I read every book on off shore sailing. We had lots of trouble docking. Each problem we encountered was associated with major trauma then a new solution and we moved on. The first time we encountered ‘pea soup’ fog we couldn’t get back into harbour until we followed a fishing boat back to dock. She’d had to stand on the bow to direct me at the helm because we could only see 20 feet ahead. We bought a radar and had it installed.
We sailed to Desolation Sound. The anchor wouldn’t catch in 80 feet of water. I hauled 80 feet of chain in and let it out 3x before giving up. We next got an electric anchor winch. Eventually the whole boat had been replaced except the hull and mast, everything brought up to the latest off shore standards.
Along with all our new friends in the blue water sailing community we were preparing to go to Mexico. There was a ‘program’ for this which included sailing to Desolation Sound, Circumnavigating Vancouver Island and then sailing to Queen Charlotte Islands. Once each of these hurdles had been made we would be ready to undertake the southern journey. Meanwhile each weekend we’d head out to Bowen Island or Nanaimo bay to anchor for the weekend and enjoy the true glory of the west coast. Noghtsailing,escaping the city, anchoring in the dark then waking in heaven, bald headed eagles, seals, Canad Guess, eucalyptus trees and spruce. We’d sleep at anchor then wake to make heat breakfasts before lying in sun on deck reading.
Trips to Victoria Harbour for a week and back were especially enjoyable. The navigation to the lights at night was something else at first. Everything was terrifying then we’d have the skill set and move on. Weekends in Salt Spring Island were wonderful. Shinto the dog was always a terrific companion. I’d stow the dinghy on deck, throw it over in the water and row or motor ashore. We’d have great hikes on the gulf islands with the dog. We’d enjoy the farmers markets on the islands and shop in the little craft stores.
We’d had the autopilot installed so once we were out of English Bay we simply pointed the boat, set the auto pilot, then opened a bottle of wine and lit up a joint. This really was idyllic.
She and I had got along fine when we were building a homestead and raising chickens. Together we became off shore sailors and coastal cruisers. She was a wonderful helmswoman. The two of us surmounted every obstacle and really worked together and overcame all that the sea and coast threw at us those years. We also learned to manage energy, solar panels, wind generators, generators, and then we became proficient in VHS radio, single side band and eventually Ham radio. Lots of courses. Lots of reading. Calculations and study at night. I became a ship’s captain with all the tickets and a log to prove the skills and competence. Meanwhile I managed a full time practice while she worked at the hospital.
We also hunted in spring and fall and sailed black diamond through the winter at Whistler.
Lots of sailing and Lots of anchoring with Canada geese coming to visit, dolphins liking to ride the bow waves, Orca’s swimming under the boat, eagles catching salmon, crab fishing, salmon fishing, catching long cod. It was incredible. We’d have problems with finding permanent places to dock. We had 6 months in False Creek then had to move. That would be the pattern moving from dock to dock and feeling a bit like gypses. We’d really enjoy our time on the Fisherman’s Ward. It was so enjoyable fighting to the market and out for dinners at False Creek Restaurants. We’d have years at the Fisherman’s Dock then across the harbour by Yaletown and even some time in Coal Harbout.
We’d drive the Vanagon across Canada to visit my family, all the way to Toronto and Ottawa. Seeing the nephews. Connecting. Then back again to living in a boat in summer and winter. I’d hunt in the Vanagon and skin and butcher deer I shot in the Vanagon. We’d take the Vanagon down to California. These were the activities of the years from age 36 to 40. They blur together.
Each year we’d haul the boat up and scrape and paint the bottom. Every event has its Murphy Laws. Tide Grid’s and the boat settling wrong so extra lines to mast to stop it slipping off. Frenzied scraping and painting between tided. Changing zincs. Usually two of us sometimes three. We’d then begin the steady almost weekly grind of the sailing, always terrified at the challenges of docking. Close hauled sailing in storms. Fair winds and falling seas. We had a ‘fixed’ schedule because of work so had to face the wind and weather. Couldn’t ‘wait’ so sailed in all the fine or inclement weather to get back to dock to be at work on Monday. We left on Friday and returned on Sunday. IF there was a storm we went through it because we were learning to sail in all conditions. This was the coastal sailinga nd we would one day have to sail off shore. So we faced each challenge. It was idyllic.
