sailboatbliss

Cruising by sail in the Pacific NW


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The Shake Out Cruise – A Review of Our Sabre 42 CB and Some Pictures From Our Summer

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAFinally!  After all the work we completed in the first 6 months of 2017, we relished the opportunity to stretch our legs over a couple of months of cruising and really see what we had.  Our original plan was to spend our first week in the Gulf Islands to test our new systems and get familiar with them before setting off north for more ambitious destinations; we thought that the comfort of knowing that we’d always be close to help and supplies would take the edge off.   However, after a fun and relaxing first weekend near Silva Bay, we decided to head north to cruise with friends using the logic that everything seemed to be working fine so far and that Desolation Sound isn’t really that far from assistance if we ran into a problem.

Our first real test came on our 4th day out on the passage from Silva Bay to Pender Harbour.  This is a 33nm run to the north, and can be a challenge in a strong northwesterly – the prevailing wind here in the summer.   It was in blowing in the low to mid 20’s on this day, and Georgia Strait was in a bit of a mood with a steep 3′ chop.  Period is everything when it comes to waves, and Georgia Strait is notorious for generating waves with a short period.  It was 4 seconds on this day – short, steep and wet.  Perfect weather for learning!

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Hard on the wind in Caamano Sound

We got our first “new boat” lesson when we went to put up the main.  The halyard on the Sabre is wire, and it has considerable mass.  As soon as I attached it to the headboard of the main, it started to flap all over the place, and in short order, had wrapped itself around the steaming light. With the boat bouncing and the spray flying, I gave up trying to free it pretty quick.  The day would be a headsail only affair!  The lesson?  Put the main up before it’s too rough.

Turns out we didn’t need the main anyways.  With the 130 genoa all the way out, we took off like a freight train – doing up to 7 knots at 40 degrees apparent, straight through the waves.  Fast, fun and wet.  We could’ve pointed higher with some main up, but the wind built and eventually we had to reef the 130 down, so perhaps having the main up would’ve been too much.  Regardless, the speed and comfort in difficult conditions were impressive.

We got our second lesson soon after setting sail.  However, this one was more of a reminder of something we already should’ve learned: make sure the hatches are dogged BEFORE setting sail.  Not long after settling into the groove, we took green water over the deck.  A good portion made it over the dodger and right into the cockpit.  A short while later, it happened again.  Wondering about the integrity of all of the window seals etc, I asked Lori to see if it was dry below.  It was not.  Just as she descended into the cabin, we went through yet another wave; the cascade of water down the fore-hatch was clear evidence that it was not dogged down tight.  Oops…The lesson here is embarrassingly obvious.

We learned our third lesson after docking in Pender Harbour : it’s probably a mistake to ignore a  leaking fuel tank.  (Yes, I know the 3 thing is a cliché, but it really was the 3rd and final major lesson for the summer.)

We’d discovered the leak a few months earlier, but decided to ignore it as it was only leaking a teaspoon or so every week.  We put an oil sock in the bilge and a pad under the tank and moved on.  The rough crossing disabused us of this notion.

Soon after docking, I checked the bilge only to find the pad and sock quite heavy with diesel.  We debated leaving it, but decided it was now too much to ignore.  The next day, I emptied the tank and pulled it out.  Upon inspection, it was clear that the hole was always of a significant size, but had been partially blocked with diesel sludge.  The agitation from the rough sail changed all that and turned the small drip into a cascade. Although a new tank is on this winter’s boat job list,  I’m happy to report that the temporary patch I put on at the beginning of July is still drip free; JB Weld is amazing stuff.

The rest of the summer was relatively uneventful.  The 2 systems that I was most concerned about both worked well: we put 180 happy hours on our new diesel with no significant problems, and the electrical system worked as designed, with full batteries every day thanks to our new solar system.  I’m also happy to report that by August, I was spending almost no time doing maintenance or improvements; things just worked!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASome thoughts on the Sabre 42 and some comparisons to our Mariner 36

Overall, we are very happy with her; she’s roomy, fast, and comfortable.  The cockpit is wonderful for entertaining, and has plenty of places to brace yourself when it gets rough out.  We weren’t sure how we’d like the sail plan with it’s relatively small head sail and large main, but we’ve found the boat easy to sail and the smaller foresail an asset when beating to weather.  Down below, plenty of hand holds make getting around fairly easy, and the large galley is a delight to work in.

