SV Gallant Fox

Poached Oysters

Poached Oysters

I never paid much attention to all the web site pundits and book authors who praised the cruising community. Having spent so much time in big cities, the concept of a "cruising community" was beyond this big-city boy. When we started sailing about 8 years ago, we met several really nice people - but - only a few. Nevertheless, up in Princess Lousia Inlet we met some really nice folks - one couple in a power boat and another in a sailboat.

Power boats were always something we avoided in Puget Sound - always leaving big wakes we had to jump - on their way to so some unknown destination - I never talked to any of them other to say hi at the dock.

We talked to sailboat people - even joined a couple of organizations. We met two sets of people - one who went off to find his dream and another couple who are still looking - but - they were the only people we ever became real friends with - the big city shuts down casual friendships - if you are not in the same little clique...

It's sort of funny though - but since we have been off cruising (sort of), we have met a lot of people - in Sidney we met Keith and Donna - Canadians - we met them in the gym and that evening we were drinking in their boat on the same dock as we were - sharing experiences, talking about sailing away - it took us two years to get to this same point of friendship with folks in Seattle - chalk it up to the big city experience (or the fact that MS and I are total assholes).... Keith and Donna were great - made us feel at home on the dock - asked us to a dock party and introduced us around. We had them over to our boat and then on another day went back to their boat. A great positive experience meeting people who have a lot in common with us. Those sorts of experiences did not happen in Seattle very often.

So - two weeks later here we are going up Princess Louisa Inlet - what a place - mountain ridges rising up 8000 feet - it's cold and remote - in April we saw three boats on the 45 mile trip - and one of them was us. Shot the rapids and tied up at the end of the dock the BC government provided.

This is not world-shaking cruising - the Pardeys would have been ashamed of us - but for us and our limited experience it was a good trip. Funny, there were folks already there at the dock to make it easy for us and take our lines. One was a sailboat guy - who had actually rowed over two days earlier from his sailboat to ours, to talk to us when we were both in Garden Bay. By the first evening in Princess Louisa Inlet we were having nice conversation about all the things boaters talk about. The next day he.....I can't really say anything more, because the BC - PC government has declared certain activities illegal throughout most of the waters south of Campbell River. Just use your imagination.

Anyway, all us on the three boats that were at Princess Louisa had a great time - we each had time to ourselves, but we also hung out drinking and talking together about things like we were all old friends - maybe there is something about being 45 miles up an inlet overshadowed by snow covered mountains and without radio contact. Anyway - Dean and Donna and Cleo the dog were all great - how do folks get so generous to strangers - I don't know - its not the big city anymore.

.

And - we met folks on a POWERBOAT - what a shock - they were kind - interested in what we were doing - helpful with route planning. Even invited us over to their boat for a drink and munchies. I am not used to being so friendly with strangers, or feeling so comfortable around all of them from the beginning. Anyway, while we were there we found out that the BC-PC government had rather suddenly declared practically the entire Strait of Georgia and its connecting inlets off limits to all shellfish harvesting. Talking to Stu and Pat - who are major fishermen - we found out that to restrict the entire area, the BC government only takes samples from one oyster farm 30 miles south of where we happened to be. If the one sample turns up with PSP toxin - they declare all places off limits. Naturally - none of the commercial oyster farms have been shut down. (I am making this up - I have no idea what is going on with the oyster farms).

Anyway - MS and I went out to an oyster flat somewhere south of Port Hardy and at some point since 2001 poached some oysters - I heard from someone who knows, that I could keep them in sea water from uncomtaminated areas for about three days and repeatedly flood-and-purge them - then I eat one and let MS see if I die....Guess that is what I will do - I really love oysters and these looked great - no sign of the red tide [as if he has Superman's microscopic powers -- MS] plus the water was very cold - and - the cease and desist order from BC-PC came out just a couple of days before we we got there, so the Evil PSP toxin could not have traveled so far or so fast,....I'm guessing....

