A summer that tested my limits

It’s early morning, near 0630, and the flickering flame in the window of our Dickinson heater is slowly easing the damp chill. A mug of tea sits steaming beside my laptop and soft rain patters on the butterfly hatch.

Sounds like Christmas on BC’s central coast. But no, it’s the middle of July, and I’m thinking never have I ever had the diesel heater burning morning after morning through the middle of summer.

We use methylated spirits to start our heater. When we left Victoria for Haida Gwaii in early May we had only a few ounces aboard, but because we only fire up the heater when its really cold (i.e. wintertime) we thought we would never use up our supply before we returned in October. We did, and unfortunately it was almost impossible to find methylated spirits north of Campbell River.

Yes, I said “never” a lot this summer.

“We’ve never turned on our bus heater before while motoring in June.”

Then it was July and it was still on when we were under engine, which was most of the time since there was not much sailing to be had.

“Never seen so many logs.“

We repeated that statement many times as we made our way up the Salish Sea and along BC’s central and north coasts. This year, in our experience, was unusual. There were lots of posts about logs on social media and four competitors in the R2AK pulled out after log strikes.

“Never seen you wear your toque into July.”

Something I told Jim as he pulled on a wool hat and bundled into his winter coat to go up onto the foredeck to haul anchor. Typically, by June, he’s switched to a baseball cap to keep the sun off, but this year he was more concerned with keeping his ears warm.

“At least we never have to put up the sun shade curtains.”

Which is something I sang, trying to find a silver lining in the weather. Usually, while we sit in the cockpit playing cards, we have to arrange and rearrange curtains to keep out of the sun. It’s often a futile task as our boat swings at anchor, but this year the shades remained folded away, as least until August.

“Never thought I’d pay $700 to top up the diesel.“

Well, not much to add to that.

“Never seen so much rain, so many days in a row.”

This was an unusually wet spring and summer, which meant being cooped up on the boat day after day. We’re not big on going ashore for soggy walks. I know it’s the wet coast, but this year was ridiculous.

“Never seen so many boats here.”

That was something we often exclaimed as we pulled into anchorages in the Broughtons and Desolation Sound. The evening we dropped anchor in Waddington Bay we counted 16 boats. Potts Lagoon was almost the same. We repeated the comment entering Von Donop Inlet, Melanie Cove and Drew Harbour. Other anchorages, which we usually had to ourselves, were cluttered with five or six vessels. As we neared Prince Rupert, we learned the marinas there were so full of transient boats we wouldn’t get a slip for a week, and the nearby anchorages were also chockablock. (We gave up and went straight to Haida Gwaii).

“Never expected to be so taken with Haida Gwaii.”

We had our driest days there, the anchorages were secure, serene and we had most of them to ourselves. We managed to go ashore at four of the five Watchmen sites in near perfect weather, which was fortunate considering how exposed those anchorages are. The sites were stunningly beautiful, spiritually moving and the Watchmen were knowledgeable, welcoming and humbling. It truly is a remarkable place and I will treasure the memories always.

“Never seen a grizzly bear up close.”

That was something I lamented as we scanned the shore day after day, ever hopeful. Well, I can’t say that anymore. I’m not sure who was more surprised when I peeked over the edge of the pool at the Eucott Bay hot springs. It was a big grizzly, just 20 metres away.

Jim and I jumped out of the pool, mostly naked and probably looking very tasty, in a panicked scramble to put on our flip-flops and get back to the dinghy. We were expecting instant death, only to look up and see the big bear trotting away. I thought grizzlies just ate you, no fuss, no muss. We learned something that day:

“Never leave our bear spray on the boat.”

Which brings to me a more personal “never”. After 13 years of living aboard and cruising four or five months every summer, I have finally voiced it:

“I’m never spending the whole summer on the boat again.”

Maybe it’s the pull of our new home on land, my first since 2004. We got possession just weeks before taking off for Haida Gwaii. Maybe, after weeks of gray chill, seeing my daughter’s photos of her trip to Tuscany made me want to travel in different ways. I want sunshine and vibrant colours, summer dresses and floppy sunhats, sipping wine at a café surrounded by people not discussing mold and alternator output. And maybe the variety will make cruising as inspiring as it once was.

I find the sailing/cruising lifestyle a contrast in extremes: boredom and exhilaration, tedium and adventure. But always, from the stunning natural beauty of the mountains and waterfalls to the simple reflection of light playing on the water, it fills me with wonder and I sigh:

“Some things never change…”

🙂 Stay safe,
Lynne