The decision to 'go back out' was made for me. My regular Club Dock is occupied for July, and I sure did not want to remain in Bouncy Ville (Arbutus Ridge) any longer than neccessary.
Back anchored in smooth Tod Inlet and visiting Butchard Gardens. The roses are out by the thousand, as well as the begonias with blooms as large as dinner plates. The whole place shows itself in full summer splendour.
On the boat - so far everything is mercifully uneventful.
The cove is almost empty, the water rich dark bottle green with the reflection of the coniferous trees, that cover the surrounding hillsides like a lush green blanket. White translucent jelly fish wing their way past the boat in large tranquil schools. The herons perch in the trees, a family of Canada Geese patrols the waters, knowing EXACTLY when anybody consumes anything edible in their cockpit - that's when they line up, honking discreetly for attention. A couple of Bald Headed Eagles soar above, the little Martins still catch bugs, the dragonflies skim over the water, and the resident seal tours around lazily. Thick hedges of pink sweet peas grace the north bank of the inlet.
I am just going to hang out, especially over Canada Day (1. July) and Independence Day (4. July) as boaters will be out in droves looking for anchoring spots for the partying. I may even talk myself into waxing the deck and cockpit, to give them their obligatory summer sheen, but it is alway too pleasant to think of chores, when one can wander or row about....
Out of sight, at the entrance to the cove near Brentwood Bay, things are supposedly set in motion to clean out at least SOME of the abandoned wrecks, that have inexplicably accumulated there in ugly clusters. There are halfsunken barges tied to off beach docks, which sprout forests of weeds and bushes. One carries a large crane, totally rusted.
Amongst the bushes on the floating gardens rest quite a few dissolving run-abouts looking like some kind of punky garden sculptures. There are a couple of swamped sailboats, without portholes, hatches or masts, but with sea life growing abundantly from the ever sinking waterline downwards. There are a couple of abandoned seiners littering the beach. Some of these vessels leak diesel oil, some battery acid, some just fall apart bit by bit over time, and the flotsam slowly winds it's way out into Saanich Inlet, where it will float in circles sometimes for longer than a year.
I met a whole grass-covered tie-up finger, more than 30 feet long, in the middle of big body of almost motionless deep water....a comfortable movable resting place for scores of gulls, and the odd seal.
The clean up of this eye-sore in Brentwood Bay may never be completed, Coast Guard, Police, and Department of Transport and BC Provincial Park Authorities all claim not to be responsible. Maybe we can ask the Navy to use it for target practice.
Weather is georgeous again, not a cloud in the sky.
Photos later, when I can get access to WiFi somewhere....
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
28th June 2009 - Meanwhile on the West Coast
February 2009 - Near Tofino, West Coast of Vancouver Island,
Canadian Coast Guard.
And I thought I have trouble.....
Saturday, June 27, 2009
27. June 2009, Arbutus Ridge
I am on my fifth day here on the large and spacious dock at Arbutus Ridge, cleaning, re-stocking, fixing things, staying on for a crab and shrimp party on dock...boat-stuff. All is supposed to be peaceful, safe, convenient, pleasant..blabla.
Except the weather thought otherwise....
This morning, under a brilliant blue sky, the wind strenghtened in no time and blew about 25 knots from the south-east accompanied by the inevitable steep and choppy waves making their way underneath the almost useless floating breakwater (old giant commercial propane storage tanks) forming a semicircle around the south east of the dock.
Millie hung from two decent cleats and one length of rather spongy wooden dock rail, tied with everything that remotely resembled a docking line, doubled up and all.
Of course the most critical line was the one attached to the rotten wood. The rail certainly looked as if it was ready to part from the dock at each passing wave, when Millie just jerked full blast against her restraint. She hobby-horsed like a 15,000 pound bucking bronco.
I sat at a picnic table on the dock awaiting disaster.
It didn't happen.