The West coast was amazing. We were truly blessed. We were in love these years and enjoying the constant learning, the constant growing and the wonderful time sailing and anchoring. I love boat world. I love anchoring. I love sailing. I love the challenges and the travails. I even loved a whole lot of people we met in this world. There were problems but overall these were good years. She was such a comrade in arms though in the background re was always the insaniety of the mother the depressed and now increasingly suicidal father and dementia.
In my practice I was focussed on psychotherapy specializing in treating borderline personality disorder and childhood trauma .I had remarkable patients I saw weekly, often for a year or two of long term instense therapy. I treated a half dozen multi millionaires there. That had a lot to do with location and a great referral base. I also saw a half dozen Olympic athletes. I had referrals from the heads of medicine, heads of family medicine and a variety of elite resources, mostly word of mouth. I saw movie stars, producers and rock stars and models. It was a very high end practice. I especially enjoyed the young geniuses. Students from UBC and SFU would come to me because they were failing and soon be getting A’s. I liked the patients who passed masters and PhD degrees and never thought they could make it. I was distracted by sailing and the learning I was doing there so was rather low key in my practice moving at the speed of my patients not pushing them, laid back West Coast, and at night I’d drink wine and smoke dope.
We’d make love. She loved to make love then. The boat turned her on. The rocking motion, the fresh air, the clothes optional. We were fit and in shape. In summer I just wore a sarong or cut off shorts. It was fit and fun frolicking. She was supposed to be getting pregnant though that never happened.
We had the liveaboards problem all pervasive diesel smell. It got into clothes we’d ring fm the laundromat. We never seemed to get away from it. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell for us, kind of normal, but every once in a while when we’d got dressed up to go out we noticed others noticed that we had this distinctiveness. Boat world. We had friends over for dinner , parties on the boat. We took friends sailing with us for weekends. Lots of guitar and folk music. Wonderful stereo and great west coast music piped outside. Dancing on deck. She loved to let lose to rock and roll but never could master basic ballroom despite my attempts to teach her to follow. She was always competing always wanting to lead but reluctant about learning specific skills or practicing something alone. I was a dancer and I’d take the boat ou alone or with a male friend but she refused to go out alone or with a girlfriend. As a feminist she reserved the writer to be a constant critic and competitor but she’d never make the necessary step to have the competence and confidence to captain. We’d befriend women who’d solo sail and offer to take her out with them but she refused. I never could rely on her in the way I could with others who’d moved beyond crew to being able to alternate as Captain. This was a dangerous issue because she refused to follow directions and yet did not do that extra work or training to be accredited. Her problem with moving things and idiosyncratic behaviour required me to label all the cabinets and have the coast guard and other skippers come aboard to correct her when she was having what really were dangerous temper tantrums messing with machinery and safety features on the boat.
“I don’t care what the Coast guard says or what the. Circumnavigating solo sailor says I like it my way.” Was a dangerous combination and yet at first it was only occasiona these self destructive emotional orgies usually after a bad encounter with the mother or too much drugs and alcohol. I was steady and had a life time of boating and wilderness whereas she was a Shaughnassey girl often with delusion of grandeur and a problem with cocaine, alcohol and drugs. Cooperative behaviour and hierarchies is a skill set. I a good captain and a good assistant but could no done on her in lots of situations. Then she’d utterly surprise me and be the truly most amazing companion as we’d battle our boat through a storm. We had some harrowing helping imes shooting rapids and riding through Skookumchuck. These times when she’d be ‘on’ and I could rely on her and she rose to the occasion and we were working as a team without all the attitude were transcendent. Just thinking of Devils Gap I remember her ok a heroine at the helm while I nursed the engine to keep us going against fickle wind and current past the most frightening of ship swallowing ‘devils holes”. Sailing wing on wing all day down a channel with her managing the helm with supreme Grace was a joy to behold . Next her m ins would occur and the rage and pouts and living in this,little space . I’d escape with the dog in the dinghy and turn hours later hoping she was safe not knowing what to expect, weeks of walking on egg shells around her latest mood. I’d smoke a joint and have a glass of wine and try to be chill but she was commonly emotionally loud. D never understand this because we were in heaven. She’d so often not be there but back with her mother or holding a resentment against some female colleague she felt slighted her. Then we’d have peace and I d be serving her the latest fish I caught, enjoying her happiness and peace.
