Leaving, trying to leave, but not really leaving (yet); old and new friends; and boat work

Leaving is hard.  Let me explain. We left our house in the care of fine people at the start of July  Then we left the slip (for you land people, that’s a term for “boat parking place” in a marina). Only to then go to the government dock just outside the marina (covered in a post above about, well, leaving). Then we went to a dock in downtown Vancouver (to see Lou and buy some boat stuff - the start of a trend as you’ll soon see, and the trend of seeing and saying goodbye for now to people.) At the dock in Vancouver we ran into Dave Jones of Bowen on his sailboat, and he came by for drinks, and then we had dinner aboard with Lou. (If we missed you in a pic or in this blog post text, please forgive us - it’s been very, very busy!)

After that, a bit frazzled from all the leaving and money-spending (which never ceases to surprise me), we crossed Georgia Strait and anchored at an island near Gabriola Pass. Had a drink.  Took a short rest. Then the work continued - in earnest this time, without social visits.  Jud installed a mahogany board on the lifelines to store/secure a gasoline jerry can, with fuel for our outboard motor for the dinghy, which we use to get to shore when anchored out. Leah sewed a weatherproof cover for our expensive life raft and we also figured out where/how to secure it on deck.  We made this, checked that, re-checked something else, spliced this and that, stowed food, tried to finalize our solar panel set up, and so on. We spent days and days, eight hours a day, doing projects from the elaborate (custom sewing/wiring/woodwork/mechanical stuff), to the more regular but no less important - packing literally a hundred or more items away - and cataloguing precisely where they are in the boat (scattered around probably 50 or more possible locations. The organization was greatly aided by a very useful boat inventorying app that Leah found). Just in case we hadn’t done enough, we also rigged up a block and tackle and perfected the “crane” for hoisting up our dinghy outboard motor onboard. And wired in all the components to power a Starlink dish. And on and on it went day after day, as we moved anchorage every few days, heading south and then west out Juan de Fuca Strait (between Washington state and British Columbia), destination Barkley Sound on the west coast of Vancouver Island for a planned meet up with two other Bluewater Cruising Association boats for a trial offshore run of 24-36 hours overnight and back (covered in a post above, where much stress testing and learning happened, to put it mildly). On the way there, we met the two other participating boats - new friends - Ed and Marlowe on SV Seadra, and Cindy and Alan on SV Euphoria. (Ed, by far the most experienced offshore sailor, was the coach/leader for this offshore training endeavour.) Being part of a posse travelling together and with an offshore shakedown run as a goal, we bonded as friends.  And, of course, work continued aboard, day after day, as we made our way toward the cold ocean waters of Barkley Sound.

While on the offshore trial run, all day and overnight, no work was done aboard - we were simply too busy trying to run the ship, in big ocean swells and waves, out of sight of land —a rather unfamiliar and challenging place already—navigating, tamping down seasickness, realizing we should have reduced sail before nightfall to avoid middle of the night drama or hardships, etc. etc.   Being offshore, entirely out of sight of land, and all night, is its own brand of work, and with its own rewards.

Upon returning to land, slightly chastened by the experience (again, see a post above), we anchored in Ucluelet on the west coast, enjoying a few of the town’s sites (a lovely little brewery restaurant, and the much-appreciated laundromat at the dock!) There ensued 4-5 enforced days at anchor as low pressure

systems from offshore (which had made our offshore trial run a bit more challenging) continued to march in, bringing strong winds and some rain.  So, we hunkered down aboard at anchor and, well, worked. Continuing boat projects, the details of which escape me now.  In one way, it’s like a job (a job for pay, where you’re working from home - your job is about 10 feet from where you were just sleeping!), and lasts anywhere from 8-10 hours (occasionally more)!  But, for this job, you pay to do it! Ha!

