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CIRCUMNAVIGATING VI IN A COUPLE OF OLD BOATS: 2ND
Circumnavigating VI in a Couple of Old Sailboats... Fair Winds and Mast Destruction
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THE SECOND INSTALMENT IN A FOUR-PART SERIES
—First instalment in Passions Winter 2020 (fairwinds.ca)—
by Rob O‘Dea
In a misty west coast rain that built to downpours throughout the day, our two sailboats (Odin and Ern), skippers Arnt and I, and our current crew of three including Simon, Leif, and Peter, motored out of Port McNeill in flat calm seas as we continued on with our journey. In the previous two weeks we had suffered engine failure, a 3 a.m. collision with a massive log and root ball, and a dismasting— not our only dismasting on this trip! We were a week behind on our sail plan and eager to move on to new adventures that didn’t involve boat repairs. Our excitement was palpable as we neared the gateway to the West Coast of Vancouver Island.
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Lunch stop at Guise Bay, Cape Scott
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Rob O'Dea skippering Ern
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Odin disappears behind a wave Odin coming into Bull Harbour
Despite the rain, we were huddled in the cockpit, clad in full wet-weather gear and watching nature’s TV. This morning’s program was Eagle School. We watched an adult bald eagle, with its brilliant white plumage, hovering 100 feet above the water, while a dozen younger birds flew just above and behind. Once everyone was in formation, the teacher folded its wings and plummeted towards the water, stretching its legs out in front as it approached the surface, but rather than plunge its talons into the water to grasp at a fish, the lead bird leveled out and flew a couple of feet above the surface, never touching the water. One by one, the pupils followed, repeating the mock strafe over the exact spot while the teacher watched from above. Today’s lesson, it seemed, was hovering and swooping! This parade was repeated through a number of cycles before we continued on our way and I wondered, if we had continued watching, whether the class might have gone on to the next lesson of actually trying to catch a fish.
Eagle School was followed by another fine program when a large pod of Pacific white-sided dolphins arrived, enthusiastically darting all around us and vying for the best position in our bow wave. With so much to see—and a selection of single malt scotch to take the chill off—the day passed by much too quickly. As dusk approached, we dropped anchor for the night just short of Hardy Bay. The rain finally stopped and in a swirling mist dramatically illuminated with the last of the evening light, the dinghies were launched for an evening row. Simon managed to find a sizable patch of mussels which made a great addition to our seafood pasta dinner, and we enjoyed another evening of live music performed on guitar, accordion, trumpet, and a dish tub with two wooden spoons for the percussion section. This was the final night of the trip for Peter and Leif, and with no replacement crew scheduled, Arnt would be sailing alone on Odin for the next week while Simon would be with me on Ern.
At 7:00 the next morning we dropped off the departing crew in Port Hardy and after a quick goodbye, cast off once again, dodging a gaggle of sport fishing boats at the mouth of Hardy Bay. For the next 25 miles we were beating into a headwind as we made our way through Goletas Channel. Although it was cold and we were bundled up in full gear including wool sweaters and thermal undergarments, we sailed under sunny skies the whole day, once again, accompanied by dozens of porpoises playing in our bow wake. We were now close enough to open water that we could see and feel a gentle swell coming in from the Pacific and it piqued our sense of adventure.
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Sea stacks in San Josef Bay Caves in San Josef Storm at Sea Otter Cove Winter Harbour music, celebration and reunion
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Author at the big spruce
Our destination for the night was Bull Harbour on Hope Island, the last stop before the big passage around the top of Vancouver Island. We arrived in the setting sun to find only one other boat in the bay and after we set our anchor and launched the dinghies, our new neighbour waved us over. He introduced himself as Charlie and said he had been there all alone for three days, afraid to go to shore because of the wolves he’d been warned were in the area. He was patiently waiting for any other boat to come along for company on the big passage.
Charlie had immigrated from Szechuan province in China just one year prior. He was very excited about being a new Canadian and in the first months after arriving, drove from British Columbia to Newfoundland and back again just to see the country. Once that was done and deciding that he wanted to experience BC from the water, he enrolled in sailing lessons, bought a 40-foot sailboat, and here he was six months later on a solo circumnavigation of Vancouver Island... pretty adventurous for a brand new Canadian from a land-locked province in China. Charlie would end up joining us for the next twelve days.
From Bull Harbour it is 37 miles to Sea Otter Cove. With no overnight all-weather anchorages between the two, the sevenhour passage would all have to be done in one shot. Along the way you pass Nahwitti Bar and Cape Scott, both notorious for their tide rips, standing waves, and whirlpools that build and subside (mostly) with the ebb and flood of the tidal current. Timing for the passage was critical and between the tide charts and marine weather forecast it looked like we would have a good window the following day. Our departure time was set for 6 am.