We had trouble with ‘what a bout Bob’ a disturbed man who invaded our world having no life to speak of of their own and always showing up on our doorstep. He’d become a friend mostly because he was a social bully. He loved her and was envious of me. Judgemental to the max. But a character.. I tolerated loners who gravitated to the accepting tolerant psychiatrist but wolf o to beat lgnths always trying to ‘sell’ ther paranoia or ‘depression’. I believed Sunshine came from within. Now I’d be with two depressives on the boat at time and wearied by their negativity. My other friend, almost Pollyanna, in his outlook would sometimes join us and I’d watch the clashes as these friends would now try to sell each other competing views.
As a psychiatrist I had this capacity to tolerate the tension of opposites. As Christian and spiritual person with the assistance of mellowing wine and joints I was simply amused when I had competing political and religious views on board. I provided wine and fish and moose and fed and dined a wide variety of folk, Christians, Jews, aetheists, pagans, war mongers and peace Nike but to me barbecuing or passing a bottle it was just folk selling their world views, pushing their opinions. The egomaniacs and megalomaniacs,would spar and I’d smoth ruffled feathers and everyone would want to be a guest at our often “weekly soirées. She was a delightful host. But increasingly she would not stand with me saying no to the more insane or addicted, the takers, the soul suckers. There was no reciprocity with these men and they lusted after her and she’d encourage their praise but they were there for the ‘free booze’, the “meals”: my cooking. Repeatedly I’d beg to to say no to these people ho made me feel I was never off work. The coke addicts were the worst but the alcoholic ex policeman and the University of Toronto coke addict theif. She took an evil pleasure in my discomfort, wanting to have my home after a long day of dealing with insaniety and she’d be here with these “taker” men and she’d have her entourage and I’d be Night after night stuck with her drunken stupid entourage, these “party folk” without a neutron to rub between them and all consumer mentality. Over and over I’d ask her not to invite them but there as always excuses. I’d say I had work to do but she’d say ‘just come aboard, we can have a joint, open a bottle, don’t mind Bill’.
I had another friend I enjoyed who built his own sailboat. We se Competnent accomplished men and women about but she’d always want id later learn were “lower companions” and she didn’t like my doctor friends or the women I knew who were mothers especially the ethnic doctor friends whose conversations of family excluded her and she want to join in the male doctor talk rather than staying w th female doctors. D had all here major accomplished friends who’s wit and charm and humor I’d so enjoyed but more and more she surrounded me with the drunks and addicts and this was my home and d sa n and she’d say yes.
I had my friend from childhood. Everyone was different and unusual. I was writing. Some articles and poetry and playing guitar and writing songs. We’d a dock band of sorts. I loved the Friday night party which was a routine but hated these leeches being their during the week. I’d turn them away saying I’d need to study or needed to write but she’d invite them aboard if I wasn’t there and there’s no getting a drunk to leave while he has an open bottle, the other fellow a loner had no home to go and she’d be like this dock mom lust object and I’d not understand how she’d not stand with me even when I’d say very rudely you’ve got to go and she’d countermand it getting some weird thrill out of the divide and conquer and undermining my need for sleep on days when she didn’t work the next day and I did.
The boat world was very unusually characters.These entourage of low life she enjoyed were often people I paid to do a job which would then be delayed till I came home from work so they could combine their work and social life at my expense, I’d tak to these workers explain clearly they couldn’t be in my home at night and needed to do the work before we arrived but they were sociopaths, many of them in retrospect, and sh as drunk and stone and borderline and would not accept we had to be a combined front. For one year at least it was like living with teen ages.
