Salt Spring Island AA Round Up 2012

Again and again the Salt Spring Island AA Round Up has proved to be the best destination for sobriety in August. This year I sailed my off shore yacht, SV Giri, to Ganges Harbour with Laura and my cockapoo, Gilbert. It was a long day Friday with a false start because of the need to replace the Yanmar diesel engine starter. After that we connected with the passes perfectly enjoying a marvellous motor under clear skies and long over due summer sunshine.

When we arrived in the evening we were just too tired from the sun and sea to go ashore. In the morning though we were up and refreshed and dinghed ashore tying up the tender at the dock before hiking up past the school to the farmer institute.

Immediately I saw Donny, my motorcycling buddy who took me off to the Oyster Festival Biker Rally a couple of years back with a number of other sober riders. What a day that was! He was looking great and just a delight to see. So many folks one meets over the years and then we connect again at these rallies and round ups.

Pre registered, Laura and I hurried in to hear the Al Anon speaker. She was real. A beautiful woman sharing her experience strength and hope. A profound tale from the very heart and soul. One minute we were laughing and the next we were crying. The human condition unfolded as she told of her journey and the man she'd travelled through life with. It reminded me of Lois, co founder of Al Anon, wife of Bill Wilson, cofounder of AA.

Another speaker spoke right from the heart with such inspiration and hope that the room seemed to resonate love, the agape kind, that which binds people and community. Then, after the applause died down we stood and said the Serenity Prayer together. The sound of birds outside could be heard as renewed in spirit we stopped to chat with old friends. Murray's tale of Kaffkaesque beaurocracy was hilarious.

What a gift it was to see Brian again. He'd been RV'ing for the last 3 months across Canada and proceeded to tell us of his adventures in Newfoundland and meetings in the prairies. We'd hugged on meeting and then he said, "This Saltspring Island Round Up is one of my milestones. I come to it because it seems to sum up the passage I've been on the year before."

He introduced me to his friend who had over 40 years of recovery and we talked of a mutual friend who will be having a cake in Palm Springs this year to celebrate his 50 years of continuous sobriety.

Laura and I headed down the hill after that, walking back to town where I got Laura some earrings to replace the ones she'd lost on the boat. We had coffee and the breakfast sandwich at TJ Bean's. Gilbert was able to sit outside by the table where he didn't fail to beg for tidbits.

Then we made our mandatory stop at the incredible bookstore. The Market has banned dogs so we considered that off limits. They have someone dog sitting from the SPCA but Gilbert is too precious to be left with strangers while we shopped. As it was the main stores of Ganges welcomed Gilbert. Mouats had the boat part I needed. We both got jacketshells at the luxury clothing store next to it. Clouds had come up and we'd not come prepared if it rained which it did for just a bit later. We were glad for them too that evening as the clouds turned a hot summer day into a cool breezy evening.

We were back in time for another Al Anon speaker who was thoroughly entertaining with a remarkable tale that began in Europe and wove it's way through the fabric of Canadian history. This scooter riding elder was a delight to hear and so uplifting.

After that we all congregated outside to wait for the lamb roast. They have lamb and pork and vegetarian chillis. Brian joined us and we chatted up a storm about RV's and travelling. Margaret appeared too and was looking so healthy. Standing in line every now and then I 'd see someone I knew and be thankful for another year together.

Then the plates were being filled to overflowing with salads and roast and just the best makings of baked potato, sour cream and bacon bits with buns and country butter. What a feast! Not much talking happened from the moment we sat down till our plates were finished. Gilbert was happy to have a taste but settled right in to cleaning the paper plates. I was off for pie and ice cream then. I was was able to carry one for Laura and a coffee for myself.

After that the Saturday night speaker came on. A troubled man indeed who told a twisted tale that made us all thankful he was here and not there. We sat outside at the back with Gilbert on a leash as required. Occasionally a 'dry' dog would go by without a leash and no master in sight.

It was dark when Laura, Gilbert and I walked down the hill, the humans swinging pen lights to let the rare passing car better see us. Thanks to Laura we found the dinghy at night. She'd taken a better fix on our proximity to the little island. The boats we'd anchored by had gone and new ones had replaced them so I was confused and glad to follow her proposed course which disclosed the GIRI nestled behind a new arrival. Good to be aboard.

