Blue Sky and Grey Clouds

They say a photo is worth a thousand words, and this one sure tells the story of our voyage to date. We sail from one atmospheric condition to the other. Blue to Grey and Grey to Blue. Between the two extremes, we have encountered great sailing winds. Thus, all has not been lost.








On June 12th, we head to a popular and much photographed spot called Chatterbox Falls. By coincidence, I had just started reading a book sent to me by veteran sailor and Telluride friend, Lou Fanning. “The Curve of Time” by M. Wylie Blanchet is a memoir of the summers she, alone with her five young children and sometimes a dog, spent cruising the waters of the Pacific Northwest in the 1930’s and 40’s. Their water home was a 25’ motor vessel with a beam of 6 1/2’. (Avante in comparison is 52’ with a beam of 14 1/2’, and we two are quite comfortable. Thank you.) They explored this coast at a time when little was known of it and much has changed since. They caught fish easily (fewer fish now) and cooked them over fires on the beach (prohibited in many places now). They would favor a spot and spend 2 weeks there with no other visiting vessel to intrude (impossible now). They each had one set of clothes and a bathing suit. How? Bathing suit? Global Warming? Isn’t happening here! However, aside from all comparisons past to present or maybe because of them, this book has had me enthralled and caught me in its magic from the first page. (Thank you, Lou!)

The coincidence of my starting the book as we sailed toward Chatterbox Falls is that that is the first adventure described in the book. I am sailing it with her and seeing it thru her much wiser eyes. Chatterbox Falls is at the end of a 3-mile inlet called Princess Louisa Inlet. To get there, one must go down a long fiord whose name changes with each of three bends. I learn from her that Vancouver gave this area these names in honor of his sovereigns. Placing himself among the mighty, he gave his name to a large bay we sailed by and that she and her children stopped in for lunch while she, in a moment’s time, caught three trout in the near-by steam. Was Vancouver so sure that he had finally found the inland passage thru these mountains to the east that he gave this fiord such esteemed names: Prince of Wales Reach, Princess Royal Reach and Queens Reach? He did not explore Princess Louisa Inlet mistaking the narrow entrance with swift running rapids for a creek. He, therefore, did not name Princess Louisa Inlet nor did he give the improbable name of Malibu Rapids to the narrow entrance whose waters can race at 10 – 12 knots over barely submerged rocks.

Setting off at 8:30 in the morning, we have about 45 miles to go to catch the slack tide at 3:00 over Malibu Rapids.



Bill starts the day with a satellite connection to the outside world and a board meeting.










After the call, The First Mate treats The Captain to a Birthday Brunch.






The guidebooks talk about winds that in-flow and out-flow in these fiords creating great sailing, but we had experienced no such winds in any of the many fiords we had sailed up and down on our Alaskan trip last year. Expecting no such great sailing, to our amazement, the winds did pick up to 7, 8, 9 and even 12 knots.

We raised our sails and made excellent time sailing down wind to our destination. An interesting phenomenon occurred each time we rounded a bend. We set the autopilot to follow a course based on wind angle. The wind turned the corner up the fiord, and Avante under the autopilot’s control did the same. It was fascinating to observe the slow change in angle as we rounded each corner.


The massive, granite walls of the fiord rise straight up above us as they emerge from their watery depths to heights of 6,000’ and more. If we had wanted to, we could have sailed right up to the walls and touched them. Depths in these fiords are as astounding as the heights above.

The cloud cover is low, blanketing the peaks above us. It is easy to imagine walls and clouds pressing in on us. For the first time, I am able to understand and empathize with Vancouver’s antipathy toward these towering heights. My advantage over Vancouver is that, with my charts and quidebooks, I know what lies ahead around each corner. Vancouver did not, and from his uncertain perspective, these monoliths would be foreboding.

We sailed down the fiord to Malibu Rapids, dropped sail, and dropped the shrimp trap. Guess who dropped the trap? If one remembers, I had a very difficult time coiling the rope as I pulled it in the first time. My poor job led to a coiled-up mess. Bill did his own tangle-tango up there getting ropes, weights, trap and float back in the water. The Captain is far from pleased with this whole endeavor, and The First Mate knows for sure she better come up with a workable system of rope management ASAP. Do Captains have the option of mutiny? Of course not -- but The First Mate could be made to walk the plank. Better get thinking.

