woo-hoo, I'm getting pretty high tech for an old phart

In Ganges for Saturday market, and figured out how to log on with a
"wireless" device from local coffee shop. Not much of an acomplishment
for the average computer fan-


but don't forget that I use one of these things because primarily
because they replaced typewriters.

Made a mistake in judgment and exhibited some poor seamanship on this
cruise. I'll share my experience just in case somebody else can learn
from it.

Be back to Seattle in about 9 days or so....

See ya all later. :-)

************************************************** *************************

We so enjoyed Howe Sound that we lingered a day longer than we should
have. I listened to Environment Canada's forecasts for the Strait of
Georgia become steadily more ominous, as the barometer's pointer
slowly dropped from readings labeled "Fair" to the section indicating
"Change." All this while sunny weather continued, of course- if I
hadn't been checking the radio twice a day and observing the barometer
I might have had an excuse for a failure to scoot across to the Gulf
Islands at the tail end of the high pressure cell. As it was, I had
only myself to blame for the way the situation developed.

"We need to cross the Strait tomorrow," I had said as we bedded down
the previous evening. "I hope the weather holds long enough for us to
get over comfortably, but the next few days following sound like they
will be prohibitively windy. We don't want to spend our entire two
weeks in Howe Sound."

We breakfasted aboard at Gibson's, hoping to get an early start. Flags
and banners hung limp in the dead calm that prevailed in the marina,
but I suspected conditions were entirely different only a couple of
miles away. We cast off and motored out through Shoal Passage, where
we discovered that conditions were very different indeed. Environment
Canada was warning of winds in the 15-25 knot category in the Strait.
I was hoping for 15, but found every bit of 25. The winds were blowing
from the SE, with an effective fetch that piled ever higher mounds of
roiling water from as far south as Anacortes. We had ventured out an
extremely uncomfortable half mile, rocking and pitching, and splashing
water over the top of the pilothouse. I began wondering whether we
should turn back. A long series of particularly nasty and breaking 4-
footers began hammering on the port beam- tossing us as casually as a
cork. I swallowed all pride and changed course 180-degrees. Sometimes
it's better to go back than to go on.

We ran up to Gambier Island and explored ashore until just after
lunch. The weather report suggested that conditions had moderated a
bit in the Strait, and were expected to improve a bit more until late
afternoon- and then winds would rise to levels at least as high as we
had experienced in the morning.

We made a second attempt, and logged about a mile before snotty
conditions sent us scurrying for the shelter of Howe Sound once again.
"We'll take a mooring buoy in Plumper Cove," I announced, "and see if
the weather settles down in an hour or so."
We arrived in Plumper Cover just as the wind began howling through
with extreme vigor.
Boats already on buoys there cast off the seek shelter elsewhere, and
we saw little point in taking a beating on a mooring buoy instead of
ducking behind Keats or Bowen Island and enjoying some relative
shelter. "I'll call Horseshoe Bay and see if we can get a
reservation," suggested Jan. "If we get stuck for a while we can at
least catch a bus into Vancouver or something."

"See if they have space," I agreed, "but hold off on committing to a
reservation. The observations on the south side of the Strait are
sounding pretty encouraging and Environment Canada continues to say
that winds will moderate for a while this afternoon. I want to make
one more try before we give up for the day."

"OK," said Jan, dubiously.

We set out again, this time from between Keats and Bowen Islands.
Maybe I thought that picking a different channel would produce
different results- and for the first few miles conditions were the
best we had experienced in the Strait all day. "We've been in a lot
rougher water than this," said Jan. "I don't like it at all, but
you're right- we can probably make it."

"I'm headed for Silva Bay," I said. "Howe Sound to Silva Bay is only
about 15 miles and even slowed down a bit to allow for sea conditions
we should make it in about two hours."

Mother Nature had other plans. About five miles into the crossing,
conditions deteriorated again. With salt spray flying everywhere and
the windshield wipers in overdrive; it seemed as if we were running
through the sea instead of on it. Our best choice was to let the sea
set our course, as continuing to Silva Bay exposed our port beam to
the wind. To reduce the rocking, pitching, and heaving from borderline
unsafe to merely extremely uncomfortable, we had to quarter into the
waves. Our new heading would necessitate a run of about 50% greater
distance, would take three hours instead of two, but given the choice
between two hours of terrible misery and three of discomfort, we
turned into the weather and headed south. I consulted the chart
plotter, and confirmed its reading with the wildly gyrating compass
and my ever-present paper chart. The choice the sea allowed us would
bring us to Porlier Pass, and beyond there we would be in the relative
sheltered waters of the Gulf Islands.

During the last hour of our crossing, we experienced the forecast
remission of the winds. Conditions were definitely more benign on the
south side of the Strait, as weather reports had been indicating all
afternoon, but the wind was not ready to dismiss us and continued to
tease. Our tide and current chart indicated we would make Porlier Pass
just an hour after a 6.5 knot flood. I knew we shouldn't try to run
Porlier in that much current, but every time I changed course for
another destination the wind would crankily gust up again and we'd
return to the heading bringing us to Porlier Pass.

"Actually," I observed, "we are far enough south that I could make a
run for Silva Bay and we'd have all this mess on our stern. I'd be
steering like crazy in those following seas, but we might rock
less..." After a moment's consultation we decided to press on for
Porlier- and that was probably the second best of the two options we
considered.

We approached Porlier to find a commercial tug and barge standing off
in the Strait. If conditions in the pass were too gnarly for a 2000-HP
tug, our 135-HP pleasure boat had no business in there either. Time is
more elastic than most people realize, and the last two or three miles
as we approached Porlier seemed to take as long to transit as the
previous ten. We were about ¼ mile from the commercial tug when it
began pulling through the pass. I calculated that the opposing 6.5
knot current would have dropped to something closer to 5, and decided
to gamble on the 3-4 knots of steerage way that Indulgence could
generate at 8.5 - 9 knots. If we followed the tug and barge at a
reasonable distance, we would be less likely to encounter any drift
and there were about a hundred and fifty yards between the rocks to
port and the rocks to starboard.

The first lesson of the sea is humility. Once in a while we all need a
refresher course. As we entered Porlier Pass we slammed into a
confusion of standing vertical waves- tall, pointed, and resembling
weird green egg whites beaten to meringue. While not as severe as the
wind waves out in the Strait, the effect on the boat was more
unpredictable and violent. I addressed myself when commenting, "This
is why you don't run these passes in this kind of current, dumbie!"
Our minefield of confused seas would form, collapse, and then reform
again without warning. Each time we thought we were through the worst
that Porlier had to offer, the egg whites would foam up again and
punish our tiny little boat for its skipper's pride and arrogance. Our
speed bled down to just over 2 knots at the tightest portion of the
pass, but we clawed our way past the lighthouse and through to safety.
The second portion of the front rolled in, the sky grew dismally dark
and rain began rinsing the brine from our hull- but the Strait had
taken pity on a foolish mariner and we were safely back in "inland"
waters.

If humility is the first lesson of the sea, the second is that the
primary limitation determining safety and seaworthiness for most
vessels has nothing to do with length, beam, draft, deadrise, or
displacement. The limitation rests with the maturity, judgment, and
seamanship of its master. I was lucky enough to break a few rules
without serious mishap- but absolutely proved that the primary
limitation of "Indulgence" is the most common of all. Jan was right,
we should have spent a few more days on the north side of the Strait
of Georgia and waited until the weather both improved and stabilized.