Great to talk about the meetings and chatter on about old friends and reflect on previous round ups. This was Gilbert's third. I'd come many times, by car, van, motorcycle and a few times sailing over. The last time we'd tented whereas some times I'd stayed in bed and breakfasts. The funniest time was when Bill and Brian had come and Bill had forgotten to put the fly on his tent and been thoroughly rained out. Then there was the great night Bob played guitar and sang into the wee hours. It's great to be sailing but camping with the couple of hundred other people tenting certainly is a real community level of coming together.  This year there'd been some really good musicians jamming in the campground.  I was sorry we'd miss the morning spiritual speaker and the incredible music that is so much apart of Salt Spring Island.

But then it was good to weigh anchor and head up Trinicomalli Channel to catch the turn at Porlier Pass, cross Georgia Straight in a chop and arrive home in Coal Harbour late afternoon. What a great combination, sailing and a round up. But most of all it was wonderful to see such marvellous friends and hear the stories of their lives since last we'd shared.

Vancouver to Ganges Harbour, Salt Spring Island, Sailing

Laura, Gilbert and I anchored the SV GIRI, my 39.9 foot cutter rigged 13 ton steel sailboat off Jericho Beach last night. In the morning the starter gave up the ghost. I called Jim (James Geisbrecht of Jim's Marine Electrical - www.jimsmarineelectrical.com) and he was kind enough to confirm my diagnosis by listening to the sick engine sounds over the cellular. I took the diseased engine part out with the help of wrenches and screwdrivers. Gilbert, the dog, licked the sweat off my forehead. I had a back up part remaining from my last offshore cruise.

Jim was really terrific to make a house call. I was reminded of my housecall days first as a family physician and later as a psychiatrist. I picked him up in my dinghy at Jericho Beach. It was a beautiful sunny day with blue skies and light winds. The little sailboats were out in force with lots of folk paddling standing up on their surfboards and others swimming near the beach.

Gilbert barked ferociously when Jim appeared then recognising him brought him a ball convinced that I, having tired of throwing his ball, had graciously gone and brought him a fresh recruit. Jim had the new starter installed and rewired in minutes while I held the lights. (Modern engine compartments sometime in the distant future will come with lighting pre installed.) Having never installed a diesel starter I didn't know that the teeth didn't need to allign as this occurred when the starter engaged. I'd marked the wires I'd taken off so would have been able to rewire it okay myself. Without Jim this time it still would have been a challenge. In surgery we always said, "see one, do one, teach one." Now I'd seen one so soon I will be teaching starter installation.

Returning Jim to dry land I brought the Achilles dinghy with Yamaha 4hp back to tie on a long line behind the boat. Cranking over the new starter again the engine ran fine. I engaged the electric winch to pull in the anchor, then with care I avoided running over any of the children out in their training sailing boats that looked like babies in bathtubs with diapers aloft on a pole.

Low tide and lots of the sand banks were bare right out to the markers. Lots of folk and dogs playing on them. It was going to be a very hot day and everyone who could was down on the beaches of Vancouver.

I was glad my Wagner Autopilot was working good enough that I was able to plot in a course off Pt Atkinson for Porlier Pass. It's approximately 20 miles from Vancouver but the water running through the channel can make it very treacherous or impossible to go through except very near the 'turn'. The 2012 Canadian Tide and Current Tables gave me that as 5:30 pm, factoring in daylight saving. We weighed anchor at noon and pulling the dinghy at an easy 2500 rpm I was getting 4.5 to 5 knots. What great serendipity!

Laura loved the channel crossing. There was so little wind I didn't put the sails up but relied on the 'iron jenny'. Blue sky and sunshine, gentle breeze and calm blue seas all around. Great scenery of snow capped mountains in the distance. A whole lot of blue really. A large freighter came quite close and we had a really fine time just short of Porlier moseying along having arrived a bit early for the 'Turn'. On the way I'd made toast with cream cheese and honey open faced sandwiches. Gilbert and Laura had lain in the sun on deck. I'd read in the cockpit mostly wandering around the boat occasionally to do the captain thing of checking stuff. What stuff never matters. I found a line that needed fixing and fixed it. Otherwise I enjoyed a western. Laura was reading fashion magazines. Gilbert was gnawing on chews or begging with a toy in his mouth to have one of us throw it for him.

