I Needed To Know This?

On July 9, we motor out of Tofino to continue our sail down the west coast of Vancouver Island. Once safely out of shallow Templer Channel, we raise sail and point south along the coast in 12 – 15 knots of wind. In two hours, the winds build up to 15 – 20 knots. After experiencing gusts in the 23-knot range, we turn into the wind and put in the first reef. The First Mate is feeling a bit uneasy. This feels stormy, not just windy. Waves and seas are up and seem to be building rapidly. Isn’t it getting to be time to take down our sails and head for shelter?

We sail on. With the wind building around us, The Captain pedantically proclaims to all and sundry (ie: me) that “the force of the wind is a function of the velocity squared.” “And that means?” I inquire, fearing that this sounds like physics again. After several attempted explanations and perambulations of the formula, I do believe I now have the gist of it. So here it goes: 10 knots of wind exerts a certain force on the sail. A 20-knot wind increases that force to 4 times as much as the 10-knot wind. (10 squared is 100 and 20 squared is 400). Another 5-knot increase in wind velocity to 25 knots increases the force by an additional 50% to 625. Thus, a seemingly incidental increase of 5 knots from 20 to 25 knots is a huge increase of force on the sails and definitely nothing to be taken lightly. Prior to this input of knowledge and formula, I simply knew that at 20 knots the first reef went in, at 25 knots the second reef went in and at 35 knots all sails came down, one closed the companion way, went below and prayed. Now, alarmingly, I now know exactly why 20 knots is a big deal and why 25 knots is an even bigger deal. Did I really need to know all this?

We are sailing downwind. The wind, not content with a mere 20 – 23 knots of blowing itself around, now increases to 25 knots and with gusts higher still. After having absorbed The Captain’s physics lesson in wind force on boat sails, The First Mate’s angst is itself many times squared at this increase in wind velocity. It is definitely time to put in that second reef. The Captain tells The First Mate to turn this boat around closer to the wind. Turning into the wind feels like one is increasing force as the sails fill more and the boat heels more when the turn is first initiated. For the unwary and in high winds and steep seas, this maneuver can be unnerving and usually puts the Squawk Meter on alert. Of course, the alternative is to keep on sailing until the wind increases enough to overpower both sail and boat. Not a good thing – so gamely I plant my feet behind this hunking big wheel and turn her into the wind. Two years ago, no way could I have done this. What a change! A sudden revelation flirts with my awareness: I feel confident up here handling the boat. I can do it. Avante can do it. Way to go, gal! Way to go, boat! To my further amazement, I actually find myself aware of the feeling that holding onto this bucking bronco (May I even say “taming” as in “controlling” this bucking bronco?) is exciting and fun. That realization is a real eye-opener for this landlubber. Wow – There really is hope of making me a sailor yet. Somehow, The Captain has had faith when and where The First Mate did not. What a great team we make! Our little joke for years has been that I am the one that makes him more human. True. However, he is the force that has gotten me to adventure forth and do more in life than I ever would have done on my own. A good team is worth its weight in gold! We’re Gold!

Together we get that second reef in and then take down the jib to further decrease sail exposure in the high wind and heavy seas. We are heading into Barkley Sound and its sheltering group of islands. According to the guidebooks, Effingham Bay, which is not far from the entrance into the sound, is sheltered and protected. We head in and drop sails in the lee of Effingham Island. Lee it may have been, but winds are still blowing 18 – 20. We motor down the length of the island to circle up into the bay. There are 2 boats already in this not very large bay. We wonder that anyone could call this a sheltered location. Though there are several small islands to hunker down behind, there is nothing significant to stop the NW wind bearing down on us. However, winds are supposed to drop in the evening and a quick study of the charts shows us no other nearby anchorage with enough depth for us. So, we anchor, uncomfortable with the fact that with the other boats already in place, we don’t have as much room to put out all the chain we would like. As evening
approaches, winds do not abate. Instead they increase to over 25 knots. This is not going to be a comfortable night. Both of us are alert and watching. The shore behind us is close. The other boats are close. Shortly before sunset, the couple on the boat nearest us is up on deck and moving around. To our surprise, they pick up anchor and motor out of the bay. Where they are headed at this late hour is beyond us, but we are not dismayed to see them go. The Captain decides to pick up our anchor and move over to where that boat was. This move will put us more in the shelter of a low-lying island and will allow us to put out more chain for better security in this building wind. Holding the boat steady and in place against a 20 to 25 knot wind as the anchor comes up is not easy. Holding the boat in position as the anchor is redeployed is not easy either. With relief, we are re-anchored, more chain is out, and we do feel more secure – somewhat. We head to bed both still dressed in our fleece and ready to hit the deck if necessary. With one eye on the wind meter in our cabin and an ear alert for the bing of the anchor alarm, we fitfully doze. It is not until about 3:00 in the morning that the winds finally decrease to the low teens. What a night!

Behind these low-lying islands is the sheltered and protected anchorage the guidebooks described. Effingham Bay – boy, can we make a play on that name!