The tide is now slack, though we are running late because of the shrimp trap launch. We rush toward the barely discernable entrance to the pass. I wish I had been able to take pictures of this relatively short and potentially lethal little pass, but there was not a moment when full attention was not needed at the helm to hold the course. In our favor was the fact that the middle of the pass was well deep enough for Avante, and, of course, we are at slack tide so we will not be tossed about by the 12-knot currents created by the tide racing in or running out. Against us, however, was a narrow, “S”-shaped passage running thru a minefield of rocks and sand bars. The passage itself cannot be seen until you are directly in front of it giving you no time to contemplate what lies ahead. Only the charts tell you. Upon entering, you are confronted with a spit of rock-covered land that juts out into your path, but you cannot turn away from it. You are in a channel cutting thru rocks on both the starboard and port sides. Finally, the rocks to starboard bend to the right allowing you to gratefully turn away from the fast approaching spit -- only to be confronted by a massive wall of granite. Again there is a line of rocks on the starboard side and this impenetrable granite wall ahead. It looks clear to port, and that’s where you instinctively want to turn, but according to the charts in which you must have faith, there is a continuing line of rocks coming off that spit at varying depths below surface. Most boats could have made their turn then, heading away from the wall, but Avante’s deep keel prevents that. Anxiously you wait and hold course staying in the deepest part of the passage. At what feels like the last possible moment, the Navigator (also known as The Captain) commands a 30 degree left turn. You execute the turn, but in no way is it enough. The wall still looms ahead. Impatiently and with unflagging confidence coupled with a strong desire to bolt, you wait until the command is given to turn a further 50 degrees, and you and Avante have gotten thru Malibu Rapids. Princess Louisa Inlet is clear ahead looking more like a river with the enclosing rock walls.

Day is waning as we reach the end of the inlet which has opened into a large bowl. There are boats securely tied to a dock, but Avante is too big to fit and that is not The Captain’s way of doing things anyway. He has read that it is possible to anchor just below the falls in about 90’ of water. Though the wind coming up the inlet would normally blow us into land, the current from the water out-flowing from the falls is supposed to keep the boat facing into land and off the land. Will that really work? We drop anchor, but it takes a long time for an anchor to feed down 90’. The wind catches hold of Avante and turns her around. The anchor finally hits bottom. Bill puts out more chain, and we sit on Avante waiting for this current to take effect. Slowly, ever so slowly, Avante turns back to the falls and pulls out on the chain. We set the anchor, and we are secure with the sound of the waterfalls raging in our ears. (For The First Mate, this is another one of those matters of faith things, but it works. In the morning, we are right where we anchored with a light wind at our backs and the current holding us off land.)








Steep granite walls rising into the clouds loom above us anchored as we are so close to land.















Our plans were to hike up to an old trapper’s cabin the next morning, but it rained so hard the night before that a hike in the mud no longer riveted our imagination. Instead in the surreal morning light, we pull anchor and head back up Princess Louisa Inlet to catch the morning slack tide in Malibu Rapids.






We look back at the falls and its heights lost in the morning mist.

The morning light creates fantastic reflections in this shadowy world of blue and grey as were head out the inlet.

After navigating thru Malibu Rapids, we head directly across the fiord to the wall where depths are a mere 250’ or so and pick up our shrimp trap. The First Mate, after much thought regarding the coiling tendencies of rope, has come up with a “rope management system”. While The Captain hauls the trap up from the depths, The First Mate is right there with a large orange bucket into which she is coiling the rope. It’s brilliant! It works! The rope coils in obediently. The Captain is skeptical about how well it is going to uncoil, but he is duly ignored. What’s in the trap? Not exactly shrimp, but we do have a critter from the deep. While The First Mate is thinking that this is kind of fun seeing what shows up from the depths below, The Captain is muttering something about his experience from Navy Survival School. “If the energy exerted to obtain nourishment exceeds the amount of energy derived from that nourishment than the energy exerted is wasted effort and not very well suited to survival”, and he’s not sure how much longer he’s going to continue with this wasted effort. He continues to be duly ignored while The First Mate enthuses about her system of rope management. It worked. The rope is coiled and contained. Who says she doesn’t understand physics?

Note the critter. Note The First Mate’s delight. Note the orange bucket with rope coiled and neatly contained. Lastly, note the basil plant which against The Captain’s wishes is up and out for its morning airing.


We begin to head on out the fiord in glassy seas and no wind. The morning in-flow fiord wind gradually picks up after we round the first bend, and we are soon able to raise sail. In fact, the wind rises to over 20 knots, and a reef has to be put in. We tack from one side of the fiord to the other sailing right up to the granite walls. The Captain returns to a much better frame of mind, and we continue on in this wonderful, beautiful, magical world of blue and grey.

Mystery aboard Avante

In Search of Gremlin Number One

I have been told that every boat has a Gremlin or two lurking aboard her somewhere. Gremlins are the creators of mysterious happenings or events for which a cause cannot be determined initially and sometimes never.

We have encountered our first Gremlin. Even The Captain is flummoxed. Here is the story:

A few evenings ago, I requested a high-powered drink: a soda water and a slice of lime. Our cans of soda water and tonic are stored in plastic boxes below a set of floorboards. Bill lifts up the floorboards and, believing I had requested a tonic, he retrieves a can of tonic. The can is light. He shakes it. There is nothing in it. He picks up another can. It too is empty. Of the six cans in storage, five are empty and one is half-full. He then checks the soda water, and they are fine, full and bubbly.