I did not spend much time on the boat, though. Getting on and off was an acrobatic feat in itself and, below-decks, it felt like being inside an ill balanced washing machine....and the noise!!!
As the clouds moved in early afternoon the wind shifted, right on schedule, as per prediction of the official weather forecast, but not quite to the expected direction )too many mountains fooling around with windflow) It changed from the anxiety inducing south eastern quarter to a fright inducing north western quarter within a few moments.
Now it blew 25 knots from the new direction, leaving Millie on the even more exposed windward side of the dock. The wave action was not even broken by a smidgen of break-water - it was becoming a 'beating-up-the-dock-and-fender' situation.
Back to eternal vigilance. I put out every available fender (seven) between the undulating dock and the yawing, tossing, jumping boat.... as now the whole business hit her broadside. This was no longer Bucking Bronco time, this was Brahma Bull Cross Kicking time. A good sized fishing skiff moored behind Millie was almost tossed out of the water onto the dock, but instead just crashed against the side of the dock, ripping off the skiff's metal rubbing boards from the fibreblas underneath with a bit of a painful crunch.
Someone went to find a few extra fenders to protect this little vessel from even more severe damage, as the owner could not be found....
The boats at the other, lee-side of the huge dock were straining against their lines away from it. One skipper of a 35,000 pound sailboat was afraid the whole dock would turn turtle from the pull on it. We all helped tying a few auxiliary dock lines spanning the width of the entire dock to distribute the strain somewhat.
I could not even glance at Millie doing her St. Vitus dance....I just hoped that the fenders would not explode under the beating...in that case I would be in real trouble.
No chance motoring away from the dock under these conditions. Not much option to go anywhere else anyway, except go out into the larger Bay into open water and bash it out during the night (not my idea of fun, especially doing it single handed)
So here are a couple of 'movies', captured by my digital camera....my first high tech media adventure -ha ha.
Except the weather thought otherwise....
This morning, under a brilliant blue sky, the wind strenghtened in no time and blew about 25 knots from the south-east accompanied by the inevitable steep and choppy waves making their way underneath the almost useless floating breakwater (old giant commercial propane storage tanks) forming a semicircle around the south east of the dock.
Millie hung from two decent cleats and one length of rather spongy wooden dock rail, tied with everything that remotely resembled a docking line, doubled up and all.
Of course the most critical line was the one attached to the rotten wood. The rail certainly looked as if it was ready to part from the dock at each passing wave, when Millie just jerked full blast against her restraint. She hobby-horsed like a 15,000 pound bucking bronco.
I sat at a picnic table on the dock awaiting disaster.
It didn't happen.
I did not spend much time on the boat, though. Getting on and off was an acrobatic feat in itself and, below-decks, it felt like being inside an ill balanced washing machine....and the noise!!!
As the clouds moved in early afternoon the wind shifted, right on schedule, as per prediction of the official weather forecast, but not quite to the expected direction )too many mountains fooling around with windflow) It changed from the anxiety inducing south eastern quarter to a fright inducing north western quarter within a few moments.
Now it blew 25 knots from the new direction, leaving Millie on the even more exposed windward side of the dock. The wave action was not even broken by a smidgen of break-water - it was becoming a 'beating-up-the-dock-and-fender' situation.
Back to eternal vigilance. I put out every available fender (seven) between the undulating dock and the yawing, tossing, jumping boat.... as now the whole business hit her broadside. This was no longer Bucking Bronco time, this was Brahma Bull Cross Kicking time. A good sized fishing skiff moored behind Millie was almost tossed out of the water onto the dock, but instead just crashed against the side of the dock, ripping off the skiff's metal rubbing boards from the fibreblas underneath with a bit of a painful crunch.
Someone went to find a few extra fenders to protect this little vessel from even more severe damage, as the owner could not be found....
The boats at the other, lee-side of the huge dock were straining against their lines away from it. One skipper of a 35,000 pound sailboat was afraid the whole dock would turn turtle from the pull on it. We all helped tying a few auxiliary dock lines spanning the width of the entire dock to distribute the strain somewhat.
