Our anchorage in Tribune Bay was protected from all but southwesterly winds, which decided to blow 25 to 30 knots overnight, from the southwest, of course. The splashing and riding up and down waves in the V-birth is very relaxing until the currents shift, the boat swings around on its anchor and the anchor gets dragged the opposite direction from which it was set. The anchor then drags on the bottom for a short time until it gets a good grip, transmitting the sound of the metal anchor on rock right up the steel anchor chain and into the forward compartment of the V-birth where I sleep. I woke up the captain in the middle of the night as he couldn't hear the anchor situation from his birth. We stepped out of the cabin to whistling wind and blowing salt water, peered around and tried to compare the position of our boat to both land and the position of the other boats next to us, with their anchor lights at the top of the mast as the only point of reference, and complicated by the reflections of the various anchor lights on the water. Tall "plastic palace" yachts, as my Uncle calls them, catch the wind and their lack of full length keels, their semi-planing hulls and lightweight make them swing wildly about as winds change direction. Heavy full displacement hulls like the Sandollar swing around their anchor much slower, but the sheer height of the pilothouse and cabins make it move too. Sailboats with deep keels and not much frontage for the wind to catch move even slower yet. When the winds blow wild from different directions like this, it gets complicated to track the position of a dozen boats swinging at different rates around their anchor in the dark. We determined all was well and went back to sleep.
Following a nice fruit crepe breakfast we motored south along the shoreline of Hornby Island, cruising about 75 feet off the coast, us on the bow photographing the neatly carved coastline and the hikers photographing us floating by. We bounced our way across the Straits of Georgia in rolling seas, which were still angry and unsettled from the previous evening. We arrived in Nanaimo at 5:00 p.m. and currently are enjoying nice warm mochas and use of the coffee shop internet connection.
Nanaimo waterfront:
Our current slip just inside the breakwater--lots of action to observe! Kayakers, boat traffic, the water taxi loaded with drunks that goes to the bar on Newcastle Island, seaplanes almost tanging in boat masts, etc.:
Hornby Island coastline:
Wednesday August 22
We left Prideaux Haven in falling rain, retrieving the stern line and hoisting the dinghy on top of the pilothouse left Trenton and I soaking wet. We made our way west-southwest and around Sara Point and traveled around the west side of Savary Island, areas of which were only 12 feet deep in some places. Through this 1/2 mile long area we kept the speed down and watched over the bow for anything that might cause us to go aground. The flat sandy bottom was reassuring, even though there wasn't much clearance between our props and the bottom. We tied onto a fishing vessel in the Ford Cove Marina on the south end of Hornby Island. We had burgers and calamari on shore, then made our way for Tribune Bay, around the corner. It was a wide bay and nearly the entire length of it seemed to be 32 feet deep, with a dozen or so other boats also anchored there. The shoreline of Hornby Island is really interesting, with dissolved sandstone shores littered with open seacaves and areas carved-out so perfectly they looked like stone dinnette sets with carved benches for seating. There were lots of kayakers circumnavigating the island, and for good reason. There is a ferry that goes from Parksville on Vancouver Island to Denman Island, then another that goes between Denman and Hornby Island. This is a must-explore area. We missed the opportunity to do the 3 mile hike to the tip of the island, something we saw at least a few dozen people doing as we were leaving.
Fishing boat in Ford Cove:
Sunset at Hornby:
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