The First Mate does get her requested soda water and slice of lime, but the mystery remains: What happened to the tonic in the tonic cans? The cans had been bought last season, probably in Sitka on our return trip from Alaska. They were stored for the winter in the plastic box as described in the above paragraph. Frost is rare up here, but they do have plenty of cold and rain. The cans look and appear perfectly normal. The top openings are intact. There is no bulging to any of the cans. Each looks like an unopened can of soda should look. Though there is a slight discolored roughness to the bottom edges of the cans, there is no sign of puncture. There are no holes. We open one can and fill it with water. It does not leak. We set it in a bowl and leave it overnight. In the morning, there is no leakage or seepage. The bowl is perfectly dry and so is the bottom edge of the can. How did all that tonic get out? There is no way that it simply vaporized.

A second question also arises: Whatever mysterious event took place, why did it only happen to the tonic cans. Why not also to the soda water cans?

Can anyone solve this mystery? Are there any Sherlocks out there? Maybe this calls for an Einstein. Where did the tonic water go? What happened?

In Quest of Shrimp

The shrimp in Desolation Sound are this B-I-G! That is what two independent and reliable Sources have told me. The caveat then follows that it all depends upon the year, which I ignore because this is going to be my year. I can feel it!

Last year when we sailed into Desolation Sound armed with all the paraphernalia one needs to catch crabs, we were told that there were no crabs in Desolation Sound. No CRABS! How could that be? I imagined some kind of deep sea sign out there warning crabs not to trespass, but it turns out that the waters (at a balmy 55 or so degrees) are too warm for crabs. Refusing to be so easily put off, I baited my crab trap and dropped it in Okeover Bay, where I was told (perhaps out of pity) that any crab that crawled into Desolation Sound made it over to Okeover Bay. No luck.

Shrimp, however, abound in Desolation Sound, and it was the beginning of shrimp season. Fleets of shrimp boats were out there. With envy, I watched them pull in their traps. I imagined them full with the luscious morsels. Gambas al Ajillo: Shrimp delicately sautéed with Garlic. “Oh, Bill, just imagine if we had a shrimp trap,” I enthused. “NO,” said he emphatically. “You have already brought onto this boat a crab pot and some 75’ of line with a float attached. We have a deep sea fishing rod and all sorts of fishing gadgets. All this stuff takes up room. This is a SAILBOAT. We are not part of the fishing fleet. End of discussion.” Can’t you just hear him?

Well, that was last year, and as a fine red wine mellows with age, so too has The Captain of the sailing vessel Avante. With sighing resignation, I am told to go get the “damn trap”. Which I did. The Captain flew off to Chicago for a board meeting, and The First Mate flew into the car and headed off in search of a shrimp trap and whatever else one needs to shrimp. Such information proved as difficult to gather as "How to Catch Crabs" and "How to Catch Salmon" did last year. I have decided that up here in the Pacific Northwest this procuring of food from the sea is pretty much a male activity. I have yet to find a woman who knows anything about this sport, if sport it be. It has been from men that I have had to pull such information, and no man out there will ever tell you that he only knows part of the story. Therefore, going in search of “How to Catch Shrimp” information takes time, energy, patience and a good sense of resigned acceptance of erroneous fiction as fact.

What does one need to catch shrimp? One cannot use the same trap as one uses to catch crab. That would be too easy. Since shrimp are smaller than crab, the mesh of the trap must be smaller and, more importantly, the opening into and, therefore, out of the trap has to be smaller or one’s shrimp will escape in high glee after eating all the bait one has so assiduously placed there for them. Thus, another trap will have to be added to the lazarette. This one proves to be a bit larger than the crab trap, but, fortunately when folded, it is not much bigger. Bill will be somewhat mollified. I am told by this Source that it is not as good a trap for trapping shrimp as this big round one he now shows me, but as the round one does not collapse and therefore could never fit into a lazarette, I told the Source that the shrimp were just going to have to like my collapsible trap.

Onto the counter goes the trap which comes with its own weight or I would have had to add that to the counter. Next comes a bait container. Then the rope --- this part I have been dreading because I have been told by another Source that I need a minimum of 300’ of sinkable rope. The Source I am now talking to shows me the correct rope to use: one that somehow has lead laced into it. Lead? How am I ever going to pull that rope and my trap full of shrimp to the surface? He tells me that it isn’t that bad and that I actually only need 250’. It takes forever to real off 250’. Assuming I can pull in 18” on one pull, that’s 166.6666 pulls. My trainer back in Telluride will love the upper body strengthening if I don’t drop dead first. The only item left to put on the counter is a float, but this store is out of floats. The Source tells me that one of the two hardware stores in town will have a float. My bill for trap, bait box and leaded rope is about $110. Not bad, I guess. That’s a lot of shrimp.