Sailing:

  • With the main up and centerboard down,  she’ll point quite high and makes very little leeway.  We raced her in June, and were pointing as high as our friend’s C&C 34 – around 30 degrees apparent.
  • Our trip across Georgia Strait was fast but wet.  She tended to sail through the larger waves (6′) without slowing down.  This is partially a product of the shape of the chop in Georgia Strait.  A 3′ significant wave height means we saw the odd 6′ wave.  All of them had a 4 second period.  These are steep waves that didn’t really allow the boat to rise to them.   We’ve only really had this one day of beating into strong winds and we looking forward getting out in the strong stuff again to learn more.
  • When going downwind under all whites, her best VMG is dead downwind, even in fairly light winds.  We’ve rigged permanent preventers, so sailing deep is pretty stress free.  In really light winds, we still tack downwind flying the asymmetrical spinnaker, but we seemed to need this extra power less often than we did with the Mariner.  In heavy winds, her longish keel means that she tracks quite well.  In contrast, the Mariner sailed so much faster on a reach that we often tacked downwind in light to medium winds.
  • There are genoa tracks and cars on the toe rail; moving the sheets outboard for downwind work dramatically improves sail shape and provides chafe free leads. We tried all kinds of things to achieve this on the Mariner; none of our efforts were as satisfactory as the outboard leads on the Sabre.
  • She stands up to a breeze, despite the fact that the keel is only 5′ deep.
  • The helm is super light.  After 13 years of sailing with an unbalanced rudder hung off a skeg, our new spade is almost too light.  On the bright side, it’s not tiring and the autopilot doesn’t really ever work that hard.

Motoring:

  • We replaced the Westerbeke 46 with a Beta 50.  At 2000 RPM, she’ll do 7 kts on roughly 3 litres/hour (just under a gallon).  Max RPM is 2800.    This efficiency is similar to the Mariner, which is fantastic considering the Sabre is 6′ longer and 2000 lbs heavier.
  • She doesn’t pound when sailing to weather, but does when motoring, especially when compared to the Mariner with her v sections forward of the keel.  Bottom line; she’s designed to sail, not motor.
  • The cockpit is super quiet!  The motor is under the sink, not the cockpit, making conversation under way a pleasant, no shouting, affair.  As an added bonus, the noise below is about the same as the Mariner.
  • She turns in her length, and backs up fairly straight.  I was worried that the distance between the prop and the rudder would mean that slow, close quarters manoeuvring would be difficult, but this hasn’t been the case.

Miscellaneous

  • The quality of the glasswork is excellent, even in out of the way corners.
  • Access to almost everything is good.  The diesel tank was a piece of cake to remove and reinstall.
  • Cabin stowage is good, but for my tastes, the cabin could’ve been a little smaller and the storage behind the settees bigger.
  • Cockpit storage is excellent.  The two lazarette hatches provide access to a massive space that holds our cabin heater, fenders, paddle boards, fishing gear, stern line, dinghy wheels,  and dinghy pumps.  The sail locker is equally impressive.
  • The side decks are like runways, and provide excellent access to the foredeck.
  • The original install for the windlass was problematic.  The biggest issue was that the windlass didn’t drop the chain into the anchor locker; the previous owner actually hand bombed the anchor down when setting it, and peeled it off of the gypsy and flaked it by hand when weighing anchor.  I’ve since installed a new windlass and provided a lead for it to drop into the anchor by itself.
  • The bilge sucks.  There is a reasonably deep but small sump aft of the engine, but otherwise the bottom is flat.   I didn’t like it when we bought her, and I still don’t like it.  Unfortunately, most modern boats are built the same way.  The Mariner had a keel stub that would hold a significant amount of water and prevent it from sloshing around under the cabin sole.  Yes, I know the bilge should be dry, but that is pretty much impossible with a keel stepped mast.
  • The cabin top winches, clutches and cleats are just silly.  Not only are they toe killers and tripping hazards,  their location means that it takes 2 on the deck to take down the asymmetrical spinnaker.  With 2 of us on board, that means nobody is in the cockpit.  This is getting fixed this winter.
  • The anchor locker divider is also silly.  The top edge of the plywood divider is exposed to falling chain and moisture meaning that it will eventually rot out.  We took ours out and replaced it with a shelf.