Porlier Pass was exciting but not as exciting as it's been on some occasions when I've missed the Turn and being experienced and stupid have 'shot the rapids'. Having been a white water canoeist ,doing this is like that ,but far more dangerous and not recommended. Frothing white water and great whirlpools that threaten at any moment to swallow the 40 foot 13 ton boat whole. This time the ripples on the surface and the stresses on the helm just spoke of what was waiting below for the unwary or intrepid. The lighthouses here are extremely pictuesque. Only a couple of boats were fishing in these salmon rich waters.

Trinicomalli Channel was lovely as always. A long stretch of protected water with islands on either side. One of the most beautiful of cruising channels I've enjoyed. Many's the time I've gone up or down it the whole way wing on wing as the winds can be so perfect here. Today though it was good for boating and while Laura had a shower below I began to read "The Legend of the Painted Horse" by Harry Combs, possibly one of the greatest of western writers, the author of 'Brules'. It's a joy to start a new book by a favoured author.

Before long we were coming into Ganges with the sun setting over the town. Much fewer crab pots made the passage into the anchorage area a whole lot easier than some years. Hot dogs with cheese made for an easy dinner then we were in bed enjoying the gentle motion at anchor, looking up through the hatch at the stars above. Gilbert, always the chaperone, when good night kisses are going around ,had stuffed his squirming little body between us so he could alternatively lick each of our faces. Eventually we all slept to wake this morning in absolute paradise.

I've had coffee and Laura is ready so we'll take the dinghy in town and spend the day at the Salt Spring Island AA Lamb Roast Round Up. What a great trip over thanks to Jim's help and God's Grace. Now for a day of sunshine and inspirational speakers. Spirituality is a marvellous place of soul. I love to gather with others and celebrate gratitude and focus on the positives rather than the negatives of life. Together we share our experience, strength and hope. Al Anon Family Groups is the organization of friends and family that comes everywhere as well. Now I've come to this 'Round Up' by Motorcycle, Car, and Sailboat and now Sailboat again. The organizers always make it a great time. A wonderful August weekend and destination. It's Gilbert's third year. Each year we wonder about enrolling him in a "BA" group for his ball compulsion but so far he insists that it's just a social thing. When the dog police stop him he insists he's only has 2 balls. Outsiders don't know how many he has hidden and buried.












- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Spring sailing Strait of Georgia with Gilbert

Yesterday, we left Coal Harbour catching the turn at First Narrows under the Lions Gate Bridge. Westerly wind of 10 knots on the nose, we didn't bother raising sail but motored the 2 hours round to the Deep Bay anchorage beside Snug Cove on Bowen Island.

It was just dark as we anchored. Lots of boats this long weekend and lots of new anchor buoys to confuse things adding to the clutter of crab traps. Three tries and as usual I was very thankful for the electric winch.

That was one of the first additions I made to the GIRI nearly 20 years ago when I first purchased the boat. Another place and another time I'd had to set the anchor in 80 feet with all that chain to haul and winch in a couple of times before I decided on motoring to a wholly different shallow anchorage. I was so exhausted and irritable that on reaching land I ordered this Lofranz Italian 1000 watt wonder machine which has served me so well all these years.

Gilbert spends the night in his little canvas dog house. It keeps him from pooping in the night on the boat. Nothing would lose a Captain's good will faster than stepping in wet poop in the middle of the night while running above to check some unusual sound. It works better for me but Gilbert is beginning to like his little house, actually going to lie in it during the day. I think he knows it saves him from walking the gang plank or being flogged for bowel infractions. He tires around 10 pm and after a whirlwind of puppy activity he crashes.

