One of Those Days, or Two

Returning to the boat always comes as a surprise, no matter how many weeks we’ve had to prepare for it. This time, Heron lost shore power during our absence. Steve Jackman, dockmaster extraordinaire at Port McNeill’s North Island Marina, and his wife Jessica, heroically rescued all our chilled provisions in time – including six-weeks-worth of frozen food – hauling about 50 pounds of wrapped meats off the boat to their own deep freeze. 

We learned from Steve upon our return that an eagle had landed on a transformer -- not only frying himself but knocking out power to the entire dock, making an exciting week for both Steve and the ill-fated eagle.  Of course every other boat’s power cycled right back on.  Every other boat, that is, except Heron.  Once her power was tripped, Mighty Heron, quirky British dame that she is, didn't feel like cooperating. 

Fortunately, engineer Paul LaRussa, who often troubleshoots Heron’s tricky systems in Seattle happened to be on Vancouver Island working on another boat.  He drove up from Campbell River, identified the problem within 15 minutes (a pair of hidden breakers that only a Moody’s makers would put behind the instrument panel), and hit the road. 

Welcome Home.

Returning to the dock a week after all this excitement, we repacked all the frozen provisions and now extremely ripe month-old cheeses in the fridge, then hauled our sheets and towels up to the Laundromat.  Since it was “BC Day” in British Columbia, pretty much everything in Port McNeill was closed – the diner, the café, the liquor store.  Thankfully the market and pub were open.  We restocked our fresh produce and collected enough Loonies for the dryers.

But there were more surprises!

At the end of our chilly motor across Queen Charlotte Strait, the swells picked up and we hit a massive side swell just as we were tucking into the night’s planned anchorage, one of our favorites:  Skull Cove.  The swell sent everything in the cabin that wasn’t secured sailing across the main salon – including the big storage bin under the settee.  It came flying out, exploded completely off its hinges, and landed squarely in the middle of the floor.  Hmmm...

After anchoring we unpacked everything out of the drawer (most of our pantry), removed the screws from the drawer, disassembled it, screwed it back together (going so far as to glue the screws in this time), and slid it back in.  No dice.  The impact of a single monster side-swell had busted the tracks.

Captain Jeff gets out the tool kit...

Big Drawer, No More. Luckily, the Moody 54 has many secret holds and compartments and we weren’t expecting any guests for this remote and rainy part of the trip.  We squirreled away all our nuts, dried fruits, cookies, and boxes of crackers in the forward stateroom’s closet shelves, turning it into a walk-in kitchen pantry.

Settling into a beautiful evening at Skull Cove, we realized we were in an extraordinarily wild and beautiful place, and that it was all worth it.  It turned out to be a perfectly still, high-tide evening punctuated by a resounding chorus of birds going bonkers  - including many breeding pairs of loons so loud they sounded like dogs barking on the water.  We sat in the cockpit, incredulous, listening to the night.

. 

James and Laura Aboard!

James and Laura helped us move Heron from Cortes Island to Port McNeill in late July.  It was hot and sunny when they landed in at Cortes...

But alas, big B.C. rains set in the next day.  James and Laura proved to be not only brave but game, as the (much-needed) rain continued for the NEXT TWO DAYS straight...

We were rewarded in the end, however, by one of the most memorable evenings any of us have ever spent aboard Heron.  After pounding our way up Johnstone Strait, we motored into the Broughton Islands, which in the early evening light were all misty and silvered.  Then Laura said, "Is that a whale?"

And sure enough, it was...

Then we all witnessed a remarkable thing: a group of Humpbacks 'bubble-net feeding,' working in tandem to drive a school of herring together before scooping them up in a big coordinated whale-feast, so to speak.  We don't have pics of the whales circling round then rising up out of the water, unfortunately.  But the water, boiling with birds and bald eagles swooping in for the banquet looked magical.  Like this...

After a cozy dinner and evening spent anchored in Spout Cove, we woke the next morning to bluebird skies. James and Laura took the helm while Jeff worked on the Macerator (and Sam texted his encouragement from NYC:  "it's not a Heron trip w/out a Macerator adventure").  We tied up in Port McNeill just in time for the float plane ride home.