Our Summer Route:

This year we were focused on learning the boat, so stuck mostly to places we’ve been before.  Most of the pictures are from the area north of Bella Bella – our favourite stretch of the BC coast.  Our route took us north around Cape Caution, up past Bella Bella and Klemtu via the Inside Passage, and finally up Laredo Channel  to Campania Island.  Our route south was similar, but we stuck to more open waters on the outside wherever possible to take advantage of the strong north westerlies that established themselves early in August.  Our best sail was a 45 nm run down Laredo Sound into Hecate Strait, around McInnes Island and into Queens Sound.

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Willywaws

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“Holy crap that was a big gust!” (My dad was there – I had to keep it PG)

After a long but eventually fruitful day of fishing in the drizzle, we pulled into Matheson Inlet in Haida Gwaii for a quiet night.  Our weather pattern had changed a couple of weeks before as the abnormally strong Pacific High of spring 2015 regressed into something that we think resembled normality for BC’s north coast- regular dousings interspersed with frequent but short lived sunny stretches.  In Haida Gwaii, these low pressure systems were textbook: sunshine slowly disappearing into the gradually thickening cloud bank of the warm front, drizzle followed by a short stretch of unsettled weather, and then the thick, wet cumulus of the following cold front.  The passage of these systems never lasted long, and were always followed by a day or two of warm sunny weather before the next system arrived.  In addition, none of the lows to this point had been were particularly deep or violent.

This changed in Matheson Inlet as the next low moved though the next day.  Nothing too extreme, just enough to remind us of the value of good ground tackle and conservative procedures.  We were also fortunate to be sitting alone in completely enclosed bay with lots of swinging room.  We had 7:1 out, 100′ of which is chain: it pays to be prepared to sit out a blow.

The thing I found most interesting about the day is that I’m convinced that the wind was far less strong outside the bay.  The topography of Moresby Island – relatively tall peaks on a very thin stretch of land – lends itself to places where the wind is accelerated as it moves through the passes between peaks and down the valleys.  Environment Canada’s excellent resource on coastal weather explains it like this:

The narrowness of Moresby Island allows southeast winds along the east side of the island to flow over top and hit hard onto the waters of the inlets on the west side. In strong wind conditions, this makes it difficult to anchor or find shelter. The southernmost part of Haida Gwaii is particularly difficult in this regard, with Gowgaia Bay and Tasu Sound two examples of places where gusty winds come down off the mountains.

I can attest that the above is also true, but in the reverse, when strong SW’ers blow.  For us, these gusty winds meant sustained winds of 25 kts, with gusts to 46, or almost double the sustained speed.  The worst winds were during daylight and our situation was very secure, so we relaxed and enjoyed the spectacle.  Thank goodness for good anchors!

 


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Georgia Strait

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Aside from losing our steering in Choked Passage on the west coast of Vancouver Island, our scariest moments have all been in Georgia Strait.  But then, it is our proving ground and we take more risks there than elsewhere.  We’ll go out in Georgia Strait in pretty much any forecast and often go a few days between listening to the weather.  As a result, we’ve img_1112been spanked a few times, but we also feel that we are better sailors because of these lessons.  Outside of Georgia Strait, we are quite a bit more conservative – we pay close attention to the weather and pick times that we feel are within our comfort zone.  The experience in poor conditions in Georgia Strait has served to make our comfort zone bigger, and has given us some confidence that we can handle tougher conditions if we pick our times poorly.