Eventually, the low pressure systems passed and we were able to up anchor and move on back south toward Victoria, anchoring daily and, yes, working on the boat as we went.  While practicing a bit more sailing stuff on route (using our windvane self-steering to steer the boat with minimal human input, which is required for long distance, multi-day offshore sailing or crossing oceans), while two other goals were on our horizon - first, returning to the boatyard for more (scheduled) boat work (most importantly, riggers need to repair the system that manages our headsail - the sail at the front of the boat).  And, second, an annual summer get-together of sailors of the Bluewater Cruising Association (BCA), combined with a send-off party for what’s known as “leavers” (as distinct from what are known in BCA as “dreamers” - those who dream of sailing off to the horizon, blithely ignorant of how much work it all takes; “doers”, people currently out sailing the world; and “doners”, veteran offshore sailors, some of whom act as mentors for “dreamers” - but they never seemed to tell us how much work and money it would take…hmmm…).  More specifically, “leavers” are boats headed south, to California and Mexico for now. Leah and I looked at each other, eyes wide- “holy smokes - that’s US now!”  When in the thick of a daily, seemingly unending grind of boat projects associated with leaving on a big voyage, and anchoring, travelling, doing the offshore shakedown cruise - very busy days, day after day after day - you can almost forget that, yes, you are actually leaving, for far away. It’s takes a lot - way more than we thought- effort to leave! 

Once in Victoria, old and new friends was the theme - and more boat work! (See above, if you haven’t caught on yet.) It was a pleasure to see our old Bowen neighbours Jacquie and Beth, and be hosted by them in their lovely home. We wanted, but refrained from asking to use their laundry! (Cruisers all crave easy access to laundry and showers, none of which are ever frequent enough or close enough.) In our anchorage, we met two new friends - Douglas on his sailboat, named LARK, recently returned from Mexico and Hawaii; and a sailboat from far away, flying the New Zealand flag, FAJO, skippered by Jim and Tori.  We asked what their route had been, and they nonchalantly answered, “New Zealand to Guam, Guam to the Aleutians”.  Wow! Thanks to the wonders of modern communication, we can stay in touch with these fellow sailors via a fantastic app (created by and for global sailors) called “No Foreign Land”.  Check it out - it’s really quite an amazing community.  (And, importantly, that’s how you can track where we are: download the free app!)

And stay in touch, we did. Out of the blue (and after we’d left the anchorage near Victoria), I messaged the New Zealanders, obviously very experienced sailors (they’re headed to Patagonia, at the very bottom of South America), to ask them a technical question on their metal boat’s electrical system (we’re metal too), and a very informative dialog the. ensued.  When do you get a chance to engage with strangers you’ve just met, like that? Amazing. (And, as I write this, over a week after meeting them, while they’ve since checked into the US, I’ve just received a message asking how our rigging work is going.) Then, again out of the blue, we got a message from Douglas on LARK (whom we’d met in the anchorage by Victoria) inviting us to use his slip at the Saltspring Sailing Club, since he’d be away!  Gotta love the friendly world of ocean sailors. And the amazing app No Foreign Land.

Shortly before leaving the anchorage near Victoria, Jud traveled by dinghy, bus and foot to the marine store in town - many hundreds of more dollars to spend on rigging gear; offshore fishing gear (think: tuna and mahi-mahi!); lots of various specialty nuts and bolts; and a sailor’s favourite thing: rope.  Expensive, high tech rope amongst the haul of gear. All for - you guessed it - more boat projects!

Once on Saltspring, more friends - old and new - came our way. We were the lucky guests of Leah’s old friend Linda Mae and Craig at their big, new, mountain property there, where they plan to build a house; and we reciprocated by having them aboard our relatively tiny home (still abuzz with more - yes - boat projects, which are always a challenge to put away when guests are coming aboard! An enduring facet of boat life is putting things away, or risk being inundated with stuff everywhere in your confined living space. But, more about projects below!  You probably see a pattern here.) And then we made contact with folks, Doug and Sarah, previously from Vancouver, where we met them 17 or so years ago when they were also living aboard, like us, and went up to Alaska and back the same summer, like us.  Now living on Saltspring, they recently returned from three years around the entire Pacific, returning via Japan!  We sought their hard-won advice and enjoyed their company.  Of course, amongst all this, we’d be remiss not to mention our friend Karen on Bowen, very, very helpfully relaying details of our mail that’s arrived in our mailbox over the past months.  It seems there was a tax issue we hadn’t known about - an honest mistake from years ago - so her help with sorting out our mail has been an invaluable friend connection ashore. You simply cannot have too many friends.