So - here is my recipe for poached oysters...

Ignore all government warnings

Consult with folks who seem to know what is going on

Get in dinghy and drive out to the oyser beds

Knock them off with a pry bar and put them in a pot or bucket

Flush with salt water for three days (or four)

EAT ONE AND SEE IF YOUR MOUTH TINGLES.

Can you still feel your lips, fingers and toes?

Has your spouse taken out life insurance on you?

Enjoy

Ain't cruisng grand?      

Desolation Sound to Seattle...Wait, What??

Well.  It seems that we have had arranged for us (maybe) a subcontractor's manufacturing recall of our boat's windscreen.  It sounds like a fairly straightforward refit but it has impelled us to make a 200-mile detour back south to have the Fox available for inspection at some now-indeterminate time in early May.  In order to maximize the good we can get out of the detour to Seattle we have also scheduled a routine haulout, other basic boat maintenance tasks, and some administrative projects for each of us.

Upshot:  we left Prideaux Haven and ducked in to Gorge Harbour on Cortes Island in greater Desolation Sound on 11. April.  Good thing, too:  while there we had a bit of a SE gale blow through that was in the low 30s inside Gorge Harbour, and was clocked at 50-70kph at Campbell River across the Strait.  After waiting out that gale we moved south but afternoon SE breezes combined with a 2'-3' chop and an adverse tide to reduce speed by 2kph and make things rather...uncomfortable.  For three days in a row.  When we have to essentially do a boat delivery instead of official cruising.  And this, our first real wind.  O to be heading north instead of south.

In between the adverse curent and headwinds, we have ducked in to Blubber Bay on Texada Island, then shot south to Nanaimo where I type this at the fuel dock on 17. April.  From here, we're taking the express route back in to the San Juans and thence to Seattle.  Pictures?  Maybe a few soon coming.

See you in Seattle.

- m

Louisa to Desolation Soound

As lovely as Princess Louisa is, we had to move on:  a small power boat rendezvous for Easter weekend and we simply couldn't bear to have more boats in the anchorage.  Plus, no fishing was allowed there so if one had a fishing license like GB had, why bother futzing about?  There was no point any more in drinking in so much beauty.

We departed Princess Louisa 6.April, having successfully cleared Malibu Rapids a second time at high-water slack.  The Reaches were expectedly calm so it was another all-day motoring extravaganza.  We intended to anchor at 40 miles distant at the Harmony Islands, but wound up anchoring a bit further out in Maude Bay, a wee cove that's a part of the greater Thunder Bay at the mouth of Jervis Inlet.  Maude Bay was a very nice anchorage.  Lots of waterfowl at the height of the mating season (i.e., lots of action if you know what I mean); there was even an immature bald eagle perched on a large driftwood log calling to his parents.  The only negative was...the onshore residents' habit of burning all their winter's detritus, all at once, everywhere.  Dude, they smoked up all 30 miles of Jervis Inlet plus all 30 miles of Malaspina Strait with the smoke from 30 debris piles.  Like, feh.  But how else does one so isolated get rid of a winter's accumulation of trash?

Given the calm air we chose to motor ever northward the next morning along the mainland coast to see a bit of Desolation Sound, another prime BC cruising ground.  April is still very cold and early so we did not expect to have much company, and indeed that was the case.  We drove northward along Malaspina Strait and then east and then immediately south around Sarah Point past aquacultures aplenty to Grace Harbour, a sheltered bay bisected into two smaller bays.  The guidebooks tell us that in the summer Grace Harbour is full of boats.  April, however, is a different story:  we had the whole area to ourselves, so that we could take our half out of the middle of the inner bay's glassy water without stern-tying.  Nice.  And quiet.  This cruising lifestyle is quite conducive to restful slumber in proper weather conditions, despite the rather...frosty mornings.  (Nothing like seeing yer breath when you greet the dawn, and your mate.)