Our scariest moment has to be on a passage from Smuggler’s Cove on the Sunshine Coast to Silva Bay on Gabriola Island in a late summer SE gale in 2009.  We’ve run with a gale many times, and have mostly found it to be fun if managed properly.  On this passage, we decided to go out and see what beating into one was like.

We motored down Welcome Passage very slowly, repeatedly burying the bow into the next wave and anticipating the moment that we could bear off and actually sail.  We’d tried (and failed) going around the north end of Thormanby the day before in similar conditions and decided that it was worth the tough motor south to get a better angle across the strait.

Eventually, we arrived at the passage between Merry Island and Thormanby Island, and decided to sail from there.   Based on our misadventures the day before, we pulled out only our blade (90%) and bore off.  After the brutality of the motor, the smooth motion of the boat under sail was a huge relief, and we all had smiles as she picked up speed and started over the waves at a pleasant 6 kts.  The bliss was short-lived.  Just as we were leaving the pass and entering the strait proper, an enormous wave reared.  I called for all hands to take cover under the dodger as the boat rose up the face of the wave and then fell off the top.  It was only the first of a series and the boat was still going down as the next wave rose up in front of us; the only way for us to go was through it.  I’m not sure how much green water came over the deck, but it looked like a wall and I got soaked despite my foulies.  Luckily, nothing broke, and the rest of the crew stayed mostly dry.   Of course there was a third in the series, but we were able to rise to it as we had to the first.

The rest of the sail was completely uneventful.  By half way across we had the main up too.  Eventually we even had to tack back eastwards as the wind on the west side of the strait was light.  Nonetheless, it was difficult to relax – its hard to describe what went through my head as that wall of water washed over the boat, but it left me uneasy for the rest of the day and still leaves a vivid image in my mind.  Now, we always tell people that we enjoy running in strong winds, but will never intentionally beat into 35kts again; once was enough.

Georgia Strait Summer Weather

Summer gales aren’t common, but strong winds are.   Our observation is that these are not based on the time of day nearly as much as they are in other locations such as Juan de Fuca Strait.  However, as I mention in my story, they can be highly localized; it is quite normal to have strong winds at Entrance Island and no wind at Merry Island (or the reverse).  NW winds seem to be strongest between Sisters Island and Entrance Island, probably due to the funnel that Texada and Vancouver Island create in this area; SE winds can be strong anywhere, but are often nasty farther south.  Fortunately, the strait is blessed with many reporting stations, and it is very easy to determine current conditions.  If you have access to the internet, it is also possible to get data for the previous 24 hours on Environment Canada’s website.  If you’ve been monitoring weather, this is a powerful tool as not only does it allow you to see trends, it also allows you to see any anomalies in the forecast.

Our experience is that the forecasts are fairly accurate, but almost always overstate the wind.  Of course, this is only true if they haven’t understated it; you take your chances betting on Environment Canada being conservative with their wind forecast.  Another thing  to remember is that the forecast is for the strongest wind in the forecast area over the forecast period, which is not necessarily the part of the strait you are planning to transit.  We’ve also noted that strong summertime SE winds usually don’t last for more than a day, and while NW’ers can and do set in for prolonged periods when the weather is warm, this isn’t the norm either.

Lastly, Georgia Strait is not really that big.  Given a good window, most boats are rarely more than 2 or 3 hours from shelter, and usually far closer.  In addition, there are lots of places to stop in most areas of the strait, many of which are worthy of being destinations in their own right.  So, enjoy the strait and all it has to offer – we are lucky to have such a beautiful body of water in which to learn our craft right on our doorstep.