Off to the first hardware store. No luck. The second store offers to sell me a big, round orange ball. This Hardware Store Source says that it is the best because it is so visible. Maybe so, but it will not fit in the lazarette, and it will not be hung off the side of the boat either. He has no other floats for me, but gives me directions to a kind of marine second-hand store. A light orange tubular float of the right size is bought. I feel elated. I have saved money. My second-hand float is $10.00 instead of the $25.00 new. However, this Second-hand Store Source now, quite gravely, assures me that 250’ of rope is in no way enough. I need 350 or more! One starts shrimping at 250’, and one can and should shrimp more deeply than that, especially in Desolation Sound. Now what to do? I cannot simply hide the too-short rope and buy 350’ more. I decide that The Captain is just going to have to use his rope tying skills. Off I go to another marine store. This new Source listens to my plight and suggests that I do not need 100’ more of the leaded rope. I can use a less expensive (like that word) and lighter (even better word) rope with a weight added (don’t like that verb) to make sure the whole mess sinks so no boat propeller gets tangled in it – most of all, our own. He tells me that this is what many shrimpers do to cut down on weight. Sounds good to me – so $30.00 later, I am all set to shrimp. That’s $150 worth of shrimp catching stuff. The critters had better be out there.




Behold The Captain expertly connecting all the parts.




Next I buy a Canadian fishing license, the cost of which I do not add into the cost of shrimping since that license covers all my crab, salmon, halibut and shrimp catches. I am now ready to harvest our dinners from the bounty of the sea.

It is Saturday, June 7th. We leave Montague Harbour with our power-hungry but not efficiently power-producing boat and head off to explore a another part of the Gulf Islands. It is a beautiful day, but alas no wind. We anchor off Wallace Island Marine Park. Tides are running exceptionally low, and as you can see from the picture, we did not want to risk taking Avante with her 8 1/2’ keel into the bay. We launch The Dingbat and head to shore. It was just wonderful to again be on land and stretch our legs walking under a blue, sunny sky. Not wanting to anchor for the night in as exposed a position as we then were, we head to Clam Bay. Here, without our usual prolonged discussion and analysis of the best crab crawling location, we simply drop our crab trap off the stern after anchoring. In the morning, we pick up that trap and to both our delights, there are two of the biggest male crabs we have seen to date. That night’s feast rode unceremoniously in a bright orange bucket to the harbor in Canoe Cove before being dispatched for dinner. What a feast! The bounty of the sea at our table at last.


Prior to entering Canoe Cove, we had carefully chosen a spot for our first casting of the shrimp trap. With acrobatic aplomb, The First Mate danced thru an impossible tangle of rope, weights and feet and eventually got the trap in the water without deep-sixing herself with it. The Captain was aghast. However, the trap sank in 250’ of water with the float bobbing merrily along. We each marked, in his or her own way, the location of that happily bobbing float and continued on into Canoe Cove to fix our boat. The trap would be down for the whole time we were to be in harbor getting our alternator repaired.

On Tuesday, June 10th, in the early afternoon, we leave Canoe Cove. Avante’s spare alternator has been modified to fit and has been installed. The failed alternator will be rebuilt pending our return in July. She also has two new, upgraded Voltage Regulators and new belts – she is purring along beautifully and putting out that all important battery charge. She is set: We are set!

We motor out to our shrimp trap or to where we each in his/her own way think the trap is. It is not there. We scan the area. The binoculars are in high demand. We decide we need two binoculars on board. A “His” and a “Hers” for His eyes are different from Her eyes, and binoculars in such situations are not compatibly shared. There are several bright orange round floats out there -- the kind of float that the Hardware Store Source told me was the kind to buy because they were highly visible. Should have listened. Where is our faded orange second-hand tubular shaped float? Nowhere. Did it sink? Was it stolen? Who would do that? We circle around relieved that no one is afloat near us to watch this scene. Finally, off in left field, as far as both the navigators are concerned, we spot the float. A faded orange tubular float has limited visibility bobbing around on the great wide ocean, but how could I have guessed? We motor over. The First Mate has a very difficult time getting the hook under the float to catch the rope, but catch it she finally does. She begins to haul all 350’ onto the deck. It’s not that bad. Hey, she can do this! Next thing she knows, The Captain takes over, not capable of standing there watching the rope scrape along Avante’s midnight blue hull. The First Mate’s job is to coil the rope as it is being hauled in, but it’s coming in faster than she can coil, and it doesn’t want to coil the way she wants it to coil. The rope has a mind of its own! Again, she is a tangle of rope, weights and feet. Plus it smells, and it’s wet. It’s a mess, but the shrimp will be worth it. Just wait --The following pictures tell it all.





Retrieving the shrimp.

They squiggled and jumped --- a right startling sight!

Here’s one. Notice the gloves. They were not on because it was cold. They were on because that is the only way The First Mate would pick up one of those things. Bounty of the Sea? The First Mate realizes she really did not until then know exactly what a live shrimp looked like or acted like. Now she knows.

And Here They Are!

all 3 and 1/2 of them!










Along with our bounty were two Rock Crabs that we thought could be added to the feast until we remembered to check sex and size. On both counts, they went back into the sea.

Still, Gambas al Ajillo is made. We share our catch -- 1 and 1/2 shrimp each , but that most succulent, most tender taste has us yearning for more. Our catch - fresh from the sea – there is nothing better!