I could not even glance at Millie doing her St. Vitus dance....I just hoped that the fenders would not explode under the beating...in that case I would be in real trouble.
No chance motoring away from the dock under these conditions. Not much option to go anywhere else anyway, except go out into the larger Bay into open water and bash it out during the night (not my idea of fun, especially doing it single handed)
So here are a couple of 'movies', captured by my digital camera....my first high tech media adventure -ha ha.
Above is a clip of Millie's bow rising and falling to the waves....it was still wonderfully sunny then. The wind is coming directly from the right hand side....
Above is Millie after the clouds moved in and the wind changed, now coming from the left side of the photo. There are seven fenders at her starboard side. The breakwaters can be seen ahead of Millie
I took the sides of the aft enclosure down to reduce wind resistance.
Here she is bouncing some more. See the big metal cleat aft - pretty sound. But the wood rail ahead is ready for the junk heap.
Nine p.m.: The water is dead flat, the heavy rain is over, the wind has died, the fog has moved in, a rainbow managed to decorate the sky for a few minutes. It seems, as none of this has ever happened.....everybit of line hangs limp, all fenders are fat and round, I put the boat raincoat back on again, wiped up the rainwater in the cockpit, and left Millie to her own fate and walked back home.
Might even get a night's sleep, instead of trudging down to the dock to check up on things every half hour or so.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
23. June 09 - from Winter Cove via Montague to Arbutus Ridge
Aromatic bushes near Winter Cove
Canada Geese enjoying low tide in Winter Cove
Inviting spot at the shore of Winter Cove
Saltwater Marsh at the shore of Winter Cove on Saturna Island
Sharing the Road again.... a Ferry coming out of Active Pass on her way to Schwartz Bay on Vancouver Island
Anchored in Winter Cove, with a view towards Boat Passage and the Strait of Georgia beyond
Boat Passage between Winter Cove and the Strait of Georgia
Only for the brave at heart, rocks stick out frome either side into this narrow cut, and a thick kelp bed blocks most of the exit to the right.
Here the current is almost slack, however, when the current runs strongly, the passage looks like a challenge for white water rafting fans.
The wreck of the Robertson, which ran aground on Minx Reef at the entrance to Winter Cove during the Canada Day weekend in 2007
Northern beach in Montague Marine Park
Northern beach in Montague Marine Park
Blueberries in the making
View towards Trincomali Channel from Montague Marine Park
View towards Trincomali Channel from Montague Marine Park
A tiny tidal pool in a tree burl, exposed at low tide
Beach Wedding in Montague Marine Park
Summer Solstice and lowest tides of the year
Empty oyster shell with little snails in a tital pool
Purple starfish hanging on for dear life during low ebb
Purple starfish having a dry party
Marina Park Dock at low tide
Notice the steep incline of the gang way on the right.
Millennium Dragon is out there, seen behind the barnacle covered branches of a normally submerged tree.
Montague Harbour - more exposed shore line than I have ever seen
23. June - Motoring home - note the freshly polished dorade vents...
At the Home Dock
My "Welcome to my Garden"
Friday, June 19, 2009
19. June 2009 - Back in Montague
I left Winter Cove this morning, after listening for another night to the growling, crunching, scratching of my anchor chain on what I imagined to be craggy underwater reefs, snagging my anchor, and making it impossible for me to hoist. The usual midnight worries...
Last night every skipper in the anchorage was on high alert, when an ancient mariner with his equally ancient wooden vessel (a potential beauty) sailed into the anchorage. Familiar sight from earlier years, when his arrival in other places resulted in some anxious moments as well, requiring untangling of boats and anchors, and observing rudderless drifting through crowded places, repeated failed attempts to re-anchor etc etc.
Here the grizzled skipper was again, loudly talking to himself, circling around, finally dropping the anchor, some swearing, some playing with strings (or whatever that tangle of stuff was posing as ground tackle) and then the expected drifting around whilst tying, untying, whatever-ing the anchor 'strings'. Somebody rowed over and offered help - but was cleary and loudly repelled.