Whiskey Golf

Whiskey golf is an annoying military area right on the rhumb line between Nanaimo and Pender Harbour, and is marked on all Canadian charts of the region.  It is used by the Navies of a few countries, predominately Canada and the USA, to test fire torpedoes.  If you enter it while it is active, not only will you be putting your vessel at risk of being torpedoed (they’re not armed with explosives, but that’s probably academic for most of us), you will earn the wrath of the military and be the day’s entertainment for all those listening on VHF 16.  To avoid all of this unpleasantness, simply monitor the VHF weather channels – they will tell you if area WG is open or closed.  You can also try VHF 10 to talk directly to Winchelsea Control.  Unfortunately, it is hard to make plans for transiting this area in advance as they don’t usually broadcast future usage dates.  We try to transit the area on a weekend – while this is no guarantee, the Navy seems to like days off as much as the rest of us, especially Sundays.


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Moving On – Selling Palomita

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Palomita at sunset on what is probably our last night aboard – Jan 1, 2017.

Its been an eventful and stressful fall; after talking about it for years, we decided to buy a new boat.  And while it seems like 10 months should be lots of time to make this happen, we are currently the proud owners of two boats so as to eliminate any possibility of being boatless next summer.  Ouch.

Buying a boat is a complicated task.  You’d think that experience would make the task easier, but after spending so much time out on the water our list of necessary features in a boat has grown incredibly unwieldy.   This means that just choosing a suitable boat is hard, never mind actually finding one.   It’s all such a royal pain that Lori has always said she’d refuse to participate in a next boat search until I’d done a bunch of weeding through options – not because she doesn’t have any opinions on the matter, but because it was so hard to find something we liked last time.  Countless hours poring over listings on yachtworld.com and specs on sailboatdata.com looking for something that met our expectations didn’t make the process any less daunting.  At any given time, there just aren’t many candidates that feature the look, layout, performance and build quality that we want at a price that we can swing.  Even with a continent wide search, they are few and far between.

Then there is selling Palomita; we love our boat.  She’s been amazing, teaching us and taking care of us every summer since 2004.  Our family has grown up onboard, and many of our social connections have their root in our beautiful boat.  We can’t imagine having done everything we’ve done over the last 13 years on any other boat.

Still, we both agreed that we wanted more space and performance, and the only way to get that was to buy a new boat.  Last spring we found a candidate, and she was local.  We weren’t really seriously looking at the time, but the boat did strike a chord with both of us.   Finding her in BC made her especially intriguing.

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Indemnity (don’t worry, the name isn’t staying) is a a 87 Sabre 42CB.  Her layout, performance and reputation fit the bill, but the cored hull and centerboard raised serious concerns about the possibility of a compromised core and insufficient stability.  The lack of alternatives forced me to look deeper. Simply put, there are lots of boats out there, and they are all compromises.  Short of building a custom boat to suit our individual quirks, we’ll all have to pick our boat buying poisons.  After some research, we decided that a centerboard and a cored hull are ours.  After some digging, I’m not even sure they’re compromises.

Palomita draws 5 feet, and this has always been a double edged sword.  We’ve appreciated the freedom of having shallow draft and bemoaned the leeway while beating .  Indemnity also draws 5 feet, except for when she doesn’t.  Put the board down and she draws up to 8’6″.   Yes, its a pain to crank the board up and down, but the deep draft with the board down should make her point fairly high and with a 42% ballast ratio compared to Palomita’s 35%, it is unlikely that stability is an issue.   We’ll see.

To my mind, the cored hull is a little bit more straight forward.  Well done, it allows builders to build stiffer, lighter boats.  For someone interested in performance, these are both desirable attributes.  Sabres have been building cored hulls for a long time and have a long reputation for quality glass work.  On top of that, the survey was great, so we’re pretty confident that she’ll be fine.

But this is all just a bunch of technical mumbo jumbo.  While it’s really important to get right, it turns out that it’s not the hardest part of getting a deal done.  It really shouldn’t be a surprise that the toughest part is the people part.  Buying a boat isn’t the fun it should be considering the cash involved.  Negotiations, schedules, emotions and the unknowns of purchasing something as complex as a 30 year old boat make the process fraught with tension.  Dealing with vastly different ideas of what seaworthy maintenance looks like only adds to the frustration.  On second thought, maybe it’s not fun because of the cash involved.