Moving on, we aimed for another summertime cruising mecca:  Prideaux Haven, famed in song and story.  Muriel was here often and wrote about it.*  In NW waters one has to avoid many obstacles including logs and a multitude of rocks at the entrances to otherwise very protected anchorages - and getting to Prideaux was no exception. Once there, I tried to convince GB to go ashore to see if we could find Mike the Logger's old place, or the ruins of Phil Levine's cabin over Laura Cove way -- but he would have none of it and preferred exploring the shoreline, islets and oyster beds by dinghy.  Such a pretty place, even in the cold early season.  The last night we were there (11. April) the clouds parted and we saw ever so many stars.  It was as close to wilderness as we used to get backpacking.  And we had it all to ourselves.  A couple boats came in and anchored in their own private nooks, but by then we had resolved to leave the next morning so it was as if we were still alone with the water and the trees.  Here's how poetic I can wax in such a place:

"Prideaux Haven Evening.  April 9, 2007.  5:00pm.  Low tide. Early spring, after rain showers.

One other sailboat just arrived; they very considerately anchored away from us, around the point over in Melanie Cove. Like us, they are keeping to themselves this evening. Otherwise we are the only boat here in what is ordinarily a very crowded summer anchorage, and we are grateful for the gift of solitude. This evening there is no sound of human presence. To the northeast, up along Homfray Channel, the mountain peaks are dusted with new snow on top of old snow pack, and are intermittently losing their heads in light rain clouds. Occasional evening sun breaks reveal how the deep the green is of the forests that run straight down to the water’s edge. I see two waterfalls on one of the bluffs a few miles away, plunging a thousand feet or so off the mountain and down to the sea. All the rock faces are steep here - above, and below, the water. After a thin edge of shallows the granite walls plunge straight down past one’s ability to see. Here, the waters very quickly become dark and deep. In the protected coves they are also silent.

Standing on deck as rain clouds overtake the fading sun, I hear a soft “pssssht,” “pssssht,” “pssssht.” Turning, I see a lone harbor seal a few yards away, floating on the cove’s surface and inspecting me and the Fox. A couple of seagulls argue over a starfish one has caught. One bald eagle perches in a high deadhead on a nearby islet, then flies away, whistling. From Melanie Cove, I hear the sound of a small stream as winter runoff meets the salt water of the cove. The boat is at rest, the weather has paused, and Desolation Sound is there to be seen. I wonder whether Mike the logger had the opportunity, some 75 years ago, to look up from his work at his cabin and apple orchard at the head of Melanie Cove, and enjoy a time like this.

I hope so."

- m

* "The Curve of Time" - again.  Read it or I'll keep mentioning it, I swear.

Princess Louisa Inlet

Princess Louisa Inlet has long been a favored destination for many boaters in the PacNW.  In the 1930s, many decades before it was a marine park, Muriel Wylie Blanchet visited frequently with her dog and 5 kids on her 25-foot motor boat*.  According to some people Princess Louisa remains the holy grail of the world's cruising grounds.  I cannot ignore such high recommendations.  My life in the PacNW just would not be complete until I saw it for myself - and I first set foot on a sailboat here in 1997, so I was late.  To get there now, we had to get the Fox from Garden Bay in Pender Harbour, and move it 45 miles (or so) north through Agamemnon Channel, continuing north and east and back again through Prince of Wales Reach, turning right into Princess Royal Reach, then left up along Queen's Reach, and finally turning right into Princess Louisa itself.

These reaches, each 5 to 10 miles long, were all cut by glaciers.  The canyons are steep granite walls with thin forests holding on for dear life.  Snowmelt cascades thousands of feet to the salt water below.  Except for tiny gravelly shelves at the mouths of streams, there is essentially no shoreline in these reaches for the recreational boater; i.e., us, i.e., not much opportunity to stop for any reason unless it is an emergency.  Occasionally, if you know the shape to look for on the canyon face, you can see landslides, old and new.  You can also see the last winter's blowdowns.  The canyons continue to drop steeply under the sea, and they go deep.  There's a portion of Prince of Wales Reach that is 658 meters deep.  Wonder what's down there.

