Okay, actually I never planned to go to Sidney. It just sort of happened.
I headed out on the first of July, Canada Day. Sliding down the Fraser, opposing the wind and with little benefit from the current because I left so late the tide was rising on the river. And the further down I got, the bigger the wind, the worse the waves. Bashing into it in the second to last stretch the spray was constant and I was seriously depressed about not having a dodger to hide behind.
But finally I made the curve into the last stretch, the wind would now be merely close-hauled, instead of on the nose. As soon as I was able, I set sail. The boat was being hammered by the worst waves I can ever recall sailing in, 1-2 metres and steep, close together, the boat hammering down about every third or fourth wave with a crash, all the gear in the cabin flying about.
(The soccer ball, computer, and stove chimney had been stowed in the quarterberth, but were found in the mess between the settees. Gear from the shelves on both sides had been shaken out, the bottle scotch apparently getting launched at some point but was unbroken – unlike the plastic bottle of boat soap which mysteriously cracked and poured out all over everything near the companionway.)
Despite two reefs in the main and the 100% jib the boat was clearly overpowered, heeling 30-40° and occasionally more. Despite pointing higher, we slid to the leeside of the shipping channel, and then to leeward of it, but by that time we were clearing the entrance and were only dealing with the heavy waves of Robert’s Bank and, finally, able to fall of the wind a bit.
Sometime during this I’d put the tiller pilot on so I could go forward and tension the jib halyard more. Suddenly the boat was all out of trim, heading down and the waves were hitting wrong, and then we jibed. I don’t really remember how I got there, but I got to the cockpit somehow and tried to pull the tiller pilot off the tiller, but it was jammed so tightly I had to kick it loose. From then on it was hand steering, because the tiller pilot was stuck at its shortest position and wouldn’t release.
For the first hour it was pretty wild, a little bit like riding a galloping horse with no reins. We averaged 7.4 kts for that hour, over the ground, on a broad reach in a small boat with an 18.5′ waterline. At the end of it we were coming under the lee of the Gulf Islands, approaching Active Pass, and the wind was moderating while the waves had long since settled down first to well-spaced low swells and then to just a light chop.
Beyond Mayne Island to Georgeson Pass, through Horton Bay where the wind dropped to a whisper and it was so quiet I could hear people talking ashore and bird calls on the far side of the islands, absolutely beautiful. But on into Plumper Sound, and then…
And then I’d planned on pulling into Winter Cove, near Boat Passage. But that bay was chock a block with boats; it looked like one could jump from one to the next all the way across. It turns out there’s a huge Canada Day Lamb Barbecue on Saturna Island there, and it was extremely well attended so far as I could see.
So I pulled into the much less populous Irish Bay on Samuel Island, dropped the hook, and began digging out the cabin. I was thoroughly exhausted, too, so I just did the least I could get away with, and curled into my berth by 9pm.