So here we go.  Selling a big part of the last 13 years of our lives, and starting again on a new boat is a major undertaking full of challenges.  And once the buying and selling is all done, the real work of making the new boat ours will begin.  It’ll start with a new name.

 

 


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Crossing Hecate Strait

This is for some friends who are leaving for Haida Gwaii in a couple of weeks.  I hope you enjoy your trip as much as we enjoyed ours.

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The sun setting over Haida Gwaii, 50nm behind

I’m not sure how others who’ve cruised Haida Gwaii felt about crossing Hecate Strait, but I do know that it was a life event for me.  In hindsight, both crossings were smooth and  easy, but really, these passages are just as much about dealing with the mythology that surrounds them, and the ensuing anticipation, as they are about the actual event.  The same has been true for all of the “notorious” stretches we have sailed: Cape Caution, Cape Scott, Brooks Peninsula…  We are careful and strategic when choosing our weather windows, and have the boat and ourselves well prepared; without fail this work means that each new trial is no trial at all.  Even so, I still wonder on each new adventure if this next crossing or rounding will be the one where preparation and planning fails.  Will this one be the one where the ocean has her way?

Early on in our planning, far from the north coast and with the comforts of our home and time, we decided it might be fun to do two overnighters on our Haida Gwaii trip – one each way across Hecate.  As we worked our way north, this ideal became expendable.  Reality has a way of changing things.  Eventually, we settled for a very uneventful motor across the strait and anchored in the dark.  Not quite the same as an adventure filled night sail, but it did involve mucking about in the dark and allowed a huge sigh of relief.  One down, one to go.

After three wonderful weeks exploring the islands, it was time for part two.  Unlike our first crossing at the end of a long stretch of sun and strong westerlies, our second crossing had to fit into a tight window between the low pressure systems that had been sweeping across the islands on a regular basis. Sun, rain, wind, repeat.  Our strategy became listen decide, and go.  We needed to pick a window and leave with no hesitation.

The day we eventually picked was an oddity mostly because of the spontaneity with which we went for it – we spent all of 2 minutes making the call.  We started the day with a wonderful visit to SGang Gwaay – truly a mystical place – dodging squalls and wondering when the sky would open.  We were lucky to see many strong showers close by and avoid all of them.  We even enjoyed a great sail on the way back into the anchorage at Rose Harbour.  As we approached our intended stop and were mentally preparing for a tough evening of good food, a bottle of wine, and maybe some reading, I decided to listen to the weather – a broken repeater had made weather info very hard to get, so frequent attempts were important in order to get any sort of mental picture of likely developments.  This attempt was successful, and I poked my head back into the cockpit with the offhand remark that we should just cross now…start a 110nm trip at 2:30 in the afternoon.  Everyone had heard the forecast of SW winds to 20 knots with showers turning to rain in the morning.  I’d long since abandoned the thought of a night crossing and wasn’t really serious, so was mildly shocked to get a “Sure, why not?” from the crew.

The sail that night was both amazing and difficult.  The wind was perfect – 8 to 23 kts on the beam – as were the seas.  The rain held off until we were within sight of our destination, and the scenery before sunset was stunning.  The short night was not stunning.  The  depth of the night was intense – like sailing through ink – and the cold was relentless.  And after an early morning the day before, so was the fatigue.  At 12:30 in the morning, my dad was clearly suffering and I sent him below to sleep while I kept watch.  Even though we were heavily reefed to slow the boat down, thoughts of plowing into one of the many trees we’d seen floating in the waters on the mainland side of the strait kept me tense as I shivered in my dark corner.  Two long hours later, Lori relieved me, but even in the cabin, sleep and warmth were elusive.

We arrived in Mouat Cove, just east of Ivory Island, at 8:10 after sailing 110nm in 17 hours, much of it at 5kts under reduced sail.  The promised downpour arrived pretty much as soon as we dropped the hook.  Needless to say, the relief and feeling of accomplishment were intense.

I know many have done this trip; many have done trips that make this one look small and insignificant.  For me, these crossings were a life event.  It’s all in the anticipation.


