In Hot Pursuit

Wow! I’m getting more and more like the old neutered tomcat, curled up and lazing in the sun and doing very little — including the occasional update on the blog. But here we go.

Len and Ursula, friends from Sidney, were to join us at Campbell River after Chad, Angie and the boys left, for a bit of time on a power boat. They had had a number of sailing vessels in the past, and as they were presently between boats had given some thought to a power boat. Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. But I get ahead of myself. While we were awaiting their arrival at Discovery Harbour I recognized a sailboat plying its way down our fairway, Paul and Christie, aboard Shearwater. We made arrangements to get together and before Len and Ursula could arrive down the fairway came Compromise with Chris and Jerry. With the arrival of Len and Ursula we all gathered at the pub for a dandy meal and visit. Seemed like an old Port Sidney rendezvous.

The following day brought forecasts of nasty winds for the Strait of Georgia and we had prepared ourselves for yet another day at the dock, but we awoke to flat calm water and zero winds. This is not all that unusual, but the weather reports still called for nasty winds rated gale force. We dithered around for a while trying to make up our minds what to do and decided to take the plunge, and thus we headed north through Seymour Narrows. Good call, as the day stayed dandy, and the water flat. We carried on towards Nodales Channel, where the majority of the fishing seemed to be taking place, as Len was most hopeful of getting some splendid fishing input from a seasoned pro such as myself. Well you note that I said "fishing" before, and not "catching" and as we joined all the small fish boats from Painters Lodge and April Point, we spent the remainder of the day drowning bait, along with the rest of the boats. On the plus, at least we didn’t have to make our living off our catch and tomorrow is another day.

The AM arrived, along with the sun, and we made our way along Nodales towards Sonora Point, still in pursuit of finny creatures, and oh yes, the nasty weather that was to happen the previous day found its way to the Strait and Discovery Passage. A good call leaving the dock when we did, as we would have had yet another day tied tight. Not to worry where we were, as Nodales and Cordero are well protected from the prevailing winds. It seems that the fish had little concern as to having protected water, as once again we could not entice a fish into keeping us company. Now there were quite a number of boats fishing Codero Channel above Dent rapids and once again we joined the pack — to no avail. A small boat next to us had a bite, a small rock fish which he promptly threw back. Stated that he had been fishing hard for a week and that was his first hit. Such is fishing and I am certain that Len truly appreciated the lesson in humility by getting skunked. Of course we tried just a bit too long to boat a fish, so that our passage through Dent rapids and the Yucultas left a little to be desired. Dent was manageable but there is a spot on the Yucultas where the current flows across the channel on a flood. That’s where we were — an instant change in direction of some 90 degrees. The channel is reasonably wide at this point, which allowed us to recover our direction and carry on through. Does grab your attention though. There was a smaller boat at anchor just below this frenzied water, and I assumed him to be fishing the turbulence. In fact he was likely a local, parked there to watch the faces and the antics of the tourists as they plied there way through.

Once we had the rapids all behind us, we headed off to Waddington Channel in Desolation Sound, where we had it on good authority that there were prawns and oysters to be had. A great opportunity to show Len that there are a number of ways to snag seafood. We thumped our way towards Waddington, taking the last of the Strait of Georgia’s nasties of the beak, but the trip was not all that long, and the water was laying down. Made Waddington in time to have yet another batch of food and some tasty grape and throw the pick for the night. The next day brought clear skies and flat water although the weather reports did not bode so well and our intention was to make Nelson Island that night and Pender Harbour the following day. We did have lots of time and took a pause to drop my four prawn traps and  then dinghy ashore for a batch of fresh oysters. The oyster hunt was excellent, but once again we would have been better off to use Bonnie’s bait for the prawns. Six prawns, four people — let  me see, even though the prawns were a good size this hardly makes a meal, but the traps are up and we are heading south, or southeast ,or what ever direction it is. Now things are good untill about the time we hit Lund. Although the day had darkened, and the rain was pelting down with enthusiasm, the gale force winds didn’t seem to find us untill just south of Lund and about the time we were thinking seriously about finding a hidy-hole to wait it out the water settled down considerably, and we plodded onward. Now this was actually a trick, for as we made our way south of Powell River the winds returned, with increased vigor and the rain continued unabated. Of course by this time we are about equal distance from Nelson Island and Powell River, we chose to carry on. Now that’s an oops, for about this time the windshield wiper that you might recall I had previously doctored in Matheson Channel decided that enough was enough, and promptly quit. This was of course the wiper for the helm windshield, which brought my visibility to approximately zero. As I could no longer see the direction of the waves I could no longer quarter them, and as a result took a couple on the beam. The resulting pitching and rolling launched a few items from the cupboards and off the counter and at this point Bonnie chose to remember one other time I made a slight error in judgement crossing the Strait of Georgia. Golly, she sometimes has a problem remembering yesterday, but one minor mistake eight years ago ??? We did manage to make Blind Bay, unscathed, as darkness closed in upon us

Our trek down the mainland side of the Strait had a purpose as Len and Ursula have good friends at Pender Harbour and Bonnie and I were on our way to a birthday celebration for our old buddy Art, at Gibsons. The glitch in the system was that Gibsons marina could only accommodate us for one night. Len and Ursula to the rescue as their friends at Pender just happened to have dock space, with power, with water, — how great is that. Not only do we now have a place to park our boat, but they have offered the use of their second vehicle so Len and Ursula can shuttle us down to Gibsons. Add to this the fact that Ryan and Sue are really nice people and very hospitable. We spent a very nice evening together where the grape flowed freely and Len prepared a most savory pasta, and we added some purchased prawns to our delectable six — plus — Sue had a most tasty recipe for oysters, so we managed to scarf down a bucket of the beasties. Even Bonnie ate several, not enough to put a sparkle in her eye, but several more than she would have normally consumed.

And now to the party and Art’s big 70. Jimmy Anderson, a trapper, rancher and bush pilot from our other life in the frozen North, once stated in his autobiography, "that had I known that I was going to live this long, I would have taken much better care of myself". Now this can probably apply to a number of us, but not Art. He is probably in as good condition now as he was thirty years ago and I am certain that he has no intention of being measured for his dirt vest until he has turned every tree he can find into firewood. Now this not only keeps him in good shape but as Confusious says " he who cuts his own firewood warms himself twice" Now that is Sammy Confusious, from the corner store — not that other guy.Given Art’s disposition and gene pool, he may well carry on into the next century. But the party was great, and gave us the opportunity to to get together with old friends, many of whom we had not seen for a number of years.

The following day our trusty travel guides, Len and Ursula came back down to Gibsons to chauffeur us back to Pender and our boat. It was time to say adieu as they made their way to Powell River and the ferry to Comox, where their own car was waiting. A great trip — no fish but great company and good times, plus we never starved.

More to follow.