By that time, everybody was out in their cockpits with binoculars, prepared for the potential 'collision at anchor'.
Half an hour later, with the skipper all the time muttering to himself and crouched over the bow busying himself with mysterious activities, the boat came to a stop - somehow.
I hoped the wind would stay steady. That way, should he drag overnight, he would drift safely past me.
My weighing anchor at low ebb this morning, and in only 14 feet of depth turned out to be quite easy, apart from having to remove loads of heavy kelp from anchor and chain. No mud tracked on deck, though - a clean break.
Off I cruised past the exposed wreck of the Robertson again into Plumper Sound, where a fresh breeze chopped up the water.
I rolled out my jib, hoping for a fast passage to Montague (the current should be with me, the wind CERTAINLY was). The sail was drawing nicely, Millennium was finally in her element.
Then I suddenly espied daylight where it should not be - two panels of the jib had parted company at the leach end. Not a good thing. Disappointed I rolled the sail up again, not wishing to have it ripped to shreds. Back to motoring, too rough - for me - to hoist the mainsail.
I bounced and rolled north via Plumper Sound and Navy Channel, through what seemed to be for the most part sea-weed stew. Trying to steer through the thick green patches of vegetation kept me from thinking about the sick sail too much. And the current did NOT cooperate (wind influence?) Then a rolly crossing through the ferry routes (got bounced a little more by their wakes) and into quiet Montague, where I grabbed a mooring before a whole flotilla of boats on a re-union cruise occupied every other one of them.
So, I'll stay here for the weekend, maybe motor to another anchorage next, then stop at my home dock - and pick up one of the spare jibs from the garage. Dumb of me, should have carried an extra anyway.
Life continues to be good...
Last night every skipper in the anchorage was on high alert, when an ancient mariner with his equally ancient wooden vessel (a potential beauty) sailed into the anchorage. Familiar sight from earlier years, when his arrival in other places resulted in some anxious moments as well, requiring untangling of boats and anchors, and observing rudderless drifting through crowded places, repeated failed attempts to re-anchor etc etc.
Here the grizzled skipper was again, loudly talking to himself, circling around, finally dropping the anchor, some swearing, some playing with strings (or whatever that tangle of stuff was posing as ground tackle) and then the expected drifting around whilst tying, untying, whatever-ing the anchor 'strings'. Somebody rowed over and offered help - but was cleary and loudly repelled.
By that time, everybody was out in their cockpits with binoculars, prepared for the potential 'collision at anchor'.
Half an hour later, with the skipper all the time muttering to himself and crouched over the bow busying himself with mysterious activities, the boat came to a stop - somehow.
I hoped the wind would stay steady. That way, should he drag overnight, he would drift safely past me.
My weighing anchor at low ebb this morning, and in only 14 feet of depth turned out to be quite easy, apart from having to remove loads of heavy kelp from anchor and chain. No mud tracked on deck, though - a clean break.
Off I cruised past the exposed wreck of the Robertson again into Plumper Sound, where a fresh breeze chopped up the water.
I rolled out my jib, hoping for a fast passage to Montague (the current should be with me, the wind CERTAINLY was). The sail was drawing nicely, Millennium was finally in her element.
Then I suddenly espied daylight where it should not be - two panels of the jib had parted company at the leach end. Not a good thing. Disappointed I rolled the sail up again, not wishing to have it ripped to shreds. Back to motoring, too rough - for me - to hoist the mainsail.
I bounced and rolled north via Plumper Sound and Navy Channel, through what seemed to be for the most part sea-weed stew. Trying to steer through the thick green patches of vegetation kept me from thinking about the sick sail too much. And the current did NOT cooperate (wind influence?) Then a rolly crossing through the ferry routes (got bounced a little more by their wakes) and into quiet Montague, where I grabbed a mooring before a whole flotilla of boats on a re-union cruise occupied every other one of them.