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Anchorages on the West Coast of Vancouver Island – Part 2

Clayoquot Sound and Barkley Sound are the two southern-most sounds on the west coast of Vancouver Island.  In addition to being a welcome re-introduction to the benefits of civilization for those doing a counter-clockwise circumnavigation, their relative accessibility from Juan de Fuca Strait make them attractive destinations for those who don’t have the time or inclination to do the 360 degree tour. While they are both beautiful, they are also very different from each other; Barkley is wide open to the Pacific, and dotted with small islands and anchorages that often lie amongst islands instead of in them.  Clayoquot is much more like cruising the Broughton Archipeligo, with narrow channels separating large islands indented by well protected inlets and bays.

Clayoquot Sound

Bacchante Bay

Bacchante Bay is a logical first stop after leaving Sidney Inlet for boats traveling the flat water route behind Flores Island.   Protected by a narrow entrance, this large bay provides excellent shelter for many more boats than one is likely to see in all of Clayquot Sound.  That said, the real reason to visit is the creek at the head of the bay.  It is stunning, with mountains that rise almost straight up out of the crystal clear water, and was easily navigable by kayak when we visited.

 

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Kayaking up the creek in Bacchante Bay

Matilda Inlet

Matilda Inlet is another classic Clayoquot anchorage – a large, well protected bay nestled at the end of an inlet.  The main attraction here is the bay itself; it is quiet, and fun to explore as long as your are mindful of the depths.  In addition, there are a few trails to get out and stretch your legs on (one of which leads to a beautiful beach), a warm springs, and two small villages to explore – Marktosis (pretty much abandoned when we stopped in 2010) and Ahousat First Nation.

“Tranquilito Cove”

One of my all time favourites, Tranquilito Cove is a must stop on a sunny day.  Located near the head of Tranquil Inlet, this small picturesque bay is far enough away from both the main route through Clayoquot and the hustle of Tofino to be quiet and very remote feeling.  It is also protected enough that the water gets plenty warm enough for swimming.

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Leaving “Tranquilito Cove”

Tofino

Tofino is a tourist Mecca, and deserving of the hype.  It is also the first sizable community during a counter-clockwise circumnavigation; after spending a few week on the northwest coast of Vancouver Island, arrival will definitely induce some culture shock.  It has everything a visiting boater will want except good moorage – restaurants, shops, a real grocery store, and a liquor store.  It is also close enough to some of the spectacular beaches along the Pacific Coast (Cox Bay, Long Beach and Chesterman Beach) to make a visit to one of these this a viable day trip via bus.  Despite all these positives, there is no good anchorage, and as already mentioned, the moorage is pretty dodgy.  The most likely spot to tie up is the 4th Street Public Dock, which is located along the very busy water front a short walk from “downtown.”  It is clean and well run, but will be crowded; expect to raft.  You can also expect to be bounced around by the wake from passing boats if you are close to the outer end of the dock – no one really seems to pay any heed to their wake here, not even the RCMP.  The fuel dock is the worst we’ve ever visited, for the same reasons.

Barkley Sound

The Broken Islands

The Broken Islands form a small archipelago in the middle of Barkley Sound.  There are a number of excellent anchorages here, all a short distances from each other.  Our favorite is “Turtle Bay” – between Turtle Island and Dodd Island – but any of the anchorages listed in the guide books are worth a visit.  Keep an eye out for the small pocket beaches that dot the shoreline of these islands.

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Pocket Beach on the North west side of Dodd Island

Lucky Creek

Lucky Creek in Pipestem Inlet is really is more of a destination than an anchorage.  In fact, the anchorage is pretty ho hum, with an intriguing creek to explore but marginal protection.  The destination, which is a fairly long dinghy ride from the closest anchorage, is amazing, and in settled weather is worth any risk the partial protection at the anchorage might imply.

