24
Close to the Water
DREAMING OF THE INSIDE PASSAGE by Bruce Bateau
Tucked in with other cruisers at Lasqueti Island. In some ways I never really returned from the Inside Passage. After my meandering, six-week solo journey from Port McNeil to Anacortes in 2019, I found it difficult to sleep, waking odd hours in a sudden panic that I was dragging anchor or experiencing nightmares about lost oars and rogue waves. My body was on land, but my mind was still at sea — a condition I found oddly satisfying, proof of how thoroughly the long days on the water had affected me. I often thought of the morning when I rowed out of a tranquil inlet as the tide was turning. Looking down as I crossed the bar, I was shocked to see claw-like rocks just inches beneath my hull. Outside, I faced choppy seas and a sudden, fierce wind. I couldn’t turn back. Momentarily paralyzed about what to do, I hove to. I quickly realized I only had one choice: reef the main and set sail before I was washed on a lee shore. Once underway, the boat surged and skated over waves and through troughs, as if pulled onward by a hidden magnet. A foaming wake trailed behind, making an impressive hissing sound. I was thrilled with the speed and adrenaline of making such swift, smooth progress. Mountain peaks seemed to appear and slide out of view. It was the best sailing day of the entire trip; and back home, it 48º NORTH
replayed in my mind whenever I dreamed of being back on the Inside Passage. The only thing that could have improved the experience, I always thought during these daydreams, would have been someone there to share it with. My life at home was comfortable, even easy, but after a few months, the lack of new stimulation made my days feel flat and uninspiring. I spent my non-moping hours thinking about how and when to go back. But by late in the winter of 2020, my funk had transformed to creativity: I wrote and performed a one man storytelling show about my journey, excited about reliving the highlights and getting others stoked on adventuring. As I practiced the stories and got my wife’s feedback, their strength grew. The mystique of breaching whales, dinners with friendly cruisers, and secluded coves fired my wife’s imagination, transforming her from an occasional crew member to a potential partner in future northern cruising adventures. “Find a bigger craft than that old sail and oar boat,” she said, “one with a snug cabin, and I’m in.” So the search began for the right trailerable boat for our dreams: a little salty, but not too needy; big enough for two, but small enough to singlehand. Miraculously, by the first week
24
AUGUST 2021
