By Lewis C. Rose, MD
Sunday morning. Blue skies. Light breeze. Chartering a 40-foot sailboat, hoping to explore some of the islands of San Juan and Gulf. This was one of my greatest dreams. It was coming true.
First step – the preliminaries: boat check. The Margaridaville [sic] was pristine, sleek and beautiful. A roller, furling on the job, promised easy sailing. Clustered at the wheel, the controls included a moderate-sized GPS screen.
Next – the briefing. After explaining the functions of the “heads,” (nautical term for bathrooms) the supervisor checked our skills. She watched and monitored as we took the boat out of the slip and berthed it again. I then charted our planned course while granddaughter Megan programmed it into the GPS. Everything looked good.
Our instructor left, wishing us “good sailing,” and we motored out of Sidney, British Columbia into the Haro Strait. On this day, the sea was flat and smooth. Our destination was Poet’s Cove on South Pender Island. Although I had sailed a bigger boat in Corpus Christi Bay, there had always been another experienced Captain in charge. Now, I was the Captain!
The crew was my daring family: my wife (Betty Jean), my son (David), my grandchildren (Megan and Colin) and yours truly. Two check points made good as we passed the long beach of Sidney Spit avoiding the shallow water just north of it, and then the tiny Gooch and Domville Islands to starboard. All was well.
Perhaps, we all agreed, it was good to have the first day entirely on the diesel!” It was much simpler than using sail power. Eating sandwiches for our lunch, we thrilled at the scenery: the high, steep shores of Moresby Island appeared to port, and the hills of Stuart Island were farther away to starboard. Stuart Island, one of the U.S. San Juan Islands, appeared a bit fuzzy. Looking back three miles, Domville Island had already vanished. Pender Island, only six miles ahead, should be visible soon, but all we could see was mist. To starboard, Stuart Island was already fading away into the mist. Within less than half an hour, only Moresby was visible. The mist had become scary.
Oh, dear! The channel we were following was part of the ferry route from Vancouver, BC to Swartz Bay on Vancouver Island. With radar and a timetable to keep, the big, fast ferries would plough right through the fog, and maybe, right through us. I thanked God for Moresby, still visible, and turned towards it.
“We will stay close to Moresby Island until the fog lifts,” I announced bravely. “At least we will know exactly where we are, and we will be out of the way of the ferries. If there is a good spot, we can anchor there.” By now, we were motoring along the west side of Moresby. But the cliffs continued steeply down past the waterline to a depth of 200 feet. No anchorage there. The visibility was less than half a mile and we were going farther from Poet’s Cove. I needed to turn around, going back to the south side of Moresby. The fog became thicker. We started up the east side, looking anxiously to starboard and hoping for a break.
What was that over there? Was it land? Yes, it was, and it was getting clearer all the time. The sun began to shine softly on the water. We could see the water again – all the way to Pender Island! We turned towards this welcomed sight and an hour later, we were tying up at our destination. Although this was only a small adventure and we were never in any real danger, my knuckles paled white from gripping that wheel. Whew!
The next day, we mostly used diesel because of little wind. The weather was clear. My son, David and grandson Colin were at the wheel. Megan took the last part of the crossing. We motored west and north to Ganges, on Salt Spring Island. Ganges is a small city, but still the largest on the Canadian Gulf Islands. We went shopping for each person’s favorite foods. Our excursion was getting better every minute!
On the third day, we sailed (yes, mostly sailed) a short distance to Montague Harbor, on Galiano Island. This is the location of Canada’s first marine park. No slips were available, but we picked up a mooring buoy. I lowered the outboard to Colin, to use the dinghy and go ashore. At that moment, someone flushed aft and Colin was splashed with some very unpleasant fluid. The aft holding tank was full and overflowing its stinky contents! We went ashore anyway.
My wife Betty Jean and I explored the roads through the forest of tall, Pacific trees. Colin and Megan rented kayaks and explored the bay. That evening after supper, we tried to fix that overflowing toilet. No one could find controls for the holding tank, or any references in the book of instructions. Given no choice except for all of us to use the forward head, we learned the meaning of long-suffering (patience). Sailing back to Sidney the next day, we hurriedly got help from the charter company. It turned out that the controls were in the engine compartment: close by, but out of sight.
Our last two days were at Friday and Roche Harbors on San Juan Island, Washington. Roche Harbor has an extraordinary park with 86 original sculptures displayed in a large field. With the blue skies, unlimited visibility and an excellent wind, we sailed with joy and confidence all the way back to Sidney Harbor. These final two days confirmed that bareboat charter sailing is an experience worth cherishing.