One other thing complicates boat travel in glacial fjords, aside from the lack of a good place to stop and the potential landslide that can sink a boat, at anchor or afloat.  Sometimes these fjords were originally hanging glaciers, that now being flooded with sea water have very...shallow...and complicated...entrances.  Difficulty:  the entrance to Princess Louisa is such a place, called Malibu Rapids.  Let's hear what the Sailing Directions have to say:

"Malibu Rapids flows through a narrow gorge.  It is suitable for small vessels and should be negotiated at or near slack water.  Malibu Islet and several small islets lie in the south entrance....Tidal streams in Malibu Rapids attain 9kn on the flood and ebb on large tides...."

Let's review:  Narrow.  With currents exceeding the Fox's engine capacity.  And rocky.  With currents potentially forcing the Fox onto the rocks.  Other guides describe Malibu Rapids as so narrow and winding that the Fox has to execute an S-shaped turn to stay mid-channel, and it's a blind one, so the Fox best hail any possible oncoming traffic on VHF 16 before starting in.  Did I mention there are also spectators?  Oh, yeah - there are some buildings in the middle of the S-turn that the guides say are now part of a Christian youth camp**, and any boat transiting Malibu has to deal with one or more people holding coffee cups, watching the show***.

Problem:  I've never shot rapids before in the Fox.  Anywhere.  Ever.  Plus, I'm an amateur cruiser.  And the unknown makes me fret.  And I have all my eggs in this 40-foot fiberglass basket, so I want to keep it intact.  Rapids:  Do Not Want.

Well.  My desire to see Louisa outweighed my trepidation about shooting rapids.  But by damn the Fox was gonna be there before slack the day we left.  I studied the charts and the tide tables, and saw when one of the boats anchored with us in Garden Bay left for Louisa the day before.  By all my calculations, to get to afternoon slack at Malibu the Fox had to leave Garden Bay at 0630, 7.25 hours before slack.

We left at 0625 with frost on the deck.  There was barely light to see, and the navigator was already tense.

So tense, that I had plotted time markers on the charts for every 6 miles.  Just to be sure.  OK, so I'm Adrian Monk.  And Gary suffers.  Sue me.

We made every one of my time markers with several minutes to spare.  GB never complained.  By the time we reached Malibu Rapids we were 30 minutes before slack.  Sweet.  A 42-foot power boat, "Pegasus,' had been making steady gains on us all day up the reaches from the Garden Bay anchorage, caught up to us timely, and kindly offered to guide us through Malibu Rapids, having been through many times before.  However, once in the S-turn, just a half hour before slack, Pegasus told us the current was still running 3 knots against us, so with our much-deeper keel and rudder we demurred.  (Thank you, Stu.)  We killed time by sightseeing a bit further up Queen's Reach.  We then hit Malibu precisely at slack, and successfully negotiated it, although the onshore spectator believed we were waaaayyy too far to the right of center channel and totally thought we were going to irresversibly crash.  He hadn't factored in the Fox's innate Shoal Sense.  Which overcomes the effects of Cruiser Noob.

I had just successfully shot my first set of rapids.  Life is good.

Another five miles in extremely calm air and water, and we reached the goal:  the head of Princess Louisa Inlet and the dock at the foot of Chatterbox Falls.  We were the third of only three boats in there this early-season time of year:  the others being the motor boat Pegasus, and the 1980 Pearson 424 ketch Talisman.  Good people, good boat dog, good times.  If in your travels you ever encounter either of these boats, please do introduce yourself and bring them a bottle of wine.  You will not be disappointed with the company.

