At high tide on the afternoon of July 23, 2018 we launched the RASCAL into the mouth of the Nickomekl River, for the launch of NO ORDINARY SEAMAN into the hands of readers on the southern Gulf Islands. The former is my friend’s MacGregor 26; the latter is my newly published nautical memoir.

 

I am now back at sea again, at the helm of a small sailboat, crossing the Salish Sea with friends, Captain BD (Brian) and Chief Mate van Herb. This vessel is smaller than the lifeboats on the deep-sea freighter that I steered through these waters many years ago.

The sun burns hot from a cloudless blue sky, and everything is reflected from the cold smooth ocean. We are becalmed, motoring on a southwest course across the strait from Crescent Beach to Whaler Bay. I am on a mariner’s book tour courtesy of Brian, who suggested that No Ordinary Seaman would be a great sell in the marinas and bookstores on the Gulf Islands during the summer months with all the pleasure boats stopping for fuel, supplies, and in search of nautical books to read. I took him up on the idea, commandeered his boat, and here we are.

 

Port #1  Monday

Active Pass is in view now, but we will navigate through there tomorrow. We round Gossip Island and pull into Whaler Bay for the night. This is at the southeast end of Galiano Island. As we make our way we are careful to steer clear of Seal Rocks at the mouth of this protected bay.

The rocks are not hard to miss because their craggy tops are dry at high tide. There are no lazy seals lounging on them this late in the afternoon.

 

Our berth at the government dock awaits. We tie up and are soon grilling steaks on the small barbecue unit that is attached to the aft rail. A glass of good red wine is in the hands of each carnivore as we chew on the tender beef.

 

After many exchanges of rather tame sea stories, we bunk down in challenging quarters – in the forepeak  (very tight quarters under the bow deck).

 

Good grief, I am thinking, half a year after full hip replacement, should I be performing the contortionist sleeping position in  of a 26-foot sailboat? And worse, the predictable two or three in the morning salination of the already salty sea will require exiting through the forward hatch, located between my knees and my ankles. For the most part, these challenges were overcome during the tour with no mishaps other than a sore neck for a few days after returning home.

Morning comes early with the sun beating through the open hatch. We are soon hiking up the road toward Sturdies Bay where I am expected Galiano Island Bookstore .

 

 

 

Rob takes a few of my books, then we have a leisurely homemade scone and coffee breakfast right next door at the Sturdies Bay Bakery & Café.

 

A nice long walk in the shaded woods eats up time while we wait for slack tide when the waters are at rest in Active Pass: there is no way we are taking our small boat through there when the currents are running, whirlpools and all.

 

Just before departure I sell a book off the stern of the RASCAL to a local, whose friendly curiosity lands him a terrific nautical read, authored by this writer from White Rock.

It’s way cool going through Active Pass just a couple of feet off the water, rather than the couple of hundred feet higher from the deck of the Sprit of Vancouver, the Coastal Inspiration, or other ferry that usually takes me to Swartz Bay or Long Harbour. 

From this level, the ferries seem to own the channel. Their passing is frequent, they are imposing. BD tracks them on his marine GPS and radio.

 

 

 

Port #2  Tuesday

Montague Harbour, on the other side of Galiano, comes into view off our starboard bow mid-afternoon. It is busy with boats – berthed, and at anchor. We have burned a lot of fuel motoring all this distance, so we top up our tanks then idle over to our assigned dock space, the last finger available.

 

 

I am just about to crack open a cold beer on this pleasurably hot afternoon when Amanda appears, asking me if I am able to come and meet Mike now, her boss, about my books for the Marina General Store.

 

Mike Byzyna is the owner/operator of Montague Harbour Marina. He takes eight books and pays me cash. I am thrilled about his interest, and he is delighted to talk with a local author.

 

 

Later that evening, we walk up to the Crane and Robin where my choice of meal was the chef’s spectacular seafood pasta, perfectly paired with a glass of Sea Star Pinot Grigio (Pender Island Winery).

 

 

On our way back to the boat, I drop into the General Store. Mike has a mini bookstore in the corner, and there sits No Ordinary Seaman, not on the shelf all by itself, but bookended between my writing teacher/editor, Sylvia Taylor’s books. Who’d have thought …?

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are leaving Galiano now and head for Pender Island. Still no wind. We motor past Parker Island, then Prevost Island. More ferries cause us to alter our course. These big, bulky boats are functional, not sleek ships with nice lines, but from this point of view I do find them rather majestic.

In the moment, I have mixed feelings about them: a kind of pride as a citizen of our spectacular coastal province that they serve so well, moving locals through these breathtaking waterways between communities where they live and work. The decks are shared with fellow passengers – tourists – international visitors, spellbound at the sights. I marvel at the sheer power of these boats, their efficiency, and the skills of the officers on the bridge who navigate our tricky waters. But I am also feeling disappointed that the ferry passengers cannot buy No Ordinary Seaman in the onboard gift shop. So far, I have been rejected by the BC Ferries agents – The Media Group because their policy prohibits them from purchasing works from self-published authors – something about fulfillment/supply issues. Shunned for now. Their loss, I say.