Here we go back again

Friday, May 30th, we set sail, and sail we did! The Inside Passage, which runs roughly from Seattle to Juneau, is a protected water highway of islands and channels for most of its length. Here, occupants of sailing vessels, especially in the less windy summer months, count themselves blessed if there is wind enough to raise sail. If there is also sun, then they are truly blessed. Well aware of our good fortune, we sail happily to Roche Harbor on San Juan Island. Our first order of business is to clear US Customs. The special Work Permit that Avante had had for her winter in Canada requires us to clear back into the US before cruising further. After clearing Customs, we call the harbormaster for a temporary tie-up so we can go ashore to walk around a bit.

Roche Harbor is one of our favorite spots, in spite of the strong currents that run through the harbor often making both anchoring and tying up to the docks a challenging experience. Last July when we motored in to clear Customs, the little harbor was full of anchored boats as well as a haphazard line of motor and sailing vessels waiting to tie up to the Customs Dock. We joined this informal line-up. Ahead of us was a big motor vessel that, blissfully unaware, kept idly backwards into us. Behind us was another 50’ sailboat whose captain was having a very hard time holding position. What needs to be mentioned here is that this meandering line-up crossed the path that the commercial seaplanes used to get to their dock. Thus, every time a plane came in or took off, our line-up had to scatter to give that plane room to maneuver. Feeling a bit squeezed, I suggested to Bill that he might like to take over the helm, but, quoting this as another good learning experience, he refused.

A boat on water does not sit still. Currents pull her, winds push her and even in dead calm, an idling prop crawls her one direction or another. It’s a trick to get her to stay in one place especially when other boats, a mere handshake away, are engaged in the same dance. For well over 45 minutes, we all jockey around out there. Finally, it is Avante’s turn to head into the dock. A boat has finally pulled off the dock leaving roughly a 50’ space open between boats. I slowly ease us up, but there is no way Avante is going to fit into that vacant spot unless I lift her up and place her in like a jigsaw puzzle piece. I have to circle around and hope that the boat behind me does not take my turn. It wisely does not and fortunately another boat leaves the dock giving Avante room to angle in. I pull in close to the dock. Bill jumps off, quickly ties off the line in his hand, but I have misjudged the outward pull of the current from the dock. The bow swings way out. It is a stretch to throw Bill the bowline and a super human effort for him to pull her back in. Bill, not too very pleased with this sterling performance, stomps off to the Customs Shack. Chagrined and stuck on the boat, I watch the sailboat behind us come in. Even with bow thrusters, they do such a miserable job that I have to jump off Avante and give them a hand before they take out Avante in their efforts. I now feel better. I may not have made a smooth landing here, but at least Bill and I did it on our own without half the people on dock helping us. I have discovered that contrary to our experiences in Telluride where no matter how physically good you think you are, there is always someone better, out here on the water, no matter how badly I think I am doing, there usually is someone doing worse. Small consolation, but at least it does offer a way to “save face” if not also some much needed encouragement.

This time, this day, I make a perfect landing at Customs and later gently stop Avante right next to our temporary dock so all Bill has to do is step off the boat with a line. I receive a “well done” from Bill, and that’s enough to make my day!

Roche Harbor is a popular tourist spot with the Hotel de Haro brightly dominating a commanding harbor view. The Hotel’s gardens are ablaze with lilacs. In the 1800’s, the McMillan family ran a limestone mining operation on the island and for a time was the largest employer in the area. Last fall when we stopped here with Telluride friend, Sally Puff Courtney, and her sister, Barbara Puff, on board, we hiked out to the Afterglow Vista Mausoleum, a final resting place built by father McMillan for himself and his family.

What a strange place! In the middle of the forest stands a circle of columns. Within the circle is a large stone dining table surrounded by chairs with the names of a family member edged onto each back. All kinds of questions arise. Why and what for? Answers are long ago buried with the builder.

Time passes, and the offices of the Limestone operation are now a well-stocked grocery store to which Bill and I head for wine and fish for tonight’s dinner.

Shopping completed, we untie and head across to anchor in Reid Harbor. Our favored spot to anchor is below a house whose owners once gave us two very nice crabs just taken out of their crab pots. That was about nine years ago on a bare-boat charter vacation. We offered to pay this nice couple for the crabs, but they assured us that they already had a freezer full of crabs taken from right below their summer home. Wow! A freezer full! Now you can see why “How to Catch Crabs” was so important to me on our trip to Alaska last year. There is a bounty of crabs out here --- somewhere --- just waiting to be caught!

That evening began the first of what was to become a series of quirky system failures that hits us or, more rightly speaking, hits Bill. The reliable Westerbeke Generator is not sending out any AC current. Without power from the generator we have no heat and are limited in electric power use by our battery capacity. This problem is a bit of a surprise as the system had checked out perfectly when Bill had tested it in Canoe Cove. The Captain pulls out the manual for the Generator, but this manual spends 95% of its content covering the diesel engine that powers the generator and says almost nothing about the actual generator. The port aft cabin is pulled apart to access the Generator, and the cumbersome sound dampener that covers the Generator is removed. Tests are made. The Generator is working perfectly except for its refusal to provide AC. Finally, Bill discovers an on/off switch for the Generator output. There’s no mention of it anywhere in the manual. Bill figures that somehow in replacing the thick, heavy noise insulation cover over the Generator back in Canoe Cove that the little switch must have been hit. The switch is turned on. AC is back on line. Bill adds this new item to his schematics of Avante’s systems.