Princess Louisa, like all these glacial fjords, fools the eye.  It feels very much like somehow being able to drive your boat into a pristine mountain lake.  But, your perspective is skewed; all you see is "mountain" and "lake."  Let's compare a few pictures to retain perspective.  Here's a typical cheesy pic of snow-capped-mountains-and-water:

Next up, here's a pic with the 42-foot Pegasus shown offf Patrick Point, where Princess Royal Reach makes the turn into Queen's Reach.  Look for the little white dot to just the left of the point of land on the right of the pic.  That's Pegasus, a 3-story motor palace that regularly travels between Anacortes and Alaska.  Stu and Pat have a wet bar in there, for God's sake.  This is not an insignificant craft.

Finally, here's a pic of the dock below Chatterbox Falls.  See that little sailboat on the outside of the dock?  That's the Fox with its 54-foot mast.  Chatterbox Falls is 120 feet high.  The canyon rim rises 5000 to 8000 feet above the water, and the deepest below-water point is 179 meters below the water's surface.  In this place, there is no Internet.  Radio does not work.  Satellite cannot compete with the narrow sky view.  The urbanized creature can start to feelin' lonely real fast.

One could get awestruck if one pondered this overmuch.

- m

* ...and wrote about it in "The Curve of Time."  You'd be delighted to read it.

** We believe it got the name "Malibu" Rapids, because way back in the day Princess Louisa was quite the getaway for Hollywood A-listers like John Wayne and maybe Richard Boone.

*** I'd rather have John Wayne and Richard Boone watch me shoot the rapids while holding martinis.

Gulf Islands and BC's Sunshine Coast

Unencumbered by any wind whatsoever, we circumnavigated Saltspring Island and on 29. March anchored in Montague Harbour at Galiano Island, one of our favorite places in the Gulf Islands.  Sometimes when moving through the Gulf Islands one sees the coolest boats, like this tall old girl headed south in Trincomali Channel: 

The weather was nice, but it was cold (39F on deck, 49F in the cabin every morning) and except for one cormorant occupying each of about 36 mooring buoys, we had the whole anchorage to ourselves (in summer I have counted 75 boats and more, just in the anchorage and mooring field).  We did the typical dinghy exploration of the surrounding islets and onshore, and had a fine time, like on Montague's north-facing shell beach: 

However, our attempted departure of the Gulf Islands into the Strait of Georgia at Porlier Pass on 31. March was thwarted by our hour-and-a-half tardiness in getting underway - combined with a foul tide, 25kph of wind on the nose, and a 3-4 foot chop in Trincomali Channel.  Under the circumstances it seemed unwise to proceed through Porlier Pass so long after slack, and alternative anchorages presented more of a detour than we wanted, so we scooted back to Montague for one more night.  The champagne was by then perfectly chilled.  Oh, the humanity.

We two fools transited Porlier at slack on 1. April without incident, which is fine by me - I tend to dislike narrow places with lots of rocks and big currents.  While I fretted at the helm, GB took a pic of one of his favorite ATONs* on Virago Point in Porlier Pass:

Once again, we were forced to deal with the common no-wind conditions in these BC islands, so we decided that if motoring was our only option, we'd motor as far as we could.  Destination:  Garden Bay in Pender Harbour, northeaserly across the Strait of Georgia and about 59-60 miles distant.  Strategically, Pender Harbour is a jumping-off point for boats traveling the 45-48 miles to Princess Louisa Inlet, and that is certainly what we intended to do.  We found the only available wind about 6 miles from Pender Harbour -- a 15kph headwind ushering in a little squall o' sleet and 1/2-mile visibility.  Ever the gentleman, GB took the helm and got his face froze while I checked the charts and directed him from under the comparative warmth and shelter of the dodger.  Sometimes it really pays to be navigator.

We tucked into the Garden Bay anchorage in front of the marine park, coincidentally near two other boats we would soon meet again...

- m

* "Aids To Navigation" in Fox-speak

Where Does a Boat Go to Die?

When we left Sidney, we took the advice of a friend and a couple of publications and checked out Maple Bay, just north and west of Sansum Narrows.  On the chart it looked like a fine place to be sheltered from practically all weather.  Alas.

