersection of Navy Channel and Swansen Channel, which completed an circumnavigation of Prevost Island. We went past James Point, which I will come back to later, and entered Otter Bay where we secured a slip at the marina. I did a load of laundry at the marina and Nancy and I both enjoyed hot showers.

We knew of Otter Bay from our ’95 bike trip. It is on North Pender Island, not too far from Beauty Rest By the Sea B&B. We used the dinghy to tour the shoreline of James Point on which the B&B is located. I still recommend this B&B as a soul enhancer. We motored past the grotto and the high rock from which I had captured on film a flaming sunset two years earlier, which is displayed on a dresser in our bedroom. This is a piece of heaven placed here in the Gulf Islands. On the other side of James Point we encounter an otter which pretended to be a porpoise racing the bow of the dinghy. For dinner, we walked to Poplars restaurant which recreated the sapid stir fry shrimp specialty I enjoyed two years earlier.

Sunday morning, we crossed back into the U.S. and declared ourselves at Roche Harbor on San Juan Island. From Roche, we sailed to Reid Harbor on Stuart Island, backtracking the same route we took on our ’96 cruise to the San Juans. Monday was a long day as we sailed and motored to Friday Harbor for diesel fuel and then motored across a fogless Strait of Juan de Fuca to Port Townsend. On Tuesday we sailed to Kingston. Wednesday night found us in Gig Harbor. It is sad to report that Thursday morning we were forced to consign big Bruce to the fouled anchor gods of the deep. We simply could not retrieve Bruce from its cradle on the harbor floor. The bow of the boat tipped as we tried to power over the anchor location.

On Thursday, we had a wild ride through the Tacoma Narrows as a bracing southwesterly met a strong flood tide. The same conditions affronted us in Dana Passage before we reached our Budd Inlet. But we arrived safe but tired at our West Bay home port of Olympia Thursday afternoon. We cleaned up Le Sauris, broke down and stowed the Porta-bote and motor, and hauled our gear to my car which we had left at the marina.

We spent Thursday night in our spacious bed at home, although it seemed to have a little rock of the sailboat’s vberth in it. Friday, we drove to Port Townsend to pick up Nancy’s car. We spent Friday night in Port Townsend. As I followed Nancy on the drive home Saturday morning, I remembered the wonderful time we enjoyed in our cruise to the Gulf Islands and how blessed we were not to have any serious problems. I also wondered when Nancy would be ready for our cribbage sugar match.

Post Script. Bruce II has arrived by UPS, and is ready for duty.

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Photos

Cattle Pass
Entering the San Juan Islands through Cattle Pass

Under Sail
Northward beat toward Gulf Islands

At Anchor
Sharing a protected anchorage.

At Anchor
Sharing a protected anchorage.

Genoa Muscle
The genoa powers the vessel under sail.

Where Are We?
The GPS tracks a preplotted course, avoiding below surface hazzards.

Dingy
Nan tries her hand at the dingy.

Angel Wing
Showing off, majestically!

Nan at Helm
Nan is a fine skipper.

Under Sail
Fine sailing in Gulf Islands.

Paddy at Helm
The captain takes a turn at the helm.

Anchorage at Sunset
Grab a toddy; enjoy the veiw!