So, I'll stay here for the weekend, maybe motor to another anchorage next, then stop at my home dock - and pick up one of the spare jibs from the garage. Dumb of me, should have carried an extra anyway.
Life continues to be good...
Thursday, June 18, 2009
18.June 09 - Winter Cove, Saturna Island
After a quick crossing of Navy Channel, I dropped anchor in Winter Cove at the very north end of Saturna Island. Upon entering I noticed the decaying remains of the wooden hull of the 100 foot + 'Robertson', a well loved and well known sailing Schooner, which cruised the waters here for many a year. During the 2007 Canada Day Long Weekend, she ran aground on Minx Reef, which guards the entrance of Winter Cove, and is invisible during high tides.
I was anchored in this same cove a couple of days after the grounding and witnessed the rescue attempts. With the help of divers, tugs, and a number of recovery crews, under the watchful eye of coast guard vessels, people tried to pull her off the reef. For days, and many tide changes, leaving her full of water or high and dry in turn, they had no success, she definitely was stuck, driven into the reef hard (how, was never quiet clear). She subsequently was cleaned out by beach-combers, looking for souvenirs, her huge masts were removed for safety reasons (they and the rigging were semi submerged and presented a serious hazard), the seals moved in - and she slowly was battered to bits.
Now, only a part of the wood planks of her skeleton bow rests on the rocks, all blackened and rotted, everything else must have been torn away by two years of waves and winds. The seals still populate the reef.
There is a small Cut, called Boat Passage, at the east end of the Cove, between the tip of Saturna Island and Samuel Island. (Samuel is so private, that apart from a vigilant 'bouncer' who keeps visitors off the Island, numerous 'Keep Out', 'Private' and 'Danger - Rattlesnakes' signs decorate the tranquil shore...one gets the message..)
The cut is very narrow, maybe 40 feet or so, rocky and fringed by kelp beds, and at maximum floe the current reaches 7 knots. One can pass at slack, local knowledge recommended. I can see, why...Strong powerboats zip through any time, an entertaining spectacle...
Beyond the Cut is the broad expanse of the Strait of Georgia, with Vancouver skyline, the Coastal Ranges and Point Roberts faintly discernible in the distance.
I am staying here two nights, then - who knows?
I just hope my anchoris not caught on the bottom reefs, sticking into the shallow anchorage from the shore. A trawler, trying to weigh anchor next to me, had to go through a noisy and crunchy length to get his anchor unstuck. It seemed jammed somehow, and only 'unscrewing' it with driving circles around it at full throttle make it turn loose.
My groundtackle makes disconcerting noises, whenever the boat turns to the wind or current - at best just the chain realigning itself on top of the seafloor, here is hoping.
I was anchored in this same cove a couple of days after the grounding and witnessed the rescue attempts. With the help of divers, tugs, and a number of recovery crews, under the watchful eye of coast guard vessels, people tried to pull her off the reef. For days, and many tide changes, leaving her full of water or high and dry in turn, they had no success, she definitely was stuck, driven into the reef hard (how, was never quiet clear). She subsequently was cleaned out by beach-combers, looking for souvenirs, her huge masts were removed for safety reasons (they and the rigging were semi submerged and presented a serious hazard), the seals moved in - and she slowly was battered to bits.
Now, only a part of the wood planks of her skeleton bow rests on the rocks, all blackened and rotted, everything else must have been torn away by two years of waves and winds. The seals still populate the reef.
There is a small Cut, called Boat Passage, at the east end of the Cove, between the tip of Saturna Island and Samuel Island. (Samuel is so private, that apart from a vigilant 'bouncer' who keeps visitors off the Island, numerous 'Keep Out', 'Private' and 'Danger - Rattlesnakes' signs decorate the tranquil shore...one gets the message..)