Maple Bay has a lot of McMansions in the process of construction on shore, which means lots of chain saws cutting down the trees and backhoes fitted with jackhammers breaking up the limestone and granite for more septic tanks.  Oy.  And vey.  Plus, the anchorage is a bit...ermmm....full of "permanently anchored" vessels - either those who have liveaboards, or those who have been abandoned.  In Maple Bay's situation, most of the available anchorage is occupied with large derelict formerly-commercial type boats that with the use of generators, Skil-Saws and belt sanders are being converted to more domestic, full-time liveaboard use; and boats that given the amount of moss on their topsides have not been visited for more than 2 years.  The remainder of the available anchorage has been taken over by people who have placed "private" mooring buoys on the public waterway, reserving 24/7/365 their use for the few times of year they visit their vacation homes during the nice season. 

Given the construction noise both onshore and afloat the Fox diverted westerly to Burgoyne Bay, shown on the charts to be far more capacious.  Difficulty:  there is very little anchorage that is at less than a 30-foot depth.  Further difficulty:  much of the available depths for anchoring are occupied by long-term vessels, including an occupied houseboat with three floats tied to it in various stages of sinking; another small occupied houseboat near the shore where the public dock and parking lot are; and several floating objects of various sizes including unoccupied boats less than 25 feet long that can be easily beached or trailered but are permanently anchored in prime anchoring depths.  It appears that the Burgoyne "residents" use the public dock and parking lot to dispose of their garbage and store their land vehicles, and use the public anchorage to store their boats.  For free.  And they give big-time stink-eye to any strangers like the Fox that come into their 'hood.

This is a serious dilemma.  The waters have traditionally remained free to whoever is able to use them and take them - see, e.g., railroad easements, mining grants and grazing leases.  So in one sense it's right and proper to take a public waterway, pay no money, and defend it aggressively with a "private" buoy or a permanently anchored boat.  However, any watery depths below the lowest of the low tide line have been traditionally considered public land, available to all equally, like national forests, state (or provincial) parks, and public roads.  When was the last time you saw soemone allowed to live long term in a broken-down motor home in a city park?  On the other hand, it is almost impossible to dispose of a boat that has outlived its desirable or useful life and has no owner willing to take economic responsibility for it.  There is no dump that will accept an abandoned boat, no government authority that has the budget to remove it.  Generally, in these parts, such boats stay where they are until they sink.  And even then, a government entity won't pay for so much as a $40 float to mark the wreck until someone runs aground on it.  (See again, Maple Bay.)

Unfortunately, certain anchorages, like Maple Bay, Burgoyne Bay, and Olga and Mats Mats in Washington State, have been so completely occupied by "private" buoys and/or derelict and neglected boats that the rest of the public (transient boats like the Fox) are excluded.  And we on the Fox want a place to drop the hook at happy hour and start the martinis, dammit.

When does "local color" become an eyesore and a public health hazard?  Nobody wants derelict boats leaking raw sewage and oil into the water, or the occupant exploiting public parking lots, water and garbage facilities.  People who use public waterfront parks shouldn't have to be shut out because the parking lots are full of the cars of those who anchor their boats in the water.  Local governments should not be impelled to make room in a severely limited budget for water treatment, garbage disposal and sewage treatment for people who are poaching on public waterways.  On the other hand, where do poor people go?  Living aboard a boat - especially an old, broken-down one - in a Northwest winter is bloody inconvenient (and that's when the weather is good).