Obstacles to Departure

Day One: We're  in a slight state of shock that we’ve managed to pull it together and get ourselves here.  It’s always a push, never seems to get easier – and by all rational measures – is clearly insane, the lengths involved in getting Heron ready for yet another summer cruising season.  Nonetheless, once the exhaustion wears off and we wake up to the realization that we not only get to be out on the water again in this spectacular part of the world but settling into “Heron Time,” there’s no question.  It’s worth it!  

All the last-minute stresses faded away as we motored through the San Juan Islands  admiring Heron’s Winter 2015 Improvement Projects:

~Finally after years of shower-rationing, a Spectra 340Z Water Maker! (More later on how this wondrous device works through reverse-osmosis to turn saltwater into drinking water and most amazing, long hot showers!)

~We pitched our quirky old British SMEV stove/oven for a sleek Force 10 (which doesn’t require a fire-stick to start, has an oven which actually works).

~Replaced original windlass with a new Lewmar Windlass.

~Dissembled and serviced the six Main Winches.  

~Rebuilt Start Motor.

~Upgraded to a 9.5’ aluminum-bottom AB Dinghy with an 8H Yamaha outboard (from a dinky inflatable Zodiac with a 5H Honda), thanks to the Captain’s Best Friends on his 60^th Birthday.
 

~Switched out Main Salon lights to LED (Jury still out on these... too bright)

~Replaced old plastic lifelines with stainless.

~Upgraded GARMIN AIS transmitter.

~Installed emergency EPIRB beacon. (Hope we don't need this, ever.)

All paled in comparison, however, to One Day's Wild Things Count:  one orca, three dolphins, one juvenile raccoon, one Bald eagle, one pigeon guillemot, and small flock of marbled murrelets, diving.

Our favorite Marbled Murrelet

                  

                 

Sixth Season Afloat

Ahoy sailing friends...   Heron Adventures here, headed north for our sixth season afloat! 

This summer’s goal: The Queen Charlotte Islands, now officially named Haida Gwaii.

The plan: We're going to stage this trip, moving Heron to the northern tip of Vancouver island during the first stage (and leaving it in Port McNeill), then flying back in early August to rejoin the boat and continue north to Hecate Strait. There we'll wait (but hopefully not too long!), for a good weather-window in which to make the 55-mile crossing to the Queen Charlottes.

Why the Queen Charlottes? We've dreamed for years of visiting Haida Gwaii’s remarkable abandoned Haida village sites – and in particular, Ninstints, finally recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2010.  Ninstints has the world’s greatest collection of Haida heraldic and mortuary poles, many still standing just steps from the  beach in a state of arrested decay. 

The Queen Charlottes, an archipelago of about 150 islands 60 miles off the mainland coast, are known for their remoteness and wild, rugged shores. (We hope we’re not too late in the season for the Hecate Strait crossing.) Sometimes called “the Galapagos of Canada,” the islands have one of the Pacific Coast’s finest remaining old-growth rain forests, as well as some of the highest density of sea lions, sea birds, eagles and falcons! Scientists believe that portions of the islands escaped glaciation during the last ice age, providing refuge for all this rare flora and fauna. 

        A friend gave us this cool "Haida Gwaii Salt" a few years back...                                          

And finally, we both loved John Vaillant's fascinating book, "The Golden Spruce."

If you haven't read it, we highly recommend! Based on true story: in 1997, a "British Columbia timber scout named Grant Hadwin committed an act of shocking violence - he destroyed the legendary Golden Spruce of the Queen Charlotte Islands. With its rich colors, towering height and luminous needles, the tree was a scientific marvel, beloved by the local Haida people who believed it sacred."

My turn on watch, more to come!

Kim 

 

NORPAC Race Days

“You F-ing Sea Cow!!!