Leaving Reid Harbor, we sail up Rosario Strait to Sucia Island Last fall, with Sally and Barbara Puff on board, the sail up this channel had been exhilarating with high winds and rolling seas.

That’s Sally at the helm.

This time, conditions are balmier and calmer, but there is still plenty of wind to raise the sails.

Sucia Island is a Marine State Park with some of the most interesting trails in the area. The island is made of sandstone, and along its many beaches are fascinating and dramatic sandstone shapes carved out by the sea and wind. We’ve enjoyed many hikes here in beautiful weather, but with the cold, overcast weather that had blown in by the time we anchored, we decide to stay put on Avante. Looking at our many pictures of island hikes in warmth and comfort is much more inviting and inspiring.
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On Sunday, June 1st, we sail back into Canadian waters, raise our Canadian courtesy flag and clear Customs at Bedwell Harbor on South Pender Island. We anchor below a luxury resort with the romantic name of Poet’s Cove. Both of us recall the time 2 years’ ago when Bill shooed me and our son, David, off the boat to go climb Mt. Norman while he dug around and replaced a malfunctioning water pump. I fondly remembered the hike with David while Bill not so fondly recalled his interlude with the water pump. This time, with nothing amiss, I suggest that he should climb Mt. Norman, for the view from the top overlooking the islands is impressive.

We do just that enjoying a wonderful late afternoon climb to the top. We look across the islands toward Sidney and then down toward Turn Point Lighthouse on Stuart Island.

As we sit there taking in the view, a large freighter blows its horn as it approaches this hazardous turn whose blind corner can be dangerous to the casual cruiser. Boundary Pass flows up one side of Stuart Island, and Haro Strait comes up the other where they tumultuously converge just past Turn Point. From our lofty view, we are surprised at how clearly these converging currents show their turbulent waters. They look just as forceful from up here as they are down there riding thru them.

Top left is the freighter. Just about top middle is Turn Point. Running out from there is the line of turbulent current caused by the merging of the two masses of water.

It is so pleasant sitting there in the last of the warm afternoon sun that we are reluctant to head back down Mt. Norman to Avante anchored in the bay. This afternoon will rank up there as one of our nicest in the Gulf Islands. That is --until we return to The Dingbat, and Bill almost breaks the pull cord on the motor trying to start it. It appears to be seriously binding. Not being able to pull out that cord is my frequent wimpy complaint, but when Bill can’t pull it, then I know there’s a problem. Fortunately, he does get it started and we head back to Avante where some tweaks and oil eventually (and simply) resolve this issue.

The next day we head to one of our most favorite island stops – Ganges Harbor on Salt Spring Island. This is where I will do the bulk of my shopping for next 10 days’ journey to and thru Desolation Sound and the Broughton Archipelago. There are also a few other stores I want to visit one last time. I’m ready! On the way in, we drop our crab trap (did you think I had forgotten about this activity?) with high hopes as we see other floating markers of crab traps out there. The wind is up when we anchor and having had some difficulty in the past getting a good set in this harbor, we decide to stay on the boat for a while until the wind drops as expected. When we finally arrive at Mrs. Clean’s Laundromat where the showers are located, we are half an hour before closing. Only one shower is operational, and that is questionable. It seems the coin-operated water meter is broken. But – never fear - they have by-passed the machine. Now the person about to take the shower who is standing there on the wet floor, in his or her all-together, is to press on this wire that then makes the connection that turns on the water. The water runs for about a minute (if you’re lucky) and then stops leaving the showerer, now dripping wet and really standing in water, with no option but to hit this wire again praying all the time that there’s no current connection to be made between that wire and his/her body. I don’t like this set-up at all, but not having much time to spare or much of an option, Bill pulls me into the shower room with him -- and I’m sure we’ve given the three dread-locked kids standing around doing nothing something to talk about for the rest of the day. “You’ll never guess what this old geezer and gal did! In the shower, they went together. Wow, man, groovy.” Or, maybe a la James Bond, we’re two international spies about to trade secrets. Oh, well, let ‘em talk. We take our showers and do not get electrocuted. Bill exits the shower. I follow a stealthy five minutes later. To my disappointment, the dread-locked kids are gone having lost interest in our imagined romantic tryst or potential international plotting. Of course, there is no electric outlet anywhere to plug in my hair dryer so I plant my baseball cap with “Avante” lettering firmly on my wet head and off I go to the grocery store before it, too, closes. Strange the things one will do coming off a boat that one would never do anywhere else ever!

Back on the boat, Bill is bothered by a seeming failure of the batteries to charge as well or as rapidly as expected. He considers that these batteries must be about 8 years old and maybe not charging as newer ones would. We have been mostly sailing these last few days and thus not running the Yanmar Diesel Engine whose job, after turning the propeller, is to charge the batteries. Maybe we just have not been giving the batteries enough charge time. The system bodes watching. In the meantime, we start the Westerbeke Generator and keep it running until the batteries show a full charge.