At 6 am he wakes. For a few moments he yawns and plays with toys then he yelps. This is my cue to donn sweats, release him from his bed, and carry him on deck. Gilbert, the great naval dog, has already learned to poop on deck, up by the anchor. There's more sniffing and turning than ashore in this new environment but eventually he settles into the task. So having peed and pooped I can take him below.

Angel the cat has followed and now wants her wet food. She's picky. It has to be Fancy Feast. Gilbert stares at her while she eats. She looks down on him enjoying her food that much more. I go back to bed. Oddly Gilbert seems to think this is play time.

Given that I couldn't get any more sleep, I weighed anchor and headed to sea. It was a beautiful sunny day with 10 to 15 knot winds from the north west. When I rounded Bowen Island I turned into the wind and raised the sails. The sleepy eyed blond was on deck too.

The Wagner Autopilot doesn't like the main sail to be all the way up but is happy with the self furling foresail being all the way out. I always think that other sailors must wonder at me having a reefed main in ideal weather. I really don't like hand steering. It interferes with having coffee, reading and stroking a cat on the lap.

Laura entertained Gilbert or held the cat the cat when I was forced to steer. We crossed the Strait doing 5.5 knots with 2000 rpm engine for charging the batteries being drawn on by the autopilot.

When we'd been about to leave on Friday, Graham and Umberto having kindly put up the netting Eric had brought us from Pocomarine, this all being necessary for the puppy's first sea voyage, the Yanmar engine failed to start. I checked for shorts then at a loss phoned James Giesbrecht to discuss the universe, electricity and best made plans of mice and men.

"I wouldn't recommend it, and certainly I'd say in court I never did recommend it or would ever do it myself, but rumor has it that sometimes with a lot of sparking and potential explosion of boats a captain has been able to hold a spanner across the solenoid and starter engine. Now if you live and there's anything left of you to complain remember I didn't ever tell you about this."

"It's alright," I said. "Tom did that on our way back from Hawaii when we'd not used the engine for a day or two and it started without Tom being blasted into nanopieces."

There were a lot of sparks. A whole lot of sparks. A veritable closed space Celebration of Fire fireworks display. When I'd stood on deck pressing the starter and Tom was where I was now, he expressed some amaze but being an engineer and lacking poetry had not fully apprised me of the sheer wonder of being next to the Big Bang moment. I was glad it was diesel in the bilge and not gasoline and thankful my shirt didn't catch flame. Yes, Laura was on deck, with Gilbert and Angel. As she pressed the starter I jumped the engine, loving that rumble of first life as the Yanmar became sentient all over again.

Now I was glad the engine had started in the morning and wasn't taking any chances on the batteries not having a lot of juice. I needed to replace or rebuild the starter and solenoid since Jim thinks needing to jump it's means it's old and worn. Since I'm old and worn too maybe I could use with a spanner.

Muddling navigation brought me to Porlier Pass right at the 'turn'. This is thoroughly astonishing to me. When I began sailing I plotted everything out and calculated distances and ETA's. For years I was wholly obsessive about this. Today I get up because the dog wakes me, leave because he won't stop playing, muddle with coffee and sails and aim roughly at the islands across the strait and repeatedly end up where I'm supposed to be on time. I wish I'd known it was this easy so I'd not have been so regimentally obsessive that first decade.

Porlier pass was quiet with no rapids to speak up but the under surface whirlpools pulled at the steering nonetheless. Then it was Trinicomalli Channel. Laura was happy with this. She'd felt sea sick on this crossing. It turned out she was dehydrated and felt right as new when I plied her with Santa Cruz organic gingerale, God's gift to sailors.

Gilbert had upchucked once when a big boat passed fast and close causing us to lurch back and forth. This didn't bother him much at all. He was more upset that we wouldn't let him eat his vomit.

In the protected Trinicomali Channel it was hard staying awake to keep watch on all the other sailboats enjoying this favoured pleasant sailing stretch.

Blue Water Cruising Association was having it's spring rendezvous in Bedwell Harbor on South Pender Island. We'd been planning on joining this being members and enjoying the meeting of boats with the beach fesitivities.