Does a community necessarily want to have only pretty, well-kept, high-end boats in an anchorage?  Doesn't that present the same eyesore that a bunch of McMansions do onshore?  Does eliminating marinas for the sake of waterfront condos exacerbate the problem (Florida boaters sure think it does)?  Doesn't allowing only 72 hours of continuous moorage fail to consider boaters who have temporary but serious mechanical problems, or medical emergencies?  Where do we all go?  Especially the Sterling Hayden wannabes?

m

What Passes for Logs

"Sailing Logs"?  Not much to log, when one cruises the San Juan and Gulf Islands, and the southern/central Strait of Georgia, other than "no wind today...foul current turning to fair as day progressed...motored 7 hours...anchored in sticky mud in 30 feet...13-foot tidal change..." and so on and etc.  As a boat travels further north, "dodged rocks at entrance to cove" is a typical added entry.  In sum, it's pretty good cruising up here as long as you're OK with not using your sails very often.  Example:  the Fox, 5 years old, has traveled over 3700 miles, and now has 642.7 hours on the engine.  Is it a sailboat with an auxiliary engine?  Or a motor boat with auxiliary sails?  And why do long term cruisers of the Pacific NW all end up with Nordic tugs?

OK; let's back up a bit --

We had a fine time before we left Sidney on March 28.  We had spent two winter months there just like we had imagined years ago during our first winter trip to Sidney.  We were able to accomplish many of the boat projects we had not completed while still in Seattle; and we had a lot of fun besides despite the typical PacNW cold, dark rainy weather.  We rode the bus 3x/wk to the Panorama Recreation Centre to enjoy their weight room and pool; and promptly offset any gains we may have made by repeatedly visiting the 2 bakeries, 2 liquor stores, movie theatre, and multiple fine restaurants located within a 1/2 mile walk of the Port of Sidney Marina (suck it, Shilshole and your dearth of amenties).  Did I mention there are Chocolates of Distinction at Lunn's Bakery?  You have to drink the cherry cordial like a cherry schapps shot.  Awesome.

We even had a little excusion to Victoria.  Winter discount rates at the Empress Hotel (excuse me; "The Fairmont Empress") and certain downtown restaurants make one forget how much coin one is actually blowing.  Here's how we did it:  Number 70B bus (el expresso de double decker) from Sidney to one block behind the Empress.  Check in at Empress.  Go to favorite sushi restaurant in Victoria.  Ignore snow flurries.  Walk to discount dinner at way-hip restaurant, congratulate selves on fine dining choices.  Walk back to Empress, passing by dozen teenage runaways bedding down in alcove.  Feel bad for them because it is very cold and snowing (remember in "The Lost Boys" when the mom gave cash to the dumpster-diving kids?).  Then observe kids' shoes, haircuts, tattoos and body piercing.  Contemplate how much panhandling pays these days.  Walk on.  Still feel bad.

Victoria was educational in other ways.  For example, we learned potential money-making opportunities from the entrepeneurs on other boats in Victoria's Inner Harbour. 

   

Other things learned in Victoria:  for breakfast and lunch, do not go anywhere other than The Re-Bar.  Just don't.  I would suggest the Southwestern poached eggs with a wheatgrass chaser - but that's just me.

Sidney is much lower-key than urban Victoria, though their public buildings aren't as fancy as Victoria's:

 

 

 

 

However, Sidney has public art in easily accessible places, like this one outside a local bookstore.  The little old lady is boning up on Nigel Calder's diesel maintenance manual, and the old phart is trying to deal with current events: 

Bottom line:  if you can, spend some time in Sidney.  You will have a lot of fun.  But go soon; like everywhere else, the general economy and the million-dollar waterfront condo developments are displacing everything else.  Including nautical bookstores like the Compass Rose.  RIP.

Fast Travels

We left Princess Louisa Inlet on 4/6/2007 heading South. Anchored in Thunder Bay - a 44.5 mile run. No wind. We departed TB on Sat morning - sky overcast, still no wind, but a gale warning 75 miles to the north. Destination LUND - another Canadian let down - no room at the Inn. Diverted to Desolation Sound. Anchored in Grace Harbor after a 40 mile run. We are the only boat here. A major gale is expected tonight, but we are well secured. We are down to 4 bottles of champagne, 4 liters of red wine, and 2 liters of gin - we are set for the week....