The next morning a fine rain is falling. We decide that while I do the laundry, Bill is going to get the water maker operational. It is the only system that he has not checked out since the boat was winterized last fall. Upon my return, Bill is deep in the bowels of the port lazarette working on that water maker. Pump runs. Everything seems fine except that he can’t get the suction going. Out comes the manual for that system, and well into the afternoon, we are finally making water. It feels like a hospital post-operation scene. When the patient “makes water”, you may leave. Except we decide not to leave. It’s late, cold and rainy.




Bill has spent more hours this trip at the Nav Station not navigating but rummaging his way thru service manuals.

It is overcast with hardly a breath of wind on Wednesday, June 4th, as we motor out of Ganges Harbor. Just to keep us from becoming too cocky after three days of fine sailing, Mother Nature throws in a series of low fronts coming down from the Gulf of Alaska for the next few days. We pick up our crab trap with great expectancy. This trap has been down there for well over 24 hours. It has got to be full with the bounty of crabs out there. I haul in two beautiful Dungeness Crabs – both female. So back they go into the Great Blue to reproduce as they should. (I do enjoy the fact that in the world of Crabs, male crabs are deemed redundant and expendable.) We console ourselves with the fact that we at least did catch crabs, and that’s a monumental improvement over our first efforts last year. We head back to Canoe Cove.

Now, what I have not mentioned is that though the new sails made by North Sails are up and beautiful, North Sails failed to send us the correct battens for these sails. Battens are these long, flexible shafts that slide into pockets in the sail. They help a sail hold its shape and decrease flutter. North Sails made both the mainsail and its matching battens. Why the wrong battens were sent is beyond me, and, of course, it’s not until the sail is installed on the boat and the battens about to be slid into place that one can see that the sizes are wrong. There are five battens of graduated lengths for the mainsail. Only three fit. One is too short and one is too fat. Out came the cell phone, but it was Memorial Day back in the USA, and businesses were closed. Finally, Bill was able to contact a North Sails service representative at home who explained how North Sails should have trimmed the end of the widest batten to fit the medium size opening. This will require some type of machine tool, but as we are still in a boatyard, Bill leaves with the too fat batten and returns within the hour with it properly trimmed. Easy fix for that batten, but not so for batten #3 which is 16” too short. North Sails promises to express ship the correct size batten the next day. Let’s see – San Diego to Sidney, BC thru Canadian Customs – it’s anybody’s guess as to how long that will take. As it had not arrived by the time we were ready to leave, we decide to take off for our farewell tour around the islands hoping that it will arrive before we head north out of the area. That’s why we’re heading back to Canoe Cove: the batten has finally arrived. We pick up the batten and put it in the sail. It fits and off we go to Montague Harbor on Galiano Island. This will be our last stop before heading north up Trincomali Channel and across the Strait of Georgia to Desolation Sound.

We motor past Montague Harbor to drop the crab trap in a convenient spot to be picked up on our northerly exit tomorrow morning and then head back to anchor in the Harbor. Anchoring accomplished, Bill goes below to begin his end-of-the-day check and notations. To our dismay, he finds that the batteries received absolutely no charge from the Yanmar Engine that had been running for several hours today. That’s not good. The Westerbeke Generator is powered up to charge the batteries, but this is a problem that halts all further journey until resolved. Our primary source of battery charge is not working.

Now begins The First Mate’s course in Basic Boat Mechanics and Electricity. As you may recall from the blog entry, “The Intrepid Mariner”, Physics is not one of my fortes. Well, Basic Boat Mechanics and Electricity ranks right up there with Physics. It takes great effort to stay focused as Bill commences The First Mate’s education. The eyes want to cloud over. The brain wants to wander. The process of absorbing and understanding is painful. Finally, I resort to sketching a flow chart of how energy is inputted, transformed and used around the boat. It helps me at first, but Bill’s explanation of the systems keeps on going. Will it stop? There’s too much. One flow chart becomes 2, then 3. Now I’m drawing lines and arrows to connect systems across pages. My comprehension decreases as the number of pages increases. I’m frustrated to tears. This can’t be so hard. Bill, between pity and disbelief, draws up a schematic using one concise page instead of my mess of five.

Avante’s creature comforts are sophisticated. Of her many power-hungry systems, we have heating/air conditioning, a microwave, AC outlets, surround sound with a flat screen TV and CD/DVD player as well as water heater, refrigerator/freezer, water maker, auto pilot, radar and (most important) the Cappuccino machine. There are 3 sources of electric power available. The easiest to understand from my perspective is shore power. Plug it in -- 120 volts AC -- right there on the dock. It feeds all the systems requiring 120v AC. It also sends current to the Inverter that cleverly thru a maze of arcane electronics stuff inverts the 120v AC to 12v DC. This 12v DC output feeds or recharges a bank of big batteries. These batteries provide power for all the 12v systems on the boat like lights, radios, navigation equipment, water pumps, refrigeration, the cigarette lighter type outlets, vacuflush toilets, and the very critical Bilge Pumps. Unfortunately, shore power is only available when we are tied up to a dock in a mariner that offers shore power.