And, by chance, our old friend Chris from Bowen was on Saltspring Island for work (paid work!) - and not only came for dinner aboard but served as mule, transporting several things we decided earlier we wanted from home: a sextant, a SUP, and a battery-powered tool. (It seems you can never have too many tools aboard. Projects…)

New friends on Saltspring - very seasoned world sailors Nick and Jenny on SV BOSUN BIRD.  Over the years, we’d read and been inspired by their journeys (see www.bosunbird.com: around the world twice, most lately, via South Africa, then through Patagonia, Micronesia, Australia, and up to Japan and back to Canada), and by books of their travels, including a fantastic one of their 50 favourite anchorages across the globe that are “off the beaten track” - a fantastic read called Under Wide and Starry Skies, quoting a line by the writer and poet Robert Louis Stevenson, who is buried in Samoa).  And walking down the dock at the Saltspring Island Sailing Club just after landing, what do I randomly spy, but BOSUN BIRD!  And the esteemed skippers are aboard, cleaning up after an eight week cruise up the coast. What are the chances of running into some of your “sailing heroes” like that?! We were then lucky guests at their home where they regaled us with stories of their extensive travels over the years (which includes, for Nick, a stint as a senior Canadian diplomat in Sudan, where he and Jenny had the opportunity to race steel dinghies out of the Blue Nile Sailing Club on the Nile River! Talk about interesting stories!).  Inspirational sailors, for sure. (Below, with stuffed animal souvenirs from sailing in Japan! Very Japanese things, hard to explain for those who haven’t been to Japan…and they fit well on a small sailboat at sea for weeks or months at a time! The “V for victory” hand gesture is also a very Japanese way to pose for a photo…origin unknown!)

At some point, old and new friends returned to their respective lives, and we had to get on with the business of leaving. Which means, ahem, boat work at anchor. I’m probably forgetting a bunch of things, but this included…changing the engine’s impeller (part of the seawater cooling system for the engine); change oil and oil filter; tensioning the alternator belt; checking the engine coolant level; buying jugs of oil and spare oil and fuel filters in Ganges, the main town of Saltspring Island; planning to gap the cylinder head exhaust and air inlet valves; finishng the Starlink wiring/dish set up; shortening/finalizing deck jack lines (part of a tether system to keep you attached to the boat and prevent you falling overboard at sea); finishing splicing the drogue (a device for use at sea in heavy weather); finalizing the set up for the staysail (a small sail used in heavier wind conditions) and on-deck procedures/rigging for it; cataloguing locations and inventory amount of parts and spares recently acquired and organizing/cataloging old boxes of parts we remember had tucked away in a back corner onboard; provisioning; updating the chart plotter chip; consulting with a friend —The Engineer, as he must only be known as (you know who!)— to get advice on future servicing of the engine heat exchanger; ordering spare engine o-rings for fresh and seawater coolant systems; planning work for the return to the boatyard at Canoe Cove; researching marinas and insurance for Mexico; buying another backpack for hauling provisions/stuff when ashore; and, finally, buying a replacement/spare Starlink cable.  

So here we are, still leaving - at the annual Bluewater Cruising Association get-together this weekend, with new friends made amongst “doners” - old hands at sailing, some having cruised Mexico for years, or already crossed to French Polynesia (and some even having sailed the Arctic).  The Association has as one of its goals fostering skills and camaraderie amongst would-be offshore sailors. We learned some “marlinspike” seamanship skills -  a veteran sailor taught us all how to splice a high tech rope to make “soft shackles”.  And there’s the commodore (who has solo sailed to New Zealand and back!) hamming it up a bit in his captain’s hat, as we’re presented with a “leaver’s” package - a bag of useful things offshore cruisers might need. And there’s the rest of the crew of the other southbound cruising boats - three couples, six of us in total.  

And now, before wandering out to the edge of the ocean preparing to head south, we return to the boatyard for what won’t be final pre-departure work, but final “big” pre-departure boat work. (Did I say final? Final - for now.) I have a feeling there’s always going to be boat projects - and old and new friends as we sail forth south to adventure!