Nanaimo, BC to Copeland Islands

By Aaron

Nanaimo

With few exceptions, it seems to us that sailors are pretty damn cool. Living aboard and now cruising, we’ve had the opportunity to meet lots of awesome people. Lance and Carol for example, met us through our blog as they were in the process of purchasing their Hans Christian. When we stopped in Nanaimo on our way north, they showed us some unbelievable hospitality. Taking us to the Pirate Day Sale at the local chandlery and making us a steak dinner with some Nanaimo bars for dessert! Then the next day taking us out to dinner at the floating Dinghy Dock Pub near where we were anchored. It was pretty fun to take the dinghy from the boat to a restaurant without even stepping on land.
Carol and Lance of s/v Syrah – thanks, guys!

Lance and Carol had mentioned that a rich guy in the area bought the actual SS Minnow from Gilligan's Island fame and restored it to its former glory. While we were having dinner, it happened to cruise by the pub… the passengers on the three-hour tour oblivious to the danger they were in.

Lance and Carol, thanks for making our stop in Nanaimo special.

Strait of Georgia

We left Nanaimo at 6am to cross the Strait of Georgia in conditions that were nastier than forecasted in the morning but settled out later in the day.  Bound for Hardy Island, we were plodding along when there was a thunderous BANG on the hull.  We hit a log.  A big one.  I’ve been known to exaggerate, but it looked to be an 800-year-old tree to me.  We immediately checked for incoming water, but everything looked okay.  The log passed us astern on our starboard side.  From this we surmised that preceding the collision we were approaching the log on its port side.  After a review of the collision rules, clearly the log had the right of way and we should have changed course to avert the collision. 

Considering the amount of log booms and giant log barges we’re seeing, it’s apparent that a few get loose from time to time.

We arrived at Hardy Island after a long run under power straight into the wind.  We tried to set the anchor in a few different spots, but the bottom was bare rock wherever we dropped the hook.  The sound of our 55lb anchor dragging along the rock was unmistakable and a bit disheartening.  (Especially since we have a manual windlass and I have to crank that thing up by hand every time we want to reset it.)  With only a few hundred feet to work with between cliffs all around us, there wasn’t a lot of room to go dragging the anchor around looking for something to grab onto.  So, with both of us ready to be in Desolation Sound, we decided to just carry on up to the Copeland Islands, another 5 hours away. 

We arrived at the Copeland Islands late in the day, making for a 70 nautical miles, 12.5 hour day.  The holding there wasn’t a whole lot better, and the anchor dragged on bare rock a bit before finding who knows what to grab onto.  We backed down on it really hard and it held, so we put a stern line to shore and called it good.  It was a nice evening, so we took the dinghy out for a spin and explored one of the islands.  Nicole later said that it was creepy, and I guess it was for a couple that lived in the city only 2 weeks ago and just listened to the engine run for nearly 13 hours.  The thing was, this place was quiet.  I mean dead silent, hear your own heartbeat quiet.  The water was mirror flat without even the slightest breeze.  No people.  No birds singing or water lapping at the shore.  No boats making their way or planes overhead.  Absolute, utter silence.  We hiked down to a rocky beach where we could finally hear a sound – a faint clicking that turned out to be the crabs mucking about under the rocks. 

The wind came up in the night, and as it moved us a bit we were woken up several times by the sound of the anchor chain dragging across bare rock.  Lying in your berth in the dark you have to wonder, if the chain is dragging across bare rock what’s the anchor holding onto?  With the current wind direction and strength, how much time do we have between the anchor dragging and going up on the rocks?  If we go up on the rocks, is the tide rising or falling?  Now try falling asleep.  At 4am we were awoken by 20 knot gusts coming through the anchorage and it sounded like the anchor was dragging on bare rock but it was probably just the chain.  Our position was relatively unchanged but I got out of bed and went on anchor watch so Nicole could get some more sleep.  I got my foulies on and everything ready to go, hoping we wouldn’t have to bug out in the dark.  The anchor held just fine, but we left soon after the sun came up.  Normally the anchor comes up with a huge pile of whatever it dug into piled onto the fluke, but this time the anchor and chain were totally clean.  I suspect we were hooked onto a lip of rock at best, and the stern line keeping tension on the anchor chain was the only thing keeping the anchor stuck there.  We left there pretty tired, in search of good holding (mud) at our next stop.