Lucky Creek flows down a rocky bed that has eroded into a series of pools separated by short rocky bluffs.  The water itself is warm, and many of the pools are deep and ideal for swimming.   To access the creek, anchor either behind Bazett Island, or in the islands at the mouth of Cataract Creek, and dinghy across Pipestem Inlet and up the lower portion of Lucky creek on the last of a rising tide.  The end of the navigable section is marked by an impassable bluff – tie up here, scramble up the cliff (easy), and enjoy a series of wonderful pools and fun scrambling on the rock.  We had the creek to ourselves on the day we visited, but apparently it is a well known destination with tour operators in the area and can be crowded on a hot day.

Useless Inlet

Despite appearances on the chart, the entrance to this short inlet is fairly easy to run: follow the piloting advice in Douglass’ Guide.  The waters inside are very well protected and picturesque.  However, its outstanding feature was the crabbing.  Given that the return of the sea otters on the west coast has decimated the crab population further north, this discovery was quite a treat!

Bamfield

We love Bamfield – while it doesn’t have the facilities of Ucluelet, it makes up in charm.  There are a number of places to tie up in the inlet, but we like to anchor out in the obvious basin just north of Rance Island.  The holding here is very good, as is the access to the dock.  The best grocery shopping is on the east side of Bamfield Inlet, but the real charm is the boardwalk on the west side.  If you’re up for a walk, be sure to make the well marked trek to beautiful Brady  Beach.

 

There are many hidden gems along this amazing coast that make a visit to the West Coast of Vancouver Island very worthwhile – please share in the comments section if I’ve left your favourite out.  For those who haven’t made it out to Vancouver Island’s wild side, I hope that this small sampling of highlights from our journeys here will inspire you to set out and explore!


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Cruising the Sea Of Cortez – Loreto

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Moonrise at San Juanico

Loreto?  Where’s that?  What can I say about this amazing cruising ground that isn’t obvious from our pictures?  Bottom line, this area should be on any cruiser’s short list of destinations despite – or maybe because of – the fact that it is almost unknown.  The weather is perfect, the anchorages are close together, the scenery is stunning, the people are friendly and helpful, and the water is warm.  But options for getting a berth are limited to sailing your own boat down, or staying with a friend – there currently are no charters operating out of Loreto.

Loreto is a small city a couple of hundred miles north of La Paz, on the east side of the Baja California peninsula.  It is an old, historically significant city of about 15000 that is still off of the mainstream tourist trail.  It boasts a small charming downtown center with good restaurants, a few hotels, and a small beach.  It is popular with travelers looking for a laid back pace and outdoor recreational opportunities, especially water sports – fishing and diving.  The closest facility for cruising boats is 15 miles south in Puerto Escondido.

Our story really starts with our Haida Gwaii trip in 2015.  As I like to do every time we tie up somewhere, I went for a dock walk just to see who I’d meet.  Just down the finger, I struck up a conversation with a fellow named Dennis installing a watermaker on his sailboat Ultegra.  I asked a few questions, and his very thorough answer eventually led to sundowners in the cockpit.

Normally, this would be the end of the story.  We meet, and socialize, with people on the dock that we never see again all the time.  This time was different; two weeks later we just happened to anchor next to Ultegra in Haida Gwaii.  Serendipity.  This coincidence resulted in an excellent potluck, and eventually, an invitation to join Dennis at some point on his journey.  Even though we didn’t really know him – we’d only spent a couple of evenings socializing – we didn’t really spend much time thinking about it.  After all, he was offering up a berth aboard his boat in one of my dream destinations…What could go wrong?

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Our host Dennis in Haida Gwaii

As it turns out, nothing.  I won’t bore you with the details, but our gracious host opened his home to us and allowed us to share 11 days of fantastic sailing, perfect temperatures, mind blowing scenery, amazing food…the list is long.  He was kind and trusting enough to include us in all of the daily operations of the boat: planning, sailing, provisioning, cooking, and cleaning (yes cleaning – nothing makes you feel more at home than doing the dishes); we very quickly felt comfortable and at home.

I’m so glad we jumped at this opportunity.  It would’ve been easy to say thanks but no.  Happily, we didn’t.

A massive thank you and safe journey home to our host and friend, Dennis Giraud aboard the SV Ultegra.