Sunday, June 12th. With fair skies, light winds, and again a temperature of 57ºF, we pulled in our lines at the Nanaimo Yacht Club, and turned 90º to the north to make our way to Departure Bay to exit Nanaimo.
Late one afternoon we heard what sounded like turbofan jet engines low to the water, and when we looked around a Canadian Coast Guard hovercraft was making a close “flyby” behind us at the marina. We’ve never seen one of these out on the water before, and have a hunch the Coast Guard just got it.
It was obviously just a lookey-loo drive-by, passing about 50’ off the end of our dock, then gunning the engines, sending up spray behind them. I haven’t seen a hovercraft since my Air Force days in Belgium, when I took it across the English Channel a couple of times, then again in 1995 when I took my parents on a European tour.
Shortly after the Coast Guard hovercraft was out of sight, we looked up and saw a Canadian Orca class patrol vessel, the Caribou. She’s a training vessel, at 105’, and after watching her dock we could tell that most of the crew were Navy recruits. Two of her sister ships, the Raven and the Renard, were across the dock from us in Ganges during Canada Day last year.
(Click on any image to see an enlarged version.)
Our stay in Nanaimo turned out to be longer than planned. The temporary fix using something called “life caulk” for our painful garfoso on Flying Colours’ starboard port window frame wasn’t curing, plus the weather forecast across the Strait of Georgia didn’t look good – strong winds and high waves – and that isn’t a crossing to take lightly.
On Thursday we made the move from the Port of Nanaimo Marina to the Nanaimo Yacht Club where we could get reciprocal moorage – first night free moorage, then ½ the price we’d been paying for any further nights we stayed. There were only two other boats on the guest dock when we arrived, and we took the best location available.
While at the Nanaimo Yacht Club dock, some friends dropped by for expected hors d’oeuvres – but we had to tell them it wasn’t a good idea to feed them.
Friday night we cheered on the Vancouver Canucks in their Stanley Cup Playoff series with the Boston Bruins – when you’re in Canada and that close to Vancouver you have to root for the home team! We were told the bar at the Yacht Club was open during the game, so we figured it might be fun to sit around with the local Canucks, as everyone in the region is in a frenzy over this (since Vancouver has never before won the Stanley Cup). We stopped by at 5PM when the game was due to start – and the place was totally empty. We decided to watch it back on Flying Colours.
Nanaimo and Victoria (and maybe Vancouver too) use these cute little water taxis. What a great idea!
By Saturday afternoon the life caulk seemed to be cured, and we felt it was OK to withstand heavy waves crashing into it on Sunday, so we got ourselves ready to go.
Luckily we got a call from Kap’s father in mid-afternoon wishing us a Happy Anniversary – both of us had totally forgotten it this year. We quickly decided to celebrate with a very nice dinner of Steak Diane on Flying Colours.
Looking back along the channel separating Nanaimo on Vancouver Island and Newcastle Island.
We were up at 6AM Sunday morning to check the weather. Our navigation software indicated a 10AM start was our shortest time, but with winds due to kick up in the afternoon Kap wanted to be out a bit before that. After a morning latte, we hauled our garbage up to the dumpster, took Gator for one last walk, and decided to get out of Dodge.
The cruise across the Strait of Georgia was estimated to be about 3½ hours, ending at the Seattle Yacht Club outstation at Garden Bay. With light winds and a clear blue sky along the inside channel of Newcastle Island, we figured it would be a smooth crossing.
As we turned eastward at the top end of Newcastle Island into Rainbow Channel, the wind picked up earlier than forecast and deep sharp-frequency waves began to pound us. Suddenly, it looked like a repeat of our horrendous cruise out of Gorge Harbour (near Desolation Sound) last year. We were in a wind against waves situation (i.e., the wind blowing in the opposite direction as the waves were running), which creates the steeper and rougher waves.
Kap immediately expressed concern and suggested we consider turning back to Nanaimo, or turning south and retreating to the Gulf Islands. I felt the decision was premature, holding my counsel on it, and within a few minutes we were able to turn a bit northward after passing Five Finger Island and now riding the waves instead of meeting them head-on. Things smoothed out considerably, although it was hard to maintain a straight course (even with autopilot) as we crested the tops of swells and rode into the troughs. We could tell Gator wasn’t taking it very well, and he looked a bit green around the gills, and was looking for some comfort.
For an hour we rode out the wind and heavy seas as we traveled NE across the center of the Strait of Georgia. As we passed the southern tip of Lasqueti and Texada Islands things smoothed out even more, and it actually became a pleasant cruise. I took over the helm while Kap got the water maker system running to top off our fresh water tanks and brushed up on our detailed chart for Pender Harbour (where the Garden Bay Outstation is located).