Others in the boat world with interesting neighbours. Lots of eccentricities. Lots of single men with limited social skills and good boat skills. We’d work together. Couples like us attracted these loners. They had such rough edges and were so incredibly sensitive. It was a lot of work being around these single men but she and I when comfortable with each other had some experiences. There was a major problem with ‘workmen’. They’d make major disruptions to our ‘home’ and then would hang round to be invited for dinner. They’d drink our wine and smoke our dope and literally take a long time and do poor work that had to be re done. This is a particular west coast sociopath character. There was always more work than available for the good workers and the rich yachts could pay whatever for work so there was this constant struggle with ‘help’ It was the real downside of boating. I’d do as much work as I could but every new addition would require bringing in help and so often these were sordid characters. There were solo female ships captains and other wives and I was popular with everyone cultivating friendships with other doctors and circumnavigating sailors, business owners, but she would not make friends with the amazingly accomplished boat owner women or the wives but was fixated at that early adolescent girl with the boys phase. She didn’t have girlfriends and whereas in my previous marriage we’d always entertained as family and friends she never nurtured relationships with the women though ai could see they would have been open to it. Instead she’d insist on these drunken single guys.
She liked this one fellow because he had been to University of Toronto. The fact was he was a cocaine addict and she and he became best of friends while he was using his working on our boat to serve him as a base to steal from a half dozen of our neighbours. A week or two into this experience which she’d been so enjoying a neighbour told me about his ‘gig’. Lots of arguments when I wanted him gone and then they had the power because they’d leave work half finished. If there was a workman sociopathic trick we learned it. That said we had some great experiences.
We everntually sifted through the riff raft, the dregs having latched onto us early in our career. We were so scared. New big boat. Engine problems rigging problems. We’d have everything that could go wrong go wrong. Then we’d be dependent on someone who ‘knew’ and a whole lot of people who “don’t know claim to know. Because we were working ,she in a regular hospital based job and me in a fixed private practice mainly psychotherapy with time and demands it was really difficult interfacing with what were often near barbarians. The social skills of so many of these low level workers was frightening. Then we’d graduate to the next level and leave behind the riff raff as we learned that they didn’t know and met those who did. We really were rescued by my befriending a Maori who’d sailed here from New Zealand. He transformed our coastal sailor to an offshore sailor and didn’t hav baggage of addiction, personality disorder, or depression and paranoia, I loved his company and enjoyed his outlook and learned so much sailing and working with him. I was always working with the guys knowing I needed to learn a skill in case I’d need to solve a problem offshore. She never grasped the idea of independence so took a dilettante approach to the hard work of learning life saving matters. She’d learn some things while losing interest with others. I was learning everything and thankful for my Maori find who was a great teacher compared to several of the fellows who didn’t want to She their limited skills as this was their liveliihood meanwhile all where using my psychiatric and medical skills and knowledge being in my company, often draining , demanding and soul sucking. By contrast the Maori was a breath of fresh air who fell in love with my friends native daughter and it was just a great time his fresh breeze blowing way the dying addicts who he as a man had no time for. So together we overruled my partner who could rise to the occasion but clung so desperately at times to the addicts.
We’d meet Eric at Stevenston’s Marine and Steveston’s Marine itself would help. Suddenly we had this honorable man guiding us. We’d get great advice. He’d sailed with his partner to Hawaii and back and worked in parts. D make a life long friend with him from this time and our time together in Blue Water Sailing Association. Slowly but surely we sorted out who really knew and who could be trusted. I loved those people I’d eventually know who were the back bone of the industry. Our lives depended on the work that people did and by the time we actually did go offshore we had a truly skookum boat.
The New Zealand Maori after he sailed into Harbour across the Pacific would worke for us for the next three months putting finishing offshore touches on our boat. Rewired the whole ship to make it accessible. My depressive aspergers Christian friend was doing skookum work then too though he was always so emotionally loud my Maori friend was bright and shining. It was an amazing time.
I loved the fishing and sailing. There is nothing like anchoring in a secluded harbour and living and loving the weekend away. I can’t expresss the joy of the west coast sailing and the love we knew on decks, below decks, in gang ways. We were young and alive and life was good. I especially loved our times in Victoria Harbour. Fine restaurant dining, shopping and then heading back out in the ocean and taking ourselves back to Vancouver. I loved being able to go anywhere on my own. I loved that sense that I could leave at any moment and head anywhere in the world. I loved the sheer freedom. Yet we were loving our lives, enjoying our work, having this incredible life. It was indescribable but of course I was writing and photographing and making movies trying to do just that, describe this little bit of heaven. Mostly when we were alone together, way from the dock, away from her family, away from our work, we were happy kids knowing the joys of west coast living accomplishing so much in so little time,
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