A second source of power is the Westerbeke Generator, a bit of a confusing misnomer in itself. The Westerbeke is both a Diesel Engine and a Generator. An engine on its own doesn’t create electricity. An engine turns things, and this engine’s sole job is to turn the Generator. This Generator is one that produces 120v AC current, just like shore power, except that we can use it while cruising to charge up the batteries and produce heat in the morning.

A third source of electric power is the Yanmar Diesel Engine, a big, hulking monster that lives behind the companionway steps. It has 4 jobs to do: 1. Turn the shaft that in turn rotates the propeller to move the boat 2. Heat the water in the water tank located under our bunk 3. Charge the small, but very important, engine battery that starts both the Yanmar and the Westerbeke and 4. Charge the 12 V bank of batteries. Like the Westerbeke, the Yanmar is only an engine unable on its own to produce current. Our lucky little Yanmar has two Alternators (a type of generator). As opposed to the Generator on the Westerbeke that puts out 120v AC, these two Alternators put out 12v DC. One Alternator solely charges the small engine starter battery. The second Alternator charges the bank of batteries. Additionally, each Alternator has a Voltage Regulator in line with it. The Voltage Regulator monitors the charge on the batteries and tells its Alternator to get producing when the batteries need charging. Does all that make sense? Not to me unless I have my schematic in front of me.



Sue’s personal Electrical Schematic, color coded, and about as easy to read as these things can possibly be.

The reason I went thru all this is so the non-mechanical and non-electrical of my blog readers will be able to appreciate and understand how critical our problem is. On our power hungry boat, one of our sources of battery charge (the Yanmar Engine) is not working. That does leave us with 2 other options (shore power and the Westerbeke Generator), but by heading north to Desolation Sound and the Broughton Archipelago, we will be sailing into an area with few marinas where we can plug into shore power. We will be remote and on our own. Thus, not being able to count on shore power to recharge those batteries means we will be relying on only one power source – the Westerbeke. There is no backup. Taking off with this handicap is just not acceptable. Imagine if the Westerbeke were to fail on the desolate west coast of Vancouver. No lights, radios, navigation, water or toilets!!

We know only that somewhere between the Yanmar Diesel Engine and the batteries lies our malfunction. Bill spends the rest of the evening and all of the next day until 8:30pm working and quietly cursing. The cabin is torn apart. Floorboards are uprooted. It’s a disaster zone. The First Mate is told to just stay out of the way, and I do so by roosting in the owners’ cabin quietly occupied with my own concerns. It takes quite a while for Bill to find the Voltage Regulators. They are demonically tucked up into a recessed dark corner. In the process, he finds an even better hidden group of fuses. One is broken. Having a spare for almost everything, Bill quickly replaces it hoping that maybe this fix will solve the problem. But that would have been too easy. It does not. The Voltage Regulators check out to be doing their jobs. The one Alternator that charges the small engine-starting battery proves to be working. Thru this process of potential problem elimination, the culprit is unearthed. It is the Alternator that charges the main battery bank. Amazingly, we do have a spare Alternator onboard. Taking out the malfunctioning one is not easy, as Bill has to physically disconnect all the batteries, which requires pulling up lots more floorboards. However, putting in the spare is worse. It is slightly too wide to fit into the mounting brackets. Bill crams and wedges it in only to find out that the pulleys on the spare Alternator are larger than on the malfunctioning Alternator. This meansg that the belts will not fit. Now the spare has to be removed, and the malfunctioning Alternator put back in even though it is capable of doing nada. At least we know where we stand or, perhaps I should say, where we are going ---- back to Canoe Cove for repairs.

The next day would be Friday, June 6th, and we know that by the time we motor back to Canoe Cove, it will be too late to get much done. All services are closed over the weekend. Over a family tete a tete at dinner, we decide to spend the weekend cruising around some of the Gulf Islands that we have not had an opportunity to visit. Sunday evening Avante will be anchored close to Canoe Cove so we can easily motor in early Monday.

The next morning, Bill calls Canoe Cove to alert them of our situation, and they promise to have their best man ready to come on board as soon as we arrive. How long the fix will take is anybody’s guess. A day or two? Hopefully.

Looking on the bright side of things as one must, there are several somewhat positive comments we can make about this predicament.

1. The Captain now knows more about the Mechanical and Electrical set up of Avante than ever before. He, too, has drawn up schematics. Some day out there off Bora Bora or some other remote place, it will be good to have this information at his fingertips.

2. The First Mate, too, now knows more about the Mechanical and Electrical doings of Avante than ever before. She can understand the lingo and nod/sigh knowingly at appropriate spots in any conversation regarding such doings.

3. Our crab pot has been down all this time. It will be full!

4. We have not missed anything by being stalled these last several days. It has done nothing but rain with the exception of occasional clearing in the early evening. The weather has got to be better when we restart this adventure!












5. When we return to Canoe Cove, I will be able to drive over to the Safeway, grab a Starbucks’ Latte in this bastion of civilization, and post this blog.






6. The Captain and First Mate are still talking and marital bliss continues.