Yet here was Ganges Harbour and Bedwell would be another 2 hours cruising. We opted for Ganges. Maybe we'd continue on. I thought I needed more fuel too. Nearly bashing a big white cruiser, the owner and his gorgeous mate, were generously pleasant as I pushed my floating boat away from them with my fending pole to tie up at the Ganges Marina Fuel Dock. As it turned out I only needed 10 gallons and much to my discontent and surprise the Ganges Marina Fuel Dock no longer allowed us to fill up the water tank which was down as I later found out only 10 gallons as well. Not only that the marina was full up.

Salt Spring Marina attached to the best restaurant Moby's was also full but the delightful folk there were hopeful they'd have a slip the next day. I was content to anchor and then the tiredness set in. I had the dinghy overboard and the motor on but then when everything was ready I had a shower and rather than going ashore lay down to nap.

Laura was happy to read and later made a magnificent steak meal which we ate watching the ridiculous Land of the Lost video starring Will Ferrell.

Gilbert was already asleep at 10 when I crawled into the V berth so Angel the cat could use me as her bed.

This morning Gilbert yelped. I took him on deck. He peed and pooped. Another exciting sailing day began.

I don't have any more time or room to write now but I will tell you later about the blood letting battle with the pirates, the mermaids coming out of the sea, the sea monsters and the alien space ship inhabited with lizards wanting to eat human flesh.

Winter Underwater at Ganges

Winter underwater at Ganges Harbour is cold and dark and miserable. I knocked the trombone bit off the dorade box when I launched the dinghy. First time I rescued it before it sought the ocean floor. The wood where the screws had mounted it had become mushy so I had only to turn it a bit and remount it with new drill holes. Before I did that though, the next day, I knocked it overboard when I was cleaning the deck of mollusk shells that had fallen off the bottom of the boat. For anyone who has lost something over the side of sailboats, and I've lost wrenches, screwdrivers, cups and outboard engines, there's that sad moment when one watches as the item sinks out of sight, gone to Davy Jones Locker, like a lost friend.

But I have a wet suit on board, albeit a summer wet suit, not the winter wet suit I have in storage or the dry suit I have in storage. But a wet suit. And flippers and goggles and snorkel. I slipped into tights and tshirt, donned the wet suit, doing contortions with the zipper on the back, climbed in the dinghy, got on the flippers and mask and snorkle, then rolled over the side. Darkness and cold greeted me as I reversed direction and porpoised back to the surface and scrambled into the dinghy. Now that was a stupid idea I thought! Time to rethink.

I checked the depth sounder 20 feet. I found my dive light. Battery needed recharging. I found my buddy air bottle and filled it from my main tank, missing my BCG and finding only a few tank weights I could use to counter my own buoyancy. I jury rigged a grossly inadequate weight belt.

A few hours later when the sun was still up and I couldn't put it off any longer, I donned the still damp gear and with yellow buddy air bottle and dive lamp I set out. I'd also hung a rope over the side of the boat with a weight that I could follow to the ground and use for bearing for search. Well, the water was just as cold but I sucked air from the buddy bottle kicking down with ears refusing to equalize but finally reaching the bottom thankful for the white rope. The darkness at the bottom was still really dark despite the dive light. I looked quickly around from the rope, maybe 10 feet circumference, irritated by my lack of counter buoyancy and astonished by the dark and cold. It was even scarey.

In a matter of seconds, I concluded the little trumpet end for the dorade box, could be replaced cheaply at Poppy's Second Hand Marine. I certainly didn't need fresh air funneling through the cabin right now. They're a hot climate item. I basically wasn't happy at all doing this. Indeed I was already feeling better heading to the surface. In the dinghy I was very happy. I was even happier in the hot shower. Maybe tomorrow I thought.

Today, it's windy in the harbor and choppy. Definitely worse conditions for diving. I can't believe I did my advanced and rescue Padi training in these conditions. Yes, I had the proper equipment and great instructors from Granville Island. What I have on board right now is only for emergencies such as fouled rudder. I'll have to get my weightbelt, BCG and winter wet suit from the storage locker. Still.

If one is going to go diving it's far better to do it in the Northern Mariana Islands. Now there's the place to drop something over the side of a sailboat, just to have the excuse to go diving.