Up. Up. Cause the tide’s going out!

I got up and joined about half the crew on deck. A few minutes of chatting and some coffee and then we cast off. The wharfinger made it down for his pound of flesh five minutes before we were ready so we had to pay $40 or so for the privilege of tying up to their dock for 8 hours or so.

After that it was motor, motor, motor. A few hours later the sun started to break through and a bunch of people hit the fore deck to bask for a while. Tim fired up the BBQ and made ready to steam the poor oysters we had been hauling around in a bucket.

To date I have not been a fan of the cooked oyster although I like them fine raw. But BBQ with a bit of lemon is pretty darn good. Leslie and I both had a couple and made appropriate lip smacking noises.

Slowly but surely the winds built and eventually we were sailing on a broad reach, gybing back and forth across the Strait.

A little later in the day a sail appeared. Then another. And another. And another. It seems the Swiftsure Race was on and we had the best seats in the house. There must have been a hundred boats spread out over miles. And through the middle of all that the HMCS Saskatoon came thundering into the waves heading back out on some mission or another.

Eventually the boats faded into the distance and the winds died so we motor sailed for a bit, through Race Passage and past one of the oldest lighthouses in Canada. After we turned towards Victoria the winds rose again so we unfurled the jib, killed the motor and Leslie sailed the rest of the way in.

Her entry into the Harbour was complicated by a cruise ship coming in and the other cruise ship leaving dock. And there was a third cruise ship hanging off to come in next. Exciting stuff. Eventually L swung back into the wind and we dropped our sails. Then it was a slow motor into the Victoria Inner Harbour.

The Causeway (right in front of the Empress) was completely empty but no one was answering the radio or the phone. As we approached the empty docks however we were waved over to Ships Point and informed the empty docks were reserved for racers. So we circled around and slowly made our way to Wharf Street. It was jammed but many boats had their fenders out so we surmised that rafting was de rigeur.

Leslie slowly wound her way through the complex maze of really expensive boats without a bead of sweat so much as threatening to pop out, then started a turn at the dead end. That’s when we decided to just pick a boat and raft. So Leslie slowly reversed the boat and gently brought us alongside another boat that looked like it was here for the duration. And we tied up.

Wharf Street is our second choice for a winter berth so it was nice to have a look. The washrooms and showers are a short walk away and are housed with a couple of washing machines and dryers. We grabbed a long-awaited shower and hung out.

Dinner was chicken and veggies and red wine. Then it was time for bed.

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