This (and many other unprintable things), is what Skipper Jeff yells during tense moments at our beloved boat – named “Heron” – because she’s a big girl, after all, hefty and beamy.  While she’s a lovely cruising cutter, 52,000 pounds of teak (before carrying water and fuel, and a dinghy, and two sea kayaks, and two folding camp chairs, plus five weeks of provisions and the first-mate’s herb garden), a sleek racing rig she is NOT. 

So gorgeous it's worth it!!!

This we learned over four days of racing in Barkley Sound’s Broken Group Islands – a spectacular way to see this part of B.C.'s Pacific Rim National Park -- if your fingernails can handle the stress.

Short-tacking Heron is a little like trying to race a Cadillac around a dirt-bike course.  On Race Day 2, the two of us actually tack Heron (by now feeling more like a schooner), TWENTY TWO TIMES!  

Our reward for all this hard work?  We do manage to find her sweet spot on several terrific long reaches (when the soft breeze fills in with 18-23 knots). On Race Day 3, we hit 10 knots boat speed, have a great ride with Heron barreling along like a runaway freight train, and even roll over a few of the more agile boats. “Now we’re shakin’ and bakin’!” Skipper Jeff hollers as we blow by, cheering up considerably. 

Skipper J, Shakin' and Bakin'

We place 3^rd in our class, a miracle, and in four days of racing learn a ton.  Mostly, what a privilege to be able to explore this part of the world in the company of such accomplished sailors – while making some great new friends!

Unbelievable! Third Place Caps!!

And post-race gold...

NORPAC 2014

Rafting up at the charming and funky Port Alberni Yacht Club, we meet the rest of the fleet; everyone seems pretty chill.  There will be four days of racing, the first day’s course is mapped out:  start near Adamson ROCK, round ROCKY Folger Island to starboard; round Swale ROCK, proceed to the easternmost island of the Alma Russell Islands, (all ROCKS), finish.  Course length:  13.5 miles.

Barkley Sound...

Charting the first day's course.

This should be interesting.  With Heron’s Furler stuck in the shop all spring, we’ve had only one sail raised so far this season. (That would be the jib, yesterday, for approx 10 minutes.)  Also, we have no crew to speak of – just the two of us -- manning all 54 feet.

I notice with alarm once we receive our fleet books that our new friends might act chill but they’re actually way-proficient sailors: Steve on Peregrine has Swiftsure, Oregon Offshore, Van Isle 360, and part of Transpac 2011 under his belt.  Innomorata, a Peterson 40, is an old racing warhorse, manned by “old sailors who act badly, and their rock star wives.” And then there are Neil and Susan, on a lovely Hinckley (heavy, we note hopefully).  Neil is a former member of the USNA sailing team – yikes! Thankfully the race doesn’t start ‘til noon, so we can all sleep in. 

Typical Mark:  killer rocks, relaxed audience.

Juan de Fuca Strait to Barkley Sound

Well… so much for spectacular weather! After our two-day transit up and around the south coast we can see why Sir Frances Drake had this to say about Vancouver Island in 1579:

“from whose high and snow-covered mountains the north and north-west winds send abroad their frozen nimphes to the infecting of the whole air… in the middest of their summer, the snow hardly departeth from these hills at all; hence come those thicke mists and most stinking fogges.”

 Thicke mists, stinking fogges

Global warming nothwithstanding, we can attest that more than 400 years later those same stinking fogges are still hanging around.  We’ve had thicke mists and stinking fogges most mornings, exacerbated by this year’s warmer inland temps.

After a 3:30 AM DEPARTURE we made our long run up to Barkley Sound. This was a tricky passage:  steep chop, lumpy seas, and thick fog all the way – with less than a quarter mile visibility.  But as soon as we turned into Barkley Sound – presto! – the fog burned off, and we raised the jib for a short sail into the clear blue sound backed by towering peaks.

Team Heron nearing entrance to Strait of Juan de Fuca. Chilly!

“Look at these bad-ass rocks!” Skipper Jeff, said, eyeing Barkley Sound’s hundreds of rocky islands and reefs.  Little did we know these would be our course marks in the next days’ NORPAC race series, eek.

Sailing into Barkley Sound...

Rafting up, Alberni Yacht Club...