We awoke to clear skies and light winds. By the time the sun popped up from behind Hope Island, we were on our way. We passed Nahwitti Bar with ease and an hour later we could see Cape Scott on the horizon. The wind built to 15 knots and we enjoyed a great sail, tacking the 22 miles to Cape Scott and timing our rounding of the Cape to coincide with slack current, but even at slack there were still large, debris-choked swirls in the water and six-foot standing waves popping up all over the place. In the confused water we saw our first sea otter of the trip, casually floating on its back and bobbing like a cork not 50 feet from the boats as we sailed by. After a short stop at Guise Bay for lunch and a beach excursion, we enjoyed a great downwind sail for the remaining eight miles to Sea Otter Cove. Success!
We had planned to spend three or four days in the Sea Otter Cove area and with a storm in the forecast, wanted to start exploring while the weather was good. We wandered the tidal flats and estuary in the cove, hiked through towering ancient rainforest on the trail to Lowrie Bay, with its long, wide, white sand beach and huge tidepools, and took one of the boats for a 45-minute trip over to San Josef Bay to explore its wonderous sea stacks and caves. The surf was up and the fishing for black rock cod, lingcod, and salmon was excellent. We were in heaven!
Late in the afternoon on day two, the forecasted storm blew up and we battened down the hatches to wait it out. We were tied up to the large hurricane buoys and added multiple mooring lines which hummed, croaked, and chafed in protest. The wind shrieked, the rain was coming at us sideways, and the mouth of the cove was a solid wall of breaking 15-foot waves. Charlie’s anemometer clocked the gale force wind at 46 knots or 90 kms per hour! Despite the maelstrom, things were relatively calm inside Ern’s cabin. Our diesel furnace kept us dry and warm and the Scrabble board provided a welcome distraction from the peril. Due to our fishing success just before the storm hit, we enjoyed a bottomless bowl of ceviche along with fish tacos, salsa, guacamole, and fluffy tortillas, all made from scratch.
By morning the storm had broken but the forecast called for more wind, rain, and fog. With 32 miles to get to Winter Harbour, the next safe port, and the location for a crew change two days hence, we took advantage of a short weather window and the three skippers made plans to depart at noon after a bit of clean up from the storm.
Arnt and Simon spent part of the morning searching for Charlie’s very tiny five-foot fiberglass tender, which had snapped its mooring line during the storm. They found the boat upright and dry about ¾ of a mile away and took it under tow. When they got back, Charlie was busy with something tied to his stern. He had caught a fish just before the storm and, being a chef from Szechuan, he wanted to keep the fish alive until he was ready to cook and serve it so he had put the fish in a live well tied to the stern of his sailboat. Now that we were getting ready to depart, he decided to let it go but unfortunately, it appeared that the fish was now dead. Charlie was visibly disgusted with himself for his carelessness, feeling even worse when we chided him for using a live well. As he took the fish out of the pen, it vigorously came to life and with a mighty splash, took off for the bottom. Charlie got soaked. Karma!
Hello, my name is Charlie
Sea Otter Cove Winter
Harbour crew change and reunion
Odin is dismasted
At the scheduled noon departure, although we motored out into a modest 15-knot wind, there were still big waves left over from the storm. The two larger keelboats enjoyed surfing down waves, but Odin was having a very different kind of day. At only 21 feet long and with a shallow two-foot draft including the bilge keels, Odin would have to prove her mettle in these seas. Even though the three boats were usually within shouting distance of one another, Odin and her 20-foot mast would completely disappear when the boats were in the troughs between waves. With the added challenge of being alone aboard Odin, Arnt described his day as “like riding in a tilt-a-whirl.” By late afternoon we rounded Kains Lighthouse at the mouth of Quatsino Sound. Just then, the sun came out and we enjoyed a beautiful 45-minute downwind sail into Winter Harbour. A perfect end to a challenging day!
Winter Harbour would be our home for the next three days. We were a day early for the crew change, so had time to clean up, re-provision, and explore the area while the new crew drove up from Vancouver. Simon was heading home after two weeks on board. My wife Sharon, who I had not seen since setting sail three weeks prior, would be joining me on Ern for the next three weeks, and Donald would be joining Arnt aboard Odin for two weeks. In addition to the new crew, Simon’s wife Pauline came along for the road trip, and Arnt’s wife Valerie joined the party with a surprise visit. Such a great reunion called for a special celebration, with excellent Szechuan food prepared by Chef Charlie, and live music into the night. The next morning, after a dockside home-cooked buffet breakfast, the departing crew and visitors left for the 10-hour drive home, and the three sailboats headed out mid-morning to continue the circumnavigation. With only 70 miles to travel before the next crew change in two weeks, we happily expected to lose ourselves for 14 days of sailing, surfing, fishing, hiking, beachcombing, and eating. That story will have to continue in the next installment.
Root Ball Collision Green Point Rapids
Whirlpool Rapids