The cut is very narrow, maybe 40 feet or so, rocky and fringed by kelp beds, and at maximum floe the current reaches 7 knots. One can pass at slack, local knowledge recommended. I can see, why...Strong powerboats zip through any time, an entertaining spectacle...
Beyond the Cut is the broad expanse of the Strait of Georgia, with Vancouver skyline, the Coastal Ranges and Point Roberts faintly discernible in the distance.
I am staying here two nights, then - who knows?
I just hope my anchoris not caught on the bottom reefs, sticking into the shallow anchorage from the shore. A trawler, trying to weigh anchor next to me, had to go through a noisy and crunchy length to get his anchor unstuck. It seemed jammed somehow, and only 'unscrewing' it with driving circles around it at full throttle make it turn loose.
My groundtackle makes disconcerting noises, whenever the boat turns to the wind or current - at best just the chain realigning itself on top of the seafloor, here is hoping.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
16. June 2009, Port Browning, Day Two
Pender Islands Connectivity
To the left of the bridge - North Pender Island
To the right of the bridge - South Pender Island
The passage used to be a 'portage' for First Nation canoes and later for settlers hailing from other lands, until this bridge was built a few decades ago.
Bridge clearance, maybe 29 feet at low tide. I would have to chop 15 feet of the mast of my boat to fit underneath.
I enjoyed a pleasant walk from the Marina to the bridge today, and took advantage of the
unique public transport system for the return trip.
I waited at one of the 'car-stops', the official hitch hike pick up spots. This one was conveniently located between the local Health Centre (Canadian for Infirmary and Ambulance Service) and a school. Two cars passed, the third stopped. A local gentleman on his way to the brand new island Recycling Centre...dropping off old cans of paint. ..drove me to the 'Driftwood Centre', the hub of shopping activity for both Islands.
The view from the Marina, towards Saturna Island in the background.
The Marina is undergoing much needed upgrades, after it slipped into a bit of decay...Pub and Cafe are 'done', marina office, showers, washrooms, as well as updated electrical system on the docks are still work in progress.
That means - constructions moorage rates are in effect - fine with me.
On the deck of the Port Browning Marina Pub...definitely a room with a view!
I met a couple of the Island's residents:
One, a mother of three, who's children wrote poetry and essays whilst still at school. I read two impressive samples - and wish, that all children would benefit from home and school teachings to end up with not only such an extensive, but also such well used vocabulary as these youngsters.
The woman just bought herself a 24+ or so Eriksen sailboat, which already shows the results of some tender loving care in terms of well done bright work and paint. She is a strong spirit, having overcome a traumatic and injurious assault in one of Vancouver's Parks (the assailant sat out 7 moths out of his 4 year prison term, and immediately returned to his stalking habits..., go figure) she now enjoys the safe and close community here on Pender Island...a NEW LIFE indeed.
The man who sold her the sailboat, is not only a long-time and avid sailor and racer, but a tree-topper and sculptor in wood and metal. His last work, the skeleton of a raptor created from old pieces of metal (even forks and spoons and crampons) sold for an impressive sum. Deservedly so - the photos of the piece showed a raptor in full run, turning, balanced on one foot, all the bits and pieces of his anatomy rendered lifelike and full of energy - I loved it.
Unfortunately the buyer did not enjoy his prized possession too long - his house burnt down, with the raptor in it - Jurassic Park Pender Island version.
Monday, June 15, 2009
15 June 2009, Port Browning, South Pender Island
Calm trip from Bedwell Harbour around the South End of
Pender Island, on the way to Port Browning
Sharing the road with US Homeland Security
Large machine gun mounted on Bow - very military looking Coast Guard
Tied up at empty A Dock at Port Browning Marina
Port Browning Marina Garden Ornaments
Public Transport on Pender Island...
official hitch-hiking with designated pick up spots
Summer Poppies at Port Browning Marina
Hamilton Beach adjacent to Port Browning Marina
Oaktree guarding Hamilton Beach
Sunday, June 14, 2009
14. June 09 - Bedwell Harbour, South Pender Island
Last Thursday, I motored the grand distance of 11 nautical miles from Fulford Harbour to Bedwell in a couple of windless, sunny and calm hours. I crossed the ferry routes between Schwartz Bay and everything else around here, without getting into the way of any of them. One of the newest and largest of the fleet, the Coastal Renaissance, crossed my bow a couple of hundred yards ahead, and the expected monster wake did not materialize...kudos to modern propulsion technology.