Our plans are to spend the day exploring the islands in Barkley Sound, but our first objective is to find a good, sheltered anchorage. Effingham Bay is not it! Winds are supposed to keep on blowing and increasing thru the day just like yesterday. The first anchorage we try, after 1 1/2 hours of motoring into the island group, already has three boats in it, and there is not enough room for Avante. We then head to an area recommended for the fishing fleet in stormy conditions. It proves to be a large open bay area that feels anything but sheltered and is not very pretty. We decide to anchor, have lunch and study the charts. There are anchorages deeper into the island group, but they all take a few hours to motor to and we do not really want to do that. The Captain decides to head back out into the main channel to check out conditions in Effingham Bay. The First Mate is not excited about this idea, but as we head south to Effingham Island, it becomes quite obvious that with the increasing winds and turbulent seas, Effingham Bay is going to be every bit as dicey as it was the night before. So, we about face and head deeper into the island group. Shortly before 4:00, we motor into an area called Pinkerton Islands. It’s a pretty area and so sheltered from the winds that the warmth of the sun shines thru and down on us. The First Mate is delighted.

After the adventure of the previous day, The Captain allows The First Mate a full morning to relax, explore and to fish. We launch The Dingbat and head off. The Captain has his book, and The First Mate the fishing pole. She lowers that hook and jerks it up and down trying to imitate some kind of edible morsel for the fish below. Nothing happens. Not a bite that she is aware of. The Captain, unable to watch this exhibition of ineptitude, takes over and within a minute of lowering and jerking the hook, he lands a fish. A nice rock cod, ugly but edible. How did he do that? He patiently re-explains the finesse of this whole fishing exercise and hands the pole back to The First Mate. Down goes the hook. With straining effort, she concentrates on trying to feel something nibbling on that hook so many feet below her. She feels something. She pulls up sharply. There’s tension. Something is there. She reels it in. It’s another rock cod. Wow! With The Captain’s admonition not to swing the fish and hook wildly into the boat or anywhere toward his exposed body parts, she gets the fish into the dinghy. The Captain takes the fish off the hook and strings it with the other one. Two fish – not yet enough for dinner. Three fish later, and we have dinner and lunch. Fantastic! The First Mate is now a fisherperson. She’s got the hang of this. Whatever took so long?




We are now almost down the full length of the western coast of Vancouver Island. At 2:30 on the afternoon of Friday, July 11th, we head out of the Pinkerton Islands to cross the Seachart Channel to the little town of Bamfield. This is the traditional holding or staging point for one’s return trip up the Strait of Juan de Fuga. With winds funneling in from the sea, the Strait often experiences gale force winds. Boats sit in Bamfield waiting for good winds or no winds to head down the Strait. Our weather for the following day is supposed to be relatively calm in the morning with good wind in the afternoon.

Bamfield is a pretty town located on both sides of a narrow harbor entrance. We motor up and down it enjoying the scenery, but we decide to anchor in nearby Port Desire. We enjoy a quiet evening on Avante and head to bed early, for tomorrow we have a 5:00 am departure. This is not The First Mate’s ideal time to be up and about, but we have a 90-mile day ahead of us to reach Victoria Harbor. We need to arrive in the harbor prior to 5:00 pm in order to obtain a berth before the harbor office closes for the evening.

The rising sun and the early morning light just about make the getting out of bed at that hour worth the eye-opening effort.

As we head out toward the open sea, the water is like glass. After several days of high winds and turbulent seas, the contrast is striking.

Expecting good winds and a great sail, our trip down the Strait of Juan de Fuga, this last leg of our circumnavigation of Vancouver Island, is a bit of a disappointment. We spend the whole day motoring up the Strait. It is not until we reach Race Rock, about an hour from Victoria, that winds pick up enough to sail, but by then we are boat weary and just want to get into the harbor. Ironically, Barry and Irene off Lanikai later tell us that they had had a triumphant sail up the Strait to Victoria in 20-knot winds several days after our venture. Timing is everything – as that saying goes.

We arrive in Victoria Harbor at 4:00 and are tied up by 4:45 right below the Empress Hotel. The harbor is bright, shiny and alive with activity. There’s a bagpiper playing. The carillon is chiming. It is a wonderful show. What a welcome! We truly love Victoria Harbor.

Looking around, The First Mate sees everyone in shorts and T-shirts. Looking down, she sees herself in layers of fleece and storm boots. Something is definitely amiss here. Quickly she descends to reemerge on deck in warm-weather attire. Then the brand-new (“Designer” as The Captain disparagingly calls them) boat cushions are brought up followed by the teak deck table. Two gin and tonics appear, and we toast ourselves for a grand trip around the west coast of Vancouver Island. For The Captain, it was an undertaking in which he can take pride. For The First Mate, it was a learning opportunity that increased her sailing knowledge and experience and boosted her confidence in herself as a sailor.

We spend two delightful days in Victoria before returning to Canoe Cove. With Avante secure and clean, we head back to Telluride for the rest of the summer. Friends and family, golf and hiking await us in the mountains.
In September, we will head back to Avante and turn her south to San Diego, returning to where we started out two summers ago. At that time, we sailed north and found ourselves pounding into the wind and the waves for most of the way. It should be a much better sail heading south – or so we hope. From San Diego, we will head further south to Mexico in January, 2009.

We have thoroughly enjoyed our sojourn in the Pacific Northwest. The San Juan and Gulf Islands have been our playground. Our 3,000-mile voyage to and from Juneau, Alaska and our circumnavigation of Vancouver Island have been our challenges providing both of us with necessary learning opportunities. Though one can never be too confident on a boat, we feel more than ready and are eager to head south and take on new adventures. Need it be said that both The Captain and The First Mate are eager to shed the fleece and sail into the warm weather of Mexico?