Day 2: Off We Go Into The …

World’s worst sleep. World’s worst pillow. The Shearwater had the world’s best pillow, God’s gift to pillows it was… and we are being punished for worshipping a false pillow god.

So I got up when I heard stirring in the salon. C headed out for a shower and I had coffee. No one had boiled any hot water for me. Just saying. When she got back I also headed up to the showers. The day had begun.

Eventually L crawled out and we were ready to rock and roll. We puttered around and then decided to go out and try the sails before R Shack was ready to go. I forgot to check the prevailing wind and we left C on the dock with the midship line. Literally. I told we would swing around and catch her on the other side of the docks. Oops.

The 40′ is a bit more of a pig than Shearwater was. The wind blows her around and I had to try twice to get her to the dock to pick up C. But in the end we got ‘er done. Down the channel we motored. Passing the mooring buoys we saw R Shack Island was still moored up and moments later I got a text saying they were about 20 minutes behind schedule. We headed off towards Gabriola to see if we could sail this thing.

Turns out we could. Badly. Well not that badly, but badly enough to gently bruise my easily bruised ego. We got a couple of tacks in but the sidecars were way too forward and the jib kept getting caught in the shrouds. After C moved them aft, it was a bit easier.

Then the main jammed when we were trying to furl it. This involved trying to sail into the wind (toward the rocks) and sending crew forward to decipher the various lines, blocks, gears and pulleys. Eventually we figured out the furling line had jumped a gear in the windi-up-thingee. A bit of brute force and we fixed that right up.

We also fought with the jib roller furler as the furling line runs through a lot of blocks and, unlike the Shearwater, is impossible to furl by hand. But… live and learn.

We got everything settled down just as R Shack emerged from the harbor so we let them pass us and settled in for a nice run across the strait. The winds were SE at … oh ya, this boat has no wind speed gauge. Major annoying as it takes a whole new way of looking at making decisions.

We motored for 15 or 20 minutes until we were past the last islets and then raised the sails and headed for Secret Cove. Actually we were headed more for Sechelt but that’s sailing for you.

We got in a couple of hours but eventually we weren’t doing better than 2.1 knots and I pulled the plug and fired up the motor. R Shack was miles ahead with their Code zero sail, which really shines in a beam reach. We cut the corner and met up with them again close to Merry Island.

A fairly quick transit up Welcome Passage and we fell back to let R Shack lead the way into the south arm of Secret Cove where we were going to anchor.

6h35m 29.3nm

Once on the hook, everyone breathed a collective sigh and we started to relax. Dave rowed over with a few beers to share so we kicked back and gossiped for a bit before supper. Tomorrow is going to be Pender Harbour as R Shack needs to pick some stuff up and we might as well have a nice short day after today.

Eventually Dave needed to go home and we had a marinating flat chicken screaming for the BBQ. Unfortunately the BBQ wasn’t cooperating. After a bunch of fussing C abandoned the poor thing and headed for the preheated oven. Why was the oven preheated? I think it was because C never intended to use the BBQ in the first place and deliberately sabotaged it. Why would she do that? Because she wasn’t ravenous and wanted to save the best meal of the trip for when she was especially hungry.

But fate intervened! The frypan-seared, oven-roasted chicken was beyond fabulous. And in the end even the sneaky, devious mind of El Diablo Carmeno could not keep a good Sunday chicken down.

Meanwhile I fiddled with the BBQ wasting gas and concluded that either the bottle must be low or we just needed more patience as eventually the stubborn thing started to heat up. Eventually as in after 15 minutes. Live and learn.

Dinner was delish but I was bagged. The bad sleep caught up with me and I begged to be allowed to go to bed at 8:30. But the wicked sisters denied me and I was forced to lie on the bench and ‘participate’ in chitchat. At least my feet were warm 😉

Somewhere around 9:30 they finally relented and I shuffled off to bed. Carmen, tired of my incessant whining and desirous of a less groggy Bruce on the morrow, offered up one of her pillows as an offering. I snatched it up.

It was so good.

It was so good I actually dragged my half-asleep ass out of bed again to thank her. It was so good. I am never gonna f*ck with the pillow gods again.