I passed Poet's Cove, the luxury resort, spa and marina and a couple of hundred yards further, picked up a Marine Park Mooring Buoy in Bedwell Harbour on lovely, bucolic South Pender Island.
There are 15 buoys, all of them were occupied by evening - the luxury marina was empty. Economic woes - or pre-season syndrome? Well, $10per night per buoy is more attractive than 1.50 for each foot of boat for the budget minded.
This harbour is a Canadian Border crossing point. The officials, in their grey military looking Zodiac, leave their litle dockside office ever so often, and meander amongst the buoys, to check that no boat here snuck past our own Homeland Security.
I am going to stay here until Monday morning.
Put my little egg-beater 2 horsepower engine onto the dinghy stern, and whizz to the resort (laundry, fuel, wifi, shower, hot-tub, pool, open air restaurant) and to the park (hiking).
My first encounters here were with the local fauna: an otter crunching oysters, a stellar sea lion poking his leonine head out of the sea, a mink scampering amongst the rocks ashore, a deer and her newborn fawn, (sporting spots and innocent baby look) on the grassy spot halfway down the steep cliff behind the anchorage.
Ashore at the truly impressive resort - encounters of the wedding preparation kind. Rehearsal time for a sea-side ceremony. All flurry, food, wine, dressed to the min, texting, phoning, spitting into the flower beds, teasing, being 'cool'...tomorrow: show time and wedding etiquette and wedding clothes.
One can see the San Juan Islands across the water from the anchorage. Just half way across the aptly named Boundary Pass there is a red line on the water, demarcating the beginning of the USA...
Last night - hardly any wind - the boat was hobby-horsing without let up. Swells entering the Bay caused by a Gale somewhere south of here, Haro Strait or Juan de Fuca Strait maybe. I have double lines around the mooring ring, however the constant bouncing, backed by constant groaning and squeaking gives me visions of lines chaving through and Millie being set free to drift onto shore. So one gets up every hour or so checking things.
Weather still sunny and cloudless, but a little chillier today, and a bit of wind ruffling the waters of the anchorage.
I passed Poet's Cove, the luxury resort, spa and marina and a couple of hundred yards further, picked up a Marine Park Mooring Buoy in Bedwell Harbour on lovely, bucolic South Pender Island.
There are 15 buoys, all of them were occupied by evening - the luxury marina was empty. Economic woes - or pre-season syndrome? Well, $10per night per buoy is more attractive than 1.50 for each foot of boat for the budget minded.
This harbour is a Canadian Border crossing point. The officials, in their grey military looking Zodiac, leave their litle dockside office ever so often, and meander amongst the buoys, to check that no boat here snuck past our own Homeland Security.
I am going to stay here until Monday morning.
Put my little egg-beater 2 horsepower engine onto the dinghy stern, and whizz to the resort (laundry, fuel, wifi, shower, hot-tub, pool, open air restaurant) and to the park (hiking).
My first encounters here were with the local fauna: an otter crunching oysters, a stellar sea lion poking his leonine head out of the sea, a mink scampering amongst the rocks ashore, a deer and her newborn fawn, (sporting spots and innocent baby look) on the grassy spot halfway down the steep cliff behind the anchorage.
Ashore at the truly impressive resort - encounters of the wedding preparation kind. Rehearsal time for a sea-side ceremony. All flurry, food, wine, dressed to the min, texting, phoning, spitting into the flower beds, teasing, being 'cool'...tomorrow: show time and wedding etiquette and wedding clothes.