The entrance to Pender Harbour is obscured by several islands blocking the channel. There are two openings wide and deep enough to go through – the larger and deeper one on the left where there’s a bouy marker – and we chose that one.
Even at the main entrance channel it’s difficult to visually see what’s inside Pender Harbour, as more islands block the view.
Once inside, though, it opens up and you suddenly realize this is a popular weekend retreat for Vancouverites, with summer homes lining the shore – many of them very nice and some very large.
On the approach to Pender Harbour, we passed between the tiny Martin Island and the much larger Francis Peninsula, and discussed the possibility of dropping our prawn traps at the spot Steve and Shirley had recommended. Being our first time ever on our own for prawning, this seemed sort of risky, as it would involve mixing the messy bait in the teak-decked cockpit of Flying Colours. If you spill any of that nasty, messy stuff on the teak it wouldn’t be pretty. There are tricks to setting the pots in the exact right location – we’d heard that from all the old salts we’ve consulted so far – and it would be much more difficult from Flying Colours than from the more controllable dinghy. We also didn’t feel comfortable about the weather conditions for the return trip by dinghy to retrieve the pots, so we opted out of that idea.
The entrance to Pender Harbour is dotted with islands, but with today’s electronic navigation charts it’s pretty easy to wind your way through channels that would otherwise have you constantly watching paper charts (which we still do, but not as our primary navigation aids).
We passed the Madeira Park Marina, with its Government Dock that provides dinghy tie-up service for the provisioning grocery trips.
On approach to the Seattle Yacht Club Garden Bay Outstation, we could see that all three docks were completely empty. We’d have the place all to ourselves!
On shore, the outstation consists of a very nice clubhouse with a covered BBQ patio area (at the head of the dock ramp), and giving quarters for the permanent outstation managers hired by SYC.
The Seattle Yacht Club Outstation is about halfway into Pender Harbour, at the NE tip of a small bay called Sinclair Bay. From about ½ mile away I put the binoculars on the outstation to see if there would be room for us to moor. I was incredulous that it appeared totally empty of boats. Last time we were here was in 2007, our first year in the Seattle Yacht Club, at about this same time of year, and it was so full that rafting was required. We figured that fuel prices and the poor summer weather we’ve had so far must have kept a lot of people at home.
Our solitary moorage on the three docks at the Garden Bay Outstation. You can’t get much more privacy in what’s otherwise an RV park.
We picked the best spot in the house and headed for it, still amazed at our good fortune. It didn’t last long, though. Within the hour we saw another boat coming in – a Nordhavn with a couple we know who keep it near Anacortes. Behind them was a 42’ Grand Banks traveling with them. We helped them at the dock, as is customary whenever another boat arrives at an SYC outstation. We’d been advised by another friend to chat them up about prawning, as they’re very experienced – so this was a good time and place to meet up with them.
Throughout the afternoon, Kap worked on final details of getting our prawn pots ready for their first test. The plan was to wait until tomorrow – hopefully when the winds and rain die down – and then head outside of Pender Harbour with the dinghy to set them. We’ll see….
As I was in the middle of fixing dinner, two more SYC boats showed up. While I slaved over the hot cooktop, Kap went out to help them tie up lines on the dock. So much for having the place all to ourselves, but it still beats the 15+ boats that were in here on our first visit in 2007.
A Google Maps satellite view of Pender Harbour. This is taken from the Fleming Owners web site, and shows the location of Flying Colours as the red boat image.
Interestingly, the SPOT Current Location marker (marker #11 that’s visible now) puts us up on shore at the outstation. The Fleming Owners Map that plugs the SPOT GPS coordinates onto a map also shows us up on shore – wich is strange as it’s the first time I’ve found their GPS positioning to be inaccurate.
Flying Colours moored at the outstation.
The SYC clubhouse from the top of the dock ramp.
An SYC member with a talent for Native American carving created a unique identification sign for every outstation.
The inside of the SYC clubhouse.
The BBQ patio outside the clubhouse. It’s nicer than we have at home!
The setting for what could easily be an award winning photograph was right from the dock where Flying Colours is moored. It’s a neighbor’s cabin and dock next to the SYC outstation.
Our solitude ended within two hours of our arrival, when four more SYC member boats motored in. The fourth, almost hidden by the three boats on the left, is a small-ish Grand Banks (36’ or so) that’s cruising single-handedly by a young woman who is a brand new member of the SYC.