 

Port #3  Wednesday

Port Browningon North Pender Island. Weather is still holding. Wow! Cloudless turquoise sky again, hot, yet marine temperate. Perfect. There always seems to be enough wind in these little bays to fill a sail, but not enough to hoist the cloth in the more open channels and inter-island passages we traverse. Now why is that? Maybe tomorrow.

Last week, in preparation for this launch, I did my research and contacted the bookstores and marinas that we would be visiting. They were all keen on seeing me.

Today we are trekking up to Talisman Books and Gallery, my backpack heavy with lots of copies of a good read. Our 3-man crew comprised the last lunch customers at Jo’s Place before the 2 pm closing time. I highly recommend the oyster burger

 

Annie at Talisman did not disappoint. I emptied my backpack. She wrote me up the usual consignment contract, then the three of us meandered back down to the marina along the hot paved road through the forest, stopping along the way in the shady curves to pick lush wild blackberries.

 

Back at the RASCAL we were invited aboard Tim and Lisa‘s beautiful old cruiser, the SEA ERA l, for a beverage. I autographed a copy of No Ordinary Seaman for Tim – another one sold off the back of our boat, as it were.

 

It is day four now and we finally have the sails up. We are doing a steady 4 knots in Plumper Sound. What a pleasure not to have the constant din of the motor in our ears. Peace and tranquility with the soothing sound of the sea kissing our hull. We are cutting effortlessly through the choppy waters with Pender behind us and Saturna Island beckoning. Under sail in such peaceful waters it is easy to lose one’s thoughts. The briny smell of the sea. The thin braided wires of the rigging playing tunes as they ping against the aluminum mast. Puffs of wind ruffle the sails. Oh, oh. Not a good sign. We have lost our wind.

 

Port # 4  Thursday

Lyall  Harbour at Saturna Point is where the inter-island ferry docks. We will be tying up just a short distance from the ferry slip. There are only two ferries a day, and we will not see one for a few hours so there is lots of room to manoeuvre the little RASCAL into a tight space – the only one available.

We make room for our boat after a small, friendly adjustment to the mooring of a large skiff tied into the space of two berths. Our stern just clears the yellow painted stripe that marks one end of the place reserved for  SEAPLANE.  As soon as our bow, stern, and spring lines are taut, off I go with my backpack again, in search of the variety store. The floating dock is rocking and rolling just a little underfoot, less stable than the decks of the small sailboat that has been our home for a few days.

 

 

The store is just up ahead, only a foot-passenger’s walk from the ferry terminal.

 

 

 

 

Donna greets me inside, remembering me from our phone call last week. She studies the front and back cover and flips through the pages of this great new maritime memoir. She takes my last copies and mounts them in a single volume display cradle right on the sales counter, and also, stood upright on the bookshelf at the entry to the store. Pat Carney – ex journalist, MP, Senator, author, and Saturna Island resident – had her award-winning book on display in these very same spots. Now my not-yet-award-winning book occupies this pride of place. I am thinking, okay, BC Ferries doesn’t have it on their shelves but the couple of dozen passengers who pour off the Saturna ferry, twice a day will be coming into this store, and my book will be the first thing thy see. Hah.

 

 

My shipmates and I climb the hill up to the Wild Thyme Coffee House– an old 1963 double decker bus transformed into a funky eatery in the woods.

Aliah, the proprietor – it is her birthday today – greets us with a welcoming smile. We order a wholesome sandwich and healthy homemade cookies.

Further on up East Point Road in the blistering heat we arrive at the market where I hook up with old friends, Peter and Heather.

 

 

They drive me back down the road to the pub for a couple of thirst-quenching pints where we talk about island life, and about me flogging my book around the Gulf Islands. I left my sailing buddies behind to do their own thing.

 

 

Tonight’s dinner at the Lighthouse Pub – seafood again for me – is rather celebratory. I am congratulated by BD and Van-the-man, who are slightly in awe at my having completely emptied the box of books that I had set out with from the mainland. They are also a little in awe at how I use my hinged mussel shells to pick up the remaining linguini on my plate. – something I learned when I was sailing in the Mediterranean in the 1960s. Why use a knife and fork when the sea has provided and even better tool with which to eat pasta?

 

The sun has just set over Navy Channel behind the layered creases

of Pender and Mayne Island.

A warm velvety glow is cast upon us by the ambience, perfectly matching the mood on this last night of an unforgettable adventure: three friends on a boat through the southern Gulf Islands.

 

 

 

It is the last day and we will be home soon. We are motoring against the tide, dodging crab pot floats through the rippled shallows of Boundary Bay. It is time to write a few words inside the front cover of No Ordinary Seaman for Van – some brotherly sentiments about sharing the sea.