One can see the San Juan Islands across the water from the anchorage. Just half way across the aptly named Boundary Pass there is a red line on the water, demarcating the beginning of the USA...
Last night - hardly any wind - the boat was hobby-horsing without let up. Swells entering the Bay caused by a Gale somewhere south of here, Haro Strait or Juan de Fuca Strait maybe. I have double lines around the mooring ring, however the constant bouncing, backed by constant groaning and squeaking gives me visions of lines chaving through and Millie being set free to drift onto shore. So one gets up every hour or so checking things.
Weather still sunny and cloudless, but a little chillier today, and a bit of wind ruffling the waters of the anchorage.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
9. June 2009 - Fulford Harbour, Saltspring Island
Fulford Harbour Landmark
Fuzzy smelly piling bottoms
Bit close to the dock - right
A few more people arrived all watching with bated breath, what the bargemen were doing. One of them assured me 'We are professionals' when his tuggy boat was pressed against the marina wharf and the behemoth came within barge pole distance.
The Windmill House next to the marina
Fulford Harbour Marina, Saltspring Island
I am tied to A dock at the Fulford Harbour Marina, where Maple Bay Yacht Club (my home club) maintains an outstation, meaning, one can tie up gratis. First time in almost three weeks that am connected to REAL electricity.
A penetrating stench greeted me, when I came alongside, where the Harbour Master waited to take my lines. Well, I thought, there must be a plague of otters taking up residence under the dock. Not so, informed me the Harbour Master.
Fuzzy smelly piling bottoms
'The old wooden pilings of the BC Ferry Terminal next door are being removed to be replaced with new metal ones', he said, ' and the thousands of barnacles, mussels, oysters, sea anemones, kelp, starfish are coming up with the pilings to die and slowly decay. It has been hot for a while, and they have been stacking those pilings of a thousand deaths sky high on the barge, it has been smelly since weeks.'
Well, one has to pinch ones nostrils...maybe it's part of an economic stimulus package.
No sooner had I made my arrangements at the marina, when that monstrosity of a odiforous mountain was starting to move, propelled by these lawnmower sized tuggy boats.
Bit close to the dock - right
Great, I get here, and the stink is clearing out!
However, with currents winds and a rather hard to manoeuvre pile of junk near the docks, I was getting a little concerned. This thing was heading right for me. I had visions of Millennium being crushed by a derelict Ferry Wharf. Things were getting pretty tight, even the Harbour Master got a little nervous. 'I just put that new dock in a week ago', he said.
Barge Attack
A few more people arrived all watching with bated breath, what the bargemen were doing. One of them assured me 'We are professionals' when his tuggy boat was pressed against the marina wharf and the behemoth came within barge pole distance.
After a while, the floating golf carts with the help of a real tug, nudged the whole business out into the bay, by which time it was already a tandem barge - two of the monsters tied together.
Ha, a breath of fresh air! I hiked around Fulford Harbour, a small seaside village with tarot shops, a little transcendental meditation cafe, the ferry wharf, a B&B, a hat and bead shop, a tie die shop and kayak rental, a restaurant, a small catholic chapel, and a pub and restaurant. Pretty laid back.
The Windmill House next to the marina
View down Fulford Harbour
Low Tide at the Head of the Bay
Stone Men on the Shore
Monday, June 8, 2009
8. June 2009 - Tod Inlet mini vacation
The first rose blooms in Butchard Gardens
And - the wild variety grows everwhere
Heart of Darkness, poppy style
Future dessert in process - wild berries
Anchored in Tod Inlet
My 'Living Room"
My 'Kitchen" - galley
My 'Guest Room' - i.e. 'storage'
Still here in the beautiful Tod Inlet, meeting neighbours from back home and walking in Butchard Gardens, catching the community bus to Sidney to replenish fresh greeneries et al, reading and rowing and totally enjoying the whole experience.
Weather is supposed to stay warm and calm....time for a change of scenery tomorrow.
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